Chapter Nineteen: Tales of the Past

“Master didn’t really leave us with any instructions. He said he’s already taught us everything he could—hunting, farming, gathering herbs, cooking… Everything he knew, he passed on to us.” Sorrow was etched across A’Chou’s bruised, battered face. “He told us that after he left, the two of us could go wherever we wished. Even if no one is here to watch over us, we should be able to survive.”

“That does sound like something he’d say,” Xu Yuan remarked, casting a glance at the gravestone not far away. After a moment’s pause, he asked, “So, what do you two plan to do now?”

“I want to stay here!” A’Chou replied without the slightest hesitation.

“Why?” Xu Yuan countered.

“This is where I grew up…” A’Chou said, his voice dull with confusion. Isn’t a person supposed to live where they were raised? Here, his memories lingered; the traces of those he once knew still remained. He was accustomed to life here.

Xu Yuan reached out and patted A’Chou’s shoulder silently, then turned his gaze to A’Guai. “And you?”

“I… I want to leave the mountain,” A’Guai said, staring at his feet, unable to meet A’Chou’s eyes.

They were both orphans taken in by Old Daoist Xu. Had he not raised them, they would have long since perished, lost to the world. Now that Old Daoist Xu was gone, tradition dictated that they inherit his mantle. A master is like a father. Now that their master was gone, would A’Chou be left alone atop the mountain, with no one even to talk to… The thought burned A’Guai’s cheeks with shame.

But he truly disliked life on the mountain. It was harsh and exhausting, filled with endless toil for little more than a bare existence. Apart from the scenery and the tranquility, there was little to admire. He’d grown weary of this environment, having been surrounded by it his entire life. He yearned to descend the mountain, to venture into the teeming world below and see what it held. Even if the thorns in the world below were no fewer than those atop the mountain—how would he know, if he didn’t try?

“There’s no need to feel guilty,” Xu Yuan said, pulling them both down to sit on the ground with him. “Your master was hardly a proper Daoist. If anything, I doubt he’s even read more than a handful of Daoist scriptures.”

“Hmm?” Both pairs of eyes turned toward him with curiosity.

Indeed, though the name ‘Clear Breeze Monastery’ sounded like a Daoist sanctuary and Old Daoist Xu did possess a robe, that was where the resemblance ended. The place bore no other trace of religious life. The three stone houses were merely two bedrooms and a kitchen—hardly the layout of a monastery! Old Daoist Xu had taught them to read and write, yes, but never had them study the Daoist canon—for that matter, there wasn’t even a single book in the house…

“Your master was, in fact, just a hunter by birth,” Xu Yuan’s gaze grew distant. “In those early years, Qing County hadn’t yet discovered its copper mine. One day, a strange phenomenon appeared in the sky. People claimed it was an auspicious omen, a sign that fortune was near. The authorities demanded that rare and valuable treasures be sent to the imperial court from all over…

“Qing County was large, and some officials saw an opportunity to curry favor by presenting this so-called omen, so they sent hunters into the mountains to search for wonders. Old Daoist Xu’s father was among them. At first, there was nothing to be found, so the officials ordered them to venture deeper into the wilderness… The deep mountains and forests—even seasoned hunters could easily lose their way or come to harm.”

Xu Yuan sighed.

“Did Master’s father get killed by a beast?” A’Chou asked anxiously. Old Daoist Xu had never told them this story before.

“No. He simply got lost in the forest, unable to find his way out. The mountains are vast, and a man lost within them is like water lost at sea. Once you lose your bearings, your chances of survival dwindle quickly. The other hunters searched for days, but finally had to give up. Only Old Daoist Xu, who was just in his teens, refused to accept it. He carried food and a bow into the forest alone.

“He followed the marks his father had left, wandering in circles, and eventually found his father’s body on this very mountain. At that point, only two ridges remained between him and safety. For an experienced hunter, that wasn’t an insurmountable distance. But after losing his way, too much time had been wasted. Though the forest held things to stave off hunger and thirst, none were clean or safe. The longer you lingered, the slimmer your chances of getting out.”

After recounting this old tale, Xu Yuan continued, “After that, Old Daoist Xu settled here in the mountains. He built these three stone houses with his own hands. One day, a wandering, elderly Daoist passed through. The two of them struck up a conversation and became fast friends. The old Daoist left behind a lineage certificate so the tradition could be passed on…

“With that certificate, he was freed from worldly entanglements. No more taxes or levies—so he could save some money and take in you two.”

Xu Yuan fell silent then. It was not a complicated story. Old Daoist Xu’s life had been simple, just like most ordinary people’s. He’d spent most of his life on the mountain; when travelers passed through, he’d point them in the right direction, warn them of the dangers that lurked in the woods. If someone in need appeared, he’d let them stay for a few nights. When nothing else called for his attention, he’d hunt in the mountains, keeping an eye out for the lost…

He was an unrestrained spirit. He didn’t care for the bustle of the world, preferring only to do as he pleased here.

Once A’Chou and A’Guai had taken all this in, Xu Yuan spoke again. “So whether you choose to stay or to leave, it makes no difference to him. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. You needn’t feel any burden.”

“But if we go, everything Master left behind, everything he wanted to do, there’ll be no one to carry it on…” A’Chou shook his head. “I won’t leave.”

A’Guai kept his head bowed and said nothing.

“Follow your heart. Old Daoist Xu never imposed any demands on you, and you don’t need to force yourselves either.” Xu Yuan’s gaze settled on A’Guai. “When do you plan to leave the mountain?”

“I… I’ll keep vigil for Master for a year, then I’ll go,” A’Guai answered hesitantly.

“Then let’s say our farewells here.” Xu Yuan nodded, said no more, and turned to leave the monastery.

As his white-robed figure receded into the distance, A’Chou suddenly called out, “Mr. Xu!”

“Hm?” Xu Yuan halted.

“Will you come back to play chess with me again?”

“Perhaps,” Xu Yuan replied.

A faint smile broke through A’Chou’s ugly features. “Then I’m afraid you’ll only have me for five-in-a-row! I’m not clever enough for Go—can’t match you and Master battling for half a day.”

Xu Yuan didn’t answer, only waved his hand and stepped out of Clear Breeze Monastery.

Outside, Ji Wu had been waiting all this time. When he saw Xu Yuan emerge, he sized him up and asked cautiously, “Mr. Xu, are you feeling down?”

Xu Yuan gave a wry smile. “Yesterday, I lost the pleasure of drink. Today, I lose the joy of chess. How could my spirits be high?”

Ji Wu scratched his head, at a loss for words to comfort him. Was it possible that even someone as otherworldly as Mr. Xu had his own troubles?

He followed Xu Yuan down the mountain.

As they walked, Xu Yuan suddenly recited:

“Palace and forest, all but dreams, The world’s praise and blame, let them be. In idle places, pass a simple life. Sip autumn’s dew from a cup, Carve ice with verses through the night. Remember those rainy nights by the small window, the lamp-lit hours and tender talk. Who will journey a thousand miles to be your companion? The evening hills arch like slender brows, The autumn rivers gleam like mirrors.”

It was a poem Ji Wu had never heard before, its ethereal and melancholy notes echoing among the mountains—desolate and solitary.