Chapter Thirty-Seven: Seven Starlit Lanterns, Blessings Bestowed Upon All

Dusk approached, and the first lights of the city began to flicker on. “Blessings of the Boundless Heavenly Lord.” Liaochen, dressed in a tattered Daoist robe and bearing a Daoist hairpin, knocked on the first door.

A middle-aged woman, plainly dressed and clearly from a humble household, opened the door. She looked at Liaochen in surprise and asked, “What brings you here, Daoist?”

“I am here to beg for half a tael of lamp oil and a wisp of fire,” Liaochen said, bowing respectfully.

“Crazy?” the woman muttered, barely giving him a second glance before slamming the door with a loud bang. “Where did this madman come from?” she grumbled.

Liaochen forced a bitter smile, shook his head, and walked away to the next house. To be honest, lamp oil was precious these days; ordinary folk were loath to burn even a bit more than necessary. Liaochen had braced himself for such cold receptions.

He knocked again—this time, a man in his thirties answered.

“Blessings of the Boundless. I have come to ask for half a tael of lamp oil and a wisp of fire,” Liaochen said, bowing.

“Strange, I’ve never heard of someone begging for that before. Wait a moment, I’ll ask my mother,” the man replied, calling into the house, “Mother, there’s a Daoist here who wants some lamp oil and to borrow a light!” “Alright, I’ll be right there,” an elderly woman’s voice replied.

Soon, an old woman, nearly fifty, emerged, carrying a small oil lamp and a cloth bag of rice. Liaochen quickly protested, “Elder, the lamp oil and the fire are more than enough. Thank you for your kindness.” The old woman said nothing, simply poured some lamp oil into Liaochen’s star lamp and used her own flame to light it for him.

Liaochen’s heart warmed, and he firmly declined the rice. He bowed deeply to the woman, wishing her longevity and peace, before carrying his small flame off into the darkness.

“That Daoist is truly strange,” the man muttered, only to be gently chastised by his mother with a light slap, “Don’t speak nonsense. I think this Daoist is no ordinary man.” She picked up her rice and went back inside, leaving the man standing outside in confusion.

Again, Liaochen knocked on another door, and again he recited, “Blessings of the Boundless, I have come to borrow half a tael of lamp oil and a wisp of fire.”

“Get out! Where did this crazy wandering Daoist come from?” came the sharp reply.

Night deepened and the lights grew scarcer. Liaochen, carrying his star lamp—a lamp that seemed to always threaten to go out—prepared to return home. The sky was pitch black, yet the stars above glittered brightly, a reflection of the myriad lights of humanity below. As Liaochen walked the mountain path, he marveled, then noticed a faint light still shining in the distance. He quickened his pace toward that fragile glow.

He knocked, and after some time, the door creaked open. An old blind woman stood before him. “Blessings of the Boundless, is there anyone else at home?” Liaochen asked in surprise.

“Oh, it’s a Daoist. Only this old woman lives here now. My grandniece comes daily to help me, but otherwise I am alone. What brings you here?” she inquired.

“Since you live alone, why do you keep a lamp burning?” Liaochen asked.

“My home is isolated. When my son was little, he always said he couldn’t find his way back in the dark. Later, when my son was gone, my grandson said the same. Ever since, I’ve always kept a lamp burning, hoping my son or grandson will find their way home,” she replied.

Hearing this, Liaochen studied her face. He saw the marks of hardship and solitude, her features dimmed by fate. Her son was long gone, yet not entirely severed from this world—her grandson was still alive somewhere, though he had not returned. This old woman was destined to have no one to see her through her final years.

“I have come to beg for half a tael of lamp oil and a wisp of fire,” Liaochen said.

“I have little else, but plenty of lamp oil. I’m afraid the lamp will go out and I wouldn’t know. If my son or grandson ever return, I don’t want them to lose their way. Come, Daoist, take as much as you need.” With that, she led Liaochen, feeling her way to the main hall, where a basin-sized porcelain jar stood half full of lamp oil. On a nearby table, an oil lamp burned steadily, the door purposefully left open as if to light the way for a returning loved one.

Liaochen felt a pang in his heart. He took half a tael of oil and borrowed a flame from the oil lamp. “Blessings of the Boundless Heavenly Lord. Granny, your grandson will surely return one day,” he said.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you for your kind words,” the old woman replied, smiling, though perhaps she knew it was only a hope. Liaochen bowed in silence, turned to glance at the small house where the lamp burned on, and departed resolutely, leaving the old woman waiting in the lamplight.

The next day, the old woman told her grandniece about the visitor. The girl laughed, “You mean that Daoist? He came to our house yesterday too, only asking for lamp oil and fire. What a peculiar man. Many in the village saw him. My mother scolded him and shut the door in his face. My father said a few words, and they argued half the night until my grandfather lost his temper and finally silenced them.” The old woman said nothing, silently recalling the Daoist’s words.

The following morning, Liaochen rose early and called for Yunhua to prepare for a journey north. Yunhua hurried to pack. Liaochen, as if remembering something, went to Yunhua’s room and found Yun Fox still fast asleep. He strode over, grabbed the fox by the scruff, and shook his head, thinking, “You’re even fatter now, how will you ever find a mate?” The fox, still groggy, opened its eyes, saw Liaochen, and, reassured, promptly went back to sleep—even as it dangled in his grasp.

“This won’t do. Left outside, you'd be eaten on your first day,” Liaochen muttered, ignoring the fox’s plaintive gaze. “We’re leaving for a while. Today we set out, no more sleeping. You’re almost a pig now.”

Liaochen and Yunhua donned their Daoist robes once more and, under the astonished eyes of the townsfolk, left the small town, heading north.

“Master, where are we going?” Yunhua asked.

“The great northern grasslands,” Liaochen replied, gazing toward the distant horizon. “And all the way, we’ll beg for lamp oil and fire.”