We Met an Immortal

The four children's eyes went wide.

Zhao's Second Son looked at his own hand, then at the living donkey braying loudly, froze for a moment, and only reacted after several breaths.

"Donkey!"

"Where did this donkey come from?"

"Is this the trick Uncle was talking about? How did you do it?"

Zhao Eldest Son stared at the donkey, unable to hide the wonder and shock in his eyes. After a long while, he mustered the courage to reach out and touch it, feeling the donkey's fur.

It was warm.

A bit like the horses outside.

But just moments ago, he had clearly seen this donkey cut from paper with his own eyes.

The paper was the Xuanzhou paper he used for calligraphy practice, and the scissors were the ones his mother used for sewing clothes. They were all things from his home, seen hundreds or thousands of times.

"Could it be that an immortal has come?"

The children looked again toward the doorway where that gentleman had stood.

All they saw was the receding silhouette of a carriage driving away.

Zhao's Second Son immediately chased after it, running off.

Zhao Erniang shouted loudly, "Mother—Mother—"

"Father—"

"Something's happened, come quick, the paper turned into a donkey—Big Brother's practice paper turned into a living donkey!"

"We've met an immortal—!"

By the time Village Master Zhao, Lady Zhao, and the Old Matriarch hurried over, they saw the donkey lowering its head to nibble on the camellia leaves by the gate. Zhao's Second Son was being dragged back by a servant holding his collar, his chubby body twisting and turning, his face full of indignation.

Village Master Zhao examined it closely, even reaching out to touch it.

It was indeed a living donkey, grayish-brown, with a big head and long ears, strong limbs. He had a few on his estate, looking exactly the same.

"...It really is a donkey."

Lady Zhao frowned. Having seen it with her own eyes, she found it even more miraculous.

She looked at the four children.

"It really turned from paper?"

The four children chattered all at once beside her. "That gentleman said since we liked horses, he'd give us this treasure."

"Yes, that's exactly it. We saw with our own eyes that the gentleman borrowed paper and scissors and cut it out, not very well. Big Brother didn't say it then, but I knew—he thought the paper-cutting was crude and not much fun."

Zhao Dalang shot a glare at his younger brother.

He said, "Second Brother reached out and touched it, and then we saw this paper donkey float down."

"When it hit the ground, it became a living donkey."

"Son watched it, and it was no different from a real donkey... Father, just who is that gentleman?"

Village Master Zhao's eyes were full of amazement. He looked down and met four pairs of bright, sparkling eyes staring back at him. He was inwardly amused—he himself was still marveling at such a sublime divine figure, while the little ones were already thinking about the donkey.

He stroked his beard, pondering for a moment.

"Don't call him 'gentleman' anymore."

Zhao's Second Son was puzzled, his gaze dropping.

"You should call him 'Immortal' instead!"

Zhao's Second Son lifted his head again, his eyes shining.

Village Master Zhao patted the child's head and scolded, "All of you, no sense of propriety."

Zhao's Youngest Son grew more regretful the more he thought about it:

"Then Father, why did you have people stop me... If it weren't for them, I might have met that Immortal, bowed to him as my master, learned immortal arts, and then I could cut out a few oxen, so Father wouldn't have to wince every time he buys one... Once I learn, maybe I could even turn grain into gold, and then our family would be rich."

Village Master Zhao didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

His youngest son's wish was simple and honest, and it was for the family's sake.

He felt a bit awkward, coughed once, and scolded, "You can't even read your books properly, and you want to learn immortal arts?"

"With guests here today, I didn't call you out, but you stammered through the Classic of Filial Piety. When your big brother was your age, he had already started studying the Great Learning."

"Tomorrow, you'll copy it out properly. If you don't finish, you're not allowed to touch this paper donkey..."

As he spoke, the donkey vanished with a "bang."

Village Master Zhao quickly stopped talking and craned his neck to look.

A paper donkey fell to the ground, still in the shape it had just been cut, with the texture of Xuanzhou paper on it, faintly tinged with green.

Zhao's Second Son was startled, tears welling up, and carefully, cautiously touched the donkey.

Seeing the donkey transform back into its lively form, she quickly let out a sigh of relief, wiped her tears, and turned back to glare at her father.

Village Master Zhao seemed lost in thought.

He called out again.

"Paper donkey."

Seeing the donkey change back, he repeated the test two more times. Everyone watched in wonder, from the old lady to the children to the servants—all were utterly astonished, not daring to make a sound.

Finally.

Village Master Zhao carefully picked up the paper donkey and glanced back at the crowd.

He said with emotion, "I was warning him about the haunted post station, but now it seems I don't know who should be afraid of whom, haha..."

"Don't go spreading this around. Even if a donkey isn't anything rare, it won't bring disaster to our Zhao family. But if you want to play with it later, you'll have no chance if word gets out."

"Remember that?"

His four sons all nodded, staring eagerly at the paper donkey in their father's hand.

Zhao Erniang lifted her head, gazing at the light, flimsy paper donkey, recalling the words the immortal had spoken while watching the cat sleep with her.

Village Master Zhao murmured.

"So this is the immortal's divine art..."

On the official road.

The few of them had naturally seen the miraculous donkey. Though they hadn't caught the details of how it was done, they had heard Mr. Jiang ask the Zhao family for scissors and paper.

Yuan Danqiu's eyes burned with intensity.

He respectfully asked, "Sir, what kind of art is this?"

"Just something I thought up on the spot," Jiang She said. "There's no specific method to it."

Yuan Danqiu's heart itched unbearably. The more he connected the paper to the living donkey, the more his mind churned with restless curiosity. He kept thinking of the children's stunned expressions, wondering what the Zhao family would do...

What a rare thing, what a sublime Daoist art.

So this was how formidable immortals were...

Able to bestow life upon lifeless objects, making them suddenly real.

But no matter how thick-skinned Yuan Danqiu was, he couldn't bring himself to voice his thoughts to Mr. Jiang. He could only force himself to endure once more.

Jiang She saw what was on his mind.

"It's fine to let children play with it, but if you're thinking of using these paper donkeys or paper horses for travel, that simply won't work."

He pointed out the paper donkey's flaws, saying:

"First, it cannot touch water or fire."

"Paper soaks through when wet, and burns when met with flame."

"Second, its transformation has a flaw. It relies on a sliver of heaven and earth's spiritual essence, taking form through the cut paper. If you call it by its true name and someone speaks it aloud, it will revert back."

Yuan Danqiu and Li Bai listened with shining eyes.

The two servants also heard these words, filled with both awe and envy.

They watched Jiang She sit casually, cross-legged on the carriage, one leg slightly bent, the other hanging naturally down, at ease and carefree.

This was a true immortal.

The carriage traveled through the afternoon and reached the post station by evening. Ahead, an officer checked their travel permits—the Great Tang's travel documents.

The Old Deer Mountain God didn't have such a thing. When he was young, the land was still the Han Land. So he reached out.

And lightly tapped the air.

The station officer swayed slightly, casually glanced over their documents, saw they were all together, and paid no further mind, continuing to chat with his companion.

"What happened to that fellow afterward?"

"Who knows? Ever since his wife died and his child was lost, the man went mad. Spends all day babbling nonsense, scared of everyone he sees. It's a pity—Wang San used to be a good man. Every New Year, everyone lined up at his place to slaughter pigs; the threshold was nearly worn down."

"How did a good man go mad?"

"Who can say? Maybe he ran into something unclean." The middle-aged station officer said this, then thought of his own post at this station.

He cursed, shrinking his neck.

Muttering, "Sooner or later, I'll use some money to transfer elsewhere. Bad luck."

Long-term request for monthly tickets and recommendation votes =v=