Chapter 941: Opinion Letter

Morning.

Chen Ling slowly opened his eyes.

Bright sunlight streamed in through the window, bringing a touch of warmth to the otherwise oppressive and gloomy room. The azure glass windows shone like gems, and the white quill on the table glittered in the sun.

Lying on the bed, Chen Ling’s gaze swept over his surroundings, feeling as if an eternity had passed.

“It’s already nine o’clock…” Chen Ling murmured to himself, then rubbed his tired temples before getting out of bed.

After splashing his face with cool water, Chen Ling felt more awake. He casually put on his theatrical robe. At the same time, a knock sounded from outside.

Knock, knock—

As Chen Ling opened the door, a maid stood respectfully outside.

“Mr. Chen,” the maid’s voice was soft and light, “your breakfast is ready.”

“Got it,” Chen Ling said, about to close the door. After a moment of hesitation, he added, “What’s for breakfast today?”

“Noodles, sir. Five bowls have been prepared for you.”

“Alright.”

Chen Ling quickly tidied himself up, then followed the maid to the dining hall.

The church did not appear large from the outside, but it contained everything imaginable within. As Chen Ling entered the dining hall, a dozen tables came into view. Perhaps because it was late, the hall was largely empty, save for a figure dressed in plain linen, sitting alone at an unoccupied table.

“I thought you’d want to get as far away from here as possible. I didn’t expect you’d have time for breakfast.”

Chen Ling naturally sat down opposite him.

Ying Fu didn’t reply. He simply watched Chen Ling for a moment before speaking slowly: “Nothing to do, so I came to eat.”

“You don’t seem like someone who’d make a special trip to a church just for food,” Chen Ling said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Before Chen Ling could finish speaking, the maid approached, carrying bowls of noodles one after another. Five large, extra-sized bowls were placed in a row before him, looking quite impressive.

Seeing this, Ying Fu turned to the maid with an expressionless face. “Bring me a bowl too, the same as his.”

“Yes, sir.” The maid turned to prepare it.

“Did you come specifically to wait for me?” Chen Ling asked, surprised.

Ying Fu had clearly arrived earlier than him but hadn't ordered anything until Chen Ling sat down. This was quite intriguing.

Ying Fu still didn’t answer, merely changing the subject calmly. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Alright.”

Chen Ling’s gaze fell on the bowls of noodles in front of him. Spotting a few sprigs of cilantro floating on top, he frowned slightly and used his chopsticks to meticulously pick them out, placing them on the table.

Ying Fu’s eyes narrowed slightly at this sight.

“You came all this way just to ask me that?” Chen Ling asked while still picking.

“In the Imperial Dao Ancient Treasury, why did you try to kill me the moment you saw me?” Ying Fu repeated his question from last night.

“Imperial Dao Ancient Treasury…” Chen Ling frowned, appearing to rack his brain. “Have we been there?”

As soon as he spoke, the air suddenly fell silent.

Ying Fu said expressionlessly, “Oh? Then where did we meet?”

“Meet where… Which time are you talking about?”

“The first time.”

“At Xiao Yu’s funeral,” Chen Ling answered without much hesitation. “If it hadn’t been for you then, I might have jumped into the river and killed myself… You found me, pulled me out of the water, and then dragged me to Xiao Yu’s grave, making me swear I would live well for his sake…”

Chen Ling shrugged. “Honestly, I was really annoyed by you back then. You had a terrible temper, didn’t like to talk, and always had a sullen face, doing things without a word. Anyone would have thought I owed you a fortune.”

Ying Fu stared intently into his eyes.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Chen Ling,” Ying Fu asked after a long hesitation, “What is my name?”

“Ying Fu, of course,” Chen Ling replied as if it were obvious. “What’s wrong with you today? You’re being so mysterious.”

Ying Fu remained silent.

A moment later, the maid respectfully delivered a bowl of noodles to Ying Fu. “Here are your noodles.”

“…Give it to him,” Ying Fu said, standing up expressionlessly. He cast a final, seemingly disappointed look at Chen Ling. “Let him eat more; he needs to sharpen his mind.”

“?” Chen Ling asked, bewildered, “Ying Fu, aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Ying Fu walked out without looking back.

The maid, holding the bowl of noodles, was at a loss. Finally, she looked at Chen Ling.

“…Idiot.” Chen Ling snorted coldly. “Give that bowl to me too. I’ll eat it all.”

As the sixth bowl of noodles was placed before Chen Ling, he again used his chopsticks to meticulously pick out the cilantro, then slowly put the chopsticks down.

He glanced at Ying Fu’s retreating back, then stood up from his seat.

Then, holding the noodle bowls with both hands, he devoured the contents like a beast, soup spilling down the corners of his mouth. A large, extra-sized portion of noodles was entirely consumed in mere seconds.

CRASH—!

To the maids’ astonishment, he slammed an empty bowl heavily onto the table, then picked up another, gulping down its contents with loud slurps.

In a short while, all six noodle bowls were empty.

“Clear these away.” Chen Ling wiped the soup from his mouth with the sleeve of his theatrical robe and walked out without looking back.

As he reached the hallway, he saw a figure approaching him: the Saint of Thieves, Chi Tong.

Chi Tong appeared to be heading for a meal himself. Upon encountering Chen Ling, his body involuntarily tensed, and his eyes filled with wariness.

“What’s wrong?” Chen Ling asked, puzzled, glancing at him and touching his own cheek. “Do I have noodles on my face?”

Chi Tong, seeing the absence of murderous intent in Chen Ling, somewhat calmed down. He scrutinized him for a few moments, then asked tentatively, “What are you going to do?”

“Do what?” Chen Ling mused. “I don’t know… Maybe I’ll go back and tidy my room, then take a nap. If I have time in the afternoon, I want to try writing another letter of suggestion.”

“Letter of suggestion? What kind of letter of suggestion?”

“It’s still about canceling the 18-hour mandatory work policy for all districts,” Chen Ling stated firmly. “As long as you don’t cancel this policy, I’ll write a letter every day. Even if you confine me here, I’ll still write… I want to speak up for all residents of the Wuji Realm.”

Chi Tong’s gaze upon Chen Ling gradually changed, from initial wariness to later confusion, and now, a hint of a smile appeared in his eyes.

“Oh, so that’s it,” Chi Tong chuckled. “Well, you go on with your business then.”

“So, when can I leave?”

“That… the King decides.”

“When can I see the King?”

“When the time is right, he will naturally seek you out.”

Chi Tong waved his hand, no longer paying much mind to Chen Ling, and turned to enter the dining hall.

Chen Ling stood by the doorway, sighed helplessly, and then walked towards his room with a sense of dejection.