Chapter 66

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In front of the woodshed on one side of the village.

Qi Wuhuo sensed something amiss and instinctively swung to cut it, yet when he turned to look, there was nothing in sight.

All that remained were a few children running around with tree branches, their faces filled with curiosity and envy as they gazed at the young Daoist. Or rather, at the perfectly straight tree branch in the young Daoist’s hand. Their eyes sparkled with admiration until one bolder child finally asked: “Big brother, are you here to find someone? Are you a guest of the village?”

The young Daoist nodded slightly.

The sturdy child, looking both eager and hesitant, stammered: “Then… then…”

“Do you know swordsmanship?”

Qi Wuhuo had initially intended to reply affirmatively.

But then, he recalled his senior sister’s serene disdain for all sword immortals of the world as she opened her lecture.

After a slight pause, he answered: “I only know a little.”

Seeing the children’s envious gazes, he smiled knowingly, bent down slightly, letting his robe sleeves hang gently, and extended his hand, offering the branch to them with a smile. “Here, take it. You can play with it…”

“Alright!”

“Thank you, big brother!”

The children cheered joyfully and ran off, playing happily.

The young Daoist stood upright, watching the children disappear into the distance. From afar, an old man’s voice called out: “Ah, little Daoist, you’re up early! Are you feeling better now? Yesterday, I intended to keep watch outside for you, but the rain was just too heavy. This old body of mine couldn’t take it, so I had to head back early.”

“Afraid you’d catch a cold, I brought some clothes over. If you don’t mind, go ahead and change into them.”

The elderly man from yesterday approached, but to his surprise, the young man’s Daoist robe was dry and fresh, not at all soaked by the rain as he had expected.

Qi Wuhuo replied: “Thank you, Mr. Zhou. Actually, there’s a spot in the woodshed that kept me sheltered from the rain, so my clothes didn’t get wet.”

“Still, I didn’t expect it to rain so suddenly today.”

Qi Wuhuo suddenly recalled the moment yesterday when he left the fortune-teller’s place. That damp and fishy-smelling young nobleman had asked the fortune-teller to divine whether it would rain today, and if so, how many fractions of an inch it would rain in the eastern district of the city.

Qi Wuhuo had left early and didn’t hear the rest of their conversation.

The old man sighed and said: “Indeed, who could’ve expected this?”

“But the heavens are as fickle as five- or six-year-old children—changing their mood in an instant. When it rains, or when a daughter decides to marry, there’s no stopping it. Still, this rain is rather peculiar.”

Qi Wuhuo asked: “Peculiar?”

“Yes, ah.”

The old man stroked his beard and replied: “I’ve lived here for decades, and I know this place’s weather like the back of my hand. Yesterday, the clouds were so thick, the air heavy with dampness, and that biting chill of winter rain felt like it was seeping into the bones. But when the rain finally came, it was surprisingly little—just a lot of noise with hardly any real downpour, like empty bluster.”

Nearby, a middle-aged man chuckled: “Father, there you go again.”

“Reading the clouds to predict the weather? That’s the stuff of immortals.”

“You could watch the clouds your whole life, and you still wouldn’t get it right…”

The old man blew out his beard, widened his eyes, slapped his thigh, and declared:

“For the past twenty years, my old, aching knees have never lied! I can tell when it’s going to rain and even how much rain there’ll be!”

“Yesterday, my knees hurt so bad I could barely walk!”

“And yet, all we got was this measly drizzle!”

“Something’s definitely off. What, do you think your father’s body has suddenly aged so much in just a few days?”

As people grow older, a certain childlike stubbornness often emerges. His son could only humor him, saying:

“Yes, yes, Father, you’re absolutely right.”

“The rain didn’t come down enough.”

“Not enough at all!”

After a good bit of coaxing, the old man finally dropped the topic, letting his sons bring the supplies inside. In recent days, it was thanks to their help that the young girl’s mother, Lian Shulan, managed to survive. Qi Wuhuo assisted with moving and organizing the items, and then, at the old man’s earnest invitation, he stayed to have breakfast together.

A wooden pillar with a flat stone slab on top served as a farmer’s table.

Though uneven and pitted with small dents, no one minded. When a hand brushed over it, it came away damp. They didn’t care. Someone brought over a steaming bamboo basket containing simple, coarse bowls and chopsticks, along with fist-sized steamed buns. There were dishes fried over a farmer’s fierce fire: spicy stir-fried cabbage, stir-fried cured meat, and even a dish of pure stir-fried chili peppers.

The group placed their bowls on the table, and the old man instructed his daughter-in-law to take a bowl of food inside for Lian Shulan to eat as well.

The remaining people sat in groups of four, while those without a place to sit grabbed a white pottery bowl, filling it with various dishes. Holding a slightly yellowed steamed bun, over-leavened with alkali, in one hand and the bowl with a green onion tucked between their fingers in the other, they squatted nearby to eat. As they ate, they chatted about the happenings in the village—discussing spring plowing, the rainfall this year, and the hope for a good harvest. They also talked about how the children were disobedient, and not serious about studying, and how disciplining them led to quarrels with their wives.

Qi Wuhuo enjoyed a hearty meal. While the rice from Uncle Yun’s place had been exceptionally delicious, the simplicity of these dishes brought an inexplicable sense of comfort and grounding. After finishing his meal, the old man asked: “How should we treat little Lian’s illness?”

Qi Wuhuo replied: “Rest and recuperation should be the main focus.”

“Combined with acupuncture and herbal remedies, she will gradually recover.”

The old man stroked his beard and said: “That’s good to hear.”

“In life, we face all sorts of challenges, but there’s nothing that can’t be overcome.”

“We must persevere.”

“Survive, and eventually, we’ll move past those trials…”

“During this time, young Daoist, why don’t you stay here with us? There are still a few houses in the village fit for guests.” The old man glanced around the courtyard and sighed, “Don’t refuse. We’ve all seen how much she’s suffered lately. In this village, when troubles come, we endure them because there’s no other way.”

“Meeting someone as kind-hearted as you, willing to help treat her, is something we’re all grateful for.”

The old man then led Qi Wuhuo to a relatively small courtyard. The door wasn’t locked, and when they pushed it open, the house inside contained a table, a bed, and a cabinet. It was clear no one had been here for some time, as the surfaces were covered in dust. The old man apologized:

“This place was originally prepared for guests or the occasional traveling merchants who stayed here. The merchants would find convenience in lodging, and we villagers could purchase goods we needed—it was mutually beneficial. But now, with the New Year approaching, the merchants have all gone home.”

“If the young Daoist doesn’t mind, you can stay here for now.”

“I’ll have someone tidy it up for you.”

The old gentleman was very enthusiastic and then said with a smile: “By the way, may I ask your name, young Daoist?”

The young Daoist replied: “Qi Wuhuo.”

“It means to live a life without regret or doubt…”

The old man chuckled. “That name carries profound meaning.”

“And how old are you now?”

The young man instinctively replied: “After the New Year, I’ll be fifteen…”

His voice paused briefly.

Then he corrected himself: “After the New Year, I’ll already be sixteen.”

Qi Wuhuo didn’t idle. He helped tidy up the house as well. After roughly an hour, the house, which had been unused for a month or two, was once again clean and orderly. The old man even gave him a few books, saying that if he had free time, he could read them to broaden his knowledge and understanding. Qi Wuhuo nodded in agreement.

The old man, stroking his beard, left with a smile, feeling pleased that he had encouraged another young person to read more.

If he weren’t a Daoist monk.

“He’d be a promising young talent. If he read more books, he might even pass the imperial examinations as a scholar.”

“But taking the path of Daoism—what a pity.” He said to his son beside him.

Not in a hurry to return home, the old man had initially thought the rain would make his chronic leg pain unbearable, leading him to postpone many tasks. Yet, surprisingly, his legs felt better than expected. Finding himself with free time, he walked over to the Lian household. There, he saw Lian Shulan, visibly more spirited after undergoing acupuncture and eating a hearty meal.

His heart was filled with both relief and melancholy.

He thought to himself that perhaps her current improvement stemmed from having found a glimmer of hope. Yet he also worried that, upon learning the truth, she might fall into despair once more.

After sighing for a long while, he simply shook his head and left. As he passed by the woodshed, he remarked with a smile:

“Who would’ve thought this woodshed could keep out the rain?”

Glancing casually inside, he suddenly noticed that rainwater had seeped through every corner of the shed.

The old man crouched down and ran his hand over the firewood. Even the driest wood had been thoroughly soaked, so much so that when he grabbed a piece, wood chips crumbled and fell to the ground.

From this, it was clear how heavy the rain had been the previous night.

He abruptly recalled the young Daoist’s earlier statement and his still-dry robe:

“…The woodshed actually has a spot that keeps the rain out, so my clothes didn’t get wet…”

The old man froze in place, stunned.

………………..

Qi Wuhuo decided that today, he would head back to the city to inquire further with that fortune-teller.

Not about what had happened yesterday.

But rather about last year—what had truly taken place.

As he pushed the door open, he suddenly felt a subtle spiritual sensation. Lowering his gaze, he noticed the wooden box at his waist. Within it, the bronze mirror began to emit a faint glow. A natural radiance of Daoist light and spiritual resonance swirled and shifted across its surface.

After waiting for a day and a half, Yun Qin finally sent a response.
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