Chapter 141: The Foolish Old Man Removes the Mountains
The clinic's "security guard" had returned.
More accurately, the man himself was back—
but the position was temporarily vacant.
The reason was simple.
He had gone off to hunt down the remnants of Santino's organization.
John claimed it wasn't for the bounty.
That, Ethan believed.
He also claimed it wasn't for revenge.
That… Ethan remained skeptical about.
John's explanation was:
"For the clinic's safety.
To eliminate hidden threats.
And to leave no loose ends."
Ethan was deeply confused.
If this was for the clinic's safety, shouldn't he be standing loyally outside the front door acting like an actual security guard?
Since when did going out to wage war count as "security protocol"?
John merely replied calmly:
"The clinic is already safe. Whether I'm there or not doesn't make much difference."
…Fine.
You're the professional here.
Helen added from the side that it probably had something to do with the Continental Hotel or the High Table.
Apparently… some kind of agreement had been reached.
"Apparently? Some kind?" Ethan repeated those words silently in his head.
You're not sure about your own husband's business?
Or maybe—
she'd simply gotten used to John's communication style, where if he didn't bring something up, everyone collectively pretended it didn't exist.
At that moment, Ethan became genuinely curious.
How exactly did someone like John—
a man who treated every extra word as wasted energy—
manage to date Helen in the first place?
Did the two of them progress emotionally through nodding?
Eye contact?
Strategic silence?
Only then did Ethan realize that he was now surrounded by two absolute extremes.
One was Sheldon—
a man capable of turning laundry into a sixty-minute uninterrupted academic lecture.
The other was John—
a man capable of compressing world-shaking events into two words.
Sometimes one look.
After living with Sheldon for years, Ethan had developed considerable resistance to verbal noise.
But now there was John too.
And for the first time, Ethan realized something terrifying:
Sometimes silence was even more exhausting than endless talking.
He suddenly began to understand those couples where the wife would rather get screamed at than endure complete emotional silence.
People could train themselves to tolerate noise.
But cold indifference?
Sometimes that was unbearable.
Ethan drove back to the apartment building.
As soon as he walked inside, he spotted Sheldon and Leonard standing near the mailboxes.
Sheldon had his head lowered, carefully sorting through letters one by one.
Leonard stood beside him carrying a thick stack of mail, most of which appeared to be advertisements.
"Hey, Sheldon. Hey, Leonard," Ethan greeted.
"Hey, Ethan." Leonard waved.
"Hello," Sheldon replied without even looking up.
The three of them headed toward the stairs together.
Just as they reached the stairwell, Leonard suddenly stopped and pulled an envelope from the pile.
"Oh right, this one's yours."
"Thanks."
Ethan took it and glanced down.
Credit card bill.
"Honestly," he said while shaking the envelope slightly, "why do credit card companies still mail these things?"
"Wouldn't an email be enough?"
Leonard looked at him.
"You don't like paper bills?"
"It's not that." Ethan sighed.
"They already emailed me a reminder."
"Now they're mailing a physical copy too."
"How worried are they that I'll forget I owe the bank money?"
Leonard shrugged.
"I don't really care. One copy or two copies, same thing."
Ethan turned to him.
"Same thing?"
"Yeah." Leonard nodded.
"I read the emails. I read the paper mail too."
"Honestly, I even read the advertisements."
Sheldon suddenly cut in, his tone filled with the sort of judgment usually reserved for obvious stupidity.
"The existence of paper billing is entirely justified."
He raised one finger.
"First: physical archives are more reliable."
"Second: electronic systems possess unpredictable failure rates."
"Third—"
He paused dramatically.
"I do not trust servers."
Leonard blinked.
"You don't trust servers?"
"Correct." Sheldon nodded.
"Including those that claim to possess 99.99% uptime stability."
Ethan replied, "Sheldon, machines are usually more reliable than people."
"I agree," Sheldon said immediately.
"But I still prefer physical archives."
"Servers can crash, get hacked, or suffer accidental deletion."
"Our network infrastructure is far less reliable than you imagine."
Ethan and Leonard exchanged a look.
Without needing to say anything, both silently agreed to abandon the conversation.
The three of them reached the second-floor hallway just as Penny came downstairs.
She was already wearing her waitress uniform, clearly on her way to work.
"Hey, guys."
"Hey, Penny," the three replied one after another.
Leonard visibly straightened up and almost immediately asked:
"Penny, if you're free Friday night, maybe we could go see a movie?"
"…Hmm." Penny brushed her hair aside and thought for a second.
"I think I'm working Friday night."
"Okay," Leonard pressed on immediately. "What about Saturday?"
Penny instinctively glanced toward Ethan.
Ethan wore the perfect expression of I'm just passing through. Please do not involve me.
"I'm not sure yet," Penny said.
"My manager hasn't posted the schedule."
She thought for a moment, then added:
"How about this? If I'm free, I'll let you know."
Leonard nodded so quickly it almost looked painful.
"Okay. I'll wait to hear from you."
"Alright. Bye."
Penny waved at the three of them and headed downstairs.
The moment she disappeared around the corner, Leonard completely collapsed.
"Oh my God…" he groaned in despair.
"I really am the disgusting fish."
"What exactly did I do wrong?"
Sheldon looked genuinely confused.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Other than the information you and Penny explicitly told me, I know absolutely nothing about your relationship."
"Oh."
Sheldon suddenly remembered something.
"There is one piece of information that may prove useful."
Leonard immediately looked up.
"What information?"
"Penny believes that attending community college is potentially worse than not attending college at all."
Sheldon stated it calmly.
"To be perfectly honest, I strongly agree with her assessment."
Leonard froze.
"…What does that even mean?"
"It means nothing." Sheldon shrugged.
"The rest is between you and Penny."
"I can't help you any further."
Leonard fell silent for two seconds before turning toward Ethan.
"Ethan?"
Ethan sighed, folded up the bill in his hand, and slipped it into his pocket.
"Let me tell you a story."
"Right now?" Leonard blinked.
"Right now." Ethan nodded. "It's a story called The Foolish Old Man Removes the Mountains."
Sheldon frowned immediately.
"Based solely on the title, I can already conclude that this is an obvious folk tale that violates the principles of basic mechanics."
"I'm not telling it to you," Ethan cut him off mercilessly.
Sheldon shut up.
"A long time ago, there was an old man everyone called the Foolish Old Man."
"In front of his house stood two enormous mountains, one on each side, completely blocking the road."
"Every time he wanted to leave home, he had to take a massive detour."
"One day, he sat outside his door, looked at the mountains, and said:
'No. This problem needs to be solved.'"
Sheldon blinked.
"So his plan was… to relocate?"
"No." Ethan shook his head.
"His plan was… to dig the mountains away."
"With a hoe."
"One swing at a time."
"Everyone thought he was insane. There was no way anyone could finish digging through two mountains."
"But every single day, he kept digging."
"And he brought his entire family with him."
"People mocked him."
'These are mountains, not dirt piles. You'll never finish in your lifetime.'
"And the old man replied:
'If I can't finish, then my son will continue.'
'If my son can't finish, then my grandson will continue.'
'Eventually, someone will finish the job.'"
Leonard stared at Ethan quietly.
"The story eventually reached Heaven."
"When God heard it, he was moved."
"So he sent down two angels…"
"…and they simply carried the mountains away."
"The next morning, the old man opened his door…"
"…and the road was clear."
"The mountains were gone."
Ethan patted Leonard on the shoulder.
Leonard remained silent for several seconds before slowly exhaling.
"So…"
"…Penny is the mountain."
"And the only thing I can do now…"
"…is keep digging."
"Either I dig through it eventually…"
"…or some miracle happens."
"Exactly." Ethan nodded.
Sheldon suddenly added:
"From a mythological structure standpoint, the rational interpretation of this story is that sustained behavioral persistence eventually triggered external high-level intervention."
"Sheldon." Ethan looked at him seriously.
"The point is to learn from the Foolish Old Man's spirit of perseverance."
"Please stop analyzing the logic."
Sheldon raised a hand.
"I have two questions."
Ethan sighed.
"Go ahead."
"First: why didn't the Foolish Old Man simply move?"
"It's not that he didn't know moving was possible," Ethan replied.
"He chose not to move."
"Just like Leonard chose Penny."
"Why doesn't Leonard simply pursue Leslie instead?"
"Acceptable." Sheldon nodded.
"Second question."
"According to this metaphor, 'removing the mountain' is equivalent to successfully pursuing Penny."
"Now the problem emerges."
He paused dramatically.
"In the original story, the Foolish Old Man himself could not complete the task."
"The only reason the mountain removal succeeded was because he possessed descendants who could continue the labor across generations."
"But under the current equivalency…"
Sheldon turned toward Leonard.
"Leonard can only produce descendants after successfully obtaining Penny."
"Which means…"
"The prerequisite for 'continued effort leading to success' depends entirely upon the success condition already being fulfilled."
"This creates a mutually dependent logical deadlock."
"Therefore, the conclusion is obvious."
"Without introducing divine intervention, infinite lifespan, or additional assumptions…"
"…Leonard will never finish digging through this mountain within his lifetime."
"..."
Ethan fell silent.
"So?" Sheldon asked.
"Uh… sorry, Sheldon," Ethan said slowly. "What was the first thing you said earlier?"
"I said Leonard lacks descendants—"
"No, not that one." Ethan waved him off.
"The first sentence."
Sheldon thought for a moment.
"Based solely on the title, I can already conclude that this is an obvious folk tale violating the principles of basic mechanics."
"Exactly!" Ethan pointed at him immediately.
"You're absolutely right."
"We're done telling stories now."