Ye Chen looked at the empty little temple behind him, his heart stirring with countless questions. He couldn't understand what the Daoist had meant by his final words.
On the surface, the words seemed easy enough to understand. But whenever Ye Chen tried to delve deeper and uncover their true meaning, he felt as though he had run into some kind of barrier.
Ye Chen racked his brains but couldn't figure it out. With no other choice, he set out for Chang'an once more. He spent the entire journey pondering the Daoist's words, but got nowhere.
What was more, Ye Chen searched through his memories and couldn't recall seeing any story about this Daoist in Journey to the West. He found that puzzling, too, and had no idea who the Daoist really was.
The winter roads were treacherous. Ye Chen trod carefully over one icy stretch after another. To avoid falling, he tied a few pieces of dry grass to the soles of his shoes, but it didn't seem to help much.
After another fall, Ye Chen sat on the ground for a long while without getting up. He gazed at the sky, wondering whether gods and immortals really existed in this world.
If they did, why couldn't he see the fabled Celestial Palace? But if they didn't, how could he explain the Daoist he'd met that morning?
Ye Chen shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. He stood up, brushed the snow off his backside, and continued toward Chang'an.
A few days later, Ye Chen finally reached the outskirts of Chang'an City. Looking at the city's magnificent walls, he couldn't help marveling that Great Tang had already begun to show signs of a golden age so early in its history.
After the soldiers at the city gate inspected him,