Unintended Immortality-Chapter 451: The Trivialities of Yangdu

Housing prices in Yangdu were exorbitant—far more expensive than in Le Commandery. Song You had initially planned to stay at an inn, but in the end, he could only afford a chema inn.

The room on the first floor was old and worn. Besides a canopy bed with darkened wooden frames, there was only a square table and four stools, which were placed upside-down on top of the table. The only small window was set high on the wall, allowing a slanted beam of sunlight to filter in, casting a bright patch on the floor where dust motes danced in the light.

Song You entered with his travel bag, glanced around, and set down his bedding. Then, he pulled the stools down from the table.

His bedding contained everything he needed. Even in a ruined temple deep in the mountains, as long as it provided shelter from the wind and rain, he and his companion could manage just fine. Naturally, this simple, rundown room did not bother him in the slightest.

The cat cared even less. In fact, she had never even formed the concept of “good” or “bad” rooms. As she entered, she simply walked along the walls, sniffing around to familiarize herself with the room's scent. Once reassured, she quickly trotted over to the sunlit patch on the floor, rose up on her hind legs, and reached out her paws, playfully swiping at the floating dust particles in the golden light.

Before she knew it, she had stepped fully into the sunbeam.

The sunlight illuminated her fur, making it shimmer as if glowing.

“...”

Song You sat by the table. He had intended to take out teacups, bowls, and an oil lamp from his bedding, but his hands paused as he watched her. The simple, pure joy in her actions, the sheer beauty of the moment, made something in his heart soften. Even in this entirely unfamiliar city, in this unfamiliar place, a sense of peace settled over him.

After a while, he chuckled, shaking his head before returning to his task.

A teacup, a small bowl, an oil lamp, chopsticks, a spoon. One by one, he placed them on the table.

The cat, hearing the movement, turned her head toward him. A flicker of hesitation passed through her eyes—she seemed to consider coming over to help but was also completely absorbed in her game. So she remained frozen in place, still standing upright, paws raised mid-swipe, staring unblinkingly at him in a daze. For a moment, the cat looked a bit silly.

Time made the decision for her—

Her dilemma lasted only a moment before the Daoist had already finished setting everything up. At this point, there was nothing left for her to help with. So, with an utterly guilt-free air, the calico cat turned her gaze back to the floating dust in the sunlight and resumed her game, pawing at the drifting specks.

“Pfft...”

The last thing Song You placed on the table was a book. The title on the cover read: Extraordinary Tales of Heaven’s Valley.

Heaven’s Valley referred to the sea. It was one of the many poetic names for the ocean.

This book, which he had just purchased upon entering the city, primarily recorded strange and extraordinary tales from the sea—mostly about demons, spirits, and supernatural beings, as well as other inexplicable phenomena that, while not directly related to the supernatural, were beyond human understanding.

Books like this catered to people's curiosity while being light and entertaining, making them perfect for whiling away time at home. As a result, they were always in high demand.

Having just returned from the sea and traveled along the coast, Song You was naturally drawn to these unusual stories. He was curious about what he might have missed along his journey.

Besides, such storybooks were enjoyable for readers of all ages.

“Rustle...”

Song You slowly flipped through the pages, reading with great attention.

The book contained tales of Little Kingdom, Beast Kingdom, Yaksha Kingdom, and Mustache Kingdom. However, the descriptions were vague and somewhat exaggerated, clearly embellished with human imagination and later modifications.

It was evident that the author had never personally visited these mysterious places—nor had they heard about them from firsthand sources. The stories had passed through countless mouths before reaching the author’s ears. By the time they were written down, they had already been circulating along the coast for many years, their details distorted and reshaped.

Who knew what these stories would evolve into after another few centuries?

The book also detailed numerous sea deities: which god to worship to avoid capsizing, which god to pray to for calm waters, and which name to call upon if one fell into the sea. It even specified the best times for worship and the proper offerings to appease each deity. Whether these instructions were based on truth or mere superstition was anyone's guess.

There were also descriptions of peculiar customs and amusing traditions from distant shores.

Song You became utterly absorbed in the text.

Unnoticed, the cat transformed into a little girl and crept up behind him, silently staring at the pages over his shoulder.

“See this, Lady Calico?” Song You deliberately slowed his reading, tracing his fingers across the text as he turned the pages. Without looking back, he said, “This is how people typically write books these days.”

“But,” he continued, “these stories are mostly short and scattered—a collection of various little tales strung together. It’s quite different from the kind of book you plan to write.”

“Hmm...”

“If you were to record everything you’ve seen and experienced from the moment you set sail from Lan’an—your fishing, the whales leaping from the waves, the coastal landscapes, the Yaksha Kingdom, the Beast Kingdom, the Little Kingdom, and all the chaotic, bizarre island nations that followed—woven together into a single narrative, then you would be documenting a journey no one else has ever traveled. That means, without a doubt, you’d be writing a book the world has never seen before.”

“Mm...”

“What do you think of what I just said?” Song You asked, still not turning his head.

“I think you're absolutely right!” The little girl answered earnestly.

“Then, how much of your grand work has been written? How far have you gotten?” Song You asked as he continued reading.

“I’m not telling!”

“Won't you satisfy my curiosity just a little?” ƒгeewёbnovel.com

“Next page!”

“Sigh...”

She really was growing up. Song You reached out and turned the page again.

“Rustle...”

The next story was one of the rare long ones in the book—it recounted the tale of Ye Xinrong’s great-grandfather, who had been stranded on Yaksha Island.

It detailed how the Ye family ancestor had set sail, the misfortune that led to his shipwreck, how he ended up on Yaksha Island, and his interactions with the female Yaksha of the island.

It described how they developed feelings for each other, how he taught the Yakshas to make fire and roast meat, how he eventually found an opportunity to escape, and how his descendants later joined the military, rising to the rank of general—only to fall from grace due to court suspicion, leading to their eventual decline.

Both Song You and the little girl read with rapt attention.

The version recorded in the book was far more detailed than the one Ye Xinrong had told in person. As Ye Xinrong himself had said, the stories that circulated among the people were often better than his own retelling.

His personal account had the advantage of being true, but it relied heavily on luck rather than personal intelligence or bravery. Naturally, it also lacked the dramatic twists and thrilling moments that made a story gripping. In contrast, the versions passed down and written into books were undeniably more appealing—exactly the kind of tales people preferred to hear and read.

Comparing the two versions had its own kind of charm. But outside, the light filtering through the window was growing dimmer.

The ink on the pages blended into the darkening room, making it harder to read. At the same time, Song You's stomach let out a low rumble.

“Gurrrrgle...”

“Rumble...”

The first few sounds came from his stomach. The last few came from the little copycat beside him.

Song You turned his head slightly to the left. The girl turned her head slightly to the right. Their gazes met.

“Let's eat.” Song You closed the book and stood up.

“Let's eat...” The girl spun around, and with a puff of black smoke, she transformed back into a cat, tilting her head up at him. “There are so many mice here!”

“Let’s try the local food first.”

“Alright...”

The man pushed open the door and stepped out with the cat.

This chema inn provided lodging, a place for horses, and temporary storage for goods—but for food, there was only steamed buns and rice soup. Fortunately, just across the bridge was a proper eatery.

The Daoist walked ahead, the cat followed behind. Their paces matched perfectly as they moved through the stone-paved streets, crossing the arch bridge and descending on the other side.

When the Daoist paused to admire the scenery, the cat also stopped, turning her head to look.

Passersby who saw them couldn't help but find it an amusing sight.

“Sir! What would you like to eat?”

“What do you have?”

“Oh, we’ve got plenty! Our humble shop may not have the extravagant delicacies of the grand restaurants in the city, but that's only because we lack those expensive ingredients. When it comes to culinary skills, though, we’re not inferior at all!” The young waiter slung a rag over his shoulder and grinned, boasting confidently.

“I'm new to Yangdu and unfamiliar with the specialties of your establishment, so I'll leave it to you. Just bring me two of your signature side dishes.” Song You smiled slightly. “But I must warn you, I'm just a poor Daoist traveler, so please don't trick me with anything too pricey.”

“Rest assured! Our shop runs on honesty, fair to both the young and the old, let alone a Daoist like yourself!” The waiter grinned widely before lowering his gaze toward the cat beside him. “Is this your cat, sir?”

“She's my traveling companion.”

“In that case, since you have a cat with you, how about a pan-fried river fish? I guarantee it’ll be delicious.” The waiter paused for a moment. “And for the second dish, let’s go with our house specialty—tea-braised shrimp. How does that sound?”

“Alright, then.”

“Got it!”

With that, the waiter turned and headed off to relay the order to the kitchen.

From where he sat, Song You could hear the waiter’s loud voice calling out the orders.

The cat sat neatly by his feet. Because of the winter chill, she curled her tail around to the front, using it as a cushion for her paws. Yet, her gaze was fixed on the wall beside them.

On that wall hung numerous wooden plaques, each inscribed with the names of dishes along with their prices.

For a small roadside eatery, they had quite a professional setup—almost on par with the grand restaurants, except their wooden plaques weren’t ornately carved, and the dish names weren’t deliberately made to sound overly elegant or obscure.

The calico cat examined them one by one, carefully searching. Finally, she found two dishes: one called “Jade Blossom Pan-Fried Fish” and another called “Fragrant Tea Shrimp.”

When she saw the prices listed below, she froze, her entire body momentarily stunned.

This past summer, fish and shrimp like these were completely free, and there was more than anyone could eat.

The calico cat’s expression grew serious.

She then abruptly turned her head in the opposite direction and stared at the Daoist. However, he never once looked at her. Left with no choice, she turned back again, fixing a solemn gaze on the wooden menu plaques.

It was as if she were trying to force the prices down with her stare.

“Jade Blossom Pan-Fried Fish!” the waiter announced the dish in a loud voice as he brought over a plate.

The so-called Jade Blossom Pan-Fried Fish was made using tiny fish, each no wider than two fingers—most barely one—and no longer than half a palm. It was hard to tell what kind of fish they were. They were coated in a batter mixed with chopped scallions and placed in the pan to fry.

Judging by the way they were arranged, they must have been placed in a circular pattern right from the start. Once flipped, they retained that round shape.

Both the batter and the fish were fried to a golden crisp, exuding a strong, appetizing aroma of scallions.

Song You took out a small bowl from his pouch—a delicate blue-and-white porcelain piece. He picked up one of the small fish and placed it on the bench as an offering to the calico cat before finally taking a piece for himself. He ate with small bites, savoring the taste.

The flavor remained quite mild, and the fishy taste of the river fish hadn’t been entirely removed. This method of preparation, unlike deep-frying, didn’t make the fish fully crispy—only the outer layer had crisped up, while the innermost flesh remained soft.

Perhaps using sea fish would have been more suitable.

Fortunately, the rich aroma of scallions compensated for much of the taste. Pan-fried together with the batter, it released a fragrance reminiscent of scallion pancakes, making up for its shortcomings.

Song You picked up another small fish for the calico and then took a piece of the crispy batter for himself. Just then, the waiter brought him a bowl of white rice. Mixed within the rice were tiny golden crumbs and small diced bits of green and red. He also brought over a small dish of pickled vegetables as a side.

These two items actually looked much more appetizing.

Smiling, he thanked the waiter and took the opportunity to inquire about the Jile God.