Immortal Road Worry-Free - Chapter 15:
The morning mist had not yet lifted from the mountains.
Dew clung to slender blades of grass,
shimmering as sunlight filtered through the canopy in shifting patterns of gold and green.
From somewhere deep within the forest came the soft, wistful call of birds.
Bai Yushuang walked ahead, her pale garments untouched by dust,
her bearing serene and pure. Behind her,
Little Chun followed closely, a small bamboo basket strapped to her back.
Her steps were quick but steady, each one showing quiet determination.
From time to time she bent down to gather a familiar herb, placing it gently into her basket.
Bai Yushuang paused beside a cluster of low purple blossoms.
What herb is this one, she asked lightly, turning her head.
Little Chun hurried to her side and peered closer.
This is Purpleleaf Sage, she said eagerly. It clears heat from the lungs and eases coughing.
My father used to brew it into tea when his chest grew tight.
Bai Yushuang nodded. You are right. But its nature is slightly cool.
Used alone, it may harm the stomach and spleen.
It must be balanced with Huangjing root or loquat leaves to temper its chill.
Her voice was calm, deliberate. She plucked the plant up by its roots and
held it in her slender fingers, pointing to the faint color near the stem for the girl to see.
Little Chun’s eyes shone with fascination. She nodded again and again,
committing every word to memory.
They walked on, and soon came upon some poisonous
plants scattered beneath a shaded rock. Bai Yushuang did not avoid the subject.
Instead, she knelt and touched one with crimson-edged leaves.
This is Bl00d-spot Fungus. It is toxic. Boil the cap in wine,
and it can be used externally to ease pain. Swallowed by mistake, it will kill.
Why do you know even poisons so well, asked Little Chun, tilting her head.
For a long moment Bai Yushuang said nothing.
Then softly, as if to herself, she answered, If a healer cannot recognize poison,
how can she hope to save lives. Her tone was light,
yet the words took root in the young girl’s heart like a seed destined to bloom into conviction.
As they gathered herbs, Bai Yushuang taught not only the shapes
of leaves but the rhythm of the land the way soil and
shade nurture each root, the scent that reveals a plant’s potency,
the signs of when to harvest and when to wait.
Little Chun listened with shining eyes, her once-timid heart slowly
nourished by this new knowledge and the quiet sense of purpose it carried.
By dusk, the sky burned crimson, painting the mountains in molten light.
The two descended the slope with baskets full of herbs.
Little Chun’s voice bubbled with excitement as she asked questions,
and Bai Yushuang replied in her calm, melodic tone stern like a teacher,
gentle like an elder sister.
For Bai Yushuang, this day was more than an act of teaching or healing.
It was her first true walk among mortals, not as
a distant immortal but as a person feeling, sharing,
learning what it meant to tread the same soil.
Her steps no longer floated weightless through the world.
They pressed into the earth, gathering dust and the warmth of human life.
When the sun slipped behind the ridge, they returned to the small thatched hut.
From a distance, Bai Yushuang saw a stout woman standing by the doorway,
arms crossed, her face twisted in displeasure.
Little Chun froze. Her complexion turned pale as paper. She whispered weakly, Auntie.
The woman strode forward, her voice sharp and grating like metal on stone.
Little Chun, where have you been wandering all day.
You didn’t bring the rent yesterday, and now you disappear again.
Do you think this house is free for beggars.
Little Chun lowered her head at once. I’m sorry,
Auntie. My father fell ill last night, I couldn’t go to the market.
I went to the mountains early today to gather herbs. I didn’t mean to neglect the rent.
The woman snorted, her eyes sliding to the basket full of herbs,
greed flickering in their depths. You can talk sweetly all you like.
Your mother’s long dead, your father’s half in the grave.
If my husband and I didn’t have kind hearts,
you’d already be sleeping in the ditch. And now you dare delay the rent.
She stepped closer, voice rising, reaching for the basket on the girl’s back.
These herbs can fetch a few coins. They’ll cover your rent well enough.
Bai Yushuang finally spoke. Her tone was quiet, yet it cut through the air like frost.
These herbs belong to me. They are not yours to take.
The woman blinked, startled, and only then noticed the
stranger beside Little Chun. The fading light touched
Bai Yushuang’s face, and for a heartbeat the world seemed to still
beauty too sharp to belong to dust or flesh. The woman faltered.
Who are you supposed to be. This is my husband’s property.
I have every right to collect rent. You’re no one here, so keep your nose out of our business.
Bai Yushuang’s voice remained calm. This hut is barely standing,
no more than a shelter of grass and wood. It leaks in the rain and burns in the summer heat.
You say it belongs to your husband do you have proof of ownership.
The questions fell one after another, leaving the woman speechless.
She flustered and stammered, then tried to recover her bluster.
A place like this doesn’t need papers. It’s been ours for years.
We only lent it out out of kindness. If they can’t pay, they can leave.
Sensing trouble, Little Chun hurried to stand between them.
Auntie, please, I’ll sell the herbs tomorrow morning.
I promise to bring you the money. My father still needs these for his medicine.
Please don’t take them.
The woman’s eyes darted nervously to Bai Yushuang, whose cold,
unearthly calm made her shrink back. Muttering curses,
she turned away, grumbling as she left, If I don’t see the rent tomorrow,
you’ll both be out. Don’t test my patience.
Her voice trailed into the dusk. The last words drifted back on the wind
like mother, like daughter, poor fools pretending to be noble.
When she was gone, Little Chun’s shoulders sagged.
She stared at the ground and spoke in a small, trembling voice.
I’m sorry, Sister. You must think this pathetic.
I really do work hard, but this house… my aunt let us stay only
because my father begged her before he fell sick.
She said we had to pay rent every month or we’d be thrown out.
So I gather herbs and hunt small game each day, just to keep us here.
Bai Yushuang looked at the girl in silence, her eyes softening.
In this faint light, she saw the fragile courage that allowed even the
smallest flame to survive the storm.
And as night slowly settled over the mountain, the immortal who once
drifted above all sorrow felt, for the first time, the quiet ache
and beauty of simply being human.