GWID Chapter 44

After thinking for a long time, Little Phoenix was somewhat puzzled. “But Weijian, we were the same way originally — I only dated you for fifteen days before we got married. I’ve always done things like that, and I felt perfectly fine about it.”

Xingyi gave him a look. “I don’t care. This is my first time in a relationship.”

Little Phoenix thought for a moment, appearing a little troubled.

He was still half-kneeling on the ground and hadn’t gotten up. After finishing applying the ointment to Xingyi, he wrapped the wound with freshly washed divine banana leaves, then bandaged it layer by layer with silk cloth.

His attention was quickly drawn back to the matter at hand, and he shamelessly fished for Xingyi’s praise. “See, my hands are very nimble. My bandaging technique is never stiff or bulky — it won’t get in the way of anything you do.”

Xingyi looked it over, then asked, “Where did you learn that?”

Little Phoenix climbed to his feet, tidied everything up, then dragged his little stool over and sat down beside him. “I learned it at the pleasure house. Everything men are supposed to know, I know; everything women are supposed to know, I know too. Back then, a little friend of mine got chickenpox — his whole body was scratched raw and oozing, and even the physician didn’t want to see him. I went over to take care of him myself, helped clean his wounds and sores, bandaged them up and applied medicinal patches, and he recovered very quickly.”

There was no need for Xingyi to ask what a pleasure house was — he naturally knew. Watching Little Phoenix enthusiastically pick up his brush to continue painting, Xingyi nudged him with his elbow again.

Little Phoenix cried out. “Weijian, you’ve smudged my painting again! Don’t blame me when I end up painting you as some hideous monster!”

Xingyi ignored him. His gaze remained fixed on the manuscript before him, but his mouth asked, in an apparently careless tone. “At the pleasure house — did they ever teach anyone how to be in a relationship?”

Little Phoenix was a little confused. “No… I don’t think so. They only taught us how to seduce people, and how to please them.”

Xingyi thought for a moment. “Seducing and pleasing — that doesn’t seem all that different from being in a relationship. Tell me about it. I’ve never learned any of this.”

He nudged Little Phoenix with his elbow again. “Tell me, Little Yuan Yuan.”

Little Phoenix chewed on his brush handle and looked over, seeming to be searching his memory. “Hmm… there’s what goes on in the bedchamber, and what goes on in daily life. Which do you want to hear?”

Xingyi rapped him on the head. “What do you think?”

Little Phoenix looked at him with some anticipation. “Weijian, do you want to hear the bedchamber one?”

Xingyi rapped him again. Only then did Little Phoenix reluctantly change course, recalling each point one by one. “First is catering to their tastes — you have to remember clearly what the other person likes and what they’re sensitive about. You have to coax and pamper them day to day, and never touch any of their sore spots. Second, you have to let the other person know that you’re good to them — give seven parts, but make them feel ten. Third, you have to let them know that while you care deeply about them, there are also others who care about you — that way they’ll feel a sense of urgency, and be willing to throw money at you.”

Xingyi frowned. “That doesn’t seem to be how you treat me. I like skipping morning court, and yet you, you little troublemaker, wake me up every single day.”

Little Phoenix placed one hand in his and leaned against him. “That’s because you’re different from everyone else. All of those are tricks for deceiving people’s feelings in the world of romance — ways to enchant and mislead. They’re very wicked. Weijian, don’t learn any of that, and I promise I won’t act that way toward you either. I like you, and I want to be genuinely good to you — not just to please you.”

Xingyi looked at those bright, shining eyes, and seemed a little at a loss himself. “Then… what should I do?”

Little Phoenix glanced at him, then suddenly straightened up and focused intently on his painting, ignoring him entirely. Xingyi waited for a long time with no response, until suddenly a small paper ball came flying his way — thwap — landing right beside his hand.

Xingyi unfolded it. Little Phoenix had written: “How to court a little bird is not something you can ask the little bird about — that would be far too passive. Weijian, why are you so silly? Little birds all hope their husbands can give them surprises.”

Xingyi stared at it for a moment. “Surprises?”

He murmured quietly, “I’ve never liked unexpected things. On the battlefield, things change in an instant — the unexpected must never occur. Surprises, those unplanned things — I don’t like them. Besides, they seem pointless.”

Little Phoenix tossed over another paper ball and turned his head away with a “hmph,” refusing to look at him.

His face was arranged in displeasure, but the note continued its patient persuasion: “On your birthday, surely you wouldn’t want me to tell you in advance that I’d prepared a box of peaches for you, would you?”

Reading this, Xingyi suddenly remembered — it seemed his twenty-thousandth birthday was only a few days away.

Since leaving the mountain, people had celebrated his birthday every year — orchestrated by the Jade Emperor himself, with all the four seas offering their congratulations, and an uncountable stream of gifts arriving at Fuli Palace from across Jiuzhou. Perhaps some of those gifts also carried a wish for him to show leniency with the Star Disc. But Xingyi, the birthday star himself, never attended, never looked at any of the gifts — they were piled up gathering dust in the chambers of Fuli Palace.

He did not like surprises.

He did not want them. He never had.

But… this little bird had just said — his twenty-thousandth birthday gift was already prepared, and it was a box of peaches?

Peaches were precious, of course, but what rarity hadn’t Fuli Palace seen? Even lianshi fruit was picked by the basketful there, and it had once nearly provoked the phoenix clan into raising an army to seize Fuli Palace. He knew full well that Little Phoenix had spent a hundred years moonlighting at the Queen Mother’s — getting his hands on peaches would be effortless.

This little round bird was going to mark his twenty-thousandth birthday with a few peaches?

Xingyi grabbed Little Phoenix’s hand. “Peaches?”

Little Phoenix confirmed earnestly. “Peaches. That’s right, Weijian — you know me, I’m a poor phoenix. That box of peaches is what I saved up while doing deliveries. There were originally six, but I couldn’t help myself and ate one yesterday, so there are five left. I’m thinking we should hold the birthday banquet a few days early — I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself from eating them all, and then you’ll have nothing. Weijian, now that I mention it, I’m kind of craving one again. Can I have one peach in advance and eat it today? That would leave you with four peaches.”

Xingyi stared at him.

Little Phoenix blinked his bright eyes at him, and after a moment — poof — transformed into a little bird. Round and plump, he hopped onto Xingyi’s knee, then buried his fluffy little head in Xingyi’s palm and nuzzled against it. This little snow-white round ball swallowed, then continued to negotiate. “Look, what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. If I give it to you and then give it back to me, what’s the difference? Weijian, I’ve thought it over — how about I give you these four peaches right now, and then you give them to me to eat. Would that be alright?”

Xingyi: “……”

He took a deep breath, rubbed his temples, reached out, and swept the little round bird off his knee. “Go outside and play.”

Little Phoenix’s tiny bead-like eyes were filled with concern. He flapped his little wings and tilted his head. “What’s wrong, Weijian? Are you feeling unwell?”

Xingyi picked him up and tossed him gently outward — Little Phoenix rode the momentum and took flight, chirping a few times, then continued to watch him with great concern.

Xingyi said, “You really — you make my head ache.”

In the end, he hadn’t been able to get the correct method of courtship out of Little Phoenix. Not only that, but he had unexpectedly learned ahead of time that Little Phoenix had prepared several peaches as his birthday gift.

Why did he find himself caring so much about such a gift?

Xingyi had never been someone prone to tangling himself in his own thoughts. What he couldn’t work out, he left alone — just as he had seen many stars trap themselves in their own webs and become malevolent or destructive stars. He knew all too well what the consequences of that were.

He watched Little Phoenix run outside to play, then closed the doors and windows once more and activated the Star Disc.

Thousands upon thousands of dazzling specks of light suddenly surfaced, then flared and dimmed, flickering and rising and falling — as though they breathed, like something alive.

This method of bloodletting was not one he had used before. Blood, plainly put, was part of flesh and bone. He was sacrificing his physical body, drop by drop, to the Star Disc — rather than suppressing and subduing it through cultivation alone, as he had before. Sometimes Xingyi felt that the Star Disc was like a being with consciousness, watching over every quiet change and moment of hesitation within him, seizing its opportunity when his mind was unsettled or he was lost in deep sleep.

It was a companion that had been with him for tens of thousands of years — he knew the Star Disc the way he knew himself. Before Little Phoenix, only this Star Disc had kept him company day after day, enduring the scorching summers and bitter winters alongside him. Yet it was also an enemy that had watched him with predatory patience for those same ten thousand years. They were bound to each other, each the other’s bane — the signs had first appeared long ago, from the time when all the ancient gods had fallen and he alone survived.

If an end were to come, it would be either your death or mine.

The Star Disc had been suppressed by his blood for over ten hours, and now it showed signs of restless turbulence once more. Xingyi found the leaf-blade again and was about to avoid the wound Little Phoenix had already bandaged, choosing a more concealed spot to make a new cut and draw blood — when he suddenly paused.

That little bird slept with him every night and occasionally bathed with him. If another wound were to appear on his body, Little Phoenix would notice, and he would certainly weep and fret over him again.

He loved watching him cry over him — in a somewhat wicked, rather bad way, he loved it — and yet he also felt a pang of tenderness. The feeling was contradictory. He didn’t know what to make of it.

This mortal kind of love — it seemed beautiful. But how long could it last? He had seen many lovers come together and fall apart, turning against one another or living in harmony. Whichever it was, the old him would only have laughed. He knew that love existed in the world, but that had never stopped him from once wielding an all-consuming fire and burning to ash a pair of lovers who would sooner die than be parted.

That had been many years ago. Nuwa had sent a descendant of the Tushan clan to seduce a mortal emperor, and in the end the realm had fallen into chaos. He had then heeded Nuwa’s request and stepped forward to sweep away the evil. It was the first time he had witnessed love firsthand — learned that love could shake the world, drive people to die together, and yet also vanish without a trace in an instant.

Emotions made people weak, helpless, lowly. The feelings of mortals were as insignificant as dust.

Feelings were of no use.

And yet now he was about to take up this useless thing. For the first time in ten thousand years, something had slipped beyond his control.

Xingyi looked at the wound on his wrist, his throat moving slightly. Little Phoenix’s bright, shining eyes kept surfacing in his mind — as though Little Phoenix were right beside him at this very moment, watching him, softly calling his name, “Weijian.” His gaze, passing through the wound, took on a sweet-and-sour, faintly numbing quality. The Star Disc grew more and more restless, and his consciousness and qi wavered again. In a daze, he faintly caught the clean fragrance of bamboo leaves, while the shadow in his vision grew clearer and clearer — like that dusk when the nightmare had seized him — and the voice that had once asked him a question fell silent.

The world split into red and white. Little Phoenix stood there, eyes curved in a smile, his gaze clear and bright, and said to him: “Weijian.”

At the same moment, the blade came down — deep, cutting straight into his previous wound. Old and new injuries overlapped; the skin and flesh that had begun to heal tore open and bled again. The divine weapon in his hand was cold as ten-thousand-year ice, turning his blood into red ice as it congealed.

Xingyi’s clarity returned, and the vision before his eyes dissolved.

There had originally been four cuts on his arm. Xingyi looked them over, then carefully lifted the silk bandage Little Phoenix had wrapped around him, and drove the blade down again over the old wound — a second time, a third time, cutting so deep it nearly reached bone. But as long as the bleeding stopped, no one would be able to tell these were new injuries; they would simply assume the old ones were slow to heal.

He exhaled slowly. After the blood dried, he re-wrapped the silk bandage with one hand, then used a damp silk cloth to wipe away the blood around the wound. Then he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and rested for a moment. Only after the dizziness from blood loss and the damage the divine weapon had dealt to his very bones had passed did he open his eyes again.

His gaze fell back on the paper ball Little Phoenix had written for him.

Just then, there were two knocks at the door — it was the chief fairy attendant, bringing tea.

He let her in, then instructed, “Bring me Yuan Yuan’s storage ring.”

The chief fairy attendant thought nothing of it. Little Phoenix’s small bundle had always been in her keeping. Xingyi asked, so she singled it out and brought it to him.

Xingyi moved his fingers slightly, and the storage ring clicked open with a snap, revealing its contents. Little Phoenix had accumulated quite a bit during his time here — unspent pocket money, collected phoenix tears, and a large pile of miscellaneous goods that were probably stock he and the Golden-Winged Bird had been stockpiling together for their business ventures. Beyond all that clutter, Xingyi also found a heap of worn-down celestial odds and ends — bark from an ancient divine tree, shell-tears marked with scratches.

After searching for quite a while, he finally found Little Phoenix’s five peaches — while Little Phoenix had neatly packed even his junk into small wooden boxes, sorted by category, these few peaches had simply been tossed in loose.

Not even a small wooden box for his own birthday gift?

With that thought, Xingyi arranged the five plump, sweet peaches in a row, then said to the fairy attendant with full gravity. “There’s no need to prepare my portion for dinner.”

The fairy attendant asked in confusion, “Then what will you eat, Your Majesty?”

Xingyi pointed to the table, his tone carrying every ounce of his authority. “I’ll eat the peaches. Go tell Yuan Yuan to think of a new gift to give me.”