The little princess was torn, and the demon emperor patched her up

Chapter 116 I really want to see the truth of this world
"Wu Xiaoer, why are you here again instead of just lighting the fire in the kitchen?!"

A scolding sound came from the side.

Xiao Baojing looked in the direction of the voice. She had seen the young man who was speaking before. He was one of those white pigeon boys who were good at painting.

Wu Xiaoer had a towel on his shoulders. His overly thin body looked like he was stunted. He said earnestly, "I want to become your disciple and learn from you! I have been in the academy for three years. I beg you to teach me how to read, write, draw, and compose poems, in consideration of my sincere study!"

The pigeon boy retorted: "You were recruited as a fireman, not as a student! What's more, you have no money and no talent, so why should the teacher teach you?!"

"But I will try my best! Look, this is the flower, bird and figure I drew with burnt charcoal. Isn't it quite improved compared to three years ago?"

The man held out a wrinkled painting as if he were presenting a treasure.

The flowers, birds and people in the painting are crooked and make no sense.

Several white pigeon boys took one look and started laughing.

They waved their hands and said, "We can't understand what you draw. You should leave! Painting is not for you. You'd better be better off making fire in the kitchen!"

Spring passes and autumn comes.

Every three years, Wu Xiaoer would devoutly ask the teachers in the academy to teach him how to read, write, paint and compose poetry, and would show them the results of his hard work over the past three years.

But everyone laughed at his wild ideas and said that he had no talent for it at all.

The moon sets and the stars sink; time flies.

After thirty years, the Saint of Painting was finally about to complete all the murals in the temple.

It was a winter.

Wu Xiaoer appeared outside the temple again and shouted, "Painting Saint, please accept me as your disciple. I am willing to do anything! I can endure any hardship!"

The painting saint is immersed in the world of painting.

In another three hours, he will be able to complete this masterpiece!

This palace room filled with murals will become a masterpiece that will be passed down from generation to generation and will be remembered forever!

Light snow was falling outside the palace.

The snow gradually got heavier, falling on Wu Xiaoer's head and shoulders, almost turning him into a snowman.

And he is getting older.

Thirty years had left wrinkles on the corners of his eyes and brows, but his identity had not changed at all; he was still the kitchen stoker in the academy.

His cheeks were red from the cold, and he rubbed his frozen hands and said earnestly: "Please, Master of Painting, please accept me as your disciple!"

The white dove boys reappeared in the corridor.

They were dressed in feathered robes and looked reserved and elegant. They commented: "You didn't accomplish anything when you were young. Now that you are old, how can you have the energy to do anything? Wu Xiaoer, you should understand that you are old, and this is how your life will be."

"But when I was young, you refused to give me the resources to climb up, so of course I am still this useless now that I am old!" Wu Xiaoer argued, "I am in good health now, and I think I can live another ten years. Please accept me as your apprentice, I will definitely work hard to improve!"

The pigeon boys said, "It's too late. What can you do in ten years? In order to enter the academy, you have never married or had children. Not only have you missed the most exciting chapter of your life, but you will also have no one to rely on when you grow old. Listen to us and save more money for your retirement, so that you don't have a miserable old age."

"I live for myself. Getting married and having children is not important to me! I heard that the truth of the world is hidden in books. I want to learn more. I really want to see what the truth of this world is! Ten years is a long time. It is enough for me to learn many things! Please accept me as your apprentice. I really want to learn!"

The old man had a head full of white hair that almost blended into the snow.

He cupped his hands, his face pleading.

But the young men shook their heads: "It's too late! You are old and you are about to reach the end of your life. There is no need for you to learn anymore." The old man watched them holding their pens, ink, paper and inkstone, and entered the palace he had dreamed of for thirty years.

Snowflakes fell on his eyelashes and gradually melted into snow water.

He stood up tremblingly and watched the palace doors close in front of him.

After standing for a long time, he turned around and staggered into the snow.

People would pass by from time to time and point fingers at him: "He's the one who has stayed in the academy for thirty years and always wants to become a disciple! But he comes from a humble background and has no talent, so why would the master accept him as a disciple instead of other more outstanding students? Speaking of hard work, there are students who work harder than him!"

"This is called not knowing yourself, not knowing your own weight! As a person, it's okay if you can't learn other things, but the most important thing is to learn to accept your fate. If I were him, I would have found a way to make a living, married and had children eight hundred years ago! Why should I be poor and destitute at my age and be laughed at by others?"

The old man returned to the kitchen and heard the cooks laughing at him: "Wu Xiaoer, poetry, painting and writing are things that only the upper class can learn. Why do you, a fireman, need to learn these things? You only need to learn how to make fire in your life!"

"Hahahahaha!"

The jeers arose one after another.

Wu Xiaoer clenched his teeth tightly and his hands were clenched so tightly that they made a creaking sound.

He sat in front of the stove without saying a word and continued to light the fire until midnight, when the students finished their midnight snack and went back to their rooms to rest.

It was the dead of winter, the water froze and there was no one on the road.

Wu Xiaoer held buckets of kerosene and calmly poured them on various palace rooms.

He held up the torch and brought the red, burning flame to the kerosene.

The north wind was raging, flames instantly rose into the sky, and the raging fire quickly engulfed all the palaces.

All the precious books and scrolls were burned to ashes. Some teachers and students slept so deeply that by the time they realized what was happening, they had already inhaled too much smoke and could no longer get up and escape.

Wu Xiaoer's disheveled white hair and beard fluttered in the firelight.

He couldn't help laughing as he watched the so-called painting saint running barefoot into the palace, shouting "My paintings", and finally being burned to death along with the murals that he had painted for thirty years.

He held a torch and ran in the firelight and snow, laughing.

"If I can't learn it, you can forget about it!"

"Now I understand clearly that learning music, chess, calligraphy and painting is useless! The truth about the world is not in books, but only the hypocrisy you made up!"

"I want to learn how to become immortal. From now on, I want to learn how to become immortal! I want to be the best of the best!"

His voice was old and cheerful, his face was joyful and fierce.

He is obviously an old man, but his overly dry and thin body makes him look like a naughty boy.

There are contradictions in him.

The monsters hiding in the dark watched in horror as he gradually ran away, and finally ran out of the academy, not knowing where he went.

...

Xiao Baojing suddenly woke up from his dream.

She sat up and saw herself lying on the bed in the side room of the academy.

It was getting light outside the window, it was already early morning.

(End of this chapter)