Immortal Road Worry-Free - Chapter 11:
Bai Yushuang watched in silence.
She said nothing as she followed the girl into the hills.
The path wound through thick trees,
and by the time they reached the far side, dusk had fallen.
The forest echoed with the croak of frogs and the hum of unseen insects.
After half an hour’s quiet walk, the girl stopped before a small hut made of reeds and straw.
Bai Yushuang perched lightly on a tree branch nearby, curious.
Inside the hut, a frail middle-aged man sat on the edge of a bed,
coughing so hard it seemed his breath might break apart.
The girl hurried to him with a small cup of water, her voice soft and steady.
Her father took a few shallow sips. His hands trembled.
The girl smiled faintly. She told him she had gathered herbs and
wild vegetables that morning and sold them in town for two copper coins.
The traps she’d set yesterday had caught nothing,
but she’d found three wild eggs instead.
Tonight, she said, she would cook him porridge with egg,
and afterward, he must remember to take his medicine.
The man’s coughing eased. The girl went to the small clay stove
and began preparing the meal.
Under a sky dusted with stars, Bai Yushuang remained on her perch,
watching quietly. Smoke rose from the hut in a gentle spiral,
fading into the silver night. In her clear,
deep eyes flickered an emotion she could not quite name.
The forest was peaceful until dawn.
When the first light touched the horizon, the east sky glowed pale like fish-belly white.
Birds began to stir. From her vantage high in the trees,
Bai Yushuang looked down. The girl was already awake,
washing her face in a wooden basin. Two boiled eggs sat cooling on the stove;
she ate one and wrapped the other for her father.
Then, with a small woven basket on her back,
she stepped quietly out of the hut, careful not to wake the man still sleeping inside.
She walked into the forest with the ease of someone who
knew every tree and bend by heart. Bai Yushuang followed like a whisper, light as mist.
The morning fog still clung to the undergrowth.
Moist air carried the scent of earth and crushed leaves.
The girl crouched and parted a clump of grass,
gathering several stems of yellow-flowered herbs.
Her fingers moved deftly and tenderly, as if afraid to disturb the living roots.
At times she drew a small knife from her basket,
digging near old tree trunks to unearth thick medicinal roots,
wrapping them carefully in white cloth before tucking them behind her.
She paused often listening to bird calls, studying footprints in the mud
before following a faint path deeper into the forest.
Before long she reached a clearing.
There, tangled in her snare from the day before,
a pheasant struggled helplessly. A spark of joy lit her eyes.
With practiced movements she untied the cord,
bound the bird’s wings with a vine, and placed it gently into her basket.
Then she turned toward the valley, heading downhill.
As the fog lifted, a narrow stone path came into view,
leading from the mountain foot toward the plains.
Low stone walls lined the roadside, and bamboo fences leaned beneath the weight of dew.
Farmers passed with yokes and buckets, oxen pulling slow carts creaking along the road.
Beyond the fields lay a small coastal town.
It was not large, yet full of life. Grey-tiled roofs lined both sides of the main street,
each eave hung with red lanterns swaying softly in the breeze.
At the corner well, women drew water and washed
clothes while children splashed and laughed nearby.
A stone-paved street wound toward the center,
where early shops had already opened
the cloth merchant, the salt seller, the apothecary,
the blacksmith hammering sparks in his forge.
Peddlers called out from beneath makeshift awnings,
their voices mingling with the scent of fresh vegetables and smoke from cooking fires.
The girl walked among them with her basket, nodding politely to those who greeted her.
She reached a small general store at the end of the street and
traded her wild vegetables and pheasant for a few coins,
a bit of rice, and a pinch of salt.
The shopkeeper, an old man with kind eyes,
praised her catch and handed her five coins in payment.
She thanked him with a smile that was both bright and resolute.
Then she bought a small piece of pork fat wrapped in oiled paper and
tucked it carefully into her basket. Though her frame was slight,
her steps were steady and proud.
A few children still whispered behind her back,
pointing and laughing at the birthmark on her cheek,
but she did not flinch. She only tightened her grip on the basket and walked on,
silent and unwavering.
From the rooftop of an abandoned house at the edge of town,
Bai Yushuang watched it all.
She had never seen a world like this so fragile, yet so alive.
The mortals here knew nothing of spiritual energy or cultivation,
yet they carried on with quiet purpose.
Their lives were brief and bound by hardship,
but they burned with a warmth no immortal ever possessed.
For several days she remained there,
sitting upon the roof with her legs folded beneath her,
weightless as mist. Morning smoke drifted through the streets,
mixing with the scent of boiled greens and dawn air.
Wrapped in a pale blue robe, her presence blended into the breeze,
unnoticed by any mortal eye.
And for the first time, Bai Yushuang began to wonder if perhaps
there was a kind of strength hidden in this fragile, fleeting world.