In a humble hut constructed entirely of weathered wood, perched atop a towering mountain, a young man with jet-black hair lay on a modest bed, deeply engrossed in the pages of a book. His brow furrowed with concentration, completely unaware of the hand that reached down from behind. With a swift motion, it smacked the back of his head, sending his face crashing into the soft bed and causing the book to slip from his grasp, landing on the floor. As it fell open, it revealed an image—a vision—that countless men would pay a king's ransom to witness in the waking world.
"You foolish brat," an elderly voice grumbled. "How many times must I tell you to stop reading that filthy book?"
"Damn you, old man!" the youth muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance "Just because you've never had any luck with women in your entire life, don't drag me into your miserable, celibate existence."
"You insolent disciple!" the old man's voice cracked with fury. "Is that how you dare to speak to your master?"
With a slow, deliberate motion, the youth pushed himself off the bed. Standing tall before the old man, he spoke with a tone that carried no hint of regret.
"My apologies, master," the youth said, his voice tinged with mock sincerity. "I failed to sympathize with your emotions."
"You…" The old man's words faltered as he took a deep breath, struggling to reign in his emotions. "Huff… ha." Finally, with a visible effort, he regained his composure. "Come with me."
A triumphant smile tugged at the corner of the youth's mouth as he slowly followed, carefully placing the fallen 'holy book' on the table before departing.
Outside, the sun's first rays began to rise, casting a soft glow across the sky. The old man halted in front of a small well, where a simple wooden chair awaited. With a serene gaze toward the horizon, he sat down, and the youth, a mere step behind, paused, standing just shy of a meter away.
Thirty seconds passed, and the youth stood silently, his patience unwavering.
Two minutes later, with a barely noticeable twitch in his eye, the youth glanced at the old man, who had closed his eyes and was clutching a white pillow that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
"Damn senile old man," the youth muttered, his voice growing louder. "We're at the top of a mountain, and you want me to send you to heaven right now?"
The old man's eyes slowly fluttered open, his gaze sweeping across the horizon. With a look that seemed to suggest he was about to share the deepest of wisdoms, he finally spoke.
"Where were we earlier?"
The youth sighed deeply, closing his eyes to steady himself. "You… huffff… haaaaa," he exhaled, forcing his temper to settle. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, master." He decided it was better to back down than escalate things further.
"Hmph. You're still hundreds of years too young to challenge me, you brat," the old man replied with a dismissive scoff.
"Yes, yes, you're the most amazing master," the youth grumbled in response, a trace of sarcasm lacing his words.
"Enough with the flattery," the old man snapped. "I won't teach you if you keep that up."
The youth's mouth twitched in frustration, but he wisely kept quiet.
"All right, enough nonsense," the old man said, his gaze sharpening as he locked eyes with the youth. The intensity of his look made the boy realize the seriousness of the moment.
"Chen Fan, it's been ten years since I've passed on all of my knowledge to you," the old man continued, his voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. He watched with a mixture of pride and melancholy as the nine-year-old brat he had taken in all those years ago had grown into the young man before him. "But I don't know where you learned to speak like that," he added with a mockingly amused tone, causing the youth to fall silent for a moment, caught off guard by the old man's unrelenting willfulness.
"What's with all this nostalgic talk, master? Do you feel your end is near?" the young man countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, hoping to provoke the old man once more.
Unfazed by the youth's jab, the old man continued, his tone steady and probing. "What do you want to do in the future?"
Chen Fan, preparing to fire back with another witty retort, was momentarily taken aback by the simplicity of the question. The weight of the inquiry lingered in the air, and after a brief moment of reflection, he finally answered with a straightforwardness that surprised even himself.
"Become rich and marry a lot of beauties."
The old man's patience thinned, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. He was ready to scold the youth for turning a serious conversation into yet another joke. But as he studied the youth's expression—his gaze unwavering, eyes steady—the old man hesitated. The youth wasn't joking. The words were laced with sincerity, and yet, just as quickly, a small smirk tugged at the corner of Chen Fan's mouth.
Before the old man could raise his voice in anger, the youth spoke once more, his tone calm and resolute.
"I just want to live however I want. Do the things I enjoy, be around people I like, defeat those I despise, and stop what I hate." Chen Fan's gaze drifted toward the distant horizon, his words taking on a deeper weight. "I don't have lofty ideals of becoming a hero or a saint, or someone who wants to dominate or change the world."
A brief silence settled between them, the weight of Chen Fan's words lingering in the air. The old man observed the youth, who stood still, his gaze focused on the distant horizon, as though lost in contemplation about the future the old man's question had triggered. After a moment, the old man broke the stillness, rising from his chair to stand before Chen Fan.
"I know you're curious about the outside world," the old man began, his voice steady. "For some time now, you've been itching to leave the mountain, haven't you?" He studied the youth, who slowly turned his eyes toward him, his expression unreadable. "You're afraid you'll make me uncomfortable if you bring it up, aren't you?"
A flicker of longing danced in the youth's eyes at the old man's words, a brief crack in his usually guarded demeanor. But just as quickly, he masked his feelings with a jest, hoping to deflect the weight of the conversation.
"If I wanted to leave," Chen Fan teased, a playful smirk creeping across his face, "I'd be out of here before you even knew it, old man. Why would I care about your feelings? Maybe it's you who would feel lonely if I left." He let out a short, mock laugh, as if dismissing any hint of emotion tied to the thought of leaving.
"You're right," the old man's direct answer caught Chen Fan off guard, leaving him speechless for a moment. "This mountain will be peaceful without you."
Chen Fan, pushing aside the old man's sarcastic remark, turned to him with a rare seriousness. "Why won't you leave the mountain, master?"
A heavy silence settled between them, the old man standing with his back to the youth, gazing down at the vast expanse of the mountain as if contemplating the weight of his own answer.
"An oath."
The simplicity of the old man's response left Chen Fan speechless, though he could sense there was more to the story, something the old man had chosen not to reveal. After another moment of silence, Chen Fan broke the tension with a casual remark, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Heh, why do you act all mysterious, master? Even if you try, you won't look like some otherworldly expert."
"You brat," the old man scoffed, dismissing the remark with a wave of his hand. "You should leave the mountain today."
Chen Fan blinked, stunned by the suddenness of the suggestion. After a moment of contemplation, he asked, "Is there anything you need me to do outside the mountain?"
The old man seemed caught off guard by the question. "Didn't you want to go to the city?"
"Of course I want to," Chen Fan replied with his usual sarcasm. "Who would want to spend his whole youth with an old man?"
The old man, ignoring the comment, tossed a piece of paper at Chen Fan.
"This is the engagement letter between you and the little girl from the Feng family."
"What? Engagement?" For a brief moment, Chen Fan thought he had misheard, his mind struggling to grasp the meaning of the words.
Seemingly oblivious to his confusion, the old man continued, "You should pack your things and leave the mountain this afternoon."
With that, the old man turned and walked toward his residence, leaving Chen Fan in stunned silence, processing the weight of the news.
After a long pause, Chen Fan finally organized his thoughts and looked back at his master's hut, his expression a complicated mix of emotions.
----
Several hours passed, and at the edge of the mountain, Chen Fan stood facing his master. The old man's expression was calm, though his sharp eyes didn't miss the glaring absence of any belongings.
"Why don't you have anything with you?" he asked, frowning at the sight of his disciple standing empty-handed. "No bag, no supplies… nothing?"
Chen Fan smirked, his tone casual. "Old man, are you senile? I've been living on this mountain my whole life. Do you think I have anything worth bringing to the city?"
"You damn brat," the old man grumbled, his hands itching to smack some sense into him. "Go! Hurry up and leave this mountain".
Chen stood motionless for a moment, his gaze fixed on the old man who had raised him for the past ten years. There were countless questions he wanted to ask, countless things he wanted to say, but he swallowed them for now. He would save them for the future. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice steady yet sincere. "Thank you, Master."
The old man blinked, momentarily taken aback by the genuine look on Chen Fan's face. After a brief pause, he replied with a familiar sarcasm, "It's good to know you at least have a conscience, you brat."
Chen Fan chuckled softly before turning away, his steps carrying him farther and farther from the old man. But as the distance grew, he couldn't resist glancing back. His master still stood there, silently watching him go.
When Chen Fan glanced back, the old man assumed it was out of sentiment, perhaps sadness at parting. He opened his mouth, prepared to make a joking remark to disgust his disciple. But then his eyes caught a glimpse of something—something that made his heart tighten.
A small black card with intricate patterns and a series of numbers peeked from Chen Fan's pocket.
"Thanks for the parting gift, old man," Chen Fan called out with a mischievous grin.
The old man's eyes widened. "YOU TRAITOROUS DISCIPLE! STOP RIGHT THERE!"
Chen Fan burst into laughter, running downhill at full speed. "Hahaha! Goodbye, old man! Don't worry, I'll make sure to use it for good things!"
"AAAAAHHHHH! YOU DAMN BRAT!" the old man roared, his voice echoing across the mountain.
Chen Fan's laughter rang out as he disappeared from sight, his figure vanishing into the distance. The old man stood there for a while, his chest heaving with frustration, before he let out a depreciating chuckle.
"Damn brat," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back toward his hut. His expression softened as he made his way home, the memory of his unruly disciple bringing a faint smile to his weathered face.