Chapter Thirteen: The Grand Alliance of Five Nations - The Old Woman of Solitary Mountain

To enter the Kingdom of Baixi, one must pass through Lone Mountain.

At the foot of Lone Mountain stands a small wooden cabin, home to an old woman with hair streaked in gray. Bent by the years, she offers a cup of tea to every traveler who passes by.

For fifty scorching summers and fifty frosty winters, she has done so without fail, as if the years were but a single day. Strangers, moved by her persistence, would ask if she had a husband or children. The old woman would only shake her head with a gentle smile, saying nothing.

When pressed further—“Why give water to those you do not know?”—she would raise her eyes to the distant horizon. Weathered by the passage of time, her gaze held a trace of sorrow and wisdom as she replied in a voice hoarse and serene, “Water falls from the sky. The heavens do not collapse, nor does the water ever run dry. What hardship is there in giving a cup to another?”

Murmuring quietly to herself, she would add: “All things in this world should face the sun.”

Fifty years ago, a man abandoned his path of asceticism and returned to the mortal world. By the time he reached Lone Mountain, death was already upon him. If not for the kindness of the young woman in the wooden cabin, he would surely have crossed the Bridge of Forgetfulness and drunk the waters of oblivion.

Less than a month later, the girl in the bloom of youth married the man she had saved. But his fate was precarious; within two short years of marriage, he died without reason.

Grief-stricken, the young woman wished to follow him in death, but by chance she discovered a letter he had left behind. It contained only eight words: “What joy is life, what sorrow is death.”

Only then did she realize that his heart had always belonged to the Way, and his departure was but an awakening to the nature of life and death.

She was a beautiful woman, yet beauty itself is so often the root of countless misfortunes.

Later, in utter despair, she destroyed her own beauty and kept vigil by his grave and the humble cabin. Thus she spent the greater part of her life, from black hair to silver.

She never questioned whether it was worth it.

Fu Chen, Wanqu Shu, and Zhao Xu journeyed south, and after half a month arrived at Lone Mountain. Spotting a wisp of smoke from a small cottage ahead, they reined in their horses and dismounted to proceed on foot.

Fu Chen and Wanqu Shu were well-traveled, having long wandered the world and witnessed its splendors and sorrows. Seeing the warm, lived-in cottage, their hearts stirred with emotion, and weariness made them long for rest.

The old woman, clad in coarse linen, was in the garden, turning and drying the tea leaves she had gathered from the mountain the day before.

Wanqu Shu approached and asked, “Grandmother, might we trouble you for three bowls of tea to quench our thirst?”

Though it was not yet noon, the sun already blazed. She glanced at them and replied, “Come in.”

After Zhao Xu tied the horses to a large tree outside, the three of them entered the garden together. Beneath the shade of the trees stood a wooden table and several stools for travelers to sit and rest. Once seated, they felt a refreshing coolness.

Soon, the old woman brewed three bowls of plain tea. As the green liquid rippled in the rough porcelain bowls, casting a jade-like glow, Fu Chen and Wanqu Shu shared a gentle smile.

Just as they were about to drink, Zhao Xu set his bowl down with a look of distaste and slammed it onto the ground, exclaiming in frustration, “I can’t swallow this at all.”

Fu Chen frowned. “Brother Zhao, how can you behave like this? The old woman kindly offered us tea, and yet you are so rude. How must she feel?”

Wanqu Shu quickly added, “Indeed, Brother Zhao. If you don’t wish to drink, you could simply leave it. Why smash the bowl?”

Chastened by their words, Zhao Xu’s face flushed red. “I was just irritable and lost my temper for a moment…”

The old woman cast him a cold glance, saying nothing.

“I… I’ll go ahead and find an inn, and return for you two gentlemen later,” Zhao Xu muttered before making his exit.

Fu Chen and Wanqu Shu felt deeply ashamed. After all their weary travels, they had hoped for a rare moment of respite, only to have it marred by Zhao Xu’s outburst. Their displeasure was palpable.

They offered the old woman earnest apologies, and only then did she consent to speak with them.

“You two seem so refined; why do you travel with such a coarse man?”

“That is a long story, Grandmother. Allow me to explain,” Wanqu Shu replied, and proceeded to recount in detail how they had come to know Zhao Xu.

When she had heard it all, the old woman said, “You two are kind-hearted, but I sense that he is not. Take care you have not saved a truly wicked man.”

“We have been with him for some time now. Though his words and actions are sometimes lacking, he has treated us with respect,” Fu Chen replied, though suspicion lingered in his heart. He feared they might indeed have saved the wrong person.

The old woman sighed and cautioned, “Hearts are not as honest as they once were. Ingratitude is all too common. Just look at our late crown prince. Beware that you do not raise a tiger to your own harm.”

The two nodded, took their leave of the old woman, and departed.

Fifty-eight years ago, the old woman wore coarse garments and ate plain food for the sake of her departed husband. Fifty-eight years later, she prayed daily that Gu Qiuci might find rebirth, to live a peaceful ordinary life among the common folk.