Tao Mian paid the boat fare, stepped ashore, and followed the embankment all the way into the city until he reached its largest money house.
The clerk inside took one look at his plain, understated clothes and couldn’t be bothered to spare him a proper glance. Tao Mian was glancing around, unsure how to announce himself, when a thin, tall middle-aged steward caught sight of the jade pendant at his waist. The man’s eyes went round, and he rushed forward with a deep bow.
“The Grand Manager is here? The Second Manager has been waiting for you in the inner chamber.”
The clerk’s jaw nearly hit the floor. This young man who looked barely past twenty was the Grand Manager?
The steward smacked the back of the clerk’s head and scolded him for being blind-couldn’t even recognize a person of importance. The clerk felt deeply wronged. What person of importance dressed this cheaply?
Tao Mian watched their little performance with amusement and waved a hand. That was quite enough.
The money house was bustling with traffic. The steward led Tao Mian through a private corridor to the most secluded room in the building.
The door stood half-open. From inside came the sound of pages turning-someone leafing through account books.
The steward brought Tao Mian to the threshold, lowered his voice, and squeezed out a smile.
“The Second Manager is right inside. He left word earlier-the Grand Manager should go straight in.”
Tao Mian hesitated, rooted to the spot.
“Would it trouble you terribly, Steward, to escort me in?”
The steward retreated half a step and let out a dry laugh, looking equally unwilling to face the Second Manager head-on.
“G-Grand Manager, sir, the Second Manager gave clear instructions. I really can’t overstep.”
Tao Mian took a large step backward.
“Now listen to yourself. With the Grand Manager right here, what have you got to be afraid of? I’ll back you up.”
The steward retreated three steps.
“The Grand Manager jests. Why would I be afraid? It’s only that the establishment is so busy, we really can’t spare the hands…”
The two of them stood at the doorway, trading courtesies and excuses back and forth-neither willing to go in, neither willing to let the other leave.
Until a clear, unhurried male voice drifted out from within.
“Steward Li, go attend to your work. Tao Mian, come in.”
Steward Li wished he could sprout two extra legs. He blurted out “This humble one takes his leave” and fled at top speed.
Little Immortal Tao was left standing there all by himself.
“What-do I need to come out and fetch you personally?”
The voice inside spoke again.
Tao Mian steeled himself. His mouth was saying, “You’re nothing like the obedient child you used to be-how dare you call your benefactor by name,” but his feet were already carrying him briskly through the door.
He wasn’t afraid. He simply knew how to read a situation.
Inside, wisps of sandalwood incense curled through the air. Behind a broad, heavy desk, a young man in rich purple robes held an account book in one hand while flicking the beads of a rosewood abacus with the other. He didn’t look up when the door closed.
If the enemy doesn’t move, I don’t move.
Tao Mian kept his mouth shut too, waiting to see what nonsense the man would pull this time.
The young man didn’t leave him hanging for long. After turning one more page, he spoke.
“So you’ve finally dragged yourself away from that shabby little mountain of yours?”
Tao Mian’s warning came out with very little conviction. Xue Han smiled faintly-a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Little Immortal Tao knew that smile far too well. A chill ran down his spine.
“You… Huh??”
Three golden ropes materialized from nowhere, coiling against Tao Mian’s clothes like clinging serpents, binding him tight. Tao Mian yelped in shock and panic, thrashing with everything he had.
“Don’t squirm. The more you struggle, the tighter they get.”
Xue Han reminded him at a leisurely pace.
“The Immortal-Binding Rope! Xue Han, you absolute pervert! You’ve really outdone yourself this time! Using a Magical Artifact like this on your own lifesaver! Let me go!”
Tao Mian flopped around on the soft, luxurious carpet like a fish tossed onto a riverbank.
Xue Han’s mood brightened considerably. He reined in his smile, strolled over to Tao Mian, and bent down.
His fingers hooked under the rope, testing the tightness. He looked thoroughly satisfied.
Tao Mian glared daggers at him.
The purple-robed young man pretended not to notice. He fetched a chair himself, crossed one leg over the other, flicked his robes smooth, and settled in at his ease before his former benefactor.
“That little disciple of yours isn’t going to die in the next little while, and you don’t seem to be in any rush. Why not stay as a guest at my residence? I’ll see to your entertainment personally.”
“Tch. This is your idea of hospitality?” Tao Mian turned his face away. “This immortal is a busy man. I’ve no time for wining and dining.”
“Oh dear, you see, I’m getting on in years now, and my memory just isn’t what it used to be. That remedy for saving your disciple-someone mentioned it to me once, but I can’t recall a single word of it.” Xue Han put on a befuddled expression and tapped his own head twice with a paper fan.
Tao Mian: …
“Fine, I’ll eat! I’ll eat, are you happy now?!”
“Don’t look so aggrieved,” Xue Han said, his good mood practically carved across his forehead. “It’s not as though I’d let you go hungry.”
Hearing a sliver of give in his tone, Tao Mian’s eyes darted, and his mind started working again.
“Since I’ve already agreed, untie me.”
“Well, about that…”
Xue Han drew the words out, watching the spark of hope rekindle in Tao Mian’s eyes.
His gold-flecked paper fan snapped open with a crisp rustle, hiding the sly, calculating curve of his lips.
“No.”
“…”
Tao Mian was livid.
“You’ve changed. Changed beyond recognition. You weren’t like this when you were little.”
Xue Han toyed with the silk tassel dangling from his folding fan and replied in a voice dripping with dark amusement.
“And who, pray tell, should I thank for that?”
“…”
Fine. Part of it was his fault.
The tangled debt of favors between Xue Han and Tao Mian stretched back many years-to around the time Gu Yuan was seven or eight.
Back then, Xue Han had been nothing more than a child Tao Mian picked up by the roadside.
Or rather… a little demon.
It happened when Gu Yuan was playing on the mountain and got bitten by a rare venomous snake. Several of the herbs needed for the antidote couldn’t be found anywhere on the mountain, so Tao Mian had no choice but to go down to the town pharmacy alone.
He was leaving with a bundle of medicine packets, retracing his steps, when he rounded a corner and a ragged child threw himself at his leg.
If it had been an ordinary little beggar, Tao Mian would have tossed him a few coins and moved on. But this child-heaven knew what cruelties he’d endured-had arms and legs covered in ligature marks, burns, and the pale ridges of scars left by blades. It was a wretched sight.
Tao Mian had already walked more than a dozen steps past the corner. Then the image of the child’s wounds surfaced in his mind. He gritted his teeth, turned around, and went back.
The boy was still there, only now he’d lost consciousness.
Tao Mian tucked the medicine packets into his mustard-seed pouch, muttering that his soft heart would be the death of him sooner or later, and hoisted the frail child onto his back. He found a medical hall and had the boy looked over.
The child had no serious ailments-he’d simply fainted from hunger. Since there was nothing truly wrong, Tao Mian figured he’d slip some money into the boy’s clothes and quietly take his leave.
But just as he was about to hand over every last coin he carried, the boy opened his eyes.
Awake was even better. Tao Mian explained his plan and told the boy to use the money to buy himself something to eat.
He had to get back to the mountain. His disciple was waiting.
But the child caught the corner of his robe. Said nothing. Didn’t shed a single tear. Just stared at him in silence.
Very stubborn. And very small, and very pitiful.
Tao Mian’s head began to throb.
He was an immortal, over a thousand years old. He understood perfectly well that one shouldn’t form karmic ties on a whim. He already had one disciple saddled with a blood feud-that was trouble enough. If he took in another child of unknown origins, could he ever go back to the carefree, unburdened life he used to enjoy?
Tao Mian forced himself to harden his heart. He pried the child’s fingers from his outer robe and tried to reason with him.
“Look, you and I are complete strangers. I’m giving you every coin I have-consider it a proper farewell to this chance encounter. How does that sound?”
The light in the child’s eyes dimmed. He lay back down on the cot, curled up like a shrimp, and wrapped his thin arms around himself.
Tao Mian squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look. He pressed the money pouch into the physician’s hands and walked out without turning back.
…
He didn’t make it to a count of ten before he came striding back through the door.
“Forget it, forget it-in for a copper, in for a tael! I’ll find you a decent place to stay, and after that, don’t come looking for me again! Honestly, I can’t believe myself…”
Still grumbling under his breath, he scooped the child onto his back once more.
It was early autumn. The sky stretched overhead in a single sweep of blue. Golden leaves blanketed the stone path before the medical hall-a fine season of warm oranges and deep greens.
Even many years later, when Xue Han closed his eyes, he could still reach across the years and feel the gentle warmth of the sunlight that had fallen on his face that day.
The beginning of the story had been so beautiful…