Futile Devices Scans

On Ning Xuan’s side, however, his face had completely fallen.

Heavens knew he had only blurted out that suggestion on a whim. Heavens knew he had merely intended to grab a brush and ink, scribble through the mess, and be done with it. Yet who could have expected such misfortune to descend from the skies—out of nowhere, he had saddled himself with such a troublesome task!

One had to know—this room of books numbered in the thousands, if not tens of thousands! If it were some idle fellow with nothing better to do, sitting here writing furiously for an entire day, perhaps it could be finished. But he had endless chores waiting for him every day!

Wasn’t this just adding chaos to an already busy life?!

Without even bothering to eat, he clutched an inkstone, paper, and brushes, sprinting all the way back to the library. Staring at the twisting, winding characters filling the pages, Ning Xuan could not help but grumble inwardly—ancient people were truly troublesome.

Why did perfectly good simplified characters have to be turned into such abstract monstrosities? Not only were the strokes countless, they were hard to remember, and even harder to write!

Yet what astonished him was this—despite seeing these “ghostly scribbles” for the very first time, though he could vaguely discern the wisdom modern people had derived from them, their essence was still vastly different. And yet, he could more or less understand them, as if they were not unfamiliar at all.

Originally, he had been annoyed by their tangled strokes and had planned to practice first. But once he picked up the brush, for reasons unknown, his movements flowed naturally—his strokes smooth and practiced, as though he had done this countless times before.

Could it be I’m gifted by nature? As expected—I’m a genius!

Ning Xuan instantly fell into a state of self-admiration, utterly unable to extricate himself.

By the time Qing Zhu and Mo Qi had sneaked around, finally bringing him some leftover food to appease his starving stomach, what they saw was their “temple master” sitting there in a dazed, lovestruck stupor—drool practically dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Knowing better than to disturb him, they quietly set the food down and went about their own business.

From noon onward, Ning Xuan had not moved a single step from the small desk in the library. Bent over, head lowered, his brush flew like a sword in motion. Both lunch and dinner were delivered by those two loyal brothers, bringing scraps to sustain his “five viscera.”

He didn’t even have time to visit the latrine. In his own words:

“If I waste time wandering around looking for the toilet and get lost, I might as well just hold it in and finish writing this damn thing first…”

By the time lamps were lit in the evening, everyone had no choice but to disperse.

Watching Mo Qi and Qing Zhu’s retreating figures, Ning Xuan burst into tearful lament, crying out one last desperate plea:

“Brothers! Can’t you at least help copy a bit for me?!”

The two turned back with carefree shrugs, faces innocent:

“We can’t read…”

“Damn it!” Ning Xuan nearly ground his teeth to dust.

As if I can read either! These damn characters look like ghostly scribbles—I’m just copying them blindly! Not a shred of artistic sense in any of you!

He grumbled endlessly, but it did him no good.

If it were just the usual monthly cataloging, it wouldn’t have been so troublesome—just write down the title and mark it. But this time, he had been foolish enough to “sun-dry” the books properly, smudging page after page with meticulous care.

The books themselves weren’t many, but the text inside—line after line of tiny characters—was no different from copying entire volumes.

And he was a complete novice…

“Oh, bed… though you’re a bit hard. Blanket… though you smell a bit… at this moment, how I long for your hardness and your softness…”

In the empty room, Ning Xuan sighed toward the window, even reaching up to wipe at eyes that didn’t contain a single tear.

Knock, knock, knock.

Before he could finish lamenting, several knocks sounded at the door.

In the dead of night, with only the wind, cicadas, and the occasional crackle of the lamp for company, the sudden sound made Ning Xuan shudder.

They say there are plenty of ghosts and spirits in ancient times… I’m not that unlucky, am I?

Amitabha… forgive me… though I’m an atheist, I’ll still pay my respects. Even if I’m late, I’ll make it up to you later! Great Merciful Guanyin, Buddha above, please subdue whatever’s outside that door…

⸻

While Ning Xuan prayed fervently inside, the person outside was growing impatient.

“There’s someone in there.”

Not a question—but a certainty.

The low, magnetic voice carried an undeniable authority.

Ning Xuan froze.

This voice… sounds familiar…

He wracked his brain—but couldn’t place it.

Then it suddenly hit him—

If the person outside was human, he was just as doomed!

According to the estate’s rules, once lamps were lit, all servants must return to their rooms. Only attendants serving masters and young lords were exempt.

Yet here he was, secretly working through the night—and only because Mo Qi had covered for him.

If he were discovered, not only would he be punished, Mo Qi would be dragged down with him!

What should he do?!

“I know you’re inside. Open the door. If someone sees, it won’t be good,” the man outside said calmly.

And at those words, Ning Xuan suddenly brightened.

Afraid of being seen? If he were a steward on inspection, why would he care? If he were a master, even less so.

So—this must be another servant sneaking out at night!

Recalling his own miserable experience of sneaking out for food and getting lost, Ning Xuan felt a surge of sympathy—mixed with a rather wicked sense of satisfaction.

Finally, someone else with no sense of direction like me!

He tiptoed to the door, removed the latch, and opened it just a crack to let the man slip inside. As he shut it, he even glanced around furtively like a thief.

“Relax. No one’s nearby. I checked before knocking,” the man said leisurely, already seated at the table.

Only then did Ning Xuan turn around—

—and froze.

Wasn’t this the guard from earlier that morning? The one who had laughed at him for looking like a smudged cat and told him to wash his face?!

Though not a villain, the man clearly wasn’t easy to deal with. And Ning Xuan—

Well.

He was the kind who never let grudges go.

Seeing that man sitting there so calmly, with that faintly amused expression, Ning Xuan felt his temper flare instantly.

What the hell? This is the library—my territory!

I took you in out of kindness, and you’re still mocking me?!

In three quick strides, he rushed forward and kicked the man squarely in the shin.

He knew full well how painful that spot was.

Even without experiencing it himself, judging by the man’s contorted expression, it had to hurt badly.

“Hey! You’re new, right? Show some awareness—this is my seat!”

With that, he shoved the man aside and plopped down in the chair himself.

Truth be told, there were other seats. And that hadn’t even been his original spot.

But Ning Xuan simply couldn’t stand that face—

That sharp, handsome countenance, those upturned eyes filled with laughter, those thin lips curved in amusement—

Every inch of him seemed to be smiling.

And the target of that smile…

Was him.

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