"The mountain path is rugged and steep. Don't push yourself at your age."

  On Sylvirid Mount, the rising sun hung high. Mei sat beneath a tree, enjoying the cool breeze. A tea table was set before her, with water boiling in a kettle as she contentedly steeped unknown tea leaves.

  "Three years have passed in a blink. My body is failing more each day. While I can still move, I want to climb up and take a look. In a few more years, I truly won't be able to."

  Xiu sighed. A person unwilling to admit their age was indeed a pathetic sight.

  "Coming up here wasn't for any grand purpose, it was purely a whim."

  "Very good," Mei smiled. "It's quiet here. An occasional chat is nice."

  Xiu felt curious. "Don't you ever plan to go down the mountain and see the world?"

  Mei’s expression remained serene. "To me, everywhere is the same. It is simply quieter here."

  Xiu could not understand. Mei was supposedly immortal, yet now she seemed to abstain from food entirely. Living on the mountain year-round, where could she possibly find enough to eat?

  However, he felt such a reality was too absurd. Could someone truly be immortal? Was the person before him truly an eternal being? He could not be certain.

  Xiu was an insincere seeker of the Dao. He did not yearn for cultivation. Seeking Mei was merely to satisfy his curiosity and obsession. For him, life was like pursuing a fantasy, a form of romance. To speak of science or research now would simply spoil the mood.

  He likely did not have many good years left anyway. He decided to witness it with his own eyes, to compare his fleeting life with this ancient being. Humans were sometimes just that bored, doing meaningless things simply because they wanted to.

  Because it was truly interesting.

  Xiu said, "I'll come again next year."

  Mei said nothing. She merely continued to brew her tea calmly. The steam vaporized in the gentle breeze as a faint aroma of tea mingled with the wind and the rustling leaves. It brought peace to the mind.

  Xiu took a camera from his bag. "May I take a photo with you?"

  "Please, go ahead."

  Click!

  On Sylvirid Mount, Mei sat under a tree making tea. Xiu set up his camera, donned his backpack, and took a picture with her. Then, he descended the mountain.

  Before leaving, Xiu turned and glanced back. He saw a small bird land beside Mei, chirping. Mei extended her hand, and the bird hopped onto it.

  ...

  The following year, Xiu’s health rapidly declined. He was forced to lean on a cane and no longer had the stamina to climb mountains. The photo had been developed. He placed it on the table.

  One day, Xiu’s son, Xiao, came home to visit and noticed the photo. He couldn't help but ask, "Father, who is this?"

  "A Daoist."

  "Is this on the mountain?"

  Xiao examined the black-and-white photo, adjusted his glasses, and immediately recalled that his father had climbed the mountain alone last year.

  "Yes, Sylvirid Mount."

  Then, Xiu casually remarked, "My legs aren't what they used to be. If it's convenient in the future, please go up Sylvirid Mount for me and visit the Daoist temple on the peak."

  "Alright."

  Initially, Xiao did not pay much attention to his father's words. It was not until five years later that Xiu, gravely ill, passed away at the age of sixty-four. Before his death, he handed the photo to Xiao, admonishing him to keep it safe and repeatedly urging him to check if the Daoist on the mountain had aged.

  Following his father's wishes, Xiao ascended Sylvirid Mount. His father had seemed deeply concerned about the person in the photo, so he decided to make the trip.

  "Chirp!"

  A small bird landed nearby, chirped twice, and flew off. Xiao wiped the sweat from his forehead. Finally, he saw the Daoist temple. He saw the Daoist from the photo.

  She was identical to the person in the picture. There was not the slightest difference.

  Calculating the time, his father's last visit was six or seven years ago. Many years had passed, yet the Daoist showed no change at all.

  Xiao was slightly surprised but did not find it too strange. Some people were simply very resistant to aging; a few years without significant change was nothing extraordinary.

  Xiao had never really delved into his father's research. Even if he had, it would have been difficult for him to connect Mei to the Anonymous Daoist from the Xyrin Dynasty's history.

  "I am Xiu’s son, Xiao. My father passed away from illness. He often spoke of you during his lifetime, so I came up the mountain specifically to visit you."

  "Birth, old age, sickness, and death are the norm for humans. You bear a strong resemblance to your father."

  Their first meeting was just a very ordinary conversation. After the visit, Xiao descended the mountain. Later, he realized that something seemed off, but he could not pinpoint exactly what was strange.

  Another ten years passed. Xiao’s child had already started a family. Only then did he remember that there was such a small Daoist temple on Sylvirid Mount, and such a Daoist.

  By this time, he was nearing fifty. In his leisure, while organizing his father's belongings, Xiao saw that black-and-white photograph once again. He felt a sudden urge to climb Sylvirid Mount again.

  He wanted to know: was that Daoist still on the mountain?

  ...

  Ten years later,

  Xiao once again ascended Sylvirid Mount. The place felt suspended in time. Regardless of how the outside world changed, this peak remained forever distant from the noise and bustle, tranquil and serene.

  A Daoist temple.

  An ancient tree.

  A Daoist.

  However, the Daoist in the temple was still youthful. Only then did Xiao realize that Mei’s appearance showed no signs of aging whatsoever; there was no change at all.

  His father had climbed Sylvirid Mount twice, and he had now done the same. A total of nearly twenty years had passed, and it was biologically impossible for a person to show no signs of aging over such a long period.

  Xiao then remembered how his father had repeatedly urged him before his death to check if the Daoist on the mountain had aged. It turned out his father had noticed the anomaly long ago.

  "May I take a picture with you?"

  "Please, go ahead."

  The words were identical, yet they were spoken by a different man.

  Click!

  After setting the camera for a delayed shot, the moment was captured on film. Mei stood beneath the tree, gazing up at a bird's nest in the branches, lost in thought.

  Xiao walked over and stood beside Mei. Dressed in a brown sweater, his face already bore clear wrinkles and the marks of time. Unlike his father's era, this photograph was now in full color.

  Eventually, Xiao placed the two photographs side by side on his study desk: his father’s photo with Mei, and his own.

  One black and white, one in color.

  Driven by curiosity, he retrieved his father's old research project. He wanted to understand exactly what Xiu had been investigating all those years.

  The History of the Xyrin Dynasty.

  The Anonymous Daoist.

  Xiao organized the research materials his father had left behind and quickly grasped the core of the study. When these words met his eyes, he immediately connected them to the Daoist on Sylvirid Mount. Most importantly, he discovered a specific painting.

  That painting, unearthed from Mi'hang’s tomb, depicted a young Daoist standing before an alchemy furnace while several acolytes fanned the flames. To one side, the Emperor and Mi'hang observed with curiosity.

  Even with the most meticulous scrutiny, the young Daoist in the painting was almost identical to the Daoist on Sylvirid Mount. With the evidence before him, Xiao found the reality utterly unbelievable.

  If his conclusion was correct, his father had found the Anonymous Daoist from the history of the Xyrin Dynasty. This person had lived for hundreds of years and was still alive today.

  After the initial shock, Xiao calmed himself.

  Despite this world-shattering discovery, he had no intention of revealing it. Although his life was not extraordinarily wealthy or noble, he was free from financial worries and felt no need to chase fame or attention. Doing so would only disrupt his peace.

  However, the sudden realization that immortality was possible completely reshaped Xiao’s worldview. He immediately developed a profound interest in the Anonymous Daoist.

  While he was organizing his father's research, Xiao’s son returned home. His son was named Geshi, twenty-six years old and married just last year. Since they lived nearby, he visited often.

  "Father, I heard you went climbing a distant mountain recently?"

  "Yes, Sylvirid Mount."

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  As Xiao continued to sort his materials, he asked, "I will probably go again next year. Do you want to come with me? Your grandfather also climbed Sylvirid Mount twice."

  Geshi was puzzled. "Why specifically Sylvirid Mount? We have quite a few famous mountains nearby, don't we?"

  "To meet an old friend of your grandfather's."

  "Is that person still on the mountain?"

  "Yes."

  Geshi did not pay much attention to the conversation. Just as Xiao had once lacked interest in Xiu’s research, Geshi felt no connection to his grandfather's past. This was why Geshi never bothered to examine the two photos on his father's table, and Xiao saw no reason to tell his son the truth yet.

  The following year, when Xiao climbed Sylvirid Mount for the third time, it was late autumn. The weather had turned cold, but since the mountain was in the south, it did not snow.

  This time, he came alone again.

  "It's a bit cold outside. Let's go in and warm ourselves by the fire."

  "Thank you, I apologize for the intrusion."

  "No trouble at all."

  The door of the Daoist temple stood slightly ajar. Mei moved the kettle inside and started boiling water. The crackle of burning firewood echoed as the two sat before the hearth. The warmth washed over them, and Xiao suddenly felt a deep sense of comfort.

  During his previous two visits, he had not been overly interested in Mei. This time, however, he was like a radio that could not be switched off; he had endless questions and was brimming with excitement.

  Xiao was intensely curious. "Daoist, have you truly lived since the Xyrin Dynasty?"

  "Truly."

  "Are you immortal?"

  "Something like that, I suppose."

  Xiao had known Mei for over ten years, but only today did he truly open up to her. Regarding Mei as both an otherworldly master and an elder, he had so much to say.

  He never asked for immortality himself. He understood his place. The three emperors of the Xyrin Dynasty had waited until their dying breaths without ever receiving an elixir of immortality; what right did he have to expect one?

  Furthermore, Xiao was content with his life. He had never suffered true hardship and knew how lucky he was. Living forever might only bring unforeseen suffering, so it was best to forgo such things.

  The wise understood that living a long life was not necessarily a blessing.

  Later,

  He spoke with Mei about everyday family matters—things a man could not easily discuss with his wife and children, nor share too deeply with even his closest friends.

  In this detached, tranquil setting, Xiao found it easy to speak freely.

  "Inadvertently, decades have passed. Studying, working, marrying, having children, and now retiring step by step. This life of mine has almost reached its completion."

  It was a life without ripples or surprises. Xiao felt a touch of melancholy, though he knew some people could not bear such a quiet existence. He, however, was content.

  At this point, Xiao’s eyes lit up as he changed the subject.

  "Daoist, perhaps in the future, you might meet my son."

  "If all goes well, we should certainly meet."

  Mei refilled the teapot, pouring a cup of hot water for Xiao. The cold wind outside had begun to howl, but Xiao’s interest only grew. To be able to pass on such a secret—one that was meant to remain hidden from the world—was truly a fascinating prospect.

  "Haha!" Xiao said cheerfully. "It will be just like when I discovered my father’s research. That boy will surely be shocked when he finds out about this."

  Mei also found the situation somewhat amusing and felt inclined to add a suggestion.

  "Would you like me to calculate a specific time for you?"

  "Could you truly do that?"

  "Of course."

  "Haha, then I must trouble you."

  ...

  After descending the mountain, Xiao returned home.

  Geshi asked, "Went to Sylvirid Mount again?"

  "Mm." Xiao smiled and added, "It is your loss for not joining me. Otherwise, you could have broadened your horizons and gained some worldly wisdom. You will regret it later."

  Geshi glanced at him sideways with a smirk.

  "What is the matter, Father? When I go, will I see immortals flying on swords or witness divine tribulations and ascensions? You are an old man with a beard now; can't you stop running around so recklessly?"

  "Honestly, you refuse to even listen."

  Geshi flopped onto the sofa, lazily flipping through a magazine. LCD screens seemed to be the latest trend. He thought he should upgrade his old desktop computer soon; the machine was long overdue for a replacement. Not only was it a strain on the eyes, but the screen was far too small—problems that an LCD would easily solve.

  Geshi had graduated from a prestigious school with a rare major, and his salary was quite high. However, after getting married, every major expenditure required a negotiation with his wife. He did not dare spend money impulsively.

  He lived in constant fear of his wife's scolding.

  "Dad, I think that old desktop in the study should be replaced. Aren't your eyes tired?"

  As soon as his son opened his mouth, Xiao knew he had a hidden motive for the visit. Xiao rarely used the computer himself; the "dust collector" in the study had been silent for a long time.

  "I think you mean you need an upgrade."

  "Heh heh."

  Geshi had not used his old home computer in years. Had he stepped into the study and used it recently, he would surely have discovered the two photographs Xiao had placed prominently on the desk.

  "That is true," Xiao remarked, suddenly remembering something. "I will give you a date; make sure you remember it: August 30, 2017. Remember it well, do not forget."

  "August 30, 2017."

  Geshi found a scrap of paper to write it down. He had no idea what that day signified. It was only 1995; 2017 was still over twenty years away.

  "Remembering it is enough," Xiao said, refusing to provide any further explanation.

  ...

  Another year passed.

  Sylvirid Mount was draped in a silver mist. In the south, it was surprisingly snowing, and Xiao, upon reaching the top, found himself unable to leave for a time.

  He held a cup of hot water, curiously observing the falling snow outside.

  "This is truly rare. I do not recall it ever snowing here before."

  "It has," Mei replied. She was currently repairing a worn-out table in the Daoist temple, considering crafting a few new pieces from wood when she eventually went down the mountain.

  "Roughly seventy years ago, there was a Snow Calamity. Snow fell continuously from the north until it reached near Sylvirid Mount. Your father likely remembers it, but you would have been too young."

  Xiao thought about it; he truly had no memory of such an event. He was sixty this year; seventy years ago, he had not even been born.

  "Indeed, no one ever mentioned it."

  He sighed deeply, looking at Mei with a mix of awe and emotion. "In the blink of an eye, I am sixty now. Daoist, your appearance hasn't changed at all."

  Ten years ago, Mei looked this youthful. Twenty years ago, she looked exactly the same. Even thirty years ago, she had maintained this identical appearance.

  It was truly unbelievable.

  If Mei had shown even the slightest sign of aging, Xiao would have taken her to Xiu for a proper medical examination. Unfortunately, that opportunity never arose because she simply never aged.

  It seemed Mei had never lied to them.

  His family had witnessed her existence firsthand over the span of decades, yet it felt like living in a fleeting dream. The mountains, the rivers, the sun, and the moon remained as they were, and this Daoist temple stood firm against the harsh winds and rain.

  And the young Daoist inside remained unchanged.

  Yet, he had gradually grown old.

  The feeling was profound. Xiao felt an inexpressible sense of emotion. There were no flashy Daoist spells or dramatic spectacles of wind and clouds—only the quiet, relentless passage of time against an eternal constant.

  Meeting the most extraordinary of truths with the most ordinary of eyes.

  Xiao grew increasingly content.

  "Daoist, looking back at my life, keeping such a secret feels quite rewarding. By the way, my granddaughter wants to pursue painting and art. What do you think?"

  "Very good," Mei replied.

  Xiao’s entire life had been a complete one.

  Beep—

  As the signal from his heart rate monitor stabilized, Xiao peacefully closed his eyes on his sickbed, without a single trace of regret.

  He was seventy-one years old.

  In that same year, Xiao’s son, Geshi, was exactly forty-eight.

  While sorting through Xiao’s belongings, Geshi discovered a wealth of his grandfather’s research materials and books, along with two photographs taken decades apart.

  "This is..."

  One photo was black and white, the other in color. Although decades had passed, Geshi recognized his grandfather, Xiu, in the black-and-white image at a glance.

  The man in the color photo was his father, Xiao.

  Aside from the two men, the rest of the scene was almost identical: the same Daoist temple, the same ancient tree, and the same young Daoist. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place.

  But upon realization, the situation became increasingly unbelievable—even chilling. The two photos had been taken approximately twenty years apart.

  Yet, the Daoist within them showed no sign of aging whatsoever.

  "Sylvirid Mount!"

  Geshi immediately recalled that it wasn't just his grandfather who visited; his father had frequented the mountain as well. Had they both gone to meet this specific Daoist?

  He continued to sift through the inheritance.

  Soon, Geshi found the Xyrin Dynasty records that Xiao had meticulously organized. They contained numerous rumors and historical accounts of the Anonymous Daoist, along with the ancient painting Xiu had brought back.

  All the evidence indicated to Geshi that the young woman on Sylvirid Mount was the legendary Anonymous Daoist, an eternal being. Subsequently, he discovered Xiao’s diary.

  It was filled with entries regarding the mountain and the Daoist. Upon opening the first page, the opening sentence struck Geshi with a profound shock.

  【August 30, 2017: My son will find this diary and learn of the secret that my father and I have kept all these years.】

  Geshi trembled slightly, nearly dropping the notebook. He looked at his watch, remembering that day over twenty years ago when his father had told him to memorize this date.

  Today was precisely August 30, 2017.

  Fuelled by curiosity, he read further.

  ...

  【May 5, 1984】

  【Note: Father passed away today. He entrusted me with visiting the Daoist on Sylvirid Mount as a final favor. Only then did I learn he believed in the Dao. How did I never notice this in our daily life?】

  ...

  【October 15, 1984】

  【Note: I climbed Sylvirid Mount. There was indeed a small Daoist temple there. Inside was the very same Daoist who appeared in the photograph with Father.】

  ...

  【August 21, 1994】

  【Note: Ten years have passed. I climbed Sylvirid Mount again. The Daoist’s appearance has not changed at all. After returning, I found a fact in Father’s research notes that is almost impossible to believe.】

  ...

  【July 13, 1995】

  【Note: The Daoist calculated a date for me, saying my son would see this diary on August 30, 2017. It seems she is accurate, though I dare not guarantee it.】

  ...

  Bang!

  Having finished Xiao’s lifetime diary, Geshi snapped the notebook shut. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, he began packing his gear. There was only one thing he needed to do.

  He had to go to Sylvirid Mount immediately.

  He needed to see for himself if such a person truly existed.

  "Whoosh—"

  Not long after, a panting Geshi reached the peak. When the old Daoist temple finally came into view, he felt an unprecedented sense of peace. In the quiet serenity, he stepped inside.

  He saw the young Daoist.

  Everything was real.

  Click!

  Just like that, another photograph was added to the collection. On Sylvirid Mount, Geshi, clad in mountaineering gear, stood beside Mei, who was dressed in her traditional Daoist robe, looking toward the camera with his hands clasped.

  Many years later, Geshi’s daughter, Wanyi, became a renowned artist and held a grand exhibition in her hometown. She asked her father to select a piece for the centerpiece of the gallery.

  After long contemplation, Geshi placed three photographs together in a single frame. The first was the black-and-white photo of Xiu and Mei. The second was the color photo of Xiao and Mei.

  The third was the photo of himself and Mei.

  The spot for the fourth photograph remained empty, leaving an unbalanced, vacant corner in the frame that made some observers feel slightly uneasy.

  However, it was precisely this emptiness and asymmetry in the fourth spot that gave the artwork its haunting beauty and artistic weight. At the exhibition, Wanyi saw these three photographs for the first time.

  Three generational portraits spanning nearly a century were combined, telling the story of a family using ordinary years to silently chronicle an extraordinary experience.

  Wanyi stared at that empty corner.

  That same year, she ascended Sylvirid Mount. It was as if the composition of the frame depended entirely on that missing fourth photograph to highlight its profound meaning.

  On Sylvirid Mount, the Daoist temple was still the same temple.

  The ancient tree was still the same ancient tree.

  But the Daoist was nowhere to be found.