The conflict between the black cat, the white cat and the fox is just a small adjustment in life after all.
For several weeks, no abnormal events occurred outside the school, but Zheng Qing would not naively think that the crows had really turned aside and the haze shrouded in the silent forest had really passed.
The prophecy of the horse priest on the night of Qingming Festival is still vivid in my mind, and the words "When there is a fight, it is unknown" made him unable to help but feel melancholy every time he rests.
Of course, in Xiao Xiao's opinion, Zheng Qing's "melancholy" was more of a fear of graduation and an uneasy future. The verse of the horse priest was just an excuse he subconsciously looked for.
"I read a saying in the book that there are only two types of people in this world."
The fortune teller of Yusin Hunting Team analyzed the absent-mindedness of his deskmate during Thursday's magic potion class: "For example, a bunch of grapes in hand, one person chooses the best to eat first, and the other person leaves the best to eat at the end. Logically speaking, the first type of person should be optimistic, because every time he eats, the best to eat, the second type of person should be pessimistic, because every time he eats, the worst to eat, but in fact, it is counterproductive, because the second type of person still has hope, and the first type of person only has memories."
"It seems reasonable."
Zheng Qing was used to learning from it and immediately began to think about it when he heard this: "If a plate of grapes is good and bad, the adults at home will definitely choose the bad ones first and leave the good ones to the children... Children are the adults' hopes. From this perspective, the second type of people does have hope."
"This is not the point." Xiao Xiao had adapted to Zheng Qing's habitual topic and pulled the topic back with familiarity: "What I want to emphasize is that being too immersed in memories is like being lost in the world in the mirror, and it is easy to lose yourself..."
"Just like Zhu Si?"
"Don't interrupt!"
The doctor couldn't bear it anymore, so he glared at him fiercely, and stopped before he started thinking again: "So, memories are like perfume, not too thick, not too light... A little fragrance is the best. Do you still remember Thomas? He just sprayed too much perfume in his memory, so he lost himself."
Suddenly, Zheng Qing was stunned when he heard the familiar but unfamiliar name.
But immediately, he reacted.
"Do you know the real reason for Thomas' defection?" He couldn't remember talking to his companions about some of the details of his abducted.
“How fresh.”
Dr. Xiao rolled his eyes and snorted softly: "After we were attacked by Nikita on the plane for freshman year, I paid a little attention to the banshee... Her relationship with Thomas is not a secret, and I don't even need to use the power of the family. The class logs preserved in the school library can find many clues."
Zheng Qing sighed admiringly.
"It's not that I don't know this," he poked one of the heads of the two-headed paper cranes he had just folded with a quill, and his tone was a little melancholy: "——First it was the ogre tribe, then the horse tribe, then the school students and teaching assistants. One head fell out and another head appeared. Is this still a crow? No, this is the nine-headed bird! After cutting off one head, another head would appear on his neck. I didn't immerse myself in my memories, but I was just worried that I would be tarred all over them, and then covered with black crow feathers, making me the same as them."
“A very interesting metaphor.”
Xiao Xiao raised his eyebrows and flipped over the black shell notebook at hand: "It takes time to solve this problem, and you don't have much time in the remaining weeks of this semester... I just submitted a manuscript for "Alchemy" and didn't have a good rest for a long time. You not only have to prepare your graduation thesis, but also prepare for the school's project, and where can you still have time to care about those crows? Oh, by the way, you should register for the Transformation Wizard certification next week, don't forget."
Zheng Qing threw his head into the textbook with a snap, trying to throw himself to death.
But this height is obviously not enough to kill a wizard.
On the podium, the Potions Professor's voice was still slowly drilling into his ears-
"...The preparation of the potion is rigorous and casual. For example, we can use yellow mud or black mud, which is its casualness. But on the other hand, when the glass rod is stirred in the crucible, three and a half circles counterclockwise are three and a half circles counterclockwise, and there is no slight deviation. This is its rigor... From another dimension, the size and shape of the glass rod in the crucible cannot be unified and regular, and it cannot be completely accurate. This is the manifestation of "suspiciousness"... Rigorousness determines the basic effect of the potion, and casualness depends on the color of the decoction or the nuances of different herbs in terms of year, moisture, etc...."
"I hate casualness."
The witch, whose head was slammed between the pages of the book, muttered in a low voice—or rather, he hated uncertainty—those crows were like impurities mixed in a cauldron, and no one knew what the last potion would turn.
"But magic is originally casual."
Dr. Xiao Da made a very strange example: "For example, a goat has sex with a motorcycle, and a weird goat that drinks gasoline, has a gas throttle on its horns, and black smoke on its butt - this strange but not unreasonable fact built on the logic of mysticism is the greatest common divisor in the magic world. In this world, magic and magic are the real logic, so the combination of motorcycles and goats is casual and rigorous."
Zheng Qing's focus has deviated as always.
"Who was born?"
"What?"
"I mean, was that monster with smoke on the butt born from a goat or a motorcycle? How to produce a motorcycle? Also, are goats drinking gasoline or goats?"
Xiao Xiao didn't seem to think that this question was unreasonable, but instead asked Zheng Qing a question very seriously: "Do you know Hined Gleason?"
"have no idea."
"He was a therapist who once vividly described a concept similar to the problem you just now - I mean the therapist field - he said that if a patient tries to describe a headache to a doctor, the language will immediately dry up because there is no word to use immediately for him. Then he is forced to make his own words, holding pain in one hand and a pure sound in the other, pinching them together, and finally a brand new word pops up. The same is true of the combination of motorcycles and goats."
Bang!
The chalk head flew from the podium and hit the heads of two gossiping witches accurately.
Alas!
Zheng Qing hissed a little cold breath and covered her head. He immediately felt that Xiao Xiao's words just now made sense - after he was hit by the chalk head, wouldn't his language dry up?