My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 27
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
What Does This Mean?
East of the city, a hundred li out, lay a nameless wild mountain with only a shallow stream, its water clear and cold, winding down in a murmuring run.
Where the stream passed, a manor of white walls and black tiles rested quietly against the mountainside, wrapped in a clean, gentle veil of spiritual light that kept it hidden from ordinary eyes.
Afternoon, the sun at its height.
A bird with a white head and grey back alighted soundlessly on a branch of the old pine nearby and cocked its head for a look. After a long moment, a thread of dark red flickered through its eyes. It stamped its claws, turned, and beat its wings away into the distance.
The manor stayed silent, its gate half open.
A snow-white ear-rabbit poked its head out for a glance, hesitated briefly, then—big fluffy tail swaying—retreated back behind the high walls.
Qi Zhi walked along at Mu Qingshi’s side with the pinwheel in one hand and her sugar butterfly held high in the other, smiling as she gushed about that marvelous sugar painting stall.
The scented hand warmer hung from her little finger, trailing a faint fragrance that swayed with her soft green sleeves.
The butterfly in her hand was too lovely—she’d carried it steady the entire way, unable to bring herself to take so much as a nibble.
The moment they returned to the inn, Qi Zhi began peering this way and that.
When she couldn’t find Ah Yun on the ground floor, she ran up to the second floor and knocked twice at Ah Yun’s door—not a sound from within.
Mu Qingshi followed at a leisurely pace. Qi Zhi turned to face her, tilting her rosy little face, and asked curiously, “Where did Ah Yun go? We were only out a little while, and she’s already vanished.”
“Who knows.” Mu Qingshi shook her head slightly, reached out, and smoothed a stray lock of hair behind Qi Zhi’s ear, teasing softly, “She’s just like you—loves wandering off.”
“I do not!” Qi Zhi frowned, defending herself in earnest. “I’ve only gone out on my own two or three times! Most days I just sleep and daydream at the inn, thank you very much!”
Mu Qingshi smiled and asked in turn, “What did you want Ah Yun for?”
“Mm—” Qi Zhi looked down at the butterfly in her hand and said quietly, “I wanted to show Ah Yun too.”
“It’s not as if she’s never seen one,” Mu Qingshi said mildly. “However pretty this sugar figurine is, hold it in front of her and she’ll only spoil the fun.”
Mu Qingshi clearly knew Ah Yun well. Qi Zhi blinked, thought it over, and found this eminently reasonable.
Ah Yun—if you told her you wanted to watch fireworks, she’d say fireworks couldn’t compare to a fingertip of her spiritual power.
If you were curious about praying at the temple, she’d say, “If you’ve got a wish, just tell Qingshi directly.”
And if you actually brought this butterfly over all excited, she’d probably just say: “You bought this thing to stare at instead of eat?”
Come to think of it, quite the way with words on that bird…
“Then I’d better eat it,” Qi Zhi muttered, and bent her head to bite off one of the little butterfly’s antennae.
Rich sweetness melted across her tongue. She narrowed her eyes, instinctively bit off the other antenna, and headed toward her own room.
Before pushing the door open, she couldn’t help glancing back.
Mu Qingshi still stood where she’d been, faint amusement in her eyes, as if seeing her off.
Qi Zhi thought a moment, raised the mangled little butterfly and waved it, head tilted. “Shijie, want a taste?!”
“Sure.” Mu Qingshi came closer, leaned down slightly, and took a small bite along the broken antenna. She savored it, eyes curving. “Thank you, Shimei. Very sweet.”
Then she ruffled Qi Zhi’s hair and coaxed softly, “It’s cold out. Go on in and rest.”
Qi Zhi nodded and slipped into her room.
The charcoal fire burned inside, much warmer than outdoors.
Qi Zhi stuck the paper pinwheel into a flower vase, twiddled it a few times, and blew on it.
Then she sat at the table and finished the little butterfly, savoring the sweetness on her tongue, and climbed back into bed for her daily installment of the back-to-sleep nap.
…
On the main street, people came and went—bustling indeed.
A silver-haired girl with a skewer of tanghulu came skipping along, past the back gate of an enormous compound.
A few seconds later, she backpedaled into view, studied the gate in thought for a moment, took a bite of tanghulu, and casually scattered a wisp of demon qi.
Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and walked away once more.
The | Shangyuanjie | Lantern Festival on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, also called Minor Zheng Yue; celebrated with lanterns, temple fairs, tangyuan, and fireworks.”]Shangyuan Festival1, Minor Zheng Yue—the streets of Sui City were bustling from early morning.
Though today’s temple fair wouldn’t open until the Xu Hour, people still had plenty to do in the daytime.
With a clamor passing by outside her window, Qi Zhi whimpered and burrowed out of her blankets.
Before she could even make herself presentable, she was served the | Yuanxiao | Round glutinous rice balls served in sweet soup for the Lantern Festival; their shape symbolizes reunion and completeness.”]yuanxiao2 Mu Qingshi had brought up for her.
Freshly rolled in the inn’s kitchen that very morning—hot, soft and glutinous, fresh as could be.
Qi Zhi clutched her chopsticks, blowing on each bite as she ate greedily; when the molten filling spilled into the thick sweet soup, she finally picked up the bowl and drank it down to the last drop.
Mu Qingshi sat to one side, watched her drain the soup and let out a burp, and asked with a smile, “Good?”
“Mm!” Qi Zhi nodded. “Did you eat, Shijie?”
“I’ve eaten,” Mu Qingshi said, gently tugging Qi Zhi’s arm.
Qi Zhi obligingly scooted her stool over and sat down before Mu Qingshi, obediently turning her back, facing the distant dressing mirror, letting those slender fingers hook her hair ribbon and gently undo the sleep-tumbled bun.
She’d heard from Ah Yun that on lively days like the Shangyuan Festival, people liked to dress themselves up beautifully before heading to the temple fair.
Mu Qingshi’s buns were always far more intricate than anything Qi Zhi could manage herself, but she didn’t help with the styling every time.
Just last night, Qi Zhi had lain in bed wondering how she ought to broach it and ask Mu-shijie for help today—and here, before she’d said a single word, Mu Qingshi had come of her own accord to do her hair.
The girl’s slightly mussed long hair was combed gently to silkiness, then gathered strand by strand into lovely buns, tied off with two water-green ribbons bought who knows when.
“There,” Mu Qingshi said, rising and stepping to the side, tilting her head to study her with care.
Qi Zhi looked herself over left and right in the far-off mirror. The buns were lovely, but something felt missing.
She turned it over in her mind, stirred a wisp of spiritual power, and conjured a scattering of tiny white flowers amid the buns on either side as adornment. She studied the mirror a while, then looked up at Mu Qingshi and asked quietly, “Like this… does it look all right?”
Mu Qingshi’s eyes curved, and she answered softly, “Shimei looks especially beautiful today.”
Qi Zhi’s cheeks went red. “I need to change clothes!” she muttered, head down, then stood and, still red-faced, gently pushed Mu Qingshi out of the room.
Once the door closed, she ran to the bed alone, released a heap of clothes from her Qiankun Bag, and tried them on one by one before the mirror—a bout of agonizing that lasted over half a shichen.
Dressed at last, she cradled her little hand warmer with its fresh charcoal, blew on the pinwheel in the vase, and happily hurried out and down the stairs.
Ah Yun had new clothes on today too, a white feather pinned in her hair, looking considerably more darling than usual.
She’d sat in the corner of the ground floor for ages; the moment her peripheral vision caught Qi Zhi running down, she bounced up from the table and hailed her out of the inn together.
They’d agreed on it just last night: by day they’d browse the streets and pick out the prettiest lantern, and at night they’d bring it to the temple fair!
In her room, Mu Qingshi pushed open the window and watched the two little figures walk away one after the other, chatting and laughing, until they faded into the distance—and the corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile.
The two came back in the afternoon.
What they brought back, besides three beautiful lanterns, was a warm, soft hazelnut cake.
The moment Qi Zhi returned to the inn, she went thump-thump-thump up to the second floor and delivered the hazelnut cake to Mu Qingshi’s room while it was still hot.
Ah Yun trotted in behind her and opened with: “Somebody smelled it from the road and her legs stopped working! Parked right at the stall and ate two servings back to back, then swore she had to bring some back for you to try too!”
Mu Qingshi laughed despite herself. “Is it really that good?”
“Mm!!” Qi Zhi nodded with all her might.
Ah Yun leaned against the table, arms crossed. “I thought it was just okay. Middling, really.”
Qi Zhi didn’t argue; she only nudged the cake toward Mu Qingshi. “Hurry and try it, Shijie—fragrant and soft!”
Mu Qingshi reached out, tore off a small piece, and tasted it.
Qi Zhi: “Well?”
Mu Qingshi: “Quite good, actually.”
Qi Zhi turned to Ah Yun, eyebrows arching in a grin. “See? I told you shijie would like it!”
“Oh, please.” Ah Yun waved a hand. “You could feed her plain white rice and she’d still say ‘not bad’!”
“It wouldn’t go that far,” Mu Qingshi said mildly.
Ah Yun pursed her lips and set a blue-and-white paper lantern painted with clouds and flowers on the table. “Here. Zhi-zhi picked it for you.”
Mu Qingshi: “Thank you, Shimei. It’s beautiful.”
Qi Zhi smiled and slid her little hand warmer across to Mu Qingshi, eyes shining. “It’s not warm anymore.”
Mu Qingshi laughed at that, and promptly fitted it with new charcoal.
In the blink of an eye it was You Hour, and the sun sank west.
It should have been dinnertime, but Qi Zhi had heard the temple fair would be full of good things to eat, so she’d deliberately saved her stomach. Reckoning that the walk over would take just about the right amount of time, she urged Mu Qingshi and Ah Yun to hurry to the fair with her.
Only, as they walked, the little stomach she’d so deliberately emptied began to whine in protest.
Hearing the sound, Mu Qingshi couldn’t help laughing, took Qi Zhi to eat a bowl of beef noodles at a street stall, and then followed the swelling crowd toward the liveliest part of town.
As night fell, they lit their lanterns and walked into the blazing lights of the temple fair.
Inside the fair, unfamiliar faces in beautiful clothes carried lanterns of every color, weaving past stalls laid out with dazzling arrays of goods.
Everywhere you looked, some people were guessing lantern riddles, some painting lanterns.
The sugar painting stall from the street two days ago had somehow moved here as well, and beside it stood a rival stall competing for business—not sugar painting, but blown sugar figurines.
Quite a few children dressed like the plump babies of | Nianhua | Traditional New Year woodblock prints hung in homes for luck; their rosy-cheeked, chubby babies are icons of festive fortune.”]New Year prints3 clustered there, little lanterns in hand, watching intently.
Street performers lined the roadside—some wielding swords, some brandishing fire, each with their own feats—drawing round after round of cheers from passersby.
Not far off, gongs and drums sounded. Qi Zhi followed the noise and saw a crowd dancing a long dragon lantern, weaving merrily toward the distance amid the throng.
From who knows where, Ah Yun had bought several skewers of fried dough sweets; eating some herself, she handed most of the rest to Mu Qingshi, who passed them on to Qi Zhi.
“Thank you, Shijie! Thank you, Ah Yun!” Qi Zhi said, biting into one and pointing toward the dragon lantern, hurrying after it.
The dragon lantern didn’t dance fast; Qi Zhi soon caught up to the dragon’s tail.
She chased behind it a while before her attention was stolen away by a nearby stall hawking loudly.
The fair had sprouted plenty of temporary stalls, all selling exquisite little trinkets. Back on the mountain, Qi Zhi had only ever seen her shixiong and shijie use such things. Suddenly seeing so many at once, she couldn’t help stopping in her tracks.
Mu Qingshi saw the longing in her eyes, leaned down slightly, and said at her ear, “If you like it, you can buy it.”
Qi Zhi: “They’re not really useful, though…”
They were all little ornaments, nothing of practical use.
Ah Yun: “Pretty is reason enough.”
Qi Zhi thought about it, decided Ah Yun was right, and picked up a small round fan. “I want this one!”
The stallkeeper smiled. “Miss, that one’s eight wen.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when Ah Yun pressed the coins into his hand.
Qi Zhi picked up her little fan and ran off elsewhere; Mu Qingshi hurried after her.
Shopping, it seems, is the sort of thing that once started, is impossible to stop.
Qi Zhi had never had much of a concept of money. Now, little fan in hand, lantern held high, she darted back and forth through the festive crowd—she saw this and wanted it, saw that and wanted to buy it.
Her small hands, chilled faintly red, were soon piled with packages big and small—things to eat, things to play with, all manner of little ornaments.
Ah Yun trailed behind paying the whole way, and helped carry a fair share besides.
Qi Zhi had a wonderful time, and no one rained on her parade, until at last she ran herself tired and the three of them found a quieter spot to sit down and sort through the glorious mess of trinkets.
A light suddenly flashed at the edge of the sky, followed by a thunderous boom that made Qi Zhi shrink her neck.
Quickly she came back to herself and looked up at the horizon.
The hour must have come: fireworks of every color burst magnificently across the night sky, mirrored by the sea of lanterns below, drawing countless gazes upward.
Qi Zhi couldn’t help sighing aloud.
“So beautiful—”
Ah Yun yawned and said nothing, only bent her head to gather the little odds and ends off the ground.
Qi Zhi gazed up for a long while, then suddenly turned to the side, about to say something—and in the flicker of the fireworks, she fell into a pair of eyes soft as water.
She froze for a beat; when she came back to herself, those eyes had already turned to the horizon.
As though that single instant had been her imagination…
—Had Shijie been watching her this whole time?
Qi Zhi: “Shijie?”
Mu Qingshi: “Mm?”
Qi Zhi thought better of asking, too embarrassed, and just lowered her eyes and held out the bag of sugar cakes she’d just bought.
Mu Qingshi took one and slipped it into her mouth with a faint smile.
Ah Yun suddenly rose and stretched, pointing off in some direction at random. “Welp! I’m going to go have a look over there!”
She’d barely turned to leave when someone stepped into her path.
The newcomer had fine, clear features and wore a dress of pale purple, her long hair simply bound behind her with a single silk-flowered purple hairpin.
Long sword in hand, held at her side; spiritual power seemed to flow within the sheath.
Though she blocked Ah Yun’s way, her gaze was fixed intently on Mu Qingshi.
Ah Yun planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “What does this mean?”
At that, the woman apologized, bent to cradle her sword, and bowed to Mu Qingshi—neither servile nor overbearing.
“This humble one is Ling Qiansu, of Guizhen Sect on Mount Baopu, disciple of the Sword Venerable.”
She finished, and raised her eyes. “May this humble one ask, Miss—are you Mu Qingshi of Tiandao Sect?”
The author has something to say:
Qi Zhi: 😱 What’s going on? Someone from Guizhen Sect? Shijie’s been exposed?!
Ah Yun: 😉👌 I was exposed. On purpose.
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