Unintended Immortality

A rectangular table, draped with a cloth embroidered in golden threads, was laden with imperial dishes. Each dish was modest in portion, served in small plates and bowls, but the sheer variety was staggering—more than twenty different dishes at least.

There was fine wine served in luminous goblets, and even the chopsticks were inlaid with gold.

The Daoist priest, as usual, first picked some food and placed it before Lady Calico.

“When did you descend from the mountains, Immortal Master?” the Emperor asked.

“In the late summer of the first year of Mingde,” the Daoist replied respectfully. After a brief pause, he added, “I am merely a humble Daoist and cannot bear the title of ‘Immortal Master.’ Moreover, Your Majesty is an Emperor for the ages, far above offering me such a lofty honor. If Your Majesty would follow the customs of this dynasty and simply call me ‘sir,’ it would already be a tremendous privilege.”

“Very well! Then I shall call you ‘sir!’“ The Emperor’s face brightened with satisfaction, seemingly pleased by the praise of someone from the Hidden Dragon Temple.

He continued with another question, “Sir, do you plan to travel the world, exploring the vast lands of Great Yan?”

“More or less,” the Daoist answered, all the while picking a piece of food and placing it in the cat’s bowl.

He could feel the gaze of the general across the table.

“I’m merely idle,” the Daoist replied simply.

“I have been burdened with military and political affairs for most of my life,” the aging Emperor remarked with a touch of wistfulness. “At my age, I truly envy you, sir. It’s amusing when you think about it—this world is said to be my empire, yet I fear I’ve seen far less of it than you have in just a few years of travel.”

“I wouldn’t dare to say so,” the Daoist replied. “I am but a humble Daoist. A Daoist has their way of seeing the world, and Your Majesty has yours. How could they possibly be the same?”

“Hahaha! Well said, sir!” the Emperor exclaimed.

“You flatter me…”

“I’ve heard tales that you once cultivated on Yunding Mountain, where a single night passed as if a year—truly the work of an immortal.”

“It was merely a coincidence,” the Daoist replied.

“Oh?” the Emperor probed.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“Yunding Mountain is rich in spiritual resonance and retains the marvelous legacies of those who came before. When I arrived there, I was deeply moved by its spiritual resonance, and my spirit resonated with the heavens and earth. That is how such an extraordinary experience came to be,” Song You explained, lowering his gaze. “In this matter, the harmony of time, place, and people was indispensable. I was merely a small part of the equation.”

“Sir, you are far too modest,” the State Preceptor interjected.

“I’ve long heard of the divine legends surrounding Yunding Mountain,” the Emperor said with a hearty laugh. “But though I sent people to search for traces of immortals there several times, they found nothing. It seems, perhaps, that Yunding Mountain was waiting for the right immortal, just as I have.”

“You flatter me…”

“I’ve also heard,” the Emperor continued, “that to the north of Yuezhou, there is a place covered in Chinese parasol trees, each one an ancient tree towering into the sky. Some say they’ve seen a phoenix there, perched atop a Chinese parasol tree, preening its feathers. Do you know of this, sir?”

“I have only been out in the world for a few years and traveled through just five prefectures. I have not yet been to Yuezhou and know nothing of this,” the Daoist admitted.

“Does Hidden Dragon Temple not have any records of such things?” the Emperor asked.

“Your Majesty may not know this, but although the disciples of Hidden Dragon Temple have wandered the world for generations, we never leave records of what we see and experience on our travels.” 𝙍

“Oh? And why is that?”

“So that each generation may see the world through their own eyes.”

“Marvelous!” the Emperor declared, clearly impressed.

The Emperor couldn’t help but clap his hands and laugh, though he soon sighed with a hint of regret. “I once sent people to the north of Yuezhou to search. They did indeed find towering Chinese parasol trees that seemed to have stood for millennia, but they saw no phoenixes. I can’t tell whether it’s because I lack the destiny to encounter them or if this tale is merely a fabrication of the people. I had hoped to hear the truth from you, sir.”

“I’ve let Your Majesty down,” the Daoist replied.

“I’ve also heard rumors that the blood of a phoenix, if consumed, grants immortality. Is there any truth to this?” the Emperor asked curiously.

“Immortality is not so easily obtained,” the Daoist said with a faint smile.

“Then it’s likely just another falsehood,” the Emperor concluded with a nod.

“…”

Finally, Song You had a moment to taste the food.

These dishes were mostly intricately prepared, with a level of complexity that only the palace—where such refinement was necessary to signify status—could support. Outside the palace, there were few environments where such elaborate cuisine could thrive. Song You couldn’t even name most of them. Some, when tasted, revealed hints of their craftsmanship and ingredients, while others were so unfamiliar that he couldn’t discern what they were or how they had been made.

None of the dishes were unappetizing; all could be considered delicious. At worst, they could be described as “mild.”

However, there weren’t many that left a particularly strong impression.

Given the Emperor’s advanced age, his palate had become accustomed to lighter flavors. These dishes prioritized appearance and, in some cases, auspicious symbolism and elegant names over pure culinary excellence.

Throughout the meal, the Emperor refrained from bringing up any matters of state. Instead, he spoke of immortality, gods and ghosts, and strange tales from across the land.

This suited Song You just fine.

Song You was neither a loyal minister nor a wise scholar; he lacked knowledge of governance and would struggle to provide meaningful answers if asked. Casual conversation like this, however, allowed him to feel at ease.

The incident at the Grand Commander's residence wasn’t mentioned either.

By the usual rules of conversation, the Daoist should have shown deference to preserve the Emperor’s dignity—perhaps offering an apology, even if insincere, for the previous offense.

The Emperor, in turn, could have dismissed it. Alternatively, the Emperor might show his magnanimity by expressing concern over the offense the Daoist suffered in Changjing, admitting his regret for failing to discipline his subordinates properly. The Daoist would then feign humility and let the matter drop.

But neither side did any of that. Not a single word about it was spoken.

As for the State Preceptor and General Chen, the State Preceptor occasionally chimed in with a comment, while General Chen Ziyi remained mostly silent, more of a background presence. Only when something piqued his interest would he glance at Song You.

Time passed, and the night deepened. Outside the palace, the stars filled the sky.

“It’s late,” Song You said, rising from his seat. “I should take my leave, Your Majesty.”

“You’re leaving already, sir?” the Emperor asked.

“It’s not early anymore.”

“Very well. A delightful night’s conversation with you has swept away the fatigue of governance that has burdened me for years. Since you are eager to leave, I won’t ask you to stay further.”

The Emperor looked toward the State Preceptor and General Chen. “I shall escort our guest out of the palace, but you two must stay. Once I return, we shall continue our candlelit discussions until the third watch of the night.”

As Song You prepared to leave, he spoke again. “I have one last, small request.”

“Please, speak freely, sir!” the Emperor said warmly.

“Among the dishes at Your Majesty’s banquet, there are a few that I am particularly fond of. May I take some with me?” Song You asked.

“Why not?” the Emperor responded without hesitation. “Though the food on the table has gone cold, the imperial kitchen has fresh preparations ready. Please stay a while longer—I’ll have someone heat them up and send them to your residence by carriage.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Song You said, bowing deeply.

Not long after…

The palace was illuminated by countless lights, their glow resembling fireflies, casting their light over the white marble railings and the intricate carvings on the tiled floors.

The elderly Emperor and the young Daoist strolled side by side, their steps unhurried. The calico cat, unconcerned with palace decorum, scampered ahead, darting left and right in search of palace mice.

Behind them trailed a number of eunuchs and palace maids, carrying food boxes. They followed at a respectful distance, not daring to make a sound. Occasionally, one or two would lift their gaze to steal a glance at the Daoist and his cat before quickly lowering their eyes again.

“Will I, too, be remembered in the annals of history?” the Emperor suddenly asked.

“Your Majesty, you jest,” Song You replied with a faint smile. “What Emperor is not remembered in the annals of history?”

“The current territory of Great Yan far exceeds that of previous dynasties. Its population is the largest in history, and the prosperity of its people is unparalleled. No era has afforded its citizens a better life than the present,” the Emperor said, waving his sleeve with a hint of intoxication.

He turned to the Daoist and asked, “With tributes from all directions and nations coming to pay homage, do you think future generations might bestow upon me the title of the Emperor for the Ages?”

“The affairs of future generations are beyond my knowledge,” the Daoist replied, calm as always.

“Not even you know the answer?” the Emperor asked with a smile.

“Merits and faults are for posterity to judge,” Song You said simply.

“Well said!” The Emperor laughed heartily. “But at present, I have three concerns and questions that I must seek your advice on!”

“I am young, with shallow learning, unversed in governance or military affairs. I fear I may mislead you, Your Majesty.”

“That is not true, sir,” the Emperor countered as they continued walking. “I have sat on this throne for decades, hearing countless voices every day—some right, some wrong, some beneficial, and some harmful. When it comes to great matters, there is never a shortage of opinions. Do you think I am so easily swayed?”

“Your Majesty is wise.”

“Moreover,” the Emperor continued, “the affairs of the nation can be discussed with scholars and officials, just as they can be discussed with merchants or commoners. Naturally, they can also be discussed with Daoists and immortals. As for what to adopt, that decision is mine alone to make.” By now, the scent of alcohol on him had dissipated. “So please, speak freely, without burden.”

“Then please, Your Majesty, go on,” Song You replied, finding the Emperor’s reasoning sound.

This Emperor—if he were the sort to believe whatever he heard—could never have presided over such a flourishing era. Whatever he himself might say would simply become one more voice in the Emperor’s ears.

At most, his voice might be slightly louder.

And he was curious to hear what troubles weighed on the Emperor’s mind and what he wished to discuss with him.

“The first of my concerns is the rapid population growth in Great Yan,” the Emperor began.

“Indeed,” Song You responded simply.

“In other dynasties, this would be considered a blessing. Any other Emperor sitting in my position would likely think it a good thing. Even many senior ministers in the court take pride in this and boast about it to foreign envoys,” the Emperor said, glancing at Song You. “But you must know, sir, that an overabundance of people can lead to disaster. If this continues unchecked, chaos will surely engulf the realm.”

“You are correct,” Song You acknowledged.

“Decades ago, your master’s master saved Great Yan from a calamity. I wonder, sir, if you might have any divine methods or wise strategies to address this crisis?” the Emperor asked.

“By coincidence, I do have something to share,” Song You said after some thought.

“What kind of coincidence?” the Emperor asked, intrigued.

“In the second year after I descended the mountain, I visited Anqing in Xuzhou. There, I encountered a great demon with nearly a thousand years of cultivation. Known for its many good deeds, it was revered by the local people as the 'Swallow Immortal.' Might Your Majesty have heard of this being?”

“Is it the same Swallow Immortal who, during a great drought, stole grain from government warehouses to relieve the suffering of the people?” the Emperor replied without hesitation.

Song You wasn’t sure whether the Emperor’s knowledge stemmed from his interest in matters of the supernatural and immortality, or from his meticulous awareness of the empire’s affairs. Either way, he couldn’t help but offer a word of praise.

“Your Majesty is truly a wise ruler.”

“What does this Swallow Immortal have to do with the matter at hand?” the Emperor asked, curious.

“When I arrived in Anqing, the Swallow Immortal heard of my visit and invited me as a guest,” Song You began. “During our conversation, we discussed the path to divinity. At the time, I thought of the very issue that troubles Your Majesty now.

“Considering that the Swallow Immortal of Anqing is naturally gifted with the ability to traverse oceans and possesses vast knowledge, coupled with a desire to benefit all people and thereby ascend to godhood, I proposed that the Swallow Immortal journey overseas in search of superior crop varieties. If successful, it might alleviate Great Yan's urgent crisis and bring immeasurable merit.”

“Oh!?” The Emperor was taken aback, leaning forward with interest. “Do you believe there are superior crops overseas?”

“It is merely speculation,” Song You admitted.

“If a crop can be found that surpasses the yield of eastern rice and addresses this urgent need, I will thank you on behalf of all the people of the realm!” The Emperor, moved by the prospect, began to rise to perform a formal gesture of gratitude.

“Your Majesty, such a grand gesture is unnecessary,” Song You said quickly. “It is far too early to know the outcome. I cannot say whether the Swallow Immortal will succeed. Moreover, if something is discovered, it will be the result of the Swallow Immortal and their descendants' arduous efforts overseas. Any thanks should rightly be directed to the Swallow Immortal of Anqing.”

“Both you and the Swallow Immortal deserve my gratitude!” the Emperor replied earnestly.

“If they indeed found something, I would ask that Your Majesty quickly implement its use to relieve this crisis,” Song You said after a pause. “I also made an agreement with the Swallow Immortal: they will seek to benefit the people, and I will safeguard their merit. If Your Majesty truly wishes to express gratitude, then please confer a formal recognition upon the Swallow Immortal of Anqing.

“This deed, though immeasurable in merit, is entirely the Swallow Immortal's doing and must not be credited to others.”

“I will honor this request!” the Emperor promised.

“If nothing is found, I fear I have no other solutions. I only ask that Your Majesty does not hold me accountable for the failure,” Song You added.

“Even your intention to help is a great kindness!” the Emperor replied.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Song You said.

“Inviting you to the palace for a conversation was indeed a good decision, as is escorting you now. In just this short time, one of my greatest worries has been eased, and I can now look forward to some restful sleep,” the Emperor said with a smile. “However, I still have two major concerns in my heart.”

“Your Majesty, please speak.”

“The first is the great threat from the north,” the Emperor began. “Though years of warfare have deterred the people of the northern frontier from invading, and the Western Regions have also stabilized, the unrest in the northeast and northwest is not a problem of one reign or one dynasty. It has been the enduring scourge of every Central Plains dynasty for millennia.

“During times of prosperity, peace can be maintained, but when the Central Plains weaken, they inevitably descend southward like a flood, threatening the court, pillaging the people, and plunging the land into chaos. Many dynasties during their golden ages have managed to repel them, but only for a time—years or decades, never permanently.”

“Does Your Majesty wish to launch an offensive?” Song You asked.

“Indeed!” the Emperor replied firmly.

The ruler was dressed not in the dragon robes of the dynasty's founding days but in simple attire, strolling casually through the palace grounds late at night as he conversed with the Daoist. Yet the words he spoke carried the weight of life and death for countless thousands and the fate of millions upon this land for centuries to come.

Perhaps this moment would become a brilliant pearl in the annals of history.

“In this time of peace and prosperity, with a skilled State Preceptor and valiant generals at my side, I wish to dispatch troops—first to subdue the northern frontier, then to conquer the Western Regions. My hope is that, within my lifetime, I can rid the north of its great threat and secure peace for generations to come!”

The elderly Emperor's voice was resolute and powerful.

Song You narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened.

The Emperor's ambition was grandiose, but even if he could secure peace in the north for just a hundred years, it would still be a monumental achievement worthy of being called a legacy of unparalleled greatness.

“…”

At this moment, what the Daoist saw was no longer the palace in the depths of night but a pivotal turning point in history.

He could only sigh, wondering what virtue or ability he possessed to be part of such a moment.