My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 6
by Little PandaWhen the Spirit Flowers Bloom
Today Is Another Especially Happy Day!
“Shijie1, you have no idea—he was just like, like this…” Qi Zhi tucked one hand behind her back and stretched the other outward, her face scrunched in distaste as she hopped forward a couple steps. “He came flying in stepping on someone else’s shoulders, and the second his feet touched the ground, he started preening like a peacock!”
“‘Ruoyu-shimei2 this, Ruoyu-shimei that! I’ll give you this—it’s a Facing Mirror3, you need a pair for them to form an image.'”
Reaching this point, Qi Zhi ran to the other side, switched positions, cooled her expression, and dropped her voice: “If a pair is required to form an image, then what does shixiong4 mean by giving me only one?”
Finally, she ran back to her original spot, looking embarrassed. “Ah, well, this, um, uh…”
Mu Qingshi watched her, unable to hold back a smile.
Seeing her laugh, Qi Zhi’s complaints grew even louder. “Really! I was embarrassed on his behalf! Sixth Senior Sister didn’t want anything to do with him at all, and he still acted like he was so charming.”
“He only wanted to give one mirror—talk about calculating! But Sixth Senior Sister wasn’t having any of it.” Qi Zhi huffed, hands on her hips. “Then when he felt humiliated, he turned around and took it out on me! He even brought a bunch of people to laugh at me, saying I couldn’t afford to give Sixth Senior Sister any precious gifts…”
“Thankfully, Sixth Senior Sister came to my defense. She asked me to pass on her greetings to you, Shijie, and after that, none of them dared laugh anymore!”
Qi Zhi was enjoying telling the story, and Ah Yun seemed quite happy listening too, flapping its small wings and hopping left and right across the stone table.
Worried that Qi Zhi’s throat might be dry, Mu Qingshi poured her a cup of water, adding a touch of osmanthus jam. The faint sweetness carried through the cup, much like the gentle amusement in her eyes.
Qi Zhi sat down, cradling the cup and taking a couple sips, then suddenly couldn’t help musing, “Those Facing Mirrors sound amazing—can you really see whatever the other mirror reflects, no matter how far apart you are?”
“Mm.”
“Can you hear the sounds from the other side too?”
“You can.”
“That’s so wonderful…” Qi Zhi sighed, downing the rest of her sweet water in big gulps. “Then if someone had a pair, couldn’t they have a sect sibling who can leave the mountain take one half, and help them see the world outside?”
Mu Qingshi said nothing, simply pushing a small dish of freshly shelled peanuts toward her.
“Thank you, Shijie!” Qi Zhi took the dish, her eyes curving into crescents of delight.
Ah Yun tucked its wings back, craning its head up, and chirped twice from the side. Mu Qingshi perfunctorily shelled one peanut for it, then tossed a handful of unshelled ones beside its feet.
Faced with such blatant favoritism, Ah Yun didn’t seem the least bit surprised. It simply tucked its little bottom down, buried its little head, and quietly pecked at the peanuts by its feet.
Qi Zhi’s chatter never paused.
She spoke of how deserted the Seven Halls were today when she delivered the osmanthus jam, of that farewell with no preparations.
She spoke of the Spirit Butterfly that had flown in from Muxue Valley, of the demonic qi and demon calamities in the mortal realm whose sources no one knew.
She spoke of running here after returning the Qiankun Bag5, of how the sky grew darker and darker along the way, and how Ah Yun had lit up the entire mountain path.
As she talked, she glanced up.
The moon, just days from full, had somehow crept high into the sky without her noticing.
It was already so late tonight.
She felt like she still had so many things left unsaid.
“Shijie, I should head back!”
Mu Qingshi rose and gazed into the distance. The mountain night was pitch dark—the path wouldn’t be easy to walk.
She looked at Qi Zhi. “It’s late. Why don’t you leave tomorrow morning instead?”
Qi Zhi blinked, tilting her head. “Is that okay?”
“I’ll prepare a room for you.” Mu Qingshi turned and walked ahead.
Qi Zhi startled, then hurried after her. “Shijie, just tell me which room—I can do it myself!”
Ah Yun turned its head for a glance, tilted it for a moment, then went back to pecking at its peanuts.
Suihan Hall was not small. Qi Zhi followed close behind Mu Qingshi, braving the cold night wind as they passed through a long corridor to a guest room that hadn’t been tended in quite some time.
Qi Zhi felt that staying overnight here was already imposing on her shijie enough; having her shijie clean the room for her too felt a bit much.
So the moment they entered, she rushed in first.
Despite her glancing-around confusion, she couldn’t help spotting work to do—in a single stride, she’d picked up the broom lying in the corner, even in the dark.
But before she could do anything, a thread of spiritual light lit every candle in the room.
In the next instant, where the spiritual light passed, not a speck of dust remained.
Qi Zhi opened her mouth, then silently leaned the broom against the corner wall—as if picking it up had only been to put it somewhere better.
Shijie truly was shijie. Even with a damaged spiritual root, she was this formidable—whatever she did was just a flick of her fingers.
That night, Qi Zhi stayed at Suihan Hall for the first time.
She and Mu Qingshi had put the covers on the soft, warm bedding together. It carried a faint, soothing fragrance—the same scent that lingered on Mu Qingshi.
The mountaintop wind was cold, and a little grass feared the chill. Mu Qingshi had cast wards over the doors and windows, making the entire room warm and cozy—more comfortable than Qi Zhi’s own little house.
She thought she’d sleep well tonight, but for some reason, even after keeping her eyes shut for a long time, she just couldn’t fall asleep.
She thought perhaps it was the wind outside, too loud, stirring her heart into a mild flutter.
…
Mu Qingshi sat propped against the headboard, a quilt draped over her legs, her gaze somewhat hazy as she watched the candlelight flickering beside the bed.
The tightly shut door was suddenly tapped with a soft knock, pulling her from her thoughts.
She threw on an outer robe, rose, and went to the door, opening it a crack.
Qi Zhi stood outside with her neck hunched, hair mussed from sleep, her bright green eyes sparkling as she looked up.
“Shijie, I can’t sleep…”
Mu Qingshi paused, then smiled gently, reaching out to take her hand and lead her inside.
Later, the little one bundled up in her quilt, huddled on the bed, chatting with her by candlelight—one topic, then another.
They talked about the past, about the present, about the things they liked, and the things they didn’t.
It seemed to be the first time Qi Zhi wasn’t only telling Mu Qingshi about herself—she’d also started trying to ask about her past.
“When did you join Tiandao Sect, Shijie?”
“Over six hundred years ago, I suppose.”
“Have you been to many places?”
“Mm.”
“What’s the world outside the mountain like?”
“Very big.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s alright, I suppose.”
“Can you tell me about the past, Shijie?”
“Sure.”
The stories of Mu Qingshi’s past were mostly ones Qi Zhi had heard countless times from others.
But the same events, told by others and told by Mu Qingshi, felt entirely different.
She found herself drawn in without realizing.
In a daze, it was as if she glimpsed another Mu Qingshi.
Young and wild, fearing nothing in heaven or earth, believing there was nothing she couldn’t do—far more vivid than the untouchable lone moon in the high heavens that so many described, a being with no desires beyond the sword.
It was just a little regrettable—she’d never get the chance to meet that version of Second Senior Sister.
The candles in the room had burned down to stubs. Outside the window, the sky had brightened without her noticing.
When the first ray of dawn slipped through the window gap and fell across the floor, Qi Zhi realized with a start that she’d kept Mu Qingshi up the entire night.
She slipped out of the quilt with a pang of guilt, looking embarrassed.
“Shijie, um… the sky, it got light so fast.” Qi Zhi pointed at the window, pressed her lips together, slipped into her shoes, and took a couple steps toward the door. “I, I’ll go back now!”
Mu Qingshi rose and stepped forward, ruffling her hair with a laugh. “You’re going back like that? It’s a mess—like a little bird’s nest. Even Ah Yun would want to land on it.”
Qi Zhi opened her mouth, but before she could react, Mu Qingshi had guided her to sit in front of a mirror.
Her reflection was indeed a mess—she must have tossed and turned all night in the quilt.
Mu Qingshi stood behind her, undoing her hair bun and gently combing it out.
Her cheeks grew a little warm; she lowered her lashes without thinking.
The moment her hair was done, Qi Zhi fled Suihan Hall as if making her escape. It wasn’t until she could no longer see the graceful silhouette watching her from the mountaintop that she started skipping in circles, letting out soft, stifled giggles.
…
At the mountaintop, Suihan Hall.
Ah Yun perched high on a branch, eyes closed, basking in the newly risen sun.
Mu Qingshi returned from seeing Qi Zhi off and looked up at it with a quiet, lingering gaze.
“Ah Yun.”
The sudden calling of its name made its wings twitch. It turned its head toward the person below the tree.
“Go down the mountain and find an artifact forger,” Mu Qingshi said, then added, “One with good craftsmanship.”
“Ah?” Ah Yun tilted its head to the left.
Mu Qingshi said nothing more—just gave it a look that told it to figure the rest out itself.
After a brief silence, it let out a long “Oh—”, hopped to its feet, flapped its wings, and soared off into the distant sky.
Time flashed by, and more than ten days passed.
There were fewer people on the mountain, yet somehow more work to do.
Qi Zhi felt like she was busy from the moment she opened her eyes lately, though she wasn’t sure what she was even busy with. Whenever anyone had something to do, they just came straight to her with a word.
She didn’t dare say anything—just kept her head down and worked. In all those days, she’d only managed to squeeze in three visits to Suihan Hall.
She knew Ah Yun had returned, and each time she brought those little red berries for it, but somehow the little creature was never around when she visited.
“Where’s Ah Yun? Didn’t it just come back?”
She asked Mu Qingshi, but Mu Qingshi just smiled without answering.
On her fourth visit, Qi Zhi didn’t bring any berries—and the elusive little creature appeared once more in Suihan Hall.
Hands on her hips, she looked up at Ah Yun perched in the tree and tilted her head. “How come whenever I bring berries you’re nowhere to be seen, but the one time I don’t bring any, you show up!”
Ah Yun chirped a few times, looking thoroughly proud of itself, as if claiming credit for some achievement.
But she couldn’t understand bird language.
While she stood there in bewilderment, Mu Qingshi came to her side. “Because it was off preparing a gift for you.”
“A gift?”
“You’re always feeding it berries, so it wanted to give you something in return.”
Qi Zhi blinked curiously. “What is it giving me?”
Mu Qingshi smiled faintly and conjured two exquisitely crafted small mirrors.
The mirror faces were smooth and bright, yet they reflected nothing at all.
Qi Zhi’s eyes went wide. “Th-this is… Facing Mirrors!”
Mu Qingshi nodded. “Keep them.”
Qi Zhi looked in disbelief at Ah Yun in the tree, then at Mu Qingshi beside her.
She thought: Ah Yun was just a young spirit beast that couldn’t even take human form. If it had truly left the mountain specifically to find this for her, then it must have been her shijie’s idea.
She’d never imagined that the day she’d casually remarked on something, her shijie would actually get her a pair of Facing Mirrors.
She hesitantly reached out and took them, holding them in her palms with a touch of bewilderment.
After a long daze, she placed one of the mirrors back into Mu Qingshi’s hand. She pressed her lips together, looked up, and asked with the most earnest expression, “Can I leave this one with you, Shijie?”
“…Keep it with me?”
Qi Zhi nodded very seriously. “If I leave it with you, Shijie, then I can see you whenever I want.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed Mu Qingshi’s eyes—gone before Qi Zhi could catch it—and she curved her lips, answering softly, “Alright.”
Qi Zhi’s face lit up with joy, and she quickly grabbed Mu Qingshi’s sleeve. “Then—then Shijie, how do I use it!”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Mm!”
Mu Qingshi took her hand, her knuckles slightly cool.
Pure white spiritual light flowed like water across her fingertips, guiding the thin spiritual energy within Qi Zhi to lightly touch the mirror face that reflected nothing.
It was like still water rippling—reflecting a glimpse of a soft white hem caught in the wind.
“Wow! I can see it!” Qi Zhi jumped up and down where she stood, overjoyed.
Mu Qingshi released her hand, gazing at the delight in her eyes. After a long moment, the corners of her lips lifted, and she raised the mirror in her own hand overhead, chasing the flock of birds soaring freely into the distant sky.
Qi Zhi stared at the image in her mirror for a beat, then slowly raised her head, following the direction the other mirror pointed toward.
“It’s so wonderful…” she said. “The Master has never allowed me to leave the mountain.”
Mu Qingshi lowered her hand and smiled, ruffling her hair. “It’s fine. I’ll take you out from now on.”
“Is that really okay?” Qi Zhi’s heart leapt.
“Of course.”
“But what about the Master?”
“He won’t mind.”
“That’s wonderful!” Qi Zhi grabbed Mu Qingshi’s wrist, speaking excitedly.
She thought she truly had met the best shijie in the entire world.
So today was another especially happy day!
The author has something to say:
Mu Qingshi: Dead people won’t mind.
Footnotes
- 'Shijie' is a pinyin term for a senior female sect sibling, literally meaning 'senior sister.'
- The '-shimei' suffix denotes a junior female sect sibling, literally 'junior sister,' hyphenated to a name per naming convention.
- 'Duiying' means 'facing reflections.' Facing Mirrors are paired artifacts that transmit audio and visuals between matched halves when activated with spiritual power.
- 'Shixiong' is a pinyin term for a senior male sect sibling, literally meaning 'senior brother.'
- 'Qiankun' means 'heaven and earth' in Chinese philosophy. A Qiankun Bag is a spatial storage artifact common in cultivation fiction.
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