Unintended Immortality-Chapter 312: A New Year’s Fishing Tale

Song You was woken by the sound of drums outside.

Groggily opening his eyes, he realized it was already the morning of the first day of the New Year in the seventh year of Mingde.

The clamor outside continued unabated.

Song You took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The air was cold and crisp, the temperature biting. On a day like this, one ought to stay nestled in the warm embrace of their blankets a while longer.

But he still threw off the covers.

Lady Calico was curled up by his thigh, lying on her belly with her head buried deeply. Her ears twitched slightly in rhythm with the pounding outside, especially at the sharp clangs of cymbals and gongs. It was clear she had also been woken by the noise but stubbornly refused to get up, likely exhausted from her escapades the night before.

“…”

Song You couldn’t help but lean down, pressing his face close to the cat’s side, and took a deep, indulgent breath of her scent.

As expected, the warm aroma of braised sauce lingered in the air.

Turning his head, Song You glanced around the room and noticed that the portable stove had shifted slightly. It seemed to have been moved somewhere and then returned to its original spot. On the table sat a small pot, scrubbed clean. As long as he didn’t imagine what the pot had gone through the previous night, it was as if none of it had happened.

At that moment—

The cat stirred. Whether it was the chill replacing the warmth of the blanket or her curiosity at the Daoist sniffing her, she finally lifted her head. Her eyes were bleary with sleep, and she stared at him with a puzzled expression.

“It’s nothing…”

The Daoist let go of the blanket, letting it fall back down, covering Lady Calico snugly from head to paw.

The northern morning was indeed freezing.

Exhaling a breath of air, it formed a dense white cloud. As Song You climbed out of bed, he quickly wrapped himself in a paper robe before moving to the window. He opened it and looked down.

Though the town was small and sparsely populated, the festive atmosphere for the New Year was anything but lacking.

The Daoist stood by the window for a long time, observing the scene.

When he finally turned back, he saw Lady Calico poking her head out from beneath the blanket. Only her head was visible, specifically just her face, with her chin resting on the bedding. It was easy to imagine her curled-up posture under the blanket. Her eyes were half-closed, heavy with sleep, yet she continued to stare at him intently.

Noticing his gaze, she finally asked, “Is today the New Year?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Another year has passed?”

“Yes, another year.”

“Is it spring now?”

“Not quite yet. Beginning of Spring is still a few days away.”

“When are we leaving?”

“When the snow up north melts—it’s snowing too heavily right now.”

“Are you going out?”

“Just to buy some steamed buns,” the Daoist replied. “Do you want some?”

“I just ate, didn’t I?”

“…”

“The mice here are so small, only…”

As Lady Calico spoke, the blanket shifted, and a small, white paw emerged as if to demonstrate the size of the northern mice. However, she quickly realized one paw wasn’t enough to properly indicate their size, and using both felt unnecessary and inconvenient. So, she retracted her paw and continued staring at the Daoist.

“Anyway, they’re very small, tiny little things. Oh, about the size of a pastry—round and plump. I can eat several in one sitting. But last night, I caught a lot of them and saved them all. You don’t need to worry about feeding me for the next few days.”

“…”

The Daoist opened his mouth as if to say something but thought better of it. In the end, he only said, “You worked hard last night, Lady Calico.”

“It wasn’t hard at all.”

“Well, I’ll be heading out.”

“Go ahead.”

Lady Calico remained motionless, her face the only part of her visible from beneath the blanket, her eyes fixed on the Daoist.

Shaking his head, the Daoist turned and left the room, heading downstairs. Lady Calico retracted her head back under the blanket.

The innkeeper was already waiting downstairs.

“Good morning, sir. You’re up?”

“Yes, I am.”

“A blessed New Year to you!”

“And to you as well.”

“By the way, sir, were you cooking that braised meat in your room last night?”

“No,” Song You replied honestly.

He nodded politely to the innkeeper and stepped out into the street.

Above him, a swallow flew through the sky, following him.

On the first day of the New Year, the streets were truly bustling. This kind of lively atmosphere had little to do with whether the area was prosperous or not; rather, it was a rebound from a year’s worth of quietness and restraint. The festivities would last at least until a few days later.

Apart from spending the night of the Beginning of Spring meditating on the spiritual resonance of the season, Song You didn’t focus much on cultivation. Instead, he spent his time experimenting with different foods. When he wasn’t busy, he’d leave the city for a walk or visit a neighboring town to listen to storytellers.

For the first few days, he frequently ran into the youth named Xu Qiu’an, but when Song You invited him to sit and chat again, the youth declined. After a few more days, Song You stopped seeing him altogether, likely because he had resumed his work.

Meanwhile, business at the inn gradually picked up.

Song You ended up staying at the inn for a month.

The weather grew noticeably warmer, but the snow outside the city still hadn’t melted.

Adhering to his principle that “every coin spent is hard-earned by Lady Calico and must be saved,” Song You negotiated with the innkeeper to continue staying until the snow outside melted. The pricing would follow the monthly rental rate, but he would be charged on a per-day basis, making it relatively cheaper.

The innkeeper, being an honest man, agreed to the arrangement.

During this time, the gentleman staying at the inn had left the innkeeper both anxious and puzzled.

The anxiety came from the constant questions after New Year’s Eve. People kept asking what had been cooked at the inn that day and whether it could be ordered in the restaurant. Though the gentleman had made braised meat twice since then, who could have guessed that the same pot of braising sauce could be reused?

The innkeeper, eager to learn the secret, found no opportunity to observe, leaving him in a state of restless frustration.

There were also a few more nights when the mysterious aroma wafted through the air. On one occasion, the innkeeper lit a lantern and searched the entire inn and its surroundings but couldn’t locate the source of the fragrance, further deepening his confusion.

Fortunately, after every occurrence of the nighttime aroma, the level of the sauce in the pot noticeably decreased. The liquid in the pot dwindled bit by bit. Now, just as the braising sauce was nearly depleted, it seemed the gentleman was preparing to leave. The innkeeper wondered if he would have the chance to witness the preparation of the sauce one more time.

How could he not feel anxious?

There was another source of mystery as well—

On the very first day of his stay, the gentleman had mentioned having two friends in the city. Over the past few weeks, the innkeeper had indeed seen them. One was a stunningly beautiful young girl, and the other a breathtakingly handsome young man—both so extraordinary in appearance that they seemed otherworldly.

Over time, the innkeeper noticed something peculiar: the two often entered the inn but rarely left. And on occasion, he hadn’t seen them enter at all, only emerge from within.

At the same time, whenever the gentleman went out, he was often accompanied by a calico cat and a swallow bird flying overhead.

The innkeeper frequently discussed these observations with his wife during their evening chats and even mentioned them discreetly to a few relatives. They could only conclude that this gentleman was no ordinary person—likely a highly skilled and accomplished cultivator.

By early February, the Daoist once again stepped out of the inn. On his left was the young girl, dressed in tricolored clothing, and on his right was the boy, clad in black and white.

“Heading out again, sir?” the innkeeper greeted him, his gaze involuntarily flickering to the companions behind him.

“Yes,” the Daoist replied.

“And where to this time?”

“Just taking a walk outside the city. It seems the snow has started melting these past few days. I’ll head down to the river,” the Daoist replied with a smile. “Perhaps in a few days, it’ll be time to bid you farewell.”

“The river ice in February is quite unstable, sir. Please be extra careful—every year, someone falls through.”

“Thank you for the reminder.”

After thanking the innkeeper, the Daoist headed out.

The innkeeper couldn’t help but keep watching them.

He thought his gaze was subtle and unlikely to be noticed. However, the young girl walking beside the Daoist, carrying a pouch, occasionally turned back, curiously glancing in his direction. Some of his relatives had suggested that the girl might be a cat transformed into human form. Startled by her sharp gaze, the innkeeper hurriedly averted his eyes, pretending to look elsewhere.

The Daoist left the city and made his way toward the river.

Outside the city was a river called the Moshui River. It was said that the famed ink bamboo of Mozhu County owed its jet-black, jade-like hue to taking in the waters of this river.

Every winter, the river froze over completely. For the entire season, it was solid enough to walk on.

However, about a month into spring, the ice quietly thinned, becoming treacherous.

The three figures soon arrived at the river.

The area had quieted down in recent days, and there were hardly any people near the river. The young girl looked around briefly, then took a dagger out of her pouch. Holding it with the blade pointed downward, she made a motion as though drawing a circle in the air above the ice.

Without a sound, and with no visible sign of magic, a perfectly round hole appeared in the ice—smoother and more precise than if it had been cut with a saw.

With a bit more effort, the young girl created a second hole in the ice.

After putting the dagger away, she didn’t touch it anymore. She instead crouched down and fixed her gaze intently on the opening she had made.

She had been here with the Daoist before.

It was freezing cold here, and the entire river was encased in ice. The fish below were practically suffocating. Typically, if a hole was made, fish would swim toward it after a while. Lady Calico was exceptionally skilled—last time, they had caught a great number of fish. Not only had they eaten to their fill, but they’d also sold some in the market and even gifted one to the innkeeper.

Lady Calico loved the thrill of catching prey, even more so when she could offer it to the Daoist as a token of her success. If she could sell it for money too? That was pure bliss.

This time, the wait was longer than before.

Lady Calico occasionally glanced around, her gaze shifting between the Daoist, who was pacing on the ice and surveying the surroundings, and the swallow youth trailing behind her but keeping a safe distance. She wondered if their presence was scaring away the fish.

Before long, the fish arrived.

“!”

Lady Calico’s expression grew focused. She took a step back, crouching behind the ice and peeking stealthily at the water.

Stretching out her hand, her delicate white fingers transformed, now tipped with sharp, curved claws. They were crystalline and translucent, with a pinkish hue like finely carved jade.

Swish!

Her hand darted into the water with lightning speed—quick and precise.

Splat…

A faint splash echoed as water droplets scattered. When Lady Calico withdrew her hand, she was already holding a large fish securely. With a casual flick of her wrist, the fish landed on the ice.

It was an impossibly smooth and clean move, something humans could scarcely imitate.

Flap, flap…

The fish flailed and wriggled on the ice.

Lady Calico immediately turned her head.

The Daoist, with his back to her, was gazing off into the distance, seemingly absorbed in something far away. What on earth is he looking at? she thought, annoyed.

She turned her head in the opposite direction.

The swallow youth in black and white stood a zhang away, facing her and clearly watching her.

Lady Calico locked her gaze on him, staring intently.

“…” The swallow youth instinctively took half a step back.

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Lady Calico continued to stare at him.

“…” The youth grew even more uneasy.

“...?” Lady Calico’s brows furrowed slightly.

“...!” The youth’s expression tensed with fear, his mind racing. Suddenly, he remembered something and hurriedly exclaimed, “Lady Calico, you’re amazing!”

“…”

Only then did Lady Calico let out a long sigh, her expression turning satisfied as she withdrew her gaze. She turned back to the hole in the ice, ready to wait for the next unlucky fish to appear.

The youth, recognizing the moment, quickly approached. He held some kind of vine or grass string in his hand, threading the caught fish and placing it to the side.

Then the process repeated: the little girl swiftly extended her hand, repeatedly pulling fish from the water. Each time she snagged one, she tossed it aside without a glance, her focus remaining entirely on the hole. The youth rushed over after each catch, carefully picking up the fish and threading them together with the grass string, all while keeping a respectful distance from her.

The Daoist, meanwhile, continued gazing off into the distance.