Danyang City, a side street.
The new sign for Zhang San Restaurant hung from the old roof beams. Inside, the lamplight was dim, and only one customer remained in the still of the night.
Zhang Chu washed dishes in the kitchen, while He Can, wearing an apron, wiped the tables with a cloth. Curiosity flickered in his eyes. "You look pretty old, sir. Still have something weighing on your mind?"
At a table by the window sat a white-haired old man with a bamboo hat on his back and a wine gourd at his waist. He held a bowl, pouring and drinking alone. Whether his cloudy eyes were the result of drunkenness or simply age was unclear. He answered, "Should old people have nothing on their minds?"
"Heh."
He Can had been keeping his tail between his legs and working as a cook lately, and his life had hardly been carefree. Seeing that the old man looked like a wandering Jianghu peddler with no ties to the authorities, his urge to chatter flared up again. He wiped his hands and sat down beside him. "The most important thing about living a lifetime is to actually live a lifetime, not die halfway through. At your age, honestly, as long as you can still eat meat and drink a little wine, there's really nothing to worry about. Your descendants have their own blessings waiting for them. They aren't your concern."
The old man nodded thoughtfully and poured He Can a bowl. "But the Cultivation Dao exists in this world. If you entered its gates but couldn't climb any higher, with only a few days of life left, wouldn't that be a pity?"
He Can lifted the bowl and sipped. "Listen to yourself. The Great Dao has no end. How many people throughout