Four days later, the Scripture Depository.
Cheng Yi meticulously examined the transcribed Daoist Scriptures.
In front of him, seven copies of the Daoist Scripture were spread out. These were Chen Mu's labor from the past few days.
Two of them had been copied by his predecessor, while he had transcribed the other five.
Cheng Yi put down the last Daoist Scripture and picked up the first one again, "Let me flip through it once more, just once more."
"Flip through it again, and you're going to wear out the book," Chen Mu warned expressionlessly.
Just a moment ago he said he would only take a quick look, but then he examined it word by word from beginning to end.
This guy isn't trying to weasel out of paying, is he?!
Chen Mu narrowed his eyes and silently moved to a corner of the desk, his right hand stealthily touching the inkstone.
After a thought, his left hand slowly gripped the brush washer...
It was quite a while before Cheng Yi closed the book's pages reluctantly.
When he noticed Chen Mu's subtle movements, his eyelids twitched fiercely. Was this scholar really so fierce?!
Although the handwriting had indeed changed, it had been changed to be even more elegant and beautiful. It was on par with the inscriptions on the walls of the Ancestral Master Hall.
Moreover, upon closer observation, it was clear that this handwriting continued the vein of the original strokes.
He could only admire the other's exceptional talent; their calligraphy had greatly improved.
He had never heard of evil spirits inheriting the original writer's talents, let alone improving upon them.
He really guessed wrong, huh.
Just when Chen Mu could hardly restrain himself any longer.
Cheng Yi took a small, grey cloth pouch from his sleeve.
"A modest token for the brushing of the ink, it's not much to look at," he said.
Chen Mu immediately showed a smile, "It's not insignificant at all, why don't you take another look?"
"No need, the handwriting is beautiful and generous, and beholding it, one senses the ethereal presence of immortals. It is a rare and excellent script. Young Master Chen's calligraphy talent is exceptional; you will undoubtedly become a master of this generation," Cheng Yi complimented, though somewhat grudgingly.
"You flatter me, Daoist Cheng Yi," Chen Mu replied modestly.
The two exchanged pleasantries for a moment longer before Chen Mu took his leave.
With the transcription of the scriptures complete, it was time for him to return home.
...
At the gate of the observatory, Chen Mu was bidding farewell to Cheng Yi.
"Eh?" Cheng Yi suddenly looked up into the distance.
Chen Mu couldn't help but turn to look as well.
Qingfeng Observatory was located halfway up the small mountain in the east, and there was a stone stairway that led directly to the foot of the mountain.
At that moment, a figure was sprinting up from the base of the mountain.
With each step, the figure leaped five or six meters, covering half the mountain trail in just a few bounds.
Chen Mu watched, dumbfounded.
"How can that person run so fast?!"
"Although it's small, it has everything necessary. Not a bad place," he said.
Inside the main hall, directly across from the entrance, was a square table with two long chairs beside it.
Chen Mu walked over to the window on the west side.
There was a long wooden table with pots, pans, ladles, and basins on it. He poured the white wheat into the black rice jar beside the table and then sat down at the square table to rest.
Traveling through time, warding off evil spirits, practicing calligraphy, copying scriptures — since coming to this world, he hadn't had a moment of rest.
Now that everything had settled down, he felt somewhat lost.
Continue to make a living by writing and drawing just like his former self?
He could almost see the end of that kind of life in one glance.
Scrimp and save, laboriously accumulate money; when he got older, make do with marrying a wife. Then have a child whose filial piety was uncertain. Afterward, spend the rest of his days amid the bustle and quarrels over daily necessities.
You could say that simplicity is the essence of life, but you could also say that this is mediocrity.
This was almost a replica of Chen Mu's past life.
But since he had been given the chance to cross over into this life, he no longer wanted to live that monotonous existence!
He wanted to make a splash! He wanted to embark on adventures...
Bang bang bang!
Suddenly, there was a knocking at the door.
"Open up!"
Who could this be? Chen Mu opened the door, puzzled.
A gaunt old man in his fifties stood at the entrance.
The visitor said indifferently with a cold face, "Rent."
A flicker of memory quickly surged to his mind.
Li Enwu, the Wang family's second steward, the rent collector.
Although he had lived in this house from a young age, it did not belong to him.
"Steward Li, please come in," Chen Mu said politely.
"No need," Steward Li waved dismissively and said coldly, "Pay up."
"Just a moment, I'll go get it," Chen Mu said as he turned back into the house and took out a black clay jar from under the bed.
The clay jar had a grey cloth seal and was about the size of two fists.
He untied the seal and upended it, and a small pile of copper coins clattered out.
This was all the savings of his former life.
He quickly counted out three hundred and ten copper coins into a small bag and returned to the door.
"Steward Li, here's the rent for three months. Please take it," Chen Mu said as he handed over the grey cloth bag.
Steward Li took it, weighed it with a lift of his hand, and nodded slightly. He then casually tossed it to two strong men behind him and walked away.
Chen Mu closed the door, went back inside, sighed, and counted his copper coins.
"Including the money from copying scripture, I have a total of two hundred and thirty-two coins left."
"Fatty meat costs twenty-four copper coins per jin (catty), with this little money, I can't even buy ten jins of meat."
He wanted to brave the world, but first, he needed to earn money to eat.