"One morning, I cast away yesterday, and from then on my steps became light."
—Tagore, Stray Birds
Zheng Qing felt that this line matched his mood perfectly, so he used his Quill Pen to draw a heavy wavy line beneath it. Then he stretched, closed the poetry collection in his hand, and looked up at the window.
Outside, it was daytime.
Birds sang in the shade of the trees, insects buzzed over the shrubs, Butterfly fluttered its wings to dodge the spit sprayed by the Grass Sprites, and flowers opened their smiling faces, watching the scene with cheerful laughter.
The sun warmed the earth, and a gentle breeze blew in through the window into the hospital room, brushing against his face—warm, soft, and wonderfully comfortable. The outdoor temperature was twenty degrees Celsius. The weather spheres made by the School Labor Committee ensured that the school received the right rain or snow, the right wind, and the right clouds at the right time and in the right place.
Welcome to First University.
This was a world that belonged to life.
Here, no wizard had to risk his life by sticking out his tongue to lick a rock freshly hauled from lava. Nor did any wizard scald off every hair on his body just to save a trace of Magic Power.
The wizards here simply lay on the grass, with a half-read Encyclopedia of the Wizarding World turned face-down on their chests. Their bamboo baskets were filled with soft cakes and sweet mung bean pastries, perhaps along with two cans of chilled Green Bee.
A stray cat ambled past the basket. Catching the scent of cake, it hesitated for a few seconds, twitched its whiskers, and strolled away without a care. A three-tailed squirrel silently slipped beneath the tree, grabbed a few