Listening to the surging river all the way, Meng Yuan arrived at the foot of the low mountain and saw ancient stone steps winding upward.
An old Daoist of seventy or eighty stood there with a middle-aged Daoist in his forties. The former held a whisk, the latter a jade bottle, and they waited respectfully at the foot of the steps.
Meng Yuan saw clearly that this old Daoist was the very man who had told his fortune!
Back then, the old Daoist had been swindling passersby near the Drunken Moon Pavilion. He had caught hold of Meng Yuan, who had no choice but to ask whether his search for Sister Hua would go smoothly. The old Daoist had muddled through with a few vague words, and Meng Yuan had ended up losing a tin of tea.
Meng Yuan remembered the old Daoist lamenting at the time, saying some distinguished guest was coming to visit, yet he had no money to receive them, so he could only put aside his old face and come out to earn some humiliating silver.
Now it seemed that distinguished guest was actually the Princess Consort.
And though the old Daoist knew a personage as lofty as the Princess Consort, he still lived contentedly in poverty and had not asked her for incense money. Clearly, he was somewhat different from ordinary men.
Nie Yannian helped Meng Yuan dismount. There was not even a Daoist boy to take their reins; the place was truly shabby.
"Old Immortal Master!" Nie Yannian said with a smile, cupping his hands. He and Meng Yuan stood on either side of the steps, quietly awaiting the carriage behind them.
Meng Yuan stared at the old Daoist. The old Daoist, however, was exceedingly genial, smiling as he stared at Dugu Kang.
When