Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 517 Fallen Leaves in Motion

Due to the restrictions of the bet, and with Shen Anzhi by his side, Zhu Wuyao did not interfere much with Mingzhu's growth.

Recently, rumors have been circulating in Changxiao Town.

First, the big merchants leaked the news that the city management office was in arrears with the final payment. In addition, the news that the corvée laborers were paid in previous years but not this year, and that there was no silver in the government treasury, gradually became uncontrollable.

Therefore, I hope you will no longer go out without being invited.

According to rumors circulating outside, just as initially planned, the fortune teller, Miss Wu, was arrested and imprisoned that day, and somehow got in touch with Li, the city management officer.

He made a prediction that "Changxiao Town and several nearby towns will encounter disaster in the future," and Li Chengguan believed it.

So they began to misappropriate money from the treasury to build high walls and exchange for grain.

We trade our present well-being for future disaster resilience.

Rumors are swirling around the outside world—

"That fortune teller was imprisoned back then, and he probably wasn't just spreading alarmist rumors to get himself out of trouble!"

"Li, the city management officer, is such a good person. Now he's been misled by slander and ruined by petty people..."

"Have you heard? A caravan wanted to cooperate with the city management office to buy our local mountain products, but because of this unfounded rumor, City Management Officer Li stubbornly refused to open the mountains!"

"That's more than that. You're really out of the loop. Remember last year when they fenced off a piece of land outside the city? The city management had already found workers to build a factory to make winter clothes, but they didn't have any money in the coffers, so the whole thing fell through."

"Just you wait, we'll have to raise the taxes we have to pay again!"

"There's nothing we can do if we don't mention it. If Li, the city management officer, is going to waste the money, then he'll have to squeeze it out of us."

"..."

As expected, in order to cover the shortfall, Li, the urban management officer, indeed raised the agricultural tax in the fall.

This prompted the crowd to hurl insults.

Because of Li Chengguan's years of hard work and dedication, the people under her jurisdiction are relatively tolerant of her.

They concluded that she was originally a good person, but had been misled by a villain. The "villain" in everyone's mouth was, of course, Zhu Wuyao.

Therefore, Zhu Wuyao rarely goes out now.

She often sought out secluded mountaintops to practice her swordsmanship, attempting to break through the shackles of swordsmanship and thus break through to the Nascent Soul stage. The rumors and gossip from the outside world did not disturb her.

It was precisely when the rumors were raging that Mingzhu paid another visit.

Time flies, and the bright candle has grown from a thin bud into a slightly taller tree, even though it came from a poor family and had very thin arms.

The clothes I wear always seem a bit loose.

Zhu Wuyao could tell that these were old clothes that someone else didn't want, probably belonging to her schoolteacher.

"The mentor you found for her is a wise man with both virtue and talent, and he has a broad vision, which is quite rare."

Shen Anzhi said this.

No sooner had he finished speaking than there was a knock on the door.

Perhaps it was because she was literate and knew proper etiquette that, despite her family's poverty and her still frail appearance, she possessed a vibrant, youthful energy.

"Sister Wu, may I come in?"

For two whole years after repaying the money, Mingzhu lingered around Zhu Wuyao, seemingly ashamed and unable to face her, yet he was always secretly watching over her.

Zhu Wuyao discovered more than once that Mingzhu was moving stones away from the path leading to the city for her.

It seemed as if they were afraid that she, being "blind," would trip over a protruding stone on the road.

Mingzhu often secretly followed Zhu Wuyao until she entered the city before turning away. This is why Zhu Wuyao no longer frequently went out to set up her stall.

With someone following her, she couldn't easily use her teleportation technique, so she could only slowly walk into the town...

Mingzhu was extra careful when doing these things. She had heard that blind people had good hearing, so she kept her distance, but she never expected that Zhu Wuyao could use his divine sense to identify objects.

The reason for this visit was the rumors circulating in the city.

She didn't understand why Sister Wu did this, so she asked her husband, who then told her:

"To do good deeds, kindness alone is not enough; you also need the courage to bear the consequences. Your Sister Wu might be a remarkable person. Why don't you go and ask her yourself?"

Mingzhu hesitated for a long time.

Perhaps it was because of this question, or perhaps it was because of this question that she had a reason to visit again. After receiving a response from the people in the courtyard, Mingzhu stepped into the small courtyard once more.

Zhu Wuyao waited for her for a long time.

Another autumn wind blows.

Throughout the courtyard, calligraphy written by Zhu Wuyao hangs, rustling softly, much like the scene when they first met.

But this time, Mingzhu could already read.

She looked around and saw the brushstrokes flowing like dragons and snakes, the ink seemingly about to burst from the paper. Amidst the fluttering Xuan paper, Mingzhu slightly widened her eyes and saw what was written on these sheets of paper. On the nearest sheet, it read—

"The face is gone, I know not where; but the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze."

Even though she had only been studying with Mr. Cui for three years, her innate intelligence had led to great progress, and she was already able to appreciate the beauty of such poems when they were presented to her.

"What a poem!"

“It is indeed a very good poem,” Shen Anzhi said with a smile.

Mingzhu finally snapped out of her reverie, which was filled with poems in the courtyard. She felt a little embarrassed, as she had come to visit Sister Wu but had ended up looking at the poems in the courtyard for a long time.

Before she could speak, Zhu Wuyao said with a smile:

"It's been a long time. Does Ah Zhu still want to learn to read with me?"

Mingzhu felt a little embarrassed. Of course, she couldn't tell Sister Wu that although she hadn't paid her a visit, she had always been secretly concerned about her. She could only reply:

“Three years ago, a heavy rainstorm struck in the autumn. A scholar surnamed Cui, whose carriage got stuck in the mud, happened to come to my house to take shelter from the rain, and that's how we formed a good relationship.”

Zhu Wuyao smiled and suggested:

"It's always good to have more skills. How about learning to write poetry with me?"

Shen Anzhi, who was standing to the side, looked up and glanced over, his eyes seemingly misty, as if he were examining whether learning poetry would cause significant fluctuations in Mingzhu's fate.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

After Mingzhu left.

Shen Anzhi closed his eyes and pondered.

In Zhu Wuyao's interactions with Mingzhu, it seemed that learning poetry would not cause any fluctuations in his destiny, but his intuition as a diviner made him somewhat doubtful.

He reached out and picked up the poem hanging in the courtyard, carefully reading it. The poem was good, but it did not contain the "cryptic divination" he had imagined.

"Junior Sister Zhu, is there anything else hidden in the poem?"

"Senior Brother Shen is overthinking it. You are well-versed in literature and always have a book in your hand. If there is any hidden meaning in the poems, you will be the first to figure it out."

Shen Anzhi's gaze fell on the Xuan paper, but he didn't notice anything unusual. After a moment's thought, he smiled and asked:

"Could it be that, just like your method of manipulating the karmic connections of all beings using stones in the forest, this piece of Xuan paper conceals your 'little trick' of using auspicious purple energy to borrow cause and effect?"

Unless the purple aura meets directly, any manipulation using this method would be difficult for even a divination practitioner to detect.

He took another one—

"Don't adjust your shoes in a melon patch, and don't straighten your hat under a plum tree."

"Or perhaps, there is a consistent principle within these verses, and Junior Sister Zhu wants to subtly influence her views?"

The evening breeze rustled the fallen leaves, mingling with the sound of the rice paper trembling.

I don't know if it's the falling leaves that are moving, or the ink characters that are moving.

If you want to deceive a cultivator, you cannot use spiritual power; if you want to deceive a divination cultivator, you must do so quietly and patiently, waiting for the right moment to unleash your full potential.

Shen Anzhi had never held a sword before.