Chapter Fifty: A Century-Long Dream, Yet the General Store Remains Unchanged

Jiang Xiuyuan had spent ten years in Flowing Cloud Immortal City.

Jiang Xiaobai had learned the arithmetic of the human race. She could calculate the accounts of the general store down to the last detail, and had even learned to bargain with cultivators who came to buy things. Her way of bargaining, however, was rather unusual: if the other party wanted even a single coin knocked off the price, they had to offer an interesting enough story in exchange.

Jiang Yiyi, meanwhile, had grown increasingly quiet and reserved. She had finished reading the books Jiang Xiuyuan had brought from the Myriad Scroll Pavilion of the Immortal Hall and placed in the study—from celestial geography to human history, from illustrated herbals to outlines of the myriad arts. She was no longer the little girl who found everything novel and wondrous. Her eyes now held thoughts and opinions of her own.

She often sat behind the counter, quietly listening to the troubles of wandering cultivators. Occasionally, when Jiang Xiuyuan remained silent, she could even offer a few words of comfort in her own understanding.

Over those ten years, the reputation of the Worry-Relief General Store had grown ever greater, yet it remained a forbidden place. The Enforcement Corps' prohibition was like an invisible wall, keeping out all those who harbored ulterior motives. Only cultivators truly driven to the brink by life, or trapped in a dead end on the path of cultivation, would summon the courage to enter Mud Bottle Alley.

What they received there might be a word of guidance, a bowl of hot tea, or perhaps nothing more than a willing ear.

But Jiang Xiuyuan knew that it was time to leave.

“Father, why do we have to go?” Jiang Xiaobai clung to his arm, her face full of reluctance. “Isn’t it nice here? Every day there are stories to hear, and Brother Lin Mu brings us new elixirs every week. They taste much better than the things we sell.”

The Brother Lin Mu she spoke of was the young alchemist who had once attained enlightenment over roasted beans. He had eventually become a moderately renowned alchemist. Though his cultivation was not especially high, the elixirs he refined were of exceptional quality, and he was particularly skilled at making Tranquil Heart Pills that soothed the mind.

Grateful for Jiang Xiuyuan’s kindness, he brought over the elixirs he newly refined every week, never asking for anything in return.

Jiang Xiuyuan patted Jiang Xiaobai on the head and said gently, “There is no feast that does not end. We are travelers, not those who have found a home. We have heard nearly all the stories this place has to tell. It is time we went to see the scenery elsewhere.”

Jiang Yiyi stood to one side. She understood Father better than Jiang Xiaobai did. As she looked at the little general store, at the familiar bamboo curtain, she too felt a pang of reluctance—but even more strongly, she looked forward to what lay ahead.

“Father, what will happen to the shop?” she asked.

“Let it remain here,” Jiang Xiuyuan said with a smile. “Fates arise and fade according to their appointed course. Perhaps new tenants will occupy it tomorrow. Perhaps it will remain empty forever, until the dust of time seals it away.”

That night, the moonlight was cold and clear. Jiang Xiuyuan left with Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai as quietly as they had arrived ten years before. They disturbed no one and took not so much as a needle or thread, leaving behind only an empty shop—and a city full of legends.

A hundred years passed in the blink of an eye.

To mortals, it was the rise and fall of one or two dynasties. To cultivators, it was the ascent of a new generation and the curtain falling on an old one.

Jiang Xiuyuan took Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai across the frozen snowfields of the Eastern Region’s northern frontier. They witnessed the great leviathans of the Southern Sea surging through the waves and explored the ruins of ancient Buddhas in the Western Desert.

Jiang Yiyi’s cultivation had reached the peak of the Nascent Soul realm, and her state of mind had grown increasingly lucid and serene. Jiang Xiaobai’s divine abilities had also advanced tremendously. Her temperament, however, remained lively and spirited from time to time; on other occasions, when she took up that sword, she became cool and composed, her mind clear.

One day, on a sudden impulse, they entered Flowing Cloud Immortal City once more.

A century was long enough to change far too many things. The immortal city had expanded somewhat. Towering jade halls that reached into the clouds had replaced the low stone houses of the past, and the aura of the cultivators traveling through the sky in flying shuttles was far more powerful than it had been a hundred years before. The former Lower Districts were now lined with shops and filled with bustling crowds.

“Father, look! Everything has changed so much!” Jiang Xiaobai gazed around in curiosity. “I wonder whether the Mud Bottle Alley where we used to live is still there.”

Jiang Xiuyuan threaded his way through the busy streets by memory. In the shadows of the high-rises, a few ancient, unrenovated lanes stubbornly remained, like gaps between the roots of a great tree.

At last, they found the familiar yet unfamiliar alley.

Its entrance had been widened and paved with bluish stone slabs, but that recognizable scent—a mixture of dampness and the warmth of ordinary human life—had not changed.

As they walked deeper into the alley, Jiang Yiyi’s heartbeat quickened for no discernible reason. She did not know what she was hoping for.

At the far end stood the familiar shop.

The old wooden sign above the door, bearing the words Worry-Relief General Store, had been weathered until the lettering was somewhat blurred, yet it remained clearly legible. The shop stood open, and warm light shone from within.

How was this possible?

Jiang Xiuyuan, too, felt a flicker of surprise. How could an ordinary house, left without anyone to care for it, have survived a century of wind and rain amid the expansion of the immortal city?

They did not approach. Instead, they concealed their presence and stood at a distance, quietly observing.

A young female cultivator in the Foundation Establishment realm entered the shop, her face full of sorrow. Behind the counter sat an old man with completely white hair and beard, his cultivation only at the late Foundation Establishment stage. He was leisurely wiping a pill bottle.

“Senior…” The young woman hesitated.

“Miss, have you come to buy something, or to ease your troubles?” the old man asked. His voice was gentle, carrying the weathered wisdom of one who had seen through the ways of the world.

“I…I want to ease my troubles,” the young woman said softly. “I…I am about to give up. I have poor aptitude. After cultivating for thirty years, I have only just reached Foundation Establishment. My fellow disciples all laugh at me, and my partner left me because of it. I don’t know what meaning there is in continuing…”

The old man said nothing. He simply took a clay dish from beneath the counter. It held several beans fried to a crisp golden brown.

“Try some.” He pushed the dish toward her. “That is the rule of this shop. If you want to ease your troubles, you must eat beans first.”

The young woman, puzzled, picked up a bean and placed it in her mouth. Pure, warm fragrance instantly filled her palate.

“Is it good?” the old man asked.

“…It is.”

“This old man’s aptitude was even worse than yours. A hundred and twenty years ago, I was a poor wretch whose alchemy failed again and again. I could barely afford to eat.” The old man smiled, his eyes filled with memories. “Then one day, right here, I ate a dish of these same fried beans. The gentleman who ran this place told me, ‘The key to controlling fire lies in the heart, not in the flames.’”

“My aptitude was poor, but my heart was sincere. It took me ten years to truly understand those words. Then it took another fifty before I could barely refine a few elixirs worthy of being displayed in public. I am a hundred and fifty years old now, and my cultivation is still as feeble as ever. But in Flowing Cloud Immortal City, who hears the name Alchemist Lin Mu without raising a thumb in admiration?”

The three people watching from afar were all shaken.

Lin Mu! It was truly him.

The old man, Lin Mu, continued, “Miss, the path of cultivation is not about comparing how quickly you advance with others. It is about comparing how far you have come with your former self. Your partner left you because he lacked the fortune to walk with you to the end. Your fellow disciples laugh at you because they cannot see the firmness of your Dao-heart. Every day you persist is a victory over the person you were yesterday. That is your meaning.”

“This shop was left behind by that gentleman. After he departed, I took it over. My cultivation is too meager to offer anyone much guidance. All I can do is guard this shop, follow the gentleman’s example, fry a pan of beans, brew a pot of hot tea, and listen to people like you and me—people who stumble and struggle along the path of cultivation—speak of their troubles. Sometimes, saying them aloud is enough.”

“The gentleman once said he was merely someone who listened to stories. Now I have taken his place and will continue listening. This shop is a place in Flowing Cloud Immortal City where people can stop and catch their breath. So long as I, Lin Mu, still draw breath, this lamp will remain lit for you all.”

The young female cultivator was already in tears. She bowed deeply to Lin Mu and choked out, “Thank you for enlightening me, Senior. I…I understand now.”

She said nothing more. She simply finished a few of the beans in silence, then turned and left. Her back was still slender, but it had become much straighter.

Lin Mu watched her go, a trace of relieved delight appearing in his cloudy old eyes. He put away the clay dish, then resumed leisurely wiping his pill bottle, as though carrying out some kind of sacred ritual.

In the shadows at the mouth of the alley, Jiang Xiaobai’s eyes reddened. She sniffled softly. “Brother Lin Mu… He’s so old now…”

Jiang Yiyi was silent as well. She gazed at the small, warm general store, her heart filled with a thousand conflicting emotions. Suddenly, she understood what Father had meant all those years ago:

Fates arise and fade according to their appointed course.

They had planted a seed, never imagining that a century later it would truly grow into a little tree capable of shielding others from wind and rain.

Jiang Xiuyuan did not go forward to acknowledge Lin Mu.

He merely stood at a distance and took a long look at the general store, whose lights still shone despite the changes wrought by time. Then he looked at the white-haired old man who had carried the tradition of easing troubles onward.

An indescribable emotion welled up within him.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons he walked through the human world—not to change the world, but to leave behind, unintentionally, a tiny spark, then watch from afar as it burned after his departure, passed from one person to another, and illuminated the darkened corners.

“Let’s go,” Jiang Xiuyuan said softly.

He turned and led Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai once more into the ceaseless tide of people flowing through the immortal city.

Behind them, deep within Mud Bottle Alley, the light of that single lamp seemed warmer and brighter against the thickening night.