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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.
“Sir, you truly live a carefree life,” the Emperor remarked with a chuckle.
“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...
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