Chapter 43: Remember to Take the Stairs

In the city, crowds surge, yet most souls remain lonely.

This is the shackle innate to the uniqueness of individual existence and the limitations of human perception.

Li Wanyin, who had gone the entire day without speaking to anyone, finally experienced what it felt like to have a proper conversation during the hour after Chen Shian returned home.

Relaxed and free, with no entanglements of interest, no schemes, no clash of values, no criticism or judgment—such an easy state of conversation was something she found addictive.

It was clear to the naked eye that the cheerful, relaxed woman before him was utterly different from the tense, dim figure she had been when she came home from work.

If only she had some money in her pocket, Li Wanyin would have liked to buy a clock from the little Taoist, just to have him stay and talk with her a little longer.

Unnoticed, it was already eleven o’clock.

Contented, Li Wanyin took the initiative to end the conversation.

“It’s eleven now. I’m going back to my room. Shian, you should rest early too. By the way, are there any mosquitoes in your room? I have some repellent.”

“It’s fine, mosquitoes don’t bite me. I’ll head to bed as well.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Sister Wanyin.”

Both rose from the sofa. Li Wanyin picked up the remote and turned off the TV. After Chen Shian and the cat entered their room and closed the door, she switched off the fan and the light in the living room before returning to her own room, closing the door softly behind her.

Just like the previous night, Chen Shian neither turned on the air conditioner nor closed the window. He stood by the window, gazing out at the night sky. At least for the next few days, the weather would hold and there would be no rain.

Back in the mountains, he would usually turn in by nine; seldom did he stay up as late as eleven.

But as things stood, going to bed after eleven seemed likely to become the norm.

“Each day I reflect on myself three times. Fei Mo, did you reflect today?”

“Meow.”

Chen Shian lay down, pulled the sheet over himself.

The black cat stretched and yawned, curled up by his pillow, its dark fur blending into the shadows. Only when it opened its eyes could one even sense it was there.

At midnight, the light leaking from under Li Wanyin’s door finally went out.

The night grew silent...

...

Though life in the city kept him up later than on the mountain, when dawn barely tinged the sky at five o’clock, Chen Shian awoke as usual.

Compared to the discomfort of yesterday morning, he was better adjusted today.

He was a little sleepy from less rest, but it was nothing significant; a short session of quiet meditation would restore him to his best state.

Meditation could, to some extent, substitute for sleep, but Chen Shian rarely did so. Being of mortal flesh and blood, prematurely severing the natural sensations of being human was not necessarily a good thing for the cultivation of the Dao. Substituting a midday nap was permissible, but not as a matter of course.

The growth of spiritual power did not rely solely on meditation. More important was whether one could comprehend the workings of the Dao, harmonize one’s nature with the Great Way, and thereby naturally gather the energies of heaven and earth.

Even while eating, sleeping, walking, or studying, this quiet accumulation continued.

Meditation merely accelerated the process; it could not alter the ceiling for the growth of one’s cultivation. It was like a bottle—how much spiritual power it could ultimately contain depended on the cultivator’s innate talent and depth of understanding of the Dao.

Thus, when spiritual power reached a bottleneck, one would go into seclusion—closing the door to contemplate the Dao and seek to raise that upper limit.

The opposite of seclusion was traveling to train. But both led to the same goal: understanding the Dao.

The use of supernatural powers, in the end, was merely borrowing the rules and energies already present in the universe. Depending on one’s cultivation, the extent of what could be achieved varied from person to person.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Chen Shian meditated for a while, and the fatigue and grogginess from insufficient sleep vanished, leaving him in his optimal state.

He opened his eyes.

A butterfly was fluttering about the room.

It had likely flown in last night because the window was left open.

The black cat’s gaze followed it, itching to pounce—for although butterflies were not tasty, they were certainly fun to chase.

Before Fei Mo could spring, Chen Shian beckoned toward the butterfly. An invisible force seemed to hold it, and though it tried to escape, it drifted uncontrollably toward him.

Chen Shian did not exorcise it, but simply caught it and, walking to the window, released it outside.

After letting the butterfly go, he lingered by the window, taking in the city’s morning.

The sky was gray and hazy, the air heavy; when he drew it into his lungs, he felt as though it was laden with something indescribable—not like the wind at the temple, carrying the scent of pine needles and dew, a breath of which could clear one’s mind to the very brow.

From below came the clatter of garbage bins being dragged. Looking down, Chen Shian saw a sanitation worker emptying trash. There were people in the city who rose even earlier than he did.

The routine of moving between two points was not to his liking. He decided not to read this morning but, with time before class, to go out for a run.

He put on his shoes, picked up his keys, hesitated at the ninth-floor balcony, noticed the surveillance cameras nearby, and finally chose to take the stairs like a law-abiding citizen.

“Meow?”

“I’m going out for a stroll, Fei Mo. Want to join me?”

“Meow.”

The fat cat was nothing like him when it came to using the stairs.

Though round as a little pig, its agility was astonishing.

The black cat leapt onto the balcony, hunched, wiggled its hindquarters, and sprang into the air like an arrow. It arced gracefully, landing precisely on the vertical wall beside the balcony, scampered down as if on level ground, and in the blink of an eye reached the second floor. There, it bounced off the balcony for leverage and soared again, finally landing as lightly as a feather on the concrete below.

Downstairs, Fei Mo did not wait for the little Taoist to descend the stairs. With its tail high and steps unhurried, it sauntered out of the compound, as if it knew every corner. It had explored the neighborhood thoroughly just yesterday.

Before long, familiar footsteps sounded behind.

Chen Shian emerged at an easy pace, though in fact, his running speed was anything but slow.

The compound was quiet a little after five. Besides the sanitation workers, hardly any residents were about.

Man and cat ran together, soon reaching the gate.

In the security booth, the guard who had spent the night playing on his phone and scrolling through endless TikTok videos finally yawned, fixed himself a cup of bitterly strong tea, and sat on a bench outside, cigarette dangling from his lips.

Cats did not use the door—even with it right there, the black cat insisted on leaping over the wall beside it.

The security guard was stunned—what was that black blur dashing by? A huge rat?

Before he could get up for a better look, a young man in a sweat-soaked shirt ran out.

This was an old compound with loose management. The main gate was usually half-open, closed only at night and early morning, requiring a keycard to enter.

Chen Shian paused at the gate and took out his card.

The guard reminded him, “No need to swipe out, just press the button next to you.”

“This one?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.”

“Out for a run, young man? Up so early!”

“Yes, I just moved in. Thought I’d look around.”

“No wonder you looked unfamiliar.”

The security uncle smiled, not recognizing this as the Taoist who’d entered the other day. He just thought the young man’s plain shirt was just like his own father’s—no, his father’s style!

In fact, Chen Shian looked about the same age as his son, but his son would never get up so early to run. If he saw his son at this hour during vacation, it was more likely he hadn’t slept yet.

“How should I address you, sir?” Chen Shian was always easy-going, able to chat with anyone. Despite having lived atop a mountain, he knew all the aunts and uncles at its foot—and even their dog, Da Huang. He even knew whose kid got constipated from eating too many wild berries.

Now, in a new environment, he’d have to rebuild his network of neighborhood relationships. He didn’t seek any benefit from it—only a sense of natural harmony, a mindset so different from the city’s typical “not knowing your next-door neighbor.”

“My surname’s Zheng.”

Seeing the young man so friendly, the guard grinned. After so many years in the city, it had been ages since he’d met such a traditionally mannered young fellow.

“Chen Shian.”

Even his name was nothing like the modern “Zixuan” or “Zihan”—not only did he dress like his father’s generation, even his name sounded like it belonged to them!

“You must still be in school? Where do you study?”

“Yunqi No. 1 High, right next door.”

The guard’s eyes brightened. “You must have good grades! My son’s about your age, but he couldn’t even get into the high school back in our hometown. Same generation, yet such a difference. The other day I saw a Taoist about your age, looked about as tall as you ...”

The more the guard spoke, the more he felt the young man looked familiar.

“The Taoist Uncle Zhao mentioned was probably me,” said Chen Shian.

“Ha! So it was!”

The guard slapped his thigh, but before he could continue, the little Taoist had already started running outside the compound.

“I’m off,” Chen Shian called—whether to him or someone else, it wasn’t clear.

A black shadow darted out of some corner to his side—the same one the guard had mistaken for a huge rat.

This time he saw it clearly.

A black cat.

A black cat that actually ran alongside people!

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(Thanks to Yunchen Xia Tian for the character card reward of eighty thousand! Thank you so much for your continued support!)