Unintended Immortality-Chapter 377: Tales from Zhengxi

The old inn felt like it was shedding dust from above.

The innkeeper, also elderly, stood nearby, wiping down surfaces with a rag.

“Do you have rice wine? Or fermented rice?” Song You asked.

“You mean fermented rice porridge?” the innkeeper replied in a thick local accent, leaning in to catch his words.

Song You thought for a moment. “The kind that can make you drunk?”

“That stuff? It doesn’t make you drunk! You could eat as much as you want and not get tipsy—unless a child eats too much of it...”

“That’s the one.”

“So you just want fermented rice porridge?”

“Cook a bowl, please, and crack two poached eggs into it. Can you make it that way?” Song You was ready to introduce Lady Calico to a new delicacy.

“Of course, of course.”

“How much will it cost?”

“Two eggs? With or without sugar?”

“With sugar.”

“Sugar’s pricey these days—it’ll be fifteen wen.”

“Give me a bowl, then.”

“Is that all you’re eating?”

“Do you have any special dishes here?” Song You asked. “Something unique to this place, something tasty that you can’t find anywhere else?”

“Cat's Ears!”

“...!”

Lady Calico, who had been squatting at the Daoist’s feet, diligently licking her paws and washing her face, froze. She looked up, staring blankly at the innkeeper, her paws suspended mid-air. She had completely forgotten to put her paws back down.

Song You was also momentarily taken aback.

“Cat's Ears?” he repeated.

“Hahaha...” The innkeeper grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. “It’s made from dough—Cat's Ears—about this big...” He gestured, indicating something the size of a fingernail.

Song You finally relaxed, his expression softening into a smile. The cat, too, averted her gaze and resumed grooming her paws.

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“How much is it?”

“Boiled in plain water with soy sauce and vinegar, twelve wen. Stir-fried with toppings, twenty wen for a big bowl.”

“I’ll take a stir-fried one.”

“Got it,” the innkeeper said as he headed toward the kitchen.

The fermented rice with poached eggs arrived first.

The innkeeper was generous—perhaps out of kindness to the Daoist or simply because of his age. Though Song You had only ordered two eggs, the innkeeper brought out a large bowl filled to the brim with fermented rice.

“Thud!”

The cat leapt onto the table, staring intently at him.

Song You picked up a spoon, scooped some of the soup, blew on it twice, and tasted it.

“Slurp...”

The cat stared at him unblinkingly, her eyes seeming to speak volumes. Song You understood her message clearly.

“It’s good,” Song You said. “But the sweetness is quite faint.”

That was to be expected.

He reached into his pouch and took out a small jar containing fine, white sugar with a slight golden hue—white granulated sugar. However, he didn’t rush to add it to the bowl. Instead, he retrieved Lady Calico’s small bowl, carefully scooped one poached egg into it, then transferred most of the fermented rice to the bowl. Finally, he filled it up with the remaining broth.

“Cooked fermented rice has reduced toxicity, so you can safely eat a full bowl,” he said.

“...?”

The cat looked down at the bowl, then back up at him, tilting her head slowly. Her small bowl was nearly filled by just one poached egg. How could this be called “a full bowl”? It was clearly just half a bowl!

“If you finish this, I’ll prepare another for you,” the Daoist said helplessly. Only then did he scoop a spoonful of sugar from the jar and sprinkle it into her bowl.

The cat’s gaze followed his every movement, her head tilting slightly upward as he worked.

“That’s enough. It’ll definitely be sweet,” he assured her.

“Meow!” she protested.

“Little ones shouldn’t eat too much sugar. Besides, the sugar we brought is limited. Until we reach Yangdu, we’ll probably only be able to buy brown sugar. Lady Calico needs to use it sparingly,” Song You said as he stirred the sugar into her small bowl with a spoon.

He paused briefly, contemplating something.

He considered adding, “Besides, this sugar is very expensive,” thinking that Lady Calico would surely be convinced by that. But after some thought, he decided against it. Instead, he said, “We could always collect honey from the wild. That would depend on your skills.”

Lady Calico was good at taking advice, though she still let out another “meow” as he put the sugar away.

“I’m not as fond of sugar as you, Lady Calico. Just a hint of sweetness is enough for me,” Song You said as he gently pushed the small bowl toward her, full of poached egg and fermented rice. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“...”

The cat stared at him for a while before leaning forward. She cautiously tested the temperature of the soup, sniffed it, then extended her tongue to start licking.

“How is it?” Song You asked.

“Meow meow meow...” Lady Calico let out small sounds, clearly finding it too hot but eating it anyway.

It seemed the warm fermented rice was a completely new experience for her.

At that moment, the innkeeper returned with another bowl in hand.

“Here are the Cat's Ears!”

Lady Calico paused, looking up at the bowl the innkeeper placed on the table.

“Oh!” The innkeeper chuckled, setting the bowl down and glancing at the eating cat. “Did you order the fermented rice porridge and eggs just for her?”

“She loves it,” Song You replied.

“You treat her well, sir!” the innkeeper said.

“She’s accompanied me on my travels across the world. I can’t let her be mistreated,” Song You said lightly.

“Where are you from?”

“Yizhou...” As Song You responded, he glanced at the bowl of Cat's Ears the innkeeper had brought over.

It was filled with tiny pieces of dough.

It looked like the dough had been cut into fingernail-sized pieces and then pinched into shape with fingers. The dough curled up and ended up not much larger than a fingernail, with patterns on the surface whose origin was unclear. Once cooked, it became slightly translucent and did resemble the ears of a small animal. Perhaps it was because of this resemblance that it was given this name.

The bowl was generously filled, topped with a flavorful sauce. It looked smooth and springy.

Song You mixed the dish thoroughly and took a bite.

The texture was wonderfully slippery and chewy, and the taste was excellent.

Scooping up a spoonful, Song You held it out toward the cat. “Cat's Ears—Lady Calico, would you like to try?”

Lady Calico immediately shrank her neck back, staring at the offered spoon in silence. She turned her head away and avoided the spoon entirely, returning her focus to her fermented rice and eggs.

“Hahaha...” The innkeeper chuckled at the scene.

In his old age, he enjoyed watching these little interactions. With the shop empty, he decided to sit at the table next to Song You, turning slightly toward him to chat idly. He asked about the Daoist’s travels—why he was in the area, where he was headed—and shared some tales of gods and ghosts.

Song You welcomed the conversation, happy to chat.

By the time he was halfway through the bowl of Cat's Ears, he and the innkeeper had grown familiar with each other. Offering a compliment, Song You said, “Your cooking is truly exceptional.”

“Ah, we’re just a small place. Not much in the way of fine cuisine—just a few simple dishes. This one fills the stomach well. I’m just glad that you like it,” the innkeeper replied modestly.

“On my way here, I heard a rumor,” Song You said, pausing for a moment. “It was about the Yin River from a long time ago. They said there was a River God, and this River God had some kind of artifact that someone managed to take. I’m particularly interested in such stories. Have you heard of it?”

“That’s an old tale from right around here!” the innkeeper exclaimed.

“Indeed, when I asked the person who told me the story, they couldn’t provide much detail either. They just said they’d heard it here in Zhengxi, but who knows if it’s true or not.”

“These are ancient tales. Who can say what’s true? But people all insist it’s real, and they even name names! They say the person in the story has descendants, and their family name is still known today.”

“Is that so?”

This old innkeeper was far more straightforward than the one in Southern Art County. He didn’t ask Song You to buy tea or anything, but merely adjusted his sitting posture before beginning the tale.

“They say it happened a long time ago—though exactly when, I’m not sure. Some say 800 years ago, others say a thousand. The person in question was apparently called Bo Shu or something like that...”

“Bo Shu...” Song You mused. It did sound like an ancient name.

“That’s right, Bo Shu! This man had some skills; they say he was a Daoist practitioner, someone who knew magic and was very trustworthy!” the innkeeper continued.

“The story goes that one day, he went to the riverbank to fish. It was a hot day, and he took a nap under a tree by the river. In his dream, a man came out of the river, saying he’d heard of Bo Shu’s great reputation. He asked for his help—or to deliver a message, depending on the version—and instructed him to go to the middle of the sea.

“The man gave him a knife and told him that if he took the knife to the shore and made a cut across the water, the sea would part, allowing him to walk through without drowning.”

“Amazing,” Song You commented at the right moment.

“That’s how the story goes...” the innkeeper said modestly.

“Please go on,” Song You encouraged.

“In the dream, Bo Shu agreed. But when he woke up, he found an actual knife by his side. Confused but feeling obligated to keep his word, he decided to go. He went to the shore and did as the figure had said—he cut the sea with the knife, and sure enough, the waters parted.

“He walked into the sea, and though the waters closed around him, he wasn’t drowned. It’s said he could breathe underwater just as easily as on land. In the middle of the sea, he was even hosted by the Dragon Lord before returning.

“However,” the innkeeper said, “the journey back was long, and the air on the way was full of poisonous miasma. He fell ill and barely made it home. After telling his wife, children, and neighbors about what had happened, he instructed his son to return the knife to the River God. Then, he passed away.”

“Did his son refuse to return the knife?” Song You asked.

“Exactly! His son didn’t keep his word. Hearing how powerful the knife was, after burying his father, he hid the knife away and left for a faraway place. No matter how powerful the River God was, he couldn’t leave the river to chase someone so far from the water!” The innkeeper recounted the tale with great enthusiasm, his gestures animated.

“Eventually, the River God grew furious, and the Yin River changed its course, flooding countless fields and causing suffering for many people. Later, it’s said the River God was punished by the heavens and taken away. Only then did the family return to Zhengxi, and later they even became officials.”

The innkeeper’s vivid storytelling captivated Song You, who listened with great interest.

Even though the innkeeper spoke with a heavy accent and his words were somewhat unclear, Song You could piece together the gist of the tale.

Stories like this carried a distinct classical style.

Their simplicity was part of their charm, though they often lacked details. This simplicity left room for the listener to fill in the gaps with imagination, making the story endlessly intriguing.

In the folk tales of those times, people seemed to place great importance on trust and integrity. Trusting someone was easy, and so was betraying them. This could be attributed to the simpler minds of that era, but it also reflected how details had been lost over the centuries in the retelling of such tales.

For example, no one knew why the River God sought out Bo Shu in the first place, how he convinced him, or what terms were exchanged between them. Nor was it clear how Bo Shu’s son managed to escape the River God’s wrath, or how the River God was eventually dethroned by the Heavenly Palace.

Even Bo Shu’s journey to the sea was overly simplified.

The story made it sound as though he left one day and arrived the next, but Song You knew the sea was over a thousand li away from here, with mountains, rivers, and miasma-filled lands in between. The journey would have been extremely arduous.

Simplifying these elements made the tale more romantic and idealized.

After mulling over the story for a moment, Song You asked, “Earlier, you mentioned that this family became officials, and their descendants, with a recognized family name, still exist?”

“Yes, because after the River God was gone, the Yin River became unpredictable and dangerous. Water ghosts and demons frequently harmed people, sometimes even coming ashore to cause trouble. That Zheng family, possessing the River God’s knife, could command the river and scare off the water demons and ghosts. The government eventually made them officials in charge of the river,” the innkeeper explained.

“And what happened after that?”

“Later, the family grew increasingly powerful, their descendants flourishing. However, as generations passed, their offspring became less capable, and their mastery of magic dwindled. The knife also lost much of its former power. Later on, when the founding emperor raised his army, it was said that as his troops passed through here, they camped outside the city, while the emperor stayed in their house.

“The head of the Zheng family at that time shared a meal with the emperor and then left with him, never to return.”

“Left with the emperor?”

“Of course!”

“They were the meritorious officials of the dragon...”

“Huh?”

“It refers to those who aided the emperor in his conquest of the land. It’s a great honor.”

“Exactly!”

“Is that family still around?” Song You asked.

“They are! They’re still the largest family in Zhengxi and have even been granted a noble title. But the head of the family back then never returned, and the knife was lost. Nowadays, they’re a famous family, but even they aren’t sure if the story is true. It might just be something made up by one of their descendants—who knows if such a powerful knife even existed,” the innkeeper said with a chuckle.

“Fascinating,” Song You replied with a nod, sinking into thought.

Meanwhile, Lady Calico had finished the broth in her bowl and had started eating the fermented rice and poached eggs. Hearing the conversation about the knife, she glanced up at the innkeeper before quickly lowering her head to continue licking her bowl.

The knife in question was currently tucked away in her pouch.