Unintended Immortality-Chapter 587: The Greatest Gain of These Thirteen Years

“Sir, you’re checking out?”

“I am.”

“Heading somewhere else now?”

“I’ll be going west.”

“Then I wish you a smooth journey.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Song You packed his belongings and checked out of the inn. The shopkeeper had always treated him with courtesy, and naturally, he returned the gesture with equal respect.

However, he did not leave immediately. Instead, he took Lady Calico and the jujube-red horse and walked into the Tianshui Alley across the street once more. Perhaps this would be the last time he saw it. He walked all the way to the little courtyard where he had once lived and knocked on the door, quietly waiting for someone to answer.

“Who is it?”

“The Daoist staying at the inn across the street.”

Creak!

The door opened at once.

But it wasn’t Butcher Gao who answered; it was a little boy, with a woman standing behind him.

“Mr. Gao isn’t home?”

“He went out early this morning.”

“No matter.” Song You smiled. “It’s nothing urgent. I’ve been back in Yidu for a few days now, and today I’m leaving again. I just wanted to express my gratitude for the hospitality you’ve shown these past few days. I’m very thankful, and I came to say goodbye in person.”

He stood at the door and didn’t step inside. As he spoke, he took two talismans from his robe.

“I have nothing else to offer, so I’ll leave you these two talismans. Hang them at home to ward off evil and ghosts. And with Mr. Gao’s own vital energy and courage, I believe that even if turbulent times come in the future, it’ll be enough to protect your household from harm.”

“This is...”

The woman took the talismans, at a loss for words.

“Please give our thanks to Mr. Gao and let him know we’ve left. If fate allows, we’ll return in seven years and be sure to visit again.” Song You didn’t press the matter and politely cupped his hands. “Farewell.”

He didn’t forget to lower his hand a little and say to the little boy, “Farewell.”

The young girl beside him followed his example, cupping her hands as well. Her voice was soft and delicate, but her expression was solemn as she echoed, “Farewell.”

Hearing this, the woman didn’t know what to say, while the child stared with wide eyes.

Then, the man, the girl, and the horse turned and left. The horse’s hooves clattered over the flagstones, while the little bell on its neck jingled crisply.

“Heh...” The Daoist couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

This return had originally been intended to trace the footsteps he had left thirteen years ago, to put to rest old memories, but unexpectedly, the very act of retracing those steps left behind new footprints and created new memories in turn. Perhaps that, too, was part of the wonder of it all.

Leisurely, they made their way out of the city, taking in the sights of the town as they went. This time, they exited through the western gate, and the city guards did not stop them.

The Daoist left the city heading west, to seek out another old acquaintance. Following the official road, they crossed an unknown number of mountains, passed over two bridges, and walked from morning until afternoon before eventually arriving at a county town called Siyuan County.

As before, they found an inn within the county and stayed the night. The next morning, they set out according to memory.

The road stretched for several dozen li, dotted with three or five pavilions and over ten smoke-threaded villages.

This time, however, the weather was not cold, which made the journey much easier than before. Many sections of the road felt both familiar and unfamiliar; some stretches became increasingly recognizable the further they went, confirming they were on the right path; others grew more and more alien, prompting them to turn back and try again.

After traveling most of the day, they finally arrived at Xinzhuang, beneath Eagle Mountain. Before them stood a bamboo cottage. The walls were made of woven bamboo slats, the roof of thatch, with a simple fence enclosing the yard. Inside, all was quiet, as if no one lived there anymore.

At this time, the Daoist stood outside the fence, looking toward the house. The cat stood beside him, stretching out its neck to peer inside as well. A glint of recollection flickered in her eyes.

This was the bamboo dwelling of master sculptor, Kong Daizhao.

Song You had once visited this place to seek out a reclusive expert, witnessing firsthand Kong Daizhao’s astonishing woodcarving skills and gaining much enlightenment. The fortune he received here had been extraordinary, so much so that he was still benefiting from it even now.

That was why, upon returning to Yizhou, he had wanted to come back and pay a visit, to express his gratitude if the master was still around. But it seemed the old man no longer lived here.

Knock knock...

Still, Song You gave a few gentle knocks at the door before peering into the house. Naturally, there was no response.

“Is anyone home?”

Still, there was no movement or sound.

He only turned his head for a brief moment, and when he looked down again, he saw that his cat had already slipped through the fence and was heading casually toward the door.

“Lady Calico, why did you go in?”

“I just walked in, that’s all.”

“...”

Song You looked down.

The gap in the wooden gate was a bit narrow, but the spaces between the bamboo fence were much wider. A hen might not be able to squeeze through, but a cat could slip in with ease.

“Lady Calico, come back.”

“Hm? Why?” The cat paused mid-step and turned back to look at him. “I just want to see if anyone’s inside.”

“But the door is shut, isn’t it?”

“I won’t go through the door, I just want to look through the window.”

“But the fence counts as the yard, and the wooden gate counts as a door.”

“Fence? Wooden gate?”

The cat looked at the bamboo railing that formed the courtyard. After a moment’s thought, she looked up at him and said, “If this door can’t keep a cat out, then clearly it wasn’t meant to. So a cat can go in.”

“...” That actually made a strange sort of sense.

The cat withdrew her gaze, swayed her head as if deep in thought, and continued walking forward.

With a light swish, she leapt onto the windowsill and peeked inside for a moment. Then she padded to the front door and, imitating the Daoist’s actions from back when they visited the divine doctor on Mount Beiqin, used her paw to brush at the ground near the entrance.

Lowering her head, she inspected the dust and markings, then turned around and said to the Daoist, “It’s a mess in there, and there’s dust everywhere. Even the doorstep is covered in dust.”

She wandered over to another room and gave it a glance. “This one’s roof is half gone.”

Song You changed his angle and looked more carefully; sure enough, one of the roofs was missing most of its thatch. It was unclear whether it had been stripped away by the autumn wind or removed by someone.

“Sigh...” The Daoist let out a long sigh. “Lady Calico, come back now.”

“Okay!” The cat turned around and came back.

She chose a slightly wider gap in the fence and, with practiced ease, slipped through it effortlessly like she was stepping over a small curb.

Song You had anticipated this, so his heart remained calm, though he felt a pang of regret. He looked around slowly, leaning on his staff as he walked around the bamboo cottage.

As expected, when he reached the bamboo grove behind the house, he saw that a new earthen mound had appeared among the trees. In front of it stood a stone tablet. It was the grave of Kong Daizhao.

The grave was no longer new, and the earth had blended in with the surrounding soil, so much so that it was barely distinguishable from the rest. Even the mound had sunk low, covered in moss and wild grass. It had clearly been some years.

The grave and the headstone had been erected by someone named “Dongyang.” That was the disciple of Kong Daizhao.

“Dongyang” had been a wooden puppet, carved so well he was practically alive. Who knew where he was now? Was he still doing well? There was incense before the grave, and the most recent stick looked like it had been placed there just this year. Perhaps Dongyang had been the one to light it.

“...”

It seemed thirteen years truly was too long.

Song You had come prepared. From his cloth bag, he took out a stick of incense. With a gentle flick, he lit it and bowed three times, honoring the past bond and kindness. Only then did he place the incense before the grave.

Throughout the process, the Daoist remained calm.

Lady Calico stood behind him and watched him closely with a solemn expression. When he finished, she asked, “That person... is he dead?”

“Most likely.”

“What about the cat?”

“...”

Song You also suddenly thought of that cat.

It was a wooden cat carved in the likeness of Lady Calico, infused with the master's own artistic vision. It bore a seven- or eight-tenths resemblance to Lady Calico, capturing her spirit and charm. Into it was poured the soul and divine craftsmanship of an unprecedented woodcarving genius, and because of that, it had come to life, and it ultimately returned to the mountains and gained its freedom.

“Thirteen years... it must be old by now, right?”

“It’s made of wood. Can it even grow old?”

“Mmm, Lady Calico, you make a good point. Maybe it hasn’t aged at all,” Song You said, not disputing her reasoning. “Maybe it’s still living freely in some mountain forest.”

“Hm...”

Hearing that it might be free and at ease, the calico cat stopped worrying. “Let’s go.”

The Daoist once more stepped forward.

They then returned to Siyuan County, resupplied with a few mantous, and refilled their waterskins at a spring in the mountains before asking for directions. By the end of the day had walked from Siyuan County back onto the Jinyang Road.

This time, they traveled in the opposite direction from before.

As soon as the cat set foot on the road, her demeanor changed. Though she still trotted along with her small steps, sometimes by the Daoist’s side, sometimes ahead, sometimes trailing behind, her interest in the insects and birds along the road had noticeably waned. Her focus had shifted completely to the road itself, and to the scenery of the surrounding mountains and streams.

Along the way, she kept glancing around as she walked. Every time she stopped, she would look up at the mountains or down at the creeks beside the road, occasionally sniffing around.

It seemed like she, too, was trying to recall something familiar from this path. But when asked, she remained silent.

A few days later, they reached Hand-Crawling Cliff. At this time, a swallow flitted lightly through the air above. A swallow could fly gracefully, but a man could not.

A narrow path carved into a cliff face clung precariously to the mountainside. It was dug straight into a nearly vertical rock wall, and it was barely tall enough for a person to stand upright. In the wider sections, perhaps three or four chi wide, one might lie down to sleep if they were brave enough, but turning over could mean falling straight into a bottomless ravine. The narrower parts allowed passage only by pressing one’s body flat against the cliff face.

At this time, the mountain wind was strong. The Daoist sat at the cliff’s edge with his legs dangling freely. The wind tousled his hair as he nibbled at a mantou, and he turned his head now and then to admire the scenery. Meanwhile, the cat sat obediently beside him.

They were high up on the sheer cliff, overlooking the vast land below. Behind them, the rock face was covered with ancient carvings, and the cliffside inscriptions told fragmented stories from different eras. In front of them stretched a range of mountains, with winding rivers threading through the valleys. Reflected in the water was another approaching dusk, and the sun in the sky was slowly sinking.

The Daoist savored the unspoiled natural beauty and the tide of memories washing over him, each stirring a myriad of feelings.

Before long, the glow of the setting sun faded. The sky above dimmed, and the horizon took on a dreamlike palette of color: a blue that wasn’t quite blue, a purple tinged with red, and a pink washed with white, all blending slowly into the gentle hues of evening twilight.

Just then, the Daoist broke off a piece of the mantou and handed it to the cat beside him. The cat didn’t hesitate at all; she carefully took it from his hand and began nibbling at it bit by bit.

“...” Seeing this, the Daoist smiled.

Back in the day, when walking this road, whether it was down on Jinyang Road or up here on Hand-Crawling Cliff, whenever he offered food to Lady Calico, she never accepted it so easily. But now, it came so naturally.

If someone were to ask him: What has been your greatest gain in these thirteen years of wandering the world? It would be this right here.