Chapter 41: The Paper Donkey

They were heading northwest, intending to reach Luoyang first. Luoyang was arguably one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the world, a place where poetry and wine flowed as freely as the exotic, vibrant influence of foreign cultures. The people of the Tang Dynasty held the peony in high esteem, and it was in Luoyang that these flowers reached their most magnificent peak.

They traveled along the official postal road, a wide, flat thoroughfare beaten from loess earth. Jiang She had not intended to make much of a fuss about meals while on the road, yet he had not expected to be traveling in such a large, bustling company. Li Bai and Yuan Danqiu had packed a great many supplies, though Yuan Danqiu, realizing he lacked a horse, grumbled that he would have to purchase one at the next county seat.

By midday, the group paused in a nearby village, seeking shelter and a place to rest. They were a striking sight—tall, imposing figures with horses and a carriage in tow—which made the villagers somewhat wary. It took inquiries at several households before they were finally invited in.

Their host was a well-to-do man of the village named Zhao, in his thirties, with two sons and two daughters. He lived with his wife and an elderly mother. When the guests arrived, the children peered at them with wide-eyed curiosity. Visitors were rare in this village, and strangers even rarer—to say nothing of the fact that they traveled with a cat and horses. That made the situation all the more extraordinary.

Jiang She smiled as he gently brushed away the hand of a small child reaching out to touch the cat. "This cat loves its freedom," he said softly. "I fear it does not care much for being held, little lady. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

The little girl, dressed in a *ru* skirt with her hair styled in two buns adorned with red velvet flowers, was clearly a cherished daughter. She stared at the cat, unblinking, and whispered, "I won't touch it, but may I just watch it here?"

"Of course you may."

Master Zhao was a most hospitable man. He provided excellent food, including a bowl of mutton soup, allowing the travelers to set down their gear and rest their feet. Before the meal was fully served, Li Bai borrowed a desk from the Zhao family, took brush, ink, and paper from his trunk, and scribbled a brief note to Meng Haoran. He added a line mentioning that they would be away for a year, and that the peaches, plums, and pomegranates in the courtyard would be ripe by then—tasty treats that Master Meng should be sure to sample.

Li Bai laughed, recalling how they had heard the beating of drums and the clanging of gongs as they left, with many people offering sacrifices. The Spirit of Mount Lu had told him that the prefect and the magistrate intended to build a temple for Master Jiang. Those people had no idea that they were merely travelers wandering through the mountains. The divide between the immortal and the mortal was never more apparent than in such moments.

Li Bai wrote with incredible speed. Like his poetry, it required almost no thought; he penned it in a single breath, his companions waiting by their horses. Once finished, he blew on the ink to dry it, then tucked the letter safely away in his trunk.

Li Bai asked Master Zhao, "How far is the nearest post station?"

"About seventeen *li*," the man replied. "Just keep heading north, sir."

In these parts, official post stations were spaced thirty *li* apart, though this varied based on geography and local custom. However, since this area near Xiangyang was a major artery with frequent merchant traffic, the stations were strictly maintained.

Master Zhao observed his guests from afar. They possessed an extraordinary air of refinement in both dress and manner, clearly men of letters. Beside them sat a very old man whose every movement made one's heart tremble. It was no wonder the other villagers had been afraid to welcome them; these travelers clearly carried valuables, and with such an elderly man in their care, any mishap would be impossible to account for.

Master Zhao asked, "Where are you gentlemen headed?"

"To Luoyang," Jiang She replied.

Master Zhao stroked his beard. "Luoyang! A fine city. Are you going to visit family or friends?"

Jiang She merely smiled.

Seeming to take this as an answer, and noting their scholarly appearance, Master Zhao called over his two sons—the eldest thirteen, the youngest nine—and instructed them to recite the *Classic of History* and the *Classic of Filial Piety* for the guests.

The two boys had been outside, playing wildly with the horses. Dragged in by the servants, the eldest looked sullen, while the younger one, bristling with indignation like a hedgehog, seemed ready to burst into flames. Both were still distracted by the horses outside and could hardly focus. They began to recite, their expressions pitiful.

Jiang She could not help but laugh. He interrupted their recitation, saying, "You have raised your children well, Master Zhao."

Master Zhao’s face beamed with pride. He smoothed his sleeves and chuckled, feigning humility, "Not at all, not at all. They are just two little disasters who cause nothing but worry day in and day out."

After much conversation, the group grew more comfortable. Master Zhao hesitated, then offered a piece of earnest advice. "I know this is not my place to say, but why not stay here tonight? Set out tomorrow, and push through to the station after the next one without stopping in between. You see, sir, the local post station has been haunted for the past two years. There are stories!"

Master Zhao glanced at the group, his gaze lingering on the old man, and urged, "Especially with such an elderly gentleman among you, you surely cannot afford such trouble. It is best to rest here for the night and travel swiftly tomorrow!"

The old Spirit of Mount Lu, never having imagined he would one day be considered a burden, chuckled and stroked his beard.

Jiang She was intrigued. "What kind of ghost is it?"

Master Zhao, who would normally avoid such topics, shook his head. "How would I know?"

At that moment, the final dishes were brought out: steamed pork and chicken with scallions and vinegar. Master Zhao was sincere and warm-hearted, and the table was soon overflowing with fragrant dishes—a basket of sesame cakes, a large bowl of shepherd's purse noodle soup, leeks, cabbage, mutton soup, and the freshly arrived pork and chicken, all served with dipping sauces.

The cat had its own meal—a small portion of meat Jiang She had brought along. He had requested a separate small table for her, and the cat gobbled the food down, barely bothering to chew.

"Many thanks, Master Zhao," they said. "You are most kind."

The pork had been purchased from a neighbor and butchered, the chicken was raised in the yard, and the vegetables were picked from the garden. From harvest to table, less than an hour had passed; the food was fresh, delicious, and carried a unique, rustic aroma.

Seeing the young man addressed as "Master" set up a tiny table for the cat, the group laughed.

The Zhao family’s youngest son asked, "Do cats have to eat like people do?"

"They do," Jiang She replied. "Though the cat is small, she understands the human heart. It is only right to treat her well."

"And the pig we are eating? Does it feel pain?"

Jiang She thought for a moment. "That is why you must finish every last bite."

Master Zhao tapped his son’s hand with his chopsticks. "Why all these questions? Eat your meal!"

The boy hung his head, sullenly eating his noodle soup and ignoring the other dishes. Jiang She smiled and said, "When children are young, they understand nothing of the world. Yet, to see a living thing suffer and feel compassion—that is innate kindness. Your son possesses a good heart."

Master Zhao, pleased by the praise, beamed and ceased his scolding.

Before they departed after the meal, Jiang She spoke up. "Might I borrow some paper and a pair of scissors?"

When they were brought to him, Jiang She beckoned the Zhao children, who had been fascinated by the horses earlier. The four children gathered around, wondering what the guest was about to do. Jiang She used the scissors to roughly cut out the shape of a donkey. It was slightly asymmetrical and perhaps a bit lame, but that didn't matter. He took a medicine bottle from his sleeve and let a single drop fall.

A pale green liquid spread, creating a faint, shimmering hue on the paper that quickly vanished. The children tilted their heads in confusion. The eldest son, though unsure of what was happening, watched intently.

Jiang She blew on the paper donkey.

Suddenly, it stood up.

"You seemed to like the horses earlier," Jiang She said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Here is a toy for you."

The eldest son asked hesitantly, "Master Jiang, how does one play with this paper..."

The second son reached out to grab it. As soon as his hand brushed the donkey, it fluttered to the ground, transforming into a small, gray-brown donkey with a slight limp, a short mane, a thin tail, and long ears. It looked up at the four children, lifted its head to sniff the air, and let out a loud, "Hee-haw—hee-haw!"