After Death, I Became My Shijie’s Palm-Sized Birdie – Chapter 71
by Little PandaPraying for Blessings
Is the little phoenix really this round?
Early the next morning, sunlight spilled into the room. Wen Qiwu’s lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.
The space beside her was already cold, and the small bed nearby was empty too. Wen Qiwu rubbed her eyes and sat up.
Where had her shijie gone?
She noticed a transmission paper crane sitting on the low cabinet beside her… except this “paper crane” was very plump — its round, roly-poly silhouette had clearly given up any pretense of crane form. Wen Qiwu found it deeply familiar; after all, this was exactly what she saw in the mirror whenever she returned to her original form.
“Am I really this round?” Wen Qiwu poked the plump paper phoenix and murmured.
The moment she touched the little dumpling, the immortal power sealed inside it stirred, and it spoke in Yun Heng’s voice: “Ah Que, your shijie is going out to buy a few things. I’ll be back soon. That girl Xiao Tong has taken the child away, so don’t worry…”
This early in the morning? What could shijie be buying?
Wen Qiwu tucked the paper dumpling into her storage bag. This unfinished little dumpling was hereby confiscated.
By the time she’d washed up and left the room, she found Xiao Tong feeding the child breakfast. Fortunately, the inn wasn’t busy yet, so Xiao Tong still had time to look after her.
“Innkeeper, did those two demons confess? Where did they steal this child from?” Xiao Tong asked between spoonfuls, glancing at the innkeeper standing not far off.
The innkeeper had already collected herself. The City Master was gravely wounded, and as her trusted confidante, every move she made was being watched by outsiders. She absolutely could not show the fragile posture she’d displayed last night.
So she’d been here since early morning, working the abacus beads with a black look on her face. Everyone could tell her mood was foul — they just assumed it was because the two penniless demon wretches had smashed the inn’s ceiling yesterday and couldn’t pay for the damages.
At Xiao Tong’s question, the innkeeper’s fingers paused briefly over the abacus.
“They’ve confessed. They snatched the child from an old beggar living among the ruined houses in the south of the city. I sent people to look into it — the grandfather and granddaughter had indeed begged around the southern quarter for years. It’s just… those two demons didn’t spare the old man when they took her. This child is an orphan now.” The innkeeper’s expression was dark, her thoughts unreadable.
“Those two beasts!” Xiao Tong cursed through gritted teeth. “Then what happens to this child? Without any family… she won’t survive on her own.”
The innkeeper glanced at the quiet little girl, who sat as still and silent as a porcelain doll.
“She can stay at the inn for now.” The innkeeper sighed. She could hardly send the child off somewhere to fend for herself, could she? One more mouth to feed wouldn’t cost much.
“Innkeeper, did those two demons say why they stole this child?” Wen Qiwu asked as she came down the stairs.
“They did. They were practicing some evil art that required flesh and blood as offerings, and this child fit their requirements, so they took her.” The innkeeper bade Wen Qiwu good morning, then explained the whole affair from start to finish.
“An evil art?” Wen Qiwu walked over to the child. A breeze drifting in through the door stirred her skirt, carrying a faint sweet fragrance to the little girl’s nose.
The child’s nose twitched. Then she groped about, reaching out to catch hold of Wen Qiwu’s sleeve.
“She recognizes you!” Xiao Tong said, delighted. The girl had been unresponsive to everyone — this was the first time she’d ever reached for someone on her own.
Wen Qiwu patted her head, then asked the innkeeper, “Has the child been affected by the evil art?”
“We checked. None of that filth is on her.” Thank the heavens the two demons hadn’t had time to actually begin — that was the only reason the child had escaped with her little life.
A flash of anger crossed the innkeeper’s heart. If the City Master were safe and sound, how would creatures like those have dared to sneak into Jiaoyue City!
“Innkeeper, the roof repairers are here! Could you come take a look?” A waiter poked his head out and called to her.
“On my way.”
The innkeeper walked past Wen Qiwu and the child. A wisp of cloud pine incense, faint and elusive, unfurled through the air — and the child holding Wen Qiwu’s sleeve suddenly lifted her head. She raised her hand as if to catch the person passing by, but the innkeeper’s stride was quick; by the time the girl’s fingers reached out, they only grazed a hem.
A flicker of what looked like dejection crossed the child’s eyes, then vanished.
Xiao Tong hurriedly pressed the girl’s hand back down. “Be good — if you need anything, come find me! The innkeeper’s in a bad mood, and she’s really, really scary!”
Only after saying it did Xiao Tong smack her own forehead. What was she doing? The child couldn’t hear. That reaction just now… she’d probably only sensed someone walking past and gotten a little nervous, right?
“Xiao Tong.” The innkeeper hadn’t gotten far at all before she heard Xiao Tong bad-mouthing her to a child who couldn’t even hear.
She didn’t know whether to be angry or to laugh.
“S-sorry! Innkeeper, I didn’t mean it! Please don’t dock my wages!” Xiao Tong looked up, saw the smile on the innkeeper’s face, and nearly had her three ethereal and seven corporeal souls1 fly right out of her body. She scrambled to apologize.
“Hmph. Get back to work.” With honored guests present, the innkeeper said nothing more — just shot her a glare and headed for the kitchen.
Xiao Tong cautiously raised her head, and only after confirming the innkeeper had truly left did she exhale in relief.
Wen Qiwu covered her lips and laughed softly. Xiao Tong scratched her head, a little embarrassed. “Heh, sorry you had to see that.”
Yun Heng returned just in time to see her shimei laughing at Xiao Tong’s antics — and when the girl looked her way, the amusement still dancing in her eyes carried a lovely, radiant glow.
“Shijie, where did you go?” Wen Qiwu walked to her side. Her voice carried a trace of coquettishness, and a trace of small “grievance” at waking to find her shijie gone.
“I went to buy some things for the Dragon Gate Grand Ceremony. Xiao Tong told me about it — at the end of the ceremony, everyone releases carp lanterns. We write our prayers on the lanterns, and they rise up together with the dragon carriages. It symbolizes…”
“It symbolizes a fish leaping the Dragon Gate2 — may all your wishes come true!” Xiao Tong chimed in eagerly.
“Exactly. May all wishes come true.” Yun Heng nodded slightly, a soft light in her eyes.
She hadn’t known the ceremony carried such a custom. She’d only learned of it this morning, when she overheard Xiao Tong and the others discussing whether their carp lanterns were finished.
Xiao Tong had said that a lantern made by one’s own hands carries more sincerity, so Yun Heng had planned to pick up a few sets of carp lantern materials while she was out running errands.
Xiao Tong had been rather astonished at the time — did even an Immortal Venerable of the True Immortal Realm have wishes to pray to the heavens for?
Of course she did.
Immortals weren’t omnipotent. There was a great deal Yun Heng wanted to pray for.
“Then I’ll make one too.” Wen Qiwu’s interest was piqued. She had a wish of her own — that her shijie stay safe and healthy, all lingering illnesses eradicated.
“Should I make a lantern for this little one too?” Xiao Tong patted the child’s head. “Poor thing. May heaven take pity on her and give her the chance to get better.”
As they spoke, the inn gradually filled with customers. The other waiters couldn’t keep up, so Xiao Tong went off to help.
“It’s getting crowded — shall we take the child back upstairs?” Wen Qiwu suggested. Then they could put their heads together and figure out how to make a carp lantern.
“All right.” Yun Heng nodded and moved to pick the child up — only to find that before she’d even touched her, the little girl was trembling violently.
“What’s wrong?” Wen Qiwu checked her over but found no injury or relapse. Yet the moment Yun Heng stepped back a little, the child returned to normal.
“Strange. She wasn’t afraid of you yesterday.” Wen Qiwu patted the girl’s back. A pity they couldn’t communicate — otherwise she could have asked why she was so frightened.
Yun Heng’s brow creased faintly. She glanced at her own sleeve. This child… was remarkably sharp.
She should have scrubbed every trace away — even Ah Que hadn’t noticed — and yet this child still reacted.
Was there something extraordinary about her divine soul? No — this likely fell outside the bounds of humanity itself. Perhaps she ought to probe this child’s depths.
“Qiwu!”
Just as Wen Qiwu and Yun Heng were about to head back upstairs, an excited voice sounded from the inn’s entrance.
It was a familiar voice. Wen Qiwu turned — and sure enough, it was Gao Fu.
“Getting out here was no easy feat—hss! Qiwu… and this is?” Gao Fu had come bounding over in high spirits, only for an indescribable chill to hook around her ankle, freezing her foot so thoroughly she could barely lift it.
When she’d first walked in, her eyes had held little but Wen Qiwu. Only now did she notice the cold beauty standing at Wen Qiwu’s side — a woman whose bearing looked strikingly like Yu Hengwei’s. Ever since leaving the Endless Tree Sea, Gao Fu had been unable to reach Yu Hengwei, and the transaction had never been settled — until not long ago, when the woman suddenly contacted her, saying she’d found the person she’d been searching for, and the transaction could be considered closed.
Gao Fu, who felt she’d received help for nothing, had been rather embarrassed about it. She’d planned to offer compensation some other way — immortal stones, cultivation manuals, that sort of thing — but the woman never responded again, and Gao Fu had no idea where she’d even send such things.
For a moment she’d actually thought she was looking at Yu Hengwei. A closer look said otherwise.
Wen Qiwu gave her shijie a teasing glance, then quietly tugged her sleeve — stop scaring her — before making the introductions. “Ah Fu, this is my shijie.”
Yun Heng’s gaze slid over, and Gao Fu grew so inexplicably nervous she didn’t know where to put her hands and feet, greeting Yun Heng over and over.
So this was the patient Qiwu had mentioned — her shijie.
Yun Heng gave the barest, most grudging of nods, which counted as a greeting — though the frost congealing between her brows left the back of Gao Fu’s neck distinctly chilled.
Hadn’t she said Longshi City was swamped? How did this Gao Clan junior have time to come running out here?
“Ah Fu, didn’t you say you were terribly busy? What brings you to Jiaoyue City?” Wen Qiwu asked.
“Because our Old Ancestor came out of seclusion! All the big affairs of the Grand Ceremony have been handed over to our Old Ancestor, so my workload shrank — otherwise I might not have had a single chance to come find you through this entire festival!” Gao Fu patted her chest in relief.
This year had been unusually chaotic, the city restless, with forces from all sides seeping in — and this was only the start of the ceremony. Gao Fu had been run off her feet with no time to seek out Wen Qiwu. Thank heavens the Old Ancestor had emerged from seclusion in time to take over all the troublesome matters, giving her a chance to breathe.
Yun Heng’s face remained ice-cold. She stepped forward half a pace and took her shimei’s hand.
The Gao Clan ancestor?
Tch. Of all the times to come out of seclusion.
Footnotes
- 三魂七魄 | san hun qi po | The Daoist anatomy of the human soul: three hun souls tied to ethereal, heavenly essence, and seven po souls tied to corporeal, bodily instinct. Together they make up a complete living spirit; 'scaring the three hun and seven po out of someone' is a stock Chinese expression for extreme fright.
- 鱼跃龙门 | yu yue long men | Literally 'the fish leaps the Dragon Gate' — a classical Chinese legend in which any carp that fights its way up the Longmen waterfall on the Yellow River and leaps through the gate transforms into a dragon; a traditional metaphor for a momentous breakthrough, such as passing the imperial examinations.
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