Chapter Two: The Mysterious Old Man

He had discovered the old man in the grass when he arrived on horseback and was preparing to set up his tent. At that time, the old man was lying rigidly on the ground, eyes tightly shut, his face utterly devoid of color. From a distance, it was impossible even to discern the rise and fall of his chest or abdomen to suggest any breath. He had initially thought the man was a recent casualty of the steppe, dead for reasons unknown. Though cautious and careful by nature, he was by no means callous or unkind; thus, he hurried to the old man’s side to check if he was still alive. If the man lived, he would help him; if not, he would at least dig a grave and give him a burial. After all, this place was far from any area frequented by herders—he had chosen solitude, deliberately distancing himself from settled folk.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. He managed to speak before the old man opened his mouth again: “Sir, you must be hungry. I’ll get you some dry rations.” The old man’s impending complaint was stifled; he hesitated, and just as he was about to speak again, Li Xingyu added, “I mean, have some rations first to settle your stomach. I’ll prepare some roasted meat for you right away.” Again, the old man was interrupted, looking slightly awkward as he tried to think of what else to say. Li Xingyu, barely suppressing a grin, continued, “Once the meat is done, I have a few bottles of fine wine here. I’ll join you for meat and drink.” At this, the old man could say nothing more, and could only wave his hands in an ambiguous gesture, accompanied by a dry laugh whose meaning was unclear even to himself.

After handing the old man some rations, Li Xingyu swiftly gathered his tools and fresh meat and stepped outside the tent. This time, he could not contain his amusement, for in just a few hours since rescuing the old man, he had experienced firsthand how difficult the old man could be. Yet he was pleased with himself for having quickly found a way to handle him, proud of his own wit in rendering this exceptionally talkative elder speechless. What he did not know was that, as he busied himself outside, the old man was lying on the bed inside, a look of satisfaction and comfort on his face—a smile that seemed to express both contentment at Li Xingyu’s respectful treatment and gratification at his cleverness, perhaps even hinting at deeper meanings beneath the surface.

“Reporting to Command Center: Starry Sky One is fully prepared, all systems normal, standing by for launch.” The loudspeakers in the command hall of the Xi’an Aerospace Launch Center echoed with Li Xingyu’s voice as a crowd of people worked busily at their various consoles.

“Status check of all systems,” came the order from the chief commander. In the hall, crisp, concise reports sounded in the prearranged sequence: “Fueling complete, all systems normal.” “Communications normal.” “Navigation normal.” “Power normal.” One report after another, each confirming normal status. The chief commander took a deep breath and announced, “Starry Sky One, stand by. All systems stand by. Commence sixty-minute countdown to launch.” As soon as he finished, a sixty-minute countdown appeared on the main screen at the front of the hall. A string of acknowledgments followed: “Starry Sky One, copy.” “Fuel supply, copy.” And so forth.

After the swift exchange of reports, the hall fell silent, save for the sound of timers and the subtle hums and beeps of equipment, which only underscored the stillness in the room. Everyone waited quietly and expectantly for the thrilling moment to come. Li Xingyu, too, sat silently in the pilot’s seat of the spacecraft, which had been shifted from vertical to horizontal to reduce the immense g-forces on the astronaut during liftoff. Lying flat, he gazed at the countdown display above, quietly waiting; with the countdown underway, there was nothing more for the astronaut to do—everything from here would be handled by the command center and the onboard computers.

Calming himself, he habitually tried to run a hand through his hair, but clad in his rigid spacesuit and strapped tightly to the seat, the gesture was impossible. He sighed inwardly. He loved space exploration and voyaging, yet he particularly disliked the feeling of being confined before launch—perhaps a reflection of his deep-seated yearning for freedom. After his silent sigh, he began to distract himself by recalling other matters, and his thoughts quite naturally turned to the enigmatic and troublesome old man he had met on the steppe before this mission. The old man’s silent departure and the items he had left behind only deepened his air of mystery.

Thinking of this, he unconsciously wanted to reach for his chest, for in the inner pocket there lay the things the old man had given him—another gesture rendered impossible by the restraints of the suit. The presence of these items in his pocket heightened his excitement for the coming journey, mingling it with a sense of uncertainty and anticipation. He remembered that upon waking that morning, he had found it odd not to hear the old man’s habitual complaints. Turning his head, he saw the old man was gone—not in bed, not in the tent. This was unprecedented in the days they had shared together. His first thought was to search outside, on the chance that the old man had risen in the night and suffered a mishap, but the search yielded nothing. Returning to the tent, he sat on the bed and noticed a corner of cloth sticking out from beneath the pillow. Pulling it out, he found a small leather pouch, suffused with an ancient aura.

Inside the pouch, he found a black ring of indeterminate material, its craftsmanship simple and unrefined, yet exuding a natural charm; a piece of animal hide, old and weathered, covered in dense script he could not decipher; and a plain sheet of paper, scrawled with two passages in his own native tongue—the one he knew best. Two of the items were undeniably ancient, yet one was an utterly modern sheet of A4 paper, a juxtaposition as strange as it was jarring.

He did not dwell on the oddity, but instead began to read the note on the A4 paper, which was clearly a message from the old man. The first passage stated simply that the old man had left. The ring and the hide were important, and might prove extremely helpful to Li Xingyu. He was urged to keep them close at all times, never to display them lightly to others. That was all; the message was brief and cryptic, revealing neither the writer’s identity nor any explanation.

He skimmed the second passage. At first, he could make no sense of it and even wondered if the old man might have been somewhat unhinged—perhaps best to ignore these things altogether. But upon reading it again, he found the content strangely familiar. With closer scrutiny, he realized it was a set of incantations, very similar to the breathing techniques he had practiced since childhood for physical training. The difference in wording had initially thrown him off. Further study revealed that these formulas were more profound than his own, as if they were a more advanced method of regulating breath—not tied to specific exercises, but rather akin to the legendary arts of cultivating inner energy.

This realization left him somewhat bewildered. Could these be the fabled methods for cultivating inner strength, or even magical power? He laughed at the thought, for all his years of study and travel had taught him better—such things were mere legends.

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