Sòng Míng thanked him for his sharing and said it wasn’t necessary.

Then the farmer Lín Zhúshēng bent down and went to harvest, really not even letting a single stone go. After clearing all the wood, he took a look around and went to find the manager to check the results. The manager was the same person who had been responsible for the registration before. When he saw the empty space, he couldn’t help but adjust his single-lens glasses, confirming again and again, and verified through the stumps still on the ground that this was indeed the task area that had been assigned before.

Not only were the trees gone, but it seemed there weren’t many stones left on the ground either. When he glanced over, he only saw a disciple with an expectant face, along with another person, Sòng Míng, who had a rather complicated expression beside him. Not recognizing who had created this place that could either be said to be thoroughly cleaned or like a locust plague, the manager stuck to his duties and didn’t ask much, directly handing over the rewards.

Two hundred silver and a randomly generated small prop that was shaped like a circle. Not in a hurry to check the small prop, Lín Zhúshēng tucked it into his sleeve and, after thanking the manager, turned to split the reward with his good fellow disciple, dividing the bonus in half.

His good fellow disciple wasn’t short on money and treated him like free labor, so they didn’t need to split the bonus. It was a very good day; he earned another two hundred silver. Taking advantage of the fact that it wasn’t dark yet, Master Lín, who had made a big profit, quickly said goodbye to his good fellow disciple and headed back.

He had to go back to work on his wooden box. Not to brag, but given his level of clumsiness, it wouldn’t be surprising if he fiddled with it for an entire night.

Before changing into a new set of clothes and getting ready, he remembered the random small prop still tucked in his sleeve, so he finally took it out to take a look.

[You have obtained: Blue Headband (Defense Bonus 2%) x1]

It was a rolled-up headband, white with a bit of blue trim, and it looked pretty good. The best part was that such a small item came with a bonus, which was just great.

He replaced two ragged strips of cloth with the new headband, twisting it around his hair in a messy fashion. In terms of style, the new headband didn’t differ much from the previous cloth strips; both were wrapped in a unique way, each with its own ugliness.

Regardless of the style, as long as it stayed put, it was good craftsmanship. After roughly securing the headband, Lín Zhúshēng pushed his hair back, pulled out the small parts needed to make the wooden box from the cabinet, and began to work.

The window facing the bamboo forest was open, and the lamp on the desk was lit, casting a warm yellow light outside, falling on the slanted bamboo leaves, swaying gently, with continuous knocking sounds coming from inside the room.

By the time it was well past midnight, the warm yellow light finally disappeared, and the wind was filled with quiet sounds.

When the academy started to have people in the morning, a certain room was still quiet. The person who had been busy all night turned over in bed, scratched his neck, and continued to sleep.

As the academy gradually became lively, the person lying in bed changed to lying flat. The shadows outside the academy gradually decreased from many to few, and the person who had been sleeping in was awakened by the sunlight, opening his eyes for the first time.

While some were still asleep, Sòng Míng had already arrived at the academy.

It wasn’t that he was late every day; whether he could catch the teacher’s lecture depended on how early he left home, with the chances of being on time or late being about fifty-fifty.

Today, he had left early, and when he arrived at the academy, there was still some time before the lecture started, with disciples heading to the classroom along the roadside.

Not following them into the classroom, he glanced at the crowd and then withdrew his gaze, leaning against the outer wall of the academy.

People came and went beside him, and someone who seemed familiar but whom he didn’t recognize stopped, inviting him to go into the classroom together, kindly reminding him, “The teacher will be here soon, Sòng brother, you’ll be standing outside again.”

The fact that he was often late had become common knowledge, and the others passing by laughed. Sòng Míng chuckled a bit, waved his hand to let them go first, saying, “I still have some things to do.”

So the others left, stepping up the steps to the main door.

As the number of people passing by decreased, those who were late hurried their pace, and before the lecture began, only a few stragglers remained, barely making it in time.

A sound of air slicing through the sky came from the horizon, faint yet very present, and then the sound disappeared as the teacher arrived right on time.

The lecture began, and he was destined to be an auditor, just like those who hadn’t arrived yet.

The wind rustled the leaves, the shadows of the trees danced, and occasionally a bird chirped. Sòng Míng leaned against the wall, looking up at the leaves, and after hearing the bird’s call for what felt like the umpteenth time, he finally heard faint footsteps approaching from a distance, and a figure appeared.

“Hoo—hoo—”

Lín Zhúshēng arrived after the teacher had already started the lecture for a while, still running in a chaotic manner, breathing heavily as if he might as well not breathe at all.

With today, he had already been late for three consecutive days.

Yesterday, he had spent half the day fiddling with the wooden box, and he had gone to bed too late. The little snowball, fearing he might create something strange, stayed up with him, and they both slept soundly this morning, missing the wake-up call. Now, as he ran, the little cat was still sleeping soundly in his clothes.

Being late was more of a psychological challenge; no one would understand the sense of relief and joy that came from seeing classmates at the school gate while rushing in.

His breath was no longer heavy, and his heart was no longer racing. He slowed his pace and strolled forward, casually saying, “You’re late too.”

With a companion, this person exuded a carefree attitude with every step, easily lifting his feet up the steps, entering the academy as naturally as if it were his own home. Sòng Míng followed up and asked, “What happened today?”

Lín Zhúshēng briefly recounted the glorious achievement of creating a complete wooden box, paired with the dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t faded since the day they met, making it quite convincing.

Sòng Míng clapped his hands in praise and took out a square box from his pocket, handing it over.

Lín Zhúshēng accepted it, opened it, and found a small snack inside. It was a lovely light green color, with a slightly pink interior, and as soon as he opened it, a fragrant smell wafted out. Sòng Míng said, “It was sent from home; I thought you would like it.”

As long as it was an extra gift, Lín Zhúshēng liked it. He didn’t expect that with a favorability level of just over forty, he could already trigger the gift-giving event. His eyes curved into a smile, and he generously took a bite right there.

It was delicious, with a sense of delicacy that was different from the usual raw fruit, and it had a hint of bamboo and peach blossom fragrance. Slightly raising his head, he didn’t hesitate to give a thumbs up.

Perhaps because he praised it so enthusiastically, his good fellow disciple’s favorability level increased a bit more.

When they arrived at the classroom, the teacher had indeed already been lecturing for a while. The only change was that today, there was one more unfortunate soul standing outside to listen, who shivered when he saw them coming, and his already red face turned an explosive red, quickly dropping his head.

The blushing guy was embarrassed to be late, while Lín Zhúshēng was used to it and warmly approached, bringing Sòng Míng along to nibble on the snack while engaging in friendly exchanges with his fellow latecomer, even offering fruit in an attempt to invite him to have breakfast first.

The influence of a super outgoing person was indeed limitless; before the blushing guy could react, the fruit was already in his hand, and they exchanged glances, both faces flushed.

Without any effort, Lín Zhúshēng handed out the fruit, nibbling on the snack while glancing sideways, only then noticing that his good fellow disciple was actually holding a book.

He recognized this book; he had stayed up late reading it before, and it was one of the required reading materials.

After a brief recollection, he remembered that this person usually came to the classroom empty-handed, often with various strange weeds in hand, but never with a book, so he asked, “What made you remember to bring a book today?”

Sòng Míng simply replied, “I remembered, so I brought it.”

A very casual reason, and Lín Zhúshēng didn’t suspect anything, pulling out a piece of fruit from his pocket to congratulate him on finally remembering.

“……”

A few figures outside the window suddenly moved, creating a scene of celebration and excitement. The teacher in the classroom turned to look, his eyelids twitching.

The classroom’s glass transmitted sound in one direction only; it could only be heard from inside to outside, not the other way around. He couldn’t hear the noise, but it didn’t stop him from seeing how lively the conversation was outside.

As the person in the middle pulled out the fruit, intending to take a bite, recalling that he hadn’t eaten these in a long time, the teacher’s brow twitched, and he ultimately couldn’t help but speak up, waving his hand, “You three, come in.”

After squatting outside for two consecutive days, Lín Zhúshēng finally entered the classroom by his own merit.

Sitting down in the last position by the window, facing the gazes of his fellow disciples, he didn’t take out the fruit or chatter; he simply placed the book on the desk, sitting up straight like a green bamboo. A glance would make him look like a good student.

Fortuitously, he went from standing outside to sitting in the classroom, and for some reason, the blushing guy’s head drooped even lower, as if he wanted to bury his head directly on the desk and disappear from this world.

Ignoring the gazes of others, Sòng Míng slowly turned the pages of his book.

The classroom was different from outside; there were no bird calls or wind sounds, only the teacher’s voice lecturing and the occasional sound of pages turning.

The sound of turning pages from one side gradually slowed down, and he turned to look beside him, seeing the good student by the window had gone from sitting up straight to propping his face on one hand while reading, silently yawning.

Retracting his gaze, he continued to look at the book on his desk.

“……Rustle rustle.”

Sitting in the classroom listening to the lecture was indeed a tough ordeal; by the halfway point of the class, the disciples sitting in their seats began to move unconsciously, making slight noises.

There were continuous sounds coming from the front, but the last row was completely quiet, or rather, the ones who were usually the most lively and noisy were maintaining an unusual silence. Something was off; Sòng Míng stopped turning the pages and turned to look towards the window.

“……”

The first thing he saw was a book standing up, and then he noticed the person with their head buried on the desk.

Because he was late this morning, he hadn’t had time to tie up his long black hair, which fell down, mingling with his gray clothes, draping over the seat cushion, contrasting sharply with his pale skin, and his body was rising and falling rhythmically.

Using the standing book as an insurmountable wall, this person was sleeping soundly beneath it.

It turned out he hadn’t become more obedient; he had simply fallen into a deep sleep.