Chapter 710: Chapter 710

In the late autumn of the tenth year of the Da’an era, Song You saw off the last old friend who had come to visit that year. Yin-Yang Mountain returned to its usual quiet and solitude, except for a nearby peak where the sound of hammering rang out. Under the mist, numerous unpaid supernatural craftsmen were busy building pavilions and towers. Judging by the style, it resembled the old Crane-Immortal Pavilion of Changjing.

The following spring, the political situation became turbulent, with unrest spreading across the land. The Great Yan Emperor performed a ritual at Mount Ding and changed the era name to Zhiyuan.

By the second year of Zhiyuan, winter had arrived.

Song You designated little Jiang Han’s birthday as the day of the Daxue, marking the day he had found her as her first year. Now she was four years old, though technically she was just over three.

The little girl was very smart, diligent, and eager to learn, showing much of Lady Calico’s old demeanor, perhaps because she had been taught by Lady Calico herself. Though human, her odd, unusual thoughts were slightly less eccentric than Lady Calico’s; her physical and mental growth was even faster.

Still, she was ultimately influenced by Lady Calico.

“Another year has passed already…” Song You sighed as he warmed himself by the fire.

“Another year has passed!”

The delicate echoes came from nearby, first one voice, then another.

“Jiang Han, there are many good habits on Lady Calico. Learn those, not the others,” Song You said helplessly, then glanced at the calico cat beside him. “Look at yourself…”

“Look at me!” The cat lowered her head to look at herself.

“Look at me!” The little girl also bent down to look at herself, as if they were playing a mimicry game.

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Song You shook his head helplessly and said to them, “The New Year is approaching. When the holiday begins, there will surely be many townsfolk coming to offer incense. If we don’t have enough stock, there won’t be any incense for them to use, and we won’t even collect offerings.”

The mention of “not even collecting offerings’ immediately made the calico cat serious, paying full attention.

She glanced at the stove; though its warmth was extremely comfortable, combined with the bitter cold outside that made her lazy, she decisively stood, stretched, and headed out.

After two steps, she called back, “Meow!”

Little Jiang Han, who was sitting on a small stool, immediately followed.

They walked two more steps, then hesitated, realizing something was off. She looked back at the Daoist still seated by the fire, on a reclining chair no less. “And you?”

“I have my own tasks to attend to,” Song You waved at them. “Call Yan An along. Work faster.”

The two voices responded, one after the other.

Lady Calico, without hesitation, trotted forward in little steps, lightly leaping over the threshold and going outside.

Little Jiang Han imitated her, leaping over the threshold as if it couldn’t be stepped over normally.

They turned left outside, arriving at the corner of the incense-making room.

Previously, Hidden Dragon Temple had no incense-making room. Visitors brought their own stick incense or bought it in the city. Later, Song You liked creating his own incense blends, experimenting with herbal formulas collected from across the land. Thus, the incense-making room was created, and most incense burned in the temple thereafter was homemade.

Making incense also became Song You’s pastime whenever he returned to the temple, and a new task for the young Daoist disciples.

The incense room was small, with wooden racks against the walls holding red paper, bamboo sticks, and various herbs. Three incense-making tables—a large one, a medium, and a small—stood in the center. Each table had a drawer filled with Song You’s pre-mixed herbal incense powders, mainly green and golden fragments, mixed together.

The three figures entered and each took a seat.

Lady Calico inhaled deeply. The mixed aroma of herbs was fresh; perhaps because of the cold, she felt a slight chill on her forehead.

“We should make more. The Daoist priest said after the New Year, many devout visitors will come to the temple to offer incense,” Lady Calico said. “The Daoist also said that making incense is what a Daoist should do.”

Yan An said nothing, keeping her head down and working.

Little Jiang Han, though only a few years old and tiny, sat seriously at her small table, repeating, “Make more!”

Lady Calico busied herself.

She pulled out red paper, needing no knife. With just her fingernail, she drew a straight line across the sheet, which tore as cleanly as if cut by the sharpest blade, producing a strip about a chi long and three fingers wide, which was perfect for rolling incense.

Lady Calico moved with practiced skill, cutting continuously. After cutting each strip, she first passed it to the other two beside her.

She kept going until she felt she had cut enough red paper for today, and seeing that the others, especially Yan An, had already rolled many incense sticks, she realized that if she didn’t start herself, she wouldn’t keep up. Only then did she stop cutting paper.

She spread out a strip of red paper, took a bamboo piece from the drawer as a container for the incense powder—exactly one chi long, enough for a single stick—and poured the powder onto the paper.

Lady Calico inhaled a few times, enjoying the aroma of the herbs. She then inserted a bamboo stick into the powder and, with practiced hands, rolled the paper tightly around it, twisting it with her small hands into a neat cylindrical incense stick.

After securing the base and compressing the top, she shook it gently to ensure it was firm. One of her homemade incense sticks was complete.

She lifted her head, stretched her neck, and glanced at Yan An’s table, roughly estimating the number of sticks there. Then she lowered her head and returned to work.

At Hidden Dragon Temple, incense was free for visitors. Most would use the temple’s incense, though a few unaware visitors would bring their own, and some superstitious ones believed that thicker, longer-burning incense demonstrated more sincerity and attracted divine favor, so they also brought incense from outside. Still, most visitors would leave a small offering in return. The people were strict about these spiritual customs.

To Lady Calico, it was just as if she was selling incense. The more incense she made, the more money she earned. She also needed to make more than Yan An, of course.

So she repeated the process over and over, almost without thinking. As she worked, she heard Yan An speaking beside her, “Yesterday the Daoist priest said there’s a herb called jingjie[1]. Many cats like its scent. He told me to find some and bring it back to experiment with new incense blends.”

“What does it smell like?”

“I don’t know yet; we’ll only find out when we locate it.” Yan An, dressed in a Daoist robe, worked her hands continuously. “We can only search for it after spring. You could ask the Daoist first.”

“He’s doing what he needs to do,” Lady Calico said, still working, slowing just slightly, and added, “Sleeping.”

“The Daoist is now connected to the Heavenly Dao and has made certain agreements. Even though he returned to the temple, he can still understand worldly matters. With the cycles of the world turning, he often enters meditation, whether in a room, at the mountain gate, or in a pavilion, essentially observing the world from the temple. He can know the affairs of the world without leaving the temple, searching for opportunities.” Yan An paused.

“I don’t understand.”

“Anyway, it’s very important.”

“How do you know this?”

“Did the Daoist priest secretly tell you?”

“Then how do you know?”

Lady Calico suddenly realized she had been distracted, her movements slowing.

Sneaky Yan An! The little girl’s expression hardened, and she immediately sped up.

Seeing this, little Jiang Han, though unsure what was happening, copied her speed. She hurriedly tried to keep up, appearing a bit flustered.

For a moment, the room fell silent.

Although it was midwinter, spring wasn’t far off. The coldest time had passed. Mornings were misty, amplifying the chill, but as the sun rose, warmth followed, streaming through the windows into the room, scattering fragments of herb powder in the light. The room gradually grew warm.

Without being rushed, performing these repetitive actions in leisure allowed the mind to empty completely. It wasn’t tiring; it was relaxing, almost like resting.

Lady Calico enjoyed it. And besides, she could earn money.

Each incense stick brought a little income. Though small, it accumulated over time. She liked this gradual process.

By evening, all the red paper was used up.

Lady Calico stretched, letting out a contented sigh, glanced at the incense piled beside Yan An, then at her own, judged them roughly equal, nodded in satisfaction, and stood to go out.

Beyond the mountains, layers of peaks stretched endlessly. Pavilions and towers rose amidst dense evening mist. The sun slowly sank toward the horizon.

The Daoist reclined in his chair, bathing in the sunset.

Two days later, it would already be New Year’s Eve. Everyone sat together, wrapping dumplings.

Song You had prepared three fillings—pickled cabbage with pork, cabbage with chicken, and flathead grey mullet.

The pork came from villagers down the mountain. They had raised two black pigs, slaughtered one for the new year, and gave a portion to the temple’s humble Daoist. The pickled cabbage was homemade, combined to Song You’s preferred taste.

The chicken was a free-range bird he had raised himself, paired with cabbage he’d grown, surely the neighbors across the mountain would enjoy it.

The flathead grey mullet was caught by Lady Calico from the river.

Song You skillfully rolled the wrappers while the other three handled the filling and folding.

“Why isn’t there any rat filling?” Little Jiang Han sat beside Lady Calico, holding a dumpling wrapper. Tilting her head back with her pale, expressionless face, she asked the Daoist.

“And no bug filling either!”

Song You kept his face impassive, continuing his work.  Little Jiang Han then looked at Lady Calico and Yan An. Lady Calico was equally expressionless and Yan An remained silent as well.

Their special dumplings would come later, at night.

By the latter half of the dumpling-making, Lady Calico left to fetch water and tend the fire. By the time the dumplings were finished, the water was nearly boiling.

The sky had begun to darken.

Lady Calico was incredibly diligent. Even in the dim light, she could see clearly. She returned with the dumplings, stood up straight, dropped them all into the boiling water, stirred a few times with a ladle, then returned to tend the fire. The firelight reflected off the steam.

Little Jiang Han stood on a small stool at the stove, staring intently. Meanwhile, Yan An went to invite the neighbors from the opposite hill.

After a few rounds of boiling, with the dumplings floating to the top, Lady Calico deemed them ready. Glancing at the little girl still standing by the stove, stretching her neck and staring at the pot, she noticed a fleeting look in her eyes, as if the scene seemed strangely familiar.

So before scooping the dumplings, Lady Calico first took a small bowl, served one dumpling for little Jiang Han, and handed it to her with a twinkle in her eyes. “When adults are cooking, if children wait beside them, they’re allowed to sneak a bite first!”

Her words naturally put herself in the adult’s role. Little Jiang Han didn’t see anything wrong with this. Holding the small bowl, she looked up and met Lady Calico’s gaze. “Can human children do that too?”

“Of course!” Lady Calico paused, then added, “When we say ‘children,’ we mean humans.”

“Then I’m human, right?”

“Of course! If not human, what else could you be?”

The three- or four-year-old girl spoke seriously, staring straight at Lady Calico, her eyes reflecting the firelight.

“How could you be a cat?”

“You… you can’t turn into a cat!”

“Yan An said that I can only turn into a cat when I grow older.”

Lady Calico looked serious.

The little girl, only three or four years old, wore a serious expression as she stared straight at Lady Calico, the firelight reflected in both pairs of eyes.

“…” Lady Calico paused for a moment, then stood and scooped dumplings, saying as she worked, “When Yan An comes back, I’ll ask him myself.”

Outside, the wind blew briefly, then vanished.

With the passing of this day, another year came to an end.

That autumn, the northern warlord Chen Bukui could no longer endure the emperor’s suspicion and threats from the court. Claiming to act under the emperor’s secret order to “purge treacherous ministers” and leading the elite northern troops southward, he received support from various power players across the land.