My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 24
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
If She Weren’t the World-Destroying Demon…
Qi Zhi took a long, deep breath and buried herself under the quilt for a long time.
She only crawled out after the sounds from the next room that set one’s imagination running had long since stopped, staring blankly into the pitch-black room.
The night was clearly already quiet, yet Qi Zhi still could not sleep.
After turning it over in her mind, she decided the reason she could not sleep was that she had not yet applied ointment for Mu-shijie today.
She was simply too responsible—leaving undone what ought to be done made her thoroughly uneasy.
So Qi Zhi climbed out of bed, smoothed her tangled hair, and carefully pulled open the guest room door.
The door was extremely old; no matter how gently she moved, it still let out a creaking groan that fell harshly upon the silent night.
Qi Zhi could not help but frown with a guilty conscience, tilting her head to glance toward the next room.
Seeing that the lamp was still lit in Mu Qingshi’s room, she took a slow, deep breath, tiptoed forward, and knocked on the door.
“shijie, I haven’t applied your ointment today,” Qi Zhi said softly.
“Come in.”
The old wooden door creaked and opened a crack.
Qi Zhi gave it a gentle push, stepped inside, and turned to ease the door shut.
This remote roadside inn was far too shabby. Even with her movements as light as could be, it still produced a chorus of sounds.
Making such a ruckus in the dead of night left Qi Zhi so embarrassed she dared not lift her head.
She could only console herself inwardly—the place was desolate, and apart from Ah Yun, there were no other guests tonight. Even if there was some commotion, it would not disturb too many people.
With that thought, she exhaled, sheepishly raised her eyes, and looked into the room.
Mu Qingshi had just finished bathing not long ago. She sat sideways at the table, her silk-like ink-black hair still damp, draped over her shoulders and soaking through her thin garments.
A single candle on the table illuminated her fair skin in a hazy glow, lending it a faint flush, like warm jade.
Qi Zhi stared, entranced, and only after a long moment remembered what she had come to do. She quickly averted her gaze, fished the medicine bottle from her Qiankun Bag, and hurried behind Mu Qingshi.
Mu Qingshi cooperated as always, loosening her collar to expose the wound.
Qi Zhi leaned down to examine it by the candle’s faint light.
The wound that had still been struggling to clot two days ago was now covered with a thick scab. It seemed there was no longer any need to continue applying ointment.
Qi Zhi straightened up and looked at the medicine bottle in her hand, falling silent.
Mu Qingshi turned her face and raised her eyes to Qi Zhi. “What is it?”
“The wound has already scabbed over. Applying more ointment might cause the scab to come off prematurely and affect proper healing—it would be more likely to leave a scar,” Qi Zhi said. She lowered her gaze and tucked the bottle away, gently adjusting Mu Qingshi’s collar as she murmured, “shijie’s wound really does heal both slowly and quickly…”
She had no proof, but she had every right to suspect that even the speed of this wound’s recovery was something Mu Qingshi could control.
Come to think of it—the fact that she dared to bathe already meant the injury was nothing serious.
She had made this trip for nothing.
Mu Qingshi gathered her collar and gazed at Qi Zhi without looking away. Seeing that she seemed to have guessed something, the amusement in her eyes deepened. Yet she deliberately sighed and put on a regretful expression.
“If the wound no longer needs ointment, does that mean shimei will be too lazy to come see me?”
“…”
“If only it could heal a little more slowly.”
“…Why would shijie say that? Of course wounds should heal as quickly as possible!”
Qi Zhi suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. She glanced away evasively, spotted a cloth towel hanging on the washstand, and hurried over to fetch it, eager to change the subject.
“It’s so late, and shijie’s hair is still wet—you can’t go to sleep like this…” She began to gently wipe through Mu Qingshi’s hair with the towel.
Mu Qingshi did not stop her. She only turned to look at the candle on the table, her eyes brimming with amusement. “shimei doesn’t seem sleepy, though.”
Qi Zhi said quietly, “The road was boring—I kept dozing off and waking up. Now that it’s actually time to sleep, I don’t feel the least bit drowsy.”
She brought over a stool, sat down behind Mu Qingshi, and carefully dried that damp hair.
The silky wet strands, carrying a hint of coolness, slipped through her fingertips again and again.
Qi Zhi could not resist a playful impulse. While Mu Qingshi wasn’t paying attention, she secretly braided a tiny section at the ends, then combed it apart with her fingertips.
She dried for a long while, until both sides of the cloth towel were soaked through, then returned to her own room to fetch a dry one.
Only when Mu Qingshi’s long hair was dried to a barely damp sheen—ready for sleep before long—did Qi Zhi feel at ease. She rubbed her cold fingers and happily returned to her own room.
Back in her room, Qi Zhi still could not sleep, but she dared not toss and turn on the wretched little bed that squeaked at the slightest movement. She could only close her eyes and silently count sheep in her mind.
Counting and counting, she finally drifted into dreams.
The next morning, Qi Zhi rubbed her eyes, went downstairs for a bowl of noodle soup, and climbed back into the carriage to set out on another day’s journey.
The carriage jolted and swayed; sleeping on the road was restless, and yet it was terribly dull.
Qi Zhi sat in the carriage, bored out of her mind, but did not quite dare to talk to Mu Qingshi, afraid she might accidentally complain about something, which Mu Qingshi would file away and later unleash a storm of blood.
After much deliberation, she scooted to the carriage door, lifted the curtain, and struck up a conversation with Ah Yun, who was driving outside.
Ah Yun, sitting all alone outside, was also bored, and naturally delighted to have someone willing to chat.
But even with Ah Yun, Qi Zhi only dared to talk about food and drink, not daring to mention any other people or matters.
Ah Yun had clearly been to many places. When it came to food, she was an endless fountain of knowledge—what kind of flavors each region had, what one absolutely had to eat in any given place—she could rattle it all off with ease.
Qi Zhi listened until her mouth watered. She couldn’t help tugging at Ah Yun’s sleeve and asking if she could take her to try everything someday.
Ah Yun shook her head. Qi Zhi’s smile fell, and she let out a disappointed whimper.
“Asking me is no use,” Ah Yun explained earnestly. “I follow Qingshi. I only go wherever she goes.”
Qi Zhi glanced back at Mu Qingshi without thinking.
Mu Qingshi smiled faintly. “As long as you want to, you can go anywhere in the future.”
“Thank you, shijie!” Qi Zhi’s eyes curved into crescents. Worried that Ah Yun might feel left out, she quickly added, “And thank you, Ah Yun!”
Ah Yun chuckled, clearly quite pleased with the thanks.
Emboldened, Qi Zhi leaned a little further out of the carriage.
“Ah Yun, Ah Yun!”
“What is it?”
Qi Zhi asked earnestly, “The wind is so strong out there—aren’t you cold?”
“You’re joking!” Ah Yun shook her head. “What kind of cultivation do I have? Would I be afraid of a little wind and snow?”
“That’s so nice…” Qi Zhi murmured wistfully. After a pause, she spoke again. “But sitting outside all the time, watching the horse—don’t you find it tiring?”
“I don’t.”
“Are you sure we don’t need to hire a driver?” Qi Zhi said. “You could come sit inside where it’s warm, and it’d be easier for us to chat!”
Ah Yun couldn’t help but glance back at Qi Zhi. From the corner of her eye, she caught Mu Qingshi slowly closing her eyes, and quickly replied, “No need!”
Qi Zhi: “Why not?”
Ah Yun: “The carriage isn’t big. Three people is too cramped; two is just right.”
Qi Zhi: “I think it’d be fine. You could sit next to me and we’d squeeze together, and let shijie have more room.”
“…You have a point.” Ah Yun tapped her toes, her little mind spinning rapidly. “But hiring a driver costs money! You don’t run a household, so you don’t know how dear rice and firewood1 are!”
Qi Zhi’s mouth fell slightly open. It took her a long moment before she managed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Ah Yun reached out at full length and patted Qi Zhi on the head.
Then, with curved eyes and a grin, as though she had gotten away with something terribly mischievous, she giggled to herself.
Qi Zhi turned to look at Mu Qingshi, only to find her eyes already closed, shaking her head with a soft sigh, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips.
What was that supposed to mean…
Ah Yun looked like a girl about her own age. She was certainly far older in actual years, but being patted on the head by someone who appeared to be her peer felt more than a little strange.
Qi Zhi lowered her gaze and sat in silence for a good while, feeling she had somehow gotten the worse end of the deal.
After a moment’s thought, she leaned out, reached over, and gave Ah Yun’s head a light rub, then quickly ducked back inside the carriage. She pressed herself against the window and pretended to admire the scenery outside.
Ah Yun’s head tilted from the rub. She stared back for a moment, then casually pulled the curtain shut.
The road to Mount Han was far longer than Qi Zhi had imagined.
The carriage stopped and started along the way, and even the horses were changed twice over.
Not one of the three travelers was in any hurry. They called it a journey, but in truth they traveled at a leisurely pace.
If they passed a remote inn in the wilderness or a small, sparsely populated village, they would lodge for a single night and set out again at dawn.
If they came upon a larger town, they would rest for a couple of days, eating and drinking their fill, seeing if there was anything fun to do.
In the blink of an eye, winter gave way to spring.
In some places the winter snow had melted; in others, the landscape still lay beneath a blanket of white.
By afternoon, the daylight was at its brightest.
They had not found a place to stop the night before, and the carriage had jolted through the entire night. Qi Zhi had dozed half-awake, half-asleep with her head on Mu Qingshi’s lap, right up until now.
The sound of street vendors calling their wares suddenly reached her ears. She whimpered and sat up, rubbing her eyes.
Her bun had half come undone, loose strands of hair falling over her shoulders. Mu Qingshi conjured a small wooden comb and gently smoothed her hair.
Qi Zhi had grown used to this. She let Mu Qingshi lightly pull through her hair, and after rubbing her eyes, reached over to smooth out the creases her sleeping had pressed into Mu Qingshi’s skirt.
She smoothed for quite a while before finally getting them out, then withdrew her hand and asked softly, “Where are we?”
Before Mu Qingshi could answer, Ah Yun’s voice came from outside the carriage: “Xiaoshan County!”
Qi Zhi asked again, “Is it a prosperous place? It sounds very lively.”
Ah Yun: “Not particularly, but the mortal New Year is coming!”
“The mortal New Year?” Qi Zhi did not understand, raising her eyes to Mu Qingshi.
Mu Qingshi explained to her that the mortal New Year, also called the Spring Festival, fell on the first day of the first lunar month and carried the meaning of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new.
Humans all celebrated the New Year, and not just the New Year—they observed many other festivals as well, most of them lively and bustling.
On Mount Qiongju, the years stretched long and unhurried. To enter the mountain was to leave the mortal world behind, and naturally no one observed those festivals from beyond the mountain.
Qi Zhi did not quite understand what Mu Qingshi was telling her. She sat obediently until her hair was done, then lifted the curtain, pushed open the window, and peered out with eager curiosity.
Several children in red padded cotton jackets chased past the carriage, running toward a vendor selling New Year rice cakes.
Every household had hung red lanterns and pasted up strips of red paper. Even the snowman by the roadside holding a broom wore a red scarf.
Wherever one looked, it was a scene of festive cheer.
Qi Zhi stared with wonder the whole way, until the carriage suddenly stopped in front of a clothing shop.
Ah Yun hopped down from the driver’s seat and turned to lift the carriage curtain. “We’re here!”
Qi Zhi: “This isn’t an inn.”
Mu Qingshi smiled and patted her head. “New year, new clothes. Let’s go in and see if there’s anything you like.”
Qi Zhi tilted her head, looked down at her old skirt that had been washed so many times it was fading to white, and couldn’t help blinking. She climbed out of the carriage, took hold of Mu Qingshi’s sleeve, and followed behind her, timidly stepping into the clothing shop that did not look at all inexpensive.
The garments in the shop were beautiful, and the shopkeeper had a very sweet way with words. Once she determined that the timid young girl was the one in need of new clothes and the strikingly beautiful woman behind her was clearly the one with money, she stayed right at Qi Zhi’s heels, praising her with honeyed words—”Miss this, Miss that”—until Qi Zhi’s face flushed crimson.
When had Qi Zhi ever been complimented on her looks in her entire life? Now, flustered by the shopkeeper’s praise, she found that this outfit looked lovely and that outfit suited her perfectly. Her head spun until she could barely tell up from down.
Qi Zhi’s frame was petite, and most of the clothes did not quite fit. The shopkeeper only smiled and told her not to worry—anything she liked could be altered.
“Two days—just two days, and they’ll all be ready!”
The shopkeeper said this as she led Qi Zhi behind a screen to take her measurements.
And so, a great pile of wrapped garments was carried out and loaded onto the carriage by helpful hands.
When Qi Zhi returned to the carriage, she felt the space had grown crowded with all the packages.
As the curtain fell, she hurriedly took out her Qiankun Bag and stowed the garments away one by one.
Mu Qingshi: “You’re not going to try any of them on?”
Qi Zhi pressed her lips together, clearly shy. “Later… I’ll look at them later.”
These clothes were all so beautiful. Back on Mount Qiongju, she had only ever seen Ninth Senior Sister dress like this. If she wore these herself, would it really not look strange?
Just as she was thinking this, a flash of spiritual light swept past, and one set of clothes she had not yet put away was already on her body.
Qi Zhi froze for a moment, instinctively touching the fabric at her sleeve.
Light and soft—far more comfortable than her old clothes.
“You don’t like it?” Mu Qingshi said softly. “It looks wonderful on you.”
“Is it really not strange?” Qi Zhi asked in a small voice.
“Of course not.” Mu Qingshi smiled and adjusted her collar. “shimei is beautiful. Anything you wear looks good.”
The carriage rolled down the street. Outside, the sounds of the New Year filled the air.
Children played with firecrackers at the corner—crack, crack, crack—making Qi Zhi’s heart jump.
She couldn’t help blushing, lowering her head. In the silence, the corners of her lips curved upward, only to slowly fall as her gaze dimmed.
In all the world, it seemed there was only this one person who would always tell her she deserved everything.
Actually, one person like that was already enough.
How wonderful it would be…
If she had never taken the demonic sword, if she were not the rumored World-Destroying Demon…
How wonderful it would be.
The author has something to say:
Mu Qingshi: 🫠 How much longer is she going to fear me?
Ah Yun: 🍉 Hard to say—her nerves have already grown bold.
0 Comments