Chapter 215 The Seventeenth Day of Entering a Rebirth Novel
Chapter 215 The Seventeenth Day of Entering a Rebirth Novel
Chapter 215: Day 17 of Transmigrating into a Rebirth Novel
An Yi swept his gaze calmly across the hall, gave a slight nod, and without pausing, walked straight to the low table cushioned with soft brocade pads at the front.
His wide, dark Daoist sleeves brushed across the smooth floor like flowing clouds, making no sound.
"No need for formalities. Sit down." His voice was clear and gentle, like a mountain spring flowing.
He gracefully flicked his sleeves and sat down on the meditation cushion, his posture relaxed and natural, yet exuding an unassailable dignity, as if born to be above others and receive their admiration.
Huo Huai sat down with the others, but his heart was pounding even more uncontrollably.
He could even hear the sound of blood rushing through his veins.
The National Preceptor was sitting not far away, vividly real... He forced himself to concentrate.
"Today, we will start from the very basics."
An Yi got straight to the point: "Do you know that everything we see with our eyes, touch with our hands, even ourselves, all things in this world..."
Sunlight moved slowly under the eaves, and tree shadows danced.
In the hall, only An Yi's clear, gentle voice echoed, along with the rapt expressions of over thirty disciples—sometimes enlightened, sometimes puzzled.
They never expected that the ordinary everyday things around them could contain such profound and interesting philosophy!
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Time flew as they focused on their studies.
It wasn't until An Yi gently set down the object in his hand and announced the end of today's lesson that everyone realized an entire morning had passed.
"If you have any questions, write them down and ask me before the next lesson."
An Yi said kindly, waving his hand. "Go and rest."
The disciples rose one after another, bowed respectfully, and left the hall in groups of two or three, discussing what they had learned, their faces lit with excitement and contemplation.
But Huo Huai dragged his feet to stay last.
He watched the others gradually leave until only he and An Yi remained in the empty hall; An Yi was now bending over to tidy up the silk scrolls on the table. He took a deep breath and walked stiffly, almost marching, to stand in front of An Yi.
He stood there, his body as taut as an iron plate.
An Yi was just rolling up a silk scroll and tying it with a silk ribbon. Sensing someone approaching, he looked up.
Sure enough, it was Huo Huai. A gentle smile naturally spread across his face, like a spring breeze. "Huo Huai, is something the matter?"
His voice, very close, was clear with a hint of laziness, carrying a faint, refined cold fragrance that went straight to Huo Huai's head.
A buzzing sound filled his head, and his mind went blank.
The National Preceptor... he smells so good...
The apology he had been preparing all morning, repeatedly deliberating and polishing, was nowhere to be found—not even a single complete syllable.
He opened his mouth, but his throat seemed blocked as if by something, and he could only utter a few short, meaningless sounds: "I... that..."
His cheeks visibly flushed bright red, like a boiled shrimp, and even his neck and ears were stained deep pink.
He abruptly bowed his head, clasped his hands and bent deeply, his movements so abrupt that he nearly knocked over a lamp stand nearby. His voice was filled with obvious panic: "N-nothing! This student shall take his leave!"
Before he finished speaking, he almost spun around and fled, his tall, upright figure now full of panic and helplessness, rushing out of the hall and disappearing into the sunlight outside.
The moment he rushed out the door, a crystal-clear thought struck him: how could the National Preceptor, a man so pure and transcendent, have cast some curse on him?!
It was clearly... clearly he himself, he didn't know when, who had conceived an improper thought, and had been looking for excuses to get close to the National Preceptor!
Clearly, his flushed face and racing heart meant something was wrong with his own body!
He must have caught some strange disease!
An Yi watched him flee almost staggering in his panic, was slightly taken aback, then shook his head with a smile.
Quite a tall fellow, with a strong presence... didn't expect him to be so shy.
He didn't take this small incident to heart, simply continued calmly tidying up, then slowly rose.
His robes brushed the threshold, and his figure disappeared into the corridor leading to the inner chambers.
Meanwhile, Huo Huai had been running almost on instinct. He didn't stop until he had completely distanced himself from the teaching hall and reached a secluded corner of the garden. There he stopped, leaning against an ancient gnarled tree, panting heavily.
Sweat beaded on his temples, whether from running or from shame.
A wave of remorse crashed over him as he recalled his stupid behavior just now. He wished he could turn back time.
"Idiot!" He cursed himself in a low voice, his clenched fist smashing into the rough tree trunk, landing with a dull thud.
A few leaves fell rustling down.
How could he have lost his composure like that! He couldn't even complete a sentence!
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That night, at the Loyal Brave Marquis's mansion, in Huo Huai's courtyard.
Candlelight flickered, casting shadows on his cold, hard side profile, which still held a trace of lingering irritation.
He dismissed his attendants, leaving only one trusted attendant.
"Go..." Huo Huai's voice was low. "Fetch me a doctor."
The servant glanced worriedly at his young master but dared not ask, immediately obeying.
Before long, a white-haired, white-bearded elderly doctor who looked experienced was brought in.
Huo Huai dismissed the servant, leaving only himself and the doctor in the room.
With a serious face, he described his "symptoms" over the past half-year as objectively as possible.
Whenever he saw or thought of the National Preceptor, he would uncontrollably experience a racing heart, flushed face, surging blood, heated head, and even confused thoughts and incoherent speech.
He omitted the Preceptor's identity, only saying he was a certain... "specific person."
Upon hearing this, the doctor was momentarily stunned, then carefully took Huo Huai's pulse, switching between left and right wrists several times, his brow sometimes furrowed, sometimes relaxed.
After a while, the doctor withdrew his hand, his face an indescribable expression as he looked at Huo Huai, hesitating to speak.
"What is it?" Huo Huai asked nervously.
The doctor carefully chose his words and spoke hesitantly: "Young master... your pulse is strong and vigorous, your qi and blood are abundant. There is no sign of any chronic illness, poisoning, or parasitic curse..."
He muttered inwardly, "This man is as strong as an ox. What illness could he possibly have?"
"Then why..." Huo Huai frowned.
The doctor looked at him, so convinced he was sick, cleared his throat, and began to allude to medical classics:
"Well, in my humble opinion, your symptoms seem to be due to excess heart-fire disturbing the spirit, leading to extreme emotions transforming into heat that harms the body. When the heart fire stirs, it causes redness, palpitations, blood surging, mental agitation... With endless brooding and unfulfilled desires, one's spirit scatters..."
He recited a bunch of ambiguous medical theories, and finally, looking at Huo Huai's still confused and serious face, he cut to the chase: "Young master, this is not like an illness. It is more like... you've caught a case of lovesickness."