The Son of an Old Friend

"I am Ma Mingcai, son of Ma Hongyuan, paying my respects to Mr. Gu!"

The young man's expression grew increasingly emotional as he introduced himself, nearly dropping to his knees in the process.

Ma Hongyuan?

Wasn't that the old tailor's name?

Gu Ning'an quickly reached out to steady the son of his old acquaintance, smiling gently. "No need to be so emotional. Sit down, and let's talk."

"Yes, yes!" Ma Mingcai nodded repeatedly before sitting down next to Gu Ning'an. He lowered his voice and said, "Mr. Gu, my father waited endlessly for your return but never saw you again. Who could have thought I'd meet you here today?"

Gu Ning'an paused, his brows furrowing. "Your father was waiting for me? What happened to him…?"

"He passed away from illness a few years ago…" Ma Mingcai completed the thought, his eyes filled with sorrow.

For a moment, Gu Ning'an was at a loss for words. After expressing his condolences, he fell into a contemplative silence. It was only then that he recalled why Tailor Ma might have been so eagerly anticipating his return.

Years ago, Gu Ning'an had little interest in clothing. As long as his attire was clean and comfortable, he was satisfied. At the time, he often wore a simple coarse tunic in plain colors.

One day, while passing by Tailor Ma's shop, the old man, standing idly by the door, suddenly rushed at him like a madman.

"Sir! With your physique and frame, it's a shame to wear such plain clothes!"

"I happen to have a piece of fine green silk. May I make a tailored robe for you?"

"Don't worry, I won't charge you a single coin. I just don't want to waste such fine fabric!"

Tailor Ma had been so enthusiastic that Gu Ning'an couldn't bring himself to refuse. He ended up acting as a model for the tailor's craft.

It took Ma a full 14 days to complete the green robe. By the end of it, the tailor's dark circles were so prominent they made him look like a panda. But when he saw Gu Ning'an donning the robe, his excitement was palpable. He kept muttering to himself, "Good material, good craftsmanship—it needs a good frame to carry it!"

Even though he had only acted as a model, Gu Ning'an couldn't bring himself to accept such fine attire without giving something in return. So, he gifted the tailor a calligraphy piece that simply read "Exquisite Craftsmanship"—just two words.

Though brief, the inscription carried a trace of Gu Ning'an's magical energy.

Do not underestimate that trace of energy—it could safeguard the household from harm and ward off evil.

Thus, it had never crossed Gu Ning'an's mind that Tailor Ma might have passed away. After all, "wind-cold sickness" was, in essence, a form of spiritual affliction, something the magical energy in his calligraphy should have protected against.

As for Ma Mingcai's mention of his father's "waiting," it turned out the old tailor had wanted to make Gu Ning'an a white robe but had struggled to finalize a design. His perfectionism regarding his craft had kept him in "seclusion" for a long time. When Gu Ning'an had tried to leave, Tailor Ma had practically forced him to stay a few extra days.

In the end, the old tailor still couldn't settle on an idea for the robe, so they agreed that by the time Gu Ning'an next visited Lexiang County, the robe would be ready for him.

Seeing Gu Ning'an deep in thought, Ma Mingcai dared not interrupt. His father had always told him how extraordinary this "Mr. Gu" was, though Ma Mingcai hadn't fully believed it at the time.

But today, seeing his late father's signature craftsmanship on a refined young gentleman, he couldn't help but acknowledge that his father's judgment had been correct.

No—his father had underestimated him!

For someone to maintain their youthful appearance for over 20 years… what noble official could possibly achieve such a feat?

This was no ordinary man—this was clearly the work of an immortal!

Wait! If I think about it this way, my father once made clothes for an immortal. Then his years of waiting were truly not in vain!

For an immortal, twenty-odd years might pass in the blink of an eye, so it's no wonder he forgot to return… But the key point is, even after all these years, the immortal is still wearing the clothes my father made!

The more Ma Mingcai thought about it, the more excited he became, his expression spiraling out of control.

Noticing this, Gu Ning'an cleared his throat and asked, "How long has it been since your father passed?"

"Huh?" The sudden question startled Ma Mingcai. He froze for a moment before responding, "Exactly three years and seven months."

Three years, not quite four… Perhaps old Ma's yin lifespan hadn't fully depleted yet. Gu Ning'an nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Where is the white robe? Let me take it and try it on."

Ma Mingcai's jaw dropped, wide enough to fit a goose egg. "You already know?"

Gu Ning'an nodded slightly. "I have a general idea… Let's not waste time. Once I have the robe, I'll go visit your father."

"Understood!" Ma Mingcai responded with vigor, then stood up to lead the way.

The two walked to the end of the evening market and turned into a small alley.

Unlike the bustling liveliness of the market, the alley was quiet, save for the occasional distant cries of hawkers from the market.

"This is it," Ma Mingcai said, stopping in front of a shop.

Even though he knew Mr. Gu had visited this shop before, Ma Mingcai made sure to adhere to the proper etiquette of a guide, especially when dealing with such an extraordinary individual.

Gu Ning'an gave a nod and glanced at the shop's sign.

To his surprise, the words he had once written—"Exquisite Craftsmanship"—on a piece of white paper had been turned into the shop's signboard and hung above the entrance.

However, the magical energy infused into the writing back then was now entirely gone.

As a result, the paper had yellowed, developed creases, and the ink had faded over time.

Seeing Gu Ning'an fix his gaze on the sign, Ma Mingcai scratched his head awkwardly. "Sir, we really did try to preserve the writing. Whenever it rained or the wind blew, we'd take it down… But over the years, white paper was bound to deteriorate."

Gu Ning'an shook his head with a smile. "It's fine. I'll rewrite it for you in a few days."

"Thank you, sir!" Ma Mingcai couldn't hide his excitement. To have an immortal's handwriting as a signboard—was there any other tailor shop in the world with such an honor?

"Go fetch the robe," Gu Ning'an said. As soon as the words left his mouth, Ma Mingcai bolted into the shop, almost tripping over the doorframe.

Smiling, Gu Ning'an called out, "Be careful!" Then he turned his attention back to the sign, contemplating the reason for the disappearance of the magical energy.

Even though his power had been modest back then, it wasn't something ordinary evil spirits could easily dispel.

Now, the magical energy had dissipated entirely, yet the paper remained intact. It was peculiar, to say the least.

Placing his index finger on the Si position* of his hand, Gu Ning'an calculated the cause of the energy's disappearance. [*150°]

In an instant, the answer became clear.

A cunning yellow weasel spirit had once passed through Lexiang County. Noticing a faint trace of magical energy emanating from old Tailor Ma, it decided to "request a favor" from him.

One night, while the old tailor was returning home drunk, the yellow weasel appeared.

Dressed in a long robe and leaning on an ornate wooden cane, it spoke in human language: "Do I look like an immortal to you?"

Surprisingly, the drunk old tailor wasn't frightened by this sudden encounter. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and replied with an air of wisdom:

"An immortal? Not quite. An immortal must embody simplicity, exude extraordinary grace, and transcend the ordinary—that's what makes one a true immortal!"