Unintended Immortality

During the three hottest periods in the summer, even midnight was cool.

With the windows open, a breeze flowed in.

In the center of the room stood a ceramic pot filled with fire wicks made by the neighbor next door. When lit, they didn’t produce an open flame but burned very slowly, emitting no sparks and giving off a herbal fragrance.

The Daoist lay on the cool mat, which should have felt refreshing, but unfortunately, he had a calico cat laying on him.

Ever since returning from Mount Beiqin, Lady Calico’s mouse-catching business had thrived again. However, to ensure sustainable mouse-catching while balancing study and rest, the Daoist had agreed with her to continue the previous arrangement: catching the mice from each household over five days, taking a two-day break after finishing with one household, and requesting leave when necessary.

Today was a scheduled day off, but the cat couldn't fully relax. First, it needed to devote more time to studying to maintain its facade of being a gifted cat.

Additionally, today marked Dashu, with the yang energy at its peak during the day. At night, both the moon and the yin qi were abundant.

Lady Calico cultivated her yin-yang spiritual energy, working hard during both day and night to absorb the essence of the sun and moon.

As midnight approached, she felt exhausted and not very energetic after finishing her training. However, having been on night duty for quite some time, the calico cat hadn’t really slept well for a long while. It wandered around the room and climbed on and off the bed, changing positions and locations repeatedly, until finally settling on the Daoist’s belly and drifting off to sleep.

The dream was quite simple.

It was early autumn.

In a small town at the foot of the mountains, a stone arch bridge spanned a gently flowing river, with dark willows swaying. It sat at the bridgehead, staring into the distance with confusion. In its line of sight, a young Daoist wearing a robe that was not as worn as it was now approached respectfully.

He had begged two small fish from an old fisherman, threaded them onto a willow branch, and brought them back as a betrothal gift for it.

The calico cat stared at him.

At that moment, it felt itself being embraced by someone and suddenly lifted off the ground. Then she was set back down.

The ground was icy and cool, just like the mat.

“...?” A mat?

The small town, the stone bridge, the morning mist—everything vanished. The willows, the fish—everything seemed to fade into darkness. Even it and the Daoist were gone.

Drowsily opening its eyes, it rubbed them with its paw. It found itself curled up on the mat, surrounded by darkness. In the dim light, the Daoist was getting out of bed and heading downstairs.

“Hmm…” The calico cat rubbed its eyes again.

So it was just a dream. It must have been sleeping on his belly, and when he got up, he simply moved it aside.

As it pondered this, the Daoist had already walked away.

“Hmm?” The calico cat groggily climbed to its feet.

***

The Daoist made his way downstairs in the dark. Moonlight streamed through the window, making it not too dark. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he sensed something was off.

Turning around to take a look, he saw a groggy calico cat was following him down the stairs, its steps unsteady and clearly lacking energy.

The Daoist paused, and it stopped as well.

He looked at it, and it looked up at him.

“What are you doing, Lady Calico?”

“What are you doing, Daoist Master?”

“I’m just going to the toilet.”

“Oh…”

“Why are you following me, Lady Calico?”

“Just hurry up…”

The calico cat could barely open its eyes and spoke in a sleepy tone, trying to encourage him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

“…”

The Daoist seemed speechless.

After finishing up in the toilet, he turned to head back. The cat, however, seemed completely oblivious to his frustration. It followed him back while feeling drowsy and continued to chat with him.

“Daoist Master.”

“Hmm…”

“Is today the Beginning of Autumn?”

“Today is the Dashu.”

“How long until the Beginning of Autumn then?”

“I mentioned to you before that there are still thirty days left, and you know how long that is.” His voice was gentle.

“Oh…” The calico cat then fell silent.

As a genius cat, Lady Calico knew exactly how long thirty days was. However, just because it knew didn’t mean it wouldn’t ask.

It lay down on the bed; the bamboo mat felt pleasantly cool, and the pillow filled with rice husks made a soft rustling sound. It wasn’t exactly soft, but it felt quite comfortable.

The calico cat didn’t crawl onto his belly this time but instead settled beside him, staring intently as she said,

“Daoist Master.”

“Hmm…”

“It seems I just had a dream.”

“What did you dream about?”

The calico cat tilted her head to look at him, her eyes wide open and round in the dark, but she wouldn’t speak.

The Daoist turned his head to give her a puzzled glance.

In the deep of night, with only a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the window, he could barely make out its dark shape. But it still didn’t respond, merely locking eyes with him.

“Do you not want to talk about it, Lady Calico?”

“I want to talk!”

“Then go ahead.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Then don’t.”

“Hmm…”

“Let’s sleep.”

“Hmm…”

“How about we explore the painting tomorrow?”

“Which painting?”

“Which other painting could it be?”

“Let’s go into the painting!”

“I’ve always wanted to go in and take a look.”

“Oh…”

“Let’s sleep.” The Daoist turned over and closed his eyes.

The cat kept its eyes wide open in the dark, sparkling and round. For a cat, enduring a long night was quite ordinary.

The next morning, the Daoist cooked a bowl of porridge and two eggs.

The calico cat was a great egg partner as she loved the egg yolk. This made her the perfect match for Song You, who preferred the egg whites but didn’t like the yolks. They shared the eggs, and everyone was happy.

After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the bowls and pots, the Daoist took the cat to the second floor, standing in front of the painting.

The painting in front of them hadn’t changed much from before.

The nearby reed grass, resembling a carpet, was interrupted by a small path leading toward the distant, sky-high Mount Cang.

At the foot of the mountain, a village could be seen with curling smoke. There were many patches of farmland at the junction of the village and the reeds, laid out in a grid pattern like a chessboard with varying shades of green and yellow, though there were already some changes since the first sight.

The more significant changes were the wild geese in the sky and the blue cattle on the ground.

It seemed that the content of the painting updated every time it was closed and reopened, and it also changed at dusk each day when no one was watching. When someone was looking, however, it would not change.

Notably, there was a calligraphy piece hanging at the top of the painting. The writing wasn’t particularly good but was fairly neat.

It read, “Thieves will lose control of their arm for a year.”

Recently, there had been several visits from jianghu bandits.

In the city, they didn’t dare to gather and cause trouble. If the imperial guards came, no one could escape. They also didn’t dare to confront the Daoist directly, often visiting when he went out or in the dead of night. However, the Daoist had placed multiple restrictions and spells on the painting and had even asked the calico cat to write a reminder for any thieves who might try to steal it.

If they disregarded the warning and touched it without permission, not only would they be unable to take the painting or harm the paper, but their arms would also go numb and unresponsive. As a result, many bandits who came would hastily flee, stumbling when they jumped out the window.

In recent days, fewer people had come to visit.

The Daoist stared at the painting in a daze; even after all this time, its spiritual resonance and mysteries still amazed him. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to step inside.

“Let’s go.”

“Let’s go!”

After the Daoist said one sentence, the cat echoed it.

Without using a brush, the Daoist simply reached out and lightly tapped the painting. Mysterious connections formed, and the spiritual resonance surged. The painting rippled as if it were no longer just an image but had transformed into a door, a window.

“Ladies first, Lady Calico.”

“Do I jump in?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You go first!”

“Alright, I’ll go first.”

“No! I go first!”

“…” The Daoist looked down at the cat, likely aware of her thoughts.

“Then we’ll go together.”

With that, Song You bent down gently and picked her up. He said nothing more, took a step forward, and transformed into a wisp of blue smoke before entering the painting.

As the scenery shifted, the seasons changed.

In a daze, the Daoist holding the cat found himself on the little path in the painting, surrounded by reeds taller than a person. Their white tassels were swaying in the wind, all bending in the same direction. The breeze carried the scents of earth and reeds, faintly infused with a hint of moisture.

The Daoist’s first thought was, How cooling!

While Changjing was experiencing the scorching summer, this place felt like deep autumn. Suddenly transitioning from the sweltering heat to this refreshing environment felt like stepping into an air-conditioned room on a hot summer day.

The breeze blew refreshingly.

The cat in the Daoist's arms had already opened her eyes wide, looking left and right.

The Daoist bent down to place her on the ground, casually pinching some soil from the earth. He brought it to his eyes, rubbing it between his fingers and examining it closely. After a moment, he returned the soil to the wind, then reached out to grasp a reed leaf that had been bent over by the breeze. He was still pinching it between two fingers to feel its texture, the leaf's coolness, its moisture, and the serrated edges.

The Daoist appeared to be deep in thought. Then, without hesitation, he turned to see what lay behind this painting, hidden from view.

But it was not empty. Instead, it was a lake, surrounded by a protective barrier.

The lake was vast, and with the fine weather, one could see the opposite shore, where there were clusters of towering mountains, likely a few li away. Near the shore of the lake, many reeds grew, and the water cypress trees flourishing in this season were ablaze with red, reflecting beautifully in the water, half blue and half red against the sky.

Gentle ripples danced across the surface, occasionally disturbed by the movement of fish and shrimp, creating circles of disturbance.

Numerous water birds soared through the air, gliding on the surface of the water. They dove in to catch prey, and occasionally called out.

“Ah!”

This was no mere painted world; it was clearly a real world.

The Daoist withdrew his gaze and looked up toward the distant blue mountains, resembling a towering wall. The village at the foot of the mountain could be faintly seen. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The Daoist immediately set off in that direction. Seeing this, the cat hurried to follow.

From outside the painting, the wall-like, rolling green mountains didn’t seem far. Now that he was among them, it still didn’t feel distant; he could only tell from experience that it was their immense size and the flatness of the land that made it seem so.

The Daoist was very patient, walking slowly.

As he walked, he paid close attention to this world.

Whether it was the wind blowing, the path beneath his feet, the reeds and other wild grasses around him, the small animals occasionally darting through the grass, the birds flying in the sky, or the changes in the world, he observed and recorded everything meticulously. The profound essence of the universe, the seasonal differences unique to this place compared to the outside world, all were captured in his understanding.