After Death, I Became My Shijie’s Palm-Sized Birdie – Chapter 19

Events of the Past, Part 18

Wen Qiwu’s Life Tablet Cracked

“She barely survived, but the Soul Pearl’s effect wasn’t as strong as estimated—it’s still treating symptoms, not the root cause. Sect Master Yun, your method is a bit risky, but if it succeeds, it could reverse Fellow Daoist Wen’s condition… Sect Master Yun, this matter cannot be rushed. You should tend to your own injuries first.”

            

The room was thick with the stench of blood. Yun Heng had just returned from the Huanling Secret Realm, her body still bearing untreated wounds. Blackened blood trailed down her arm and dripped to the floor. On her shoulder gaped a wound that looked as though it had been torn open by a blade—a mangled mess of flesh and blood too gruesome to look at.

For a True Immortal Realm cultivator to be injured this badly, one could only imagine how perilous that secret realm had been.

Since her return, she had been serving as the fusion medium between Wen Qiwu and the Soul Pearl, never once saying a word about the pain. Were it not for the glaring crimson staining everything, anyone would have mistaken her for uninjured.

            

The patient’s condition had now stabilized, so the Medical Immortal urged Yun Heng to treat her wounds at once. If she delayed and the injuries left lingering complications, it would be serious trouble.

Yun Heng hesitated a long while before finally preparing to lay the person in her arms down on the bed. But just then, the unconscious figure began to shed tears.

Yun Heng’s hands froze. She immediately pulled out a clean handkerchief and wiped away her shimei’s tears. Only when her fingertips brushed her shimei’s face did she realize how violently her own hands were shaking—partly from lingering fear, partly from pain.

            

She was made of flesh and blood, not a stone; of course she could feel pain. It was simply that the moment Yun Heng saw a crack split across the jade pendant she carried with her in the Huanling Secret Realm, nothing else had mattered.

Those who saw the Immortal Venerable regularly all knew she kept a jade pendant on her person at all times. It was no treasure—it was a Life Tablet engraved with Wen Qiwu’s name. Wenshen Sect created Life Tablets for all its disciples, each one tied to its owner’s life: a shattered tablet meant the person had died. It looked like nothing more than a palm-sized jade pendant. Everyone else’s tablets were stored at Chengming Hall; only Wen Qiwu’s was carried on Yun Heng’s person at all times. A crack in the tablet meant the owner was in imminent danger. Even during the previous episode, this had never happened. On her way back, Yun Heng’s mind had been almost completely blank.

Only now, feeling her shimei’s steady breathing, did she slowly begin to register the pain in her shoulder.

            

The unconscious figure was restless, her brows furrowing unconsciously, tears soaking the handkerchief. Yun Heng patted her back gently, murmuring in the same soft voice she had used to soothe her shimei through nightmares when she was little: “Ah Que, don’t be afraid.”

Only when her shimei stopped crying did Yun Heng gently lay her back among the blankets.

Her own blood had stained the bedding. Yun Heng used a cleansing spell to clean every trace of blood from the bed before rising.

            

“When will Qiwu likely wake?” she asked the two healers.

The Medical Immortal and Lu Qiaoyi exchanged a glance. Both saw the gravity and uncertainty in the other’s eyes.

“Her coma this time will likely last much longer than the last.” Wen Qiwu’s soul had nearly dispersed entirely. Only Yun Heng’s timely return with the Soul Pearl had reconstituted it. The unconsciousness was also a form of self-protective rest—the deficit she needed to recover from was several times greater than the previous episode, so her slumber would likely be proportionally longer.

            

Yun Heng’s expression was heavy with worry. She reached out to touch her shimei’s gaunt cheek once more, but as she calmed down, the memory of that day’s kiss stopped her hand in midair. She slowly drew it back.

Ah Que, wake up soon. Get well soon.

But even the Medical Immortal hadn’t expected Wen Qiwu to sleep for three years.

            

Three years later, inside the small wooden house at the Cliff of Reflection.

Qingtuan had been resting in its cage with closed eyes as though asleep, when it seemed to hear something. It immediately opened its eyes and began fluttering about, letting out crisp chirps.

The moment Wen Qiwu regained the faintest flicker of consciousness, she felt as though she were sinking into a swamp. Some force behind her seemed to be dragging her down. Her chest was tight, her breathing labored, as though she would suffocate in the darkness the very next second.

            

Then crisp birdsong pierced through the darkness. The sound seemed to disperse it, severing the force that held her trapped. When a thread of light slipped through, her consciousness lunged toward it with all its might. The next moment, her lashes trembled, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Newly awakened, Wen Qiwu was dazed. Her body was so limp she couldn’t muster any strength, and her spirit hadn’t recovered at all from the long sleep—on the contrary, she felt her soul was so exhausted it might slip away again at any moment.

Qingtuan’s calls drew Lu Qiaoyi’s attention. She hurried over, and when she saw that Wen Qiwu was awake, she let out a long breath of relief.

            

“You’re finally awake! Xiao Que’er, you scared me to death this time!” Lu Qiaoyi clutched her chest, then pulled a pill from her Storage Bag and placed it in Wen Qiwu’s mouth. The pill dissolved instantly, transforming into pure spiritual energy that flowed through Wen Qiwu’s body.

The weakness in Wen Qiwu’s limbs eased somewhat. The moment she could move, her expression changed abruptly. She struggled to push herself up and seized the sleeve of Lu Qiaoyi, who had been about to go pour medicine.

“Good heavens, my little ancestor! Are you not afraid of falling!” Lu Qiaoyi was startled by her movement. She had been standing some distance from the bed—Xiao Que’er truly had no fear of crashing to the floor!

            

She rushed to support Wen Qiwu while guiding her back to the bedside, then firmly pressed her down onto the bed.

“Be good, don’t move around. Just talk like this—I’m not going anywhere…” Lu Qiaoyi saw that Wen Qiwu kept gripping her sleeve and refused to let go, so she let her be.

“Shijie—cough…” Wen Qiwu’s throat was terribly dry. She had barely spoken two words before her voice went hoarse, but she used every ounce of strength to cling to the Elder’s sleeve, refusing to let her go pour water. She had something far more important to ask Lu Qiaoyi.

            

“How is my shijie? Is she injured? I smelled blood—so much blood!” Wen Qiwu had been fixated on this the entire time. It was the thought she had clung to while fighting against those flames, the breath she held refusing to surrender. Even if she were dying, she had to see her shijie safe and sound.

“Your shijie is perfectly fine, much better off than you!” Lu Qiaoyi said waspishly. “Worry about yourself instead. What could possibly happen to a True Immortal Realm cultivator?”

Wen Qiwu’s grip on the Elder’s sleeve loosened slightly. “Elder, you’re the only one I can see right now. Please don’t lie to me.”

            

“Why would I lie to you? The Sect Master is giving a lecture to the disciples right now—she couldn’t be better.” Lu Qiaoyi opened a mirror she carried. It was an Immortal Artifact; once infused with Immortal Power, its surface shifted to display Yun Heng lecturing at Wendao Mountain.

Wen Qiwu gazed at the figure in the mirror almost greedily. She had thought she would never see her shijie again.

“But I definitely smelled blood…”

            

“Blood?” Lu Qiaoyi sniffed the air. The room smelled only of medicine and calming incense—where was there any blood?

“I sensed it right before I lost consciousness. I also heard the Medical Immortal say something about being unable to do anything…” Wen Qiwu couldn’t remember clearly, but she couldn’t forget that blood scent—most likely her shijie’s. Even in her coma, she had felt a faint, persistent heart-clenching dread.

Lu Qiaoyi thought for a long while before connecting Wen Qiwu’s words to that scene three years ago. She suddenly understood. “Silly girl, you’ve been unconscious for three years!”

            

Three years?!

Wen Qiwu had no idea so much time had passed. “Then was my shijie injured three years ago?”

“…She did sustain some injuries, but don’t worry—they weren’t serious. The Medical Immortal has already treated them.” Lu Qiaoyi told a lie. It was what Yun Heng had asked of her. In truth, Yun Heng had been hurt badly—wounded by a dragon corpse with an Ancestral Dragon Bloodline. Both the injury and the Corpse Poison were severe, and even now, three years later, she had not fully recovered.

            

Wen Qiwu lowered her head, a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

Lu Qiaoyi patted her head. “Your shijie is fine. Isn’t that a good thing? Why are you crying again?”

Wen Qiwu cast her eyes down, her voice thick. “Elder, I think I regret it.”

            

In that instant closest to death, the regret and longing she had suppressed had swallowed up every other emotion.

If only she had hidden her feelings that day, how would she have ended up in a place where she could only see her shijie when she was nearly dead? Even now, wanting to know whether her shijie was well, she could only try to read the truth from someone else’s words.

Wen Qiwu’s eyes reddened. She watched her shijie’s figure in the mirror again and again. The Elder’s mirror had become her only solace in this place.

            

Lu Qiaoyi didn’t know how to comfort her. To distract Wen Qiwu, she pulled a stack of butterfly-shaped Transmission Butterflies from her Storage Bag. “I found these outside the Cliff of Reflection. They must be for you.”

These were Zuo Lan’s letters. She must have missed Wen Qiwu’s messages before for some reason, and now that she had seen them, she had sent back a flood of replies.

Wen Qiwu rallied her spirits and opened the first butterfly.

            

[I’m so sorry, Miss Wen! My Shizun was provoked by something—I don’t know what—and when we got back, she threw me straight into Yuxi Sect’s Inheritance Tower. Inside there, I couldn’t receive any messages from the outside…]

[Once you’re out of closed-door cultivation, come visit Yuxi Sect. I’ll teach you how to change the dynamic between you and your shijie.]

…Wen Qiwu opened the last message. Zuo Lan’s voice, suddenly raised, was almost jarring.

            

[I heard from Elder Lu of your sect that you’ve been locked up at the Cliff of Reflection?! How could the Immortal Venerable lock you up in a place like that?! I thought she treated you differently… I was wrong about her! Even that dog surnamed Lin never threw me into a place like that! Don’t worry, I’m coming to find you—I’ll figure out a way to get you out!]

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