Chapter 691: Another Resolution of Fateful Ties

Around dawn, the mist hung thick and damp.

The birds and beasts of the mountains did not have the best of memories, probably not much better than Lady Calico’s when she was a kitten, and as the eastern sky grew pale, the forest that had fallen silent for two days beneath the battle of gods finally began to stir again.

There was a faint rustling nearby, and most of the sounds were made cautiously.

Perhaps their memories weren’t so bad after all.

Now and then, a few animals passed by the Daoist. They were mostly small creatures, such as pheasants, wild hares, and sparrows that did not hibernate. There were also some larger ones, like wild dogs and mountain boars.

Some creatures passed by the Daoist without noticing him at all; others would happen to catch sight of him, startle, then either freeze in place to stare for a while at this figure seated cross-legged beneath the ancient tree, or simply return to their business, neither overly fearful of him, nor showing any inclination to attack.

Yet the Daoist faintly sensed that somewhere in the grass a little way off, a small creature had been watching him all along.

Perhaps it was simply one with an unusually strong sense of curiosity.

When the first light of dawn crested the mountains, filtering through the treetops to spill across the forest floor, that direction finally yielded the faintest rustling, so soft that had the Daoist not been listening closely, he would have missed it entirely.

The sound that reached his ears painted a picture in his mind’s eye: a small creature picking its way forward on tiptoe, choosing each step with care, never setting foot on the dry twigs and fallen leaves that would crackle underfoot, the hind paw landing precisely in the print of the forepaw, slipping warily between the gaps in the brambles until it emerged from the grass before him.

It was an especially beautiful calico cat.

Half its body peeked out from the grass, the other half still hidden. It tilted its head up, staring straight at the Daoist with a serious expression and glimmering eyes, as though pondering something.

When it drew closer and could see him more clearly, it seemed to confirm whatever it had been considering. Only then did it step fully out of the grass and approach him, stopping half a zhang away. Sitting primly, it kept its gaze fixed on him, its eyes especially bright and alive.

While it watched him, the Daoist also watched it. At first glance, he thought it was Lady Calico. On closer inspection, though it resembled her, the likeness was only seven or eight parts. Both were strikingly beautiful and lively, enough to invite confusion.

A look of recollection crossed the Daoist’s face. At last, he remembered where it had come from, and could not help but smile.

“So it’s you...” His voice was extremely weak.

“

Meow

?” The cat tilted its head at him, eyes locked on his face.

“I never thought you’d still be alive... and you hardly seem to have aged at all,” the Daoist said weakly, studying it. “Meeting you here... I suppose that’s fate.”

“...?” The cat tilted its head again, this time as though assessing him. Apparently having come to some conclusion, it made no sound, only turned around and disappeared into the forest.

Moments later, there was more rustling, this time from the left.

The cat had returned.

Now she held in her mouth a large, plump rat, so large and fat it was nearly half the size of the cat herself, with a tail half as long as she was.

The calico glanced up at the Daoist warily; seeing it was indeed the same person as before, she padded forward, set the rat down beside him, and pushed it toward him with a paw. She let out a “

meow

,” then backed away, putting some distance between them, and sat down without moving again.

“...” The Daoist was utterly helpless.

Who would have thought that, after nearly twenty years of refusing Lady Calico’s endless offerings of rats, here he was in some unfamiliar place without Lady Calico herself, still being fed by a wooden cat born because of her.

"Many thanks..." The Daoist said weakly, "But I do not eat rats."

"

Meow

?"

The cat tilted her head up at him, eyes wide in shock.

Song You felt even more helpless.

This cat could barely be considered an old acquaintance. It was the very one carved years ago outside Yidu City by the peerlessly skilled artisan, Kong Daizhao, in imitation of Lady Calico’s likeness. She bore seven or eight parts of Lady Calico’s beauty and liveliness, the rest being what Kong Daizhao had imbued her with. Logically speaking, Kong Daizhao had never known Lady Calico’s temperament, so her personality should have been entirely unrelated.

"

Meow...

"

The cat seemed at last to accept that he would not eat the rat. Her eyes flickered, and she slowly padded forward, picked the rat back up in her mouth, and slipped once more into the forest.

𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

The Daoist watched her leave without moving.

He glanced up at the sky, and it seemed like good weather. This place was probably not far from Yidu. At the very least, it should be within Yizhou’s borders.

West of Pingzhou was Yizhou. That fit well enough.

Just as he was thinking this...

Swish

. The cat emerged again from the right-hand thicket, this time with a mouthful of withered yellow grass. Once again she approached him, set it down, then backed away to a comfortable distance before sitting and staring straight at him.

Song You thought she had simply pulled some random wild grass from somewhere. But on closer inspection, though it was indeed wild grass, it was also a kind that people planted and ate: slender stems, leaves dried yellow, covered with many tiny pods smaller than peas. Since it was already winter, the entire stalk was dry and brittle; a touch made it rustle, and the leaves would crumble or the pods fall away at the slightest pressure. That must have been why the cat had been so careful bringing it over.

In Yizhou, this plant was called

cao

greens. In some places, it was called

yuanxiu

greens.

It even had a far more famous name, many people today believed that the “wei” mentioned in the

Book of Songs

referred to this very plant, a theory widely accepted in modern times.

"

Meow

?"

Seeing him unmoving for so long, the cat called out.

It sounded half like urging, half like inquiry.

"Many thanks..."

The Daoist Master, still weak, said again, and with effort picked up the wild greens. Fortunately, the pods were already completely dry and crisp. Just a gentle squeeze was enough to split them open, letting a neat row of tiny beans fall out.

The beans were very small, and once in the mouth required no chewing. Being completely dried, their taste was surely nothing pleasant, but they could be swallowed directly.

Only then did the cat lift her paw to lick it.

The Daoist ate several in succession before suddenly realizing something was amiss.

Though

cao greens

often grew in dense patches, it was still hard for a cat, using only mouth and paws, to pull up such a neat, intact bundle without damaging it, and this bundle clearly bore signs of having been carefully arranged. Even the roots didn’t look torn, but cut.

"Where did you get these greens?"

"

Meow

?" The cat paused mid-lick, looking puzzled.

Then she stood, stretched lazily, and without a word turned and slipped back into the forest.

The sun rose higher, and the light grew brighter. From the forest came sounds again, but this time, they were clearly footsteps. Dry twigs and fallen leaves cracked and crunched crisply underfoot.

The approaching steps were steady and even, carefully parting the grass and branches—seemingly belonging to a person.

"

Swish

!"

The cat bounded ahead, leaping over the undergrowth, hopping to a stop in front of the Daoist, then turned her head to look back.

"

Rustle

..."

A hand pushed aside the branches, and a human figure appeared before the Daoist.

You’re taking me somewhere?

"Someone’s there?" It was a man’s voice, which sounded vaguely familiar.

The Daoist furrowed his brow.

The man stepped through the parted branches, and when he saw the Daoist sitting cross-legged under the tree, he was clearly startled and instantly on guard. Even when he noticed the Daoist’s robe, he did not relax much.

It wasn’t until he got a good look at the Daoist’s face that he froze for a moment, a puzzled expression crossing his features.

They both found the other somewhat familiar.

"Are you... Mr. Song?" The man’s eyes widened, as if recalling something, and he asked, "Why are you here?"

"It’s a long story. It’s pure coincidence," the Daoist replied, also remembering who this person was, his name faintly coming to mind. "So you’ve been living in seclusion here, I see."

"What happened to you, sir?"

The man had caught the weakness in his voice, and couldn’t help glancing up at the sky. "Could it be... that the thunderclaps in the heavens the other day were connected to you? Were you using divine arts to subdue demons?"

"Something like that."

"Can you still walk?"

"I’ll need to rest for a bit."

"Would you like some water?"

"If you have some, that would be ideal."

"I’ll fetch it at once."

With that, the man turned and hurried away.

Only the cat remained, sitting in place. She glanced toward the direction the man had gone, then back at the Daoist Master, before lowering her head again to lick her paw.

This man was none other than Kong Daizhao’s former apprentice, named Dongyang. Like the cat before them, he had originally been carved from wood by Kong Daizhao. But because the craftsmanship had been so extraordinary, the spirit within so abundant, he had, through a subtle resonance with the great Heavenly Dao and earth, transformed and came to life.

Song You couldn’t help but look up at the sky again.

A faint sense of relief stirred in his heart. Two days earlier, during the great battle here, he had used the Four Seasons Bell to seal off a hundred li in every direction, isolating even the forests and mountains below.

His intention had been,

Even though I know this is barren wilderness with no human habitation for a hundred li, there are still countless birds and beasts, plants and trees, as well as spirits and specters. Everything has its own spirit, and it would be wrong to harm them.

He had never expected that, hidden within these mountains, there would be both an old feline acquaintance and an old human acquaintance.

Good deeds were indeed good, and kindness of heart was never wrong.

The Daoist smiled.

Before long, Dongyang returned carrying water and also brought some wild vegetable dumplings. He gave Song You water and food, waited with him for a while, and then helped him back to his own thatched hut.

The hut was built in the mountains, in a place of clear streams and scenic beauty. Behind it lay a grove of bamboo; on either side were plots of farmland, and in front was a pond. The layout bore some resemblance to Kong Daizhao’s old dwelling. A woven bamboo fence enclosed a sizable yard at the entrance, where chickens and ducks were kept.

Dongyang set out a bamboo chair for the Daoist to sit.

“A few years ago, we traveled to Yunzhou, passed through Yizhou again, and returned to Yidu. We even visited your and Kong Daizhao’s former home, but it was already empty. All we found was Kong Daizhao’s grave,” the Daoist said, having regained a bit of strength. He then asked, “Why did you come to live in seclusion in this remote mountain wilderness?”

“I am not an ordinary man by nature. Though I was aided by you, sir, and it’s not easy for others to see through my disguise, and though I no longer fear fire, after growing into adulthood I stopped aging altogether. Perhaps I was never suited to life among humans,” Dongyang replied. “So after my master passed away, I buried him, took my pack, left the village, and moved into these uninhabited mountains.”

“I see.”

The Daoist glanced around, but saw no sign of the cat.

“And that one...?”

“That cat was carved by my master as well. These days she’s half a neighbor of mine,” Dongyang said. “After she came to life and left back then, she never returned, until my master died. She seemed to sense it somehow and came back to the village once. Later, when I left the village for the mountains, I encountered her not far along the way. She seemed to guide me, leading me here between these surrounding peaks. I built my house, tilled the land, and settled here. She seems to live not far off, roaming freely. Occasionally she turns up, or I meet her while gathering wood or herbs in the hills. So we’re half neighbors.”

“Has the cat a name?”

“No. I’ve always wanted to give her one, so I could call her when we meet, or if I catch a fish from the pond and wish to treat her. My master once told me that a living creature transformed from wood ought to have a name, or it’s easier for it to turn back into wood,” Dongyang said with a shake of his head. “Unfortunately, I’ve a wooden head[1] myself and can’t think of one.”

“So there’s such a custom?”

“At least for people there is. I don’t know if it’s the same for cats.” Dongyang paused, then suddenly looked at the Daoist. “Since I’ve met you again, sir, why not let you give her a name?”

“How could I be qualified for that?”

“You’re too modest. People often ask Daoists to name things, and my master told me there’s likely no Daoist in the world with greater cultivation than you. If you aren’t qualified, who is?” Dongyang glanced up at the sky, recalling the terrifying scene overhead two days ago, and his respect deepened. “Besides, in these mountains, before we turn back into decaying wood, we might never meet another person apart from you.”

“In that case...”

The Daoist thought for a moment. “Today I met her again, and she brought me

cao greens

, also called

wei

greens. If I were to live here long-term, perhaps I would call her ‘Cai Wei.’”

“Cai Wei...” Dongyang repeated it several times, committing it to memory.

“You are both an old acquaintance and an honored guest, sir. I must treat you well. Shame there are no mushrooms this season...”

He muttered this as he left the hut, and soon there was a flurry of chickens and ducks outside.

A pot of chicken soup was prepared to entertain the Daoist.

Blessed with good fortune and heaven and earth’s protection, though grievously wounded, soul and body weary, and his magic exhausted, he recovered swiftly, at least enough that after drinking Dongyang’s chicken soup, the wounds inflicted by several ancient saints’ great divine arts were nearly invisible. While only the surface injuries had healed and he was far from full recovery, he regained the ability to walk.

“To meet you here is both joyful and wondrous. Yet I still have urgent matters to attend to, and cannot linger. I thank you for your hospitality and must take my leave.”

Song You leaned on a bamboo staff and bowed to him.

In his heart, he felt a faint sense of wonder. Meeting Dongyang and meeting the wooden cat, were they not, in their own way, a closing of the karmic ties from years past?

1. The term 木头 {“wooden head”) describes a person who is stiff, dull, slow-witted, or unresponsive. ☜