Looking at the wood cut in half on the ground, Wen Chaosheng's expression first showed a faint confusion. The fir wood in Lu Zhiming's woodshed was almost all raw logs. He didn't know where these raw logs came from, but splitting the logs into firewood required a lot of Wen Chaosheng's physical strength.
Yesterday, his workload was only one-third of today's. After finishing the work, he was almost exhausted, and after freeloading a meal at Lu Zhiming's house, he rested for a long time before finally pulling the cart back to the dilapidated temple.
But just now, he had simply swung the knife, and with one strike, he had split the hard fir wood into two sections. The change during this period was too great, surprising Wen Chaosheng.
Looking at the fir wood split into two sections on the ground, Wen Chaosheng, somewhat disbelieving, picked up another piece of wood and chopped down fiercely, mimicking his previous action!
Crack—
The sharp edge of the firewood knife struck the hard wood. This time, he couldn't easily split the hard wood again. Splinters flew, scattering haphazardly around Wen Chaosheng.
The craftsmanship of this firewood knife was extremely shoddy. Since it had no wooden handle, the vibration transmitted from the blade of the firewood knife was very strong. Wen Chaosheng's tiger's mouth was numb, and just now, it almost slipped from his hand.
He frowned, letting out a sound of 'Yi' from his mouth.
Was the previous wood more brittle?
No.
Wen Chaosheng discovered a problem, which was that the feeling of his current strike was very different from the previous one.
He chopped several more times, trying to replicate the first strike he made in the woodshed today, but he never succeeded. Wen Chaosheng seemed a little addicted. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, ignoring the soreness in his arms and tiger's mouth, and continued to try.
In the courtyard outside the woodshed, Lu Zhiming tidied his clothes, picked up the watering can, and began to water the flowers and plants in the courtyard. The flowers and plants in this residence were indeed more luxuriant than those in other places. They grew wildly, and because Lu Zhiming watered and tended to them on time every day, even in the hottest summer or the bitterest winter, they never had to worry about nourishment.
But after Lu Zhiming finished watering the flowers and plants in the residence, he deliberately skipped the loquat tree in the center of the courtyard.
He didn't water the tree; instead, he sat on a stone bench nearby, brewed himself a pot of tea, and enjoyed his tea while resting.
Crack!
Crack!
From the woodshed behind him, the sound of Wen Chaosheng chopping wood continued. Lu Zhiming sat with his legs crossed, staring blankly at the loquat tree in front of him, seemingly lost in distant memories.
How long has this loquat tree been growing here?
Fifteen years, or twenty years?
Tracing back further in time, he recalled the promise he casually made when he first left the Sword Pavilion, which had already taken thirty years of his life.
Admittedly, cultivators have longer lifespans than ordinary people, but thirty years is a sufficiently long period, whether for cultivators or ordinary people.
As time passes, it's easy to forget many things, but if one doesn't forget, it becomes a source of pain.
For example, the young man next door who kept a large black dog. Lu Zhiming often played chess with him. The black dog used to frequently visit, loving to lie under the loquat tree to cool off or enjoy the breeze. After a game of chess ended, the young man would take the black dog back to his residence to brew some medicinal porridge for his elderly mother.
Later, after the young man left, no one accompanied Lu Zhiming in playing chess. He became much lonelier, and the black dog's figure was no longer seen under the loquat tree.
After an unknown period of being lost in memory, Lu Zhiming was suddenly interrupted by a peculiar sound from the woodshed.
Clang!
After this sound fell, it was immediately followed by the sound of chopped firewood rolling onto the ground. Lu Zhiming, in the courtyard, lowered his head and took a shallow sip of hot tea, muttering to himself:
"The tea isn't cold yet..."
Wen Chaosheng walked out of the woodshed with the knife, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.
Lu Zhiming poured him a cup of tea and invited him to sit and rest. Wen Chaosheng gulped down two cups of hot tea, listening as Lu Zhiming asked:
"Do you know how to play chess?"
Wen Chaosheng hesitated for a moment:
"Explain the rules?"
Lu Zhiming was also patient. He went into the house and took out a cloth wrapped with chess pieces. Seeing that they were black and white, Wen Chaosheng immediately surmised that they were likely related to Go or Gomoku.
As Lu Zhiming explained the rules of the game, Wen Chaosheng began to smile.
Golden corners, silver sides, grass belly.
Isn't this Go?
He said that when he was with Si Xiaohong, he was not proficient in music and could only hum tunes.
But he really knew how to play Go, Chinese chess, and Gomoku.
"I can play. Let's play a game, then I'll go chop more firewood."
Wen Chaosheng said so.
Lu Zhiming said no more. He let Wen Chaosheng choose black or white, and the latter unhesitatingly chose the white pieces.
Lu Zhiming asked:
"You don't go first?"
Wen Chaosheng shook his head:
"I like white."
Lu Zhiming smiled upon hearing this, took out the black pieces, and placed them on the board. The two of them, one piece at a time, began to contend on the small chessboard.
Unlike Lu Zhiming, Wen Chaosheng placed his pieces very quickly; he hardly needed to think. And when Lu Zhiming was halfway through the game, although he was not at a disadvantage, he would think for a long time with each move.
After a hundred and fifty moves, while Lu Zhiming was still contemplating, Wen Chaosheng felt bored and again stared blankly at the loquat tree. As the wind blew, the leaves rustled, and the swaying of the branches seemed to reflect the glint of blades and swords. When Wen Chaosheng suddenly realized, he felt as if something incredibly sharp was pressed against his throat. He instinctively stood up and retreated, scattering the white pieces in his hand all over the ground in his panic.
Clatter—
The white pieces rolled, scattering and fleeing throughout the residence, like a defeated army.
When he came back to his senses, Wen Chaosheng was already drenched in sweat. He was still shaken, and after touching his throat to confirm there were no wounds, he asked Lu Zhiming:
"Mr. Lu, what kind of tree is that, exactly?"
Lu Zhiming smiled and said:
"A loquat tree."
"There are loquat trees in the south too; you should have seen them."
Wen Chaosheng shook his head:
"No, that's not right."
"That's not a loquat tree."
Lu Zhiming took a sip of tea and asked in return:
"Then what do you think it is?"
Recalling everything that had just happened, Wen Chaosheng stared at Lu Zhiming's face and slowly uttered two words:
"A sword."