Before the old Taoist's arrival, my family had prepared me for the difficult journey ahead.
They explained that I would be leaving with him, becoming his student.
At first, I was terrified. Leave home? I didn't want to go.
It felt as if my family was selling me off to some strange old man.
Yes, my village was small and, to be honest, most of the villagers regarded me as something of a freak.
They kept their distance, wouldn't let their children play with me. But it was my home.
I didn't want to leave my grandfather, who loved me unconditionally.
I didn't want to leave my parents, who tried their best despite their fear.
And Chubby…how could I bear to leave him behind?
Chubby had finally been released from the hospital, but he was still hobbling around like a baby duck.
Determined to say goodbye, I found him slowly shuffling along.
"I'm leaving," I told him. "Going far away. I probably won't be back for a long time."
He looked genuinely disappointed.
"But if you leave," he whined, "I'll be the worst student in the whole class! I won't even have anyone to compete with for last place."
My heart sank. He was…impossible.
Here I was, pouring out my heart, saying goodbye, and all he could think about was his class ranking?
Suddenly, leaving him behind didn't seem quite so unbearable. Fine.
Let him languish in last place.
Let his father tan his hide until it was the color of a ripe watermelon.
The old Taoist arrived as promised.
I hadn't gotten a good look at him during his last visit—I was delirious at the time.
But standing before him now, despite his stern demeanor, I felt a strange sense of peace.
It was as if some invisible thread connected my destiny with this old man—a thread I had no choice but to follow.
Li Xuantong was still clad in his tattered robe, barely a step above a beggar.
My father, witnessing this display of shabbiness, was convinced I was doomed to a life of hardship and deprivation.
Clearly, this old man was a fraud!
Oh, how my father must have regretted ever letting the other masters walk away, especially Yang, who had offered his own daughter's hand in marriage!
Seemingly oblivious to my father's inner turmoil, the old Taoist barely acknowledged our presence before announcing his intent to leave – with me in tow.
Desperate to salvage some semblance of hospitality—and perhaps stall the inevitable—my father grasped my hand.
"Master, why the rush? Stay for a meal. It's the least we can do seeing as how you're going to be my son's teacher. We might not have much, but you're welcome to share a simple meal with us."
"There's no time. We must leave," the old Taoist stated curtly.
My father persisted.
"Master, If you don't mind, there's something I've been wanting to ask..."
"Speak freely," the old Taoist replied, his tone softening slightly.
"Why my son? Why him? He's…well, other than being born under unusual circumstances, there's nothing special about him. He doesn't apply himself. He's always at the bottom of his class. Honestly, if it weren't for fear of those fox spirits taking revenge, I would've…"
My father trailed off, but by then, I had stopped breathing.
He had refrained from hitting me all these years because…because he was afraid of the fox spirits?
All this time I thought he had shown me mercy, spared me from his wrath. What a fool I had been.
The old Taoist, however, broke into a smile.
"The boy is far more perceptive than you realize. He is blessed with natural talent, strong bones, a unique destiny. He may not excel in his studies now, but he is far from stupid. His mind simply wanders, distracted by things you and your rigid curriculum cannot comprehend."
He turned his gaze to me, his eyes twinkling.
"Do not worry, young one. Your father may be afraid to discipline you, but I am not bound by such fears."
To think that the old man would so casually discuss my impending training – and punishment – right in front of me. It was hardly comforting.
My grandfather, sensing my distress, gently removed my hand from my father's iron grip.
"Take care of him, Master. He's in your hands now."
His voice cracked, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"He will be gone for ten years. In that time, I will be an old man. Who knows if I will live to see him again?"
"You worry needlessly." The old Taoist's voice was firm, reassuring. "I foresee a long and prosperous life for you. You will see him again, I promise."
As if released from a spell, Grandfather let go. Without looking back, the old Taoist ushered me towards the door.
Suddenly, a heartbroken wail pierced the air.
My mother, who had been conspicuously absent from the farewell party—no doubt afraid that if she saw me, she would never let me go – came rushing out.
She swept me up in her arms, burying her face in my hair.
"Xiao Jie, my precious boy. Be good. Listen to your master. Promise me you'll be careful."
I nodded, tears streaming down my face.
Despite everything, my mother loved me.
She always had.
And unlike everyone else, her love wasn't rooted in fear or superstition.
It was unconditional and pure.
She was a smart woman, my mother.
She understood that without the old Taoist, I would likely be dead.
As painful as it was to accept, she knew that my apprenticeship was a small price to pay for my life.
For a while, she held me tight, refusing to let go.
Finally, the old Taoist intervened.
"Enough! This is not a funeral. He'll be back before you know it, stronger and wiser. Now, let us be on our way."
Reluctantly, she released me.
Waiting by the door was Granny Liu, her own eyes red-rimmed. Years of caring for me, loving me as her own…
I knew this farewell wouldn't be easy for her either.
She offered a respectful bow to the old Taoist.
"Master, I entrust him to your care. He may test your patience, but his heart is good."
The old Taoist nodded.
"Your kindness towards my disciple does not go unnoticed. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude."
He produced an ancient-looking book, its pages filled with characters I couldn't decipher.
Granny Liu's eyes widened.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the book.
"Master, this…this is too much!"
"Nonsense," the old Taoist scoffed, "What is a mere book compared to a life?"
Overcome with emotion, Granny Liu took the book with both hands.