GWID Chapter 38

Little Phoenix couldn’t carry the moonstone chessboard that Yue Lao had specified on his own, so he enlisted the help of the Golden-Winged Bird. Together, one bird gripping the board, they huffed and puffed as they set it down in the pavilion outside the garden.

The Golden-Winged Bird reported to Little Phoenix, “Boss, I’ll go back to washing and sorting the flower petals now — and can I take ninety-nine red ones home with me?”

Little Phoenix was a little reluctant. He stretched his neck and asked, “Ninety-nine is quite a lot. What do you want them for?”

The Golden-Winged Bird grew a little bashful. “I want to… to give them to Brother Tanlang. Last time, because the Heavenly Court had entered winter, he accompanied me through more than seventy mortal worlds’ worth of spring and summer — hunting for fresh goji berries and the finest red dates, and going all the way to the River of Forgetfulness to gather red spider lilies one by one. I originally wanted to give him the red spider lilies, but I heard the symbolism was inauspicious, so I didn’t.”

Little Phoenix let out an “oh” and granted the request. “Then take them. Since you run with me, you should know that a good little bird must repay kindness — we are good little birds.”

The Golden-Winged Bird spread his wings and compared their sizes. He and Little Phoenix were not remotely the same build — it looked rather like a great cloud-quilt had shed a clump of down. A Golden-Winged Bird, a Fan Tian Golden-Winged Great Roc, ought by rights to be a magnificent creature, yet he humbly accepted the label, and flapped his wings in a rousing cheer alongside Little Phoenix. “We are good little birds!”

Little Phoenix watched this “little bird” flutter cheerfully back, then squatted beside the chessboard to wait for Yue Lao. While he waited, he gnawed at the bark of an old tree at the edge of the pavilion, scraping at it with his little talons until the old tree burst into ticklish laughter. “Little Yuan Yuan, stop pestering me — go play chess with Lord Yue Lao.” There was only one tree in Fuli Palace that had gained sentience, and it rarely spoke; it was said to be deeply fond of the feeling of being a tree and disinclined toward taking human form. Little Phoenix had never heard it speak before.

Little Phoenix tried to scratch it again, but the old tree bent its branches down through the gaps between his talons, steadied him firmly in place, and then lifted him up onto the stone table. As a parting gesture, it gave his small round head a gentle pat with one of its boughs.

Meanwhile, Yue Lao came strolling over with a light step — and stranger still, Xingyi actually emerged from the smelting chamber as well. This person had clearly been in a state of focused work just moments ago; in the past, if one had tried to drag him away while he was working, Xingyi wouldn’t have spared so much as a glance.

Little Phoenix tilted his head and looked at them. Xingyi seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, found himself a spot to sit, and said coolly, “I came out for some air. I’ll just watch you two play chess.”

Yue Lao rolled up his sleeves with great enthusiasm, seized the advantage of playing black first, slapped a piece down with a clack, and then urged Little Phoenix. “Hurry up, Little Yuan Yuan — the Emperor said that if I win, he’ll stew you into a soup for me.”

Xingyi said, “Rubbish. What I said was that you couldn’t possibly beat him.”

Yue Lao spread his hands. “Little Phoenix, his exact words were that I could not possibly beat you — meaning that if I could win, he’d braise you into Red-Braised Yuan Yuan. See if he dares to deny it.”

Little Phoenix tilted his head and glanced at Xingyi again. Xingyi accepted a cup of tea from a fairy handmaiden, and said with perfect composure, “I won’t deny it. If you dare lose to him, I will braise you and eat you. My little bird does not lose to anyone — understood?”

Little Phoenix asked, “If I win, could I borrow Brother Yue Lao’s red robes to wear for a day?”

Yue Lao was most magnanimous. “If you love red robes, I’ll have a hundred made for you!”

Little Phoenix chirped with delight and turned to Xingyi. “Understood!”

Xingyi gave a satisfied nod. “Good. I’ll go get you some snacks. Play your chess well.”

Little Phoenix gazed after him with eager little eyes. “Then come back quickly — I want you to watch me beat him!” The plump little bird said this, picked up a white piece in his short, pointed beak, and set it steadily on the board.

Yue Lao cried out, “We’ve only just begun! Don’t talk as though I’ve already lost. You little round bean, stop looking around — pay attention! Where are your talons? Don’t go secretly touching the pieces behind my back! Accidents don’t count either!”

Half an incense stick later, Yue Lao flipped the board over in fury. “Again!”

Another half incense stick passed. “Best two out of three! I refuse to believe this.”

A moment later —

“Best three out of five! Little Yuan Yuan, best three out of five.”

On the other side of the palace, a senior fairy handmaiden followed behind Xingyi as he went to fetch Little Phoenix’s lianshi fruits for the day.

Yue Lao’s wails carried over from a great distance away, perfectly clear. The handmaiden said, “Speaking of which, Your Majesty — how did you know that Little Yuan Yuan would certainly beat Yue Lao?”

Xingyi picked through the lianshi fruits, selecting the roundest and firmest of the batch, and replied, “Simple — because I cannot beat Little Phoenix at chess either.”

The handmaiden was astonished. “Truly?”

Xingyi offered a modest assessment on Little Phoenix’s behalf. “When he plays against me, we split wins about evenly.” He paused, peeled a lianshi fruit and popped it into his own mouth, then laughed softly and said, “He’s quite interesting. If luck can be counted as a kind of talent, then Little Phoenix is the sort whose luck is absolutely supreme. When we play chess, we follow the mortal world’s rules, and he seems quite well-versed in them — his moves are uncanny and inscrutable. Sometimes it looks as though he’s simply out of options and plays a piece carelessly, yet it happens to break open the crux of the entire game. The last time I encountered anything like that was when I played chess with the Three Star Gods of Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity. What mortals call divine blessing and the turning of one’s fortune — this is exactly what that is.”

The handmaiden listened with growing amazement, her mouth falling open. “Something like that can actually happen? Though now that you mention it, I recall something too — once, when we palace attendants gathered to play leaf cards, Little Phoenix Yuan Yuan perched on my shoulder for a while and even picked a few cards for me in his beak. Every card he picked was a good one. So our Little Yuan Yuan is a lucky star!”

Xingyi said, “Not entirely. The Three Star Gods of Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity bring good fortune everywhere they go — it benefits those around them as well as themselves. Little Phoenix is more like someone born with exceptional personal luck, without much bearing on others. Phoenixes are the most auspicious of all species to begin with — they tend to have good fortune as a rule. Just look at Fan Tian’s great phoenix who does nothing but tend to his own cultivation: his immortal path is smooth and unimpeded. The phoenix clan as a whole is much the same. The reason white-feathered phoenixes are considered inauspicious is that they are born with weak qi and prone to early death; compared to other phoenixes, their fates tend to be more turbulent and fraught with hardship.”

The handmaiden grew more and more curious. “So that means Little Yuan Yuan is different from ordinary white-feathered phoenixes?”

Xingyi said, “Mm.”

The handmaiden pondered further. “That really is extraordinary. What kind of origins does Little Yuan Yuan have? I heard Little Phoenix Yuan Yuan say that he hatched entirely on his own, with no family or kin.”

Xingyi plucked the last fruit and set it on the silver tray.

The words Yue Lao had brought to him seemed to echo still in his ears. “The Rabbit God invited Little Phoenix over to play, and had already long ago asked whether the Illustrious Phoenix Mingzun knew of a white-feathered, round, chubby little bird — as though he had known all along that there would be a phoenix by your side.”

Just what identity did his Little Phoenix hold?

By the time Xingyi leisurely carried the silver tray over and sat down, he found that Yue Lao and Little Phoenix had switched to playing leaf cards. In addition to the two of them, they had recruited two more celestial pages to fill out a table, and the scene had spiraled entirely out of control — Yue Lao’s screams of anguish echoed across the skies of Fuli Palace. “You must be cheating! Little Bean, why are your cards always this good?! I don’t believe it! Ahhh!”

Little Phoenix was most modest. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Because his talons couldn’t grip too many cards at once, this little bird had all his cards laid flat on the table in plain view of everyone — a display of absolute openness that was also supremely infuriating. Yue Lao’s teeth itched with irritation. “You call this ‘alright’?”

Little Phoenix said, “It is alright. When I was undergoing tribulation in the mortal world, my luck was actually even better than now — back then, whatever I wanted would simply come to me. When I visited a gambling house in the mortal world and bet on jade stones, I could pick the finest jadeite by pure chance. Ten taels of gambling money would end up turning into thirty thousand taels — and one mortal tael is roughly equivalent to one spirit stone for us. If I stopped at a roadside noodle stall, the owner might randomly select me as a special customer and give me a free meal or extra side dishes. There were many such examples.”

Yue Lao was struck speechless.

After a moment, he said again, “But I’ve also heard a saying — that too much luck isn’t good either, because you use it all up early, and afterward there’s none left. I think that’s probably true.”

Little Phoenix carried a card to the center of the table in his beak, then waited quietly for the others to play their hands. Everyone around him was still immersed in shock and wonder; a brief silence fell over the table. Only Little Phoenix seemed a little distracted.

Xingyi’s voice drifted over from the side. “Ten taels of gambling money? Were you that poor in the mortal world too? Surely a single phoenix feather would sell for a considerable sum.”

Little Phoenix turned to look at him. “But Weijian, I was descending to the mortal world to undergo tribulation — I was born into a human body. At the time, I didn’t even know I was a phoenix.”

A moment later, he drooped his head and muttered despondently, “I really am just a penniless little phoenix.”

In truth, during that time Xingyi had never restricted what he spent. He had even told him outright to manage the accounts — whatever he wanted to buy, he need not report it first. But Little Phoenix, always mindful that Xingyi was a prince, an official known for his clean governance and fixed salary who sometimes had to supplement his troops out of pocket, had essentially never touched Xingyi’s money. He had quietly mixed his own years of accumulated private savings into the account books, spending with careful calculation. In his final days in the mortal world, he had even considered opening a tavern as a business venture to help cover household expenses — but in the end, it never came to pass.

As Little Phoenix drifted into reminiscence, his mind wandered before he could help it. In the end it was Xingyi’s voice that pulled him back. “Descending to undergo tribulation? What tribulation — since when does the immortal world undergo heavenly tribulations by going to the mortal realm?”

Little Phoenix glared at him indignantly. “Dummy. Weijian, it was a love tribulation.”

Xingyi paused.

This little creature had undergone a love tribulation? With whom? When?

Just as he was startled into silence, Little Phoenix caught sight of the half-eaten peeled lianshi fruit in his hand, and his attention was immediately diverted. He let out a loud, agitated chirp. “Weijian, save some for me! Weijian, don’t eat any more — my snacks are going to be eaten up by you again!”

Xingyi looked down at the tray. He had been watching the game and, with nothing else to do, had been peeling and eating them one at a time, thinking that one less wouldn’t matter — but before he knew it he had eaten through quite a number, and now only two lianshi fruits remained on the silver tray.

Xingyi was unruffled as still water. “Whose fault is it for doing nothing but play cards? Lianshi fruits must be eaten fresh. Unable to bear watching you waste them, I ate them on your behalf.”

Little Phoenix smacked his cards down and flapped his small wings, leaping off the table and charging into Xingyi’s arms to wrestle the fruits away. Xingyi was too quick — he peeled the remaining two in one swift motion and tucked them into his sleeve. “All gone, you naughty little bird.”

Little Phoenix protested. “There are still some! Weijian!”

And so this small, plump bird, with reckless abandon, burrowed into his sleeve — wriggling from the cuff all the way to the hollow of his shoulder, nuzzling around for a good while, then climbed up his collar and poked his head out from between his neck and lapel, and said in a pitiful little voice, “Weijian, I couldn’t find them. Where did you hide them?”

Xingyi smiled without a word, and produced the two lianshi fruits he had concealed with a spell, placing them directly into Little Phoenix’s mouth. Little Phoenix was immediately delighted. He hopped out and settled on Xingyi’s knee, munching away with great concentration.

Xingyi looked down at the small head bent over his knee and the sight of him eating snacks with such solemn seriousness, reached out and smoothed down Little Phoenix’s belly feathers, then ruffled the feathers on top of his head. Little Phoenix, in the midst of his busy chewing, still managed to lodge a complaint. “Weijian, you’ve messed up my feathers — you owe me one thousand two hundred lianshi fruits.”

Xingyi laughed softly. “I won’t pay you in lianshi fruits. After eating so many of them all these days, aren’t you sick of them?”

Little Phoenix’s round, dark little bead-eyes blinked as he lifted his head to look at him.

Xingyi said, “Tomorrow I’ll take you on a trip to the River of Forgetfulness — to visit Po Jun Star and the Jade Rabbit. There are many rare and exotic flowers and fruits there that you’ve never tasted. Would you like to go and try some?”

Little Phoenix’s eyes lit up at once, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes please!”

Xingyi’s expression remained unchanged; he simply gave a nod. “Mm.”

After winning back his fruits, Little Phoenix returned to the card table, and Xingyi rose and went back to the smelting chamber.

He had really only come out to tell Little Phoenix about the trip to the River of Forgetfulness. He himself did not know why he had lingered outside for so long — it seemed to be simply that he genuinely enjoyed an afternoon like this one, warm and unhurried, with no particular pressing matters, a friend come to visit, his little bird chattering away telling stories to others, occasionally burrowing into his collar to nuzzle him.

In that moment, he thought of the ancient battlefield of old — after a brutal, devastating campaign, he and his companions had drunk spirits brewed from demon blood in the dusk, singing and laughing as they faced the nine moons on the horizon. He had walked alone at the very end of the group, silent and expressionless, neither laughing nor raging, yet he knew that what he felt in those moments was a profound sense of settledness. The ancient nights were as long and dark as the winters; among their company, Nuwa had been brilliant and fierce, her thoughts deep and complex; Xing Tian had been blunt and rough-hewn, his appearance terrifying; Fengdu, like him, had been silent and reserved, but had an extreme bloodlust. Not one of that group had looked remotely like the sort to walk the path of the gods; later generations had beautified them considerably, and the deeds of establishing order, pacifying the mortal world, and dividing the Six Realms had been swept over like passing clouds — what remained were only scattered fragments and traces.

It was as though that company of theirs bore curses from their excessive karmic sins — each one was afflicted, and they departed one after another, earlier than any. Before Xingyi had finished crafting the Star Disc, they had vanished one by one into nothingness.

One was left who hadn’t vanished — yet had simply lost a heart, unable to age and unable to die, ten thousand years the same as one.

At that time, Xingyi had always simply been Xingyi. It was later generations who began to spread his honorific title, calling him Fuli — the light before the dawn.

Xingyi had never dreamed; those without hearts could not dream, and that was as it should be. Similarly, he rarely called up memories of the past. Yet on this day, contrary to his usual ways, he leaned back in the chair in the smelting chamber and had a dream — the red clouds of the ancient battlefield lingered and would not disperse, and as he walked on and on, he suddenly found himself utterly alone. Mountains and rivers and the whole great earth had turned the color of blood, and through the blood-red swept great swaths of white, splitting the entire world into two halves.

“Red or white?” he heard that voice ask. “God or demon?”

He said instinctively, “Who are you?”

“I am your heart.” The voice tempted him with the lure of a bewitching sorcery into making a choice. That intoxicating quality in its breath was enough to render anyone dizzy and dazed, as though the next instant one might plunge into the abyss of endless burning karmic fire — and yet it also seemed capable of granting boundless joy.

He opened his mouth to speak —

At that same moment, a sharp pain pierced his hand between thumb and forefinger, jolting him out of his stupor. Xingyi frowned and opened his eyes. Through the lingering haze of sleep, he saw a small, frantic, plump little bird darting wildly about before him.

Snow white.

“White,” he said.

The words had barely left his lips when Xingyi came fully awake.

His fingers were warm and wet; drops of blood were falling — Little Phoenix had pecked him. This small, plump bird was hopping up and down in agitation, crying out loudly, calling his name. “Weijian, Weijian? Weijian, Brother Qisha sensed that the power of the Star Disc wasn’t quite right and came rushing over — he found you trapped in a nightmare! Are you alright?”

Xingyi drew a breath. He wanted to reach out and touch this frantic little bird’s head, but caught sight of the blood on his hand and held back. “I’m fine.”

Outside, the sky had already darkened — he had slept that long. Only now did he notice that part of Little Phoenix’s feathers had been singed. He must have forced his way in and been burned by the force that the Star Disc had discharged. Xingyi took hold of him and headed out. “I’m fine.”

Qisha stood nearby with his hands clasped behind his back, and said in a low voice, “Your Majesty, during the two hours you were asleep, the disturbance in the Star Disc became even more pronounced — as though no one was suppressing it. Fortunately, nothing went wrong.”

Yue Lao was also waiting by the side, looking somewhat uncertain. “Your Majesty, you were… you were caught in a nightmare?”

Xingyi waved a hand — the same three words. “I’m fine.”

Qisha followed a few steps behind, brow deeply furrowed. “This is the first time in a thousand years that you failed to hold the Star Disc. Perhaps I should go now and summon Tanlang and Po Jun to stand guard and protect—”

Xingyi said, “No need. I know what I’m doing.”

His complexion was as it always was; his qi, as well. After a moment of unease, the others gradually set their minds at ease.

Only Little Phoenix noticed that Xingyi seemed to have had a dream that had drained him greatly — he looked exhausted. He settled obediently into Xingyi’s palm and let him trim away the singed feathers, then was gently set down on the bed.

The small, plump bird perched at the head of the pillow and suggested, “Weijian, since we’re going out tomorrow, why don’t we sleep now?”

Xingyi agreed. He washed up simply, changed out of his outer robes, and got into bed. Little Phoenix covered his eyes with his small wings and chattered quietly, “Weijian, Weijian, let me tell you — today I asked Yue Lao and the fairy handmaidens to help me plan a travel itinerary. I don’t know Brother Po Jun Star personally, but he seems to be quite famous. Everyone told me that when visiting the River of Forgetfulness, one absolutely must go to Taiyin Hall to have hot pot, and must also go punting beneath the Naihe Bridge. I’ve already planned the whole route. Would you like to look it over with me?”

Xingyi said, “Mm.”

Little Phoenix patted his face with his small wing, a little put out. “Don’t be so perfunctory, Weijian. I’m very genuinely looking forward to going. Or are you tired and not up for talking?”

Xingyi reached out and touched him gently, his voice soft. “I’m a little tired, Little Yuan Yuan.”

In the instant he had woken from that dream, he had known something was wrong — a portion of the power he used to suppress the Star Disc had been abruptly drained away, as though a bone had been pulled out from inside him whole. A wave of exhaustion crashed down like a mountain. It had only been for a moment, but that moment had been so vivid and crushing it had been impossible to breathe.

He felt the small, plump little bird on the pillow patter patter over and press his belly against his cheek. “Then, Weijian — you don’t have to talk. Can I talk instead?”

And so this small round ball babbled on about one thing and another at great length. Xingyi thought of the words Little Phoenix had spoken while playing chess with Yue Lao — about the love tribulation — and wanted to ask: “What love tribulation? With whom?” But Little Phoenix was speaking with such enthusiasm that he did not interrupt him.

Dusty old stories from long ago came out from this little bird’s mouth sounding quite entertaining. Little Phoenix chattered his way from the River of Forgetfulness travel itinerary all the way to a winding account of the Judge and Meng Po’s drawn-out romance, and spoke for a good long while before finally pausing to catch his breath.

After a moment, Xingyi heard Little Phoenix ask, “Weijian, can I take human form tonight and sleep beside you?”

He said, “Yes.”

And so the small round ball at the head of the pillow shifted back into the form of a young man, and the bed gave a slight dip.

Little Phoenix wrapped his arms around one of Xingyi’s arms and hinted broadly, “Weijian, you’ve granted my request to take human form — you’re allowed to make a request of me in return, too. Something like… asking for a hug, for instance.”

Warm body heat and the fresh, clean scent of bamboo unique to the young man seeped through, bringing with it a measure of clarity.

Xingyi opened his eyes and looked at him, a faint trace of amusement in his gaze. Playing along, he said, “Little Phoenix, may I hug you?”

Little Phoenix immediately flung his arms open and rolled into his embrace. “You may!”

Xingyi put an arm around his shoulders and held his back, pulled the blanket over them, and tucked the young man properly into his arms. A moment later, Little Phoenix said again, “Weijian, may I kiss you?”

Xingyi said, “You may.”

Little Phoenix leaned over and planted a smacking kiss on the side of his cheek, then nudged him with his elbow. “Your turn, Weijian.”

By now, Xingyi had been lively enough from all of this, and he looked at him. “First, take human form. Then be held. Then a kiss. And then it’s my turn to think of something. You’ve certainly left me with an interesting question, naughty little bird. Do you dare tell me what you’re thinking right now?”

Little Phoenix yanked the blanket over his head in one swift motion and burrowed beneath the covers.

Xingyi poked at him several times, and threatened, “Speak — or I’ll eat all your fruits.”

Little Phoenix, muffled under the covers, said in a small, thick voice, “Weijian, you know how it goes — first you take human form, then you hug, then you kiss, and then the last step is the wedding chamber. So it’s your turn to suggest the wedding chamber. Why are you so slow?”

Xingyi hauled him out from under the covers and flicked him on the forehead. “As I’ve told you long since — wait until your cultivation reaches the Golden Core Tribulation stage.”

Little Phoenix pouted, burrowed back into his arms, and said in a small, aggrieved voice, “But that’s not fair. Now it’s your turn — I made a request, so you have to make one too. That’s only fair.”

Xingyi said lazily, “Very well then. Little Phoenix, may I kiss you?”

Little Phoenix rushed to say, “You may!” Then he thought about it, felt that something was off, and immediately added with some consternation, “But Weijian, I already made that request just now — you have to pick a different one.”

Without another word, Xingyi rolled over and pressed him beneath him.

Little Phoenix lay on his back against the bed, looking directly up into Xingyi’s shadowed, darkened gaze, and felt his head go faintly dizzy.

Xingyi’s voice, roughened slightly from exhaustion, was still low and pleasing to the ear. “That little peck of yours — you call that a kiss? Didn’t I already teach you how it’s done last time?”

He pressed one hand to the back of Little Phoenix’s head and held Little Phoenix’s wrists above his head with the other, keeping him still, then leaned down to his soft, rosy lips and kissed him, slow and deep.

TL/N:
Wàngchuān (忘川) is literally the “River of Forgetfulness” in Chinese mythology.

It is the river in the underworld where souls drink or cross to forget their past lives before reincarnation.