The School Affairs Committee office building was located on a small islet in the water.
Across the vast expanse of water, the dark Silent Forest quietly surrounded the islet, blocking prying eyes and forming a sturdy barrier.
A gentle breeze carried moisture from beyond the islet, swirling around this small world. A humid sensation flowed soothingly through the air, making one feel refreshed and joyful.
In the grass, a weaver began to intermittently sing its little tune, 'Weave, weave, weave, weave!'
The water in late summer and early autumn was calm, with clear islets and white sand. A large yellow duck led a group of ducklings ashore, waddling past the Young Wizards.
Having just returned from swimming, the large yellow duck left a trail of wet footprints. The ducklings flapped their wings, stepping on the tracks left by their mother, and marched in a neat line.
They walked with clumsy steps, passing through the weeping willow grove on the Shore.
The long, slender branches of the weeping willows swayed in the breeze, and their emerald green leaves brushed against each other, producing a pleasant rustling sound.
The willows had not been pruned, and their thick branches bent heavily towards the water, as if they were worshipers, showing their devotion to the Silent Forest.
An old man leaned against one of these weeping willows, taking a nap in the evening shade.
This weeping willow stood beside a small dock that jutted out into the water. A patch of bark in the middle of its trunk had been scraped off, revealing the whitened wood, on which four large characters were carved in black: 'Lishè' (Beneficial Crossing) and 'Wènjīn' (Inquire about the Ford).
"That's a good omen," Zhang Jixin said, pointing to the characters 'Wènjīn' and smiling at his companions. "Perhaps this is the correct way."
He arrived in front of the old man first but did not speak.
A large blue checkered cotton cloth was spread beneath the tree. The old man, holding a thick bamboo pipe, leaned lazily against the tree, his eyes narrowed, sitting cross-legged.
Seemingly sensing someone in front of him, he slightly lifted his eyelids.
Zhang Jixin took a step forward, bowed deeply, and asked in a gruff voice:
"Excuse me, do you know how to get up to the School Affairs Committee building?"
As he spoke, the other freshmen also arrived under the weeping willow.
The old man lifted an eyelid and glanced at Zhang Jixin, muttering for a long time before finally spitting out a thick wad of phlegm.
Xiao Xiao patted his spell book, clearing away the phlegm left by the old man on the ground.
The old man grinned, chuckled a few times, and said in a hoarse voice, "No rush, no rush. You all just wait a moment."
Upon hearing this, the others could only stand still and wait quietly.
The old man extended his withered, yellowish fingers and reached into his waist pocket, carefully pinching out a cluster of golden-yellow fine threads, which he slowly rubbed into a small bamboo tube protruding from the side of the bamboo pipe.
A gray-white handkerchief was spread beside him, on which many small items were scattered.
After rubbing in the tobacco, the old man's withered fingertips glided over the scattered trinkets, finally picking up a black stone and a blade-shaped object.
He held the stone in one hand and the black blade in the other, striking them together forcefully.
"Clack! Clack! Clack!"
The crisp tapping sound broke the tranquility by the water.
The weaver's chirping stopped abruptly, and the group of small ducklings nearby, led by their mother, quickly crouched in the grass, playing dead.
A cluster of orange-yellow sparks burst from the blade, landing on the tobacco.
The tobacco began to emit wisps of blue smoke.
The old man put his mouth to the bamboo pipe and took a long drag, the gurgling sound of water bubbles in the pipe lasting for a long time.
"Is he smoking a water pipe?" Zheng Qing heard Lin Guo's quiet and curious question from behind him.
"Perhaps," Zhang Jixin rubbed his scalp, saying very boredly, "Why doesn't he use a Spell? With this slow method, one puff of smoke takes an entire afternoon."
"Puff, puff."
A series of white smoke rings puffed out from the old man's nostrils, large rings enveloping smaller ones, interlocking in a very comical way. Zheng Qing couldn't help but laugh out loud.
The old man also laughed.
He tapped the small bamboo pipe, flicking away the remaining ash inside, then paused and pulled out more tobacco from his waist pocket, slowly saying as he did so, "You're still young, you have plenty of time. Why be in such a hurry?"
"We have things to do! Very urgent!" Zhang Jixin paced back and forth anxiously.
"What's the rush? Things don't come from rushing; do them slowly, and everything can be done well." The old man meticulously rubbed a new bunch of tobacco into the small bamboo pipe, not missing a single strand. His meticulous, slow manner made everyone a little frantic.
"Let me help you light it," Zheng Qing said, seeing the withered hand reaching for the gray-white handkerchief again. He quickly pulled out a talisman from his gray cloth bag and couldn't help but ask, "Why don't you use a Spell?"
"A Spell?" The old man raised his eyebrows in surprise, shaking his arm as the flint and blade struck together again. "Am I not using a Spell? Who said a Spell must be cast by chanting a Spell and patting a spell book?"
As he spoke, the flint and blade struck together heavily, sending out a shower of golden-yellow sparks.
"But these are just ordinary flint and iron!" Zheng Qing was puzzled.
"Ah, young people nowadays, their minds are so rigid," the old man mumbled, taking another long puff from his water pipe.
"Fire, originally, is the most powerful Spell in this world!"
"What you take for granted was actually something our Old Ancestors could only dream of."
"Today, you see a spell book that can light fires, generate electricity, perform Alchemy, make medicine, and create all sorts of magical effects, and you call it magic. But little do you know, a long time ago, when our Old Ancestors saw sparks coming from wood, they would revere it as a miracle! Setting aside time, there was actually no such thing as magic in the world to begin with."
In the grass, several small ducklings, unable to bear the loneliness, secretly crawled out from under their mother's wings, chasing after a few hopping crickets.
From the crevices, the weaver seemed to have adapted to the occasional tapping sounds and began to 'weave, weave' again, pulling at its throat.
The old man puffed on his water pipe a few times, shook his head, and finally pointed lazily at the building not far away, saying, "That's enough. You can go in now. Your destination is right behind you."
"Behind us?" Zhang Jixin turned his head to look and, sure enough, the building not far away revealed an entrance that looked like a wide-open mouth. He cheered and ran off.
After thanking him, Xiao Xiao and the others also followed closely and left.
Only Zheng Qing remained, looking blankly behind him, taking a long moment to realize. His face flushed red, he thanked the old man and jogged to catch up with the figures ahead.
Behind him, a hearty laugh rang out.
"This kid has good Opportunity," Lao Yao said, holding his pipe, appearing from somewhere, smiling and puffing smoke as he spoke to the old man.
"Hahahaha," the old man nodded contentedly, tapped the pipe in his hand, pulled out a small handful of tobacco, and laughed loudly, "Well turned, well turned! Want some?"
"But I wonder if he truly realized that the door was right behind him!" Lao Yao chuckled as he took the tobacco and stuffed it into his still-smoking pipe, interjecting.
"Being able to see is good! Being confused is Opportunity, but being clear is creation."
The sky gradually blurred, enveloping the two long figures and the faint smoke.