GWID Chapter 43

Little Phoenix was very comfortable being kissed by him, and just nestled obediently in his arms, occasionally murmuring a few indistinct words — no matter how you listened, they were always the two syllables “Weijian.” Later, after he’d cried himself exhausted, his eyelids growing heavy, whenever Xingyi shifted position slightly or moved away from him even a little, Little Phoenix still remembered to wrap his arms around Xingyi’s neck to keep him from leaving — twisting left and right, eyes too drowsy to stay open, absolutely refusing to let him go.

So Xingyi held him and shifted into a side-lying position, forehead pressed to forehead with him, reaching out to pull the blanket over him. Little Phoenix clung to him and slept soundly, drifting through a deep and sweet slumber all night long, sleeping so well he drooled.

The next day, Little Phoenix was woken by something poking him — he rolled over, and his elbow came down on something, and whatever it was, it was incredibly hard, jolting him awake with a small cry of pain. When he opened his eyes, he found it was a solidified, dark-red phoenix tear.

He looked down, and there were quite a few more scattered around him. Heaven only knew how long he’d cried yesterday, and how many phoenix tears he’d shed.

It wasn’t yet dawn. Xingyi was still asleep, his chin resting on top of Little Phoenix’s head, one arm draped around his waist, the two of them fitted snugly together. Little Phoenix didn’t dare move too much for fear of waking him, so he carefully looked downward, glancing left and right, groping blindly in the places he couldn’t see — and sure enough, he managed to find several phoenix tears buried in the bedding.

Little Phoenix went about it slowly, picking them up one by one and tucking them into his sleeve. Once he’d felt around his own immediate area, the edges and foot of the bed were too far away to see, so he turned his attention to Xingyi.

Xingyi was sleeping deeply. Even at rest, his features were solemn and still — his lashes were long, gathering the faint shadows of the early morning light and laying them quietly along his nose and beneath his eyes, tracing a profound and beautiful curve. Little Phoenix couldn’t resist reaching out and poking at them, making the lashes flutter, then immediately withdrew his hand and turned instead to picking up the phoenix tears from Xingyi’s collar.

As he picked them up, a quiet joy bloomed in his heart, and the person beside him only grew more pleasing to look at the longer he looked — he wanted to stay pressed against him like this forever and never move.

He’d thrown himself into Xingyi’s arms and cried so hard yesterday that most of these dark-red, priceless little specks were on Xingyi’s person. As Little Phoenix slowly came to his senses, he felt a little embarrassed on one hand, and on the other, began cheerfully calculating the value of the phoenix tears in his head.

One tear is worth ten thousand gold in the mortal world; in the heavenly realm, a thousand spirit stones each. The Queen Mother of the West’s job came with the perk of eating one peach for every one delivered — enough to keep him fed, but not enough to save up any money. He also had no wish to resell those Pantao peaches. The Wuxin Ming King had offered better pay — two thousand spirit stones per message delivered — but recently Little Phoenix had heard that the Ming King had given up his position to go down to the mortal world to fall in love. So that post wasn’t taking on anyone new, and he was about to be out of a job.

Which meant he was currently an unemployed phoenix. Being Empress was lovely, of course, but being Empress didn’t seem to come with a salary.

The way things stood, selling his own tears was actually quite a profitable business. The joy and excitement of making money quickly overtook the tender warmth he’d felt upon waking, and the unemployed Little Phoenix got a little worked up about it.

He’d shed more tears yesterday than he’d expected — just from Xingyi’s collar and the sides of his sleeves, he’d already found seventeen. He looked around a bit more and spotted one that had slipped down into Xingyi’s loosely open collar. Without much hesitation, he reached in and rummaged around for a while, feeling along Xingyi’s firm chest and abdomen — only to find that not only had he failed to fish it out, he’d actually sent it sliding further down, where it fell along the side of his waist and landed on the bedding, loosely caught beneath the fold of Xingyi’s lapel.

With his mind entirely on his grand scheme for getting rich, Little Phoenix carefully sat up, gently lifted Xingyi’s lapel, and buried his head in a focused search for the runaway phoenix tear. After a long while, he finally found it — picked it up with delight, tucked it away, and then carefully smoothed Xingyi’s lapel back into place and tidied everything up neatly.

In the process of tidying, he discovered a few more phoenix tears on Xingyi’s person, wedged in the folds of his robes. He used the same method as before, reaching in to feel around carefully, searching by touch — and he was still searching when something suddenly knocked a flick against his head, followed by Xingyi’s low, slightly hoarse voice. “What are you doing?”

Little Phoenix looked up. Xingyi’s gaze was dark and unreadable as he peered down at him. “Where exactly are your hands going, you little bad bird?”

Little Phoenix looked at Xingyi, then looked at his own hand — which was, by now, trending distinctly south of the waistband. He stole a glance at Xingyi, then put on his most bright and innocent smile, first patting Xingyi’s cheek. “We’re an old married couple now, aren’t we? We can be a little more open with each other — no need to be so shy.”

Before Xingyi could get a word in, Little Phoenix swiftly curled his fingers and gave a flick downward to indicate his indifference — the flick landed dead on target. Xingyi’s whole body gave a shudder, and then he immediately shot upright and reached out to grab him — but Little Phoenix was faster. With a bang, he transformed into a small bird, a round white ball of fluff that darted out of reach of Xingyi’s palm and landed on his abdomen, then whooshed straight up into his collar.

Xingyi sat up, tightened his sash, and reached in to catch him. Little Phoenix began shrieking. “Weijian! Weijian, my pecks hurt a lot when I’m a little bird! Don’t grab me, or I’ll peck you!”

“You dare?” Xingyi said. He reached around for a while, and finally managed to fish out the little round ball, holding it in his palm and squeezing and kneading it, rolling it round and flat, as if working a soft lump of dough.

Little Phoenix fixed him with a guilty little beady-eyed stare and kept on chirping loudly. “Weijian! Weijian! I’m a little bird right now, you can’t treat me like this!”

Xingyi gave a cold laugh, raised a hand to form an immortal seal, and in the blink of an eye transformed Little Phoenix back into human form, pressing him down beneath him.

Little Phoenix looked up at him and muttered in a small voice, “Why are you being shy? We already are, we already are an old married couple.”

Xingyi bent down and took a bite of his cheek, then gentled his touch and pressed a soft kiss to the faint tooth mark. “But I still haven’t remembered, you little bad bird. Does that mean you’re quite experienced at this sort of thing?”

Little Phoenix looked up at him with bright eyes and said modestly, “About average, I’d say. Weijian, don’t make such a big deal of it — let me get up, will you?”

He squirmed and wriggled, wanting to get out of bed quickly and gather up his precious tears.

Xingyi gave him a few looks, and finally, with some reluctance, let Little Phoenix get up.

Little Phoenix dressed himself briskly, then turned his full attention back to the task, searching out the phoenix tears one by one. He also had Xingyi cooperate with him by stretching out his arms and turning in a circle on the spot so he could check whether any tears had been missed.

Little Phoenix hopped in place a couple of times and urged Xingyi on. “Not done yet, Weijian, not done yet — jump up and down a couple more times so I can see if there are any I’ve missed! Just one jump! Like this.” And he demonstrated by bouncing up and down.

Xingyi watched him bounce back and forth, and had the simultaneous impression of a round little chubby bird bouncing back and forth inside his head alongside him. He reached up and rubbed his temple.

Little Phoenix, with a sleeveful of phoenix tears, trotted after Xingyi the whole way, until Xingyi finally took him by the back of the collar and carried him to the smelting chamber.

The Star Disc was held down beneath it; the smelting chamber was calm and still now, with only the faint lingering smell of blood.

Xingyi set Little Phoenix down, told him to sit quietly by his side, then opened a divine weapons catalogue of his own accord. “Settle down and be quiet.”

With a faint movement of his wrist, his sleeve shifted slightly, revealing the deep gash on his right hand.

Little Phoenix wasn’t happy about it, but he dragged his small stool over and sat down beside Xingyi, tilting his head. “Weijian, why won’t you jump with me? If we’re missing even one phoenix tear, that’s a loss of a thousand spirit stones. I know you’re always saying Fuli Palace isn’t short on money, but we have salaries to pay the Star Officials — if we just spend without saving, the day will come when there’s nothing left. And jumping around feels really good too, it’s good for the body — Weijian, will you do morning exercises with me from now on?”

Xingyi imagined the scene of himself doing exercises alongside Little Phoenix, and refused cleanly and decisively. “No.”

Little Phoenix wilted again. He flipped through this and that, found a stack of weapon diagrams that Xingyi had discarded as failed drafts, and then asked Xingyi for a brush. “Weijian, I want to draw. Lend me a brush.”

So Xingyi selected a finely crafted jade-carved brush for him. Little Phoenix was just about to take it happily and start drawing when Xingyi switched it from his left hand to his right, reached out to hold Little Phoenix’s fingers, and guided his hand slowly through the brushstrokes. “What do you want to draw? How about a little bird — draw yourself.”

Little Phoenix poked the back of his hand. “I don’t want to draw myself. I want to draw a Weijian, and I also want to draw a jade rabbit.”

But Xingyi ignored him, guiding his hand through a loose, sketchy circle, then adding two small beady eyes. “See — that’s you.”

Little Phoenix protested. “That’s absurd. I may be a little plump, but I’m not that plump. Fine, since you’ve already finished drawing, hurry up and give the brush back to me, Weijian.”

Xingyi looked at him and gave a low “Mm.”

Little Phoenix didn’t notice anything. He took the brush happily and started on his drawing, and as he drew, he heard the sound of Xingyi flipping through pages — the pace seemed faster than usual, and the sound a little louder than normal.

“Weijian,” Little Phoenix said earnestly, “keep it down, don’t distract me.”

Xingyi let out a sigh, tossed the book aside without care, stood up, walked around behind Little Phoenix, and bent down to wrap his arms around him.

Little Phoenix, pressed down by him so suddenly, nearly sent the brush flying from his hand. Xingyi’s arms encircled his neck, and his voice sounded low near his ear, a little muffled. “I don’t want to be an old married couple. You may be an old married couple, but what about me?”

Little Phoenix had just opened his mouth to ask him what he meant — when he opened his eyes and saw the glaring wound on Xingyi’s right hand. He was startled. “Weijian! Why haven’t you treated that yourself? I told you yesterday to take care of it quickly!”

Xingyi, satisfied that he had finally noticed, released him and sat back in his place.

His tone was mild. “You were crying so hard yesterday that I didn’t tell you — suppressing the Star Disc requires a little of my blood. Don’t let the size of the wound alarm you; it doesn’t actually hurt much, and it doesn’t take a lot of blood. The blade used simply needs to share the same attributes as my curse arts — it must possess a killing property, so that the Star Disc can be stabilized. The only drawback is that the wound isn’t particularly easy to heal.”

Little Phoenix grew flustered and started rushing around, wanting to go out and ask the immortal maidens for a salve, but Xingyi pulled him back. Xingyi kissed the base of his ear and murmured, “I’m fine. Just stay with me, that’s enough.”

Little Phoenix glared at him. “Weijian, you’re talking rubbish.”

Xingyi: “…”

The little chubby bird rushed out, obtained the salve, then rushed back in, pressed Xingyi down into his chair and refused to let him move, knelt halfway before him, and applied the medicine carefully and thoroughly.

Xingyi looked down at his earnest expression, watching his slender, soft fingers, their pads touched with snow-white celestial herb salve, lightly dabbing it onto his wound.

This wound was hidden, unknown to the world — it concealed the secret of his gradually waning power. He had not originally intended to expose it, yet he did not know why — yesterday, when Little Phoenix had pushed back his sleeve, red-eyed and demanding he treat it, something in him had softened for a moment. A dangerous, childlike happiness.

He said, “I don’t want to be an old married couple. I still haven’t remembered anything. This is my first time falling in love with a little bird.”