Bald man

"He felt sorry?" Su Su scoffed sadly, "If he really felt sorry, he should have..."

Her words trailed off unfinished. 

Hao Yu acted like he was uninvolved with these books."Uh, Teacher's Su books have the same name as Miss Feng's books! W-Was it written by the same author."

"You-" Feng Jian felt a stare from Su Su and simply stated, "Yes. It was written by a lecherous bastard."

"Eh!?" Hao Yu felt petrified and confused, "W-what do you mean?"

Su Su answered, "Teacher Hao Yu, theres something that you don't know. Actually, the author has written 7 books. 7 Books!"

"Is there a problem–"

Slam!

Su Su's fist slammed on the table, scaring the living shit out of Hao Yu. 

"Teacher Hao Yu, just think about it. How else would he be able to write such a detailed book without experiencing it?"

She looked straight at Hao Yu's eyes. 

"Don't you think that he deserve some punishment?"

Cold sweat fell from his back, but he kept his best poker face. 

"W-what would be his punishment."

"Castrate him."

"I agree."

Feng Jia and Su Su immediately answered with no hesitation. 

"D-don't you think that's a bit much?"

They didn't say anything as they firmly stood by their choice of words. 

"L-let's read the book!" He quickly grabbed [Dream of Feather] and changed the subject.

The story goes:

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.....

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In a small world where not much land remained on the ground, but floated in the sky, beast and spirit animals grew wings. This world was called The thousand-winged realm. 

Legend has it that the reason for the land floating above the clouds, was because of a divine bird that on its last breath, condensed into a world where the sky was limitless. 

"Aiya, aiya, benefactor, I see your face has dark lines above your forehead and an odor of death. If you do nothing, I'm afraid..."

A monk and a rich fat man with wings sat together in a luxurious restaurant. 

"Afraid of what?"

He rubbed his bald head with buddhist marks, "I'm afraid that it will be too late to save you."

"I-is there a way to avoid this fate!?"

The handsome buddhist nodded and smiled, "Of course."

"Please tell me the way. I will greatly repay this favor!"

"Amitabha," The monk chanted, "It's simple and yet its difficult. Its possible, but implausible!"

"Uh....what does young master mean..."

"I'm afraid you won't believe me even when I say it out loud. Forget it~ For the sake of our meeting, I should just say it."

"Please do!"

"Please give a generous donation."

"....."

The silence filled the air. The man blinked. 

"Are you serious?"

"A monk never lies."

"...then does a monk eat meat and drink wine?"

On the table were grilled chicken, spicy pork ribs, and 3 jar of wine. 

On the monks young face with not a single line of wrinkle, near his mouth–was grease and oil.

"Amitabha, I shall pray for the meat that have fallen prey to hunters. But, benefactor, if I do not eat, shall I let others waste food? Would these beings who had life be sacrificed for no reason?"

"Sounds like an excuse~" The rich fat man scoffed. He was done playing around with this interesting monk. 

"Young master, this meal is on me because we had an interesting talk. But if you continue living to me and cursing me! Then I will...."

The monk sighed and stood up. As he wore his straw hat and head for the door, he looked back.

"Remember, benefactor! When you wake up and see your pillow covered in hair, don't say I didn't warn you!"

With that, he left. 

The rich fat man was left to himself as he touched his head. 

"I'm not really going bald right?"

That's right, all this ominous talk...was about his hair.

Something that trumped death.