My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 33
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
She Seems Kind of Useless Now.
Ah Yun was smiling, but her words sent an involuntary shiver through Qi Zhi.
Could they really not worry?
The Master of Mount Han’s most cherished Direct Disciple had died in the mortal realm, and no one even knew.
She didn’t dare imagine what kind of cultivation the killer must have possessed to make someone who could rival the Mu Qingshi of old vanish so silently.
Wasn’t facing a killer like that even more terrifying?
Qi Zhi kept her head down and was afraid for a while.
But after being afraid for a while, she once again managed to convince herself.
Ah Yun said not to worry, so what was she even worrying about?
Mu Qingshi could annihilate the entire Tiandao Sect—could she not take down a mere Mingyue Villa? Wasn’t the one who should truly be worried the Villa Master herself?
She really was worrying over nothing1!
At this thought, Qi Zhi sighed softly, shook her head, and tossed all her worries aside.
The peanuts in her hand were peeled, and she popped them straight into her own mouth.
Ah Yun pouted, resting her chin in both hands, and muttered under her breath: “I told you the whole story, and you won’t even peel peanuts for me anymore.”
Qi Zhi answered absently: “I’m worried you’ll get overheated2.”
The next second, she heard Ah Yun sigh dramatically, slump lifelessly onto the table, and start rattling off words from her little mouth like beans from a jar.
“Crossing the river and burning the bridge, killing the donkey after the grinding’s done, forgetting the trap once the fish is caught3, storing the bow once the birds are gone…”
“Ah Yun…”
“Failing to repay kindness, breaking faith and forsaking honor, cooking the hound once the rabbits are—”
Before Ah Yun could finish, a peeled peanut appeared at her lips.
She reached out and took it, her curved brows lifting into a smile. “That’s more like it!”
“I’m really scared of you!” Qi Zhi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s just peeling peanuts, but the way you put it, you’d think I’d committed some grave crime.”
Ah Yun giggled and poured Qi Zhi a cup of tea, then poured one for herself.
When Mu Qingshi returned to the room, she found Qi Zhi diligently peeling peanuts, placing each one into the small dish in front of Ah Yun.
Ah Yun picked peanuts from the dish while chattering away at Qi Zhi about something or other.
The moment she saw Mu Qingshi push the door open, she quickly shoved the little dish toward Qi Zhi, cleared her throat, and shot frantic meaningful glances with her eyes.
Qi Zhi caught on instantly. She grabbed two peanuts from the dish and obediently popped them into her own mouth.
Ah Yun seemed a little worried that bossing her around might upset Mu Qingshi—even if it was a mutually willing transaction.
Sometimes Qi Zhi felt a bit dazed.
All along, Mu Qingshi’s care for her had never seemed like something that could be faked.
Because of that care, even a man-eating ferocious beast like Ah Yun had to be polite and respectful toward her.
Qi Zhi was even a little curious—if, right at this moment, she pitifully told Mu Qingshi that Ah Yun was forcing her to peel peanuts and would throw a tantrum otherwise—would Ah Yun get a stern lecture from a frowning Mu Qingshi?
Of course, curious as she was, Qi Zhi wouldn’t dare do such a thing.
After all, Ah Yun was quite easy to get along with. As long as you helped peel some peanuts and sunflower seeds, that little mouth of hers would chatter away and spill all sorts of information. She couldn’t suck up to her fast enough—why go out of her way to offend her?
But even though Qi Zhi had sincerely helped cover for her, Mu Qingshi still saw through everything at a glance.
She walked slowly to the table and ruffled Ah Yun’s head.
Ah Yun wilted with guilt under the ruffling, her small face sinking lower and lower by degrees.
Qi Zhi held back her laughter, quickly poured another cup of tea, and offered it to Mu Qingshi. “shijie, Miss Ling has already left. When are we heading to Mingyue Villa?”
Mu Qingshi took the teacup, released Ah Yun, and sat down with a faint smile. “How about tomorrow?”
Qi Zhi: “Sounds good!”
Mu Qingshi gently swirled the tea in her hand, took a long moment, then sipped and said lightly: “Has Ah Yun already told you about the situation inside the villa?”
Qi Zhi glanced at Ah Yun instinctively, unsure how to answer.
Ah Yun’s head shot up. “I did! There’s a killer in the villa!”
She said this with the eager excitement of someone itching to take the culprit down.
Those who knew she was a man-eating ferocious beast—not much better than a killer herself—would find this amusing. Those who didn’t would think she was some righteous champion radiating the light of the righteous path from every pore.
Mu Qingshi: “Anything else?”
Ah Yun: “The person Ling Qiansu mentioned is already long dead!”
Mu Qingshi: “Anything more?”
Ah Yun: “Nope!”
Mu Qingshi gave a slight nod, set down her teacup, and said softly: “The master of Mingyue Villa is named Yinsha. That ear-rabbit that delivers the tokens stays by her side year-round—it should be her spiritual pet.”
“Mm!” Qi Zhi listened attentively.
“The Mingyue Banquet is really nothing special. There’s just a wine called Yinmeng. If you truly enjoy drinking it, you can have as much as you like—no one will stop you.”
“It’s free!” Ah Yun chimed in from the side.
“Yinmeng?” Qi Zhi couldn’t help being curious.
“I’ve heard that anyone who drinks this wine will enter a lucid dream.” Mu Qingshi looked into her eyes as she spoke. “Everything you see and feel in the dream comes from your deepest desires.”
Qi Zhi: “I don’t quite understand.”
Ah Yun provided a blunt translation: “Basically, whoever drinks this wine gets everything they want in their dream!”
Qi Zhi’s eyes went wide. “Then isn’t this wine dangerous?!”
Mu Qingshi: “If you don’t drink it, you can’t leave the banquet.”
Qi Zhi: “Then what do we do?”
Seeing her alarm, Mu Qingshi chuckled. “What’s there to be afraid of? It’s just wine. A cup or two won’t steal your soul.”
Qi Zhi: “But all those people who attended the banquet and lost their souls—wasn’t it because of this wine?”
Mu Qingshi: “It was because of desire.”
Qi Zhi: “…” Was there a difference?
“The rabbit delivers the tokens, yet the banquet doesn’t open until half a month later.” Mu Qingshi smiled faintly. “What are those fifteen days waiting for?”
Tokens delivered, yet another half-month wait…
“It’s leaving time for people to fight over them!” Qi Zhi realized.
Each Mingyue Banquet only ever had ten Mingyue Tokens, and so many people wanted to attend—scrambling and strife were inevitable.
No matter what methods they used, those who ultimately managed to secure a token and enter the mountain wouldn’t have shallow desires.
The deeper their desires, the easier it was to drown in a near-perfect illusion.
If the wine kept being poured, cup after cup, dream and reality would become impossible to tell apart.
Qi Zhi: “But what does she keep so many people at the villa for?”
Mu Qingshi: “Only she knows that.”
Qi Zhi couldn’t help but cradle her teacup, gazing at the gently swaying tea within, and fell into thought.
In her reverie, Mu Qingshi’s voice drifted beside her.
“A wine like that—don’t you want to taste it?”
“Ah…”
“If you do, then taste it freely when the time comes.” Mu Qingshi looked at Qi Zhi, warmth and amusement in her eyes, her tone indulgent. “If you sink too deep, I’ll wake you.”
Qi Zhi blinked, curved her lips in a smile, and nodded.
If she were honest with herself—if there truly existed a beautiful dream where she could have everything, even knowing it was false, who wouldn’t want to step inside and take a look?
As for everything else, no matter how much she worried, she couldn’t help anyway. Better to duck into a dream and get some rest. Maybe when she opened her eyes again, all those troublesome matters would already have been sorted out by Mu Qingshi!
Ah Yun: “Can I drink it too?”
Mu Qingshi laughed softly. “If you can get your hands on it, I won’t stop you.”
Ah Yun: “I’ll definitely find a way!”
Qi Zhi asked curiously: “Then what would Ah Yun’s dream have in it?”
Ah Yun: “Who knows?”
Qi Zhi: “Isn’t it supposed to be your deepest desire? How could you not know?”
“You talk as if you know what you’d dream about.” Ah Yun spread her hands and shook her head. “How many people in this world actually know what they truly want?”
Qi Zhi was taken aback. She thought about it carefully and realized she genuinely didn’t know what would appear in her dream if she entered one.
Though she guessed it would probably be lots of delicious food and fun things.
Thinking this, Qi Zhi felt a bit more curious and expectant.
After nightfall, she did as usual—climbed into bed, pressed against the wall, and slept soundly.
The next morning when she woke, Qi Zhi had a simple bowl of noodle soup. She had just sat down at the vanity mirror when the comb was taken from her hand by Mu Qingshi.
“Let me.” Mu Qingshi said, gently undoing the half-loosened bun.
“Thank you, shijie!” Qi Zhi smiled, straightened her posture, and placed her hands neatly on her lap.
She watched in the mirror as a faint, warm smile softened Mu Qingshi’s beautiful eyes, and a small ripple of joy stirred in her own heart.
It was truly strange. Her reason told her that Mu Qingshi was a very dangerous presence.
But within seconds of feeling afraid, she would instinctively want to cling to her, to trust her.
She thought she really was nothing but a limp blade of grass atop a wall.
Whichever way the wind blew, that way she’d lean.
And Mu Qingshi was a gale far too strong—she couldn’t keep her footing at all. Even if following this wind meant walking a single road to its darkest end, she seemed to have no choice but to accept it.
Because she seemed kind of useless now.
She didn’t feel like walking anymore, didn’t feel like doing any work—just eating and sleeping every day. Everyone she met along the way treated her with courtesy and respect, so much so that she could barely stomach being wronged anymore.
If she left Mu Qingshi’s side, there would never again be anyone who could make her days this comfortable.
Qi Zhi had every right to suspect this was Mu Qingshi’s scheme.
Raise her into a Little Useless Grass, and she could be kept close at all times. Whatever plans lay waiting to be carried out, there’d be no need to worry about her running away again.
Qi Zhi hadn’t thought long before her hair was done.
She examined it in the mirror for a while, conjured a few tiny flowers into her hair, rummaged through her Qiankun Bag, drew the bed curtain, and changed into clean clothes.
Finally, she hung the curtain back, slipped on her shoes, picked up her little Hand Warmer, and padded softly to the table, standing obediently at Mu Qingshi’s side.
“Let’s go.” Mu Qingshi said, rising and heading for the door.
Qi Zhi hurried after her and caught hold of her sleeve.
The Liang family had long since prepared a carriage. It carried them out of the city and up that barren mountain.
A path wound upward through the mountain, wide enough for a cart. A clear stream ran alongside it, guiding the way like an immortal pointing the road, winding ever higher.
The spiritual runes on the Mingyue Token grew brighter and brighter.
Qi Zhi pushed open the carriage window and spotted, in the distance, a mountain villa with white walls and black tiles.
Outside the villa, a layer of clean, gentle spiritual light enveloped it. Sunlight fell upon it like mist, like illusion.
As the carriage drew closer, a small bird with a white head and grey back suddenly chirped and darted past the window, flapping its wings over the high walls and landing steadily on a rooftop.
Qi Zhi’s heart stirred. She set the Mingyue Token beside her, concealed it under her dress, then surreptitiously nudged it a little farther away.
She looked out the window again—and the mountain villa had vanished.
After a silent moment, she casually picked the jade token back up.
In her heart, she had confirmed something.
The author has something to say:
Qi Zhi: 🥺 Ah Yun can see it, so shijie definitely can too. I’m the only Little Useless Grass who needs a ticket.
Ling Qiansu: Achoo! 🫠🫠
Footnotes
- 咸吃萝卜淡操心 | xian chi luobo dan cao xin | A northern Chinese colloquialism literally 'eating salty radishes but worrying about plain ones,' mocking someone who frets over matters entirely unrelated to themselves.
- 上火 | shang huo | A traditional Chinese medicine concept describing internal 'heat' caused by excessive rich, fried, or spicy foods, leading to sore throat, mouth ulcers, and irritability; commonly invoked in daily speech to caution against overindulgence.
- 得鱼忘筌 | de yu wang quan | From the philosopher Zhuangzi: literally 'forgetting the fish-trap once the fish is caught,' a classical allusion for discarding the means or allies who helped you succeed after achieving your goal.
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