Shen Le: Does Repairing a Bamboo Flute End with Stir-Fried Bamboo Shoots and Meat?

"Grow!"

"Grow!"

"Grow, grow, grow!"

"Ugh... Crooked again..."

Shen Le had plunged headfirst into his battle with the flute. After ruining two bamboo flutes, he steeled himself, went to the shopping street, and hauled back a bamboo chair and a bamboo bookshelf.

Both pieces of furniture were made from ordinary green bamboo, sawed, split and shaped, coated with clear varnish, then simply nailed together.

The chair alone had at least twenty or thirty bamboo strips. The bookshelf had no fewer than forty or fifty.

He could pull off any strip, or split one open a little, to practice his spell.

If he got it right, the strips would grow smoothly, and the chair and bookshelf would stay square and straight. Sitting on the chair,

leaning against it, or putting things on the shelf would all feel perfectly fine;

if he got it wrong, the chair's four legs would end up different lengths and wobble, while the uneven strips

would leave the seat, backrest, and shelves lumpy.

That way, he could see the spell's effect at a glance and adjust his control accordingly. It beat working on a bamboo flute bit by bit...

Shen Le pulled off a strip, split a narrow crack down its middle, poured on water mixed with nutrient solution, gave it a moment to soak in, and cast a spell.

Green light swept over it. The strip trembled and began to grow. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Even though he cut off the spell at once, the strip kept growing. It did not even need to form a bamboo tube

or regain its round shape. It simply went on growing and growing.

In one burst, it lengthened by over half a foot. As it stretched, it spread outward on both sides, turning from a flat strip two fingers wide