I'm Not An Immortal (The Adventure of Jian Chou) - Chapter 4
Chapter 4
“Are you really going back?”
Since starting up the slope, the Wandering Taoist had hardly spoken, but seeing Jianchou’s face full of longing, he couldn’t help but ask.
Before Jianchou could answer, he added, “You were buried already, so maybe the people in your village all think you’re dead. If you go back now, you’ll scare a bunch of them to death. Coming back from the dead—it’s terrifying to ordinary people. Be careful they don’t grab you, tie you to a post, and burn you!”
It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Jianchou glanced back at the Wandering Taoist and asked, “Are you worried that I’ll be burned to death?”
“Nonsense! You women always think too much of yourselves!” The Wandering Taoist snorted coldly.
“I’m only concerned that all the virtue I’ve built up will go to waste. If you get burned to death, wouldn’t my saving you have been for nothing?”
“So you are worried I’ll be burned to death?”
Jianchou couldn’t help but laugh.
The Wandering Taoist’s eyes widened, and he was left speechless.
“This taoist is too lazy to argue with you ordinary folks! And you talk about gratitude and loyalty? Are you mocking this taoist because I’ve only been here for a few hundred years?”
“A few hundred years?” Jianchou looked surprised.
The wandering taoist waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing her away like a pesky mosquito.
“Matters of adults are none of your concern, young girl.”
There was something intriguing about the phrase “a few hundred years.”
Though curious, Jianchou didn’t press further.
The Wandering Taoist was, well… mouthy, dirty, and had a certain indescribable sleaziness, but he did seem to have a decent heart.
Jianchou didn’t dislike him.
Starting forward again, she headed toward the road outside.
The Wandering Taoist muttered, “Ah, truly, there’s no stopping you. What good can come of going back? What if there’s someone else there? What if your house is gone? What if your husband is still there? And what if you see him cuddling with another woman?”
“…”
Jianchou’s steps suddenly halted, and she paused in silence, then looked up at The Wandering Taoist.
“If so, I’ll kill him.”
Kill him?
Such a clean, decisive response!
The Wandering Taoist hadn’t expected such words to come from Jianchou’s mouth.
She was just a frail woman—how could she compare to a man?
But…
Why did it sound so satisfying?
By then, Jianchou was already heading out again.
Watching her thin figure in the distance, The Wandering Taoist’s eyes lit up.
The thought that had been flitting in his mind now began to emerge more clearly.
Actually, The Wandering Taoist was a firm believer in fate.
Meeting Jianchou—wasn’t that fate too?
He stood in place, pondering for a long time, and when he snapped back to reality, Jianchou’s figure was nowhere in sight.
“Where’d she go?”
He blinked in surprise, then looked around. Jianchou had somehow managed to slip far ahead.
“Why are you walking so fast? You just came back to life; aren’t you worried you’ll die again? Truly infuriating, absolutely infuriating! Hey, wait up!”
He shouted all the way, but his pace didn’t increase.
With one big step, he suddenly appeared beside Jianchou in the next instant.
“Honestly, no respect for the elderly!”
Jianchou was already somewhat familiar with his abilities, but seeing him appear by her side in one stride still made her eyes widen in surprise.
The Wandering Taoist raised his eyebrow smugly.
“See that? This is called Shrinking the Ground into an Inch!”
A spell name, perhaps?
This was the kind of immortal Xie Buchen had in mind?
Suppressing her astonishment—or rather, amazement—Jianchou finally said, “It seems impressive.”
“Of course!”
The Wandering Taoist immediately puffed up with pride.
Jianchou smiled and, without another word, continued walking.
Ahead, the outline of a small village could already be seen clearly.
They stood on the mountain, looking down at the hollow below.
As dusk deepened, the night gradually spread, slowly blanketing everything.
One by one, the small lights began to glow in the village, lighting up the windows of each household.
If one looked closely, shadows could be seen passing behind the windows.
A faint hint of smoke drifted on the wind.
The Wandering Taoist sniffed deeply, taking in the scent.
“Ah, someone’s roasting suckling pig! And wild chicken too! Smells so good!”
Closer to home, more apprehensive.
Yet as she stood high up, looking at the village, a swirl of emotions stirred within Jianchou’s chest.
The spot where she’d been wounded by the sword seemed to ache faintly again.
Jianchou was almost impatient to return and see how it had all changed.
They followed the mountain path down.
It looked close, but by the time Jianchou reached the village entrance, it was late night, with a slanted moon hanging high.
As usual, the Wandering Taoist followed beside Jianchou easily, looking around as though searching for something delicious.
Her house was at the eastern edge of the village; she’d nearly have to cross the entire settlement to get there.
On either side of the village paths, whether narrow or wide, bundles of firewood for cooking were piled up.
At the very center of the village stood a large, ancient tree.
In summer, its dense foliage shaded everything below, and if one looked up, they’d see the wish ribbons hanging from its branches.
The closer to the eastern edge, the fewer households there were, with only a scattering of lights in the dark.
Jianchou walked quietly, yet her steps startled some of the village dogs.
“Woof, woof…”
A bark rang out in the night.
Then came a sudden shuffling noise, as though someone was getting up, calling out, “Who’s there?”
Jianchou stopped, glancing to the side.
With a creak, the door of a nearby house opened.
A round-faced farm woman peeked out and saw Jianchou walking on the path.
She looked surprised. “Ah, it’s Mrs. Xie! How come you’re back? Didn’t Scholar Xie take you to the city to live the good life just the day before?”
Living the good life in the city?
The day before?
Jianchou froze for a moment, and then quickly understood.
It seemed the villagers still had no idea that she had already died once; apparently, Xie Buchen had told everyone that he was taking her to the city.
With a faint smile, Jianchou kindly said to the farmer’s wife, “Thank you, Sister Zhang, for your concern. I left some things behind, so I’ve come back to find them.”
“Oh, I see.”
Sister Zhang didn’t seem suspicious; she knew this young couple was deeply in love, and their status was unique—Xie Buchen was on the path to becoming an official someday.
With a warm, simple smile, she said, “Now that you’re in the city, do come back often. And if there’s anything tasty there, don’t forget to share it with us!”
“Yes.”
Jianchou responded, but she noticed that Sister Zhang’s gaze was fixed on her the whole time, as if she couldn’t see the Wandering Taoist standing beside her at all.
How odd.
The Wandering Taoist, however, raised his brows smugly and stayed silent.
Sister Zhang noticed nothing unusual.
The night obscured the bloodstains on Jianchou’s clothing, and she simply urged, “If you’re grabbing your things, best be quick. I thought you were someone else at this hour. Do visit often!”
“Alright.”
With that, Jianchou responded, and Sister Zhang finally withdrew, shutting the door behind her.
The dog stopped barking, and the night sank back into silence.
Jianchou stood still for a long moment before resuming her steps.
Ahead lay her home—a small courtyard, entirely dark, with no light to be seen.
The Wandering Taoist tapped his bamboo staff on the ground, making no sound at all, as he observed, “Looks like everyone thinks you’re alive. Is this your home?”
Jianchou nodded and stopped walking.
Before her was a modest farmhouse, enclosed by a wooden fence, with a gate facing south, made of rough wood and topped with straw thatch to block the rain.
At that moment, a small brass lock still hung on the gate.
The door was locked.
An overwhelming wave of memories swept through Jianchou’s mind.
She stepped forward, standing at the gate, and rose on tiptoe, reaching for the doorframe.
Her fingers found a cold, hard object.
She took it out and placed it in her palm; it was indeed a key.
Even though Xie Buchen had left under false pretenses, the key was still left where it always was…
Jianchou blinked, a surge of melancholy rising in her chest, and she nearly lost control and started to cry.
She already knew he wasn’t there when she saw the lock.
But as she found the key, she was certain that the feelings he’d shown back then hadn’t been feigned.
“This life, I’ve failed you. If there is reincarnation in the six realms, in the next life, you’re free to come and demand my life.”
Jianchou wanted to find him to claim that debt.
With these thoughts swirling, she pushed the tears back, unlocked the gate, and pushed it open.
A quiet, drawn-out creak echoed in the silence.
The courtyard was tidy, almost devoid of weeds.
Along the western wall was a small fence, where a flock of geese had once resided.
Now, only one goose remained, huddled in the corner, fast asleep.
Facing her were three rooms, the doors unlocked but only loosely shut.
A blue oil-paper umbrella, which Xie Buchen had once brought back, stood leaning against the doorframe.
Jianchou walked in.
The Wandering Taoist, peering around as he followed her, muttered with a click of his tongue at the scene, “Your place is really quite rundown. What’s the point of coming back? Anyway, I saved your life, didn’t I? I say, why not take me as your master? I could take you around the world, and maybe, just maybe, you’d meet him somewhere across the six realms and nineteen regions. What do you say? All you have to do—”
Before he could finish, he froze.
Passing by the goose’s enclosure, he caught sight of that lone, fat white goose huddled in the corner, fast asleep.
His eyes gleamed.
What a fine goose!
Its feathers shone, plump and round—a perfect meal for the pot!
Unable to resist, the Wandering Taoist swallowed a gulp of saliva and stepped over the fence with one long stride.
As he did, he turned to Jianchou and said, “Hey, if you let me have this goose, I’ll waive all apprenticeship fees!”
Jianchou continued walking toward the doorway without responding.
The Wandering Taoist didn’t mind, his gaze fixed solely on that fat goose.
He crouched beside it, gingerly reaching out to stroke its head, as if petting a beloved child.
“What a fat goose…”
Meanwhile, Jianchou reached the door, unaware of what the Wandering Taoist was up to behind her.
She pushed the door open and was met with utter darkness.
Following her memory, she felt her way to the windowsill, found a fire stick, and with a gentle breath, a faint flame flickered to life, illuminating the familiar, simple furnishings of the house.
Three stools, a square table, an unlit oil lamp, a stack of folded clothes, and an unfinished sewing project lay in plain sight.
Jianchou felt as though her feet had turned to lead, unable to move.
She walked to the table, brought the fire stick to the oil lamp, lit it, and then extinguished the fire stick.
The small, weak flame cast soft, wavering shadows across her face.
She sat on a stool, looking at the empty room.
The wall across from her was bare.
The sword was gone.
An emptiness settled in her heart.
She reached for the clothes on the table.
Every garment was Xie Buchen’s, each stitch meticulously fine.
In the sewing basket beside her, a pair of scissors, used for trimming fabric, lay within reach.
Jianchou instinctively reached for the scissors.
Yet as she lifted them, something beneath the sewing basket caught her eye—a small rattle drum, next to a length of red cord, tied to a small silver lock engraved with the character “Xie.”
Her hand trembled.
The rattle drum was something she had bought from a peddler upon discovering her pregnancy; the silver lock had been Xie Buchen’s from childhood.
He had said that when they had a child, he would pass down the little silver lock.
She had threaded the red cord through it herself.
Seeing these things now…
The scissors wrapped in red cloth slipped from her hand, back into the sewing basket.
A sharp, aching sorrow gripped her heart.
Slowly, she withdrew her hand and instinctively placed it on her flat abdomen.
Abruptly, she turned and shouted into the darkness beyond the doorway, “Taoist! Taoist!”
Out in the courtyard, the Wandering Taoist had both hands around the goose’s neck.
The startled goose flapped its wings wildly, sending feathers flying and mud splattering everywhere, leaving the Wandering Taoist in utter disarray.
The stubborn goose!
How dare it resist like this!
Filled with annoyance, he swallowed hungrily, about to go through with his plans, when Jianchou’s call startled him.
He quickly released his grip, raised both hands in the air, and shouted back, “I wasn’t stealing the goose!”
Jianchou had risen and was standing unsteadily, illuminated by the faint glow of the oil lamp, her shadow barely visible.
The Wandering Taoist couldn’t see her expression clearly.
“Taoist,” she said, voice trembling, “I… I’m actually with child. Could you… would you check my pulse?”
