Unintended Immortality

On the first day of the Lunar New Year, it was the time for Hansu County’s annual deity worship.

Hezhou was once a major grain-producing region with a dense population. Hansu was a large county situated near He Plains, with at least 200,000 residents in the past.

It was said that even within the city alone, there were 20,000 to 30,000 people. But over time, wars and demons took their toll, and many lives were lost. Precisely because of this, the people came to understand the terror of demons.

Thus, when the Snow Temples were built, every year on the first day of the Lunar New Year and the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, nearly all of Hansu’s remaining able-bodied citizens would gather at the temples along the Snowy Plains’s edge to offer their prayers. Many people would carry baskets or shoulder poles filled with incense, stopping at each temple without missing a single one.

Back then, the temples were shrouded in clouds of incense smoke, and the worshippers formed an unbroken line along the Snowy Plains’s edge. Sometimes, long queues would stretch out in front of the temple gates.

The county seat became a ghost town, and the villages were left empty. Any newly appointed county magistrate who witnessed this scene was invariably struck with awe.

Even in the past two years, with droughts ravaging Hezhou, the people’s determination to offer incense remained unshaken. However, after the recent plague, it was different. Many had died, and Hansu County was still under lockdown, with strict control over who could enter or leave.

While the city was sealed off, the villages were not.

Amidst the vast expanse, scattered black figures still dotted the landscape. They were bundled in thick clothing, covering their noses and mouths, braving the wind and snow.

The nearest village to the Snowy Plains’s edge, where the Daoist had spent the night in the temple, was about twenty li away. At first light, a woman set out with her child, carrying a basket filled with straw incense. It took her over an hour to reach the Snow Temple.

The snow was too deep, and the wind too fierce.

The woman walked head-on into the wind, the child weak and young, stumbling with each step, sometimes pushed off the path by a sudden gust.

Perhaps it was a sign of divine mercy, for as they approached, the wind and snow seemed to ease a bit.

“Mom.”

“Don’t talk too much.”

“Why are there so few people this year?”

“There’s a plague this year.”

“Did everyone die?”

“…” The woman didn’t answer directly. Instead, she said, “Fewer people is better—less chance of spreading the disease.”

“But the village chief said after drinking the divine water sent by the Land Lady, we won’t get sick anymore.”

“Better to stay cautious.”

“The snow is so deep here!”

“Talk less.”

“Why are we coming here to pray? Why not just pray to the Land Lady?”

“I told you to talk less.”

“But why?”

“Because there’s a demon here. It wants to come out and eat people, and it’s spreading disease too. It’s only because there are heavenly gods, and they built temples here, that the demon doesn’t dare to come out. We’re offering incense so the gods will protect us from being eaten by the demon, and help this plague end soon,” the woman explained, panting.

She continued, “When we get back, we’ll go pray to the Land Lady too.”

“A demon? Where is it?”

“Right behind these temples, deep within that Snowy Plains, far inside.”

“What does a god look like?”

“They look like the statues in the temple.”

“Mom, have you ever seen a god?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes gods disguise themselves as people, and you wouldn’t even know if you met one.”

“What if someone went deep into the Snowy Plains?”

“They’d be eaten by the demon...”

The woman, panting for breath, patiently answered, not forgetting to warn him, “You must never go in there…”

But she didn’t notice the child beside her, his big, dark eyes staring straight ahead.

In the direction he was looking, a lone Daoist was walking with his bamboo staff, heading into the swirling wind and snow. His footprints stretched from the temple entrance all the way toward the Snowy Plains behind the temple.

The child pointed a small finger in that direction.

“Is that a god?”

Only then did the woman follow his gaze. The wind and snow were so intense that it was almost impossible to see clearly.

The woman paused, stunned for a moment.

“Is that a god?” the child asked again, eyes wide with curiosity.

“I don’t know…”

“Is it a demon then?”

“I don’t know! Stop asking! Keep quiet!”

“Oh…” The child couldn’t help but keep staring in that direction.

The figure walked further and further away, gradually obscured by the storm. Perhaps the adults could no longer see clearly, but children often have brighter eyes. He could still make out the figure, reluctant to even blink.

He didn’t know if it was a god. He didn’t know if it was a demon. But it was something he would likely remember for many years to come.

The mother tugged at his hand, and the child silently quickened his pace, following her into the small temple ahead.

This was the tradition of Hansu’s deity worship. Not even the plague could stop it.

How old was this tradition? Well, not very old. The great demon had occupied He Plains for only a little over ten years.

But don’t underestimate those ten years. Even for someone now in their prime, ten years is already most of their remembered life. And for the younger ones, this was how it had always been.

When it had always been this way since childhood, it felt no different from something that had existed for all of time.

Perhaps one day the demons of He Plains would be vanquished, yet people would still follow this tradition, coming here to worship the gods. Every year on the first day of the New Year and the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, the line of Snow Temples might still be shrouded in clouds of incense smoke.

With a bit of luck, this practice could continue, passed down through the generations, perhaps lasting for hundreds or even thousands of years.

Who knew what the people of the future would think of it then?

***

A swallow darted swiftly through the clouds, sometimes diving into the mist, battling the rain, and at other times swooping down from the clouds, soaring freely and resiliently through the wind and snow-filled sky. Below, the earth was a vast expanse of white, flat and boundless.

At this time of year, there shouldn’t be any swallows. It was as if this world had a pair of eyes, watching the swallow. And the swallow, in turn, was gazing back at this world with its own eyes. With a flap of its wings, it darted into the clouds.

It made a sharp turn, then shot down like an arrow. Cold wind and icy snow rushed past its body until it reached the edge of the Snowy Plains.

There, a Daoist sat cross-legged on the snowy ground, his entire body covered with fallen snow.

“Whoosh!”

The swallow flew straight into the Daoist’s chest and vanished without a trace.

The cold wind howled incessantly, its wailing never ceasing. The snowflakes were even larger than goose feathers.

The Daoist opened his eyes and stood up. Leaning on his bamboo staff, he said nothing and set off northward, heading straight toward the heart of the Snowy Plains.

After walking ten li, the snow reached his knees. After twenty li, the snow rose to his thighs. After thirty li, his steps left no trace in the snow.

The world gradually became a vast white expanse, the boundary between sky and earth indistinguishable. It was hard to tell whether he was walking on snow or treading upon clouds.

He continued walking, observing as he went.

It was said that the demon of this place was the spirit of the marshlands spanning a hundred li. Corrupted by blood, corpses, resentment, and vengeful spirits, it had become a demon. Later, it transformed He Plains into a Snowy Plains. One might have expected this place to be utterly lifeless, yet despite the year-round snowfall and the perpetual winter, there were still living creatures in this snowy expanse.

For instance, the small footprints on the ground, or the occasional bird passing through the sky.

Suddenly, the Daoist halted, looking ahead.

Ahead, the snow swirled in the air. The once orderly row of poplar trees had long since died, leaving only bare, withered branches, pointing the way of the old official road. In front of this line of dead trees, a few white cranes were resting.

Some stood on one leg, stretching their elegant forms. Others preened their feathers, turning their heads back. A few lifted their heads high, flapping their wings as if about to take flight. No matter what they were doing, it looked like a dance.

In the snowy expanse, the entire world was a canvas of white. The playful, dancing cranes were mostly covered in white feathers as well. Yet, the row of dead tree trunks stood out darkly, like strokes of ink against the snow.

The legs and necks of the cranes were also black, and when they spread their wings, the tips of their feathers were dark as well. The only splashes of ink-like black in this world of white seemed to blend seamlessly into the scene, spontaneous and vivid.

In that moment, it was as if a freehand ink painting had come to life, transforming into a realistic landscape.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” a familiar voice came from behind.

Soft and delicate, with a hint of childish sweetness.

Song You turned to look—

Perhaps the sound of the wind and snow was too loud, for he hadn’t noticed it before. At some point, a small set of delicate footprints had appeared behind him, like tiny holes poked into the snow.

At the end of the footprints was a calico cat, stretching her neck to gaze at the flock of white cranes by the poplars.

Song You looked at her calmly.

“Meow? What's wrong?”

The cat tilted her head, meeting his gaze.

“...”

Song You stared at her silently for a long while before looking away. He continued walking forward, speaking calmly, “I came here with the intent to subdue you, yet I came openly and with honor. For you to treat me this way—are you showing contempt for me, or are you simply arrogant and disrespectful?”

“Whoosh...”

As if realizing it hadn’t fooled him, the calico cat dissolved into snow with a gust of cold wind. The trail of tiny footprints also vanished.

The Daoist continued walking.

As he passed the row of poplars and the flock of white cranes, one of the cranes lifted a leg and spread its wings. It then turned its head toward him and spoke in a human voice, the sound ethereal, almost echoing, “By human customs, shouldn’t you first state your name?”

“Hahaha...”

The other white cranes were startled, immediately dashing forward, spreading their wings as they ran, taking flight in a line. One by one, they flew off into the distance, gradually vanishing into the vast, snowy expanse.

“My name is Song You, from Lingquan County in Yizhou.”

“From Hidden Dragon Temple?”

“Yes.”

Song You answered without stopping, continuing forward. His steps never faltered, nor did his direction change, even as he walked past the crane.

The crane, however, remained in place. It turned its head to follow his movement, staring intently at him as it spoke, “What is your relationship with the Daoist Duoxing?”

“…” Only then did Song You pause and turn to look at it.

“You’ve met my master?”

“So she’s your master?”

“Yes.”

“Then it must be fate!”

The white crane spread its wings, each spanning several chi. It took a few graceful steps forward before lifting off into the air, flying toward the same direction as the previous cranes.

Its flight was truly beautiful.

Song You withdrew his gaze and continued on his way. He walked about ten more li.

“…” Song You halted once again.

Before him, a chasm had appeared in the Snowy Plains.

It was as if the ground had split open, forming a crack in the white expanse. The fissure stretched from the farthest point of his vision on the left to the farthest point on the right, with no end in sight on either side. Looking down, the chasm was a vertical drop into darkness, its depths unfathomable. Gazing across, the opposite side was at least a hundred zhang away, blocking his path forward.

“…” Song You chuckled softly and stepped forward.

As he reached the edge, a careless step dislodged chunks of snow and ice, sending them tumbling down into the abyss without a sound returning.

Yet the Daoist’s steps did not falter. He looked straight ahead, his expression unchanged. He stepped out into the air as if walking on solid ground.

A hundred zhang across—it would take the time of half a cup of tea to traverse.

The wind and snow raged at times, gusts rose beneath his feet, and occasionally chunks of ice fell from the far side, with echoes only reaching the depths long after, reverberating like a shock to the soul.

Through it all, the Daoist’s pace remained steady, unchanged. He crossed the chasm and turned back to look.

Where was the bottomless chasm now? It was nothing more than the usual Snowy Plains.

But one should not assume it was merely a simple illusion. If it were an illusion, it was an exceptionally clever one. For those able to see through the illusion, recognizing it as false and maintaining unwavering resolve, it would indeed be nothing but a mirage. Yet, if one's heart wavered even slightly or harbored the tiniest doubt, they would fall straight down into the depths below.

Song You withdrew his gaze and continued forward.

A moose emerged from the storm, its body strong and sturdy. The antlers on its head resembled withered branches, and snow clung to both its antlers and shoulders. It gradually approached until it was walking alongside Song You.

“What kind of magic do you practice?” The moose turned its head to ask him, its voice deep and ethereal.

“You will find out soon enough.”

“Bang!”

Suddenly, there was a clamor of hooves. The moose, startled, abruptly turned and bolted to the side, its hooves kicking up a flurry of snow. In no time, it had run far away, becoming a tiny black speck on the snowy plain.

Song You glanced at it briefly, then continued deeper into the Snowy Plains.

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