Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

At 5:10 a.m., Cang Tianci was awakened as if by an invisible pendulum striking him precisely. No alarm clock was needed; extreme survival had forged his body into the most precise machine. Exhaustion, like a tidal wave, tried to pull him back to sleep, but a reef-like willpower within him remained unmoved, shattering the drowsiness. He quickly sat cross-legged, circulated the Hidden Dragon Technique, and after several cycles, the drowsiness vanished, his mind clear as snow. The knowledge he had memorized yesterday flashed through his mind in an orderly fashion. He dressed, fastened his belt, and chanted incantations—a series of actions performed silently and swiftly in the dim light.

Chen Gang, on the opposite bed, turned over in his sleep and glimpsed, in his hazy state, the figure already dressed and quietly tidying the bed. He mumbled "monster" and drifted back to sleep. He was all too familiar with this scene; this junior always woke up a moment earlier than the sports school's designated wake-up time.

At 5:30 a.m., the sports school's reveille pierced the silence. A rustling sound immediately filled the dormitory, mixed with yawns and disgruntled grumbling. Chen Gang groggily sat up, rubbing his sleepy eyes, and habitually glanced at Cang Tianci's bunk across from him. The bed there was already neatly made; Cang Tianci had gone out to wash up.

"What a monster," Chen Gang muttered again, shaking his head helplessly. He knew that this junior brother's time management was precise down to the second. In order to avoid conflict with his fellow students when going to the toilet or washing up, and in order to have a quieter environment for his unwavering morning review, this junior brother deliberately avoided the peak time for waking up, waking up twenty minutes earlier than the time stipulated by the sports school.

At 5:50, Cang Tianci appeared in the training hall precisely on time. While warming up with laps, he circulated the Hidden Dragon Technique, his breathing gradually becoming long and deep, his steps even and springy. As he ran, he silently recited in his mind: "...A teacher...is one who imparts knowledge...instructs in skills...and resolves doubts..."

When it stretches flexibly, Cang Tianci's lips move. If you listen closely, you can hear the resounding verses of "A Young China": "...When the youth are wise, the nation is wise...When the youth are strong, the nation is strong..."

Zhou Zhenhua stood quietly in the shadows of the stadium, arms crossed, his gaze following the figure who seemed to have time itself woven into every movement. He saw it clearly: Cang Tianci's target practice today, though powerful, had a slight, almost imperceptible buckling at the knee of his supporting leg as he pulled back from the ground. His arch didn't grip the ground as usual upon landing; instead, it slid somewhat unsteadily—not a sign of rusty technique, but rather accumulated muscle fatigue and decreased nerve control. His gaze then swept over Chen Gang, Li Qiang, and the others. Their reaction speed was slower than usual, and their eyes lacked their usual sharpness, veiled by a persistent weariness. Zhou Zhenhua's brow furrowed. He said nothing, simply turning and quietly leaving, just as quietly as he had arrived.

After morning training ended that day, Zhou Zhenhua stopped Cang Tianci, took out a small cloth bag from his pocket, and said with concern, "Tianci, your father asked someone to bring you a dozen or so eggs, saying it's to help you get some nutrition." In reality, these eggs were taken from the free-range eggs he had prepared for his daughter, without his wife's knowledge.

"Okay, thank you, Principal Zhou!" Cang Tianci took the eggs, and thinking of his parents, he felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

Zhou Zhenhua gently patted Tianci's shoulder and continued, "Tianci, you can still call me Coach Zhou as before; it sounds more friendly. Also, I've been too busy since the start of the semester and haven't had much time to supervise your training. But I heard from your senior brother Chen Gang that you've been working very hard in your studies and training. Your fighting spirit is commendable. However, martial arts training is like drawing a bow; there needs to be a balance. If the string is too taut, it will break before the arrow is released. I noticed that your stance was a bit unstable today, and your eyes were unfocused; this is not a good sign."

Coach Zhou's rare and direct concern sent a chill down Cang Tianci's spine. He was both touched and flustered, feeling as if he had been seen through. He avoided Zhou Zhenhua's scrutinizing gaze, lowered his head, and said in a tight voice, "I...I will be careful, Coach Zhou."

At 8:00 a.m. sharp, the classroom for the gifted youth class was already full. Cang Tianci stepped in almost as the last bell rang. He quickly sat down, ignoring the various gazes directed at him, and immediately opened his textbooks and workbooks. Like the thirstiest traveler rushing to a spring, he instantly immersed himself in a sea of ​​problems.

However, the first physics unit test in the gifted youth program dealt him a heavy blow. The comprehensive application problems on the test paper, far exceeding the difficulty of elementary school, were like cold shackles, trapping his mind. Despite his best efforts, he still left two major problems blank when he handed in the paper. When the results were announced, he was only in the middle of the pack. This result was like a block of ice, heavily crashing into his heart, which was already feverish from working non-stop. During lunch break, he held the test paper, his fingertips icy cold. Lin Ruoxi walked past him, her gaze lingering on the score column for half a second. That calm, unwavering glance stung him more than any mockery. For the first time, he realized so clearly that the "speed" of the gifted youth program was overwhelming; simply grinding through the hours was far from enough.

The third period math class in the morning had a pop quiz, and the questions were tricky. The shadow of last night's failed test hadn't yet faded, and new pressure followed. The continuous lack of sleep and high pressure made his temples throb, and the numbers in front of him began to float. He tensed, forcefully focusing his mind, silently circulating the Hidden Dragon Technique. His breath sank into his dantian, then rose to his spiritual center, a strange coolness spreading through him. Those floating symbols instantly froze on the paper, his tangled thoughts severed as if by a sharp knife, revealing clear lines. He wrote with lightning speed, handing in the paper a quarter of an hour faster than usual. The instant he handed it in, a wave of dizziness, like collapsing from exhaustion, washed over him; he grabbed the corner of the desk to steady himself. "So, the 'stillness' Master taught can also be used to subdue this scattered mind." A sudden realization dawned on him, as if he had found a new path through a thicket of thorns.

The ten-minute break between classes is a rare opportunity for the students in the gifted youth program to relax and socialize. The classroom instantly becomes lively, with people chatting, playing around, sharing snacks, and discussing idol dramas; youthful energy flows everywhere.

Only Cang Tianci remained as still as a block of ice thrown into boiling water. He was oblivious to the surrounding clamor, his fingers flying across the pages of his book, sometimes rapidly calculating, sometimes concentrating with his eyes closed, sometimes moving his lips as if efficiently reviewing and memorizing. His transcendent focus formed an invisible barrier, isolating him from the jubilation around him.

Song Wei walked over with a math problem in her hand, tapping her fingertips on the table: "Hey top student, take a look at this problem. The conventional solution is too complicated."

Cang Tianci looked up, his eyes bloodshot, but his gaze remained sharp. He quickly scanned the problem, adding an auxiliary line to the diagram: "Here, connect these two points. The structures are similar; use proportions directly. Three steps." His concise approach impressed Song Wei. Looking at his thin yet focused profile, the words "Your eyes are so red" swirled in her throat, but she swallowed them back, only whispering, "Thanks!"

The afternoon training is even more intense than the morning training, a triple test of physical fitness, technique, and willpower. After each training session, his uniform is always soaked with sweat, and his muscles tremble from extreme fatigue.

During training breaks, while the other team members collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, Cang Tianci leaned against the wall, pulling out a portable English grammar manual or a few sheets of paper filled with math problems from his backpack, glancing at them as quickly as possible. His focused expression was completely different from the fierce-looking, swift-moving boy on the ring just moments before.

"Junior brother, you...you are really too hardworking! I admire you." Senior brother Wu Bin approached, panting, and gave him a thumbs up.

Cang Tianci merely raised his eyes and chuckled, "Time is tight, and I'm not very bright... I can't keep up if I don't try!"

As dusk fell, evening training at the sports school ended, often past 7 p.m. Cang Tianci, his legs feeling like lead, rushed to the school cafeteria, hastily ate his dinner, and then dashed back to school. When he arrived, his classmates were already quietly studying in their classrooms. Cang Tianci quietly entered the classroom and gently went to his seat.

After evening self-study, the journey Cang Tianci took Lin Wanqing home became the only time of day he allowed himself to "slow down." Now, it was no longer the companionship that initially involved a somewhat deliberate "help," but had evolved into a tacit companionship and a two-way discussion.

The streets were shrouded in night, the lights soft and gentle. Cang Tianci would naturally slow his pace, accommodating her rhythm. He would talk about his new insights into power generation techniques during training, which could even corroborate the momentum theorem in physics class; he would also be puzzled by the choices of scholars in a certain ancient text, discussing with her whether it was "stubbornness" or "perseverance".

Lin Wanqing always listened quietly. Occasionally, she would quietly interject with a tricky question: "So, do you think his 'I'll go even if there are thousands of people against me' spirit has anything in common with the 'Tao' you pursue when you practice martial arts?" Or, at a certain point in his train of thought, she would precisely deliver a question: "Are you saying that bodily memory is actually a kind of knowledge?"

These questions often left Cang Tianci momentarily stunned, before his eyes lit up with surprise, as if her words had illuminated a dark corner of his heart. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Wanqing, you've summarized it more clearly than I have."

In this relaxed and trusting exchange, his expression became increasingly fluent and natural, and his thoughts sparked even more ideas. For him, this journey was not just about escorting someone, but also a soothing experience for the soul and a cleansing of the mind. For Lin Wanqing, being able to enter a corner of his deep and busy spiritual world and be recognized by him as a kindred spirit who could resonate with him brought a quiet joy and satisfaction that far surpassed her initial feelings of "helping him."

Back in the sports school dormitory, it was already 9:30. Cang Tianci quickly washed up and then rushed back to his desk in the dormitory to write furiously. The workload of the junior class was enormous, and it often took several hours to complete them.

However, the sports school turns off the lights every night at ten o'clock. When the dormitory is plunged into darkness and his fellow students gradually drift off to sleep, he has only finished less than half of his homework on his desk. Although he bought a low-powered desk lamp and carefully wrapped the lampshade with a black cloth to confine the light to a small area; although he gets up quietly, as if walking on thin ice, the faint glow in the darkness and every soft sound of turning pages make him feel that he is disturbing his roommates' peace, and while he is focused, a string of guilt always hangs in his heart.

That night, however, when Cang Tianci finally finished the last problem, turned off the desk lamp, and tiptoed to his bed, he suddenly tripped over something hard. "Bang—crash!" A muffled sound, accompanied by a piercing metallic scraping sound, exploded in the silence. It turned out that he had accidentally kicked over the enamel basin that Li Qiang had placed beside the bed, and the basin rolled several times on the floor.

The sound, like a thunderclap, instantly shattered the silence of the dormitory. Li Qiang jolted awake, sat up, and looked sleepily toward the source of the sound, a flicker of annoyance and frustration at being forcibly dragged from sleep crossing his face. Although he only mumbled a muffled "Tianci, what's going on..." before rubbing his eyes and lying back down, his dissatisfaction was like a fine needle chilled to ice, piercing Cang Tianci's heart with pinpoint accuracy. Almost simultaneously, Chen Gang in the opposite bunk also turned over in the darkness, his back to Li Qiang, letting out a long, deep sigh, as if releasing a long-suppressed fatigue.

Cang Tianci stood frozen in place, his fingertips icy cold. That sigh and that look were magnified infinitely in his senses, instantly linking with his memories of Chen Gang's increasingly frequent turning over in bed, Wu Bin's barely concealed yawns during morning training, and the occasional fleeting hint of annoyance in Li Qiang's eyes… all these moments formed a cold, heavy chain that tightly bound around his neck, suffocating him. The boundary he had always carefully maintained, afraid of intruding on others, was shattered completely by that "clang." An immense sense of guilt and an almost unbearable sense of embarrassment overwhelmed him like icy water on a winter's night, leaving him feeling more powerless than the exhaustion after any extreme physical training session at the sports school.

He could see clearly that his fellow disciples had never complained. This silent understanding, which had once been a source of warmth and support for him, had now become the heaviest shackles. He knew that his lights and sounds every night, however faint, had become an unsettling and undeniable rift in this shared space.

"This can't go on any longer." This thought was no longer just an anxiety swirling in his mind; it had become, along with the "clang" that still seemed to echo in his ears, an order that had to be carried out as soon as possible. He had to find a place. A place that could accommodate his lamp and books, but one that would never again disturb anyone's peaceful dreams.