Immortal Travel of Longevity

Chen Changsheng watched Miss Tao’er’s wedding, feeling a small matter set aside in his mind.

As night fell again, Yun Xiang didn’t stay but found an inn at Autumn Moon Market, planning to return the next morning.

The drunk Yu Hongjin got hauled away by the ear by Yun Xiang. Strangely, this “Red Fish” listened to no one, only Sister Yun.

She had to listen to more scolding all evening.

The wedding chamber grew quiet, everything still.

A creak of the door sounded.

The slightly drunk Tong Zhihuan swayed to the bed.

He shook his head, worried. “Madam, have you been waiting long? Do you blame me?”

Under the red wedding veil, Tao’er giggled. “Tong Zhihuan.”

Tong paused, confused. “Here?” Tao’er glimpsed her silly husband through the veil.

He seemed even sillier drunk.

Tong came to himself. “No, no, Miss Tao’er should call me ‘husband.’ You must say it again.”

Tao’er flushed. “You haven’t lifted the veil yet, and you want me to call you husband?”

“Oh! Yes! Right! My bad. I’ll, I’ll do it…”

Tong stumbled over his own clothes. Yao’er caught him before he fell.

“Watch your step. How many times must you trip?”

He scratched his head. “I’ve got my wife to help me.”

“Yes, yes, you have me.”

He sat on the bed, lips pressed together. Silence fell between them, the air grew sweet.

Tao’er twisted her hands in her lap, head bowed, feeling shy too.

Though not young, such moments left them both speechless with bashfulness.

Tong opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Nonsense spilled out.

“Madam… shall we rest?”

Tao’er blinked. “The veil first.”

“Right! Yes!”

“…”

Tong took the veil’s edge. He drew a breath and lifted it.

A face unlike any other glowed before him.

He forgot himself. Her face shone like a peach blossom, red lips bloomed.

She gazed at him. “Husband?”

Tong reddened. “Wi…Wife…”

In the flickering candlelight, two shapes drifted closer. Lips met. Night deepened.

Chen Changsheng went back to Flowing Cloud Temple.

West Bridge Wine Tavern hadn’t closed yet. Manager Fei counted coins while the little waiter cleaned the tables.

“Customer,” the lad called, “we’re almost closed. Please come back tomorrow?”

Manager Fei glanced up – and froze.

“Mr. Chen?”

Chen Changsheng looked at Mr. Fei. “Not quite closed? May I sit and drink?”

Manager Fei beamed. “Of course! Quick! Wine for the gentleman!”

The young waiter set down his rag and hurried to fetch wine.

Manager Fei sat with Mr. Chen.

“You haven’t visited in years, sir.”

“I’m surprised Fei Manager remembers me,” Chen answered.

“You’ve not changed a bit,” Fei said. “Not one whit, in all these decades.”

“Have I not?”

Meeting him again stirred questions in Fei’s mind. Old ones, barely whispered.

“A puzzle I could never solve… When Manager Zhang passed me this tavern, he swore to save one jar for a gentleman. You never spoke of it, yet I believe he meant you?”

“Why do you think so, Fei Manager?”

“Ah… A feeling.”

Chen nodded. “Yes, Mr. Zhang set wine aside for me. We shared many cups.”

“It was you!” Manager Fei sighed, relieved. Then asked softly, “Years later… he returned and spoke of Mr. Chen again. Full of respect but never said why.”

The waiter brought wine. Manager Fei waved him off.

He poured for Chen, pushed the cup closer.

“You have questions?” Chen spoke aloud. “Ask them.”

Fei hesitated – then asked in one breath: “Tell me, sir. Does true Immortality exist?”

Chen paused. The wine in the cup stilled.

Silence filled the tavern.

“I mean no offense,” Fei rushed on. “Life holds too many secrets. Not asking… dying without knowing… that must be the worst pain?”

Chen fingered the cup. “Long ago, when this place was just a small tavern, another spoke words like yours.”

“Manager Zhang?”

“No. He who spoke of it is long gone now.”

Manager Fei sighed and said no more.

Chen took a slow sip. “You ask of Immortality… Yet if I say you there is none?”

Fei pressed gravely: “Then how are you here, Mr. Chen? Still exactly as you were decades past?”

Chen answered softly: “I hold no True Immortality. I only sleep longer than other men. Much longer.”

Manager Fei leaned in. “So… There is none?”

“Do you seek it?”

“Seek it? Don’t seek it?” Fei sighed, tangled. “Young, I feared my years too short. Old now? Seen too many seasons pass.”

He looked down. “Yet… faced with the chance… I’d grasp it. See what wider skies lay beyond?”

Chen studied him. “And if they brought only deeper despair?”

Fei Manager straightened. “Suffering? Pain? Far worse I think is sitting idle. Doing nothing. That would truly break me.”

Chen spoke quietly: “Yet I possess no such way.”

Fei smiled peacefully. “It matters not. I can wait. Perhaps later years will bring it?”

Mr. Chen paused. Then set down the cup. “If you will wait, then wait by all means.”

He finished the last drop. Time to leave.

He would not return for many, many years.