Immortal Takeout - Chapter 16

When Ta Nuo left, the horizon was painted red. The evening glow stretched wide, kneading itself into thin wisps of cloud, lighting up most of the sky.

Tomorrow will surely be a sunny day, he thought, and without realizing it, his legs carried him toward Liu Village.

The courtyard gate wasn’t closed. The little boss was perched on the big pear tree inside, legs swinging as he squinted his eyes and exhaled clouds of smoke. He clearly hadn’t had dinner yet. The moment he saw Ta Nuo, his gaze landed on the backpack he was carrying.

Ta Nuo had gone out early today and forgotten to bring any snacks. Feeling a little embarrassed, he tiptoed and carefully offered the last magnolia flower from his bag to the little boss.

A magnolia flower couldn’t fill your stomach, nor could it satisfy a craving. Luo Xiang didn’t seem interested, but Ta Nuo’s dark, bright eyes looked like two plump black beans. Luo Xiang frowned, bent forward, and hooked his finger. The flower floated up from Ta Nuo’s palm, drifting slowly upward until it landed in Luo Xiang’s hand. The pure white petals gave off a faint fragrance. It wouldn’t be long before they shriveled, dried, and finally turned into a handful of spring earth. Luo Xiang pinched the stem and brought it close to his nose, sniffing it absentmindedly.

This was a very small village, its edges slowly being swallowed by the city, growing thinner and more indistinct. The few remaining residents had no desire to change anything. They had lived the same way, day after day, for ten years — in a small circle, leading plain, simple lives, enjoying the peace and ease of this little corner. Maybe one day, the iron fist of progress would crush everything here, and they would be consumed by modernization, becoming nothing more than a speck of dust among countless others. But for now, they were content.

The early spring night still fell quickly. As darkness descended, everything grew quiet. From afar came faint voices and laughter, sometimes the barking of dogs. Cooking smoke mixed with heavy clouds, and from them slowly rose a thin crescent of golden moonlight.

The darkness swallowed Luo Xiang’s expression. He didn’t move, his whole figure seeming to melt into the shadows, leaving only the cigarette tip glowing faintly in the dark.

It was such an ordinary night, yet it calmed Ta Nuo’s heart. He didn’t really want to go home just yet. Home was warm and comfortable, but there was no one to talk to. Maybe he should go to his parents’ place for dinner, but they were both busy. Second Brother was busy too — busy patrolling his territory, busy catching fish in the river.

Maybe it was because he was the only “wild” sea otter on this continent, but Ta Nuo had liked being around others ever since he was small — it made him feel safe. He was always full of questions, endless questions, curious about everything around him. When his oldest brother was still home, he was usually the one who answered them. His oldest brother was amazing — he knew everything, and he could always explain things in a way even a little sea otter could understand.

But otters have to grow up. Ta Nuo couldn’t stay with his parents and siblings forever. They would all grow up, leave, and build lives of their own.

And Ta Nuo would too.

Second Brother had always been passionate about finding a mate. Ta Nuo once asked his oldest brother why. His brother said that, unless something unexpected happened, a mate was the one who would walk through life with you. When your family was no longer by your side, you could share everything with your mate — the winter snow, the spring fish, the summer dew, the warm autumn lake water — happiness, sadness, fear, anticipation, the beautiful and the not-so-beautiful, everything, everything.

Ta Nuo felt a longing grow in his heart.

Maybe one day, he thought, I’ll find my mate too. Then I won’t have nights like this where I don’t want to go home.

Luo Xiang’s cigarette went out. Everything fell into darkness.

The moon climbed higher, breaking through the clouds and casting a gentle light. The clear moonlight washed over the earth, lighting up the spring night — and Luo Xiang. His handsome face, bathed in moonlight, looked smooth and flawless, like a sculpture carved from white jade. He lifted his head toward the sky, silent.

Ta Nuo whispered, “Can I come up and sit with you for a while?”

Luo Xiang looked down. “Climb up yourself.” He seemed to be smiling, but his tone was cold.

Ta Nuo flailed for a long time, scraping off a patch of tree bark with the sole of his shoe. Poor old pear tree. Lowering his head in embarrassment, he said, “I don’t know how to climb trees.”

“Idiot,” Luo Xiang said mercilessly.

At some point, the white umbrella appeared, and its curved handle hooked Ta Nuo’s hood. Before he could even scream, his neck was yanked tight, and with a strong jerk, he was thrown up into the tree. The thick branch was hard, and his chest slammed into it, making him ache all over. Tears sprang to Ta Nuo’s eyes, but he clung to the trunk, not daring to let go.

His legs were still dangling in the air. Ta Nuo kicked and struggled, using all his strength, his face flushing red, until he finally managed to haul himself onto the branch. He lay sprawled out, panting hard, like a toad that had eaten too many mosquitoes.

His ridiculous state clearly amused Luo Xiang. He burst out laughing, a teasing look on his face.

It took Ta Nuo a long time to calm the heart that had jumped into his throat. Slowly, he steadied himself against the trunk and sat up. He didn’t dare move his legs at all — they were stiff and sore. Ta Nuo sneaked a glance downward. It was pitch-black, the ground invisible. Instantly, his head went dizzy and his whole body turned weak.

For a sea otter, this height was truly too much.

“I feel like throwing up,” Ta Nuo said softly.

His stupid look clearly pleased Luo Xiang. He laughed out loud, a teasing expression on his face.

It took Ta Nuo quite a while before he finally swallowed the heart that had jumped up into his throat. He slowly sat up, holding onto the tree trunk, not daring to move his legs at all — they were stiff and sore. Ta Nuo quietly glanced down. It was pitch black below, the bottom invisible. His eyes instantly went dizzy, and his whole body felt weak.

For a sea otter, this height was truly too much.

“I feel like throwing up,” Ta Nuo said softly.

Luo Xiang clicked his tongue, grabbed Ta Nuo’s hood, and dragged him over, placing him beside himself. This was the sturdiest branch on the whole tree. Luo Xiang’s movements were rough, but unexpectedly, Ta Nuo no longer felt afraid. He was very close to Luo Xiang — only half an arm’s length away. Luo Xiang’s body was burning hot, that heat wrapping around Ta Nuo. It felt like his feet had landed on solid ground again, and the entire otter relaxed.

Once the initial dizziness passed, Ta Nuo’s curiosity returned and he started looking around. “The view here is great,” he commented. “We’re also really close to the moon. From this angle, the moon looks delicious.” He smacked his lips — he was getting a bit hungry.

Luo Xiang said nothing, just reached out and lit another cigarette. The pleasant scent of herbs and wood spread out instantly.

Ta Nuo didn’t see a lighter — he had no idea where Luo Xiang’s fire came from. He stared at Luo Xiang’s fingers curiously, studying them for a long time but couldn’t figure it out. He really wanted to grab the little boss’s hand and examine it carefully, but he didn’t dare.

Luo Xiang stretched out a hand and flicked Ta Nuo’s forehead with his middle finger. Ta Nuo yelped at the pain, clutching his forehead and rubbing it.

“Stay away from me. It’s too hot,” Luo Xiang said.

Ta Nuo moved symbolically to the side but still sat right where he was.

Luo Xiang took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

“Let’s talk,” Ta Nuo suggested.

No one responded.

So he continued on his own, “Do people all die?” What a stupid question, Ta Nuo thought to himself.

Sure enough, Luo Xiang shrugged, cigarette in his mouth, refusing to answer.

Ta Nuo started telling Luo Xiang about what happened during the day. “I don’t know why, but when I think about Granny Miao leaving soon, I feel sad,” he said. He stared at Luo Xiang, eyes fixed, stubbornly wanting a response.

Luo Xiang expertly flicked away some ash with his fingertips and said impatiently, “Yes, people all die. It’s just a matter of time. You feel sad because you’re only seeing one person. Look at the bigger picture — there are countless humans in this world, countless living beings. Death is the most natural state of all. Flowers wither before they bear fruit. Only when there’s an end can there be new beginnings. She lived her life so earnestly, now she’s going to the next cycle. You should feel happy for her.”

Ta Nuo nodded.

Luo Xiang continued, “This is all basic theory from the Becoming-Spirit Philosophy class. Was your brain chewed by a dog when you were studying? How did someone this dumb even become a spirit? How did you cultivate into a human?”

Ta Nuo touched his nose awkwardly. “I wasn’t very good at studying. I was pretty lucky — I was born already cultivating into a human.” For a little demon like him, who wasn’t very good with studies, to still become human like the top students — he felt quite ashamed.

Luo Xiang stopped flicking his ash and suddenly looked at Ta Nuo.

Ta Nuo looked back, his eyes wide and round.

Luo Xiang slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, then suddenly reached out and pinched Ta Nuo’s cheek. Tears instantly streamed from the pain. Luo Xiang released him, looking thoughtful. Ta Nuo gently rubbed his own face and wiped his eyes, the corners red.

“Didn’t expect…” Luo Xiang said softly, like speaking to himself. Then he smiled and said to Ta Nuo, “Since you know you’re dumb, you should be more careful. Don’t run around, and definitely don’t cause trouble.”

“I never run around,” Ta Nuo muttered in defense. He hadn’t even been to the edge of Maochun City.

“Good. Because there are plenty of sea otters like you — fat and stupid — that people want to catch and make soup out of,” Luo Xiang said, half threatening, half joking. “Skin peeled, thrown into the soup pot, bones sprinkled with cumin and roasted over fire, and the fur made into a little vest.”

Ta Nuo’s hair stood on end as he covered his face with both hands.

“And don’t sneak closer again. Move away. It’s too hot,” Luo Xiang scolded, frowning.

Ta Nuo pretended not to hear. The early spring night was far too cold. I won’t leave home easily, Ta Nuo thought. Here I have my family and friends, and my divine takeout. But…

“When I become stronger and more capable, I still want to go out and see the world.”

Luo Xiang glanced at him.

“I want to go east,” Ta Nuo said, a longing expression on his face. “I heard that if you follow the Hongjiu River eastward, you’ll reach the sea. The sea is wide and vast — you can’t see the end of it. The waves are fierce and wild, strong enough to smash rocks. Every morning, the sun rises from the depths of the sea like a golden egg. Then the waves turn gentle, singing their swishing songs.”

Out there, living in the sea, were sea otters like him — not just one, but many, many of them. He had never seen the sea, nor had he ever seen other sea otters.

It must be fun, Ta Nuo thought.

“When I come back, I’ll bring back loads and loads of delicious food — sea urchins, crabs, giant lobsters — for everyone who wants to order something,” Ta Nuo said happily, daydreaming. “What do you want to eat? I’ll bring it for you!” He looked toward the little boss.

Luo Xiang mercilessly shattered his fantasy. “You’d better figure out how to keep your divine takeout running first.” So dumb — forget the sea, he’d probably be gnawed down to the bone before even leaving Maochun City.

“Right…” Ta Nuo drooped his head, swinging his legs.

But his attention quickly shifted again. He thought of another question. “What is a Child of Winter?”

“You’ve seen a Child of Winter?” Luo Xiang raised an eyebrow.

Ta Nuo nodded.

“Child of Winter…” Luo Xiang paused, seeming like he was about to say something, but suddenly cut himself off. “Who says I have to tell you.” He shot Ta Nuo a sideways glance.

“If you don’t want to say it, then don’t,” Ta Nuo said. “Then what’s cat wine?”

“Why do you have so many questions?” Luo Xiang took a fierce drag of his cigarette and suddenly flicked the cigarette butt at Ta Nuo.

The burning ember flew quickly toward Ta Nuo. He hurriedly covered his head with his hands. But the pain never came.

Right before his forehead, the cigarette butt suddenly burst apart, turning into a cluster of glowing particles. They floated gently, like glowing snowflakes, falling into Ta Nuo’s hair and onto his cheeks, and then slowly disappearing.

“What is that?” Ta Nuo asked in a tiny voice, not daring to move.

“The seeds of mi gu.”

Ta Nuo only half understood. He’d always done poorly in botany.

Luo Xiang was watching him. “If you can complete three orders by your own strength,” he said, “I’ll agree to seriously consider the cooperation plan you proposed.”

R-Really?

Ta Nuo was still in that ridiculous posture, hands over his head, mouth hanging open.

“Now go down. Don’t come bother me,” Luo Xiang said, grabbing Ta Nuo and tossing him to the ground.

Ta Nuo landed with a thud, but it didn’t hurt at all. He got up, patted his butt, and bowed to the little boss. “I’ll work hard!” he shouted. “Good night!”

His heart was full of joy, like it had been filled with human-world iced cola.

That night, the road home was long. Moonlight poured over Ta Nuo’s tail, drying away his unease and gloom. No matter what, he thought, this world must be worth living in. Granny Miao must think so too.

The winding forest path of the Baiye forest twisted and turned. Ta Nuo didn’t get lost. Following the song, he made his way back to his warm little otter den.