Across the Clear Wind: A Mortal Who Doesn't Want to Become an Immortal

“Cultivate what?” Qingfeng picked up the book and blew the dust off it. He knew a few characters, enough to read “buying grain” and “hiring workers” on the village noticeboard, thanks to a peddler who had passed through years ago.

He opened to the first page. The ink had run badly: “Draw qi into the body, and you may glimpse immortality...”

“Immortality?” He scoffed and casually slipped the book back into the hollow of the tree. Uncle Li’s old yellow ox had just died of old age yesterday. They buried it on the slope behind the house, and when Qingfeng passed by this morning, the fresh earth was still damp. What’s the point of living that long? Look at Granny Zhang at the east end of the village. Her children and grandchildren are all gone, and she lives alone in an empty house, crying whenever the wind blows. Better to live like the yellow ox, with your feet on the ground.