Seeking Immortals

Two months later, the autumn air was crisp and clear.

At dusk.

In the small village at the foot of the mountain, wisps of cooking smoke drifted lazily upward. Three or two children ran and wrestled through the village, while farmers by the roadside fields were still harvesting rice. Big Yellow Dog lay lazily outside a house, sniffing at the scent of food wafting from within as the setting sun shone on its back.

The sound of hoofbeats approached from afar, shattering the village's tranquility. Big Yellow Dog sprang up in alarm, arching its body as it warily watched the dust in the distance.

A black and a white steed came galloping in. Upon reaching the village entrance, both slowed their pace and lifted their heads toward the mountains not far away.

The evening glow fell over the mountains. Mist drifted faintly through the peaks, dyed a brilliant crimson by the light. Jagged, chaotic rocks rose against the horizon, and amid the swirling red clouds, they resembled some celestial realm that had flown down from the heavens.

At the foot of the mountain, a shepherd boy rode over on an ox, his flute song long and lingering, making this rural painting all the more peaceful.

"So this is the place they spoke of. It truly does seem to possess a touch of immortal charm." The youth on the white horse was fourteen or fifteen, with red lips and white teeth. His long black hair was meticulously tied into a warrior's knot with a silver ribbon, its loose end cascading down like black satin, lending her a free and dashing air. Her bright eyes watched the mountains, filled with anticipation.

The young man on the black horse looked four or five years older. Their features bore some resemblance, making it easy to assume they were siblings. The difference was that the young man's features were more sharply defined, making him seem far colder and more stern.

Long oilcloth bags hung from both horses, their openings revealing the icy glint of spearpoints.

Hearing the youth's words, the young man did not respond. He merely watched the shepherd boy in the distance in silence for a long while.

"What is it?" the youth turned and asked.

"Nothing." The young man came back to himself and smiled. "It is only that this melody is unlike anything I have ever heard—fresh and far-reaching, enough to open one's heart and refresh one's spirit."

The youth nodded in agreement. If the surroundings themselves had only carried five or six parts immortal charm, then with that lingering shepherd's flute added in, they abruptly possessed seven or eight parts.

She gave it no further thought and smiled. "There are countless fine melodies in this world, and we cannot possibly know them all. Could it be that Elder Brother has suddenly developed a fondness for music and sensual pleasures?"

The young man laughed despite himself and shook his head. The two slowly urged their horses into the village.

Rice Paddy lay beside the road. Farmers in the fields harvested rice, their sweat falling like rain. As the young man passed slowly by, however, his eyes remained fixed on the rice fields, and his expression grew increasingly grave.

The youth looked around for a while. Some rice in the fields had been cut, while some remained standing. At first glance, it was a disorderly mess with nothing worth seeing. Seeing her brother's solemn expression, she could not help asking curiously, "What are you looking at now...?"

"Look farther away. Look carefully."

The youth looked intently. As her gaze extended across the fields, she seemed to see the shortened patches of harvested rice forming the shape of a Taiji yin-yang fish. Though not perfectly standard, the shape truly was Taiji!

Was it an illusion?

Suppressing his astonishment, the young man reined in his horse and cupped his hands. "Sir..."

The farmer raised his head. Only then did he notice the obvious nobility of the pair, and his face bloomed like a chrysanthemum. "Are you two heading into the mountain to seek immortals? It is getting late. How about staying at my Household for the night? It is very cheap..."

"..." The image of a lofty master shattered in an instant. The young man's gaze shifted, but he still introduced himself politely. "I am Li Qinglin, and this is my younger sibling, Qing Jun... May I ask, sir, why the rice has been harvested into such a shape? Is there some profound method to it?"

"A method?" The farmer scratched his head in bafflement, smearing mud into his hair. "Little Qin taught me the shorthand numerals for six and nine. He said putting them together was called some kind of formula? I do not understand either. I was remembering how the numbers were written while cutting them into this shape..."

So that was it? The siblings exchanged a glance, then both breathed out in amused relief. Though they had never heard of this way of writing the numbers six and nine, it was still far easier to accept than a rural farmer creating a Taiji yin-yang fish in his field.

The farmer added, "My Household has the most comfortable lodgings—heated kang beds and hot milk, only three copper coins..."

"No need." The two smiled, reined in their horses, and left.

"Hey, hey, hey..." the farmer called after them. "Do not enter the mountain so late! There has been poisonous miasma in the mountains lately, and a strange tiger too. It is very dangerous!"

Li Qingjun patted her spear bag and turned back with a smile. "Only by advancing in the face of hardship can one show sincerity. How about we help you get rid of that fierce tiger?"

The farmer looked at their spears. After hesitating for a moment, he merely said, "Then be careful."

Near the end of the village, they had reached the mountain's foot. The misty air grew denser, and even the few courtyards at the village's end could no longer be seen clearly. Woodcutter came strolling over with a load balanced on his shoulder, as though passing through the clouds and mist, casually singing a ballad:

"Everyone knows immortals are good, yet only fame and rank they cannot forget. Where are the generals and ministers of old? A heap of barren graves, swallowed by grass.

Everyone knows immortals are good, yet only gold and silver they cannot forget. All day they resent having gathered too little, but when they have much, their eyes close..."

The siblings stared and listened blankly. Their horses' hooves slowed and slowed, until they finally came to a complete stop.

Ever since arriving in this place, everything had felt different from elsewhere. Even a mere woodcutter sang at such a level. No wonder people said this mountain housed immortals—there truly was some reason to it.

"May I ask, sir..." Li Qinglin stopped Woodcutter. "Who composed this song?"

Woodcutter smiled. "It is a song Qin Family Kid sings. Interesting, is it not?"

More than merely interesting! Where was this? This was Immortal Trace Mountain, where those seeking immortals had come in an unending stream through the generations. To hear such a song in a place like this carried even deeper meaning.

"May I ask where this Mr. Qin resides?"

Woodcutter casually pointed into the depths of the mist. "The last courtyard at the end of the village, the one drying medicinal herbs. You will recognize it once you get there."

The courtyard was indeed easy to recognize. Its small grounds were packed tightly with racks, and several layers of bamboo trays covered the racks, spread with all kinds of medicinal herbs. The faint fragrance of the herbs lingered in the air, pleasant and soothing.

A youth sat in the middle of the courtyard, holding a club as he pounded medicine in a stone mortar. He looked utterly at ease, as though unaware that visitors were approaching.

The two watched him from horseback for a while, and their initial mood of seeking an eminent master gradually faded. The youth was far too young, looking only sixteen or seventeen—not much older than Li Qingjun. There was simply no way to associate him with some lofty recluse. Moreover, by their martial eyes, this youth was only a martial cultivator, and his cultivation was even inferior to theirs.

Still, the youth was rather interesting. He wore coarse clothes and straw sandals, and was somewhat thin. His appearance was refined and quiet, unlike a rustic villager; he resembled a scholar instead. As he pounded medicine leisurely, he hummed an incomprehensible tune. The hollow kong kong of the pounding drifted through the quiet dusk, carrying a relaxing rhythm and cadence that naturally brought forth the idle, secluded feeling of the countryside.

Judging from this, his songs and numerals had most likely come from reading miscellaneous books, or perhaps from family learning? If it was family learning, though, the farmer and woodcutter had only called him "Little Qin" and "Qin Family Kid." His elders were likely no longer around.

What was amusing was that his "medicine pestle" was a Wolf Tooth Club. It looked thicker than his thigh, its savage wolf teeth gleaming under the sunset, creating an absurd contrast with his refined appearance.

Was that his weapon for martial cultivation?

"Hey!" After watching for a long time, Li Qingjun could not help laughing. "Can a Wolf Tooth Club pound medicine? Does its tip not have sharp teeth?"

The youth stopped, turned to glance at them, and paid particular attention to the spear bags on their horses. Rather than answering her question, he said, "It is inconvenient to enter the mountain at night. You two should be careful. There is a strange tiger at the summit. Do not approach it. If you accidentally provoke it, run immediately. It will not pursue you."

Li Qinglin asked, "Little brother, is your surname Qin?"

The youth answered casually, "Qin Yi."

Li Qinglin introduced himself and his sibling again, then continued, "My sibling and I have entered the mountain to seek immortals. We heard Woodcutter singing a song of profound meaning, and were told it was composed by Brother Qin?"

"Oh, I heard a wandering Daoist sing it in my early years. It has nothing to do with me."

"..." Li Qingjun had long felt that this youth, who was about her own age, could not possibly be some lofty master. Hearing this, she said, "Sorry to disturb you," and prepared to head up the mountain.

But Li Qinglin suddenly said, "Brother Qin, are you a physician? Do you have antidotes of various kinds? We would like to buy a few pills."

Li Qingjun looked at her brother strangely. They had already prepared everything thoroughly, so why were they suddenly buying medicine?

"Not various kinds. One pill cures all poisons." Qin Yi casually tossed over a cloth bag. "There are two pills inside. Ten taels of silver."

Li Qingjun caught the bag and looked at the two date-like pills within. She gave a scornful laugh. "What pill can cure a hundred poisons? What kind of pill is this?"

Her voice was crisp. That scornful laugh diluted much of the valiant air she carried as she stood ready with spear in hand, giving her instead a touch of charming innocence.

Qin Yi stared at her for a while, then suddenly grinned. "It is called the Eat Dates Pill."