A few cumulus clouds floated across the azure sky, the sun scorched people's scalps until they tingled, and the cicadas sounded much hoarser than they had in early summer.
Cuiyun Corridor was just ahead.
Song You paced forward and looked up.
A narrow lane that only allowed one person to pass wound along, with fields on one side and dirt on the other, leading to an imperial highway canopied by thousand-year-old cypress trees.
The cypresses were ancient and the road was ancient; they would not become history only after many years, for even in this era they already possessed a thousand years of age.
This road was named Jinyang Road, constructed during the Yu Dynasty to open up the route from Yizhou to the Guanzhong Plain. The ancients had the habit of planting trees alongside roads to mark the direction of great thoroughfares for travelers, who upon seeing trees on both sides would not take a wrong turn. It was also beginning from the Yu Dynasty that officials planted cypresses on both sides of Jinyang Road, reaching a scale of hundreds of thousands of trees at its peak, which seen from afar resembled a long corridor draped in emerald clouds.
Hence it was also called Cuiyun Corridor.
Walking a few more steps until he reached the front of Cuiyun Corridor, he could see it more clearly.
It was the turn of summer and autumn, and the ancient cypresses presented a distinctive grayish-cyan color. For a thousand years no one had pruned them, and their branches grew freely in wild, intertwined disarray; their lush leaves allowed even the sunlight to filter through only with difficulty, casting mottled patches of light and shadow, a flickering contrast of bright and dark.
Below was a road paved with flagstones, uneven and with each stone seeming to differ in height; nor were they laid tightly together, frequently leaving gaps and potholes.
Song You halted his steps and looked back.
After walking for half a day, that familiar mountain and familiar Taoist temple were long out of sight.
Song You still gazed steadily, his expression serene.
Having conversed with his master yesterday, this morning he had packed his luggage, bid farewell to his master and the old myna in the temple, and traveled light. Walking forty li in half a day, he had finally arrived before this renowned grand thoroughfare.
Yet where should he go now?
His master had not told him, and he did not know either.
After a long while, Song You finally withdrew his gaze.
He would simply continue forward.
Without taking many steps, he stepped onto Cuiyun Corridor, the tactile sensation underfoot rapidly turning firm, and the scorching sun was also largely blocked out.
Song You did not look back again, walking forward with firmness and steadiness while constantly paying attention to the scenery along the road.
In this era, the function of this road was no less than that of a modern highway; it connected Yizhou and the Guanzhong Plain and even featured horse-blocking walls akin to the guardrails of modern expressways, save that ceaseless millennia of wind and frost made them appear somewhat dilapidated.
Even so, it remained a vital transportation artery of this era.
Song You carefully sensed this ancient road, experiencing the authentic scenes upon Cuiyun Corridor in this era.
At times mule bells jingled as caravans passed him by, light and shadow interweaving beneath the cypresses as both parties sized each other up. At times the sound of hoofbeats was heard drawing near from afar, carrying a rhythmic quality unique to this era as government couriers whipped their horses and galloped past.
Occasionally he would also encounter porters.
These were the only ones Song You could catch up to and surpass.
The porters of Yizhou were often diminutive in stature and skin-and-bones, pitch-black all over, carrying heavy loads that a stalwart man would find difficult to bear. Leaning on bamboo staves, they lowered their heads and marched silently forward—already exhausting all their physical strength, how could they have any spare energy to mind matters beside them?
Fortunately, there was the shade of the ancient cypresses.
And no one dared to fell these ancient cypresses.
Beginning from the previous dynasty, the imperial court had enacted official legislation to protect the ancient cypresses, forbidding soldiers and civilians alike from cutting them down; when prefectural magistrates left office, they were required to take inventory of and hand over the ancient cypresses to their successors.
It was rumored that deep within these perilous mountains, along this Cuiyun Corridor built by the Yu Dynasty, among the verdant ancient cypresses, there were often those that had grown so old they had turned into spirits, and travelers walking by night had even heard the ancient trees beside them speaking.
And indeed--
These trees had stood here sheltering travelers from shade and rain for over twelve hundred years; how many people had walked past them? It was only natural that they might have learned to speak simply from listening so much.
Song You truly wished to hear them speak to him.
Pity that he did not.
This journey of solitary travel was destined to be a silent one.
Having traveled thus for an unknown length of time, he counted four earthen mounds by the roadside, calculating that he had walked another twenty li. Seeking out the sun through the gaps in the cypress foliage, he saw that it had slanted noticeably toward the west.
Song You grew somewhat fatigued.
Seeing an ancient cypress ahead—so broad it would take several people to encircle—whose trunk possessed an arc just right for leaning against, with clean ground beneath the tree, he figured people must often rest here.
Song You was not fussy; he walked over and sat down.
He ate a flatbread and drank some water.
At first his mind was still occupied with various matters, and as people continuously passed him by, he looked up to meet face after face from this era, always feeling a sense of wondrous encounter. When drowsiness overtook him, Song You lacked even the slightest inclination to fight it; cradling his bundle and closing his eyes, he fell deeply asleep.
The sound of cicadas did not disturb; it merely coaxed one to sleep.
During his midday rest, the sun slanted westward, and before his eyes there was now tree shade, now light, which he could perceive even with his eyes closed. Such interweaving repeated for an untold number of degrees.
Waking in a daze, he actually saw a flock of tiny people leaping about among the branches, frogging and playing ceaselessly.
Each little person was only the height of a palm, slender and pretty, wearing multicolored garments. There were both males and females, playing free of care. Yet when he reached out to rub his eyes and look closely, he belatedly realized they were merely three or five hill mynas.
"Heh..."
Song You finally revealed a smile, gradually growing fully awake.
Looking up at the sky again, he saw that a few cumulus clouds originally in the sky had gathered together at some unknown point, forming a large mass of towering cumulus clouds so thick they blocked the heavenly light, casting a pitch-black shadow at their base.
Their direction was directly ahead on the road.
Rain was likely to follow next--
Most cumulus clouds did not bring rain or snow, frequently appearing instead in clear weather as a symbol of good weather; yet once they transformed into towering cumulus clouds, they could bring short-lived heavy downpours, and depending on temperature and airflow changes, might even develop into more ferocious cumulonimbus clouds.
Song You was unconcerned; he took up his bundle and set off once more.
Since he had set out to travel, whether it was clear or rainy was an experience, and whether good or bad it was a trial.
Sure enough, after walking only a few li, the base of the towering cumulus clouds ahead had grown increasingly dark. When Song You stood still and looked up, he saw rain pouring down instantly connecting heaven and earth.
The clouds were still drifting toward this side.
Song You hesitated slightly and chose to retrace his steps.
One li behind him stood a pair of pavilions, set on the left and right sides. Though constructed in some forgotten dynasty and now dilapidated, while they could not stop the wind, they were barely adequate for keeping off the rain.
When he reached the pavilions, the rain arrived as well.
According to the road signs seen earlier along the road, this pavilion had originally been a place where someone sold tea, but Song You saw neither tea vendor nor people—only a pile of dry firewood stacked inside the pavilion and traces of a burned fire on the ground. For the moment, he was the only person who had come here to escape the rain.
Unflurried, Song You selected the pavilion with the better roof and sat down on the spot to watch the rain.
When the rain first arrived it was still somewhat gentle, bursting only into individual splashes of water upon the dry ground where droplets wrapped themselves into the dust; unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye it grew heavy, and for a time the sound of rain piercing through forests and striking leaves filled his ears. Dense water splashes bloomed upon the flagstones, soaking them completely, and the earth was thoroughly dampened as well.
The heavy scent of dust rushed virtually into his face.
This realm slowly grew humid, all colors in the mountains became much cleaner, the cicadas ceased their calls, and only the sound of rain remained upon the mountain road.
Pattering and crackling, it set one's mind at ease.
After about an hour, the sky grew increasingly late, yet the rain showed no intention of stopping whatsoever. Judging by this appearance, it was hard to tell how much longer it would fall. His midday rest had already wasted a good deal of time, and thus even if the rain stopped now, he feared he would not reach the next stop.
Thinking thus, Song You detached himself from the state of watching and listening to the rain, turning his head to look at the half-stack of dry firewood and the fire-burned marks on the ground in the corner.
Wanderers of the jianghu must have spent the night here.
It was two days before the start of autumn, and the weather was not cold; even if it was somewhat chilly in the mountains, spending the night here was entirely feasible.
With his mind at peace, Song You simply closed his eyes.
Heavy rains fall, and all things thrive.
The spiritual Qi in the mountains also grew somewhat denser.
It was not until nightfall that the rain grew lighter.
Song You got up, gathered some dry firewood, placed it in a pile, and took a wooden branch in his hand.
"Wind Stops, Fire Rises."
The wind that swept through the pavilion paused briefly for a moment.
Immediately following came a soft snap--
"Fwump!"
A handful of tangerine-red flames ignited on the wooden branch in his hand, looking no different from mortal fire. Song You treated it simply as mortal fire, lowering the wooden branch to thrust it into the dry firewood, holding it motionless for a moment before slowly igniting the dry pile.
"Whoosh..."
The wind began to blow again, the rain drifted in at an angle, and the edges of the pavilion had long since been soaked through.
The bonfire crackled as it burned, transmitting warmth to Song You. His body felt warm all over and his face somewhat hot, while he merely continued sitting cross-legged in motionless meditation, staring abstractedly at the blazing bonfire as if it concealed something exceedingly wondrous within.
Sometimes he would ponder his travel plans for the future.
Yet he was destined not to figure them out.
Ever since coming into this world, he had remained in the Taoist temple, growing up dependently with his master. The times he had left were numerous, yet the places he had walked were limited. Moreover, his own longing and interest in this world were scant to begin with; his understanding was insufficient and his motivation inadequate, making it naturally difficult to formulate detailed plans.
Sometimes he would reflect upon the past.
Certain scenes welled up from his mind beyond his control.
Yet most of the time he thought of nothing at all, simply watching the bonfire burn and feeling the transmitted warmth. His mind gradually emptied, and a sense of security and comfort deeply buried within his genes made his heart grow increasingly serene.
The rain grew lighter and the sound of the rain diminished; the mountains grew quiet for a time, leaving the most prominent sound as that of the bonfire burning before him.
A night of chaotic mountains and lingering rain, a solitary fire and a traveler in a strange land.
Thinking of how far and how long he was destined to travel alone in the future, and how many such nights there might be, a sense of desolation arose within his heart.
It was hard to bear just thinking about it.
After an unknown length of time, the faint sound of hoofbeats thudded.
Song You shifted his gaze away from the bonfire and turned his head to look in the direction from which he had come. In the night, a troop of merchants was advancing amidst the rain.
The pack animals were primarily horses and mules, laden with extremely large bundles of goods that, judging by their packaging, should have been tea. There were a dozen or so people, accompanied by two armed escorts, which suggested this party likely came from a relatively remote place; this stretch of the official horse highway was still relatively safe.
Before the people even arrived, their voices were heard first.
"We can't make it much further. We should have passed that stretch by now; there's a pavilion up ahead, let's make do for the night here."
"I'm afraid we have to walk a bit more!"
"There's no place to shelter from the rain ahead."
"There's someone up ahead!"
"They're making a fire..."
Song You remained seated, watching that group of people draw near.
New author, new book, I'm a student—please take good care of me, everyone!
Before you continue