章節 1: The Youth and the Portly Fellow
Jinling, situated in the eastern region of China, lies at the lower reaches of the Yangtze River, close to the sea.
Since ancient times, Jinling has been renowned for the saying, "Wealth flows from the southeast, and Jinling is its confluence." With a civilization spanning over 6,000 years, a city history of nearly 2,600 years, and a capital history of almost 500 years, it stands as one of the four great ancient capitals of China, often referred to as the "Ancient Capital of Six Dynasties" and the "Metropolis of Ten Dynasties," serving as a significant cradle of Chinese civilization.
Jinling is surrounded by mountains, embracing a landscape dotted with notable peaks such as Purple Gold Mountain, Niushou Mountain, Mufu Mountain, Qixia Mountain, Tangshan, Qinglong Mountain, Huanglong Mountain, Zutang Mountain, Yuntai Mountain, Laosh mountain, Lingyan Mountain, and Maoshan. Additionally, there are also Fuguishan, Jiuhua Mountain, Beijige Mountain, Qingliang Mountain, Shizishan, and Jilong Mountain scattered throughout the city, creating a topography rich in mountains, waters, and hills.
Among these renowned mountains, there exists a rather inconspicuous hill, merely a few square kilometers in size, known as Fangshan. Fangshan is a low, flat-topped mountain, resembling a square seal from a distance, historically referred to as Yingshan. Despite its modest height, its position on the plain grants it an imposing stature.
Deep within the dense woods of Fangshan lies an unremarkable Taoist temple. Were it not for the plaque at the entrance, bearing the words "Shangqing Palace" marked by axe and fire scars, one might mistake it for a mere mortal's offering of incense to the celestial beings.
Though the saying goes, "A mountain need not be high; it is renowned if a deity resides there," the temple atop Fangshan, despite its name, lacks any divine presence. It has suffered destruction during the decade-long turmoil, having been burned once and subsequently collapsing due to years of neglect, leaving it in a state of increasing disrepair.
"Alas, why has it gone silent?"
A young man, dressed in a Taoist robe and around eighteen or nineteen years of age, sat on the steps in front of the temple, tapping a radio resting on his left palm with his right hand. Yet, apart from the static hiss, no other sound emerged from the device.
"Great One, I only replaced the batteries yesterday; must I take it to town for repairs again?"
The young Taoist muttered irritably, lifting his hand as if to throw the radio away. However, after a moment's hesitation, he decided against it, for this device had been his companion for a decade, helping him through many solitary moments.
"Such a nuisance, even you conspire against me?"
Listening to the incessant chirping of cicadas from the large tree overhead, the young man furrowed his brow. Suddenly, he sprang into action, leaping onto the thick trunk, and with a powerful push, he bounded up the tree, using a branch to propel himself higher. His right arm extended like that of a long-armed ape, deftly catching a cicada that had not managed to escape.
"Ha! Let's see if you can still chirp now!" Upon landing, the young man opened his hand to reveal the cicada, a smile breaking across his face, banishing the earlier displeasure caused by the broken radio.
"Very well, I shall let you go..."
After a brief conversation with the cicada, he released it into the air, sunlight filtering through the dense leaves and illuminating his remarkably handsome face, framed by sword-like brows and starry eyes.
"While others have a Shangqing Palace, and you too bear the same name, this palace is nothing but a mockery; I can't even afford a meal..."
Turning his head, the youth noticed the plaque of the temple, a bitter smile creeping onto his face. The last grain of rice had been used to make porridge two days prior, and now, after three days, he faced an empty larder. Today, he was entirely out of food.
Compared to the grand Shangqing Palaces on other famous mountains, the one atop Fangshan was undeniably a façade, a mere three or five dilapidated rooms daring to claim such a name. With no incense offerings for over a decade, he would have starved long ago were it not for the meager exchange of herbs and scorpions for food with the farmers below.
"Great One, I have only three days left until my master's deadline to leave the mountain. Am I truly to starve to death?"
The youth's eyes darted around, fixating on the distant smoke rising from the valley below, and he swallowed hard. Yet, adhering to his master's rules, he hesitated for a while before reluctantly returning to sit on the stone steps in front of the temple.
"That foolish rabbit, why hasn't it appeared again?"
A vivid image flashed in his mind. Two years prior, perhaps due to the harvest below, a plump rabbit had stumbled onto the mountain, colliding with the temple and providing him with a delightful feast.
However, in the three years since, he had awaited such fortune to no avail, glancing beneath the great tree daily, only to be met with disappointment—no foolish rabbit had ever graced him again.
"Yi Ge, are you there? I've come..."
Just as the young Taoist's stomach growled, prepared to venture up the mountain for scorpions, a voice called from the small path below. With that call, a figure emerged onto the irregular stone steps.
This figure was somewhat portly, his broad frame making the narrow path seem even more constricted. Yet, his girth did not imply clumsiness; he ascended the steps with surprising agility, reaching the top after a brief but vigorous climb, slightly out of breath.
"Hey, Fatty, why are you only arriving now? Where have you been for the past year? I've missed you dearly..." Upon seeing the newcomer, the young Taoist's face lit up with joy, his words betraying no hint of monastic restraint.
"Don't even start; you look like you're on the verge of starvation, hoping I'd bring you something to eat..."
As the portly fellow approached, it became evident he was not much older—perhaps around twenty. His squinting eyes sparkled with intelligence, giving off a shrewd impression. However, that sharpness melted away into a simple, honest demeanor as he smiled.
"Here, a rabbit caught by my father..." The portly fellow raised his left hand, saying, "Don't say I lack camaraderie; I just returned home yesterday and brought you this rabbit first thing this morning. By the way, what are you doing?"
Just as he lifted his hand, the rabbit was swiftly snatched away by the young Taoist, who dashed into the temple without waiting for the rest of his sentence. In the blink of an eye, the portly fellow was left alone.
"What a ravenous child he has become!"
Shaking his head with a look of sympathy, the portly fellow understood that the young Taoist, bound by his master's rules, had a limited range of movement, relying on the villagers below for his necessities. Running out of food was a frequent occurrence.
"Hey, I say, your movements are a bit too swift, don't you think?"
Upon entering the temple's rear courtyard, the portly fellow discovered that the rabbit he had brought was already skinned and gutted, skewered on a large branch, while a small pit on the ground had flames flickering to life.
"I've been starving for three days..."
Gazing at the rabbit sizzling over the flames, the young Taoist could not help but lick his lips, lamenting, "Fatty, you wretch, you've been away for over a year! I've been waiting for you to bring me food every day..."
"Don't be ridiculous; you wouldn't have starved without me..."
The portly fellow scoffed at the young man's words, shaking his head. "I've been a soldier; I can't be a farmer for life. I went out to work this time. By the way, since I'm older than you, call me Fat Brother, got it?"
"Pfft, who said I'm younger? You were born three days after me..." The young man replied earnestly, "Just an hour younger, I'm still your elder. If you don't believe me, ask your plump father..."
Though both were nearly nineteen, they were quite particular about their age. Annoyed by the young Taoist's insistence, the portly fellow retorted, "Don't start; you don't even know when you were born..."
"Alas, I... I didn't mean to. Yi Ge, is it alright if I call you brother?"
After uttering those words, the portly fellow realized he had misspoken and quickly raised his hand, glancing cautiously at the young Taoist. They had grown up together, sharing the same childhood, and knew each other's vulnerabilities well.
"You said it; I didn't force you..." The young man's expression momentarily stiffened upon hearing the portly fellow's remark. Although he quickly smiled again, the portly fellow, having shared countless moments with him, noticed the slight awkwardness in his demeanor.
In truth, the young Taoist was entirely unaware of his own birth date.
He had been taken in by his master while still an infant, and although his master had lived a long life and was well-versed in the arts of divination, he had never raised a child and was oblivious to the young man's exact age.
Since the child was found outside the temple, nestled in the embrace of Fangshan, the old Taoist named him Fang, hoping he would grow to be upright, and gave him the name Yi, wishing for him to transcend the mundane and stand out.
At that time, Fang Yi was merely two or three months old, and his master brought him down the mountain to be nursed by the portly fellow's mother, who had also recently given birth. However, due to the poverty of the countryside, Fang Yi was returned to the mountain after only three months of nursing, where he was raised on rice porridge.
Yet, with such a connection, Fang Yi and the portly fellow had shared a bond akin to brothers, naturally fostering a deep friendship. Whenever the portly fellow's father ventured into the mountains to gather herbs, he would leave the portly fellow at the temple, and the two boys truly grew up together, inseparable.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票