Am I Really an Immortal?
In the courtyards of the immortals, a gatekeeper is usually required. In the mortal realm, in those remote and bitterly cold borderlands, common folk resemble loyal hounds, steadfastly adhering to their creeds, never relenting until death.
Am I Really an Immortal?
Once there was a dream, untouched by the dust of the mundane world, yet day after day, its end remained forever out of sight.
The swordsman at the mountain gate bowed his head; the Taoist seeking immortality returned to his temple.
As innocent as a child untouched by the ways of the world.
Before his eyes, technology had replaced “ignorance”; the chaos of the world could no longer be refined back to simplicity. Through the cycles of spring and autumn, the dream, at last, is fated to break.
……
On the overpass, the crowd ebbed and flowed. Beneath it, an old man sat—a blind fortune-teller, eyes closed, calling himself a descendant of the hemp-robed seers, reading bones and faces for passersby.
“Young man, I see your bones are extraordinary, and at such a young age, you already have the countenance of a noble. Remarkable, remarkable! Would you like me to read your fortune? Look at the banner—descendant of the hemp-robed, honest with all, young or old!”
The young man couldn’t help but laugh, turning out his pockets to show the old man. The emptiness there rivaled the few coins left in the fortune-teller’s begging bowl: utterly bare.
The old man smiled, unconcerned. “Well, I’m in good spirits today. How about a free reading?”
“You don’t seem like a good person,” the youth replied, shaking his head and turning to leave.
The old man grew anxious, his voice rising, “Why would you say that? You haven’t a coin to your name—what could an old man like me possibly swindle from you?”
“Obviously, you’re jealous of my look
