Old Friends, Chicken and Millet

"Flap flap flap..."

Swallow flew back, and the short sword flew back with him. Without a word, he simply stood atop the bamboo tip, preening his feathers.

The Daoist still sat waiting at the doorway.

The sun sank westward, and evening smoke rose with the dusk.

The Daoist sat at the door all night. Three Flower Lady and little Jiang Han sat there all night too. Swallow stood on the bamboo tip all night, while that yellow dog lay in front of them, watching them all night. When the chickens went back into their coop, it lay at the coop's entrance; when they came out, it guarded them again. It was quite devoted to the household.

Not until the following morning did it suddenly turn its head to look somewhere in the distance. Then, paying the Daoist no more heed, it took off running, vanishing into the bamboo grove.

Song You knew then that its master had returned.

After a while, a faint jingling sounded through the mountains. It was likely the bells of mule or horse, drifting from some unknown place.

The sound drew nearer and clearer.

Its direction could now be made out, but the secluded mountain dwelling was blocked by dense bamboo. Though the Daoist looked, he could see nothing.

Yet the Daoist before the bamboo house, the little girl beside him sitting cross-legged in imitation of him, little Jiang Han sitting in a messy imitation of Three Flower Lady, and Swallow atop the bamboo tip all turned toward the sound.

Swallow lowered his head, as if he wanted to speak but stopped himself.

"Jingle jingle jingle..."

The sound soon reached the bamboo grove, crisp and pleasant. Together with the cicadas crying from all directions in the mountains, it stirred a few more traces of anticipation in