Just a Teacher, Killing Time

Fuxiang sat quietly on the wooden pile, and the surrounding tree shadows stretched themselves lazily. Fuxiang, like the tree shadows, lazily half-squinted his eyes. He was already old. He was waiting for his guests, waiting for his student who reincarnated in time, a student he regarded as his own. There was the sound of footsteps, and the guests were coming. "I don't know what I should call you now." Fuxiang didn't turn his head, still half-squinting his eyes and breathing intermittently. He didn't have much time. "Sir, you can call me whatever you want." "From now on, you will be called Mr. Fuxiang. Mr. Is not the English Sir, Mr., Etc., But means teacher. From now on, you will be a teacher in my place." Fuxiang would be a little inexplicable excited every time he talked about teachers. This was a habit he had devoted to education for half his life. "Are you interested in hearing the stories about the days when you were not around?" "Sir, please speak." "This is a story of time, a long but short story that is still my own when I look back, a story of the land of fortune." This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.