Professor Zheng hurriedly jumped up and went to the health station next to the community to call a doctor.
When he returned with the doctor, he was surprised to see his Little grandson had already regained consciousness and was sitting obediently in front of Mr. Wu. Mr. Wu, with a serious expression, was pinching, patting, and massaging his head and body.
"Does Sir know what's wrong with my grandson?" Professor Zheng, keenly aware of something, asked excitedly.
Mr. Wu remained silent for a long time before slowly explaining.
According to him, Zheng Qing was born with deficient Qi and blood, but his spirit was strong, leading to an imbalance of Yin and Yang. The Yin Qi surged upward, causing headaches. Originally, daily memorization and calligraphy practice consumed Zheng Qing's spirit well, but reading and practicing calligraphy consumed even more of Zheng Qing's Qi and blood. With both aspects subtracting, Zheng Qing's condition progressively worsened.
"Is there a way to remedy it?"
"Innate deficiency of Qi and blood cannot be compensated for by Acquired medicine."
"So, you mean there are other ways?"
Mr. Wu remained silent.
"Please, Sir, save me." Professor Zheng stood up, pulled Zheng Qing to his knees, and bowed deeply himself.
Mr. Wu sighed deeply, "The tree desires stillness, but the wind will not cease."
Helping Professor Zheng up, Mr. Wu made three agreements with him.
The first was, "Do not speak of it"; the second was, "The Dao shall not be spread"; and the third was, "For the belly, not for the eyes."
The first, "Do not speak of it," meant that Professor Zheng could not tell others about his treatment. Mr. Wu said very solemnly that some things, if spoken of, would lose their efficacy.
The second, "The Dao shall not be spread," meant that the matter of healing involved secrets, and the Zheng family should not inquire about it casually. Moreover, according to Mr. Wu's veiled statement, he inherited a Daoist lineage, and if Zheng Qing wanted to compensate for his Innate deficiency, he would need to become his disciple and abide by his family's precepts.
The third, "For the belly, not for the eyes," Mr. Wu stated that he treated Zheng Qing simply because he encountered him, seeking peace of mind, and did not wish to be disturbed by other patients because of it. It was for the heart, not for fame. If the treatment had some effect and the Zheng family attracted other patients to disturb him, he would only be able to leave early.
After stating the three requirements, Mr. Wu fell silent.
Professor Zheng was still pondering, but Zheng Qing had already disregarded everything and knocked his head seven or eight times, continuously calling out "Teacher."
Professor Zheng pulled him up, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Upon asking, he learned that Mr. Wu's massage just now had been very effective, and Zheng Qing seemed to have not felt such a refreshing sensation in a long time. Therefore, upon hearing that Mr. Wu had a way to treat his headache, he immediately kowtowed.
So, the Old Professor could only smile bitterly and nod in agreement.
Thus, in the midsummer of his eighth year, Zheng Qing became a disciple of Mr. Wu.
Mr. Wu's knowledge was extremely vast, encompassing Astronomy, geography, history, and encyclopedias. Whenever a customer at the bookstore started a topic, he could always follow the conversation and talk for a long time. If the customer was a charming Little girl, Mr. Wu would not hesitate to smile, be glib, and tease those Little girls until they trembled with laughter.
Mr. Wu's hobbies were also extremely broad. Playing musical instruments, singing, playing chess, calligraphy, painting, and even various ball sports, as well as the tedious chores of the bookstore—it seemed that anything encountered in people's daily lives could spark his intense interest. So much so that Professor Zheng sighed, "Mr. Wu is truly an Immortal Master."
Most importantly, Mr. Wu's healing methods were indeed very superb.
Since becoming his disciple, Zheng Qing's headache had not recurred for a single day.
This made Professor Zheng and Zheng Qing's parents extremely grateful. But because Mr. Wu insisted on not accepting tuition fees, the Zheng family could only send some gifts during festivals to express their gratitude.
Mr. Wu's healing methods were very peculiar. He did not spend all day performing acupuncture and massage for Zheng Qing, nor did he prepare mineral and herbal decoctions for Zheng Qing. Instead, he continued Professor Zheng's consistent practice: calligraphy!
However, what Zheng Qing practiced was not the common three thousand Chinese characters found in books, but a tattered talisman scroll.
The talisman scroll had a total of three hundred and twenty-four pages, with four talismans on each page, totaling one thousand two hundred and ninety-six talisman characters. The structure of each talisman character was exceptionally complex, and there were often subtle changes in the strokes, which made it even more difficult for Zheng Qing to practice.
Mr. Wu seemed still not satisfied and specifically found a soft, fine brush for Zheng Qing, further demanding that Zheng Qing learn one talisman character every day. Calligraphers know that hard-pen calligraphy is easy to write, but soft-pen calligraphy is difficult to master. Although this soft, fine brush reduced Zheng Qing's physical fatigue, it increased his mental exhaustion by several times.
These talisman characters were not simply learned and then forgotten each day. At Mr. Wu's request, there was a daily memorization, a small test every five days, and a large test every ten days. Failure to memorize resulted in a ruler strike, and failure to pass the test still resulted in a ruler strike.
Mr. Wu had said that if one could not pass the ten-day large test, there was no need to come again.
Zheng Qing thought of the torment of his headaches, and his heart was filled with fear, so he naturally began to practice calligraphy diligently.
Thus, more than three years passed in a flash, and by the time Zheng Qing was twelve years old, he had thoroughly mastered over a thousand talisman characters on the scroll. And his headaches had not recurred for three years.
Over three years, the longer Zheng Qing stayed with Mr. Wu, the more anomalies he discovered.
For example, Mr. Wu seemed to have never eaten anything.
Sir was an excellent cook, making dishes that were perfect in color, aroma, and taste, but he often let Zheng Qing and the bookstore's Yellow Flower Cat enjoy the food he made. Zheng Qing had never seen Mr. Wu eat.
Another example was that the Yellow Flower Cat in the shop was also very strange. When Zheng Qing was ten years old, this Yellow Flower Cat appeared from nowhere, scurried around the bookstore, and refused to leave. Sir did not drive it away, so this cat brazenly settled down. Over time, Zheng Qing always felt that it had become a Spirit Monster. He had seen this calico cat more than once rummage through a drawer for the attic key, stand upright, and use its paws to open the door to get dried fish. And this cat never avoided him; instead, it often waved its paws to greet him.
Most importantly, one time Zheng Qing saw Mr. Wu beckon to his teapot, and the teapot, which was at least ten meters away from him, floated unsteadily into his hand.
The more he knew, the more he revered, and Zheng Qing's attitude towards Mr. Wu became increasingly respectful.
A young boy's heart always held such and such fantasies. So these anomalies slowly settled in his heart, gradually becoming familiar, until they became commonplace and he paid them no mind.
It wasn't until his twelfth birthday that Mr. Wu announced he would give Zheng Qing a gift.
It was a foggy morning. Mr. Wu held Zheng Qing's hand, instructing him to hold on tight. Zheng Qing nervously gripped Mr. Wu's large hand. After leaving the bookstore and walking a few steps, they entered the community garden.
On both sides of the garden path were holly bushes over a meter tall, neatly trimmed by the gardeners. Following the winding path, they passed through a circular archway, and the surrounding mist seemed to instantly dissipate.
He was still thinking that he had never seen that archway in the garden before. But unexpectedly, Mr. Wu left him and clasped his hands in greeting to a thin, withered old man walking towards them.
Zheng Qing looked around; before him was a quiet, ancient small street.
At the entrance of the small street, a memorial archway was supported by two bare stone pillars, and on its plaque, the three large characters "Hui Zi Market" were written with powerful strokes.
