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On one side lay the terraced fields and mountain village; on the other, the sea of clouds and sky.
They hadn’t walked far when a middle-aged man, accompanied by his attendants, came stumbling along the narrow path between the fields, rushing toward them.
The man was plump, dressed in splendid robes, with an ornamental longsword hanging at his waist. As he ran, he panted heavily, drenched in sweat, the sword swaying wildly with every step. Compared to a few years ago, there were now streaks of gray at his temples, and his face had grown more weathered.
“Up ahead! There he is!” one of the attendants shouted, pointing forward.
The middle-aged man had also spotted Song You and his party. But instead of slowing down, he ran even faster.
Only when he reached Song You did he finally stop. Unable to help himself, he bent forward, bracing his hands on his thighs and gasping for breath. Then he straightened up with effort and cupped his hands in a respectful salute.
“Greetings, sir.”
No sooner had he spoken than he bent over again, hands on his thighs, still panting.
“Greetings, Mr. Liu,” The Daoist also stopped and returned the salute.
Compared to the merchant, who was gasping so hard he could barely stand straight, the Daoist stood calmly, as straight and composed as a pine tree.
“It’s been years. How have you been, sir?”
“Safe for the time being,” Song You replied with a smile. “Why the rush, Mr. Liu?”
“Sigh...”
The man surnamed Liu still...
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