Chapter 4: The Loquacious Girl

This was Chen Shian’s first time drinking glucose water.

The initial taste was distinctly sweet, but a purer kind of sweetness—less layered than cane sugar, lacking the floral or fruity notes of honey, closer to a direct, refreshing sweetness.

His spiritual energy didn’t seem to increase, but after drinking it, he did feel reinvigorated.

Pleased with the effect, Chen Shian poured a little into his palm and let the black cat in his bag have a taste as well.

While waiting for the bus, Chen Shian took out his phone and, a little awkwardly, used the map app to check the time and route to Yunqi No. 1 High School.

As a modern-day Taoist, Chen Shian often used maps when traveling to unfamiliar places. His master’s methods were much more old-fashioned: all he needed was to know the direction of the destination, use a compass like a navigator, and then stride straight ahead on his own two feet.

It’s said that on the mountain, time flows differently; the cold passes and years go unnoticed.

Compared to the unchanging scenery atop the mountain, the world below was ever-changing. Chen Shian still remembered, as a child, the small bus station in town filled with coaches. Now, the coaches were gone, the station closed, replaced by long-distance city buses.

For trips from town to the county or the city, most people either drove themselves or hitched rides. Except for elderly folks looking to save money and with time to spare, few young people were willing to take the long-distance bus, since it made over twenty stops and the journey was just too long…

But for Chen Shian, it was hardly a hardship.

It was still far more convenient than relying solely on his own two legs.

If he hadn’t been busy with funeral affairs in the mountains these past days, he’d have set out two days early and walked straight from the mountain to the city.

The K301 long-distance bus arrived.

Chen Shian bought a ticket and boarded. The fare to the county’s terminal was ten yuan.

It was eight in the morning, and the bus was crowded. Seeing no empty seats, Chen Shian stood.

To avoid his backpack getting in the way or someone jostling the cat inside, he shifted the backpack to his chest, holding it in front of him.

The black cat poked its big head out through the zipper, looking curiously around.

As the Taoist and his cat watched the other passengers, the others watched them in return.

Chen Shian, dressed in full Taoist robes among a sea of modern clothing, stood out conspicuously.

But to him, wearing Taoist robes as a Taoist was perfectly natural. He was long used to such curious glances.

Occasionally, a pious man or woman would strike up a conversation or offer a greeting.

Most would press their palms together in a Buddhist salute.

Strictly speaking, this wasn’t the right gesture for a Taoist—it should be the cupped-fist salute. Still, Chen Shian didn’t mind. Etiquette was just a surface form; the intention was what mattered. Besides, these were ordinary people. Even a modern wave or handshake was acceptable to him.

…

The bus rumbled along, stopping at one station after another, while the scenery outside the window changed again and again.

Growing bored, the black cat crawled back into the backpack to sleep, but Chen Shian kept his gaze fixed on the ever-shifting landscape outside.

Fifty minutes later, the bus arrived at the county’s terminal—the starting point for the next bus to the city.

Chen Shian got off with his bag and transferred to the 716 bus.

After standing the entire previous journey, he was glad to find an empty seat this time.

He chose a window seat toward the rear and settled in to wait for the bus to depart.

At the terminal, passengers boarded one after another, but rarely did strangers choose to sit right next to each other if there were plenty of open seats. Aside from those traveling together, most solo passengers each claimed a seat of their own.

After one stop, there were fewer empty seats.

After two stops, securing a seat meant acting fast and keeping a sharp eye out.

As Chen Shian watched the world outside while waiting for the bus to start moving again, a sudden rush of air brushed past his ear, carrying with it the distinctive scent of a young girl.

The girl moved quickly, sliding half her small frame onto the seat before her musical voice followed:

“Hello! Is this seat taken?”

She bent slightly toward him, shoulder-length black hair swaying gently. The ends, trimmed like fresh willow twigs in early spring, brushed her ear with a hint of rebellious curve. Her pale, slender arm, exposed under her short-sleeved uniform, still clutched her backpack strap. She looked as if, had Chen Shian said “Yes,” she would have apologized at once and gone in search of another seat.

“No, it’s free. Go ahead,” he replied.

“Oh! Thank you!”

Hearing this, the girl relaxed, settling fully into the seat and hugging her heavy backpack to her chest with a contented sigh.

Perhaps feeling she hadn’t been quite ladylike enough, she gave Chen Shian a sheepish smile. Sunlight angled through the window onto her lively face, a sharp canine tooth pressed against her lip, the healthy flush of exertion coloring her youthful cheeks.

The vitality of the scene was so abundant that even Chen Shian felt the gravity of his own solemnity lighten.

The bus started up again.

The landscape outside rolled by, and Chen Shian continued gazing out the window.

Faintly, the girl’s reflection appeared in the glass beside him.

He saw her take out her phone and open her backpack, searching for something.

After a while, her expression turned frustrated as she muttered quietly to herself, “Oh no, I forgot my headphones…”

Eventually, she seemed to give up on listening to music. The journey was long, and unlike Chen Shian, she struggled to sit quietly. Driven by curiosity, she struck up a conversation:

“Um, are you cosplaying?”

“Hm?” Chen Shian turned to her, puzzled.

“…Are you really a Taoist priest?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh wow, sorry! You look so young, I thought you were cosplaying, but you’re really a Taoist!”

The girl was clearly surprised, wanting to study him but worried about being rude, so she resorted to sneaking glances now and then.

Though Chen Shian didn’t know what “cosplay” meant, he could guess from context that it referred to playing a role.

Since she was so friendly, he replied with interest, “Are you a student?”

“I’m wearing a school uniform—pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“I’m also wearing Taoist robes.”

“That’s exactly why it’s so unusual… Are you really a Taoist?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impressive,” she marveled, “You look about my age. I thought Taoists had to be… um…”

“What?” he prompted.

“Well, at least a lot older.”

—If you’re not old, no one would believe you’re a real Taoist!

The girl struggled to describe her mental image of a Taoist, having had little contact with the profession in her daily life.

Her only impressions came from TV and novels, where Taoists were always otherworldly, powerful, exorcising demons, upholding righteousness.

Come on, this was the modern, technological age—she wasn’t so naive as to believe Chen Shian was like that.

“Can you tell fortunes…?”

“Yes.”

“Bestow blessings?”

“Yes.”

“Perform rites for the dead?”

“Yes.”

“…”

The girl’s eyes widened, her face full of disbelief. He claimed to do all these mystical things—and so young, too?

She finally asked the question she most wanted answered: “Is all that… real?”

Chen Shian smiled, unbothered by her curiosity, but didn’t answer directly. “If you believe, then it’s real.”

“Oh, I get it! Sincerity brings results,” she nodded knowingly, finally letting go of her earlier questions and turning her curiosity to more mundane topics. “So, do Taoist priests have to go to school?”

Chen Shian was about to say no, but then remembered his current journey’s purpose and nodded. “Yes, we do.”

“Did you go to school?”

“No.”

“…”

What! He said Taoists have to go to school, but he’s never suffered through it himself!

The girl looked at him with envy. “Taoists really have it good—no school, no exams, just meditating in the mountains every day? That sounds so relaxing…”

“You don’t like school?”

“No, it’s exhausting.”

Perhaps the upright Taoist garb made her feel at ease; once she started, she couldn’t stop venting.

“You have no idea. We didn’t even have a summer break this year—they kept us in classes right up until two days ago, and then dumped a pile of worksheets and homework on us. I was up past midnight last night and still didn’t finish. I got up after seven this morning to rush my homework and get ready for school—I’m dead tired…”

“I see. What grade are you in?”

“Second year of high school. What time did you get up?”

“Five o’clock.”

“…So, where did you come from?”

“I hiked two hours down the mountain, then took a bus for an hour.”

“…!!”

Is he really a Taoist, or is he made of iron?!

The girl gaped at Chen Shian, studying him. He looked so energetic, it was hard to believe he’d gotten up at five, walked two hours, and ridden a bus for an hour.

If it were her, she’d have collapsed halfway. Could it be that this young Taoist really had some supernatural energy?

“How do you do it…? Don’t Taoist priests get tired?”

“Just drink some of this.” Chen Shian smiled, holding up the bottle of glucose water.

The girl laughed too.

A Taoist drinking glucose—what a strange image.

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