Buying Fish, Piercing Willow, and Wooing the Cicada

The mountain wind wailed like ghosts crying in the night.

Song You sat back in a safe spot.

This place was about four feet wide. Going by Song You's personal sense, one Great Yan foot roughly equaled thirty centimeters from his previous life, so the width here was about the same as a dormitory bunk bed, with similar height as well—definitely not enough to stand up in.

One side was a stone cliff, the other a precipice.

The lantern holding the Rosy Cloud Light sat on the ground, illuminating a small area along this chiseled cliff path, bringing a faint warmth to the cramped space.

The Three Flower Cat was running left and right, sniffing here, sniffing there, occasionally walking to the cliff's edge, poking its head out to look around, lost in thought.

It was clear that arriving in a strange place left it unsettled. In the end, it seemed to decide that the most familiar thing here was the person beside it. Frowning, it looked up at Song You several times, hesitating, then hesitating again, before slowly inching over and lying down next to him.

Song You had already closed his eyes, meditating in stillness.

Mountains and waters have spirits; mountains have mountain spirits, waters have water spirits. Each mountain has its own spirit, all different, requiring careful perception.

The wailing mountain wind in his ears, the reverence of the people below, the masterful poems and famous lines left by countless scholars here over the centuries, every stroke carved into the cliff face by ancient people to ensure safety, every person who had walked here, even those who had fallen from this place—all were part of this mountain spirit's essence.

The mountain's spiritual energy was carried by the wind, gathering here.

The Three Flower Cat had originally curled up by Song You out of fear of the unfamiliar, but now it seemed to find something even more comfortable, pressing closer to him.

As the night deepened, the stars and moon emerged one after another, the temperature dropping bit by bit. The Three Flower Cat couldn't help but move closer and closer to Song You, eventually sleeping right against him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body and a refreshing coolness that soothed its heart.

The light in the lantern still glowed.

If someone below were traveling by night and looked up, they might notice this unusual speck of light between the cliffs a thousand feet above.

Around midnight, Song You opened his eyes.

He raised his hand, and a wisp of spiritual power floated above it. It looked like a stream of light, a pale yellow with a slight green tint, composed of two layers: an inner core of highly condensed light and an outer layer transparent as air, loose as smoke.

This was the harvest of this stage.

The method Song You cultivated was the Four Seasons Cycle Method. His cultivation was tied to the changing seasons and the rotation of solar terms, so the spiritual power he produced often carried the attributes of the season.

It was the opposite of his master's Five Elements Method in effect—it could prolong life but wasn't good for strengthening the body. At the same time, each strand of its spiritual power had its own unique uses, but it lacked the natural destructive power of spiritual power cultivated through methods like the Yin-Yang Method.

And this was what spiritual power looked like in this world—

A core at the center, with spiritual energy on the outside. Only the spiritual energy was consumable; the core was the origin, not to be touched. Once the spiritual energy was used up, the core would slowly regenerate it over time and through meditation and rest. Meditating could both increase spiritual power and temper the core, requiring a balance between the two.

"Hoo..."

Song You let out a long breath and casually dispersed this wisp of spiritual power into the mountains, leaving only the glowing yellow core, like a thin thread, to drill back into his body.

He turned his head slightly. A small cat was pressed against him.

Song You stared at it without moving.

A cat's body temperature is higher than a human's. It was hard to say whether the Three Flower Cat was borrowing his warmth or he was borrowing hers, but at this moment, she was sleeping tightly against him, giving him a long-missed feeling of being depended on and trusted. Seeing her sleeping so soundly, seemingly without a care in the world, his own heart felt much calmer.

He couldn't bear to move, so he decided to sleep like this for the night.

For the rest of the night, there were faint signs of mountain spirits stirring, but they didn't come to disturb Song You. Places rarely visited by humans often became havens for spirits and monsters, but without the constant flow of people, harmful ghosts and demons also vanished without a trace.

Even though he woke up countless times from the cold, for Song You, it was still a quiet night.

The next morning.

Mist filled the mountains, but it all lay below the cliffs.

Song You sat with his back against the cliff wall, eating breakfast while watching the Three Flower Cat beside him play with a stone, batting it with her paw.

Today's meal was a bit better than the past few days.

Hadn't he passed a checkpoint yesterday? That place was quite lively. Song You had bought some steamed buns, all with meat fillings—some with pork, some with egg. Even though he was past the age of growing, he still couldn't go without meat.

The Three Flower Cat played for a while, then suddenly seemed to notice something. She ran to the cliff's edge, poked her head out to look, then turned back to Song You and said:

"It turned red!"

"What?"

"Yesterday it was still green!"

"What?"

"The trees!"

"Mm..."

Song You followed her gaze.

Sure enough, the trees that had been growing on the cliff had all turned red overnight, as if deep autumn had already arrived. The pale stone walls and the rolling white mist below, set against the red leaves on the cliff, made the scenery look much more refined.

Song You didn't seem surprised, just looked at the view:

"It's the Start of Autumn today."

"Start of Autumn?"

"It means autumn has come."

"Cold weather."

"Pretty much..." Song You tore open a fresh steamed bun. "Does the Three Flower Lady want the bun filling? It's meat."

"Mm?"

The Three Flower Cat turned its head to stare at him.

Its right paw nudged a pebble to the left; its left paw had meant to block it but failed in time, and the stone tumbled off the cliff, leaving it stunned for a moment.

"It fell down!"

"Do you eat meat filling?"

"This morning you weren't awake yet, so Three Flower Lady went over there and caught a little bird to eat," the Three Flower Cat said, a hint of regret in its voice. "Pity I only caught one."

"Very good."

This was a cat that gave no trouble.

Song You quickly finished the steamed bun, stood up, and bent over, saying, "It's cold up here on the mountain. Let's head down."

"Three Flower Lady feels cold too."

"Let's go."

Song You walked forward, stooped, while the Three Flower Cat crawled at his feet, looking up at him as it moved.

"It's so cold here, and the path is hard to walk—why don't you take the lower road?"

Song You smiled but said nothing.

The mountain mist had yet to dissipate. On one side of the cliff were carved ghosts and gods; on the other, a bottomless abyss, where only white clouds were visible, not the depths.

On the stone wall beside him, someone had inscribed a poem:

Though I've been exiled to this southern wasteland nine times, I hold no regret—this journey, so singularly wondrous, crowns my life.

It was still early. The morning light was like gold, and through the mist stretched ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers, small bridges over flowing streams, villages faintly appearing—such a pristine mountain village scene, rare in later ages, made him forget, amid such beauty, that he was in a backward place.

Hearing the distant cries of vendors hawking their wares, Song You knew that he and the Three Flower Lady had been lucky enough to hit the market day of this village.

Markets in villages like this usually opened only once every few days, or even every ten days or half a month.

Arriving in such a lively place, the Three Flower Cat couldn't help but feel a bit nervous, losing the lively bounce it had on the mountain paths. It stuck close to Song You's feet, making him constantly worry he might step on its paws or tail.

Unfortunately, they had come a bit late; the market was already winding down. Though a few vendors were reluctant to pack up and go home, there was no fish seller to be found.

When they heard the same hawking cries again, it meant they had walked a full circle and returned.

"Taoist priest, what are you looking for?"

The Three Flower Cat looked up at Song You, staring intently.

"I told you, I'm not a Taoist priest."

"Then what are you?"

"It's complicated to explain." Song You thought for a moment, then explained to it, "I just grew up in a Taoist temple. I practice spells and read Taoist classics, but I don't follow Taoist doctrine, nor do I worship Taoist deities. Even my master was, at most, a fake Taoist priest."

"Don't understand."

The Three Flower Cat's attitude was utterly honest.

"That means we're just cultivators who took over a Taoist temple and wear Taoist robes," Song You said.

"Why take over someone else's temple?"

"We built it ourselves—our predecessors built it, passed down through generations." Song You explained helplessly. "The goal was to enjoy the government's preferential policies toward religion. Some lazy ancestral masters could also use it to live the life they wanted."

"Still don't understand."

"Then call me whatever you like."

"Alright, Taoist priest."

"Let's go..."

Song You said, with a mix of helplessness and regret.

Just as he was about to leave, he turned around. The sunlight, nearing noon, had just dispelled the mist. By the riverbank in the distance, willows stood in a row. Beneath one willow, an old man in a bamboo hat sat by the river, holding a fishing rod, reeling in a catch.

"Three Flower Lady, please wait for me here."

Song You walked along the river, threading through the willows, and soon reached the old fisherman. He bowed respectfully: "Elder, greetings. May I ask if you're selling your catch?"

"The fish I catch are all small ones, for my own meals. Young sir, you'd best go buy some at the market."

"This Humble One recently formed a bond with a calico cat, promising to accompany it for a stretch of the journey, but I've yet to give it a betrothal gift, which weighs on my heart. Passing through here today, I wished to buy two small fish as its betrothal gift, but I've scoured the market and found none." Song You said respectfully. "So I had no choice but to seek help from you, elder."

"In that case, what harm is there in giving you two fish?"

"How dare I accept a gift from you, elder? I should buy them at the market price!"

"This old man would rather give them to you as a gift."

"Then many thanks, elder."

Song You dared not refuse further, for the elder had already gifted him the fish. In return, he ought to gift the elder a measure of ease.

Before long—

Song You walked back through the willows, carrying two small fish in his hand. The Three Flower Cat had a cicada in her mouth, freshly caught, and sat upright waiting for him.

Seeing him approach, she lowered her head and spat the cicada onto the ground. "Taoist priest, I just caught a cicada. Do you want to eat it?"

"Thank you, but no."

Song You was uncharacteristically solemn as he declined, bending down to offer her the small fish with sincere earnestness. "Three Flower Lady, I wish to form a bond with you. This is my betrothal gift. Though the gift is humble, it is my heartfelt intention and a tradition of Great Yan. Please, enjoy it."

The Three Flower Cat looked down at the fish, then up at him:

"I don't know what a betrothal gift is."

Song You straightened up and explained softly:

"It means that when ordinary folk want to keep a cat, they must give a gift to the kitten's mother, or to the cat's original owner, or to the kitten itself. It signifies inviting the cat into their home to help catch mice—a token of thanks for the cat's hard work, payment for its labor."

"I understand."

"Please, enjoy it."

"If I eat your fish, will I be your cat?"

"No," Song You said. "The Three Flower Lady is still her own cat. The Three Flower Lady will forever belong only to herself. It's just that on the road ahead, we will walk side by side, keep each other company, support one another. In some places, I may need to rely on the Three Flower Lady's help, or depend on her tolerance. So I'm giving the Three Flower Lady some food in advance, as a gift."

"It's like the offerings I used to receive."

"Somewhat similar."

"..."

The Three Flower Cat stared at him, lost in thought.