"Life and magic have one thing in common, that is magic."
"Every life is the incarnation of magic, and every magic is also the result of magic."
Mr. Wu was sitting by the iron stove, shaking an old cattail leaf fan in his hand. While fanning the fire, he muttered the old man's gossip to the small red clay teapot. From time to time, he would pick up the teacup and take a sip of tea, which seemed very comfortable:
"...And we wizards are witnesses of the magic."
At this point, he seemed to notice something, and suddenly turned to look at a corner of the bookstore. The bookshelves there were filled with books, but Mr. Wu's eyes did not fall on those books, but seemed to look through them.
Books, through the thick walls, through the long void, look at a certain corner of the world.
After a long while, he added in an admiring tone: "...We are also witnesses of history."
After that, he shook the broken cattail leaf fan in his hand again, and the milky-white flames that had subsided for a while began to boil again, stretching out slender tongues of flame and licking the maroon wall of the pot.
"Click."
A small voice suddenly sounded in the corner of the bookstore, but it stopped suddenly. If you didn't pay attention, you might think that the strange noise was an illusion.
But Mr. Wu has always been very clear about everything.
"I thought you weren't coming back today, so I gave the dried fish to Boss Huang from Hui Zi Ji. His granddaughter got a new Persian cat with a big mouth." The gentleman shook his head without looking back.
Holding a broken cattail leaf fan, he said kindly: "If you want to eat it, just go and fish it yourself in the sea of stars."
No one answered, but there was a faint "squeak" sound from deep inside the bookstore, like the sound of a cabinet door being opened.
After a while, the angry voice of the yellow lily came over:
"This matter has nothing to do with me. Why do you want to deduct my dried fish? Doesn't your conscience hurt?! Those dried fish are mine! I am here, how can you do it casually?
How about taking it as a gift?"
"It's a gift for cats," the gentleman corrected him: "Also, those small dried fishes were brought back to you when I went hunting... I have been running the store for so long, and my biggest experience is that the accounts must be calculated clearly."
The yellow cat angrily jumped out of the shadow in the corner of the bookstore, jumped onto the desk next to the gentleman, stared, arched his back, whined in his throat, rubbed his cat's paws on the table, and looked like he wanted to pounce on him but couldn't.
He didn't dare to pounce.
The gentleman squinted and glanced at it:
"Add another layer of barrier to that little sapling. The store will be very angry. Don't let her get dehydrated."
Alas, the yellow raccoon suddenly stopped attacking and looked sideways at the transparent ball floating next to its shoulder. I don't know if it was an illusion, but it also felt that the sapling in the ball was a little wilter than before.
"Illusion, this must be an illusion." Huanghuali muttered guiltily, opened his mouth, and puffed out a bubble. The bubble swelled in response to the wind, and in an instant it grew from the size of a soybean to the size of a basketball, reaching around his shoulders.
The round ball covered it.
Then the 'bubble' shrank and tightened, shrinking to the size of a volleyball, adding a layer of 'film' to the transparent ball.
The figure of the sapling in the ball became increasingly blurry.
Mr. Wu changed the cattail leaf fan from his right hand to his left hand and asked, "Didn't you look for the bad luck of those two mice? Why did you come back so soon?"
When the two mice were mentioned, the yellow tabby's temper exploded again.
"I told you at the beginning that you couldn't keep those mice... It's good for you, one or two, but you keep more and more! What now? I made trouble for you and ran away, and you can't find them!"
The tabby cat cursed, picked up the tea cup that Mr. Wu had put aside with its paw, licked it and drank two sips of the tea. While complaining about Mr. Wu's past wrong decisions, he also denounced the cunning and sneakiness of the two mice, and lamented the difficulty of cat life:
"I can only say that they are indeed mice, and they can hide more slippery than real mice... I haven't caught mice for many years, so I am inevitably a bit unskilled, but it doesn't matter, give me some time, and I will hide the two mice's nests.
I’ll read them all for you!”
Mr. Wu curled his lips, glanced at the tea cup used by the civet, turned his hand over, and found a new cup for himself.
The small red clay teapot on the iron stove puffed out two streams of hot steam, attracting the attention of the bookstore owner and the cat again.
"How long have you been cooking it?" The yellowtail stretched its neck and asked curiously.
"A few hours, almost." The gentleman mumbled, without giving a precise number. He lifted the lid of the teapot, leaned his neck and looked inside, and then nodded: "It's almost enough."
Huang Huali sighed in an old-fashioned way: "I said at the beginning that you can teach him by yourself, so why do you have to send him to school? Nowadays, Buji Island is full of mist, dragons and snakes are mixed together, even a great fortune teller
I can’t tell what will happen in the future…”
"I am better than the great fortune teller." Mr. Wu reminded in a low voice.
The yellow raccoon dog seemed to have a sting stuck in the fish, and his voice suddenly stopped. The cat's face was suffocated, and after a long while, he emphasized: "... Even if you are better than the great fortune teller, you are not much better... I don't see you.
This kid was punished every three days, and now in less than a year, he has been reduced to pieces and recooked?"
"That's true." Mr. Wu nodded, raised his head, and seemed to think of something. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the lid again, then stretched out his left index finger, and lightly scratched the belly of his index finger with his thumb nail, and a drop of bright red blood came out.
It seeped out and slowly dripped into the small red clay teapot.
The milky white blood at the bottom of the pot seemed to be stimulated by something, and the flames suddenly became a little tighter. There were also faint thunderous sounds coming from the teapot, rumbling, and the lid of the teapot buzzed.
Then the husband retracted his fingers, folded his hands, and sat back comfortably: "...Next time, he probably won't blow up so easily."
The golden raccoon's head shrank back, and its throat was squeaking, as if it was holding back a mouthful of thick phlegm.
After a long while, it screamed: "What's happened, and you gave him a drop of blood? I have worked hard for so many years, but I only saved a few small dried fish, and you still keep cheating on me... your conscience
Doesn’t it hurt?!”
This is the second time it has mentioned the topic of ‘conscience’.
The gentleman feels that he needs to answer this question head-on.
"I think, no matter it's you or me," he pointed at himself and emphasized: "In this state, talking about the 'heart' is really a very luxurious topic. Moreover, even if the state is intact,
At this time, everything needs to be weighed, and you can’t just ask your conscience.”