In Order Not to Become a Vegetative State, I Can Only Keep Practicing

Li Zhiyuan didn't pay attention at first. Until one day, he put his hand into the water by the back mountain stream - it was bitingly cold, but he didn't shrink back. He knew "cold" clearly, and he also knew that normal people would frown and huff when exposed to cold water, but he didn't do anything. He squatted there, staring at his fingers, as if to confirm whether he could still feel the word "pain" itself. Later he discovered that Chen Du was no longer noisy when he sang. Six months ago, when he listened to that out-of-tune ditty, he still felt "annoyed" in his heart. Now he listened and felt nothing. The elders in the sect said that it was a good thing that the mind was as calm as water, and it meant that one was closer to the Tao. Li Zhiyuan looked at Senior Brother He Yun standing motionless under the old plum tree and said, "I can't remember what this flower smells like" - he wanted to ask, is it a good thing that he can't remember clearly? He Yun stayed in Jianxin Pavilion for seven years and began to forget about it after forming the elixir. He couldn't remember the fragrance of plum blossoms or those past events. He only remembered that he had a broken sword that he hadn't put down yet. Li Zhiyuan doesn't know if he will still remember the sentence in his father's letter seven years later: "When you smile, the ends of your eyes are curved." He didn't know, but he was still walking, like a door that was slowly closing, and the gap left to him became narrower and narrower. One day, he would walk into a north room, sit in front of an empty table, hear the wind blowing through the deserted corridor, and feel that the pill was still spinning, but he could no longer remember why he was sitting here. At that point, he must decide: continue practicing and forget everything, or find another way and stop before he disappears completely.