The younger wizards had limited knowledge.
The older wizards were evasive as well, offering no answer that satisfied Zheng Qing.
On Tuesday evening, before evening classes began, Zheng Qing made another trip to Sanyou Bookstore, intending to ask the gentleman directly what that leaf was for. But unsurprisingly, the bookstore was empty. The dust accumulated on the window frames seemed nearly an inch thick, and the pitch-black world behind the glass stood in stark contrast to the brilliantly lit nighttime view of the Pedestrian Street.
He raised his fist and slammed it against the door twice.
No one answered.
Fury rose in the young wizard's heart, and malice followed close behind. He pulled out his brush, dipped it in cinnabar, drew a circle on the glass, then left behind a huge character: "Demolish."
"—That's why I'm telling you, old man, handing this shop over to Little Qing won't work."
Inside the window, the Yellow Flower Cat looked at the vermilion character outside with undisguised glee. "The moment you leave, he might hang the bookstore contract across the street at Wander Bar and sell it off. Isn't there a saying? A son sells his grandfather's fields without feeling a shred of pain! Look at that—you're still alive, and he already wants to tear down your shop!"
The only reply was the long, drawn-out snoring from the recliner.
After a while.
The teapot began to boil.
Only then did the owner of Sanyou Bookstore seem to wake up. He let out a small yawn and snorted. "—Sell the bookstore? If this bookstore could be sold, would I have waited for him to take it over? I'd have sold it ages ago! It's like a snail's shell. What that child inherits isn't the bookstore, only the identity of its manager."
"Tch."