My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 36
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
Why Is It So Hard to Make You Care About Me…
The Mingyue Banquet began. The candle flames on the tables flickered softly with moonlight, and the entire Lake-Heart Pavilion was veiled in a wash of silver radiance.
The guests all froze for a moment—some gazing at the graceful silhouettes dancing beyond the pavilion, others looking toward the beauty’s couch, where an immortal reclined at a languid angle, radiating countless charms.
When someone came back to their senses, they hurriedly rose and bowed toward the immortal at the head seat.
“Greetings, Villa Master Yin!”
Before his voice had even faded, the rest rose to follow suit.
Qi Zhi saw that Mu Qingshi had also risen, and not daring to remain seated, she followed the others in bending respectfully toward the villa master.
“Why stand on ceremony, everyone? On such a fine evening with such splendid scenery, without all of you honoring me with your presence, this Mingyue Banquet would be entirely meaningless.”
Yinsha finished speaking, and the guests took their seats.
Qi Zhi looked down at the glass bowl that had just been set before her.
The bowl’s base was mounded with crushed ice, freezing tiny clusters of golden osmanthus. Above the osmanthus lay a layer of lotus root slices, so thin they were nearly transparent, glimmering with a faint light. The crushed ice sent up cold wisps of mist that played across the glass, conjuring an illusion of a moon—now visible, now hidden, waxing and waning, endlessly breaking through the clouds.
Someone asked, “Is this Liuli Yingyue, then?”
Another chimed in excitedly, “I’ve heard that this Liuli Yingyue is made with immortal lotus root imbued with celestial power. Eating it cools the divine consciousness, briefly opens the spiritual apertures, and lets one glimpse the spiritual energy of heaven and earth!”
Qi Zhi glanced at Mu Qingshi, saw her silently eat a slice, and so picked up her own chopsticks and slipped a piece into her mouth.
The thin lotus root slice carried a hint of osmanthus’s delicate fragrance—cool, crisp, and tender. The moment it touched her tongue, a thread of spiritual power seemed to flow into her divine soul, sending a tremor through her spiritual sense, then unfurling in her chest as silken threads of coolness before quietly dissipating without a trace.
—How strange. But how comfortable.
Qi Zhi couldn’t help eating two more slices.
She hadn’t eaten much of the first course before the second was brought out.
In the jade platter stood a white radish carved into the shape of a jade rabbit at a mortar, osmanthus blossoms tucked above its ears. The mortar and pestle were sculpted from dark rice cake, every detail vividly lifelike. The mortar held a small dollop of shaved ice soaked in osmanthus jam, mixed with a bit of snow-white minced meat. A tiny jade spoon rested at the rim.
Someone else remarked that this was Yutu Daoyao1, said to nourish one’s spiritual energy—though, of course, mortals had no notion of what “spiritual energy” meant, only that it must be something very fine.
Qi Zhi glanced at Mu Qingshi again, saw her eat it, and tried a curious bite as well.
The meat was soft and fragrant, sweet without being cloying. A pity there was so little—she’d finished it in three bites.
The third course was called Yueluo Xianhe. It took the most tender cuts of a jade lake spirit fish, sliced and fried to a crisp golden hue, arranged in the shape of a lotus blossom, with lotus leaves as a backdrop. Spiritual light shimmered within the dish as well, casting the shadow of a full moon and scattering a wash of moonlight.
It was said to… have some effect of gently nourishing the spiritual veins?
Qi Zhi glanced at Mu Qingshi yet again, saw her still eating with calm composure, and felt thoroughly reassured.
After that, the emptied plates were cleared and several more courses arrived in succession. Qi Zhi stopped watching Mu Qingshi and simply picked up her chopsticks and ate.
Each dish was exquisitely presented, yet the portions were pitifully small. Even course after course, they never left one too full to continue.
Amid this grand banquet, some marveled at the delicacies, some enjoyed the songs and dances, and others conversed loudly over the table.
When the night deepened, the full moon hung overhead. No one knew how many pieces the musicians had played; the last course had already been served.
Yinsha’s gaze swept across the guests, each harboring their own designs. After a long moment, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
She clapped her hands softly, and two jade cups were delivered to every table.
Whatever schemes they might harbor, every guest’s eyes lit up at this moment.
Each jade cup held a small measure of wine. Spiritual light flowed between them—one cup limpid as the moon, the other radiant as blossoms.
“This wine—one is Shuiyue, the other is Jinghua!” A guest who had clearly been here before suddenly stood up, eyes bright with excitement. “If drunk separately, each can be called a fine wine, but neither is truly a celestial brew. Yet when the two blend together and a lunar halo rises in the cup, this Shuiyue and Jinghua2 becomes a celestial wine—Yinmeng.”
“Drink this wine, and you enter a lucid dream of your own making. In the dream, all sorrows and fears will fade away, and every regret in your heart will cease to exist—as if being born anew!” He finished with a deep bow to Yinsha. “Many thanks to Villa Master Yin for bestowing such celestial wine upon us mortals!”
At these words, the entire company rose to thank the immortal for the gift of wine.
Yinsha smiled without speaking, only watching quietly as the guests one by one blended Shuiyue and Jinghua into a single cup and drained them without hesitation.
Qi Zhi watched the lunar halo gradually rising in her cup—part curious, part hesitant. She looked at Mu Qingshi, then at Ling Qiansu.
The former gave her a quiet glance and drank the blended wine with a faint smile.
The latter’s expression was grave, as if not daring to drink so casually—but seeing Mu Qingshi drink with such effortless ease, she tilted her head back and downed it in one gulp.
—Whatever!
Her shijie had said she’d wake her if she got too drunk, anyway!
Qi Zhi drew a long breath, lifted the jade cup, and took a sip to taste it. Finding it fragrant and mellow, she drank it down to the last drop.
The next moment, she felt her entire body go buoyant, so light she seemed about to take flight—her awareness, still sharp a moment ago, fraying bit by bit into a blur.
Beyond the Lake-Heart Pavilion, the dancers’ silhouettes vanished, and the music ceased. The Mingyue Banquet dispersed. Servants holding lotus lanterns poled small boats through the night mist, ferrying the half-drunk, half-waking guests back to their respective lodgings.
Qi Zhi crouched at the boat’s edge, her consciousness hazy, her fingertips skimming the lotus blossoms one moment and breaking the lake’s surface the next. The lotus buds, not yet open, bared their stamens to her. Fish in the lake rose to the surface glimmering with spiritual light, circling her fingertips, their translucent tails rippling the water into layered waves under the moonlight.
After disembarking, she stumbled all the way back, with no idea how she’d reached her room. The moment her hands found the edge of the bed, she seized the quilt with practiced ease, buried her face, and fell fast asleep.
In her daze, it seemed someone pulled the quilt up over her.
Qi Zhi gave a drowsy murmur, a thought flashing through her mind. After a moment of silence, she rolled toward the wall and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
Before drinking the Yinmeng, Qi Zhi had wondered countless times what kind of dream she would have.
Just as Ah Yun had said, many people in the world don’t truly know what they want.
The moment her consciousness fully cleared, Qi Zhi found herself back on Mount Qiongju, gazing at familiar faces—some she loathed, others she felt nothing toward.
She frowned, instinctively wanting to flee.
But the next second, those faces turned utterly blurry, and after a brief haze, came back into focus, bit by bit.
All the loathing, all the fear, vanished with that shift, dispersing without a trace.
It was as if something had been quietly set down.
She stood at the foot of the Immortal Terrace, gazing up as the Daoist Venerable poured a strand of spiritual light over her. That was the immortal seal decreeing her admission into the sect.
Her spiritual root was extraordinary, her talent peerless. She hadn’t been in the sect for even a century before she was on the verge of surpassing all her shixiong and shijie. Whenever anyone approached her, their faces were all smiles.
Five hundred years—not so short, but not so long either. In the dream, it was no more than the flicker of a shadow.
At her Coming of Age Ceremony, Qi Zhi received countless heavenly treasures and earthly rarities. Her Master granted her leave to travel down the mountain, his eyes brimming with admiration as he looked at her.
All was peaceful beyond the mountain—no demon plagues, no evil spirits, and no end of good food and amusements. She seemed to do nothing but eat, drink, and play, yet somehow felt a breakthrough imminent without any real effort.
To help her smoothly reach the Heavenly Tribulation Realm, the Daoist Venerable specially opened the sect’s secret realm for her alone.
The secret realm was rumored to be exceptionally perilous, so she stayed on guard—only to find a barren wasteland within. She stood stunned for a moment, then simply waved her sleeve, and all things sprang to life, transforming the wasteland into an endless green field. Upon that green field rose verdant hills and flowing waters, and among the countless trees and plants, flowers bloomed across the land.
The Heavenly Lightning Tribulation arrived with dark thunderheads in tow, and at her fingertips, it too dissolved into a gentle breeze and fine drizzle.
She conjured an Immortal Landscape Creation within Mount Qiongju.
It was a villa upon a jade lake, warm as eternal spring, untouched by winter’s cold or summer’s heat—a retreat everyone in the Tiandao Sect loved to steal away to.
When night fell, a thin mist would rise, and the full moon shone without ceasing.
Her favorite thing was to hold a lovely lotus lantern, sit by the lake, and playfully coax open one by one the water lilies that had just closed for the night.
She knew this was only a dream.
So from time to time, she couldn’t help but marvel at how small her world truly was.
So small that even in a lucid dream where she could command all of creation, all she knew was eating, sleeping, and idling among flowers and grass. So small that even when she wanted a home of her own, she could only model it after Mingyue Villa’s likeness.
Qi Zhi gazed at the scene before her and grew curious—was this truly all she wanted?
The dream held no sorrow or anger. No anxiety, no worry, ever.
But perhaps because of this, every emotion seemed veiled in a thin mist—even happiness was only faint.
Qi Zhi couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still missing from this dream.
In a daze, a wind swept past, carrying a flurry of fallen osmanthus from somewhere unknown. Qi Zhi lifted her gaze to the sky filled with a rain of petals.
Something brushed lightly against her divine consciousness.
A shadow fell. Someone stood holding an umbrella, shielding her from the petals scattering in the wind.
She turned and looked up, and in her eyes, at last, bloomed a joy that was no longer merely faint.
“Shijie!” Qi Zhi called softly, her voice sweet. The one holding the umbrella smiled, her beautiful eyes curving with it.
A bird with a white head and grey back flew past them, alighting on a lotus leaf, swaying gently with it.
—This was how it should be.
What she wanted was for herself to be well, and for everyone else to be well too. Her Master wasn’t a villain. There were no villains beyond the mountain.
As long as the Tiandao Sect endured, Mu Qingshi would forever remain her beloved Second Senior Sister.
…
In the guest room, candlelight flickered softly.
Mu Qingshi’s fingertip came to rest lightly on the space between Qi Zhi’s brows, flickering with spiritual light.
After a long moment, she withdrew the spiritual power from her fingertip. The corners of her eyes turned faintly red.
A sudden, self-mocking laugh rose from the depths of her heart.
Mu Qingshi, you truly are pathetic. You knew full well she was terrified of you, that even in her dream she couldn’t wait to erase your very existence—yet you still had to force your way in…
You saw her dream bursting with countless blossoms—but which of those flowers bloomed for you?
“Shimei…”
Mu Qingshi gazed down at the still-sleeping girl.
“Why is it so hard to make you care about me…”
Her voice was like a sigh, so low it was barely audible.
The author has something to say:
Qi Zhi: Shijie, shijie! I dreamed about you!
Mu Qingshi: I was the one who forced it.
The truth was, Little Grass still cared about her shijie. It was just that she kept worrying about the boat capsizing, and those related memories were swept away indiscriminately by the Yinmeng wine—good and bad alike. If her shijie hadn’t intervened, in a little while, she would have been able to see her true self.
Footnotes
- 玉兔捣药 | Yutu Daoyao | 'Jade Rabbit Pounding Medicine'—a motif from Chinese folklore in which the Jade Rabbit residing on the moon pounds the elixir of immortality. A beloved symbol of the Mid-Autumn Festival, here it names a banquet dish sculpted to resemble the rabbit at its mortar.
- 水月镜花 | Shuiyue Jinghua | A classical Chinese idiom meaning 'water moon and mirror flower'—beautiful but illusory, unattainable as a moon reflected in water or blossoms seen in glass. Here it names the paired wines whose union creates the dream-inducing celestial brew.
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