Life in the mountains was actually very quiet.
Of course, that peace was what Black Snake, Fox, and the fat Weasel felt. For frogs, wild mice, pheasants, and the like, danger lurked on every side each day.
When it rained, they breathed in the rain's essence and took lightning strikes; the rest of the time, they hunted.
At dawn, they did their utmost to learn human speech from Chi Ke.
If one year was not enough, they would give it ten. If ten years still proved insufficient, they would devote another twenty springs and autumns. One day, they would understand the language of the human world. At least this stubborn devotion lent their simple lives a different glimmer of light.
Before they knew it, the weather turned cool. The treetops along the high ridges lost their green first, then the change seeped down the slopes and valleys. Some leaves beside the stream turned red. Beautiful as the scenery was, Black Snake's eyes could distinguish few colors.
Grass seeds ripened, and wild fruit weighed down the branches.
Birds and beasts wove through the woods, putting on autumn fat or hiding fruit in crevices and burrows.
Sometimes flocks of birds suddenly gathered, chirping all day, then vanished without a trace the next morning, leaving only empty branches trembling gently in the wind.
Black Snake had grown far less dependent on food. A few fat fish caught in the river were enough to sustain him for a long time. Fish were convenient to eat, without all those feathers and hard bones.
On another multicolored morning, Chi Ke shouted into the empty mountains, making cries whose meaning even Fox could not decipher.
Lamenting spring and grieving autumn happened to be a weakness of Chi Ke's.
After straining for ages to squeeze out a few words, he sighed that he simply was not cut out for singing of wind and moonlight.
Tired of shouting, he flopped onto his mat faceup.
"Ah, after years of bitter cultivation, I still have nothing to show for it. I'm no good at writing, no good at cultivating. I really am... ah."
Black Snake remained indifferent as usual.
Fox called softly to Chi Ke twice, then blinked, seemingly trying to tell him something.
Stroking his long beard, Chi Ke regarded Fox thoughtfully, and his eyes lit up.
"Brother Fox, you mean... my eyes?"
Before he finished speaking, Fox nodded repeatedly and looked toward the Thatched Hut at the bottom of the valley, pointing out something Chi Ke had overlooked all along.
Slow on the uptake, Chi Ke finally understood and recalled what had happened that summer day when he encountered ghosts.
At the time, he had thought it a dream. Only later did he realize he had already been awake, merely deceived. Strangest of all, how exactly had he traveled from the Lone Crag Courtyard to the Thatched Hut below? Only upon thinking it through carefully did he realize something was wrong. He remembered the sky being a ghastly white, had mistaken it for daylight, and had hurried down in excitement.
Only when he spotted the clues and exposed the ghosts' tricks did the pitch-black night instantly return. That entire journey downhill, caught between light and darkness, became a question hanging over his heart.
What if he had walked the whole way down himself?
Those uncanny things had no reason to keep him safe. Their purpose was to lure him out of the courtyard so he would lose his footing in the pitch-black night, tumble down a steep slope, and die. Yet he had reached the Thatched Hut with every limb intact.
In other words-there was something extraordinary about his eyes!
"Hahaha! I finally cultivated it! Haha, I did it! Hahaha...!"
The fat Weasel watched Chi Ke stumble away, then looked at Fox, suspecting Fox had cast some mind-bewitching illusion on him.
Fox looked bewildered.
Black Snake did not think Chi Ke was shouting like that to hunt. Making so much noise would scare prey away. He seemed more like an animal in spring seeking a mate to lay eggs or bear young with, calling over and over in the wilderness.
The morning lesson broke up early that day. Fox and Weasel each slipped into the forest to search for prey.
Black Snake lazily basked in the warm sunshine.
Lost in a haze, he lost track of time. When he blearily opened his eyes, he saw a thin white frost coating the dead grass and leaves across the ground.
Was the season when white blanketed the mountains coming again? Time truly hurried along.
He vaguely remembered winter being silent, with no insects singing and few traces of living creatures. The wind sobbed, and only when old trees swayed did long, lonely creaks echo out.
It was time to prepare for hibernation. Smooth-brained Black Snake had even forgotten the parching thirst of his previous hibernation and his repeated trips downhill to drink.
He would wait a little longer, then return to the cave when it snowed.
Dozing made time pass quickly. Leaves fluttered down in the wind.
After a cold autumn rain, the temperature suddenly dropped. In the latter half of the night, chilly rain pattered at the foot of the mountain. A little farther up, the rain became sleet, rustling against fallen leaves. Higher still, a distinct snow line stretched across the mountainside.
Below the snow line lay the last lingering shadows of late autumn; above it rose peaks white with frost and snow.
Rain, snow, and icy slush covered the vast, empty Giant Rock...
Deep inside the cave, Black Snake coiled in a dry spot. His body temperature was very low, his heartbeat and breathing slow, as he lay quietly dormant through the long darkness.
Heavy snow fell over the Lone Crag Courtyard, where wisps of blue smoke curled upward. Three people worked together, pulling on a pry bar to shift the furnace lid. Another batch of rich, moist medicinal salve had been refined, and its fragrance rode the wind over snowy ridges toward the distance.
On every full-moon night, Black Snake left his body and climbed toward the summit to gaze at the moon.
The years deep in the mountains were plain to begin with. Days flowed quietly like stream water, without many waves, following much the same course in their silent passage...
Seventeen years later.
A little frost had appeared at Chi Ke's temples. Perhaps he had taken too many pills, or perhaps those things he haphazardly refined were wonderfully nourishing. They actually gave him a rosy complexion and the look of white hair paired with a youthful face. To those who entered the mountains seeking immortals, his appearance became the very image of an immortal cultivating in seclusion.
After being steeped in those calls for more than ten years, Black Snake could finally pick out a few simple phrases of human speech from the rise and fall of the tones.
The wilderness remained unchanged, the four seasons as usual. Only Chi Ke had grown old,
Black Snake quietly grew through one shedding after another, adding more than two feet to his length.
One spring morning.
With his travel bundle on his back, Hunter waved farewell to Chi Ke and headed down the mountain, looking back with every step.
Old Yellow Dog shuffled along beside him, his coat as dull as autumn grass and cloudy white discharge clinging to the corners of his eyes. Wagging his tail as he accompanied his companion, he was always very happy.
Chi Ke was reluctant to see him go. Hunter had toiled in the mountains for so many years; it was time for him to return home and rest.
Beside him stood a sturdy young man of about seventeen or eighteen, like a wild leopard. Broad-shouldered and thick-backed, his solid muscles filled out his coarse-cloth tunic. His eyes shone black, and he possessed the distinctive cool composure of a hunter from the wilderness.
Hunter's son took over the duty of protecting Chi Ke, bringing the large black hunting dog he had raised himself to guard the Lone Crag Courtyard.
An old friend's child was worthy of trust. He could hardly entrust his safety at a whim to an unrelated stranger.
After Hunter began following Chi Ke all those years ago, life had gradually become more comfortable. He no longer worried over food, clothing, or daily expenses, and his children had enough to eat and warm clothes to wear. Without a solid household foundation, how could he have raised a son as sturdy as a mountain boulder?
Only when that figure had vanished completely into the woods did Chi Ke withdraw his gaze, softly lamenting how time flew like a shuttle.
The sturdy young man was quick and diligent. Hunter had taught him every task he needed to do. He carried water and split firewood briskly and neatly, and brought back even more game than old Hunter.
Chi Ke led Hunter's
son to the Giant Rock.
The young man showed little reaction upon seeing Fox and the fat Weasel. Old Hunter had warned him beforehand, and besides, those two really did look perfectly ordinary.
When the great Black Snake silently climbed onto the Giant Rock, the young man instinctively retreated two steps, breathing rapidly as he nervously cupped his fist in greeting.
Chi Ke shakily sat down and rubbed his knees.
"Snake Brother, this is my old companion's boy. He'll be living with me in the mountains from now on. Get acquainted, and please look after him."
Black Snake understood a few words and pieced the rest together through guesswork, arriving fairly close to the meaning.
He swayed from side to side and slithered forward.
The young man took another few steps back. Anyone seeing such a sight for the first time would inevitably panic.
But Black Snake was faster. He stopped before the young man, his raised head level with him, then leaned close and flicked his tongue. Its forked tips nearly touched the young man's cheek.
He memorized the scent, classified him as something not to be eaten, then slithered back to his old spot and coiled up, remaining silent.
Chi Ke smiled in satisfaction.
Soon, his expression turned sorrowful, his brow and eyes filled with the weariness of a heart grown cold and disheartened.
"They've been fighting out there for decades, and it still hasn't settled down. The villages have relocated again and again, drawing ever closer to this valley. I hope you three will bear with it."
"The world is far from peaceful, and roving bandits are springing up. If you encounter vicious strangers, just kill them."
Chi Ke came from an established family and was no indiscriminate do-gooder. He knew he must never be softhearted when ruthlessness was needed. He understood all too well that certain roving bandits had made slaughter and plunder their nature. Evil deeds became addictive with repetition; getting such men to live peacefully was as difficult as climbing to heaven.