The next day, Mr. Zhuang, rarely, did not sleep in. When he saw Mo Hua, he beckoned to him. "Mo Hua, come with me."
Mr. Zhuang brought Mo Hua to the study and asked, "That Three Talents Array—how many times have you practiced it?"
Mo Hua felt deeply grateful to Mr. Zhuang and had not wanted to hide anything from him, but the matter of the Dao Stele was somewhat mysterious, and he could not quite bring himself to speak of it. Yet he also did not want to lie, so he answered frankly:
"Sir, I practiced it three or four times on paper, then seven or eight more times in my dreams."
It was the truth; he simply had not mentioned the Dao Stele.
Mr. Zhuang was slightly startled. "In your dreams?"
"Mm," Mo Hua said. "After I fall asleep, I can keep drawing arrays in my dreams."
Mr. Zhuang's brows furrowed faintly. He looked at Mo Hua, only to find Mo Hua's expression sincere, his eyes so clear they seemed able to reflect his own image.
Mr. Zhuang laughed despite himself. "I understand."
Understand what...
Mo Hua looked at Mr. Zhuang in confusion.
Mr. Zhuang pondered for a moment, then looked at Mo Hua and instructed him:
"Say those words only to me. From now on, no matter who asks, you don't need to answer, and you must not mention anything about drawing arrays in your dreams."
"Then what if someone digs to the roots of it?"
"If someone digs to the roots of it, just do as I said before: say it's because you learned the Meditation Technique, so you learn arrays quickly."
"Then what if someone asks me for the method of the Meditation Technique?"
Mr. Zhuang said indifferently, "If you can avoid giving it, don't