GWID Chapter 41

The Moon Palace Jade Rabbit was still asleep. Phoenix Mingzun walked out of the room, handed the plump little rabbit to Po Jun, turned and closed the door behind him, and no one else came out after that. Qisha and Tanlang stood in the courtyard, completely baffled, and gestured to ask him what had happened.

Phoenix Mingzun glanced back and made a gesture in return, saying quietly, “He’s gone. Let His Majesty the Emperor have some time to think.”

Little Phoenix heard this and poked his head out to ask Tanlang, “Has Weijian left?”

Tanlang said nothing, and simply reached out to pat him on the head.

Indeed, he had left.

For a moment, the courtyard fell into complete silence, with only the soft rustling of the breeze moving through the leaves.

Little Phoenix then waddled back inside and quietly nestled into a corner.

Inside the room, Po Jun received the Jade Rabbit with great care and cradled him in his arms, gently stroking his fur with one hand, and called softly, “Little rabbit.”

Little Phoenix crouched to one side, watching with his head tilted, holding his breath along with everyone else.

Slowly, the Jade Rabbit stirred. First he kicked his little legs, then he pawed around with his fluffy little paws, and opened a pair of clear, innocent eyes. Then he caught sight of Po Jun — that gentle, tender gaze. The Jade Rabbit’s expression shifted from clarity to bewilderment, then from bewilderment to understanding and delighted surprise — and in the next moment, he transformed into his human form, and like an affectionate little rabbit, threw himself into Po Jun’s arms.

Po Jun said, “Welcome back, little rabbit.”

Po Jun held him steadily, spinning around in place a few times, laughing without a sound, his eyes brimming with joy. After those words, neither of them spoke — they simply beamed like fools, and Po Jun, who was so often cold and unpredictable in front of others, had cast all of that aside, making everyone who watched feel a deep, aching envy.

The Jade Rabbit had recovered his memories. When would Xingyi recover his?

Little Phoenix drooped his little head and sternly told himself, “I’m not envious. Not even a little.”

But he hadn’t managed to keep the thought to himself — it slipped out without him realizing. Phoenix Mingzun heard his mumbling and shot him a sharp look. Little Phoenix gave a startled flinch, buried his head even lower, and quietly shuffled further away from Phoenix Mingzun without making it obvious.

But Phoenix Mingzun reached out and grabbed him, flicking a finger against his perfectly round little white head. “What a spineless little phoenix. Don’t you trust what Po Jun Star said? He said he would grant your wish, and so he will.”

Little Phoenix felt his hope rekindle. “So… he can find my husband’s memories? Maybe once Weijian remembers, he won’t argue with me anymore.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Weijian never used to argue with me before.”

Phoenix Mingzun glared at him. “I said you had no backbone, and you’re proving me right. You have to indulge him every time he throws a tantrum? This argument was clearly his fault. Little Phoenix, I’m telling you — you’re staying in Wangchuan today, and if you dare go back to coax that emperor who can’t even manage a smile — that thick-hoofed pig — I’ll discipline you myself on behalf of your elders right now.”

Little Phoenix curled himself into an even tighter ball, looking rather alarmed. “I, I, I…”

“Oh, you, stop your stammering — it’s settled.” On the other side, Yue Lao came over and patted Little Phoenix on the head, puffing his chest out magnanimously. “Little Yuan Yuan, you have no father or mother here — we are your family! You wait for your husband to come and beg your forgiveness on his knees. If you show even the slightest bit of softness, we’ll roast you into Roasted Yuan Yuan.”

Little Phoenix looked at Yue Lao, then at Phoenix Mingzun, and finally turned a pleading gaze toward Tanlang. Tanlang gave a cough, immediately turned away, and pretended to study a rack of orchids in the room.

Qisha wasn’t very familiar with Little Phoenix yet, and simply smiled gently.

And so Little Phoenix was kept under watch by the whole group and made to stay in Wangchuan.

Po Jun had started out as a mortal, and after his death had been appointed as the Rabbit God, then descended back to the mortal world to endure his trials, before earning himself the title of Po Jun Star. It was said that he was intimately familiar with the mortal world and could cook marvelous food — all the popular dishes of the mortals. The moment Yue Lao stepped inside, he started loudly demanding that Po Jun make hotpot for everyone.

Little Phoenix crouched by the Five-Section Cauldron to watch, a little curious. “Do immortals eat hotpot too?”

Phoenix Mingzun wrinkled his nose with some distaste. “We generally only eat things that are sweet and refreshing. Salty food is already rare for us, let alone anything greasy or intensely spiced. I don’t care for this sort of thing — it makes one put on weight.”

Little Phoenix had developed a love for all kinds of street food during his time in the mortal world, with no aversion to either salty or sweet. He quietly looked down at his own round little belly and swallowed. “Then I… won’t eat either. No, I’ll eat a little… five-tenths full… eight-tenths full, I think.”

Yue Lao looked at him curiously. “Aren’t you on a diet anymore, Little Yuan Yuan?”

Little Phoenix turned his head away. “I’ve given up. Even if I slim down, Weijian still won’t like me, and he’ll still argue with me. Today I’m not his little bird anymore. I’m going to eat to my heart’s content.”

As he said so, forgetting that he was still in his round little ball form, he stretched out a claw to reach for the chopsticks — and missed. Phoenix Mingzun gave him another look of disdain and tapped the top of his head, restoring him to his human form.

Little Phoenix slumped dejectedly over the table, poking at the flame beneath the pot with a silver chopstick. Before he had even started eating, he suddenly murmured, “When is Weijian going to come and beg my forgiveness?”

Yue Lao rapped him on the head again. “Remember! Today you are not the Emperor’s little bird — you are forbidden from mentioning him even once!”

Little Phoenix said, “Oh.”

Tanlang blanched some vegetables and casually picked them up and placed them in front of Little Phoenix. All the ingredients were the freshest available; the spices and seasonings had been selected one by one by Po Jun himself, then dried and ground — the flavor was exceptional. Little Phoenix had had no appetite to begin with, but after a few swallows his stomach woke up, and he began eating with his head bent over the table, eating with great enthusiasm without once looking up. The rising steam turned his face rosy and soft, and even his eyes seemed veiled in a light mist.

Phoenix Mingzun elegantly sipped a soup of spider lily blossoms and cherries, and ladled a small bowl for Little Phoenix, advising him, “Don’t eat just anything. We phoenixes must maintain our figures — keeping healthy is the foremost priority. Look at you, so young and your feathers have already gone white — what is to be done?”

Little Phoenix picked up the bowl and had a few sips, murmuring softly, “My feathers were like this from birth.”

Phoenix Mingzun glared at him. “Still talking back? Who is the Mingzun here — you or I? You’re this small, what do you know about the principles of good health that I don’t?”

And so Little Phoenix dared not talk back, and obediently finished the whole bowl of soup. He loved cherries, and the soup suited his taste perfectly. Little Phoenix opened his mouth as if to say something, swallowed the words that had come to his mind, and said in a stilted, roundabout way. “This soup is delicious. The fairy sisters back in Fuli Palace probably haven’t tasted it yet — it’s a bit of a shame, when you think about it.”

Yue Lao, Phoenix Mingzun, and Tanlang simultaneously looked up and glanced at him.

Little Phoenix quickly clarified, “I’m really not talking about anyone in particular! I mean it’s a pity that the fairy sisters can’t have such delicious hotpot or such good cherry soup.”

As he spoke, he grew wistful again. “Fuli Mountain is frozen all year round, and there’s always only so much to eat, without much variety. Perhaps Wei — I mean, the fairy sisters, have never tasted all these wonderful things from the outside world. They don’t go out much to enjoy themselves either.”

“Always shut away in the palace, and the temper sours — they become less likeable. The fairy sisters weren’t like this before.” Little Phoenix added.

Everyone suppressed their laughter and played along. “Then you should urge them more. How can things go on this way?”

Little Phoenix nodded earnestly. “I’ll remember to.”

After the meal, Po Jun and Jade Rabbit packed a bundle for Little Phoenix, filling it with hotpot broth base and a selection of fruits, vegetables, and flowers, for Little Phoenix to take with him the next day. Little Phoenix waited until dusk, and still Xingyi had not come to beg his forgiveness on his knees, which made him even more heartbroken. He slung the little bundle on his back and went to the room the Jade Rabbit had prepared for him, and lay down to sleep on the bed.

He fell asleep very early, and thought he had been asleep for a long time — but when he woke in the middle of the night, he found that the moon had not yet risen outside. The sounds of others talking in the courtyard had faded from a faint murmur to complete silence; it must have been time for everyone to retire to their rooms, for the courtyard was now empty.

Little Phoenix sat up on the bed, sat there dazed for a good while, then looked left and right, picked up his little bundle, climbed out the window, and crept away.

No sooner had he left than the door was gently pushed open — Jade Rabbit came in carrying a large stack of pastries and poked his head inside, only to find an empty bed. “Oh? Where has he gone?”

Po Jun and Yue Lao heard the commotion and looked out from the tea room in the main hall, then beckoned the Jade Rabbit back. “Don’t bother looking. He’s gone to find his fairy sister.”

****

Little Phoenix’s “fairy sister” sat in silence in the smelting chamber, doors and windows shut fast, without a single word.

No lamp had been lit in the room, yet at this moment it was as bright as daylight — the Star Disc blazed brilliantly, its shooting light scorching every inch of the cold air, and scorching Xingyi’s throat as well. He felt his throat was parched and dry, unable to make even the smallest sound; when the palace maid knocked at the door to deliver his meal, he tried to speak and found his voice hoarse. “Leave it.”

This was the first time in two months that he had not eaten together with that round, plump little bird.

Since his return, he had not touched a drop of water, and had sat nearly motionless for a long while. Each time he closed his eyes, he heard Phoenix Mingzun’s voice echoing in his ears:

— “This is the third time, Emperor. Please treasure it well.”

The Star Disc suddenly blazed to life, casting wavering shadows and light throughout the pitch-black room, like sparks flying from a fire. There came a sound — “shhk” — very faint, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through skin and sinew, followed by the slow welling of blood, dripping drop by drop onto the Star Disc.

The light gradually dimmed.

— “He searched for you for over two hundred years. In the first life, you died, and he followed you in death. In the second life, you ascended, then vanished without a trace and forgot all about him.“

It was as though a young man stood before him — a little shy, yet with a hint of sly calculation about him as he coaxed and teased, calling out to him: “Weijian.”

— “You placed the Evil Dragon Star into the Sha-Po-Lang configuration with your own hands, yet you yourself were caught up in it as well, and even implicated Little Phoenix. Whether this was fated connection or karmic trial — who can say with any certainty?”

The light blazed up again, and the blood that had dripped down evaporated in an instant into a mist of blood. A lethal wave of pain swept through every fiber of Xingyi’s body. He remained perfectly still, and after a moment, drew the blade across his arm once more — this cut severed through the meridians and blood vessels, and the blood soaked nearly half his sleeve through.

It was the posture of one willing to risk his life, yet Xingyi seemed to feel no pain whatsoever, calmly and methodically saturating the entire Star Disc with his own blood, then drawing a suppression formation over it.

This time the Star Disc went completely dark — as it had on every evening approaching nightfall before, silent and without a trace.

Xingyi Emperor let out a slow breath and reached out to set the thin leaf-shaped blade down on the edge of the table.

This was the very blade he had used to threaten Little Phoenix, claiming he would shave off his feathers with it.

— “If you won’t let me be your Empress, then why did you kiss me? That was very wrong of you. You were toying with a little bird’s feelings.”

He thought: who said he wouldn’t let him?

He would. He had raised a foolish little bird.

Xingyi took a deep breath and rose to his feet, pushing open the door. The heavy scent of blood surged outward. This time the aura was dense — the killing energy in the blood of an Ancient God flattened every scent that might have been considered a delicacy. The bats in the vicinity of Fuli Palace retreated a hundred feet, and the ancient trees in the palace grounds put forth hard, serrated, metallic-edged leaves and branches.

— “Today I am not your little bird anymore.”

Xingyi raised his head to look at the moonlight. The moon was close to him; he had always known precisely the moment the sun and moon and stars moved, the moments of the four seasons’ turning. But tonight the moon would not follow him — as though frozen in place, it hung pale and stark in the sky, neither rising nor setting, the night unchanging, and the moon the same.

Why was this night so long?

Why had today still not passed?

Xingyi Emperor looked up at the moon, calmly counting out time in his heart, calculating where it ought to have moved to — yet no matter how he calculated, the reckoning was wrong. He started over from the beginning once, started over from the beginning a second time. Without realizing it, he had walked a very long way, yet that moon had still neither risen nor set. But he himself had walked out beyond the palace, and had come to the boundary where Northern Heaven and Southern Heaven met. One step further to the left, and he would be in Wangchuan.

****

Little Phoenix walked along the bank of the Wangchuan, stumbling as he went.

He had lost his way a little. The structure of the Underworld was completely unlike that of the Heavenly Court — this river seemed to have no end no matter how far he walked, and there wasn’t even a gate. All along the way, he only knew that he was moving further and further from Po Jun Star’s palace, and the spider lily blossoms beneath his feet grew more and more abundant, until at last the river was blanketed in sweeping sheets of fiery red spider lilies, and within each blossom one could see a dream of a past life reflected.

Little Phoenix stopped to look. In the blossom nearest to him was a reflection of his past self — from his second life. He was sorting through Xingyi’s letters, waiting alone in the mortal world, reading each letter for a whole evening before falling asleep with a smile, cradling it to his chest.

Both Xingyi and he had been saving spirit stones, so some of the letters had been sent with a high-priced spell sealed into them. The moment you opened one, Xingyi’s voice would appear at your side, coaxing you to sleep, most of the time filled with idle chatter: “The moon here is very large and very round — open your window and look. Is yours the same?”

And he would reach out to open the window. Even when it was a rainy, overcast day, he felt certain that through the clouds, he could see the very moon his beloved was looking at.

Little Phoenix looked up at the moon above Wangchuan tonight and felt momentarily dazed. The scene within the spider lily seemed to blend with what was before his eyes, and he half-wondered whether he was still in his second mortal life, only in the middle of a very long dream.

Little Phoenix reached out tentatively, wanting to push open that nonexistent window — before he even touched it, a powerful, unreasonable force yanked him sharply backward. He stumbled several steps, and all at once came fully back to his senses.

He had been standing in the waters of the Wangchuan. One more step, and he would have been swept up in the current of oblivion and departed spirits.

Xingyi dragged him back, pulling him all the way up onto the bank. Little Phoenix stumbled along behind him, listening to a stream of scolding. “Not watching where you’re going, just walking straight into the river? Are you a phoenix or a quail? How can anyone be this stupid?”

The hand gripping him was — for some reason — ice-cold, colder even than the waters of the Wangchuan, and trembling ever so slightly.

Little Phoenix erupted in fury. “What’s wrong with being a quail — don’t you look down on quails! And never mind that — what business is it of yours where I go! I can walk however I like. Today I am not your little bird anymore!”

Xingyi Emperor’s eyes blazed with a frightening intensity, yet within them was a dark, sunken color that Little Phoenix could not quite read. He reached out and held Little Phoenix firmly against his chest, and said quietly, “Come back with me.”

Little Phoenix wriggled and struggled, insisting. “I am not your little bird anymore!”

“You are.” Xingyi Emperor held him in place, and right before his eyes, opened the Star Disc, drove the star positions into motion — utterly indifferent to the effort — and tore open the wound that had barely begun to heal, forcing out a stream of blood. The Star Disc spun rapidly, the light of the sky shifted quickly, the moon descended, and the canopy of night gradually lightened. Xingyi said with an expressionless face, “It is already the second day.”

Little Phoenix was nearly moved to tears by him. “You are completely unreasonable, Weijian.”

He looked at Xingyi’s wound-covered right hand with great sorrow, too sad to even find words.

Xingyi stood silently before him, watching him on the verge of tears. After a long while, he suddenly let out a quiet, soft sigh.

He reached out and drew Little Phoenix into his arms, pressing his face against the side of his neck, and bent slightly to hold his Little Phoenix close. “Don’t be angry anymore. It was my fault.”

Little Phoenix caught the heavy scent of blood on him. Xingyi, however, seemed entirely unperturbed, and held out his injured hand for Little Phoenix to see, saying to him in a consulting tone. “Look — I’ve been hurt.”

Little Phoenix glared at him.

Xingyi said without expression. “I’ve apologized.”

Little Phoenix continued to glare at him.

Xingyi said, “Now it’s your turn to comfort me.”