Paper Donkey

They were heading northwest this time, stopping first at Luoyang to have a look.

Luoyang should be one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the world today—full of poetry, wine, and romance, with a thriving Hu influence. The Tang people adored peonies, and Luoyang was where that love burned brightest.

They traveled along the official post road, also called the main highway, packed with rammed earth and fairly smooth.

Out on the road, Jiang She hadn't planned on eating much, but he never expected such a large group to be traveling together. Li Bai and Yuan Danqiu had stocked up on all sorts of things, and Yuan Danqiu, lacking a horse, grumbled about buying one at the next county town.

So at noon, they stopped at a nearby village and borrowed a few places to rest.

They were tall and imposing, with a horse-drawn carriage, and looked quite intimidating.

After asking at several households, they finally gained entry.

It was the home of the village's wealthiest family, surnamed Zhao. The master was in his thirties, with two sons and two daughters. There was also his wife and an elderly mother.

When the children saw these guests, they stared with wide-eyed curiosity.

Few outsiders ever came to the village. Even fewer brought a cat and horses.

That made it all the more novel.

Jiang She smiled and gently brushed aside a child's hand reaching for the cat, saying softly, "This cat likes its freedom and probably doesn't enjoy being too close to people. Little miss, be careful not to get scratched."

The little girl wore a ruqun skirt, her hair in double buns, with a red velvet flower pinned on her head—clearly a cherished daughter.

Zhao Erniang stared at the cat without blinking.

In a very small voice, she asked, "If Erniang doesn't touch it, can she just watch it here?"

"Of course you can."

Village Master Zhao was very hospitable, offering good food, including a bowl of mutton soup on the table. The group sorted their luggage and took a short rest.

The dishes weren't all served yet.

Li Bai borrowed a table from the Zhao family and took out brush, ink, and paper from his luggage.

He quickly wrote a letter explaining their situation to Meng Haoran.

He added a line: This trip will take a year. The peaches, plums, and pomegranates in the courtyard will ripen—they taste excellent. Master Meng should try some.

He also wrote with a laugh that when they left, they'd heard drumming and gongs—many people were making offerings. According to the Deer Mountain God, the prefect and county magistrate wanted to build a shrine for Mr. Jiang.

But those people had no idea they were wandering among the mountains and forests.

The divide between immortals and mortals.

That was where it could truly be seen.

Li Bai wrote swiftly, just like composing poetry—almost without thinking, finishing in one go, as if waiting at his horse. After writing, he blew on the ink to dry it, then tucked it into his case.

Li Bai asked Village Master Zhao, "How far to the nearest post station?"

"About seventeen li. Keep heading north, guests."

Post stations were set up every thirty li, varying by north-south and local conditions, but Xiangyang was a thoroughfare with frequent merchant traffic, so the stations strictly followed this rule.

Village Master Zhao observed these men from a distance. Their bearing was extraordinary, their clothes and appearance marked them as scholars, and beside them was an old man of great age whose every move made one's heart tremble.

No wonder the other village households dared not welcome them.

These people must be carrying valuables, and with a man in his eighties or nineties, if anything went wrong, how would it be settled?

Village Master Zhao asked, "Where are you guests headed?"

Jiang She said, "To Luoyang."

Village Master Zhao stroked his beard. "Luoyang is good. Going to visit relatives or friends?"

Jiang She smiled.

Village Master Zhao took that as an answer. Seeing they looked like scholars, he called over his two sons—the elder thirteen, the younger nine, both by nominal age—and told them to recite the Book of Documents and the Classic of Filial Piety for the guests.

The two boys had been running wild outside playing with the horses.

When the servants dragged them over, the elder son looked wilted, while the younger bristled like a hedgehog, his hair standing on end as if about to burst into flames. Both were still fixated on the big horses outside and couldn't focus.

Only when they saw the guests did they start reciting, their expressions pitiful.

Jiang She couldn't help but laugh.

He interrupted the younger boy's recitation and said, "The village tutor has taught your children well."

Village Master Zhao's face glowed with pride as he smoothed his sleeves and chuckled, modestly saying, "Not at all, not at all. They're just two little troublemakers, always causing worry."

After much conversation, the group grew somewhat familiar.

Village Master Zhao thought for a moment and then offered a special piece of advice.

"This isn't something I ought to say, but perhaps you guests should rest here tonight, set out tomorrow fully prepared, and ride straight to the station after the next one without stopping midway."

"You guests may not know, but the nearby station has been haunted for the past two years—there are stories about it!"

Village Master Zhao glanced at the group, his gaze lingering on the old man.

He urged:

"Especially since you have an elderly gentleman with you—he certainly can't endure such trouble and upheaval. Better to rest for the night and travel quickly tomorrow!"

The Old Deer Mountain God never imagined that one day he would become a burden.

He smiled and stroked his beard.

Jiang She grew interested.

"What kind of ghost?"

Why would Village Master Zhao be inquiring about such a thing? He would normally avoid it. Shaking his head, he said, "How would I know that?"

At this moment, the last two dishes were brought up—steamed pork and chicken with scallion and vinegar.

Village Master Zhao was warm and sincere; the table was filled with the fragrant aroma of food. A basket of flatbread, a large bowl of shepherd's purse noodle soup—that is, sliced noodle soup. Leeks, bok choy, mutton soup, plus the steamed pork and chicken with scallion and vinegar that had just arrived, with a small dish of dipping sauce in the center.

The cat also had its own food, a small portion of meat that Jiang She had brought himself.

He had asked someone to set up a small table for her alone. The cat ate ravenously, barely chewing.

"Many thanks, Village Master Zhao."

"Sir, you are too kind."

The group thanked him before beginning their meal.

The pig had been bought and slaughtered from a villager, the chicken was home-raised, and the vegetables were grown in the fields. From picking to serving to eating, it took no more than an hour—fresh and delicious, with a unique fragrance.

Seeing that the young man addressed as "Sir" had also set up a small table for the cat.

The group all smiled.

Zhao's Youngest Son asked, "Does a cat need to eat like a person too?"

"It does," Jiang She said. "Though a cat is small, it understands human hearts, so it should be treated well."

"Then what about the pig we're eating? Does it hurt?"

Jiang She thought for a moment.

"So we must eat it well."

Village Master Zhao tapped his youngest son's hand with his chopsticks. "Asking all these questions—why don't you just eat quickly?"

Zhao's Youngest Son sulked, lowering his head, eating only the noodle soup in front of him with his spoon, not touching the other dishes.

Jiang She said with a smile:

"When children are young, they don't fully understand. Seeing the suffering of others and feeling pity—that is innate kindness. Your son possesses it."

Village Master Zhao felt pleased by his words, his face glowing with satisfaction, and he no longer scolded his son.

After the meal, before the group departed, Jiang She spoke.

"May I ask if there is paper and scissors?"

"I, Jiang, would like to borrow them."

The attendant brought them over. Jiang She called for the Zhao children, who had been very interested in the tall horses outside earlier.

The four children gathered around, wondering what this guest was going to do.

Jiang She roughly cut out a donkey shape with the scissors, forming a paper donkey. It was a bit asymmetrical, perhaps slightly lame, but that didn't matter.

He took a medicine bottle from his sleeve.

He dripped a single drop.

A cyan liquid spread out, faintly coloring the paper, then quickly disappeared. The children tilted their heads to watch. The eldest son, the oldest, didn't know what the guest was doing, but he watched along anyway.

Jiang She blew a breath.

The paper donkey immediately stood up.

He said mischievously, "I saw you liked the horses earlier, so I'll give you this to play with."

The eldest son hesitated and asked, "Mr. Jiang, how do you play with this paper..."

Zhao's Second Son reached out to grab it.

Then they saw the donkey, upon touching a person.

Suddenly fluttered to the ground, turning into a slightly lame gray-brown donkey, with a short mane, thin tail, and long ears. Seeing the four children, it raised its head and sniffed.

"Hee-haw—hee-haw—"

It brayed.

What should I name the little cat...

Long-term begging for monthly tickets and recommendation tickets =v=