I am Lu Chen. The handyman at the outer sect of the Qingyun Sect has been washing socks for nine years and kneeling on the bluestone for nine years.
The day he fell into the cold pool, the ancestral domino woke up. It says: practice my method, and you will no longer live on your knees. The price is - every time you break through a level, you have to exchange it for something you are most reluctant to part with.
On the first floor, I burned my mother's belongings and lost my sense of smell. On the second level, I smashed the spiritual energy shield of the inner disciple, and I couldn't taste anything from now on. On the third level, I forgot the name of a girl when I was seven years old in the ring.
I thought that was the full price.
Until I discovered that Shen Qingdai, the inner sect's most arrogant woman—the woman who was as cold as ice and never looked directly at me—spent three hundred and sixty nights squatting under the old locust tree to change my dressing, sew bandages, sew the stitches crookedly, rub the blood on the cuffs, and then leave quietly.
Every time I was in pain, she carried half of it for me in the dark. I had three broken ribs and she had two. During the more than three hundred days when I lost my dream, she took all my dreams into her heart.
But I forgot her name. Just after defeating Chen Fengxian's punch, he was gouged out by the backlash.
The last stitch she left in my bandage was a grain of wheat. No signature.
On the day I entered the inner sect, there was a man sitting on an empty chair at the end of Qingshiping. Wearing old gray clothes, his face is thin, and a section of his left ring finger is missing. She looked at me through the crowd and said:
"Enter the inner door. Come to the Sutra Pavilion. I'll wait for you."
She is my mother. Thirty years ago, she broke a phalanx with her own hands and refined it into the third layer of locks in my body.
The wheat seed in my arms is still slowly sprouting.
