"Sir, I hear rumors that this Fog Ghost on this road isn't easy to deal with!" Merchant surnamed Li said, still visibly shaken. "It's been running amok here for more than a few months. Earlier, the Nanhua County yamen invited an expert from the temple, but even they couldn't settle this matter. After this heavy rain, the mountain mist rose up, which happened to make things convenient for the Fog Ghost..."
"Indeed, and the roads are slippery when dark..."
"How about the sir waits until dawn tomorrow, then finds another clear day to look for it?"
"If the sir goes, Chen is willing to go along!"
Everyone chimed in with a word or two, most of them wanting to persuade Song You not to go.
Among them was a sense of concern, and perhaps also the desire not to have Song You leave easily, but even the latter was only human nature. Yet there were too many words, and for a moment Song You did not know which one to answer. Staring at the campfire and continuing to watch for a few seconds, he still decided not to reply to them one by one, and only said to the escort surnamed Chen:
"The chief escort ought to stay here."
In this way, he also expressed his attitude.
This escort surnamed Chen was a principled man, possessing both integrity and courage. Such a man, regardless of his skill, was worthy of a bit of respect.
However, after these words, Song You was unwilling to speak any more.
Before long, the drizzle had stopped.
Song You stood straight up, pulled a piece of firewood from the campfire, and under the gaze of the merchants and escorts, walked alone into the dense fog.
At this moment the dark night was lonely, the cold rain had just stopped, human figures flickered in the fog, the cold wind blew chillingly, and even the wild grass was on guard. The only one fearless of advancing ahead was that single figure.
For a moment, everyone felt a mix of admiration and worry, but they had no other way either, so they could only shrink beside the campfire, staring anxiously into the depths of the dense fog, not knowing whether they were hoping that young mister would return or fearing that the Fog Ghost would manifest in the fog once again.
Before long, firelight burst forth in the fog.
Immediately, there came the howling of a ghost, sounding like a piercing cry or a fierce roar, making one's scalp tingle.
"Hiss!"
A layer of goosebumps rose on the merchants' arms, the hairs on the bumps standing on end one by one, and the concern in their hearts for that young mister increased a bit more.
Yet no one dared to go investigate.
Even the escort surnamed Chen, who had the courage, could not easily leave the others behind and plunge into the fog.
Soon, the sound stopped abruptly.
After an unknown amount of time, there was movement close by once again.
Everyone craned their necks, watching the fog without blinking, their hearts leaping into their throats.
They saw that the fog before them was so thick it could not be dissolved, resembling an early morning in the winter mountains. Suddenly, a gust of mountain wind blew, and the mountain mist drifted along with it. Under the reflection of the firelight, those tiny particles were seemingly visible. In this hazy, dreamlike scene, a figure with even footsteps gradually walked out from the fog.
The young man was youthful and handsome, wearing a plain Daoist robe. His expression was calm as ever, as if he had just done something utterly insignificant.
Not until he entered the pavilion and sat down before the campfire again did he speak another sentence:
"The night is still long, everyone rest early."
Everyone looked at each other. Led by the merchant surnamed Li, the rest stood up one after another, uniformly bowing deeply.
The flames crackled and popped, and that young mister had already closed his eyes.
For a moment the merchants could not sleep, and amidst exchanging glances, the scene from just moments ago echoed in their minds—the young mister returning through the dense fog, his figure gradually turning from blurred to clear, as if carrying hope. Probably some people would never forget this scene for the rest of their lives.
This night was neither long nor short.
The mountain wind carried the mist, and the chill was bothersome. From the beginning of the night to the end they woke up several times. Clearly they had not slept well, yet they still could not sleep. Song You woke up just as day was breaking, and the rest of the merchants, without a single exception, had not slept soundly either, with quite a few remaining sleepless all night.
The morning dew was heavy, the air moist, and one could smell the scent of soil and vegetation, just as suitable for cultivation as dusk.
Although Song You was awake, he continued to sit with his eyes closed in meditation.
His ears could catch the sounds around him.
The dew weighed down the waist of the wild grass, then slid down along the curved arc and dripped, shattering against the bluestone slabs. Squirrels were active on the ancient cypress trees, and birds in the forest had also risen early.
The escort surnamed Chen was whispering to the merchant surnamed Li that his junior martial brother was an expert at escorting caravans, possessed high martial arts, and dared to fight and kill, but it was his first time seeing a ghost or monster, so his heart had failed him for a moment and caused him to perform poorly; he hoped the merchant surnamed Li would not mind.
Then he heard the merchant surnamed Li whispering among the other merchants, discussing pooling money to thank Song You, yet hesitating over how much money to give, wanting to be generous while also wanting to be thrifty.
Muddy flowers, grassy dew, worldly affairs, and human hearts—all of these were cultivation.
When he opened his eyes once more, the merchants had already rekindled the campfire, boiled water in a small pot, and respectfully brought a bowl over to Song You.
Song You did not decline.
In the past, when he descended from the Daoist temple to solve problems for nearby villagers, the villagers were just as respectful, and many years ago he had understood a truth—
Sometimes accepting someone's kindness is actually a manifestation of magnanimity, let alone gratitude.
"Hoo..."
The mountain morning was cold and crisp. Blowing a breath toward the bowl, a layer of white mist immediately rippled out along the rim of the bowl. The flatbreads were extremely dry and naturally needed water to wash them down. After lodging in the mountains for the night, having a bowl of hot water was indeed a comfortable thing.
A single sip brought warmth from the throat all the way to the chest and lungs.
Merchants were talkative. Chatting a few sentences while eating breakfast, Song You also gained a bit more understanding of them.
He had previously known they were tea merchants from Yizhou, and also knew that Yizhou was an important node for the tea-horse trade. Now he learned from their mouths that in recent years, although the imperial court's guiding price for purchasing tea across various regions had not changed, down to the local level it grew lower year by year. Thus, quite a few tea merchants were driven to desperation; some chose to transport their tea to Yi Capital to sell to the Tea-Horse Bureau, while others took the risk of selling it in Yi Capital to traders who specifically collected tea for the western countries.
As for which category they belonged to, they did not say, and Song You did not ask.
This group of merchants also wanted to invite Song You to travel with them to Yi Capital, likely wanting to repay the life-saving grace of the previous night. Yet Song You's travels had always followed his own whims—he stopped wherever he wanted to stop, and left whenever he wanted to leave. If he had to team up and travel with them, it would be both a burden to them and a burden to himself, so he refused very directly, only telling them to be careful all the way and not to spend the night in the desolate mountains and wilderness again.
After finishing the water and the dry rations, the time for parting arrived.
Interestingly, after eating, the escort surnamed Chen even took his junior martial brother into the forest to rummage for some less damp firewood, chopped it into sections, and placed them in the corner of the pavilion, which could be considered making up for the amount burned last night. Perhaps after airing for a couple of days, it would dry out.
Song You watched from the side, lost in thought.
Then the merchant surnamed Li took out a small money pouch and respectfully handed it before him, calling it a token of gratitude.
Rather than calling it respect, it was more like proper etiquette.
In this era spirits and ghosts were not uncommon, and among the common people there were many who captured spirits and drove away ghosts. Some temples also undertook this sort of business, and it was not a rare trade, so paying money became the most normal thing in the world.
Those who are poised do not sweat the small details.
Seeing Song You accept the money pouch and tuck it into his bosom, the merchant surnamed Li and the crowd behind him finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Our Wu Shan Tea Merchant has a shop in Yi Capital, right in the West City. Just ask for the Wu Shan Tea Shop. If the sir reaches Yi Capital and has any use for us, whether you want to find a guide or handle some business, please feel free to come find us."
"Farewell."
Song You's tone was gentle yet aloof.
"Farewell, sir."
"Farewell, sir..."
The merchants loaded their cargo and hurried away.
Having walked a little less yesterday, they had to make up for it today.
For a time the pavilion was left with only Song You once again.
At this moment the sun finally came out, instantly illuminating the blue of the edge of the sky. The light slanted down from beneath the clouds, seemingly possessing a shape, strand by strand. At first it struck his face without warmth, but quickly grew cozy.
It seemed like it was going to be a good day again.
"Yi Capital..."
Song You raised his head to gaze at the sky, murmuring softly to himself. Then he hoisted his pack onto his back and continued on his way.
With no worries of a thousand-mile road, the fitting wind arrives of itself.
He saw that every ancient cypress along the road looked as if it had been washed in water, with water droplets suspended on the branches, crystal-clear, dripping down from time to time. There was still morning mist this morning; viewed from afar, patches of it accumulated quietly in the mountain concavities, and viewed closely, it blurred the Cuiyun Corridor, causing the ancient path to stretch endlessly out of sight, yet all gradually dissipating under the morning light.
This stretch of road would no longer be plagued by the Fog Ghost.
Before you continue