As time passed, the knots accumulating in Ai Qinglan's hands gradually grew more numerous.
"Weaving poems of life"—that was how some artsy young man of the Nan Clan understood Ai Qinglan's work. And once it had been described in certain mystic charlatan terms, Ai Qinglan's research truly did carry that kind of flavor.
The essence of life was, in truth, the transmission of spiritual resonance within one's bloodline. It would not be wrong to say that this spiritual resonance was written in a "language" beyond ordinary people's imagination. It was simply that, under normal circumstances, this "language" was not understood by anyone.
Yet Boso of the Nan Clan possessed an astonishing intuition. Based on the "models" Ai Qinglan gave him, he could perceive certain patterns within them and swiftly twist out the "long chains" Ai Qinglan wanted.
Now, Boso needed only a few hours to complete a knot imitating Path of Living Beings Source.
But Ai Qinglan had likewise fallen into a predicament.
"I don't know whether it's a problem with my understanding." Whenever she rested, she would say this to Chen Feng: "I'm starting to doubt it now... Perhaps Boso's 'Poem of Loops' isn't the answer I'm looking for."
Chen Feng would always comfort her like this: "It's fine. This is only one attempt."
"That feeling when you've reached the final kick at the goal, yet you're still just a tiny bit short..." Ai Qinglan grabbed at her hair in frustration. "I keep feeling that I've missed something... What did I miss? Ahhh, it feels as though someone is playing a prank on me."
"A prank?" A faint smile appeared on Chen Feng's face as well.
"Yes. When we were children, I tricked you into piecing together a broken porcelain vessel. Then, because I hid one piece and refused