Unintended Immortality

Chapter 332: Lady Calico, Don't Be Too Diligent!

Sunlight streamed in through the doorway, forming patches of light on the wooden floor as dust motes danced in the air.

Inside, a wooden table separated the Daoist and the young girl, each sitting at one end, absorbed in their respective books.

“Lights lit in the east, the west shines bright,

In every home, young ladies weave through the night.

Small looms and large clatter with song,

By dawn, three zhang and eight are spun strong...”

The little girl read aloud, her voice clear and deliberate. Compared to the students in school, she only lacked the habit of nodding her head as she read.

The Daoist rubbed his ears, glancing at her with mild exasperation. He shifted his posture slightly but chose to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, sinking back into his own book.

It had been nearly six years since that chance meeting on a boat along the Liujiang River. They had spent a few days together, exchanging stories and ideas. The scholar, fascinated by tales of spirits and the supernatural, had shared his interests, ambitions, and questions about the world of immortals and demons. He had also captivated everyone on the boat with his storytelling.

And now, that day had come.

Song You turned the pages carefully.

Within just a few pages, he encountered a familiar tale—one he had heard directly from the mouth of the scholar surnamed Fu during their time on the boat.

Of course, the stories had evolved in their written form. Transcribed from spoken word into polished text, the differences between vernacular language and classical prose were evident. Some stories had been restructured, edited, or expanded, while others included the author’s reflections and insights, inviting deeper thought from the reader.

For the Daoist, however, the primary experience was one of familiarity. The tales acted as a hook, drawing forth vivid memories of those days six years ago.

For a moment, it felt as though the voice of that carefree and uninhibited scholar rose from the words on the page, accompanied by the sound of splashing water, the cries of monkeys on the riverbanks, and the occasional singing of the boatman.

Song You almost felt himself transported back to the boat on the Liujiang River six years ago, sitting at the prow alongside Lady Calico, listening to the scholar tell his tales.

The scholar’s carefully curated stories weren’t merely about the “strange” and “unusual.” They often reflected the customs of a particular time and place or contained a certain charm and wit. Reading them now, the Daoist couldn’t help but smile as he became immersed in the tales.

“Along the Zhang River, many daughters sing,

Shunning work for songs they bring.

With yellow sticks tucked at their side,

They climb to poke at wild bird nests high.

In the nest, they find a surprise,

An egg bundle they take with pride.

Back home, Grandma sets it to boil,

But no matter how long, it won’t spoil.

Sweating, Grandma can only sigh,

One bead, then another, dripping by—

Dripping sweat, oh dripping sweat,

drip-ping sweat...”

Lady Calico, with no formal instruction, read aloud in her own natural rhythm.

But as she finished, she scratched her head.

The nursery rhyme was simple enough, and Lady Calico, having been learning to read for several years, could understand most of it, half by recognition and half by guessing. She found the rhyme amusing—particularly because it described something she herself often did.

Apparently, other little humans did such things too. She had thought only that girl next door would.

Glancing up, she noticed the Daoist engrossed in his book. Judging by his expression, his book seemed far more intriguing than her nursery rhymes.

Lady Calico stared at him blankly for a while, then set down her book, stood up, and slowly shuffled over to him.

“Daoist priest, what are you reading?”

The Daoist paused, looked up, and answered, “A book.”

“What kind of book?”

“A storybook.”

“Is it good?”

“Better than yours.”

“Then why don’t you let me read it?”

“It’s not that I won’t let you read it. Once I finish, you can have it.”

“What about those other ones?”

“Those are for children to read. This one can be read by both adults and children. But children should still read books meant for them—it’s helpful for your growth.”

“Oh...”

Still unconvinced, the little girl walked closer, grabbed a handful of his robe with one hand and his sleeve with the other. Both her hands were tiny. She leaned half her head out from beside his arm, her round eyes filled with seriousness as she stared at the book in his hands, unblinking.

Whenever she didn’t understand something, she’d ask the Daoist questions. Sometimes, when he turned the page, she’d flip it back.

The more she looked, the more she realized—what the Daoist was reading did seem far more interesting than her books.

Just then, the doorway darkened, and Heroine Wu strode in effortlessly, carrying a long couch over her shoulder. Carefully stepping through the entrance, she turned her head and saw them.

“Where should I—oh, reading, are we?”

“Yes,” the Daoist said, closing his book and standing up. The little girl stood straight as well, tilting her head to peer at the woman. “We bought a few beginner’s books for Lady Calico and a storybook written by an old friend to pass the time. You can just put it right here.”

“You don’t need help taking it upstairs?”

“It’s not heavy. We can manage it ourselves.”

“Alright, then.”

Without any pretense, Heroine Wu lowered the couch from her shoulder and set it down. Taking a few steps over, she casually picked up a book from the table, flipping it over in her hands before glancing at the Daoist and the little girl. “You two really know how to enjoy life, don’t you?”

“Winter is quiet, and the cold weather makes it the season for leisure. Sitting in the sun or by the fire, brewing tea and reading books—it’s a refined way to spend the time.”

“What’s this book meant to teach?”

“Not much. It helps with literacy, sentence-making, cultural understanding, and learning a few simple poems.”

“Literacy and sentence-making...” Heroine Wu nodded thoughtfully, seeming to find the books worthwhile. She said, “Lady Calico only has one pair of eyes and can’t read all these at once. I’ve got some free time lately, lend me one to read.”

“Please, take whichever you like,” the Daoist replied.

“But these are for children,” Lady Calico said earnestly.

“No problem.” Heroine Wu waved her hand nonchalantly. “My education level probably isn’t higher than yours. I might not even know as many words as you do, so these are just what I need.”

“Oh, then you can have one,” the little girl said immediately. “But don’t mess it up; these cost quite a bit of money.”

“Lady Calico is very capable,” the Daoist said with a smile. “If you encounter words you don’t know or parts you don't understand, you can always ask Lady Calico for guidance.”

“...!”

Heroine Wu didn’t respond right away, but Lady Calico’s expression suddenly froze. Her tiny frame tensed as she held her breath.

Heroine Wu, noticing this, glanced at the Daoist and then at the little girl beside him. The child now wore a stern expression, staring at her intently. This made Heroine Wu burst into laughter.

“Alright, if there’s anything I can’t figure out, I’ll come to Lady Calico. You’ll be my little teacher.”

Little teacher?

Lady Calico stood there, stunned. Her whole body stiffened, and her expression turned blank. She stared at Heroine Wu, her small chest puffing up as she took a deep breath.

“Then I’ll take this one—Hundred Family Surnames. It’s simple.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll bring your rocking chair over later.”

“We have the couch now; I’ll leave the rocking chair with you, Heroine.”

“I already bought another one.”

“That works too.”

Heroine Wu took the book and was about to leave but paused at the doorway. Turning back with a smile, she teased the little girl, “Lady Calico, you’d better study hard! When I come to ask questions, don’t let me find that my teacher can’t help me out.”

With that, she stepped out and walked away.

Lady Calico stood still for a long moment, her thoughts seemingly tangled. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head toward the Daoist and asked, “Am I really going to become a teacher?”

“Why not?” the Daoist replied.

“Can a cat be a teacher for grown-ups?” The little girl’s expression was both solemn and incredulous.

“Lady Calico, that’s the wrong way to go about it.”

The Daoist chuckled, shaking his head before speaking in a calm, measured tone: “As the saying goes, learning knows no age or seniority, and those who excel can be teachers. Since knowing you, I’ve learned many things from you.

“Now, through your intelligence, wits, and diligent study, your knowledge has surpassed Heroine Wu in some areas. Naturally, you can teach her in those aspects—like helping her learn to read.”

“Ah...”

She could be a teacher?

Lady Calico was so stunned she almost forgot to breathe.

Who could have imagined that a little cat could not only have a fine horse of her own but also be qualified to teach others?

Learning knows no age or seniority, and those who excel can be teachers?

The Daoist sure had a way with words…

Just then, the Daoist’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “But...”

Whoosh! Lady Calico immediately turned to stare at him.

“But what?!”

“But Heroine Wu is still an adult. Some words and phrases may be unfamiliar to her in writing or pronunciation, but she’s likely encountered many of them in daily life. Now, the book she took is Hundred Family Surnames, a text listing common surnames to help with literacy. Heroine Wu will definitely ask questions, and you will surely have the answers. But I imagine she’ll learn quite quickly.”

The Daoist said thoughtfully, as if putting himself in Lady Calico’s shoes, “But once she finishes reading this Three Character Classic and moves on to other books, things will get more challenging—especially with Nursery Rhymes, the Thousand Character Classic, and the Poems of a Thousand Masters...”

“...”

The little girl’s brow furrowed as she listened. Her tiny hands balled into fists, and a sense of urgency and worry crept over her.

What to do…

And then the Daoist added, “If, in a few days, she brings words or phrases from The Thousand Character Classic or poems from Poems of a Thousand Masters to ask you how to read them or what they mean, and you can’t answer… Well, wouldn’t that be… such a shame.”

“...!”

The little girl’s eyes widened in alarm.

Her fists clenched even tighter.

Thank goodness the Daoist reminded me! I almost made a fool of myself! It’s always the grown-ups who think things through!

“Where are you going?” The Daoist’s question followed as Lady Calico suddenly turned and bolted toward the books on the table.

“To read!”

“Not reading my book anymore?”

“Not anymore!”

“Why?”

“I need to read mine first!”

“Sigh, Lady Calico, you must know, everything should be done in moderation. Though reading and cultivation are different, it’s still best to take things step by step—you mustn’t exhaust yourself over it,” said Song You, picking up his own book.

He looked at the little girl across from him, engrossed in her reading, and continued, “I know you are diligent and exceptionally talented, but please, do remember to take breaks.”

“I know!” Lady Calico nodded firmly.

At that moment, the doorway darkened again.

Heroine Wu came in, carrying the rocking chair, and happened to overhear their conversation. She couldn’t help wrinkling her face and casting a glance at the Daoist, as if seeing a new side of him for the first time.

She shook her head, set down the chair, and left without a word.

“...”

The Daoist noticed her look but didn’t mind. He simply shook his head, returning to his book.

As he read on, he came across a familiar title: AnEncounter With the Immortal on Liujiang River.

The following days continued in much the same way.

However, the pleasant weather soon gave way to a persistent winter rain. Misty drizzle hung in the air, and cold dampness rose, shrouding the centuries-old streets of Changjing.

Yet indoors, by the warmth of the hearth, brewing tea, reading books, occasionally answering Lady Calico’s questions about difficult passages, or roasting dried fruits and rice cakes to snack on—it was a different kind of contentment altogether.

Sometimes, when he didn’t feel like getting out of bed, the Daoist would read while tucked under the covers.

Breakfast? The little one always took the initiative to fetch it. He couldn’t stop her even if he wanted to.

In the north, he might have seemed like an immortal in the eyes of others, but back in Changjing, this was the kind of life that felt truly divine to him.