Chapter 107
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Snowflakes danced in the air, covering the vast mountains and fields in a blanket of white.
Amidst the accumulated snow, withered grass poked out in small tufts, only to be swiftly swept up—snow and all—by the tongue of a donkey, which chewed slowly and contentedly.
The old donkey, warmed by a spell, leisurely swayed its bare tail as it nibbled on the grass protruding from the snow. From time to time, it let out a snorting hum, lifting its head to follow the shallow footprints of the two figures ahead. It would trot for a short while before resuming its search for more withered grass.
After leaving the boundaries of Liyang City, the wind and snow grew fiercer. The icy gusts could freeze upon contact with one’s skin. Lu Liangsheng cast wind-warding and water-warding arts upon the Daoist beside him—spells recorded in [Emerald Heart Dream Nourishment]. He had long since devoured the entire text, but what a pity—four years ago, during that fateful night when he encountered Pudu Cihang, several pages had been consumed by the raging flames. What arcane arts those lost pages contained, he would never know. It remained a lingering regret.
“Old Sun, what do you think those people are kidnapping children and women for?”
The snowstorm howled, yet before it could reach the scholar’s robes, the winds shifted and diverted away, swirling behind them instead. Lu Liangsheng gazed into the vast, snow-laden expanse ahead. They had traveled eastward all this while and were now turning south, yet this question had continued to trouble him.
“Surely those cultivators wouldn’t stoop to something as depraved as that?”
Hearing these words, the Daoist beside him remained unfazed. Rubbing his hands together and huffing warm breath into them, he shivered as he replied,
“How should this Daoist know? Either way, those heretical cultivators meddling in the unorthodox have always done things that defy all convention… Aiyo, I’m freezing to death! Why did we have to travel in this wretched weather? Wouldn’t it have been better to stay at that fat prefect’s manor? At least we could’ve waited until winter had passed before setting out.”
Lu Liangsheng turned to glance at him, then swept a wide sleeve.
“Not cold anymore, are you?”
A surge of warmth rose from the Daoist’s feet, spreading through his entire body. The sensation was indescribably soothing.
“Why didn’t you bring out this technique earlier!?”
Sun Yingxian, now fully at ease, let his arms fall freely behind his head as he strode along in a leisurely gait, even whistling a few tunes.
“That old toad has the right idea—wherever he goes, he can just lie down and rest.”
The old donkey swayed lightly as it trudged forward, the wooden shelves creaking softly with each movement. Ever since the snowfall began, the Toad Daoist had grown sluggish, making himself a small bed in the cramped compartment, complete with cotton quilts and blankets.
Peering through the gaps in the wooden slats, one could see the Toad sprawled out under his bedding, his head resting on a soft pillow, snoring soundly. From time to time, he would lazily lift a webbed hand to scratch his face, or stretch a foot out from beneath the covers to test the cold air—only to swiftly retract it with a shiver, roll over, and drift back into deep sleep.
In this frigid, snow-covered world, travelers were a rare sight. Should anyone come across this scene, they would surely be astonished—a scholar, a Daoist, and an old donkey journeying through such weather as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
Having passed the borders of Heliang Prefecture, the road south led to Yuqing Prefecture. However, the two did not take that route. Instead, they followed the boundary between the two regions eastward, making their way back to the capital. Next month would mark the second lunar month—Lu Liangsheng was set to participate in the Ministry of Rites’ Spring Examinations.
As they moved southward, the snowfall gradually lightened. Villages and farmlands became more frequent along the way, and ahead lay a great river flowing steadily southward. This was the same river they had once passed near Wang Family Village, though now it was several hundred li away.
In the depths of winter, the river’s surface had long since frozen over, yet along the banks, two families were busy at work.
“Xiao Chu! Put more strength into it—the net is almost ready!”
An old man in a hat called out to a young man working on the ice—likely his son. Beside him, an elderly woman, her hands red from the cold, exhaled warm breath over them before continuing to untangle the fishing net.
Ding ding… ding ding dang dang…
A faint jingling of bells seemed to echo through the air. Startled, the old woman and the others turned toward the sound. Through the swirling snow, they saw a scholar leading an old donkey, approaching from the western village road. Beside him walked a Daoist with a wine gourd hanging from his waist. At first glance, this sight was nothing out of the ordinary. But as the travelers drew nearer, the old man narrowed his eyes in surprise—despite the heavy snowfall, neither the scholar, the Daoist, nor even the donkey had a single speck of snow on them.
The old man wanted to take a closer look, but his vision blurred, and in the next moment, the two men and a donkey were already near. The scholar walking in front cupped his hands in greeting.
“Esteemed elder, my companion and I are passing through this place. Our stomachs are empty, and we are parched. We were hoping to buy some food from your household to ease our hunger.”
Lu Liangsheng’s tone was humble and courteous, and he held some silver in his hand. The old man squinted hard at him. The scholar standing there was handsome, his temples neat and clean, his robe untainted by snow. Having lived to such an old age, how could he not recognize certain things?
Another villager saw the silver in the scholar’s hand and was about to speak when the old man reprimanded him.
“If we had food at home, would we still be out here by the river, cutting through ice to catch fish?”
After that, he rose to his feet and returned the scholar’s salute with a cupped-hand gesture.
“Young master scholar, and that Daoist over there, our entire village has been affected by the great drought in Heliang Prefecture. There’s barely anything to eat. You two might as well try your luck at the next village.”
Lu Liangsheng glanced at the other villagers, then smiled and nodded.
“Many thanks for your guidance, elder.”
With that, he led the old donkey in another direction.
The family on the riverbank watched as the scholar disappeared into the wind and snow. When the sound of the donkey’s bell had faded into the distance, they couldn’t help but grumble at the old man.
“He had already taken out money, yet you turned him away. It’s not like we don’t have food at home.”
The old man spat on the ground and continued helping his wife untangle the fishing net.
“Did you really take a good look at that scholar and the Daoist? In this heavy snow, not a single flake landed on them—not even a speck of mud. Whether they’re man or ghost, it’s best that we don’t get involved.”
“Rea… really that unbelievable?”
“Hmph, when a man lives long enough, he learns to see things clearly.”
At this moment, further south along the Flowing Gold River, the Daoist furiously kicked a stone, sending it flying into the river with a splash.
He turned back to the scholar leading the donkey.
“Even money didn’t work? Someone was clearly about to speak up! If it weren’t for that old fellow interfering…”
Lu Liangsheng looked at his exasperated companion, unsure whether to laugh or—well, just laugh.
“It was probably because that elder was standing close enough to notice that not a single snowflake landed on us. He grew suspicious and dared not interact with us. It seems that from now on, when using spells to travel, we should withdraw our powers before asking for directions and disguise ourselves as ordinary folk.”
They had walked a long way, and the surroundings were desolate, with barely a soul in sight. Sun Yingxian had just responded, “Fine, fine, we’ll do it your way—” when his gaze suddenly lit up with delight.
He abruptly changed his words, pointing toward the riverbank road ahead, where the faint outline of buildings could be seen through the wind and snow.
“Old Lu, looks like we’ve found food.”
When they were about fifty zhang away, the structures ahead became clearer. A single house stood there, with a canopy built outside, and even from a distance, a few tables and chairs could be seen arranged beneath it.
“Wait.”
Lu Liangsheng suddenly stopped and pulled back the eager Daoist.
“In such a remote place, why would there be an inn?”
The great river was frozen over, the reeds had withered beneath the snow, and while wild pheasants might have still come out to forage in the past, ever since the Heavenly Thunder Tribulation, Lu Liangsheng had become particularly sensitive to disturbances in his surroundings.
The Daoist beside him also furrowed his brows as he looked toward the building.
“It could be a black inn… but eating is more important. Should we go take a look?”
“Mm.”
They had long since run out of dry rations, and given the famine in Heliang Prefecture, there was little to be found anywhere. At this point, even if it was a black inn, Lu Liangsheng and his companion wouldn’t hesitate much—hunger was no trivial matter.
“Before we go, let’s wait a moment—just in case.”
From the corner of his eye, the Daoist saw Lu Liangsheng pull out his last two painting scrolls and spread them over the donkey’s back. The brush in his hand was brand new—a gift from the magistrate of Liyang City upon learning that he was a scholar—along with an inkstone and a brush holder.
Lu Liangsheng pressed his lips together, recalling certain images in his mind. With a flick of his wide sleeves, he dipped the brush into the ink and let dark green strokes fall onto the paper.
What he sketched was the outline of the tavern ahead…
