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“Clink, clink, clang, clang…”
In the mountains, there were no other sounds, only the clear and ethereal jingling of bells echoing through the white clouds.
There were three people and a donkey.
A frail and thin middle-aged man wearing a large robe and a bamboo hat with a beard rode on the back of a scraggly donkey. The large robe covered his legs, and both he and the donkey looked weak and thin, creating a strangely harmonious image of mutual frailty.
What a delicate and refined scholar he appeared to be.
The two companions beside him were a round-faced man about eighteen or nineteen carrying a knapsack and leading the donkey, and a man in his twenties carrying a bow and a long sword with a determined look.
“Sir, there’s someone ahead.”
“It looks like a Daoist priest.”
“Let’s go and see!”
The man on the donkey squinted and tried to make out the figure ahead. After years of studying, he could no longer see clearly as his eyesight had dimmed, but he still looked excited.
As they approached, he could finally see more clearly. Indeed, it was a Daoist priest.
The man’s eyes immediately lit up. Since they were at Yunding Mountain, could he be an immortal?
But upon catching a glimpse of the horse grazing nearby and the bag lying on the ground out of the corners of his eyes, he felt a pang of disappointment, though he didn’t show it. Instead, he rode up on a donkey, dismounted, and cupped his hands in a...
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