Paying Respects

The grave of Master Fang Yi is situated nearly a hundred meters from the Taoist temple, on one of the steepest inclines of Fang Mountain, where the elevation is already considerably high. 

Upon reaching a gentle slope on that hillside, one can behold the distant Qingliang Mountain, resembling a crouching tiger, while to the east, Zhongshan appears like a slumbering dragon. Coupled with the flowing waters at the foot of Fang Mountain, any adept geomancer would instantly recognize this as a prime site of auspicious feng shui.

This favorable location was not discovered by Fang Yi; rather, it had been meticulously chosen by the old Taoist long before, who even dug his own grave, truly embodying the old adage about digging one's own pit for burial. Fang Yi merely carried his master, who had ascended to immortality, into the grave.

"Master, I am about to descend the mountain…"

Standing before the slightly raised mound adorned with wild chrysanthemums, Fang Yi's expression grew solemn. After spending over a decade with the old Taoist, he had come to regard him as his closest kin. Despite the Taoist teachings of inner peace, standing before his master's eternal rest filled Fang Yi with profound sorrow.

"Old Taoist, I have come to pay my respects as well…" Seeing Fang Yi's sorrowful demeanor, the portly fellow ambled over, sitting cross-legged on the ground. He began, "I say, old Taoist, how about we discuss something?"

"Portly fellow, what do you wish to discuss with Master?" Fang Yi's attention was drawn to him. The master had never engaged in discussions with the portly fellow while alive, and even now, years after his passing, it seemed futile.

"Hehe, Fang Yi, I find this place quite auspicious, and I wish to consult the old Taoist about whether, after my father's time comes, he could be buried beside your master."

Though the portly fellow spoke with a smile, his expression was earnest. As the saying goes, one may not have personally seen a pig run, but they have surely heard of it. Growing up alongside the old Taoist, the portly fellow had gleaned some knowledge of feng shui, enabling him to recognize the exceptional quality of this location.

"I believe you should first discuss this with Uncle Wei…"

Upon hearing the portly fellow's words, Fang Yi chuckled and replied, "Uncle Wei is only in his forties; you're already considering a burial site for him. Why not go home and bring it up with him? Let's see what he has to say."

Fang Yi knew that the portly fellow's father was the village secretary, a modest official but a staunch old party member, who held a deep disdain for superstitions. Were it not for the old Taoist's remarkable medical skills, often providing free treatment to the villagers, the portly fellow would likely have faced a harsh reprimand from his father.

"What's the point in discussing it with him?"

As expected, upon hearing Fang Yi mention his father, the portly fellow's countenance darkened, and he muttered in annoyance. He understood all too well that if he dared to broach the subject of feng shui with his father, the latter would promptly retrieve the thickest rolling pin from their home to administer a proper thrashing.

"Alright, portly fellow, let me pay my respects to my master, and then we shall descend the mountain…"

The portly fellow's antics had somewhat alleviated Fang Yi's sorrow. He then retrieved a gourd, its hue reminiscent of purple gold, from beneath his Taoist robe. After removing the stopper, he poured out the last of the wine at his master's grave.

"Master, this is the final bit of monkey wine. In the future, when I have the means, I shall procure some Maotai for you to enjoy…" As Fang Yi murmured these words while pouring, he noticed the portly fellow grimacing beside him, for to him, wasting such fine wine on the old Taoist seemed a tragic folly.

"Master, please bless your disciple with prosperity and fortune…"

Fang Yi paid no mind to the portly fellow. After living on the mountain for over a decade, the thought of descending now filled him with both excitement and trepidation. Thus, he knelt before his master's grave, praying earnestly for his master's spirit to guide him on his journey down the mountain.

"Alright, Fang Yi, let's go…" After waiting a while, the portly fellow grew impatient and tugged at Fang Yi, saying, "San Pao is waiting for us at home; if you dawdle any longer, we might miss dinner…"

"Very well, Master, I shall take my leave…" Fang Yi nodded, kneeling to bow three times with sincerity before rising. He shouldered the small wooden box, casting a lingering glance at his master's resting place. He understood that this departure would usher in a life entirely different from the one he had known.

The emotions of youth are fleeting; after bidding farewell to his master, Fang Yi's spirits quickly lifted. The early spring scenery of Fang Mountain was breathtaking, the refreshing beauty easily dispelling any lingering sadness.

"Hey, Fang Yi, hurry up and move along…" Noticing Fang Yi suddenly crouching beneath a tree, the portly fellow covered his forehead with his hand in exasperation. They had been walking for two or three hours without even reaching the foot of the mountain, all due to Fang Yi's frequent distractions.

"Portly fellow, these are the finest mushrooms! We should gather plenty to take home…" Fang Yi turned with a smile, his hands deftly collecting a dozen vibrant mushrooms from the roots of the tree.

"Such bright colors; they might be poisonous…" The portly fellow peered over, muttering. Though he had grown up in the mountains, he had been taught from a young age that the more vividly colored mushrooms tended to be more toxic, leading him to avoid such specimens in the past.

"Not to worry; these mushrooms only appear in early spring, and they are truly delicious…" Fang Yi laughed at his friend's concern. Compared to the portly fellow, he was indeed a child of the mountains, intimately familiar with every plant and creature. He knew well which mushrooms were safe to consume.

"Fine, but I won't have another chance to gather them later…" The portly fellow shook his head in resignation, allowing Fang Yi to continue foraging. By the time they reached the foot of the mountain, the bamboo basket on Fang Yi's back was filled with assorted mushrooms.

"Huazi, where did you find these? Who is that beside you?" Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, they encountered more people. Some were busy in the fields, gazing curiously at the handsome young man in a Taoist robe.

"Uncle Niu, this is my friend, a disciple of the old immortal from the mountain…" The portly fellow greeted the villagers cheerfully. As soon as the old immortal was mentioned, the faces of those present relaxed, for the old Taoist had visited the village almost weekly during his lifetime, treating many ailments with his skills.

"The disciple of the old immortal has come? Huazi, I have a wild boar's hind leg at home; come, let's go back so the little immortal can have a taste…" The villagers were straightforward; upon learning that Fang Yi was the old Taoist's disciple, Uncle Niu, who had been working in the rice field, climbed up to pull Fang Yi along to his home.

"Uncle Niu, there's no need; we promised to go to San Pao's house first; he's been waiting with dinner prepared…" The portly fellow knew that Uncle Niu's youngest son had once suffered a fright and had a high fever for three days, only to be cured by the old Taoist when he came down from the mountain. Each time the old Taoist descended, Uncle Niu would offer the best of his household.

"Very well, but you must come to my house for lunch tomorrow…" Uncle Niu released his grip but continued to look at Fang Yi, saying, "The old immortal was a good man, though he departed too soon. Little immortal, you must take me to burn some incense at his grave when you have the chance…"

"Uncle Niu, I will remember…" Fang Yi nodded in response. He was aware that his master frequently treated patients around Fang Mountain, yet he was surprised by the depth of the old Taoist's connections. Even after several years since his passing, the local villagers still remembered his kindness.

"Let's head to my place first…" Observing Fang Yi's attire, the portly fellow frowned and said, "You should change into something more suitable; otherwise, in the city, you'll attract too much attention…"

Although Taoism has deep roots in the country, to city dwellers, their image is often shaped by portrayals in television and publications. If Fang Yi were to enter the city dressed as he was, he would undoubtedly draw curious stares.

"But… but I am a Taoist; what else would I wear if not my robe?" 

Taken aback by the portly fellow's words, Fang Yi hesitated. He had worn this attire for as long as he could remember, even binding his legs in this manner for over a decade. The thought of removing his Taoist robe left him feeling somewhat adrift.

"Who says you are a Taoist?" 

The portly fellow replied impatiently, "Just because you grew up with the old Taoist doesn't mean you are a little Taoist! Fang Yi, now that you have descended the mountain, it's time to adapt to the world. Even a Taoist can return to secular life. Enough talk; let's hurry home and change your clothes…"

As they neared the village, they encountered more familiar faces, and the portly fellow grew increasingly impatient with his explanations. Moreover, Fang Yi was his closest friend, and he did not wish for the villagers to regard him with curious eyes.

"Dad, I'm back…" The portly fellow's home was at the village entrance. Upon entering the fenced yard, he kicked the barking dog and spotted his father, Wei Dahu, emerging from the house, causing him to instinctively withdraw.

"Where have you been running wild this time?" Before the portly fellow could finish, his father's gaze fell upon Fang Yi, pausing momentarily before hesitantly saying, "Huazi, is this the young Fang Yi from the mountain?"

"Uncle Wei, it's me…" Fang Yi stepped forward, removing the basket from his back. "Uncle Wei, I just came down from the mountain and didn't bring much; I picked some mushrooms for you, all fresh…"

Though he had grown up in the mountains, Fang Yi understood the principle that courtesy is never unwelcome. He had intended to bring these mushrooms to San Pao, but since he had arrived at the portly fellow's house first, he naturally offered them as a gift.

"You child, you come bearing gifts when you could have just arrived…" Wei Dahu approached Fang Yi, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He nodded and said, "Hmm, you've grown even better looking than Huazi and are quite polite. It's a pity you've been held back by that master of yours…"

Indeed, Fang Yi had a connection with the Wei family; he had been nursed by the portly fellow's mother as a child due to a lack of milk. Consequently, he had always been familiar with Wei Dahu's family. When Fang Yi was around six or seven years old, Wei Dahu had climbed the mountain to seek the old Taoist's permission to send Fang Yi to school.

However, the old Taoist had refused to let Fang Yi descend, providing a rather infuriating excuse that Fang Yi would face calamity if he did. This nearly led Wei Dahu to incite a riot against the old Taoist's temple.