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“Lady Calico.”
“Hmm?”
“The snow must be really cold, right?”
“I have fur under my paws.”
“But it’s still cold, isn’t it?”
“I’m not afraid of the cold.”
“Then, may I hug you, Lady Calico?”
“...?”
The calico cat, mid-step, paused and turned to stare at him. After a moment, she finally spoke, “You may.”
With that, she stepped toward the Daoist. The Daoist bent down and gently picked her up.
The wind was bitterly cold, and although Lady Calico’s body was covered in fur, her outer coat felt chilly at first touch. Yet, the cat’s natural warmth was undeniable. With a slight squeeze, the heat beneath her fur radiated through, bringing a comforting warmth.
In Hezhou, especially in Gui Commandery, the people had suffered greatly—war and demons, drought and plague, the hardships were endless.
The Daoist was but a traveler passing through; the battles couldn’t harm him, nor did he fear the demons. The drought had ended, and the plague posed no threat to him. However, traversing this land, it was impossible not to be affected by the sorrow lingering in the air.
Holding Lady Calico in his arms was the only way to find a bit of inner peace.
And it wasn’t just for this moment. For the past four or five years, it had always been this way.
They continued their journey north.
This land was vast and flat. The heavy snow painted the...
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