Chapter 720: Extra Chapter 7 (II)

The bespectacled elder shook his head as he ate from the dish of lamb. “From our research and discussion, we’ve reached a preliminary conclusion: what the

Mingde Great Encyclopedia

recorded was true. What was false was the statement made by that Daoist master in front of all those covetous rogues. In truth, the painting remained with the Dou family.”

“Then the Daoist did that in order to...”

“To divert the eyes of the martial world, protecting the Dou family and their painting. He himself had no desire for the so-called ‘Greatest Painting of the Ages.’“

“...”

The group exchanged looks.

“A man of great virtue...”

“How I’d love to see it.”

“Yes...”

Lady Calico listened in silence, expressionless.

Perhaps because she had such stories to accompany her meal, she finished the entire clay pot of congee, polished off half a braised chicken—bones and all—and cleared the lamb flatbread long before the end of the discussion. Only the plate of cherry flatbread remained, nearly untouched, save for one piece with a neat bite mark, placed back on the dish.

The girl slipped her hand into the brocade pouch, drew out a plastic bag, and swept the cherry flatbread, bite-marked one included, into it, intending to freeze them and take them back to feed the Daoist. She rinsed her private little porcelain bowl with some water, then stood to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that from the table where the group had been talking, one of the elders glanced casually her way. Or rather, his eyes fell upon the bowl in her hand.

With just that one glance, he could no longer look away.

“This...”

The old man froze, his gaze locked on the bowl Lady Calico held, his brows furrowing tightly.

Years of handling antiques and cultural relics had trained the old man’s eye to recognize authenticity at a glance. Especially in his favorite fields, the sheen and hues of genuine pieces were etched deeply in his memory.

“Miss, that bowl of yours...”

The elder reached out, about to ask Lady Calico where the bowl had come from. But Lady Calico didn’t listen at all, didn’t even spare him a glance. She simply slipped the bowl into her brocade pouch and walked straight out the door.

The old man’s frown deepened, though in the end he assumed he had been mistaken.

Exquisite Chengyao blue-and-white porcelain from the Great Yan dynasty was unimaginably rare, and only a dozen or so pieces existed in the entire world, each worth a fortune. How could one just happen to appear on the roadside like this? And even if it did, it was hardly likely that a young girl would casually use such a priceless treasure as a rice bowl.

Even though, originally, it

was

a bowl.

***

Lady Calico: I’ll be back in a few days

Lady Calico: I met a little rascal, and I made an appointment with him and his mother to show me around Changjing

Lady Calico: I packed some cherry flatbread for you. I tried one, it’s really delicious

After sending the messages, she put down her phone.

The girl, brocade pouch slung at her side, stood waiting at the edge of the street. Before long, a car pulled up.

Even before it stopped, the rear window slid down, revealing a fair, adorable face with eyes dark and clear as the night sky, alight with excitement and joy.

“Miss Calico!”

The car came to a halt before her, and a child and his mother stepped out together.

The child had clearly been dressed up carefully by his mother, clothed head to toe in new attire, looking every bit a young master from a well-off family. His mother wore a dark mamianqun[1] paired with a white long-sleeved blouse, which was once a blend of classical and modern, like the clothing of centuries past adapted to today’s lifestyle. It was the kind of style much favored in recent years.

Lady Calico remained reserved, merely nodding to count as her greeting to the little rascal.

“Have you been waiting long?” the child’s mother asked.

“Not at all. I had a meal and wandered a bit,” the girl replied calmly, tilting her head back to gaze into the distance.

They were now in Changjing’s Old City District, where traditional-style shops and courtyards abounded. The ground was paved with stone tiles, with few vehicles permitted, though the streets bustled with pedestrians. If one ignored the modern-dressed crowd and the contemporary details added to the architecture, it still retained some of its ancient charm.

“This area is right next to Willow Street. Most people who visit Changjing come here for a stroll. The old alleys have been preserved, and there are lots of snacks and folk traditions to see, it’s quite interesting,” the child’s mother said with a smile. “We live not far from here, so we know the area well. Let us show you around.”

Then, after a pause, she added, “If there’s still time afterward, we can go to the Forbidden City. Many visitors choose to go in the morning so they can watch the flag-raising, but the sun gets scorching at this time of year. Personally, I think the Forbidden City is best in the late afternoon. Near sunset, bathed in golden light, it has a special charm. And in the evening, when it’s cool, you can even ride bikes outside the palace walls, it’s an experience of its own.”

“All right,” the girl answered evenly.

Then she stepped forward to begin the outing.

The Old City District brimmed with antique charm, though compared to centuries ago it was far cleaner. On one hand, this was thanks to paved roads and urban sanitation; on the other, it was because the once-chaotic, highly individualized shop signs were gone. Still, walking through it had a way of calming the heart.

The road was neither long nor short. The girl, of course, did not mind the distance.

In the old days, whether carrying a pouch or transformed into a small cat padding along in tiny steps, she would often follow the Daoist all the way from the western city to the eastern city.

Then, with a casual turn of the corner, a familiar scene unfolded before her eyes.

Willows swayed, all in lush green. The stone tiles beneath were cracked, weathered by countless storms. The two-story houses along the street stood ancient and worn, without a single modern shop sign, all shuttered tight, doors and windows rotting. At a glance, it could have been dawn, hundreds of years ago.

“Although Willow Street is famous and lively, the real, original Willow Street has been sealed off.

“They say the buildings here were all built before the Great Yan dynasty. Even during the Prince Shun rebellion in the late Great Yan period, when soldiers marched into the capital killing and burning, this place was untouched.

“And what’s stranger, later, in the Yu dynasty, there was a massive fire in Changjing that swept through nearly the entire western city. Yet somehow this street alone was spared. The officials of the day even went to the temple to burn incense and ask the City God about it. For reasons unknown, they ended up leaving it abandoned. By now it’s been declared cultural heritage and is under protection.

“Or so I’ve heard.”

“...”

The mother held her child’s hand as she spoke while walking.

The girl they had met in Langzhou, however, stopped in front of an old building and looked ahead.

It was just an ordinary decayed wooden door, its color steeped in age and history, the scent of old timber almost palpable. An ancient bronze lock clung to it, rusted beyond recognition. Modern railings kept visitors from approaching too close.

The girl stood there, lost in thought for quite some time.

“It’s getting late. Let’s go to the Forbidden City.”

“All right...”

The group got back into the car and headed for the palace.

They entered through ticketed gates as usual. Having lived through the later Chen clan Yu dynasty and now into the present era, the palace had changed considerably since the first time she saw it, yet those changes didn’t feel unfamiliar to her.

For one, none of them were drastic. Over the years, emperors altered and restored the place in turn; one ruler might change a hall, only for the next to revert it. For another, she had returned a few times over the centuries.

Sometimes she came as a small cat, padding across the vast palace square alone at dusk, when the sky was dreamlike, aglow with crimson clouds and purple qi. She would watch guards patrol in formation, hear the schemes and whispers of maids and eunuchs, or be chased and shooed away. She was searching for the feeling of that very first time she walked these palace grounds. Sometimes she arrived riding a crane, gazing down on the palace lights from above. Sometimes she strolled outside the dimly lit halls, shadows flickering as whispers carried from within. And sometimes she wandered the palace walls, a cat amusing herself in boredom.

The last time she had come must have been more than a hundred years ago. It was the first time she had returned in this way.

By now, the palace had long been ownerless.

“This is the Changle Palace. I heard that ever since the Great Yan dynasty, every emperor liked to host Daoists here, talking about immortality. But after all these years, not a single one attained it.”

Lady Calico couldn’t help turning her head to glance at her. She knew the woman must have picked that up from television.

“We really ought to hire a guide,” the child’s mother went on. “A guide could explain the palace's history in detail. Even if you don’t learn much, it’s still interesting to hear. Usually there are plenty of guides soliciting tourists here, but it must be too late today, as there isn’t a single one.”

As she spoke, she cast a look at her son. Clearly, it was for his sake that she wanted this outing to be more meaningful.

The girl lifted her gaze toward the distance. After a moment, she lowered her head again, looked at them, and spoke, “No need to hire a guide. Whatever you want to know, I can tell you...”

The Great Yan was the most powerful dynasty to arise in this land’s feudal age. Even the later Yu dynasty never truly surpassed it. Under Emperor Mingzong, Great Yan reached its peak of prosperity and also began its decline. That emperor became one of the most famous rulers in history. Yet he was never called “the greatest emperor throughout the ages.” Instead, he left countless inspirations and fragments for later imagination and stories.

That era, its stories, its emperors, generals, and grand masters, and the figures who came after, were names that still echoed in the tales retold today. She herself had experienced that piece of history.

Strolling through the palace in the late afternoon, with the crowds thinning, the girl spoke to the child beside her of storms of history, anecdotes within the palace, legends of the capital, and the long-vanished “Ten Wonders of Changjing.” Only then did she suddenly realize: those people she had once met, almost every one of them, was the central figure of their lives, the key actor in some legendary tale. While she and the Daoist priest were only passersby, moving ever farther away.

The sun dipped west, the sky blazing red.

The child and his mother had already gone home. Left behind, the Forbidden City was closed to visitors, empty and vast. A calico cat padded slowly across the wide palace square. Her tiny shadow stretched long. Suddenly, she sprang lightly upward, landing atop a massive stone lion’s head, pausing there to lift her gaze toward the horizon.

The glazed roof tiles glimmered faintly with the last rays of sunset. Everywhere else lay in shadow, dark and silent. There were no lights, no residents, not even ghosts. The majesty of a palace that had housed dynasties was nowhere to be seen, left with only solitude, desolation, and loss, as though abandoned by time itself.

The calico cat’s face grew solemn. She watched for a long while before stepping forward, leaping down with ease. Then, swaying gently, she departed.

Not long after...

Willow Street, by contrast, was still brightly lit.

A passerby on the main road happened to glance upward and saw that on this sealed-off heritage street, a window had somehow opened. It was on the second floor of a building near the middle, its wooden shutters pushed outward. From within shone a faint glow, like a candle, or perhaps a lantern.

The door below had not been touched. There seemed to be no one inside. Only a strikingly beautiful calico cat sat on the windowsill, gazing down at the people below.

Countless pedestrians lifted their heads and met its eyes. But who could know what a cat was thinking? All they felt was that it seemed the master of the place.

By the time the site’s staff arrived, the light upstairs was already extinguished, the shutters closed, the rusted bronze lock still hanging firmly on the door, the building showing no sign of disturbance. Only a new scratch had appeared on the second-floor boards high up, nearly the height of an adult.

The cat was, of course, long gone.

1. The Mamianqun is a type of qún (裙; 'skirt') a traditional Chinese skirt worn by the Han Chinese women as a lower garment item in Hanfu and is one of the main representative styles of ancient Chinese-style skirts. It originated in the Song and Liao dynasties and became popular due to its functionality and its aesthetics style. It continued to be worn in the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties where it was a typical style of skirt for women and was favoured for its unique aesthetic style and functionality.

Here’s a

reference

image. Fun fact, I wore a

mamianqun

to my Chinese friend’s gatecrashing ceremony during her wedding! ☜