Chapter Thirty-Six: Filling the Bookshelf

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Considering what the future might hold, Chen Yu decided to build a bookshelf. He lacked the ability to conjure one out of thin air, but he could certainly modify the wooden frame in his hands based on the ones he remembered seeing.

There were still some wooden planks left in the temple, leftovers from when the old Taoist priest had renovated the offering hall in earlier years. Square and sturdy, they were useless for building a fence, but perfect for a bookshelf.

Though some had already rotted beyond use, after picking and choosing he still managed to drag out a dozen or so usable pieces.

He took out his saw, cut them flat and smooth, and fashioned them into wooden boards of suitable sizes.

Chen Yu knew nothing of mortise-and-tenon joinery. The old man at Tingyun Ancient Village had once said his grandfather knew a bit of it, but since no one in the family ever learned the craft, it had been lost.

"Fortunately, I only need to make minor adjustments and replace a few corner pieces—the original wooden frame's structure is sturdy enough on its own."

In the end, he still resorted to cloth strips, tying them around one end of the frame to keep it from falling apart.

After about half an hour, a strangely shaped bookshelf was assembled.

Chen Yu wasn't satisfied with it either, but what could he do? This was all he knew how to do. It was also the very reason why, though he could see many places in the temple needed renovation, he never took up the tools himself.

At most, he could replace some roof tiles.

Why, he hadn't even built the chicken coop back then, precisely because of this concern.

He reached out a finger and pushed—it wobbled loosely, but at least it didn't collapse at the touch. Good enough to use, he figured.

He tidied up the storage room, moved the bookshelf back inside, and propped up its base with two hemp bundles stuffed with straw so the bottom wouldn't get damp too soon.

Leaning against the side, he began placing books on it one by one.

As he worked, a thought struck Chen Yu. He went outside and returned shortly with four wooden tags clutched in his hand.

Small characters were carved on the tags, crooked and uneven:

[Miscellaneous Notes] [Pharmacology] [Cultivation Methods] [Scriptures and Discourses]

These he had secretly learned from the Fangtai Pavilion. Truth be told, he could simply have pasted a sheet of paper on the front listing all twenty-something books he owned as a catalog index.

But paper could record too little. He felt that in the future there would certainly be more than one bookshelf, and his collection would only grow. Better to sort them directly by category.

Though it did look rather odd to categorize a sparse few dozen books into such divisions.

Chen Yu didn't mind. In fact, he felt a sense of satisfaction. One day, he would fill this entire shelf, then a second shelf, a third, a fourth...

And when that time came, the storage room could once again be called by its former title—the Scripture Library.

Faintly, he felt like a squirrel with a collecting hobby, wishing he could gather every book in the world to his own abode, to read at his leisure.

But then he quickly thought: acquiring books depended on luck, on money, and on time. With his shallow pockets at the moment, he probably wouldn't be getting many of the books he wanted anytime soon.

Yet looking at the bookshelf, there were so many empty spaces that it was rather displeasing to the eye.

What if... I write a few myself?

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The thought burst forth, and even Chen Yu was taken aback.

What were these books before him? Even if they weren't masterpieces by renowned authors, they were all widely circulated works.

What right did he have to add his own to the mix?

A fraud passing off his work among the genuine? A laughingstock for the learned?

After a moment, he raised his brow and smiled.

When it came to understanding this world, he certainly couldn't rank among the knowledgeable. But if he truly wanted to write, he wasn't entirely without material.

How to nurture spirit plants, a complete compendium on using spiritual essence to catalyze plant effects, the process of researching spiritual essence, and which ratio of well water mixed into spiritual liquid produced the best taste...

Things of that sort.

Setting aside the quality of the content, at least it would be uniquely his own—because no one else had seen or heard of such things, yet they genuinely and truly existed.

There were also his self-created methods like the Spirit-Calling Body-Strengthening Art, the Spirit-Summoning Art, and the Viscera Regeneration Art that he could write up.

With that thought, he suddenly felt a surge of motivation.

By researching spiritual liquids and pondering spiritual essence, he would sooner or later fill this bookshelf to the brim!

...

Leaving the storage room—though Chen Yu harbored grand ambitions, it didn't change the fact that the shelf currently held only a paltry twenty-odd books, so the title of Scripture Library would have to wait. Calling it that now would just sound too awkward.

Days passed leisurely, and before he knew it, it was late May.

One day, he was circling through the medicine field, checking on the growth of the spring millet.

After surveying the lot, he found the crops growing well and stopped worrying. He turned and headed to the vegetable garden.

After confirming that the spiritual liquid could hasten the ripening of plants, he took a bag of it, poured it into a wooden bucket, stirred and diluted it, then splashed it across the garden.

A few days passed, and the Lanting fruit and green beans had sprouted plenty of new produce. The jade insect coat had also regrown from its severed point, and as for the leafy greens, they grew in thick patches.

Here, Chen Yu also made an unexpected gain. The wild vegetables he had planted along the garden's edges earlier—he had thought them all withered and dead—but after a thorough drenching of diluted spiritual liquid, new sprouts pushed up from the soil again.

Now he wouldn't lack for side dishes to go with his meals.

The only problem was his dwindling supply of oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. He was considering whether to head down the mountain to buy some, and carry back a load of noodles while he was at it—eating nothing but millet day after day was getting rather tiresome.

After his inspection, Chen Yu brought out the wooden board containing the spring millet seeds nurtured by spiritual essence.

A faint layer of pale green covered the surface. Leaning in close, he could see tiny seedlings.

He looked again and again—they were truly delightful.

The effect of the two grains of spiritual essence was remarkable. Seeds that had been dormant before had all sprouted and pushed out tender shoots after being placed in it.

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But Chen Yu still had some worries. Spiritual essence was too nourishing for most living things, and he was afraid these spring millet seedlings might be overwhelmed by the nutrients and die.

This wasn't impossible—there had been precedents during the earlier cultivation in the medicine field.

Still, the seedlings' slow and steady growth put his mind somewhat at ease. At least this way, they were growing little by little, without anything so sudden that it would kill them outright.

...

May twenty-first, bright and sunny.

A rare occasion—today Chen Yu carried his fishing rod, intending to do some angling in the mountains.

He had dug up his earthworms, filled his bait pouch, and two bamboo tubes hung at his waist, swinging and clattering as he walked.

The stone pool? No, no. He and the fish there simply didn't get along. He had no desire to court that black fish's misfortune again anytime soon. This time, Chen Yu decided to go further outward, toward the few shallow streams near the right side of Wocan Gorge.

Called shallow streams, but some of them were waist-deep on a person. Last month, when the early rains had just passed, he had passed by them on his way into the mountains and noticed quite a bit of movement in the water. He felt there were big—ahem—fish. He only hoped there were fish, that was all.

He wasn't counting on landing anything huge. Chen Yu just wanted to get his fishing rod its first catch.

Besides that, he had also strapped a shrimp basket to his side this time. He'd see how things went—if he truly hit some strange luck and the fish wouldn't bite, at least he could scoop up some freshwater shrimp.

A small consolation.

In the mountains—nearly a month had passed since his last trip in.

The path was rugged and winding, but after a few twists and turns, he soon reached a dirt road.

Compared to the mountain trail, this road was hardly narrow. The hunters and herb gatherers from the villages below mostly took this route into the mountains, and over time, a clear path had been worn through what was once thick wild grass.

Following the road, he crossed Wocan Gorge—the very place where he had first picked reed ginseng. The cliffs on both banks were steep, the gorge deep, and a thin mist lingered at the bottom. The murmur of flowing water echoed up, faint yet continuous.

Passing beyond this point, the view suddenly opened up.

There were far more signs of human footsteps here.

This was the road leading out of the mountains. To go deeper, one would have to turn back and take the way Chen Yu had come.

Orienting himself, he found the stream he had committed to memory without much trouble.

Ancient trees spanned both banks, their long branches drooping low, vines draped over the treetops, leaves dipping into the water.

Beneath the trees lay a ground covered in cobblestones, with recessed pools scattered here and there, interlocking like jagged teeth.

Birdsong drifted into his ears. It was a tranquil, secluded spot indeed.