High School of Demon Hunting

7: Chapter 7 Hui Zi Ji_1

7 -7 Hui Zi Ji_1

This was Zheng Qing’s first visit to “Hui Zi Ji”.

Hui Zi Ji is a small marketplace, merely a single street.

The street is less than ten meters wide, generally ladder-shaped, looping around a few miles in length.

Both sides of the street are lined with old shops, their frontages not in the best of order.

Some of them are even half-closed, with windows that were not open.

Walking down the street, you could see vendors setting up stalls in the slightly spacious areas, giving the impression the market was loosely managed.

“Our San You Bookstore has a branch here.

You can come and look after it when I am not around.” While walking ahead, Mr.

Wu casually instructed Zheng Qing.

Zheng Qing only hummed in response, his eyes fixed on the goods displayed by the vendors on both sides of the street.

Long-horned insects, three-headed dogs, rabbits with scorpion tails, mermaids lying in bathtubs; it felt as if he had unwittingly stumbled into a world of fairytale.

Mouth agape, clinging to Mr.

Wu’s sleeve, Zheng Qing was surprisingly not shocked by these bizarre images.

He was purely and wholly curious.

Mr.

Wu was pleased with his reaction, not even the flirtatious young women on the street made the old man’s eyes widen any further.

He slowed his pace, softly introducing the shops along the way.

“This ‘Authentic Botany’ primarily sells local herbs.

Old ginseng from Shangdang, Citrus varieties from Shangzhou, Mausu Neijin from the tomb, even a variety of Jiang ginger, pepper, and licorice; you can find almost all the materials for brewing soup and concocting herbal mixtures here.”

“If you wish to buy medicines, you should visit the ‘Spring Reviving Hall’.

The current hall master is Deng Xiaoxian, a recent university graduate.

He initially wished to explore the world, but Old Mr.

Deng dragged him back.

Their medicine hall is beside our bookstore; you can take a look later.”

“This ‘Tomb Index Mound’ sells piles of old papers that no one reads.

They are all symbols and runes, there’s nothing interesting.”

“This ‘Green Xifang’, you can visit occasionally.

They sell clothes.

However, the styles are quite old and not at all trendy, probably not to your liking.”

When they conversed, Mr.Wu often saluted and exchanged formalities with a few elders.

Zheng Qing stood obediently by his side, glancing at a toddler who was no older than two or three years.

The toddler’s parents were nowhere in sight, leaving this little fellow with his hair in a topknot, playing around with a two-foot-long toy sword.

“Why isn’t he riding a broomstick?” Trailing behind Mr.

Wu, Zheng Qing rubbed his nose and watched the child with an envious expression.

“Because shortly his mother will come beat him.

If he is on a broomstick, his mother would take the broom and smack him.” Mr.

Wu explained calmly, “One who can’t walk properly wants to fly around, it’s easy to get beaten that way.”

Zheng Qing felt as though Mr.

Wu was making a point.

“Today is your twelfth birthday; I should give you a gift.” Mr.Wu stopped in front of a shop and patted Zheng Qing’s head.

“Don’t refuse, it’s a gift from an elder, and it’s not to be declined.”

Zheng Qing grinned, unable to hide his excitement, and showed no inclination to refuse.

He wondered what gift Mr.

Wu would give.

The small creatures he saw earlier were nice.

The three-headed dog and the rabbit with a scorpion tail could be a bit dangerous, and he probably wouldn’t be allowed to keep them at home.

The tiny mermaid, however, was a possibility.

He could place a bathtub in his bedroom and change its water daily, albeit it would be a bit laborious.

The candy house sold at one of the stalls they passed was also not bad.

The brightly colored yard, plants and animals, and even the little candy people running from the house to the lawn looked extremely appetizing.

However, such a gift was considered perishable and probably wouldn’t last past his birthday.

And then there was the flying wooden sword under that little brat’s feet.

He might be too big to ride it, but he could hang his pet hamster on it for fun.

Before Zheng Qing could finish his thoughts, Mr.Wu had already emerged from the shop.

He opened his hand, reached out, and laughed, “This is your birthday gift.”

In Mr.

Wu’s palm lay a silver pocket watch, intricately engraved with complex patterns.

A light press of the button on the top would spring open the case to reveal the ticking hands inside.

Zheng Qing accepted the gift with delight, yet a slight disappointment rested within his heart.

Mr.

Wu pointed at his watch, his tone quite serious: “Remember, your most precious wealth is your time.”

Zheng Qing looked up, seemingly puzzled.

“Have you seen my hand?” Mr.

Wu turned over his palm, revealing a wrinkled, waxen yellow back of his hand, speckled with age spots.

It wasn’t particularly good-looking.

“Can you imagine how smooth and elastic this skin once was?

But now, it’s withered.”

“The real horror is not in death, but in the silent recognition of time’s passage, the body’s aging, and being powerless to stop it.”

“When I was young, every time I saw an old person, I easily shifted my gaze from them.

Carelessly, I felt they were distant from me.”

“But with the ticking of time, I was shocked to find that age was so close.”

“I don’t fear death, nor do I fear aging.

I just occasionally worry about my own powerlessness.

My inability to leave my mark, to prove the meaning of my existence.”

***

Upon returning from Hui Zi Ji, Zheng Qing locked himself in his room and feverishly practiced writing symbols all night, resulting in alarmingly dark circles under his eyes the next day.

From that day forward, in addition to teaching Zheng Qing to practice writing symbols, Mr.

Wu passed on a guidance technique.

According to the old man, natural deficiencies need to be addressed by strengthening the basics and nourishing the primal energy.

Use symbols to strengthen the basic, and guidance to nourish primal energy.

Since then, the first thing Zheng Qing did each morning was to practice the guidance technique.

Before breakfast, before his afternoon nap, before going to bed at night, he copied dozens of symbols.

Life seemed to glide by like water, slipping through the world.

The sensation of his last headache diminished with time, almost dreamlike, making Zheng Qing himself unsure whether those difficult times really happened.

Zheng Qing was now eighteen years old.

Studying with Mr.

Wu did not occupy much of Zheng Qing’s time.

According to the old man, among the world’s myriad affairs, haste leads to failure, especially on the path of enlightenment.

Daily practice of the Guidance Technique was limited to three times, and symbol practice to three hundred.

Any more would lead to exhaustion and triggering of his old issues.

As an heir to a family of educators, although his family no longer demanded Zheng Qing to study hard, he couldn’t neglect his normal schooling.

At the joint request of his family and Mr.

Wu, Zheng Qing dutifully completed elementary, middle, and even high school.

Regretfully, he realized he had become the type of person he had always scoffed at: from elementary school to high school, he had always been stuck in the vicinity of his neighborhood.

He must go farther for university!

But not too far that he himself wouldn’t even know where.

Retrieving the college acceptance letter from his bedroom, Zheng Qing returned to the living room.

Because at noon that day, Zheng Qing’s parents had brought home a blond, blue-eyed visitor.

From the brief conversation between his parents and this guest, Zheng Qing learned of the foreigner’s origin.

He is the interviewer sent by that strange number one university.