Chapter 117

The old white-haired man’s house.

The light was dimly white; Zheng Fa and the other two sat in the living room.

The atmosphere was somewhat somber.

“Your mother doesn’t want you coming here anymore?” the old white-haired man asked softly.

Tang Lingwumin nodded slightly, then shook her head.

She sniffled, as if trying not to worry the two of them, and forced a stiff smile: “My mom’s condition has been worse lately—I want to spend more time with her.”

Zheng Fa stared intently at Tang Lingwumin’s eyes.

Tang Lingwumin seemed unwilling to meet his gaze; she lowered her head, strands of hair falling across her cheek, casting a shadow that hid her exhaustion and helplessness.

“What’s the real reason?” Zheng Fa asked.

“Because of me,” Tang Lingwumin replied after a long silence, her voice quiet. “I stayed out too late here before—my mom got upset…”

Zheng Fa remembered: back then, all of them had been excited searching for the Five Elements Sub-charms, and they’d come home later than usual for several days.

Tang Lingwumin’s phone had rung several times back then.

“Then my mom found out I was staying up all night—she suffers from insomnia and can’t sleep through the night.”

Zheng Fa’s mind flashed to that notebook covered in charm diagrams—the Metal Sub-charm had been discovered by Tang Lingwumin during those late nights.

It all seemed tied to him.

“But that doesn’t mean she should forbid you from coming here,” the old white-haired man frowned slightly. “Has your mother’s condition worsened?”

“No… it’s because I argued with her these past two days—she couldn’t take it anymore and banned me from coming over.” Tang Lingwumin’s tone carried regret.

“Why did you argue?”

“I told her… I’m not going to minor in management anymore—I’m switching to computer science. She thought I was defying her and refused to let me leave the house.”

The old white-haired man glanced at Zheng Fa, then asked Tang Lingwumin in confusion: “Wait, why did you want to minor in management in the first place?”

Tang Lingwumin explained to both of them: “My mom said that after my undergraduate degree, I should go abroad for a business degree and come back to take over my dad’s company.”

“And computer science…”

Zheng Fa noticed Tang Lingwumin’s head tilt slightly toward him—as if she wanted to look at him, but immediately stopped herself.

“I’ve recently realized I really love computer science!”

Zheng Fa heard Tang Lingwumin say it a bit loudly, as if volume alone could make them believe her.

His emotions were complicated.

This girl probably realized computer science would greatly help with charm research, and knew Zheng Fa didn’t want outsiders to learn about cultivation—so she chose computer science.

Tang Lingwumin lifted her head, sensing their skepticism, and added: “Actually, even if I didn’t study computer science, I still wouldn’t study business—I just never told my mom!”

“Why not?”

“My mom never let boys get close to me—that’s fine—but she’s been hovering over me every day since I was a child. I’ve never had a single close female friend, no social skills at all.”

“With just two or three people I know well, I’m perfectly comfortable.”

“The moment there are too many people, I feel overwhelmed and can’t stand talking. I’m just not suited for business, let alone managing a company.”

Tang Lingwumin’s expression was equally helpless as she explained to them: “I originally planned to study mathematics and do research—if I turned out to lack talent, I could still get by in academia with Lao Bida.”

The old white-haired man froze, his earlier pity vanishing instantly.

Zheng Fa understood him—this girl had just namedropped Lao Bida, the scholar whose paper would be immortalized in history; why should you pity her?

Seeing their stunned silence, Tang Lingwumin flashed a mischievous smile, stood up, and said: “Now that my mom won’t agree, I’ll just have to go home and inherit my dad’s fortune! Don’t worry—I’ll go now, my mom’s waiting.”

“I learned a spell.”

Zheng Fa suddenly spoke behind her.

“Hm?”

Tang Lingwumin stopped walking, then turned slowly.

“It’s called the Nourishing Spirit Charm.”

“Nourishing… Spirit… Charm?”

Tang Lingwumin repeated the three words, her voice trembling as she asked:

“You mean…”

“I can’t be sure if it’ll work,” Zheng Fa said cautiously. “All I can say is, it strengthens the spirit and nourishes the soul—gently, without side effects or harm.”

This was one reason he chose the Nourishing Spirit Charm—even though it wasn’t the most effective for healing the soul, it was the safest.

Though the Xuanwei Realm’s understanding of the soul far surpassed the modern world, the two realms were still different; Zheng Fa had made a conservative choice.

Tang Lingwumin slowly nodded; her earlier forced smile vanished, but her eyes brightened considerably.

“If you’re unsure, we can test it first,” Zheng Fa said.

“Test?” the old white-haired man blinked. “On whom?”

Zheng Fa looked at him.

“No way!” the old white-haired man waved his hands. “My mind’s perfectly fine—no problems at all!”

“I’ll do it,” Tang Lingwumin said firmly.

Zheng Fa flicked his finger; the Nourishing Spirit Charm in his dantian trembled slightly.

A surge of spiritual power shot from his fingertip, forming a golden charm in midair that flew to Tang Lingwumin’s forehead.

Tang Lingwumin tensed, instinctively closing her eyes, her lashes trembling as the charm sank into her forehead—her body went limp, collapsing toward the floor; Zheng Fa rushed to catch her and laid her gently on the sofa.

“What happened?!”

The old white-haired man jumped, thinking Tang Lingwumin had truly collapsed.

But upon closer look, both relaxed.

The girl was sound asleep—even with a slightly stuffy nose, she let out faint, soft snuffles.

Tang Lingwumin slept only a short while—fifteen minutes—and woke up.

Her transformation was striking.

When she arrived at the old white-haired man’s house, her face was weary, her spirit low, dark circles under her eyes—clearly unwell.

Now she seemed like a different person—her complexion flushed, her gaze clear, her spirit vibrant.

The old white-haired man leaned in, peering curiously, asking Tang Lingwumin: “So dramatic? How do you feel?”

“Feel?” Tang Lingwumin grinned broadly.

Zheng Fa felt a bubble of blissful foolishness radiating from her.

He heard her speak in a dreamy voice: “It feels like my head’s soaking in a hot spring, and my soul’s basking in the sun…”

“I want to try! I want to try!”

The old white-haired man, listening, suddenly seemed tempted; he shouted at Zheng Fa.

“But your brain’s not sick, right?”

“…How many math students aren’t crazy?” the old white-haired man replied confidently. “Let me try!”

…

“My mom doesn’t believe me.”

Putting down her phone, Tang Lingwumin sighed to the two of them.

Zheng Fa wasn’t surprised.

He was just one of her classmates; it was natural her mother wouldn’t believe him.

“I’ll do it!”

The old white-haired man reached out; Tang Lingwumin handed him the phone, skeptical but willing.

“Hello? Oh, yeah, it’s me.”

The old white-haired man spoke to the other end with practiced ease.

“Yes, yes, I’m calling about this kid.”

“He really has this ability—he’s amazing!”

“Don’t doubt it! I tried it myself!” the old white-haired man swore earnestly. “Oh yes! I’ve got a condition too—I’ve been taking medicine all along!”

The other side seemed to believe him, listening to his nonsense.

“Think about it—I charged you for tutoring little Tang, but I didn’t charge her!”

“Exactly! That’s why!”

“Can you do it today?”

The old white-haired man looked at Zheng Fa; Zheng Fa shook his head slightly.

He had already tested the Nourishing Spirit Charm on Tang Lingwumin and the old white-haired man twice today.

One more use, and the charm in his dantian would vanish.

“Tomorrow! After school tomorrow, I’ll come to your house? Sure, sure!”

After hanging up, the old white-haired man gave the two of them a triumphant look.

“…Teacher, how did you…”

Tang Lingwumin looked at him with admiration.

“People with illness see illness in everyone,” the old white-haired man shook his head. “You really think I was joking about math students going crazy?”

“…”

“I’ve seen too many—I know how to handle them!”

The old white-haired man’s tone carried a heartbreaking depth of experience.

…

The moment the school bell rang the next day, Tang Lingwumin sprinted to Zheng Fa’s desk, staring at him intently, as if afraid he’d change his mind.

Zheng Fa sighed helplessly, leaving his papers and pen untouched, and stood up to follow her out.

“My mom sent the driver to pick us up—it’s only twenty minutes from school to my house,” Tang Lingwumin said cheerfully. “I’ll ask her to bring you back later.”

The two walked out of the classroom side by side.

Wang Chen, sitting behind Zheng Fa, watched their retreating backs, turned slowly to his desk partner, and asked in a tone laced with uncertain disbelief, as if doubting his own ears: “Did you hear that?”

“I heard it.”

His desk partner’s expression mirrored the same disbelief, as if he thought he was dreaming.

“Did I hear right? Zheng Fa is going to Tang Lingwumin’s house?”

“Mmm…”

“And her mom sent a driver to pick him up?”

“Mmm…”

“Is this meeting the parents?”

“...I think so.”

“I don’t understand!” Wang Chen’s voice rose in bitter outrage. “Why him?!”

His desk partner nodded slowly, pointing toward the door. “Look at Old Chen—he looks even more confused than you.”

Wang Chen turned and saw Old Chen standing in the hallway, staring down at the ground below, smoking while frantically scratching his bald scalp.

His face wore the bewildered look of someone who’d just seen an alien.

…

Zheng Fa did not go to Tang Lingwumin’s house alone.

As his recommender and guarantor, Bai Lao had already been waiting in the back seat.

Tang Lingwumin’s driver dressed plainly—baggy shorts and a T-shirt, no suit and tie like the chauffeurs in TV dramas.

The driver said nothing the whole ride, but Zheng Fa keenly sensed he kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror, clearly curious.

A twenty-minute drive wasn’t short in this prefecture-level city; Zheng Fa watched the car slowly enter a villa district.

It wasn’t extravagantly lavish like in TV shows—no grand estates or massive iron gates.

Just row upon row of detached three-story villas, spaced far apart, their buildings showing signs of age—likely over ten years old.

Probably built early, this area sat right in the city center, on prime land, with a small, not-too-tall hill behind it.