Chapter 168: Writing Poetry for Him, Discussing Immortality in University!

The long river of time surged with ripples, countless waves crashing against the shore, faintly revealing shadows of past, present, and future; the great waves washed away the sand, leaving behind gravel that bore witness to the passage of time.

Ye Qin moved through it, his very soul tinged with the breath of ages, an ancient and weathered feeling washing over him; when he opened his eyes again, he felt as if time had shifted and circumstances had changed.

Before his eyes lay familiar mountains and rivers, a bright moon hanging high in the azure sky, silver radiance draped over the treetops, adding a touch of hazy light and shadow; stars glittered, moonlight spilled across the Milky Way, and the scene before him was exquisitely beautiful.

Not long ago, he was still discussing the moon with Li Bai in the Tang Dynasty, and in an instant, he found himself a thousand years later.

The ancients did not see the moon of today, yet today's moon once shone upon the ancients.

The bright moon remains unchanged through eternity, while human generations rise and fall; now, people can only fail to see the ancients before them and the descendants after them—countless souls throughout history have flowed on like water, passing away one after another.

Apart from the unchanging moon in the heavens, all things on earth are in constant flux—day and night alternate, the seasons shift; this is the way of reincarnation.

Though the moon endures and human life is fleeting, and mankind cannot alter this natural law, Ye Qin can break free from it, becoming a unique existence—proof enough of his special nature.

Ye Qin entered the mottled fragments of time, wandering through the long river of history, both witness and experiencer; the splendid culture of Xia spanning thousands of years was, to him, merely a ripple raised by the flow of time.

He once debated the Dao with Zuo Ci in the mountains, seeking the mystery of longevity; crossed the river with an old man in pursuit of an ancient sword embedded in his chest; conversed with Zhidun in a temple, discussing the Heart Sutra at length; then wandered with Zhang Boduan through Yangzhou, leaving behind traces of divine presence where every city flower had withered.

A single glance cast by Ye Qin into the long river of history might well have been the pivotal moment in these individuals' tumultuous lives.

Gazing at the moon overhead, he felt a stirring in his heart, as if enlightened, entering a profound and mysterious realm.

"Whether for me or for them, this may be but a brief intersection, yet it has left a mark in history—neither shallow nor deep."

Each time within these mottled fragments of time, Ye Qin gains many insights, even greatly aiding his cultivation.

After all, the aura here is intertwined with the way of temporal reincarnation.

Such an experience cannot be had in the mundane world; even after years of worldly training, it does not compare to a single backward glance through time.

His golden core turned slowly, a hazy mist emanating from it, spreading outward from him in all directions.

Within the mist, golden threads intertwined; the moonlight in the heavens seemed drawn to it, the essence of the moon gathering completely, forming a silver gauze ribbon that fell to the ground.

Tender leaves were coated with dew; upon close inspection, each droplet held a faint reflection of the moon.

Ye Qin's jade-green scales appeared soaked in the Milky Way, continually cleansed by moonlight, filled with a sense of holiness.

His state of mind improved slightly, and his soul became more substantial as well.

A warm, steadfast power flowed continuously through his meridians, like soaking in a hot spring; that comforting sensation made him sigh repeatedly.

"My strength has advanced somewhat."

"These mottled fragments of time are like elixirs—each use brings benefit to cultivation."

The animals guarding the surroundings sensed something, all gazing up at the bright moon, howling toward the heavens, bowing to the moon—but their bows were directed toward where Ye Qin stood.

The surrounding spiritual energy and lunar essence were all gathered by Ye Qin; they, to varying degrees, also benefited, exerting themselves further, eager to absorb even more.

Spiritual energy surged like mist and sea, vast and boundless, nearly becoming tangible; soon, the animals' fur was dotted with tiny water beads.

Unnoticed, the long night passed, a red sun rose slowly, replacing the original moon; the sky showed a fish-belly white hue, a few rays of rosy light fell among the mountains, as if draped in colorful garments.

The animals were spirited, their excited calls unceasing; last night's cultivation equaled half a month of their training; Ye Qin's mind, soul, and realm improved, and they too reaped abundant benefits.

Gradually, the spiritual energy dissipated; Ye Qin sensed a faint trace of temporal aura, he extended his spiritual power to investigate—it was clearly emanating from within the Qingguan Observatory.

Inside the Qingguan Observatory, the sound of flowing water never ceased; in the channel, the bronze ancient sword had become quite substantial; it would not be long before it fully restored its original form.

Beside it lay a string of ancient sandalwood prayer beads, now accompanied by a wine gourd—precisely the one Li Bai had given him.

The bronze ancient sword had previously been given to Zhidun, then inexplicably returned; the sandalwood beads had helped him against guardians, though he did not yet know what use this wine gourd might have.

Ye Qin extended his spiritual power to investigate, finding nothing abnormal for now—perhaps the time had not yet come; perhaps it would serve some purpose in the future.

…

Wu Du, Nanchuan University.

Countless students walked along the shaded paths, youthful faces blooming like flowers about to open, adorning every corner of the campus.

Nanchuan boasts a long history, the university founded a century ago, its cultural atmosphere deep and rich; the entire campus adopts an archaic style, even featuring winding, secluded corridors and exquisite landscape gardening.

Even the names of the teaching buildings are uniquely chosen—for example, the Moon-Seeking Tower and the Boating Tower.

At this moment, in a large classroom in the Bai Tower, although it was the weekend, the room was filled with students, nearly no seats left; today was the public lecture by Professor Fan Ming of the History Department.

He is erudite and humorous in style; even dull, dry history, through his accessible and colloquial explanations, becomes distinctive.

Thus, not only history students but also those from other departments come to attend; every public lecture is packed to capacity, a testament to his popularity.

Among these many youthful, radiant faces, one small face stood out—pale as the moon in heaven, features like a painting, a pair of eyes exceptionally bright and clear, yet bearing a composure beyond her years.

It was Hu Xiaocao.

Her experimental elementary school is close to Nanchuan University; whenever there is a public lecture on weekends, Hu Xiaocao sneaks in to audit.

Due to her early intelligence and extraordinary insight, having even undergone various extraordinary baptisms, her grasp of classical literature is exceptional.

What interests her, aside from Chinese language and literature, is history.

Hu Xiaocao's presence quickly drew attention, after all, she was likely the youngest person present.

"Little sister, are you here waiting for your older siblings?"

The young man sitting beside Hu Xiaocao could not help but ask; he had regular features, a scholarly air about him, appearing gentle and refined.

Qi Xueqing curiously observed the girl before him; he was the one who previously posted the "Historical Mist" series online as a blogger, and also a student in the History Department.

Precisely because his major is history, he is especially interested in this and has done considerable research.

Hu Xiaocao shook her head, her tone lacking childishness, more calm and composed: "I came to attend the lecture."

Qi Xueqing was somewhat surprised; scanning Hu Xiaocao from the mountain base, he judged her to be at most eleven or twelve years old—so young to attend a university lecture, truly excessive diligence.

"I wouldn't have guessed you're so young and yet a little academic ace."

Facing Qi Xueqing's praise, Hu Xiaocao gave a faint smile, neither affirming nor denying.

Their conversation was overheard by others; many showed surprised expressions, looking toward Hu Xiaocao, not expecting children to have become this diligent nowadays.

"When I was her age, I'd probably still be snoring away at home."

"Truly, the waves behind push forward those ahead—today's youth are extraordinary; judging by her appearance, she should be in elementary school, yet here she is attending a university lecture."

"If even children are this driven, what excuse do I have not to strive?"

South Chuan University opened its doors to the public, and whenever weekend public lectures were held, people from other schools would come to attend, but it was still the first time for a little girl like Hu Xiaocao.

After a few words of discussion, everyone paid it no mind.

Soon an old man walked into the classroom—it was Professor Fan Ming.

He wore dark casual clothes, looked very easygoing, held a thermos in his hand, and gave everyone a warm smile.

"Thank you all for coming; fate has brought us together here, and I hope the content of this lecture will inspire you."

Seeing Professor Fan Ming arrive, the originally lively crowd instantly fell silent.

"Do you all know what the name of this teaching building is?"

Everyone answered in unison: "Taibai Building."

Fan Ming nodded, yet he sold a mystery: "Today's lecture topic is related to this name."

The students below couldn't help but murmur, their expressions revealing excitement and anticipation.

"Taibai? Could Professor Fan be talking about Li Bai today?"

"Li Bai is my favorite poet, without a doubt—his presence adorned the glorious Tang Dynasty, and in the realm of poetry, lyrics, songs, and rhapsodies, he truly was fed by heaven itself."

"Wine enters his heroic intestines, seven parts brewed into moonlight, the remaining three parts whistled into sword energy; with a puff from his embroidered mouth, half of the prosperous Tang appears—this describes someone like Li Bai."

"But I still prefer Du Fu."

"In every era, there is someone who leads the trend; Li Bai was the rising star of the glorious Tang Dynasty and an indispensable part of the brilliant cultural history of the entire Great Xia."

Seeing everyone eager and impatient, Professor Fan Ming quickly revealed the answer: "I believe you've already guessed it—yes, today we are talking about Li Bai."

"On Li Bai, we glimpse the glory and decline of the Tang Dynasty, experience the风云 of a thousand years ago, and encounter a soul that is unbridled, unrestrained, free-spirited, and ethereal."

Even his origins carry many legendary colors; the Old Book of Tang, in the Biography of Li Bai, records that Li Bai, courtesy name Taibai, was from Shandong, possessed rare talent, had lofty aspirations, and harbored a transcendent heart. His father served as the Magistrate of Rencheng, and due to family matters...

The New Book of Tang, Biography of Li Bai, however, presents a completely different version: Li Bai, courtesy name Taibai, was a ninth-generation descendant of the Xingsheng Emperor. His ancestors, at the end of the Sui dynasty, were exiled to the Western Regions due to crime; in the early Shenlong era, they fled back and became guests in the Western Regions. Li Bai's birth: his mother dreamed of the Tai Bai star, and thus he was named.

But no matter how it is said, the two characters "Li Bai" destined a life of dramatic rises and falls.

Everyone couldn't help but light up in their eyes, and even their bodies unconsciously straightened up, sitting properly, listening attentively to Professor Fan Ming's words.

As for this name, they could say it was thunderously familiar—after all, they grew up memorizing his poems since childhood.

Who hasn't memorized lines like "Raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, lower it to think of my homeland"?

Li Bai has been mentioned countless times in history; he never sought fame or official rank, yet held himself to high standards, feared no power, looked down on nobles and aristocrats, and stories circulated of "powerful warriors removing his boots," "the beloved consort holding his inkstone," "the emperor adjusting his soup," and "the dragon-patterned towel wiping his spittle."

If this were placed on someone from another dynasty, they would probably have died a hundred times over, but Li Bai still stands tall in the prosperous Tang—because he had the talent and arrogant confidence to back it up.

Around the same time, the famous poet Du Fu once commented on Li Bai's poetry: "When his brush falls, it startles wind and rain; when his poem is complete, even ghosts and gods weep." Wei Heng also said: "Li Bai contends with the ancients for excellence—three characters, nine phrases, ghosts emerge, gods enter."

Even the Tang Emperor Wenzong's imperial seal on Li Bai's poetry, Pei Min's sword dance, and Zhang Xu's cursive script are known as the "Three Excellencies," enough to show how highly contemporary people regarded Li Bai.

It is no exaggeration to say that without Li Bai, the Tang Dynasty would lose its vast, heroic spirit that swallows the eight directions; without Li Bai, the Great Xia would lose the romantic, unrestrained spirit passed down for thousands of years.

……

Professor Fan Ming spoke vividly, opening new perspectives; although everyone already knew Li Bai well, after his explanation, the figure from a thousand years ago became flesh and blood, and Li Bai, famed as the "Exiled Immortal," leapt vividly before their eyes.

"Regarding Li Bai, he wrote a vast number of poems in his lifetime; the exact count is now impossible to verify, but the ones that have been passed down exceed 900. I wonder which of his poems you all like best."

Soon, many students spoke up eagerly: "I like the arrogance in 'How can I bend my brows and waist to serve the powerful, just so I can lose my cheerful countenance?'"

"And also the generosity in 'Heaven gave me talent—it must be used; even if I spend all my gold, it will return again.'"

"Shouldn't it be the grandeur of 'A great peng rides the wind one day, soaring straight up ninety thousand li'?"

"What you're saying is a bit off—everyone should broaden their perspective; I think it should be the domineering aura of 'Ten steps, kill one man; a thousand miles, leave no trace.'"

"If you ask me, the most classic is still 'Raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, lower it to think of my homeland'—ten short words that fully express longing for home."

The originally silent classroom instantly became as noisy as a market, everyone expressing different views, each speaking their mind.

Even two students could be seen arguing, their faces red and ears flushed, over which line of poetry was best.

No matter which poem Li Bai wrote, picking out a single line could already be called a model; if one had to choose the very best, I truly can't think of it right now—I've been troubled to the extreme.

Professor Fan Ming smiled warmly, did not stop them, and said that being able to speak freely in class is a good thing.

"Actually, what you've said is all quite right—these poems do have traces to follow: some were written during Li Bai's travels, some from his感触 after touring mountains and rivers, and others from the rich inspiration after drinking—but—"

Professor Fan Ming shifted his tone, his face showing a hint of mystery: "The创作背景 of one poem is especially special—there is no concrete, clear object involved; it seems merely Li Bai's imagination, yet this imagination hides a layer of invisible mystery..."

Hearing this, the other students couldn't help but grow curious, unable to resist asking: "Professor Fan, stop teasing—what poem is it exactly? Could it really be that mysterious?"

Professor Fan Ming chuckled, seeing everyone's emotions stirred, and began to recite:

"A lofty tower rises a hundred feet high—hand can pluck the stars."

"Dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the people above!"

As Professor Fan Ming slowly spoke these lines, accompanied by the somewhat classical music from the speakers, for a moment everyone seemed to truly see a dangerous tower suspended in the azure heavens, as if the jade pavilions and crystal towers of the ninth heaven, where standing there and reaching out would allow one to pluck stars and embrace the moon.

After finishing the recitation, Professor Fan Ming said with lingering intent: "Indeed, this is the poem 'Night Stay at the Mountain Temple'!"

A student asked, puzzled: "People today believe this ancient poem was written by Li Bai in Huangmei County, Hubei Province, describing the Jiangxin Temple on the peak of Caishan Mountain in Huangmei County. But what's special about this poem? It seems nothing special at all—why would Professor Fan single out this one?"

Professor Fan Ming smiled: "One must not follow rules rigidly; one must innovate and discard the old. There's no rule saying what the ancients recorded must be correct. Later investigation shows that the claim about Jiangxin Temple has some doubts—actually, the location is not accurate."

"But in wild histories, there is also a saying—or rather, a legend."

"Li Bai, during his exile to Ye Lang, once saw a magnificent Daoist temple that came down from the ninth heaven, and even immortals resided within it—hence the line 'Dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the people above!'"

"Because this 'people above' refers to the immortals in that Daoist temple. And the one who can 'pluck the stars' naturally must also be an immortal. So Li Bai said 'Dare not speak loudly'."

"Based on this legend, another interpretation arises—namely, that the 'Jiangxin Temple' in the poem's title actually refers to a Daoist temple. Because in ancient times, 'temple' and 'observatory' were actually synonymous."

"Of course, this is merely a legend from wild histories—just listen to it casually."

After hearing Professor Fan Ming's words, everyone's imaginations ran wild: "Well, compared to Jiangxin Temple, this legend actually fits the image of the dangerous tower in the poem better."

"But if we truly take the 'Ninth Heaven Daoist Temple' as the reference, why is there not a single word about it in the relevant historical records, while the official histories mention Jiangxin Temple?"

"Perhaps later generations misunderstood—after all, times have changed, and no one knows what really happened back then."

"Or maybe we got it wrong—what if we used Jiangxin Temple as the basis, imagined and constructed the scene from there?"

Everyone discussed in fragments, debated for half a day, yet reached no conclusion.

Qi Xueqing, who was listening in the crowd, had his eyes slightly brighten, vaguely sensing that this history was unusual, somewhat similar to the historical fog he had previously researched.

"If it were merely imagination, it would seem somewhat inappropriate. But if it were real, what kind of structure could possibly uphold this five-character quatrain?"

Qi Xueqing murmured to himself, more inclined to believe Fan Ming's account of that legend—the Daoist observatory descending from the Nine Heavens—being more fitting to the scene described in the poem.

He couldn't help but feel a faint doubt: does the world truly have structures existing in the heavens?

Although the entire poem uses simple, natural language without excessive ornate diction, its mere twenty characters conjure magnificent imagination, exquisite craftsmanship, vivid lifelikeness, evoking rich associations and an immersive sensation.

Compared to the crowd marveling at the poem's atmosphere, Hu Xiaocao felt a slight stir in her heart.

"I dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the heavenly beings..."

As she silently recited the verses, she inexplicably felt the thick strand of purple qi within her body begin to flow slowly.

Though clearly in a noisy environment, those sounds became blurred, as if carrying her into a special space.

While others wore expressions of inquiry or excitement, Hu Xiaocao's face appeared especially calm; her deep, dark eyes resembled an unfathomable pool, unmoved by external changes.

Qi Xueqing unintentionally glanced over and was subconsciously drawn to Hu Xiaocao's aura.

Though the surroundings were bustling to the extreme, the girl beside him carried an air of incongruous stillness, as if she did not belong to this mundane world.

Meanwhile, Hu Xiaocao had already slowly closed her eyes, sensing that profound realm.

Faintly, she could see the moon hanging in the azure sky, the shadow of a Daoist observatory hidden within, elusive yet pervasive with endless mystery.

Vaguely, misty vapors rose in a hazy, ethereal manner, within which a divine serpent coiled in the high heavens, gazing down upon the mortal realm.

"Is it you, Mountain God?"

Time rippled with faint waves—deeply buried, enduring memories in the flow of time—that Hu Xiaocao vaguely perceived through the purple qi as a thread, a trace.

This strand of purple qi within Hu Xiaocao was precisely the blessing bestowed upon Longyuan Village when Ye Qin formed his Golden Core, accompanied by heavenly omens.

Back then, one attained the Dao, and chickens and dogs ascended to heaven; whoever touched the purple qi had their bodies transformed by heavenly and earthly spiritual qi, just like those villagers and Sun Zhenbang.

Because Hu Xiaocao shared the deepest karmic bond with Ye Qin and possessed outstanding talent, she absorbed more of the purple qi within her body.

Furthermore, with the ancient texts Ye Qin gifted her, she gained some insights into cultivation, enabling her to clearly sense the presence of the purple qi within.

This clearly distinguishes her from other villagers and Sun Zhenbang.

As for others, they remain unaware of the purple qi within their bodies, only passively receiving some enhancement; but Hu Xiaocao, though unable to control it, can clearly perceive it.

"Ding ling ling—"

Just then, accompanied by the ringing of the dismissal bell, people exited the classroom with lingering interest, still discussing classroom content in between the lines—keywords like "Great Tang" and "Li Bai" appearing most frequently.

The prosperity and flourishing of the Great Tang make people reluctant to leave, and Li Bai, hailed as the "Exiled Immortal," is even more a topic of delight; alas, like fleeting clouds and smoke, they will eventually fade, leaving behind endless history and mystery for later generations to comment on and speculate.

The flourishing Great Tang and Li Bai complement each other, giving rise to numerous historical stories passed down through generations.

As Fan Ming was about to leave the classroom, Qi Xueqing stopped him: "Professor Fan, I really enjoyed the lecture you just gave, and I am very interested in the ancient poem you mentioned at the end."

Qi Xueqing's Historical Fog series has not been updated for some time, with a large number of netizens urging him to continue in the comment section.

However, it is not that he does not want to, but that he cannot, for such a popular science column is not easy to produce, requiring substantial time for research, verification, and sourcing materials.

Qi Xueqing had previously found no leads; the cultural history of Xia spanning thousands of years is like the surging Yellow River—seeking anything related to the Historical Fog is undoubtedly as difficult as panning gold from turbulent waves.

The previous few episodes were based on his accidental encounters, but after attending this lecture, he now has a goal and ideas; the topic for the next episode is already decided: this ancient poem, "Night Stay at the Mountain Temple."

This is somewhat similar in spirit to "Chiseling the Boat to Seek the Sword."

Upon hearing Qi Xueqing's words, Fan Ming also became quite interested: "Does this student have any questions?"

"I believe that compared to historical records, Li Bai wrote about the Jiangxin Temple on the peak of Cai Mountain in Huangmei County, but I have visited that place before, and it still falls far short of the grandeur described in the lines of his poem."

Fan Ming gave Qi Xueqing a deep look, understanding the implication behind his words: "So you think the place described in Li Bai's poem might be elsewhere?"

Although Li Bai's imagination is rich, his descriptive verses about scenery do have real-world counterparts.

For example, where the Yellow River's waters come from, how high the Lushan waterfall is, how large the snowflakes on Yanshan are, how deep the Peach Blossom Pool is, how difficult the Shu Road truly is, not to mention Baidi City, Yellow Crane Tower, Dongting Lake, Huangshan, and so on.

Even if imagined from nothing, it is always based on some real landscape; it will never be baseless, like wind from an empty hole.

Moreover, the sense of awe in the poem overflows in words; from this, one can see that Li Bai must have witnessed similar scenes before, thus feeling moved to compose—otherwise, such profound sentiments would not arise.

As for exactly which place's scene this is, whether Li Bai saw it during his exile, or something else, this remains unknown.

After hearing Qi Xueqing's idea, Fan Ming nodded appreciatively.

"It seems you also have considerable research on history; our views are quite similar, but wild historical records are also very vague, with little material left. If you are interested in this aspect, you can leave me your contact information, and we can discuss further later."

Qi Xueqing was overjoyed: "Thank you, Professor Fan."

Fan Ming waved his hand, indicating no need to worry: "I am very glad the school has a diligent and eager-to-learn student like you."

As the two chatted, most people had left the classroom; besides Qi Xueqing and Fan Ming, only Hu Xiaocao remained seated, her eyes slightly closed, as if lost in endless reverie.

Fan Ming also noticed her presence and couldn't help but glance at her a few more times: "This little girl is quite interesting."

Qi Xueqing quickly said: "She came specially to attend Professor Fan's lecture."

Fan Ming was somewhat surprised, originally thinking Hu Xiaocao was waiting for someone or had other matters, so she hadn't left; he never expected she had come specially to attend his lecture, and his gaze grew kind and gentle.

He stepped forward and said: "Little friend, class is already over."

Hu Xiaocao startled awake, slowly opened her eyes—her eyes, clear and translucent like glazed porcelain, left Fan Ming somewhat dazed, as if he felt the girl before him possessed a special aura.

Unworldly and yet aloof, not of this mortal realm.

Hu Xiaocao blinked, emerging from that mysterious sensation just moments before.

Feeling the changes in the purple qi within her body, she did not know what kind of enhancement she had gained.

She had not expected that merely attending a lecture would make her feel something possibly related to the Mountain God.

Although Hu Xiaocao is young, her mind is mature; she showed no emotion on her face, but instead asked: "Teacher, when is your next public lecture?"

Upon hearing this, Fan Ming could not help but feel curious: "How much of this lecture's content can you understand?"

Hu Xiaocao humbly replied: "I can understand most of it."

In reality, she understood all of it, but she did not want to draw too much attention; even so, this level of understanding is already remarkably impressive.

Qi Xueqing couldn't help but inwardly click his tongue, admiring Hu Xiaocao's intelligence; if it were him at that age, let alone understanding half, it would be like listening to heavenly scripture—completely incomprehensible.

Looking at Hu Xiaocao's sincere face, for some reason, Fan Ming felt that the girl before him was not lying, because her eyes were too clear, without any worldly vulgarity.

Fan Ming's gaze became more kind and affectionate, looking at Hu Xiaocao as if looking at his own junior.

"Are you very interested in these?"

Hu Xiaocao nodded, as if thinking of something, "Because of the influence of an elder, I really like history and ancient literature."

Originally she wanted to say Mountain God Grandfather, but considering there were still outsiders present, Hu Xiaocao changed her wording.

Now that she has grown up, she is no longer as ignorant and naive as she was in childhood, and has understood many principles.

When outside, Hu Xiaocao never deliberately mentioned the Mountain God, nor the events that once happened on Longyuan Mountain, not even to her best friend at school, she kept her mouth shut and never told.

Fan Ming rubbed her head, "Studying history can bring wisdom; knowing the ancients enables one to judge the present; using history as a mirror can reveal rise and fall; having such an interest and hobby is quite good."

Actually, this is only part of the reason; Hu Xiaocao wants to understand the content and meaning in those ancient texts, her purpose being simply to cultivate!

Seeing Hu Xiaocao's eloquent speech and clear reasoning, Fan Ming grew even more fond of her, "Just now we were discussing Li Bai in class, what is your opinion of him?"

Hu Xiaocao pondered for a moment and said: "Li Bai wanted to become a peerless national hero like Su Qin and Zhang Yi, most desiring worldly fame and success, but unfortunately these are destined to make his life out of step with the times."

Unlike the previous students who lavishly praised, Hu Xiaocao's evaluation is neither laudatory nor derogatory; between the words lies a heavy sense of regret.

This indeed aroused Fan Ming's interest.

As for Li Bai's unrestrained and carefree nature, clearly a scholar, yet his body is filled with the aura of a knight-errant, wielding a long sword and walking through the prosperous Tang Dynasty, when the cold sword is drawn, it brings the heroic spirit of swallowing the eight directions, and he wrote incomparably magnificent poems.

Such conduct stood out uniquely in his time, yet later generations crowned him with the name of genius, and he is also the object of admiration for countless modern youths chasing the wind.

Due to the many halos from the outside world deepening, later generations have multiple filters on Li Bai; evaluations like Hu Xiaocao's are not many, but they are original and refreshing.

"In the 'Letter to Han Jingzhou' it is recorded: Bai, a commoner from Longxi, wandered in Chu and Han. At fifteen he loved swordsmanship, visiting all the feudal lords. At thirty he completed his writings, reaching the ranks of ministers and chancellors. Though his height did not exceed seven feet, his heart was heroic against ten thousand men."

"Viewed from a later perspective, this is Li Bai's job application letter to the contemporary high official Han Chaozong; obviously too blunt, and politically immature, but his enterprising spirit cannot be concealed."

During his youth he resided in Shu, the wondrous peaks and beautiful scenery of Shu Mountain, and the Daoist atmosphere of Qingcheng and Emei, which gave Li Bai's character a tendency toward romantic wandering and reclusion.

From the 'Xiake Criminal Sentence' one can see one or two, Li Bai admired men like Zhu Hai and Hou Ying, the great Liang city-state knights, who after finishing their affairs would dust off their clothes and depart, hiding their merit and fame. Even though these two were merely market folk.

In the age of war and turmoil it was still acceptable, at least one could see the king honoring the virtuous and humble, discerning eyes recognizing pearls, and it could still become a fine tale, but the prosperous Tang did not need peerless national heroes; such an identity and image would obscure the ruler's radiance.

"On the Clear Autumn Festival at Leyou Plain, the ancient road of Xianyang has no trace of sound. No trace of sound, the west wind and fading light, the Han tombs and palaces—perhaps this 'Remembering Qin E' best expresses Li Bai's mood."

What is the sound cut off on the ancient road of Xianyang?

Perhaps it is the sound of that era's knight-errant from yesterday—Su Qin, Zhang Yi, Ji Bu, Wei Prince, Zhu Hai, and so on, those who established fame and merit, all now gone, and thus Li Bai's ideal aspirations are destined to remain unfulfilled.

Before the eyes only remains the west wind and fading light, blowing Li Bai's robe to rustle loudly.

Hu Xiaocao's insight is unique, her words poetry and prose coming easily, revealing her deep literary foundation; hearing this, Fan Ming and Qi Xueqing were stunned, showing that what she just said was not baseless.

Fan Ming even laughed until he couldn't close his mouth, "If you were currently in university, I would definitely take you as my closed-door disciple."

Qi Xueqing also sighed deeply, the girl's few words before him could outshine many college students; this breadth of vision and intellect, even he who has long studied history felt ashamed.

Seeing Hu Xiaocao's unique insight, Qi Xueqing's interest was aroused, and he couldn't help but want to ask, perhaps he could hear a different answer from Hu Xiaocao's mouth.

"What do you think of 'Night Stay at the Mountain Temple'? The peculiarity Professor Fan mentioned about this poem lies in its reference object, which seems not to match historical records."

Because of the previous several periods of historical doubts, so Qi Xueqing believes there also exists historical fog in this poem.

Therefore he leans more toward that legend, that Li Bai once saw that divine Daoist temple, and thus wrote such astonishingly brilliant verses.

Hu Xiaocao pondered for a moment, inevitably thinking of the Mountain God Grandfather of Longyuan Mountain; in her recent insight, she also faintly inherited a thread of historical memory transmission.

Very subtle, yet very real, making her absolutely certain that the 'heaven and man' mentioned in Li Bai's poem must be the Mountain God Grandfather!

In this world, only the Mountain God Grandfather has such great ability!

But how could she possibly speak of this directly?

After Hu Xiaocao pondered for a moment, a look of reverie appeared on her face, and she murmured: "Perhaps there are immortals who can penetrate the long river of history, allowing the ancients to see, thus leaving behind many secrets."

Hu Xiaocao had something in mind, but obviously no one in this world could associate it with the truth.

Looking at Hu Xiaocao's innocent and childlike expression, Qi Xueqing and Fan Ming exchanged glances, not expecting her answer to be so unexpected; originally they thought she would cite classics and canons, but they did not expect her to take an unconventional path.

Seeming unreasonable, full of childish innocence, yet upon careful thought, completely unlike something a child could say.

For a moment, the air grew silent, no one spoke.

Fan Ming looked at Hu Xiaocao's young age, and a feeling of cherishing talent arose in his heart, "My office is in Room 203 of Mingzhi Building; if you have any questions in the future, you can come to ask me."

Hu Xiaocao's eyes seemed to have a layer of starlight, "Then thank you, Teacher Fan."

After all, he is the renowned professor of history and literature in Nanchuan; regardless of knowledge or vision, he is certainly different from ordinary teachers, and this trip was also an unexpected joy for Hu Xiaocao.

After the three talked for a while, seeing that time was late and it was time for lunch, they then went their separate ways.

Qi Xueqing prepared to leave, but saw a notebook on the table, flipped through it, and saw it filled with dense handwriting, the elegant characters catching his eye, exquisite yet carrying a touch of carefree feeling.

"Little sister, your notebook fell here."

Qi Xueqing looked up, and Hu Xiaocao had already left; he hurriedly chased after her, but found no trace of Hu Xiaocao.

Moreover, since it was mealtime, the campus crowd had become dense again, making it truly difficult to search for that small figure.

But no one noticed that in the crowd, several men were weaving through the roads on both sides, their eyes constantly scanning back and forth in the crowd, as if searching for something.

Among them, the man wearing black sunglasses couldn't help but complain: "This Hu Xiaocao, clearly a primary school student, why does she like to run to university to attend lectures?"

The man beside him, who was actually looking down at his book but in fact observing the surroundings' movements, said lightly:

"Perhaps he enjoys the lively atmosphere; this also works, making it easier for us to strike, this Hu Xiaocao is a boarding student; if she doesn't come out of primary school, we would find it hard to infiltrate, but in university there are not so many restrictions."

The university guards are not that strict, and one can still mix in, but for primary school it is not easy.

The skinny man took out a cigarette from his pocket, smoked beside them, exhaling clouds, his expression somewhat puzzled:

"This time the superiors let us kidnap a little girl for what? According to investigation, this Hu Xiaocao comes from a mountain village, has nothing of value on her, and is not worth our great effort."

The newspaper man is their leader, named Yang Wen, this time receiving orders from above to kidnap a girl named Hu Xiaocao.

"We just follow orders; the superiors naturally have their intentions."

The one directing Yang Wen and them is the previous overseas cultural relics trafficking organization, the previous museum's yellow talisman, which made the behind-the-scenes leader again have thoughts, in order to obtain mysterious Eastern power to cure illness, once again turning his attention to Longyuan Mountain.

However, previously they had sent several waves of people into the mountains, all of whom perished; this time the leader did not act rashly, but rather went to great lengths, finally obtaining detailed information about Longyuan Mountain.

Including the many supernatural events mentioned earlier, as well as the government's mountain closure afterward, it can be said to be described in great detail.

Of course, if one wanted to investigate these messages, it would not be difficult.

But whether it was the Mountain God causing trouble or some other unknown force, there is still no clear evidence to prove it.

To clarify the reason behind this, the leader planned to start with Hu Xiaocao, as from the obtained information, Hu Xiaocao was the first to make contact and also the one who indicated the existence of the Mountain God on this mountain.

Yang Wen scanned the surroundings and quickly spotted the target individual; among the many college students, Hu Xiaocao's stature and appearance were relatively conspicuous, not to mention they had been tailing her for a long time.

"Hu Xiaocao has appeared."

He hurriedly followed after her, and the others closely followed as well, but at this time there were too many people, so Yang Wen planned to wait until Hu Xiaocao went to a less crowded place before taking action.

The skinny man had a cigarette butt in his mouth, his expression somewhat indifferent, "This operation is too simple—just this little girl, one person could handle it, so why send so many of us?"

"It can't be said that way; this is also to ensure the operation is foolproof, as the higher-ups said, this time we absolutely cannot fail!"

(End of Chapter)