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“Flutter, flutter…”
The swallow returned, and with it came the short sword. Without a word, it perched on a bamboo tip and began grooming its feathers.
The Daoist was still sitting at the doorway, waiting.
The sun sank in the west; twilight brought drifting wisps of mist.
The Daoist sat there all night. Lady Calico and little Jiang Han also sat there all night. The swallow stayed on its bamboo perch all night. And the yellow dog, too, lay in front of them, keeping its eyes on them the whole night and guarding faithfully. When the chickens returned to their coop, it lay at the coop’s door; when they came out, it stood watch over them.
It wasn’t until the next morning that the dog suddenly turned its head, looking off into the distance. Then it ignored the Daoist entirely, bounded off, and disappeared into the bamboo grove.
Song You knew at once that its master had returned.
A moment later, a faint ding-ding sound echoed through the mountains. It was likely the bell on a mule or horse, though it was hard to tell from where.
The sound drew nearer, clearer.
Now its direction was obvious, but the secluded dwelling was blocked by dense bamboo; the Daoist couldn’t see anything.
Even so, the Daoist before the bamboo...
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