Azure mountains lay like ink beneath an idle patch of cloud.
On the dirt road through the mountains, the Daoist walked ahead, the horse behind.
The dirt road was only three to five feet wide, and often collapsed or broke away in places. It posed no problem for a person, but the Red Date Horse had to tread with extra care.
A swallow circled overhead.
The weather was pleasantly cool today.
Song You raised his head and looked at the sky. He could not make much of it, but sensing the changes in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and the turning of the seasons, he felt that the day would not remain sunny all the way through.
Still, sun or rain, it made little difference.
Song You continued onward at an unhurried pace.
Where did the road ahead lead?
To be honest, he did not know either.
He simply headed south.
Seeing a clump of thorn moss growing by the roadside, Song You casually snapped off several shoots as he passed. The spring bamboo-like sprouts were tender and crisp indeed; avoiding the thorns, he gave them a light bend, and they broke without any effort.
Thorn moss resembled roses and grew much the same way. The tender shoots that emerged in spring and autumn were edible.
About as thick as chopsticks, they could be snapped with a gentle bend. Peel away the outer skin, and within lay a jade-green, translucent tender stalk, looking rather like lettuce stem. In the mouth, it was wonderfully crisp, sweet with a lingering aftertaste, carrying an exceedingly faint fragrance of greenery. Snacks these days were like this—everywhere underfoot, all wild and natural. Whether they tasted good was a matter of personal preference, but finding them in the mountains and picking them yourself had