GWID Chapter 39

The moon had just risen, and the night grew gradually deeper, veiling the tender whispers and touches exchanged on the bed.

Xingyi and Little Phoenix kissed and nipped at each other playfully for a long while, until drowsiness finally crept over them. Little Phoenix tugged at his collar and kissed him all over, then solemnly announced, “I’ve got it, Weijian! I know how to kiss people now!”

Xingyi flicked him on the forehead. “Go to sleep. We’ll test the results later — this isn’t something you can prove just by saying so.”

Little Phoenix obediently curled up in his arms and murmured his agreement. A moment later, he whispered again, “Weijian, if we’re going to Wangchuan tomorrow, what time should we get up? Do you want to sleep in?”

Xingyi looked at his eyes, sparkling with excitement, and gave a low laugh. “Let’s go early. You wake me.”

Little Phoenix thought it over, first agreed readily, then changed his mind. “Let’s sleep in after all, Weijian. Since we’re going out to have fun, we should be well-rested first. If I drag you up too early, you won’t enjoy yourself and it’ll wear you out.”

This little bird had completely forgotten that Xingyi was going there on business. In his mind, “going to Wangchuan” had already become synonymous with going on a trip together.

Xingyi went along with him and revised his answer, patting his head. “All right, then we’ll rise later. Whatever you say.”

Little Phoenix was delighted. He burrowed deeper and deeper into his arms, clinging to him like an octopus, even going so far as to drape his legs over him in an unruly fashion. In the past, Xingyi would have rolled him up in the blanket like a bundle and tucked him in firmly, making him behave — but tonight he was uncharacteristically lenient, hardly saying a word about it. When the blanket slipped down, he simply cast a spell to warm the room to the balmy comfort of late spring, and held Little Phoenix in his arms. And so, wrapped in that gentle warmth, Little Phoenix drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Little Phoenix slept until he woke on his own, at the same hour he usually did. Remembering that Xingyi typically slept a little longer at this time, he remained bleary-eyed and didn’t bother opening his eyes — instead, he rolled to the side and reached out to feel for his husband, only to find nothing there.

There was no one beside him. Xingyi’s changed clothes were folded neatly to one side, waiting for the palace attendants to collect them for washing, and the morning tea that was set by the bedside every day for rinsing one’s mouth had already been drunk down by more than half.

Xingyi had risen so early today?

Little Phoenix was rather puzzled.

He got up and threw on a robe, then fussed about for a good while before selecting an outfit he liked — a pale peach one that made him look fresh and dewy when he put it on. The few garments Xingyi had commissioned from the Weaving Maiden were lovely in cut, but some of the colors weren’t to his taste — too plain. After all, Xingyi hadn’t known his preferences at the time.

He had told Xingyi about it afterward. “I want to wear red — the really stunning kind, the sort that looks beautiful when you dance, the more elaborate the better. I can pull it off.”

Xingyi had laughed at him. “Only fox spirits dress like that. Are you giving up on being a little phoenix and becoming a fox spirit instead?” Little Phoenix had puffed up and transformed into his little round bird form, fluttering furiously to the top of Xingyi’s head and chirping loudly — jiu jiu this and jiu jiu that — until Xingyi eventually sent another message to the Weaving Maiden, commissioning a new batch of clothes for Little Phoenix. They weren’t finished yet, though, so he had to make do for now.

Little Phoenix put on the outfit he had carefully coordinated, then pattered off to wash up, and asked one of the early-rising fairy maidens to help him style his hair. Rather than pinning it all up, the fairy maiden loosely gathered a few wisps of loose strands, braided them into several plaits, and tied them off with a red satin ribbon. Little Phoenix stared into the mirror, pleased as could be, and asked, “Fairy Sister, do I look good? Could you lend me a little of your rouge and powder?”

The fairy maiden pinched his cheek. “What does a grown man need rouge and powder for? You’ll have to break that habit. Besides, Little Phoenix, you already look wonderful — your complexion is excellent. No need for cosmetics.”

That was the truth of it. Little Phoenix had always had a healthy glow; even without rouge or powder, he was a young man of red lips, white teeth, and captivating eyes. He admired himself vainly from left and right, graciously accepted the fairy maiden’s compliment with becoming modesty, then pattered off to find his husband.

Xingyi had not gone anywhere else. According to the palace attendants, he had risen at the hour of Mao and had remained in the smelting chamber ever since, without coming out.

The smelting chamber’s doors and windows were shut tight. When Little Phoenix tried to push open the door, he found a seal had been placed on it. He knocked and called out with some anticipation, “Weijian, good morning — I’m up.”

There was silence inside for a good while. After a moment, faint footsteps could be heard within, and then Xingyi came to the door and pushed it open.

Little Phoenix hopped in front of him, spread his arms, and spun in a circle, tilting his head to look at him. “Weijian.”

Xingyi saw at once that Little Phoenix had made a special effort with his appearance today. The young man bloomed freely before him like a flower, the corners of his mouth curled up, a small expectant smile hovering on his lips — as if to say, Look at me! Look at me! — and then wait for praise.

That smile dazzled him for a moment. He quickly collected himself, curved his lips into a faint smile, and offered a brief verdict. “Beautiful.”

Little Phoenix knew his temperament well. Xingyi had never been much for flattery, and in all the time they’d been together, he’d never once said the words not beautiful. But those two words alone were enough to make him happy. He grabbed Xingyi’s hand and urged him to hurry up and get ready so they could set off.

Xingyi glanced back at the smelting chamber. The doors and windows were shut, and now that the door had been opened, the interior was dark and dim, save for the occasional arc of blazing silver starlight. His expression grew heavy and distant, as though his thoughts had drifted elsewhere.

Little Phoenix took his hand, and at first his fingers brushed against the place on Xingyi’s hand where he had pecked him the night before — then he quickly shifted his grip to avoid it.

There seemed to be a faint smell of blood in the air. Little Phoenix sniffed, but his human form lacked the sharp nose of his bird form, and he quickly dismissed it as imagination. Given the nature of Xingyi’s constitution, the wound from his pecking should have long since stopped hurting and begun to scab over — yet for some reason, Xingyi hadn’t used a healing spell to smooth it away.

Seeing Xingyi look back, Little Phoenix paused to wait for him. “Weijian, do you still have something to attend to?”

Xingyi came back to himself, pulled the door shut behind him, and dissolved the seal. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

And so they walked out hand in hand, the thick snow crunching softly underfoot with every step. Little Phoenix scooped up a snowball and pressed it to Xingyi’s cheek. Xingyi’s expression remained as calm and still as water; he simply gathered a handful of thin snow and patted it against the back of Little Phoenix’s neck. Little Phoenix yelped and hunched his shoulders, lunging at him — Xingyi caught him and drew him close, then removed his crane-feather cloak and draped it over his shoulders. “Next time you want to show off and dress this lightly again, you can freeze on your own.”

Little Phoenix accepted the windfall and still managed to be smug about it. He rose onto his toes and murmured softly against Xingyi’s ear. “Then I’ll turn myself into a phoenix meat jelly for you to eat. Would you like that?”

Warm breath grazed his earlobe and drifted upward, dissolving into white mist before slowly fading into the cold morning air.

Behind the closed chamber door, the restlessness of the Star Disc had gradually settled — but at the same time, even with the doors and windows sealed shut and a warding spell in place, the smell of blood that could not be suppressed grew only stronger with Xingyi’s departure. Blood-hungry bats lurking in the deep woods were drawn by the fresh blood of the Ancient War God, and came swarming to the outside of Fuli Palace in great dark clouds — yet, fearing the martial aura within the palace, they hovered and dared not venture closer.

A fairy maiden was outside sweeping snow from the courtyard. She looked up, saw the vast black mass of bats, and startled. “Why have so many bats come?”

The bat clan was proud and eccentric in temperament. The lead bat, who had gained spiritual awareness, paid no heed to the fairy maiden’s attempts to block it and flew up to circle above Fuli Palace once, before returning with an eerie cackle. “Emperor Fuli has let blood to suppress the Star Disc! A remarkable thing, once in a thousand years — when has an Ancient War God ever been unable to contain his own Star Disc, and had to shed his own blood to lay a formation?”

The bat’s hoarse, rasping voice echoed through the skies above Fuli Palace. “Extraordinary! Extraordinary! Brothers, let us withdraw — that place is beyond our reach. Otherwise, we’d surely come in for a share of the feast! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

The fairy maiden swatted at them with her broom, sending the whole flock shrieking and scattering in all directions. The dark cloud of creatures dispersed in an instant, and she spat after them furiously. “Go! Go! Go!”

Only when the sun had fully risen did this small disturbance at last come to rest.

****

Xingyi had spoken to Dong Jun the day before and borrowed his celestial chariot — the one Dong Jun used to drive the sun across the sky — and now it carried him and Little Phoenix racing all the way toward Wangchuan. Along the way, they encountered Yue Lao riding on a cloud and the Phoenix Ming Zun, who had taken his great phoenix form and was flying along at his own unhurried pace. They stopped to exchange greetings.

Yue Lao said with undisguised envy, “May I hitch a ride?”

Xingyi was perfectly composed and magnanimous. “You may.”

Yue Lao climbed in happily, running his hand over the brilliant, iridescent seat — hard, yes, but there was a reason for that; Dong Jun’s chariot and horses were grander and more magnificent than even the Queen Mother of the West’s procession — and sighed with feeling. “That penny-pinching Dong Jun actually agreed to lend this to you. I suppose I’m benefiting from your and Little Yuan Yuan’s good fortune. My immortal journey is now without regret.”

Phoenix Ming Zun, without so much as a word of greeting, simply climbed in directly in his original form and settled himself beside Little Phoenix. His two slender straight bird-legs were placed properly on the floor, his golden wings were folded with dignified restraint, and his long narrow phoenix eyes looked straight ahead — only occasionally glancing over toward Little Phoenix, as though he found his gaudy outfit somewhat distasteful.

Little Phoenix was still a little afraid of him, and was so frightened he didn’t dare move, mimicking his posture and sitting up ramrod straight with his spine perfectly erect.

The whole carriage maintained this strange silence all the way until they arrived at Wangchuan.

They had come early, but Qisha and Tanlang had come earlier still. The party had barely set foot on the ground when a strange man walked out from the courtyard — deep-set brows and eyes, sharp-cut features, yet with an expression of striking gentleness. “You’ve arrived.”

His aura was entirely unlike that of Tanlang or Qisha — it was the kind of gentleness that comes from having seen a thousand sails pass and watched deadwood bloom again in spring, and beneath his gaze there lay a certain steadiness and quiet tenacity. The man’s eyes lingered on Xingyi’s face for a moment longer, then composed their knowing expression and simply gave a slight nod. “Po Jun Star of the Northern Dipper, Yaoguang, presents himself before the Master of the Star Disc. Your appearance is as I had imagined — the same heroic bearing.”

He said it in this plain, unremarkable tone, without the slightest inflection — yet the others couldn’t help but tense, as though afraid he might suddenly turn hostile at any moment. But what no one expected was that Po Jun’s gaze swept across the assembled group and finally came to rest on Little Phoenix.

Upon seeing him, Po Jun’s voice softened slightly, “Welcome to Wangchuan, Little Phoenix. If you don’t mind, may I ask to speak with you alone for a little while later?”

At the same moment, a plump rabbit with a sleek, gleaming coat came bounding out from behind the courtyard gate, stood up on its hind legs to peer outside, then scurried up along Po Jun’s leg and scrambled swiftly into his arms, where it was scooped up and cradled — its two ears twitching with contentment, its little tail wagging back and forth.

Little Phoenix was rather curious. “Do you know me? I don’t have a name — I’m just called Little Phoenix. Though you can also call me Yuan Yuan.”

Before Po Jun could answer, Xingyi spoke. He drew Little Phoenix back slightly, stepping forward to shield him in an understated way, and asked Po Jun, “What do you intend?”

The sudden, suppressed pressure in his aura was chilling enough to make Yue Lao involuntarily step back.

Po Jun smiled faintly. “Only an old acquaintance reunited, nothing more. When I first became an immortal, I was not yet Po Jun Star — I was merely under the Jade Emperor’s patronage, serving as the Rabbit God, presiding over the love between men. Not long after my mortal body had passed, the legends about me in the mortal realm had not yet spread widely, and in those early years I was very idle. So the few pairs who came to my temple to pray and make offerings — few as they were — every single one of them I remember.”

Little Phoenix cried out. “The Rabbit God! So you are Po Jun Star, and also the Rabbit God! Weijian never told me, but I know of you — I went to your temple once!”

Po Jun nodded with a smile. “Indeed.”

Xingyi turned his head slightly to look at Little Phoenix. For once, there was something he wanted to say — yet the words died before they reached his lips.

They were speaking of things he did not know, had never heard. Little Phoenix’s story in the mortal world — he had wanted to ask about it yesterday, but in the end had not been able to voice the question. Little Phoenix had said he had passed through a love tribulation, but with whom, and what had become of it in the end, he knew nothing. And this little bird showed no inclination to tell him of his own accord.

That awareness provoked in him, unexpectedly, a faint flicker of irritation. He suppressed the feeling and forced himself to steady his mind, listening quietly as Po Jun star continued to speak.

Po Jun paid no attention to the others and went on, addressing Little Phoenix. “I remember you. When I first saw you then, I saw through your true form at once — a white-feathered phoenix. Afterward, I kept searching for you, and it was only this year that I heard word of you from Phoenix Ming Zun. So I made a point of asking you to come.”

Little Phoenix tilted his head. “What did you want to find me for?”

Po Jun Star looked at him, and said softly, “To fulfill the wish you made all those years ago.”