On the third day after the Hidden Weapon tournament ended, the dean of Nuoding Academy made a bold decision! He invited Yi Yun to give a lesson to the entire student body.
The decision sparked fierce debate at the faculty meeting. Some teachers felt that although Yi Yun was a Titled Douluo, he was not a professional educator and might not teach any better than they did.
Other teachers felt that precisely because Yi Yun was a Titled Douluo, his words carried weight, and the students would be more willing to listen. The dean overruled all objections. "Mr. Yi Yun is an honored guest of Nuoding Academy. Having him teach a lesson is our privilege. That settles it."
And so, news that Yi Yun would be teaching spread throughout the academy. The students erupted with excitement. A teenage Titled Douluo was going to teach them in person-something beyond their wildest dreams. That very evening, some students went to Back Hill to scout out the area, hoping to secure good spots in advance. Before dawn the next day, a long line had already formed outside the auditorium, even more outrageous than the scramble for New Year supplies.
Xiao Wu dragged Yi Yun out from under his covers.
"Brother Yun, get up! It's time for class!"
"What class?"
"Did you forget? You're teaching the entire academy today!"
Yi Yun opened his eyes and stared blankly at Xiao Wu. "When did I agree to that?"
"The dean came to see you yesterday, and you agreed."
"Why don't I remember?"
"You were asleep."
"I could agree while I was asleep?"
"You said 'mm,' then rolled over and went back to sleep."
Yi Yun fell silent for a moment. He more or less understood-the dean had asked him while he was half asleep, he had said "mm," and that had somehow become an agreement.
"That dean really knows how to pick his moment." Yi Yun sat up in bed and rubbed his hair.
Xiao Wu handed him a clean set of white clothes. "Hurry up and change. The students are all waiting."
"How many?"
"The whole academy, plus the teachers. Probably over three hundred."
"Over three hundred?" Yi Yun took the clothes. "They're coming to hear me lecture? What do I have to talk about?"
"Anything. You're a Titled Douluo. They'll believe whatever you say."
Yi Yun thought about it and decided that made sense. He got dressed, washed his face, and followed Xiao Wu toward the auditorium.
The auditorium was packed. Every one of its three hundred-odd seats was occupied, and even the aisles were filled with standing students. The teachers sat in the front row, with the dean right in the middle, looking solemn, as though he were attending some important ceremony.
Tang San sat in a corner, still holding a carrot-not for himself to eat, but for Xiao Wu. She had said she needed to cheer Yi Yun on and had no time to hold a carrot, so she had asked Tang San to hold it for her.
Zhu Zhuqing sat beside Tang San, her face expressionless but her ears pricked high. Ning Rongrong had claimed a good spot in the front row and was holding up a sign with large characters reading, "Handsome Master is the handsomest." Xiao Wu's face darkened when she saw Ning Rongrong's sign. Why hadn't she thought of making one?
"Let's welcome Mr. Yi Yun with a warm round of applause!" The dean stood and led the clapping.
Thunderous applause erupted, more than three hundred pairs of hands clapping with earthshaking force.
Yi Yun stepped onto the podium through a side door. He wore white today, his hair casually tied behind his head with a ribbon, looking clean-cut and strikingly handsome. Some of the girls in the audience screamed.
Yi Yun stood on the podium, looking at the three hundred-odd expectant faces below, and remained silent for three seconds. Then he spoke.
"Cultivating Soul Power isn't important."
The entire hall fell silent. As though someone had pressed pause, everyone froze.
The dean's mouth fell open, and the notebook in his hand dropped to the floor. The teachers exchanged looks, wondering whether something was wrong with their ears. The students stood stock-still as wooden chickens, unable to believe what they had heard.
A Titled Douluo was standing on the podium, telling more than three hundred students that cultivating Soul Power wasn't important.
"What matters is being handsome," Yi Yun said.
The hall grew even quieter. So quiet they could hear the wind rustling the leaves outside, so quiet they could hear the cafeteria auntie next door chopping vegetables, so quiet they could hear their own heartbeats.
The carrot in Tang San's hand fell to the floor. The corners of Zhu Zhuqing's mouth twitched violently. Ning Rongrong's sign wobbled, nearly hitting a student in the front row.
The dean picked up his notebook, his hands trembling. He spent three seconds considering whether he had misheard, another three confirming that he had not, and another three deciding whether to drag Yi Yun off the podium.
But he did not move. Yi Yun was a Titled Douluo, after all, and he could not beat him.
"I know you don't believe me." Yi Yun looked at the three hundred-odd petrified faces below, his expression as calm as if he were remarking on the fine weather. "But think about it. They're all Soul Masters, so why are some popular and others not? It isn't a difference in strength. It's a difference in looks."
Some students nodded thoughtfully.
"Think about it again. We're all Titled Douluos, so why am I so popular? Not because I'm the strongest, but because I'm the handsomest."
The girls in the audience screamed again, louder than before.
One girl stood up. "Mr. Yi Yun, you're right! You are the handsomest!"
Another girl stood too. "Mr. Yi Yun, could you take me as your disciple?"
A teacher held the third girl down before she could even get up.
The dean covered his face. He had invited Yi Yun to teach so the students could learn something about cultivation. Instead, Yi Yun was teaching them to judge by appearances.
"Handsome Master is right!" Ning Rongrong stood, holding up her sign. "Handsome Master is the handsomest!"
Xiao Wu's face flushed with anger. Why didn't I think of making a sign? Why didn't I think of shouting slogans? How did I lose to Ning Rongrong again?
Tang San silently picked up the carrot from the floor. He realized that ever since Yi Yun had come to Nuoding Academy, his life had become a comedy. And he was the only clown in it.
Yi Yun waited for the screaming to subside before continuing. "Of course, being handsome alone isn't enough. You also need poise."
"How do you develop poise?" a student asked.
"Simple." Yi Yun raised one finger. "Walk slowly, speak slowly, smile slowly. Whatever happens, don't panic. If the sky falls, someone will hold it up. If they can't, get someone else."
"What if there's nobody to hold it up?"
"Then run."
The students laughed. They realized that Yi Yun's lessons were different from other teachers'. Other teachers talked about cultivation methods, combat techniques, and Soul Ring combinations, as dry as chanting scriptures. Yi Yun talked about how to be handsome, how to have poise, and how to run fast. Although it sounded rather unserious, it seemed to make sense.
Another student raised a hand. "Mr. Yi Yun, if cultivating Soul Power isn't important, should we still cultivate?"
"Of course," Yi Yun said. "But don't cultivate for cultivation's sake. You cultivate to become stronger, and you become stronger to live better. If cultivation makes your life worse, you might as well not do it."
"What do you mean by living worse?"
"For example, cultivating twenty-four hours a day, without eating, sleeping, making friends, or looking after your family. Even if you become a Titled Douluo, what's the point? You're a person, not a cultivation machine."
The audience fell silent as the students seriously considered Yi Yun's words. Tang San fell silent too. He thought about how he had been lately-getting up before dawn every day to practice Pole Vault, Radio Calisthenics, Hidden Weapons, and vegetable gardening. Out of twenty-four hours, he spent sixteen cultivating, four eating and sleeping, and four staring into space. He lived like a cultivation machine. Suddenly, he felt that Yi Yun might be right-his life was too exhausting.
"Then what should we do?" Tang San could not help asking.
Everyone turned to Tang San. He sat in the corner, holding a carrot, looking somewhat bewildered.
"Balance work and rest," Yi Yun said. "When you cultivate, take it seriously. When you play, take that seriously too. Eat when you should, drink when you should, sleep when you should. Don't push yourself too hard."
Tang San fell silent.
Another student raised a hand. "Mr. Yi Yun, you said being handsome matters. What if you aren't handsome?"
Yi Yun looked at the student-a round face, a flat nose, small eyes, and very ordinary looks.
"If you aren't handsome, you need talent."
"What if you don't have talent either?"
"Then you need money."
"What if you don't have money either?"
Laughter began to ripple through the audience.
"Then you need patience."
"What if you don't have patience either?"
"Then you need a thick skin."
"What if your skin isn't thick either?"
Yi Yun looked at the student and fell silent for two seconds. "Then staying alive must be quite a struggle for you."
The whole hall burst out laughing. The student laughed too, very happily. He realized that although he had none of those things, at least he could laugh.
The two-hour lesson ended amid laughter and applause. Still hungry for more, the students surrounded Yi Yun, asking him all sorts of questions. Some wanted autographs, some wanted photos with him, some wanted to become his disciples, and some wanted to confess their love.
The crowd around Yi Yun was packed so tightly that not even water could get through. Xiao Wu and Ning Rongrong desperately tried to squeeze in and rescue him, but they could not get through at all.
In the end, the dean stepped in to free him. "All right, all right. Mr. Yi Yun is tired. Let him go back and rest."
The students reluctantly dispersed. Yi Yun straightened his clothes, which had been tugged into wrinkles, and let out a long breath. "More exhausting than fighting."
Xiao Wu ran over and took his hand. "Brother Yun, your lesson was wonderful."
"You don't think I was talking nonsense?"
"Even your nonsense makes sense."
Yi Yun smiled. He realized that Xiao Wu had been thoroughly brainwashed by him-whatever he said, she thought it was right.
Ning Rongrong ran over too. "Handsome Master, your lesson was wonderful! I took notes!" She held up a notebook densely filled with writing. Yi Yun glanced at it-"Cultivating Soul Power isn't important. What matters is being handsome." "Walk slowly, speak slowly, smile slowly." "If the sky falls, someone will hold it up. If they can't, run."
The corners of Yi Yun's mouth lifted slightly. "Your notes are pretty thorough."
"Of course! I'm going to be Handsome Master's best disciple!"
Xiao Wu pursed her lips beside them. "I'm his best disciple."
"Are you even his disciple? You're clearly Brother Yun's little bunny."
"You-!"
The two started arguing again, and Yi Yun shook his head helplessly.
Tang San walked out of the auditorium, still holding that carrot. He was thinking about Yi Yun's words-"Balance work and rest. When you cultivate, take it seriously. When you play, take that seriously too. Eat when you should, drink when you should, sleep when you should. Don't push yourself too hard."
He realized he had not "played" in a very long time. Ever since Yi Yun had arrived, he had cultivated every day and grown stronger every day, but he had never been happy. No, it wasn't that he had never been happy-when he was with Yi Yun, Xiao Wu, Zhu Zhuqing, and Ning Rongrong, he was happy. He simply refused to admit it.
Tang San took a bite of the carrot. Crisp and sweet, it tasted good. Suddenly, he wanted to grow carrots.
Yi Yun stood by the window, looking at the moon outside.
He had said many things in today's lesson that sounded unserious, but he had his reasons for every word. Cultivating Soul Power wasn't important; living happily was. Being handsome wasn't important; being confident was. Having poise wasn't important; being composed was.
It had taken him more than twenty years in his previous life to understand these truths. Now, he wanted to tell these students that cultivation was not all there was to life-living was.
Yi Yun closed the window. Outside, moonlight flowed like water. In the distance, he could faintly hear students discussing his lesson.
"Mr. Yi Yun said being handsome matters most. I think he's right."
"No, I think talent matters most."
"Money matters most."
"A thick skin matters most."
"You're all wrong. What Mr. Yi Yun meant was-being yourself matters most."
The students fell silent, then someone laughed. "You're right. Being yourself matters most."
Tang San could not sleep again that night. Not because he felt miserable, but because he was thinking about what Yi Yun had said. He tossed and turned, the words "Don't push yourself too hard" replaying in his mind.
He really had been pushing himself too hard. Ever since Yi Yun appeared, he had cultivated desperately every day, afraid that the moment he stopped, he would be left behind. But he realized that however hard he worked, the gap between him and Yi Yun never narrowed-not because he improved slowly, but because Yi Yun never cultivated at all. Every day, Yi Yun simply lay in the sun, teased Xiao Wu, pinched Ning Rongrong's cheeks, and tricked him. He never cultivated, never meditated, never practiced. Yet he was still that strong.
Tang San suddenly understood something-there were things that no amount of desperate effort could catch up to. Rather than desperately chasing someone he could never catch, he might as well slow down and look at the scenery along the way.
He sat up in bed, picked up the carrot by his bedside-Xiao Wu had left it with him-and took a bite. Crisp and sweet.
"I'll plant some carrots tomorrow," Tang San murmured.
He lay back down, closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep. In his dream, there was no cultivation, no Hidden Weapons, and no Pole Vault, only a field of bright red carrots. He crouched in the field, pulling up carrots one by one, grinning like an idiot.
Tang San rolled over, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. The carrot field in his dream glowed red, and the carrots were even sweeter than the half carrot Xiao Wu had given him. Suddenly, he felt that growing vegetables might not be so embarrassing after all. At least vegetables would not mock him, trick him, or tear up his love letter when he confessed.
Vegetables would only grow quietly, wait quietly for him to water them, and quietly repay him with a bountiful harvest.
Outside the window, moonlight flowed like water, and Tang San slept more soundly than ever.
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