Chapter 240: First Meeting

“This is way too strange, isn’t it?”

I furrowed my brows and looked around at the unremarkable bamboo grove. In my memory, bamboo did give off a faint, fresh scent, but it was never enough to muddle your senses like this.

It felt just like when I was a child, before our home had natural gas installed—when you’d linger in the bathroom for too long with the gas burning, and the closed space would fill with the stuffy, dizzy feeling your body instinctively produced.

Just in case, I took out an unused piece of cotton cloth, dripped more than a dozen drops of medicated oil onto it, then tied it around the lower half of my face, covering my mouth and nose.

This could count as the second time in my life I’d encountered something that exceeded my understanding—the first time was that mysterious Rag Cat’s Cottage in the back mountain, and now, this bamboo grove without a single trace of insects or animals.

Having taken my precautions, I quickened my pace, hoping to find the old lady who could foresee the future before the scent of bamboo, mixed with the menthol from the medicated oil, could affect me.

The compass was still spinning wildly, but fortunately, although the bamboo stood tall in orderly rows, their leaves were sparser than those of ordinary trees. Even though their canopies touched, plenty of sunlight still filtered through the gaps.

I seized the chance to focus more on the guidance of the sun, doing my best to keep walking in a straight line.

“Crack… crack…”

With no animals around, only the gentle breeze kept me company as I walked deeper in. The leaves became even sparser, until all I could hear was the rhythmic sound of my own footsteps. My sense of time gradually grew fuzzy.

As my thoughts drifted, I remembered that, as a modern person, I was carrying technological equipment. I reached into my pocket, intending to take out my phone to check the time.

Suddenly, an extremely light footstep reached my ears, making me stop just before I pressed the button to light up the screen.

Before I could look toward the source of the sound, its owner dashed at me over the scattered bamboo leaves.

The phone in my hand was snatched away in a single bite. I barely managed to see that it was a Rag Cat with mottled fur. Its clever eyes spun around quickly, then it trotted off with my phone still in its mouth, occasionally glancing back at me as if urging me to follow.

“……”

I took a deep breath, feeling a rush of relief at finally seeing a way out.

If this were an ordinary day and I ran into such a mischievous stray cat, I’d probably only feel annoyed and helpless.

But in this eerie bamboo grove where not even an ant or flying insect could be found, to encounter a living, breathing cat—with a gaze so full of human expression, even striking a pose as if to lead the way—it really did ease my anxiety, even if just a little.

I had no idea how this Rag Cat had gotten into the bamboo grove, or why it had snatched my phone just as I was about to turn it on.

All I knew was that following it would give me a good chance of meeting the old lady.

I took off the red cotton cloth from my face and tied it to a nearby stalk of bamboo. Then I pulled out a differently colored yellow cotton cloth from my backpack, marking that I was now deviating from my straight path.

The Rag Cat didn’t bounce around restlessly or rush ahead; instead, it just sat obediently in place.

“Alright, let’s go,” I said, gripping the yellow cotton cloth and cautiously speaking to the Rag Cat.

Who knows if it understood my words, but it did change from its sitting posture, stretching out lazily in a classic feline sprawl.

Its little padded paws trod softly on the bamboo leaf-strewn path, making a soothing “swish” sound.

I kept an appropriate distance, following the Rag Cat, occasionally checking the compass and the sun overhead, and tying the yellow cotton cloth to the bamboo as I went.

Silently counting how many cloths I’d used, when I reached the fourth one, an old-fashioned wooden cottage appeared at the edge of my vision.

“Meow~”

The Rag Cat stopped abruptly, gently set my phone on the ground, let out a “meow,” and then sprinted off on all fours toward the other side of the bamboo grove, like it was finally free to have some fun after finishing its mission.

I had no impulse to try and catch it to make it lead me any further. With my current fitness, I’d probably never catch up to a Rag Cat going all-out, adapted as it was to every terrain.

Watching it disappear, I hurried alone toward the distant wooden cottage.

Even in the countryside, such a cottage looked too old-fashioned, like something straight out of a historical drama—at first glance, it gave off an indescribable sense of unreality.

There were no vegetable patches, no fruit trees or flowers, none of the little things rural people usually grew near their homes in the old days. No pens for pigs or cows either; just a chopping block for firewood, and a simple, weathered gray-black stove.

I looked over the scene, and was about to take a picture with my phone, only to find that, despite having charged it fully beforehand, the screen refused to turn on, no matter how I pressed it.

Could it really be out of battery? Or did the Rag Cat break it when it bit down? But there were no visible cracks on the screen or back.

Puzzled, I didn’t plan to linger—opportunities slip away quickly. Since I couldn’t record it, I’d just see it with my own eyes.

Having made up my mind, I sped up from a brisk walk to a slow jog, then finally to an all-out sprint.

As the rush of air from running whipped past my ears, the confusion and curiosity I’d buried deep in my memory quietly resurfaced and took over.

“You don’t need to rush so much, young man, you’ll wear yourself out.”

As I drew closer to the cottage, just as I was wondering what might happen next, a stranger’s voice sounded at my side—a woman’s voice, hoarse and aged, yet steady.

My heart jumped. It was my body’s instinctive warning of the unknown. I quickly slowed down and looked to my side.

There, standing quietly in the woods, was an old woman, slightly stooped, draped in a black cloak, staring at me silently.

“After all your trouble to find me, tell me—what is it you wish to know, lucky young man?”

“……”

I hadn’t expected the tightly-wrapped old lady the white-haired uncle had mentioned to appear before me so suddenly, leaving me at a loss for what to say.

But the thing that unsettled me most was how she seemed to have known I’d come here all along, and the way she said I was ‘favored by fortune’—these were phrases rarely heard in real life, strung together in a way that made everything feel a bit unreal. It took me a long while to recover my composure.