Unintended Immortality
Chapter 475: Farewell to Yangdu

Chapter 475: Farewell to Yangdu

The rain had barely stopped before the skies turned clear again. A rainbow arched across the sky, lingering for a long time.

For the next several days, the sun shone relentlessly. Each day grew hotter than the last, and after the rain, the cicadas began to emerge. At first, their calls were scattered, but soon they became a continuous chorus, buzzing through the city. Under the glaring sunlight, Yangdu was bathed in golden light—it already felt like summer.

Song You sat cross-legged under the eaves, alone. The cicadas' cries only made the world feel quieter.

The midday sun was relentless, making the afternoon drowsy. The entire city of Yangdu seemed to have turned into an empty shell, with only him sitting here.

The courtyard was no longer as desolate as it had been when he first arrived last year.

Jointgrasses and cattails thrived wildly. Along the walls, suanqie grew, their small green and red lantern-like fruits hanging like decorations. Peppers lined the other side of the yard, their plants now dotted with tiny blossoms, like scattered stars. In the open space, small green onions sprouted, their leaves swaying as tiny butterflies, no larger than a fingernail, flitted among them.

Fortunately, Lady Calico had taken her manuscript to be published.

Had she still been in the courtyard, few of these little creatures would have escaped her grasp.

Just as he had this thought, a sudden sound reached his ears.

“Clack.”

The wooden latch on the courtyard door fell open by itself. Then, with a slow creak, the gate swung open.

A little girl walked inside, a pouch slung across her body. Her face remained expressionless as usual, but her eyes shone brightly.

Her steps were light, and her head swayed slightly as she walked, as if she were in an exceptionally good mood.

She glanced curiously at the Daoist sitting under the eaves but said nothing. Instead, she walked straight toward him.

“I'm back!”

“Did your trip go smoothly?” Song You lifted his gaze to her.

“My trip was very smooth!” the girl replied. “Congratulate me!”

“Congratulations to you, Lady Calico.”

“That Mr. Liao fellow said my writing is very good...”

“Thank me.”

“Hmm?” The little girl froze for a moment, tilting her head at the Daoist in confusion.

It took her a moment before she hesitantly spoke again,

“Thank you, Daoist priest...”

“You're welcome.”

“You... you...”

“That Mr. Liao fellow said your writing is very good.” Song You remained cross-legged under the eaves, his demeanor calm and composed like that of an enlightened master. He lifted his head and looked at the little girl, his tone light as he said, “Lady Calico, please continue your story.”

“That Mr. Liao fellow said my writing is very good. He said it’s very interesting and a joy to read. So he agreed to help print it for me to sell and make some money.”

As the little girl spoke, she lowered her head and reached into her pouch. She pulled out three pieces of girdled beehive silver and showed them to the Daoist priest.

“He also gave me money, saying he was buying the manuscript.”

“And what about the elixirs I gave you—did you pass them to them?”

“I did. They said thank you.”

“Got it.”

Song You nodded lightly, not moving from his spot.

The little girl carefully stored the silver away.

Song You had seen Lady Calico’s travelogue before—just a single page of the manuscript, one that she had deliberately chosen for him to read. She hadn’t let him see the rest.

Her accounts of her voyage were entirely based on firsthand experience. The journey itself had been thrilling and strange enough that it needed no embellishment. Simply writing it down as it happened was enough to make a fascinating story. Of course, the same story, written by different people, would have a different feel—style mattered as much as skill.

From what he had seen, Lady Calico’s writing was quite good—childish in tone but full of innocent charm.

Beyond that, it carried another kind of rare and intriguing appeal.

It was the unique perspective of a cat—different from that of a human, with distinct points of focus and unexpected trains of thought. Readers often found themselves surprised by how she chose to write about certain things, what caught her attention, and how her mind leaped from one idea to another.

Unfortunately, he had only seen that single page.

Still, a good story was a good story. But in this era, most people didn’t make money from publishing books.

Usually, only well-known scholars were paid for their writings—people would commission poems, essays, or calligraphy, offering a “writing fee” as thanks. Outside of that, few could make a living from writing. Most authors published books either to gain fame, to preserve knowledge, to spread their ideals, or simply for their own enjoyment.

The Liao family had likely given Lady Calico this payment out of gratitude for her past help.

They had called it “buying her manuscript,” but the amount they paid was exactly half of what she had asked for during her last demon-exorcising job—meaning, in reality, they had simply given her the other half.

Song You had anticipated this, which was why he had used a strand of spiritual energy of the Beginning of Spring from his earlier cultivation to create an elixir for Lady Calico to bring to them. It was meant to be dissolved in water and consumed to replenish the life energy and yang qi the golden toad had drained from them. This way, the payment they had given Lady Calico would not be owed, and their kindness would be fully repaid.

Song You glanced at her and asked, “Why didn’t you want me to accompany you?”

Then he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why are you so unwilling to let me see what you've written?”

“Mmm...” The little girl acted as if she hadn’t heard him.

She turned her head away and stared at a small butterfly flitting among the chili plants. Her expression and posture were identical to that of a cat pretending not to hear someone calling it.

“But since you’ve already published a book, if it sells well and spreads widely, even if I never return to Yangdu, I’ll still be able to find it in Yidu and buy a copy.”

“Don’t buy it!”

“I’ll read it eventually.”

“Don’t read it!”

“Could it be that you’ve written a great deal about me in this book? Is that why you’re so afraid of me seeing it?”

“...!”

The little girl instantly became alert. This person was too sharp!

“Did I guess right?”

“...” She continued to eye him warily.

“Looks like I did.”

“...”

The little girl glanced around as if searching for an escape route, then quickly tucked the silver back into her pouch. She muttered to herself, saying it was enough to last them for a long time, then mused about putting it back into her bedding for safekeeping. Without so much as another glance at the Daoist, she turned and walked off, her bag slung over her shoulder, heading straight for the bedroom.

Her footsteps were soft, growing fainter as she disappeared down the hall.

“...”

Song You shook his head with a quiet chuckle. Without even turning around, he called out, “Since that’s the case, Lady Calico, pack your things—we’re leaving tomorrow.”

His voice was the same as always, no louder than usual.

“Got it...”

A response echoed back from somewhere deep inside the house.

Song You remained seated for a little while longer before finally standing and heading inside to help with the packing.

There wasn’t much to pack for himself—after all, he was long accustomed to wandering the jianghu. He had done this so many times before that he could pack up in no time at all. However, Ye Xinrong's ancestral home and all the original belongings of the family had to be properly cleaned and organized, carefully stored in the most convenient way for preservation.

Meanwhile, Lady Calico had gone to pick all the suanqie, carefully washing and drying them before storing them in the small pot they always carried.

The chili plants were still blooming—Song You left them alone.

Nor did he pull out the suanqie vines.

Ye Xinrong would likely return before the year was over. When he did, he might see the suanqie and chili peppers thriving in the courtyard. These crops hadn’t yet spread to the Yangzhou region, and with the courtyard’s plants having been nourished by the wood energy of the swallow’s magic, their vitality was unusually strong.

They had absorbed a fair amount of spiritual energy, making them a fitting parting gift from Song You.

However, the jointgrasses and cattails were completely cleared away—better to remove them before they spread wildly like common weeds.

By the following morning, everything was packed and ready.

Song You stood at the doorway, leaning on his bamboo staff. Behind him, a jujube-red horse carried an overstuffed bedding bundle, with Lady Calico’s pouch, a lantern, a fishing rod, and a bamboo hat all strapped to it. The pile looked bulky, but it wasn’t particularly heavy.

A step further back stood Lady Calico in her calico cat form, facing the courtyard but turning her head back for one last look.

On the rain awning above the gate, the swallow perched silently, watching them leave.

“Let’s go.”

Song You gave the signal, tapping his staff on the ground as he stepped forward.

The jujube-red horse and the calico cat followed closely behind Song You—one stepping silently through the doorway, the other leaping over the threshold, constantly glancing back.

“Creak...”

The courtyard gate swung shut.

Song You locked it and held up the key. Immediately, the swallow swooped down, caught it in its beak, and flew back into the courtyard.

A moment later, the sound of a stone stool being moved echoed from within.

“Flap, flap, flap...”

The swallow quickly emerged again, soaring into the sky.

It was neither early nor late in the day. The sunlight slanted down, casting long beams over the rooftops. The fresh morning mist had left the bluestone pavement slightly damp, darkening its color.

The alleyway was quiet, but as soon as they stepped out of it, they were met with the lively bustle of Yangdu’s main street.

Song You led his horse forward, walking along the river.

He passed through the stone-paved streets, greeting familiar tea house owners, chatting briefly with friendly neighbors, and exchanging nods with members of the Li and Mr. Liao families when they happened to cross paths.

They walked over Huashi Bridge, stepping onto the Jile God’s bricks.

Atop the bridge, Song You paused, watching the boats glide along the river below. The water rippled in gentle waves, willow branches swayed in the breeze, and on the deck of one of the boats, a nobleman in white robes stood fanning himself, admiring the riverside scenery. Behind him, a graceful pipa player sat, cradling her instrument as she plucked out a soft, lilting tune.

A scene of pure beauty, a world at peace.

Below the bridge, several fishermen, who had long become familiar with Song You, stretched their necks curiously at the sight of him leading a horse, carrying large bundles, with a fishing rod strapped to the baggage—clearly preparing for a long journey.

They wanted to call out to the little girl who often made them break out in cold sweat with her skillful fishing, to bid her farewell.

But they didn’t see her anywhere. Just as they exchanged puzzled glances, a small figure leaped up onto the stone railing of the bridge.

The figure was fluffy and beautifully patterned with a coat of mixed colors—just like her tricolored robe.

Song You stood at the head of the bridge and cupped his hands in a polite gesture of farewell. The cat raised her paw and waved.

The soft spring breeze stirred the willows and carried the scent of plum blossoms through the air.

April was the season of partings.

With a flick of her tail, the cat turned and leapt down. Song You, too, resumed walking. Descending from the bridge, they slowly made their way toward the city gates.

In the distance, the Duke of Thunder’s temple stood newly rebuilt, wisps of incense smoke curling toward the sky like drifting clouds.

During this time, the Thunder Division gods must have been busy.

But their efforts had not been in vain. The more work they did, the more incense offerings they received. The better their work, the more sincere the worship. Which, in a way, meant business was thriving.

Duke of Thunder Zhou ought to be grateful to him.

Song You thought about this idly as he walked, his eyes continuously scanning his surroundings.

To his left, a plump official sat comfortably inside a litter, holding a tray in one hand while carefully nibbling on a delicate pastry with the other.

To his right, a laborer—shirtless, skin stretched tightly over bones—struggled under the weight of a large burlap sack. His back, whether from sunburn or from the constant friction of the sack, was a patchwork of raw, blackened red sores.

Well-dressed young masters ran laughing through the streets, while half-naked, barefoot children huddled silently in the corners, their gazes empty.

The Daoist strolled through the bustling streets, moving between these two worlds.

What a peaceful age.

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