Chapter 3: The Taoist Descends the Mountain

All the way down the mountain, Chen Shian would pause from time to time, lingering over the sights. It was the first time he had so earnestly examined the place where he had lived for eighteen years.

His master was a reclusive and indolent Taoist, and Chen Shian was not much different. The farthest he had ever traveled was merely to the outskirts of the small town at the foot of the mountain. Normally, the pair relied solely on their own legs to get around. If one drew a circle with Pure Dust Temple as the center and a four-hour walk as the radius, that would encompass the entirety of Chen Shian's world over the years.

Unlike many of his peers, who had grown up immersed in phones, computers, social networks, and games, Chen Shian had, from as far back as he could remember, followed his master in learning Taoist arts, studying scripture, reading the classics, and cultivating his character. These pursuits had shaped him and made him who he was.

To say he felt no curiosity about the outside world would be a lie; yet to claim he was eager to venture out was not quite accurate either.

Even now, as he walked the road down the mountain, his thoughts were more about "taking a look around, getting a diploma, then returning to the mountains to continue his hermit’s life."

Chen Shian took out his phone to check the time. This device was perhaps the only thing on him that clashed with his temperament. When on the mountain, he could go half a year without touching his phone, but in the modern world, traveling without one was nearly impossible.

He wasn’t ignorant of how to use it—just used it sparingly, unlike his master, who truly couldn’t make heads or tails of the little gadget. It was an old model, with only 32GB of storage. Heavy users would scoff at such capacity, claiming it couldn't even hold two games, but for Chen Shian, it was enough to check the time, make calls, take photos, use maps, and pay for things.

He had none of the popular apps like WeChat, Douyin, or QQ—he had few contacts and little need for mobile data. Up in the mountain’s remote corners, he was already grateful to have electricity; who could expect broadband or Wi-Fi?

He did, however, have Alipay. Whenever his master needed some odd item that couldn’t be bought nearby, Chen Shian would help him order it online. As for deliveries, there was no hope of couriers climbing up the mountain—all packages were left at a little shop at the foot, and Chen Shian had to fetch them himself when he could.

Food delivery was out of the question; the area was so remote that even the village at the base didn’t have such a service.

In truth, Chen Shian had attended elementary school—at the tiny village school with only about a dozen pupils. But he went for only a week before never returning. The journey from the mountaintop to the school took an hour or two, and perhaps because he was precocious, Chen Shian found his classmates to be like a tribe of little monkeys—clear-eyed, but all foolishness, unable to understand the lessons and obsessed with childish antics meant to attract adult attention. Even the teacher seemed nothing more than a more advanced tape recorder.

Maybe it was because schoolwork was too easy for him that he quickly lost interest and simply quit, never setting foot in another classroom. His master didn’t insist, letting him do as he pleased.

Looking back, his master might have been a competent teacher, but as a child-rearer he was hopeless. Had this been a modern family, a boy who dared skip school in elementary would have been punished soundly!

He had never gone through the nine years of compulsory education, had no phone addiction, and lived year-round in seclusion. These things, unimaginable to his peers, were just ordinary life to Chen Shian.

Now, about to descend the mountain and experience the splendor of the big city, Chen Shian felt none of the nervousness or inferiority that plagued other country children. One’s state of mind shapes the scenery one sees. Chen Shian even fancied, with a hint of arrogance, that this was not a descent from the mountains, but a descent to the mortal world.

After checking the time, Chen Shian put his phone away. There was still a trace of signal at the mountaintop, but halfway down the mountain, the bars vanished completely.

For outsiders, getting lost in this vast mountain was nothing unusual. But Chen Shian needed no navigation. It was already seven in the morning and he had been walking for nearly an hour without realizing it. In another half hour or so, he would reach the village at the foot.

The Xuanyue Mountain range sprawled far and wide, and the unremarkable Pure Dust Temple was nestled in a fold on the northern ridge. To reach the city, one first had to descend to the village, then travel by car or on foot to the town, take a forty-minute ride to the county seat, and another forty minutes to the city. The whole journey took at least four or five hours.

Walking such a long way alone, without his master, was fine at first, but after a while, a touch of loneliness crept in. Fortunately, his backpack contained a cat, and Chen Shian began talking to the black feline.

“Fat Ink.”

“...”

“Pick Ink?”

“Meow?”

“Can’t you eat fewer mice and lose some weight? You’re getting too heavy for me to carry.”

The black cat didn’t respond, only leapt out of the backpack, bounding along at his side. Yet the bag’s weight remained unchanged. Chen Shian realized it wasn’t the cat that was heavy, but the set of “Five Years Gaokao, Three Years Simulations” tucked inside.

“Don’t wander off. Once we’re out of this mountain, you’ll be a city cat. Behave yourself, or folks will say I’m keeping a little black monkey.”

“Meow.”

“I heard city cats eat cat food. Want to try some?”

“...”

The black cat, annoyed, ignored him. So Chen Shian continued his monologue as he walked, and the path down the mountain gradually became livelier.

From time to time, farmhouses appeared in the distance, and faint barks echoed through the air. As the young Taoist drew near, the big yellow dogs would narrow their eyes and wag their tails, clearly old friends with Chen Shian. But when the black cat came close, the dogs immediately bared their teeth and barked furiously.

The black cat was unperturbed, even provoking the dogs by strutting right up to them. The leashes grew taut, the barking thundered, but the dogs’ teeth never touched a hair on the feline.

“Don’t be a pest. Let’s go.”

“Meow.”

Passing the village entrance, Chen Shian ran into Aunt Li from the west end, riding an electric tricycle to market, her cargo bed piled with winter melons.

“Aunt Li.”

“Oh, Shian! Where are you off to?”

“I’m going to the city to study.”

“...Huh?” The farmwife didn’t quite understand, but her hearty enthusiasm was undiminished. “Want a ride? Auntie can take you to the town to catch your bus!”

“No need, Auntie. I’m afraid your melons will arrive at the market before me,” Chen Shian replied with a smile, politely declining. The tricycle rattled and clanked except for the bell, its cargo gate bound with wire. When Aunt Li twisted the throttle, the whole vehicle shook as if in a fit, the melons bouncing as if at a disco, threatening to tumble out and smash his toes. There was hardly room for a passenger.

In the end, Uncle Wang from the town clinic gave him a lift. The white van snaked along the mountain roads, while Chen Shian and the cat watched the trees flash by.

“How are you holding up? Not used to riding in a car—feeling carsick?”

“I’m alright, thank you, Uncle Wang.”

“Ah, it’s nothing! So, Shian, now that you’re going down the mountain, when will you be back?”

“Hard to say. I’ll try for university first, then see what comes next. By the way, Uncle, my master owed you quite a bit for herbs. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for him.”

“No, no! Your master prayed for my son and helped with my mother’s funeral. He refused to take money, only asking for a bottle of glucose. How could I charge you for a few herbs?”

Such a response was exactly what Chen Shian expected. It seemed the goodwill of his master’s creditors at the funeral was genuine—the debts were long since repaid through his skill.

“Still, business is business, Uncle.”

“Ai, you really are just like your master...”

With the ride, Chen Shian was spared much hardship. Uncle Wang dropped him off right at the bus station in town.

“Shian, this is as far as I go. From here, take a bus to the county seat, then transfer to the city’s main station. After that, I’m not too sure, but I’m sure a young man like you will manage.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Wang. I know the way.”

“Here, take this bottle of glucose for the road.”

“No need, Uncle. I’ve got water.”

“Take it, take it! A Taoist with glucose—his spiritual power will last longer!”

“...”

...