Chapter 147: You Honor Me Too Much

“Sir, did you know that mother and daughter from earlier?”

“No idea…”

“I think you probably did.”

Tao’er and Tong Zhihuan walked behind Chen Changsheng, whispering to themselves nonstop.

Carrying his wine down the mountain, Chen Changsheng had returned empty-handed. But upon second thought, he hadn’t left completely empty—at least he’d eaten a baked pancake.

After leaving the marketplace, he went straight back to Flowing Cloud Temple.

As the group began climbing the stone steps to the temple, an old man was urging his donkey along the Imperial Road not far away.

“Gee up!!”

The donkey pulling the cart brayed. The cart held piled goods—mostly dried tea leaves and fruits, plus a few pounds of fresh meat.

The old man driving the donkey wore old clothes, his shoes thick with dust. Streaks of gray peppered his hair, making him look about fifty—which was considered old age.

“Huff, huff…”

He wiped sweat from his brow and prepared to sit for a short rest when his gaze froze.

Sweat beaded his forehead. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he stared up toward the steps winding up the distant mountainside.

When he spotted that figure clad in a blue robe, the old man’s eyes widened slightly. Vaguely, an image from many years ago surfaced in his mind.

“Is that… him?”

His lips parted slightly. With quick, urgent movements, he grabbed the rope tied to the donkey and hitched it securely to a tree beside the road.

Leaving both the cart and its load of goods right there on the roadside, he simply left them.

He began to stride toward that mountain path.

It seemed the person he’d glimpsed was of vital importance to him.

…

Upon returning to the temple, Chen Changsheng headed straight to the Library Pavilion. He picked out two casual books to read. Grabbing a jar of wine from the Side Room on the way, he settled in and sipped as he started reading.

Scarcely had he sat down when a voice broke the quiet.

“Sir, someone’s looking for you!”

Tong Zhihuan stood near the pavilion in the courtyard and called out.

Chen Changsheng paused. “Who is it?”

Tong Zhihuan answered, “Just an ordinary old man. He’s waiting by the main gates of the temple.”

Chen Changsheng considered for a moment, then got up and walked toward the front courtyard.

Standing at the entrance to the temple was a plainly dressed elderly man whose hair had turned threadbare and gray.

When the old man saw Chen Changsheng, his entire body froze instantly.

“It truly is the Immortal Elder!”

Li Sifang looked simultaneously awestruck and dazed, as if he didn’t quite believe his own eyes. He hurried toward Chen Changsheng.

For his part, Chen Changsheng couldn’t quite place where he’d seen the old man before. “Old sir, do… do I know you?” he asked.

“Immortal Elder, you’ve forgotten! That year you drank tea at my place! You even cast a fortune for my son!”

Li Sifang pressed on anxiously, “Ah, yes! Young master, my son’s name is Li Anfu—does it sound familiar now?”

At that name, sudden recognition washed over Chen Changsheng. “You were the eatery owner?”

“Yes, yes! Precisely me!”

Li Sifang grinned wide with delight. “That fortune you told, Immortal Elder—it was positively heaven-sent! That autumn in the eighth month, at the provincial exam—my son truly passed! Exactly as you foretold! Sixty-five, it was! Exactly rank sixty-five!”

Chen Changsheng offered a modest wave, deflecting the praise. “Old sir, you flatter me too much. I’m no Immortal Elder. It was mere coincidence. Your son passed entirely through his own hard work. I certainly had nothing to do with it.”

Old Li remained unconvinced. “How could mere coincidence ever get it so precisely? Ah, I almost forgot—Immortal Elder, back when you left, didn’t you say you’d return for tea? This old man put aside a bit of fine tea, especially saved for your return!”

Chen Changsheng suppressed a sigh and gently gestured. “Forget all that for now. Please, old man, be seated.”

“Ah, yes, yes… alright.”

Li Sifang’s footing seemed unsteady as he moved—perhaps due to immense, roiling excitement.

He truly felt that, in this life, he might never have encountered this man again. Who’d have dreamt the world would suddenly turn this way today and they’d meet after all?

“Unimaginable, unimaginable… so close yet so far apart—truly fickle.”

Li Sifang mumbled quietly to himself. Staring at the man in blue before him, hands suddenly restless and helpless at his sides.

Watching the old man’s flustered appearance, Chen Changsheng smiled mildly but firmly. “Really, I’m no Celestial Immortal.”

Once seated, Li Sifang seemed to suddenly remember something crucial—panic flashed across his face.

“Tea leaves! Right—the tea leaves…”

Frantically, he looked around himself, patting his own pockets, an expression of sheer anxiety spreading over his face.

“You—does the Celestial Immortal especially treasure fine tea? Yes? Please wait… I’ll fetch it! I’ll fetch it right away!”

Li Sifang, just seated moments ago, scrambled back to his feet and charged downhill as if chased.

Chen Changsheng paused in amazement. “Old storekeeper, don’t rush…”

But no matter how loud Chen Changsheng shouted after him, Li Sifang seemed deaf. Stumbling and staggering on the uneven path, he continued descending.

As he reached a curve along the stone stairs halfway down, he twisted back to yell upward toward the temple gates.

“Immortal Elder, wait for me!”

And again, as if to himself: “Immortal Elder, wait for me… Immortal Elder, please wait!”

He murmured urgently as he hastened down the remaining steps.

Chen Changsheng hurried to the doors of the temple to look… yet within moments, the old man had vanished from sight beyond the bend in the path.

Chen Changsheng stood gaping silently, uncertain what to make of the scene.

Tao’er and Tong Zhihuan arrived at last, looking toward the outside. Less than half an hour later, the old man already reappeared near the base of the hill—still swaying on his feet, strangely harried and flushed.

Li Sifang untied his donkey from the roadside tree. Then, with abrupt urgency, he freed it from harness and cart.

Springing clumsily onto the animal’s bare back, he urged it onward. All he cared about was leaving immediately.

Watching this scene unfold from above at the temple gate, Chen Changsheng drew a long sigh—feeling both strangely disturbed and deeply absurd.

“Mr. Chen…” ventured Tong Zhihuan. “Is that elder coming back?”

Chen Changsheng, still gazing after the vanished figure, nodded quietly. “I’ll wait here for him a while.”

Tong Zhihuan opened his mouth as if to say something—then reconsidered and stayed silent.

Time slowly unfurled. Nearly half an hour crawled by.

Then, finally, the elderly storekeeper broke the skyline as he crested the path Chen Changsheng watched so fixedly.

Chen Changsheng breathed deep. Descending the steps toward the grassy mountain clearing below the temple entrance.

When Mr. Chen at last reached the stone gateway separating temple stairs from rough-roaded countryside, Li Sifang met him carrying a bundle tightly in his arms.

Without pause or explanation, he pressed a compact paper-wrapped bundle into Chen Changsheng’s startled hands.

For a moment, they simply stood facing each other amid fluttering leaves near the stairs.

The old man before him stood covered in crawling sweat, dust caking collar and brow in trails of drying mud. His frame shook with the effort of frantic movement and sheer exhaustion. Grey smears showed on arms. The bones in him strained audibly as he breathed—panting and spent.

Li Sifang forced down the roughness lumped within his throat. With effort, he pushed words outward: “A mere trifle. I wish the Immortal Elder would… accept it.”

A stillness. Chen Changsheng intended first to refuse the gift. After pause and reconsideration, he relented and accepted the folds of tingling paper. He quieted the inner impulse to decline again.

He offered a small, patient smile in return. “Thank you.”

Li Sifang bowed his head repeatedly in exhausted relief. “Not at all, not at all! Seeing an Immortal Elder like your esteemed self… it’s truly the greatest fortune our little Li family could ever attain.”

“No,” Chen Changsheng declined firmly but kindly. “Your son passed on strength of self alone—I contributed nothing. Frankly speaking, old sir… I feel undeserving of this gift you traveled for. Yet I cannot dishonor a heart that journeyed miles to give.”

Li Sifang bowed deeper than before. “Immortal Elder—it’s merely a little tea.”

Chen remained smiling as they stood together in the shadowed grass of an afternoon. He nodded gently.

“Well then, at least come inside the temple, sit with me for now?”

“Oh no, no!”

Li Sifang waved both hands in frantic refusal.

“Truly, I cannot impose on immortals. My purpose was only delivery… delivery I have done.”

Li Sifang backed away sideways. Sensed Chen Changsheng’s outstretched plea to stay.

“Immortal Elder, do not insist—I must leave. Now… farewell!”

To prevent further polite offers, or worry staying longer tempted fate itself—the old man started hurriedly away as swiftly as he first fled, still awkward on his legs.

His refusal hissed sharp after each attempt by Chen Changsheng to stop his retreat.

Li Sifang waved without turning back. Began fading again into the obscuring dusk of mountain trees and road shadows below.

Silence fell. Chen Changsheng stood alone at the mouth of Flowing Cloud Temple and weighed the packet of leaves quietly. Then looked back one last time to where Li Sifang had vanished.

He thought the stumbling, weathered elder must want something more: fortune, blessing, insight.

But Li Sifang asked nothing at all. Only this little package of fresh leaves. Joyfully given.

The paper wrapping gave off a light herbal fragrance. Questioning thought rose:

Could people truly exist just to deliver one person to another—some lightness? They carried and cared? To run miles—driven only for joy in sharing whatever gave them purpose?

Chen Changsheng knew himself undeserving. This mundane greatness created something regal and unspeakably tender. He sighed into the leaves held at his chest.

“So…”

he murmured aloud—to himself, and trees, and last light on the dust trailing downward:

“You honor me too much.”