Unintended Immortality

The Daoist walked intermittently, his pace slow.

The cat, on the other hand, took cheerful little steps. It also moved forward and stopped frequently. It often scampered ahead, then fell back again.

If it lagged behind a bit, once the Daoist had gone far, it would stretch its neck to look for him. If it couldn’t see him, it would hurry to catch up. If it reached in front of him, it would often stop and glance back. Seeing he hadn’t caught up, it would have to wait.

“Daoist Master!” The cat called out as it waited for the Daoist to catch up, lifting its head high, following the waterbirds flying overhead with its gaze while shouting at him.

“Hmm?”

“Are we going to find Sir Dou?”

“Lady Calico, you’re quite clever; I admire you,” the Daoist said patiently, still immersed in the world of the painting.

“But where is he?”

“That’s a good question.”

The mountains were magnificent, their bases far away. From the size visible in the painting, they stretched at least several dozen li from left to right. Now, looking again, his gaze seemed not limited to the painting; it could extend beyond it—just like when he had first entered the painting and had been able to see a lake that wasn’t there before.

Now, when looking north and south, there were towering mountains absent from the painting. He wondered if it was possible to walk out, and if so, where would it lead?

In any case, within the painted area, the mountains stretched dozens of li at their base with scattered villages of varying heights, housing tens of thousands of people. How could one know where Master Dou lived? n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“If we can’t find him, then so be it,” the Daoist said to the cat.

“Oh…” The cat didn’t seem to mind much, shaking its head and trotting ahead to chase after some bugs.

Song You raised his hand, letting his fingers glide over the clusters of reed tassels as he walked.

Finally, they reached the end. Ahead lay vast fields of fertile soil.

The farmland extended from the edge of the reeds all the way to the foot of the distant mountains. The fields and dirt looked like a chessboard, with ridges and small paths crisscrossing, and occasionally, someone could be seen walking on them.

It seemed there really were people…

The Daoist did not quicken his pace, moving steadily along the path. It wasn’t until he encountered an old man herding a cow back that he gave a polite greeting, “old sir.”

The old man turned upon hearing the voice, surprised to see a Daoist in a robe. “A Daoist master? You seem unfamiliar!”

“I am new to this place, so it’s natural I appear unfamiliar.”

Upon hearing this, the old man looked ahead at the towering mountains, then redirected his gaze to the Daoist. “Is this your first time descending the mountain? But I often go up the mountain; how come I haven’t seen you before?”

Song You followed the old man’s gaze.

It sounded like there was indeed a Daoist temple on that mountain, and it seemed that this was the only Daoist temple around.

“I came from outside to visit an old friend.”

“From outside!?” The old man was instantly taken aback, his eyes widening as he stared at him.

“Indeed,” the Daoist answered truthfully.

The old man’s sunken eyes fixed on him, then glanced at the cat beside him before he asked, “How did you get in? Where did you come in from?”

“Is it rare for outsiders to come here?”

“This is a place beyond the world; how could outsiders come in?”

“It’s quite a coincidence, really.”

Seeing that he was quite old and was very surprised and, fearing that he might become too agitated, he could only bow and say, “My surname is Song, and my name is You. I cultivate in Yizhou and am certainly not a bad person. I find it quite astonishing to be here and would like to ask you, old sir, about the situation in this place.”

“Ah!” The old man gasped.

It was indeed a rare occurrence for outsiders to arrive, and seeing the Daoist’s calm demeanor and appropriate manner of speaking made him feel that he was not an ordinary person, likely a high-level cultivator.

The old man’s tone turned more respectful.

“Where do you intend to go?”

“I’m not quite sure for now.”

“Then please, Daoist Master, come with me. We can talk as we walk; it would be a pleasure to host you,” the old man said, gesturing for him to follow while holding onto the cow’s rope.

“How could I trouble you, old sir?”

“Why not? Come, come!”

“Then, don’t mind if I do.” The Daoist didn’t dare refuse and bowed again. He then followed the old man while asking, “I’m quite astonished to find myself here. May I ask what kind of place this is?”

“It doesn’t have a name.”

“What about this mountain?”

“We simply call it Mount Cang.”

“How many villages are there at the foot of the mountain?”

“There are probably dozens, big and small. I live in a small village to the north; just keep walking straight ahead.”

“Since you say this is a place beyond the world, I wonder when you all arrived here. Have you lived here for generations?”

“According to the old folks, they came here in the early years of the Great Yan dynasty. At that time, there were only houses, but no one lived here,” the old man said, leading the green cow along, stooping as he walked. “They said it was to escape some war or tax. Later, we settled down here.”

It seemed they were quite unfamiliar with wars and taxes.

“Have there been outsiders in recent years?”

“I’ve heard of a few instances where outsiders came,” the old man replied. “I remember two times; once when I was still young, dozens of people came in from outside, and they seem to be living over in Niang’er Village now. The other time was when I was younger; I heard about over a hundred people coming in, and they seem to be living at the southernmost point.”

“Is that so…” The Daoist nodded.

It appeared that the people here weren’t just conjured out of thin air but were descendants of the Dou family who had been brought in from outside for various reasons over the generations.

“These outsiders came to escape disasters, whether from wars or other troubles. When asked how they got in, they couldn’t answer. We are hospitable people, and since there’s plenty of space here, we welcomed them and helped them settle down,” the old man said. “From them, we can learn a lot about what’s happening outside.”

“Life outside must not be as good as it is here.”

“Indeed! I’ve heard that outside, people have to give their harvested grain to others and have to fight with knives and swords, risking their lives.” The old man shook his head. He paused, then continued, “But while this place is nice, I’ve also heard it’s very different from the outside.”

“How is it different?” Song You quickly cupped his hands in greeting. “I would appreciate your guidance, old sir.”

“Here, every year is the same; there are no hot or cold days, and it’s all daytime with no night. I’ve heard that outside, it gets dark every day. Is that true?”

“Indeed.”

“Then when it gets dark, you can’t go out to farm, right?”

“Generally, when it gets dark, we go to sleep.”

“Does everyone sleep at the same time?”

“Yes.” The Daoist answered calmly, as if not surprised at all.

“Is that true?”

“Seems it’s not like that here?”

“We sleep when we want and wake when we want. In some places, they have to strike bells or drums. When the drums beat, we sleep, and when the bells ring, we wake. We just pull up the curtains.” The old man seemed quite astonished by what Song You said. “But the other outsiders who came here said the same.”

“What about the crops?”

“The crops are still planted and grow very quickly, but they can only be grown in those fields over there. If planted elsewhere, they won’t grow, and they definitely can’t be planted in the reed fields behind.”

“Why can’t they be planted in the reed fields?”

“The reeds over there are enchanted; they only grow that way—neither more nor less. They don’t turn green, and they can’t be cut down, let alone used for planting anything.”

“I see.”

“It’s quite strange!” The old man chuckled. “Some say this is a divine immortal’s garden, and others say we live within a painting. Heh heh, how could there possibly be a divine immortal?”

“Indeed.” The Daoist nodded with a smile and then asked, “Is it possible to walk out of here?”

“You can’t walk out; it’s eighty-one li from this side to that side,” the old man replied, pointing first to the right and then to the front. “The furthest you can go behind is to the lakeside, but you can’t go into the lake. The furthest you can go in front is to climb to the top of that mountain, but you can’t cross over. I’ve heard it’s eighteen li long.”

“Do you have to live here?”

“Not necessarily…”

“Why not necessarily?”

“I’ve heard that sometimes people manage to walk across, but I don’t know why. They just walk over and then disappear, never to return.” The old man shook his head as he spoke. “No one knows where they went.”

“No wonder there’s a fence by the lake.”

“Exactly…”

As the old man spoke, he sized up the young Daoist.

He noticed that no matter how he described things, this Daoist, who claimed to come from the outside world, remained calm and composed, seemingly unfazed. In contrast, he himself, having heard about the outside world, was genuinely surprised by the stories the Daoist told. The difference between them was quite stark.

The old man became even more certain of his earlier suspicions. Thus, he spoke freely and exhaustively.

The Daoist began to understand this place a bit better.

Here, there was only late autumn, no four seasons; only daytime, no nighttime; the east-west distance was eighteen li, and the north-south distance was eighty-one li. It wasn’t small, but it couldn’t be considered vast either, and the population was far from saturated.

There seemed to be a barrier at the edges that couldn’t be crossed, yet occasionally someone could slip through, though no one knew where they went.

As they chatted and walked, they approached the village.

Looking around, one could see neatly arranged houses, with beautiful ponds and mulberry trees, and the sounds of chickens crowing and dogs barking filled the air.

Some people were tilling the fields, some were carrying baskets to pick vegetables; others were holding bowls to eat, while some had just woken up. Each person seemed to be enjoying themselves, with very few showing signs of sorrow.

The old man was dressed in work clothes, which didn’t stand out much. However, upon entering the village, the Daoist noticed that the clothing of the young men and women, while generally similar to what was found in the outside world, had subtle differences.

For instance, the trendy accessories that had become popular in recent years in the outside world were nowhere to be seen here.

As the Daoist walked and observed, he asked the old man beside him if anyone had come in recently, but the old man shook his head, indicating he didn’t know.

The Daoist had initially intended to look for Sir Dou, but given the vastness of the area, finding someone proved difficult. The old man, being very hospitable, invited him to his home as a guest.

The Daoist hesitated for a moment but didn’t want to decline too forcefully, so he accepted the invitation and followed him to his home.

The old man’s family consisted of seven members. Upon hearing that the Daoist had come from the outside world, they were very warm and welcoming. They prepared a feast of wine and chicken to entertain him, and even offered him a place to stay for the night.

Everyone engaged him in casual conversation, asking about the affairs of the outside world. They were constantly amazed whenever they heard about the differences, as if they could hardly imagine a world like that of the outside.