Chapter Eighteen: When the Heart Holds the Bright Moon, the Pure Breeze Comes of Its Own Accord

The group left Shangjia Town without incident and made their way toward Tianyu County. The trouble that Fang Zheng had anticipated never arose. It seemed that either "that esteemed official" was wary of the identity he had fabricated, or there were reasons unknown to him. In any case, less trouble was always preferable. Without further concern, Fang Zheng shifted his attention to how he might discreetly warn Zhao Mu Wan about Zhao Zhong. He held a good impression of Miss Zhao, and wished to prevent her from falling victim to treachery. Yet, as an outsider, he could not easily speak out, especially since Zhao Zhong had been with the Zhao family for many years and enjoyed her trust. Caution was necessary.

Tianyu County lay more than five hundred li away. Fang Zheng was in no hurry to divulge anything, preferring to wait for the right opportunity. If none presented itself, he would simply tell her directly before his departure. Whether Zhao Mu Wan believed him would be her own affair; his only aim was to act with a clear conscience.

The caravan was now quite different from before. Although the number of people remained unchanged, only three carriages were left. Aside from the one carrying the three young ladies—including the little girl—and another for the elder surnamed Zhang, there was only a single wagon for goods. It appeared that the Zhao family had unloaded nearly all their cargo in Shangjia Town over the past two days.

Fang Zheng still rode his lean horse, gazing at the scenery with relaxed contentment. Though much lay ahead, none of it was urgent. By nature, Fang Zheng was an optimist; whatever weighed on his mind was soon forgotten. "There is nothing in the world; only fools trouble themselves," he mused. Whether that saying held profound truth or was merely self-consolation, Fang Zheng subscribed to it wholeheartedly. Worry or joy, life must be lived step by step. With the heights of ambition still far out of reach, how could one speak of immortality so easily?

As dusk approached and the caravan prepared to camp for the evening, two figures appeared on the road—a curious pair that stirred a ripple among the guards. Fang Zheng, whose eyesight far surpassed that of ordinary men, saw them clearly: an old man dressed as a Daoist, clad in a broad white robe that hung comically on his thin frame. His coarse, short brows and small eyes, along with a long white beard beneath his chin, lent him an air of otherworldliness. A dark, slender arm protruded from his wide sleeves, holding a fly whisk; in his other hand, he led a boy dressed like a little beggar. The contrast between them was striking—the old man, despite his odd attire and appearance, was exceptionally clean, while the boy was filthy and ragged.

They approached from another path, but their direction matched that of Fang Zheng’s party. Now close, the guards relaxed upon seeing only two travelers, one elderly and one child. Zhao Zhong stepped forward and inquired, "May I ask where you come from? Are you headed toward Tianyu as well? We are bound for Tianyu County to conduct some business. Would you care to travel with us?"

One had to admit that Zhao Zhong, though a spy, was shrewd in handling matters. His words were partly truthful, and he explained their business upfront to avoid arousing suspicion.

"Ah? That would be splendid! I am indeed bound for Tianyu County," the white-robed elder replied cheerfully. "Since you so kindly invite me, I shall reluctantly accept and travel with you. With me here, you need fear no monsters or demons along the way. Haha! Is there any food?"

As he spoke, his mouse-like eyes roamed eagerly over the caravan, as if searching for provisions. The boy's stomach rumbled loudly at the mention of food, so much so that everyone in the caravan heard it.

Zhao Zhong was momentarily taken aback; his casual inquiry was met with such a bold answer. He had only wished to probe their origins, to see if they posed any threat, and his invitation had merely been a polite formality—when had it become a "cordial invitation"? The caravan's members were left speechless; it seemed they had encountered a pair of clingy beggars, demanding food outright. Just as Zhao Zhong was unsure how to respond, the elder surnamed Zhang spoke up, "We do have food, Daoist. Please wait a moment; we are about to set up camp and cook. After a short while, there will be a meal."

Fang Zheng knew that Elder Zhang acted as Zhao Mu Wan's steward, having watched her grow up. With his special status, he could make decisions for the caravan. By speaking now, it was clear he intended to let the old man and boy stay.

Fang Zheng watched silently. Despite their odd appearance and the elder's audacious manner, he detected no trace of the unique aura possessed by cultivators. He had learned the "Aura Sight" technique from Elder Shen, commonly used in the cultivation world to distinguish practitioners from ordinary folk. While there were advanced methods for concealing one's aura, most only obscured one's level, not the fundamental traits of a cultivator. As for those rare arts that could completely suppress all traces, Fang Zheng doubted he would encounter such mastery by mere chance. So long as this strange pair posed no threat to himself or the little girl, he was content to ignore them; whether they stayed or left was of no consequence.

The Daoist responded to Elder Zhang with eager gratitude, his face betraying impatience. The caravan had originally planned to travel a bit further before camping, but with this encounter, Elder Zhang decided to settle down at once. As the group began to busy themselves with preparations, Fang Zheng dismounted and wandered nearby, admiring the scenery. The sun was setting, casting the sky in a haze of enchanting colors against the encroaching darkness—a breathtaking sight. Warm breezes swept across the wilds, accompanied by the gentle chirping of insects. Fang Zheng felt himself merge with the natural world, his body and spirit utterly at ease.

He did not realize that at this moment, the spiritual sea within his body was once again stirring, the abundant energy whirling around its center and collapsing inward, forming a tiny core at its heart.

After some time, Fang Zheng emerged from his reverie, sensing an indefinable change within himself, though he could not pinpoint its nature. Had he chosen to examine himself internally, he would have noticed a slow yet distinct transformation taking place in his spiritual sea. But Fang Zheng attributed his comfortable state to the relaxation brought by his brief immersion in nature, never thinking to inspect the changes within.

"The sunset is glorious, but dusk is near." Such beauty, fleeting as it was, soon faded; the sun set completely and darkness crept in. The caravan had finished their preparations—cooks busied themselves with supper, guards chatted in small groups, while the old man and boy hovered near the cook, staring hungrily at the pot as if starved ghosts reincarnated, provoking the cook to roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Brother, what are you thinking so deeply about?" It was the little girl who ran over. After the caravan stopped, she had gotten off the carriage, intending to seek out Fang Zheng, but noticing him lost in thought, she tactfully refrained and went to catch cicadas in the grass instead. Now, seeing him move, she approached him.

"Ha, I was wondering if my dear Yaya had forgotten her brother now that she has two sisters, spending all day in the carriage and never coming out," Fang Zheng teased.

"How could I? Yaya likes brother best! I’d never forget you. It’s just that Sister Wan said now I’m a grown girl, I shouldn’t run about among all you men—it’s not proper. She said that girls shouldn’t show themselves so freely."

"Oh? So my Yaya is learning manners from Sister Wan. That’s a good thing." Though Fang Zheng was a true twenty-first-century traveler, he greatly admired ancient Chinese civilization. So long as the old customs weren't harmful, like foot binding, he was happy for Yaya to learn more; it would only do her good, especially in this society where such matters were taken seriously.

"Yes, I think it’s a good thing too. Sister has taught me a lot. I won’t talk to you now; I’ve been out long enough, and I need to return to the carriage and learn needlework with Sister."

"It's already dark—why learn needlework now?" Fang Zheng asked, a little worried for her eyesight, for myopia was unheard of in this world.

"It’s fine; Sister Wan has a beautiful bead called a 'luminous pearl.' The carriage is brighter at night than during the day." With that, she skipped off toward the carriage, leaving Fang Zheng to marvel—such treasures belonged only to the wealthy. In his mind, such a pearl was a priceless rarity, but in this world, it was not particularly uncommon.

Soon after, everyone began to eat. The old man and boy astonished the group once more, devouring enough food to satisfy five or six grown men, yet still wanting more. Fang Zheng was amazed anew—truly, appearances could be deceiving, for their appetite could fill ten of him. The little girl did not come out again; Fang Zheng found an excuse to leave the group and seek a quiet spot for his nightly cultivation. Only then did he discover once more the changes occurring within his body...