Chapter 55: Anyone Could Do This, Right? (Please Subscribe First!)

After moving around in PE class, everyone felt much more energized.

Returning from the blazing sun outside to the air-conditioned classroom, the rush of cold air was a delight that swept from their toes to the tips of their hair.

There were two standing air conditioners in the classroom, both controlled centrally by the school. At this moment, the boys clustered around each unit, their faces dripping with sweat, wishing they could shove their heads inside the cool breeze.

“Damn it, Zihan, you stink! Your sweat is all over me! Why’s it so sticky?!”

“Get lost—like you smell any better!”

“Can you boys stop polluting the air? The whole classroom reeks of sweat!”

“You’ll get used to it if you breathe it long enough. Didn’t you learn about adaptation in biology?”

“Gross!”

Lin Mengqiu, with her mild obsession for cleanliness, looked as though she'd had enough. She frowned but didn't chase the sweaty boys away. Instead, she opened the window to let in some fresh air.

Thank goodness Chen Shian didn’t smell bad. Otherwise, she’d have docked him forty points and begged her dad to swap her seatmate at once.

Of course Chen Shian didn’t stink—he hadn’t even broken a sweat! But even if he did, he wouldn’t smell. Thanks to his cultivation, both body and mind were pure. Only when he first entered the Dao and absorbed the essence of heaven and earth did his body expel real filth—an odor so foul Fat Mo nearly fainted. His master had pinched his nose and tossed him into the mountain pool for half a day, then burned twenty pounds of pinewood, scrubbing him clean with the ashes before he was satisfied.

Perhaps he’d been marinated by that experience; ever since, Chen Shian always carried a faint scent of pine and grass about him.

His sense of smell was keen, and his hearing even sharper. When Lin Mengqiu walked to her seat moments ago, he clearly heard the deep breath she took as she passed by.

What’s she doing, trying to sniff if I smell? The class monitor is really something!

Lin Mengqiu was already back to her usual self. Her hair, tied up in a high ponytail, had yet to be let down. As she drank water, the ponytail swayed, and loose strands at her nape fluttered in the breeze, brushing gently against her slender neck like untied cotton threads.

The embarrassing episode during the fitness test seemed to have slipped her mind; once again, her delicate face wore that cool, proud expression that warned strangers away.

But perhaps she hadn’t quite managed to forget it entirely—one step remained.

After finishing her drink, she glanced at Chen Shian out of the corner of her eye, saw he was drinking too, and decided to wait until he finished.

Just as Chen Shian put down his bottle, he heard a barely audible “thank you,” as soft as if imagined.

“Huh?”

The sudden gratitude caught Chen Shian off guard. He turned to look at Lin Mengqiu, but she didn’t glance his way, busying herself with preparing the next lesson’s textbook as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Monitor, were you talking to me?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

This time, Lin Mengqiu spoke louder, though she still didn’t look at him.

“Uh… oh—don’t mention it, it’s nothing, ha ha.”

……

Finally, Lin Mengqiu turned to look at him. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the memory resurfaced. She shot him a fierce glare, then ignored him completely.

She felt that if she sat with him any longer, she’d soon come down with “Oh-oh Stress Disorder.”

……

The last class of the day was Chinese.

There was little to say about that. As one of the three core subjects, and with Teacher Liang himself instructing, Chen Shian didn’t dare slack off as he did in math and English. He followed the lesson diligently.

Though other teachers found Mr. Liang somewhat snarky, his teaching skills were beyond reproach. He focused on exam-taking techniques and proper standards—precisely what Chen Shian lacked in Chinese.

In Mr. Liang’s words: “None of you are literary prodigies; I don’t expect you to be. Just use what little literary sense you have to get the highest score possible.”

If one spoke of literary accomplishment, Chen Shian was probably the best in the class. Ironically, his test scores were the lowest. He listened attentively, hoping his scores would finally match his ability—after all, it was the only subject left in high school where he could still learn from a teacher.

Having Chinese as the last class was a trial. Mr. Liang’s infamous habit of running overtime was well-known among the students. Today, Chen Shian experienced it firsthand.

The bell had rung, yet Mr. Liang insisted on finishing the question. Nothing wrong with that… but—

“Since we’ve covered the last question, we might as well go over this one too!”

Chen Shian’s eyelid twitched.

……

At last, the bell rang for dismissal, and the students surged out in a rush.

“Damn, with all that overtime, the courts will be full!”

“Wanna just eat instead?”

“Are you crazy? The cafeteria line will kill you now!”

“Then let’s go back to the dorm?”

“Hey, slow down! Don’t you run off—let’s shower together!”

Except for Chen Shian and Lin Mengqiu, all their classmates lived in the dorms. Eating and showering required queuing, and in the blink of an eye, the classroom was empty save the two of them.

Today was their turn on duty—they had to clean the classroom before leaving.

“Sweep the floor, take out the trash, wipe the blackboard, straighten the desks,” Lin Mengqiu stated.

“All right.”

Chen Shian rose and walked to the back corner to fetch a broom. There were ten, most of them battered and worn. The brooms he’d made from bamboo at the Daoist temple had lasted five years; he couldn’t imagine how these could be so dilapidated.

Did everyone use them as swords or something?

He picked out the two best ones, keeping one for himself and leaving the other for Lin Mengqiu.

She didn’t come over right away but went to wipe the blackboard first, then the lectern, before joining Chen Shian to sweep.

Seeing that he started with the first row, she began at the fourth.

When she was silent, he was silent too.

In the spacious classroom, only the crack of brooms against desks and the soft swish against the floor could be heard. Bits of paper, dust, and litter gathered into small piles in the aisles as they swept.

Occasionally, Lin Mengqiu glanced at him.

Chen Shian swept with utmost seriousness; his expression betrayed no hint of annoyance at the chore—only focus and care.

He moved quickly, the battered broom obeying him as if new. By the time he started on the second group, Lin Mengqiu was only halfway through the fourth.

“Did you and your master live alone on the mountain?”

Her voice broke the silence, not loud but clear enough for him to hear.

“Yes, and a cat.”

“A cat?”

“A very fat black cat.”

He spoke as he swept.

After two days as desk mates, this was the first time Lin Mengqiu had asked about his life on the mountain.

“Did you have to do a lot of… chores up there?” She struggled to find a suitable word.

“Yes, but we usually called them ‘odd jobs.’ Those were mostly my responsibility at the temple.”

“What did odd jobs include?”

“Every morning, I’d fetch water from the spring to fill the cisterns, then prepare breakfast. We kept chickens in the backyard, so I’d feed them after I ate. Before noon, I’d cook lunch. In the afternoon, I’d sweep the courtyard, wipe the altar tables and chairs, clean fruit plates, tea trays, incense burners, weed the grounds… We also grew vegetables by the outer wall—I’d water them every evening, pick the good ones, then make dinner and heat water for a bath.”

“All that? You were so busy.”

“Not really. Each task had its time and order. Some didn’t need doing every day. After a while, it became habit—when I saw the cistern empty, I fetched water; if there were leaves in the yard, I swept them up.”

“Did you have time to cultivate the Dao?”

“Life comes first, then the Dao. Our temple is poor and small—no one to wait on my master and me so we can focus on cultivation. My master always said that cultivation detached from life isn’t the proper Way.”

“When did you start doing all that?”

“Since I can remember—I took on what I could as I grew.”

“Your master didn’t help?”

“Once I grew up, my master stopped most of his own work. He just taught me and kept the temple running.”

……

Lin Mengqiu found it difficult to imagine the life Chen Shian described, able only to piece together an image from his brief words.

It was truly a world entirely different from her own.

Lost in thought, the two of them met in the middle of the third row with their brooms.

Lin Mengqiu felt a little embarrassed—he’d already swept two and a half sections, while she’d only done one and a half.

But clearly, Chen Shian didn’t mind. He fetched the dustpan, swept up the debris, and looked up to ask,

“Monitor, can you do household chores?”

“Of course I can.”

“What can you do?”

“Sweeping, mopping, wiping tables and windows—everyone can do those, surely.”

She said this, but her gaze drifted away, a little sheepish. Being able to do something didn’t mean she actually did it. It had been ages since she’d done any chores—her father never made her.

If you had to count household chores, it was either something she’d volunteered for or something her father asked her to do. Compared to Chen Shian, who had made these tasks a habit, it was a far cry.

“Can you cook?”

“…No.”

“Can you make rice?”

“Yes.”

“Can you boil water?”

“Who can’t boil water!”

Lin Mengqiu raised her head, her previously timid voice now full of confidence.

To Chen Shian, it sounded less like “I can boil water” and more like “I can build a rocket.”

He chuckled inwardly.

So the monitor was on par with Xiao Zhi—both had reached the Realm of Boiling Water…

He didn’t know many girls, but comparing Lin Mengqiu to Sister Wanyin, who could do chores, cook, and make mung bean soup, it was like comparing people from different worlds.

……

After cleaning, the two carried the trash can downstairs together, just as they had in the morning.

But this time, they were much more in sync. At least, as they walked to the door with the bin, it didn’t bang into Chen Shian’s heel in a hurry.

Well, perhaps it was because the classroom was empty and there was no rush for morning reading; Lin Mengqiu seemed more relaxed.

When they returned, the trash can in place, the brooms put away, their duty for the day was done.

Chen Shian checked the time: it was already 5:35 p.m.—an hour until evening study hall.

He hadn’t eaten yet.

Lin Mengqiu hadn’t eaten or showered.

But there was always enough time.

“Monitor, want to eat together?” Chen Shian invited naturally.

Lin Mengqiu wiped her hands with a tissue, her expression calm, as if she hadn’t heard him.

Just as Chen Shian was about to repeat his question, she spoke—

Her voice was like a porcelain chip dipped in spring water, touching the air so lightly, without a ripple.

“Aren’t you going to eat with Wen Zhixia?”