My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World

My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 26

by Little Panda

Questioning the Heart

She Knows, She Remembers.

By the time they finished the hot pot and returned to the inn, Qi Zhi had already flung the stories she’d heard at the teahouse far out of her mind.

All that was left in her head was a sliver of regret.

Lady Yue’s hot pot truly had been delicious — nothing else could compare. A pity she’d never taste it again.

She supposed she must be the only person in this world who would feel wistful over a wicked fox that had very nearly eaten her?

Even if what she mourned was only the food.

On the subject of this regret, Ah Yun turned her head, glanced at Mu Qingshi, and boldly declared, “I never got to try it either! You struck too fast — you should have wrung the secret recipe out of her first.”

Mu Qingshi said nothing, only gazed back at her with a faint smile.

Ah Yun withdrew her gaze and clapped her hands. “But there was nothing for it, really. Under those circumstances, even if we’d asked, she’d hardly have been in the mood to teach.”

With that, she yawned behind her hand and gave Qi Zhi’s shoulder a gentle pat with the other. “It’s fine! The world is vast — there’s always better food to be found somewhere!”

At last she stood, waved a hand, put on a show of being suddenly overcome with drowsiness, and slipped back to her own room — not forgetting, on her way out, to scoop up the plate of melon seeds from the table.

With Ah Yun gone, only Mu Qingshi remained at her side. Qi Zhi’s mind went blank for a moment, and she could only turn to look out the window.

Mu Qingshi cherished her quiet, and ordinarily kept to her own room.

Today was a novelty — she was actually sitting with her on the inn’s ground floor, sipping idle tea, watching the idle affairs of the street below.

Qi Zhi had thought she would be rather nervous. But after sitting opposite her like this for a while, she found her heart quite calm. It was even rather nice, having someone to keep her company — even if all they did was stare blankly out the window.

Across the street, at the gate of the little courtyard, that big snowman had at some point been finished.

Crooked and lopsided — and wearing a red scarf.

“That snowman — two little girls built it,” Qi Zhi said, pointing across the street. “Yesterday when they set the head on, it fell and smashed, and they started throwing snow at each other… I thought they’d given up on it altogether.”

“Do you want to build one?” Mu Qingshi asked her.

“It’s too cold.” Qi Zhi said, hugging her hand warmer tighter.

Mu Qingshi glanced at the little stove in her hands and asked softly, “Is the charcoal nearly burnt out?”

Qi Zhi bent her head to check. “I think it is.”

“I’ll replace it for you.”

Qi Zhi nodded obediently, let go of the hand warmer, and gently pushed it across to Mu Qingshi.

Chin propped in both hands, she watched unblinking as those fair, slender hands took up a pair of tweezers and carefully extracted the old charcoal, burnt to crumbling, set in fresh pieces, spread a layer of incense powder over them, lit it all with spiritual power — and pushed it back to her.

The hand warmer settled into Qi Zhi’s palm, a wisp of light smoke curling up from it, still carrying that faint plum fragrance.

She held it and daydreamed a while, then couldn’t help asking softly, “How is shijie’s wound?”

The days of late had passed in a muddle — half a month and more, gone before she knew it. Only now did it suddenly come back to her: ever since Mu Qingshi’s wound had stopped needing ointment, she hadn’t once checked the injury on her shoulder.

At the question, a touch of warmth seemed to settle into Mu Qingshi’s eyes. “Thank you for your concern, Shimei. It’s nearly healed.”

Qi Zhi nodded, cast her gaze out the window, and casually turned to other things.

Steaming snacks along the street, children romping on the roads, firecrackers snapping and crackling, yesterday’s boisterous lion dance troupe, and the temple fair Ah Yun made sound so terribly fascinating… Everything she had seen and thought over these two days in Xiaoshan County, she told Mu Qingshi — everything except the stories from the teahouse.

By the time she finished, Qi Zhi couldn’t help a yawn, a thin film of mist gathering in her eyes.

Seeing it, Mu Qingshi walked her all the way back to her room. Before leaving, she checked the charcoal brazier there, saw it would burn a good while yet, and quietly pulled the door shut behind her.

After Mu Qingshi left, Qi Zhi burrowed silently under the covers.

She closed her eyes, meaning to sleep soundly — when all sorts of jumbled things suddenly surfaced in her mind.

The Four Spiritual Veins. The Heavenly Realm’s Spiritual Spring. The World-Destroying Tribulation…

The world has… twin moons…

Qi Zhi shook her head, gave the quilt a hard yank, and pulled it clear over her head.

— No more thinking. Sleep!

On the fifth day of their stay in Xiaoshan County, the proprietress who had promised to have all the clothes tailored within two days finally sent the finished garments around to the inn, before the Wu hour at that.

The girl delivering them apologized over and over. Ah Yun took the bundle without much comment and simply paid the remaining balance.

After lunch, the sun stood at its full and the snow melted without a sound.

Ah Yun brought the carriage around from the inn’s back courtyard to the front gate, wheels grinding through snow and slush.

Qi Zhi, hugging her hand warmer, climbed aboard behind Mu Qingshi.

The carriage rolled into motion, leaving this place behind — another long stretch of mountains and roads ahead.

Qi Zhi hung at the window a while, and when she turned back to sit properly, she couldn’t help asking, “Where are we going next?”

“Sui City,” Mu Qingshi said.

“Sui City…”

“It isn’t exactly close, but it’s prosperous enough. If we arrive before the Shangyuan Festival, we can still catch the temple fair.” Mu Qingshi’s lips curved faintly. “Weren’t you quite interested in that?”

Qi Zhi’s eyes lit up, and she nodded, her brows bending.

She had only mentioned it in passing, a few days ago — she’d never imagined Mu Qingshi had actually remembered.

Qi Zhi couldn’t help tilting her head, blinking, studying Mu Qingshi for a long moment.

“What is it?” Mu Qingshi said.

Qi Zhi turned away, shook her head, lowered her eyes — but couldn’t quite suppress the curve of her lips.

A few days ago, she had heard it from Ah Yun: the Shangyuan Festival, also called the Yuanxiao Lantern Festival, was the mortal world’s first great festival after the new year. There were always the customs of viewing lanterns, setting off fireworks, and eating yuanxiao or tangyuan¹ — an exceptionally lively day.

Yuanxiao, tangyuan — she had never seen either.

They were said to be white and sticky, with sweet filling wrapped inside.

They sounded rather good. When the time came, she absolutely had to try them!

Full of anticipation, Qi Zhi swayed along as the carriage stopped and started.

The snow along the way melted without a whisper, and before they knew it, they had traveled a very long way indeed.

Rocking in the carriage day after day — sometimes opening her eyes to daylight, sometimes to darkness — Qi Zhi felt she could hardly keep count of the days anymore.

Every day she hoped they would reach Sui City soon, terrified of missing the lively temple fair.

And as she hoped and hoped, a tall city tower finally rose on the horizon.

Spotting it, Ah Yun suddenly lifted her voice and cried, “We’re here!”

Half-asleep, Qi Zhi snapped awake at the sound, reached up, pushed the curtain and window open, and poked her head out for a look.

Not far off, atop the city gate, hung the two characters for “Sui City” — the strokes vigorous and forceful, imposing at a mere glance.

She was just leaning further out for a better look when Mu Qingshi beside her gently tugged her back into the carriage.

Qi Zhi blinked, blank for an instant, and tilted her head toward Mu Qingshi.

Seeing her hair bun in disarray and her face guilelessly befuddled, Mu Qingshi couldn’t help a laugh, and pinched her cheek. “You’re a mess. Don’t let people see you like this.”

“Oh!” Qi Zhi came back to herself and hurriedly bent her head to straighten her collar. Seeing a small wooden comb appear in Mu Qingshi’s hand as if by magic, she very obligingly scooted closer.

Hair combed and bun redone, Qi Zhi pushed the window open once more and leaned out.

Sui City’s streets were bustling beyond compare — shops everywhere, selling everything imaginable, signboards packed one against the next, dazzling the eye.

The carriage rolled down the long street through air steeped in a complicated, pleasant smell: freshly steamed buns and mantou, flatbread from the roadside stalls, sweet rice wine, and other aromas besides, all mingled together, warm and thick, burrowing straight into the nose.

Peddlers with shoulder poles hawked at the top of their lungs: “Make way, make way!”

Qi Zhi instinctively shrank back into the carriage; the very next second, the pole’s wares whisked past her eyes with a jingling clatter, startling her heart into a jump.

As she caught her breath, a burst of bright, ringing laughter sounded at her ear — several children in thick padded jackets, pinwheels held aloft, came running and laughing past the carriage.

The pinwheels spun fast, papered round in red and green circles.

Qi Zhi watched them run farther and farther, then turned her gaze elsewhere, her eyes bright and glittering, full of light.

Sui City was the most prosperous human city she had seen on this entire journey — along a single street there were several inns. Compared to this place, Qingshi Town, Qingxi Commandery, even Xiaoshan County — none of them were worth a second glance!

Ah Yun drove the carriage to the finest of the inns: rooms large and clean, bed curtains of fine silk, bedding soft as could be — even the charcoal in the brazier was the good kind, with hardly a whiff of smoke.

Qi Zhi marveled for a while, then suddenly remembered something, ran to Mu Qingshi’s room, and asked in a rush of excitement, “Shijie! Did we make it in time for the Shangyuan Festival?”

“We did!” Mu Qingshi looked at her, eyes brimming with smiles, answering with doting indulgence.

“When is it?!”

“Tomorrow.”

Qi Zhi lit up at that and hurriedly pressed further, “Then can I go out and wander around first?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Shijie!” Qi Zhi said, and scampered happily downstairs.

On the way in, she had seen what looked like a stall selling sweets, not far from the inn, with a whole crowd of little children gathered around it.

Following her memory, Qi Zhi found the stall.

On the little pushcart stood sugar paintings of every shape, with a small wooden wheel at its side.

At this moment, only one little girl remained at the stall — seven or eight, by the look of her.

The vendor, smiling all the while, was coaxing the little girl along as he painted with syrup from the big pot at his side onto a smooth stone slab.

Qi Zhi edged closer and tilted her head to watch intently as he swiftly finished a rabbit, stuck it on a bamboo skewer, and handed it to the girl at his side.

The girl took the rabbit, said a milky-voiced “thank you,” gave him the copper coin clutched in her hand, and ran off holding her sugar figure aloft.

Qi Zhi stood to one side, itching to try, yet a little too embarrassed.

The vendor noticed. “Miss, you’ve been watching forever. Don’t you want one?”

“Ah…”

“I can paint anything — one wen for something simple, three for something complicated!” The vendor flicked the wheel at his side. “Or spin this — one wen a turn. Land on the phoenix, and I’ll paint you one all the same!”

“Then I’ll spin!” Qi Zhi said, ducking her head to fish a coin from her Qiankun Bag, and gave the just-settled wheel a hard flick of her finger.

The needle spun for ages before finally coming to rest on a little butterfly.

Qi Zhi hadn’t anything she especially wanted; seeing it land on a butterfly, she couldn’t tell whether that counted as good or bad — she was simply curious what shape it would end up painted into.

The vendor soon finished a butterfly with wings outspread.

A bamboo skewer lifted it from the middle; the amber wings were thin as a shadow, held up in the air, trembling faintly, letting through a wash of daylight.

Qi Zhi took it gladly — and the moment she turned, she collided with a pair of gentle eyes.

The one who had come out looking for her stood not far behind.

An early-spring wind, laced with chill, brushed past her cheek and lifted a hem of her dress.

Mu Qingshi’s eyes curved, and she waved the freshly bought paper pinwheel in her hand at Qi Zhi.

The little girl blinked, dazed for an instant — then her brows lifted in a smile.

Holding up her little butterfly, skirts fluttering, she darted through the crowd and ran to her.

The author has something to say:

Qi Zhi: 🥺 Whatever I want, she knows it — and she remembers it all.

Seeing some little angels² curious about why shijie’s demonic qi seems to come and go — actually, shijie has no demonic qi at all. The demonic qi belongs to the demonic sword; don’t use the sword, and there’s no demonic qi 😜👌

As for whether her spiritual root is really damaged, everyone can guess for now — I’ll keep that suspense to myself a while longer.

Lastly, just me rambling: as a kid, I never once spun the sugar-painting wheel and landed anything big 😭