“Lord Guan, I’ve grown up alone, with no one showing me kindness except when you sheltered me from rain. This year, I have new siblings. Please watch over them and ensure their safety… and lasting peace!” Mu Zhanting’s conspicuous wish-making drew attention. Satisfied, he kowtowed thrice before heading to draw a fortune slip.
At the peach tree behind the temple, where people hung safety charms, a crowd had gathered. Mu Zhanting grabbed a nearby worshipper and asked, “What’s happening?”
“Lord Guan has shown his divine power! Peach and plum blossoms have bloomed throughout the city. The old peach tree behind the temple is in full bloom—a miracle!”
Mu Zhanting looked up to see a misty pink cloud of blossoms contrasting beautifully with golden chrysanthemums below.
The Mid-Autumn Festival atmosphere in Kong City was heightened by this unusual spring-autumn spectacle. People jostled in the temple, eager to make wishes under the peach tree.
As a cultivator, Mu Zhanting was unaffected by the crowd’s pushing. Anticipating more people, he decided to hang his safety charm first.
An old monk in tattered robes was spun around by the crowd. Wealthy visitors, repulsed by his dusty, incense-tinged smell, frowned. “Old baldy, getaway! Don’t dirty my clothes.”
Seeing the monk stumble, Mu Zhanting steadied him. Noticing how frail the monk felt and observing the crowded courtyard, he led the old man to a nearby pavilion.
“Are you alright, venerable monk?”
“Thank you, young benefactor,” the toothless monk replied with a smile. “I’ve delayed your charm-hanging.”
“It’s fine. I just wanted to admire the miraculous peach blossoms and seek some fortune. If needed, the old elm at the entrance will do,” Mu Zhanting said, playing with his charm. “Why aren’t you begging on the streets? It’s Mid-Autumn Festival—surely you’d have better luck there than here where everyone’s donating to Lord Guan?”
The monk chuckled, “These blossoms are as good as half a bowl of alms. Are you a cultivator, young friend?”
“Are you one too?” Mu Zhanting asked, sensing something different about the monk despite his beggar-like appearance.
“This old monk’s dharma name is Chiku. I once dabbled in cultivation,” the monk replied.
“Say that again—what’s your name?”
“This old monk’s dharma name is Chiku,” he repeated, smiling. “Young friend, I’m skilled at reading faces. Would you like to form a karmic bond?”
Mu Zhanting rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’ve been to countless temples. Eight out of ten say I’ll escape death and achieve greatness.”
The monk nodded, “Your face indeed shows this, with a deadly trial approaching soon.”
Mu Zhanting, about to mention his recent near-miss, instead asked, “I know I face many trials. As long as they don’t harm those around me… Do you have a way to resolve them?”
“This old monk has two items that can help,” the monk said, first producing a worn string of prayer beads. “Young benefactor, with your talent, the best way to avoid calamity is to renounce worldly troubles and join the—”
“Next,” Mu Zhanting interrupted.
The monk sighed and addressed the beads, “Oh, old treasure, everyone knows detachment is valuable, yet no one wants it.” He continued, “Recently, a friend of mine passed away, asking me to return her love tokens. I’ve returned three, but this last one… its owner has a fierce temper. Would you be willing to take on this task?”
Mu Zhanting wondered why there were four love tokens but was distracted when the monk produced a seemingly priceless item.
“This is the Blood Phoenix Hairpin, once a betrothal gift from the Dragon Lord of Chen State. If returned, you might contend for the position of Chen State’s heir,” the monk explained, adding quickly as Mu Zhanting hesitated, “Don’t worry—the hairpin seems willing to accept you as its temporary master. Also, if you don’t go to Chen State to compete, you can keep it.”
Mu Zhanting asked suspiciously, “Sounds too good. Do you have some clever plan?”
The monk looked confused, “Clever plan?”
“If you don’t understand that, you must not read much,” Mu Zhanting remarked. “Let’s be clear: if I take it, I’ll keep it for ten years. If I can’t build my foundation by then, I’ll give it to my sister as a dowry. Still want to give it to me?”
The monk’s eyes flashed with understanding. “It’s… good that you want it.”
Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside the temple. People rushed out, shouting, “The roadside plum trees are bearing fruit! They’re celestial fruits—hurry and pick them!”
The crowd surged, spinning Mu Zhanting around. When he regained his bearings, the old monk had vanished, leaving only a faint sigh:
“Peach and plum blossom out of season… a world-class master must be here. Well, time to leave for now.”
Mu Zhanting, puzzled by the Blood Phoenix Hairpin in his hand, looked at the peach tree. Feeling sympathy for its sudden neglect, he bought two incense sticks. As he was about to offer them, he spotted two figures behind the blossoms.
He recognized Qi Yang’s back as he flirted with a woman carrying an offering basket of roast chicken. The woman, enchanted, said, “I’ll give you anything you want, even myself—”
Just as she was ready to follow him like Chang’e to the moon, a gruff voice interrupted:
“Qi Yang, what are you doing?”
… Who’s that?
Yin Ya had planned to cause trouble in Huigu tonight, but the unseasonable blooming in Kong City nourished his demon power, making him want to stay. Plus, demons rarely practiced fasting. He’d soon grown hungry and was about to snatch some offerings when someone interrupted him.
“Why did you change clothes? Isn’t A Yan with you?”
Yin Ya, annoyed at being pulled away, was about to protest when he spotted the Blood Phoenix Hairpin in Mu Zhanting’s hand. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
A celestial treasure!
For a moment, Yin Ya thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But upon closer inspection, he confirmed that an unbound celestial treasure was casually held by a mere Qi Refining cultivator.
“Ah… A Yan and I got separated,” Yin Ya struggled to tear his gaze from the Blood Phoenix Hairpin. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, that’s fine. She grew up here in Kong City; kidnappers wouldn’t be interested in someone like her,” Mu Zhanting said, waving the hairpin. “An old monk insisted on giving me this hairpin. If I fail to detoxify this time, I’ll leave it as A Yan’s dowry. It’s a gesture from us as her brothers. Since I’m too embarrassed to face her mother, would you give it to her for me?”
Yin Ya pushed away the woman still entangled in his illusion and nodded eagerly, “Of course, brother. Whatever you say.”
“Good brother,” Mu Zhanting patted his shoulder emotionally. “I know you treat A Yan the best. She’s going home, and we might not see her again. Heaven has blessed us with these peach blossoms today. Let’s become sworn brothers one last time. We may not die together in the future, but today, we’ll be blood brothers.”
Yin Ya, regretting his limited knowledge of human idioms, focused on how to escape with the treasure. Before he knew it, Mu Zhanting had forced him onto a prayer mat.
Kneeling on the adjacent mat, Mu Zhanting hesitated, “Ah A Yan is so sentimental. Let’s not call her; it’ll only make her cry. We’ll use something to represent her.”
Yin Ya watched as Mu Zhanting looked around, then grabbed a large pig’s head from the offering table. He placed it on a mat between them, affectionately patting its ears.
“As they say, ‘We may not be born on the same day, in the same month, in the same year, but let’s die on the same day, in the same month, in the same year,'” Mu Zhanting wiped away a tear like a doting father. After spending so much time with Nan Yan, even a pig’s head seemed beautiful to him. He hugged it tightly, sighing, “A Yan, the path of immortality is long. Your brothers, Zhanting and Qi Yang, must leave now, but we’ll always remember having you as a sister.”
— If I were your sister, I’d disown you right now.
After his emotional moment, Mu Zhanting said to Yin Ya, “Brother, let’s kowtow.”
… No, we fox spirits have dignity. We can’t become sworn brothers with a pig’s head!
As Yin Ya wrestled with this dilemma, Mu Zhanting noticed his blank stare and asked, “Are you also reluctant to face her? I feel the same… Never mind, I’ll return this item myself—”
Before he could finish, Yin Ya kowtowed three times, so forcefully that the nearby peach tree shook, scattering petals. The young man’s gaze was determined… with a hint of tears.
“Did you hear? Was that loud enough?”
…
“Achoo!” Nan Yan had been sneezing the entire way. For some reason, she felt an inexplicable urge to perish alongside Mu Zhanting before severing ties with the immortal realm.
“Still not over it?” Qi Yang, carrying snacks in one hand, stopped and touched Nan Yan’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Cultivators shouldn’t be troubled by colds. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone’s cursing me.”
By now, she and Qi Yang had explored two marketplaces. She talked, and he listened. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Nan Yan finally sensed a hint of warmth in Qi Yang’s demeanor.
Soon, they arrived at the city’s most bustling lantern market.
On both sides of the street, elaborate buildings were adorned with decorations. Lanterns illuminated the night, while the clinking of cups and plates mingled with the soft singing of courtesans and the recitations of scholars, creating a lively atmosphere.
Upon entering the lantern market, Nan Yan became like an unbridled horse, dragging Qi Yang from one end of the street to the other. When they finally paused at a tempting osmanthus cake stall, Qi Yang, staring at her puffed cheeks, couldn’t help but ask:
“You took a fasting pill just yesterday. Aren’t you worried about indigestion?”
“I’m still growing. Don’t worry!” Nan Yan picked up a warm osmanthus cake and shoved a piece into his hand. Then she pulled him to a stall and stopped.
An artisan was crafting puppet dolls, meticulously drawing various opera characters. One doll, a chubby girl holding a candied haw stick, could be worn as a hand puppet.
… More importantly, the plump doll bore a striking resemblance to Nan Yan.
Nan Yan glanced at the doll, then at Qi Yang, her eyes full of eagerness.
Seeing her hands full of food, Qi Yang felt he shouldn’t indulge her further and reminded her, “At this rate, even the largest qiankun bag won’t be able to hold everything.”
“Fine, we won’t buy it then.” Though she didn’t purchase the doll, Nan Yan still pulled Qi Yang to an open space to watch the puppet show together.
“When my mother and I used to live here, we’d come to watch puppet shows during every festival. Should I borrow a small puppet and show you a somersault?”
Noticing it was already midnight, Qi Yang took the items from her hands and said, “As long as you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Great!”
During an intermission, Nan Yan borrowed the candied haw girl doll and a young scholar puppet. She began improvising dialogue enthusiastically.
“…In the blink of an eye, the hero sheltered the little girl behind him and shouted, ‘How dare you, villains!'”
“With a swing of his sword, the mountain bandits were defeated or fled. The hero told the little girl, ‘If anyone bullies you in the future, just mention my name, Long Aotian!'”
“With that, the hero swished his sleeve and rode away on his sword… away… away…”
The hero puppet “galloped” the length of a chubby arm before Nan Yan gently set it down, leaving only the plump candied haw girl puppet on her right hand.
Qi Yang, resting his face on his hand, asked, “Is it over?”
“Not yet.” Nan Yan puffed her cheeks and continued in a singsong voice, “The hero saved me but left me alone with lovesickness. Dear audience, do you think he likes me?”
Qi Yang was taken aback as the little doll used its candied haw to cover its face and asked him:
“Quick, tell me, does he like me?”
As the doll came close to his face, its puppeteer insisting on hiding behind it, Qi Yang paused before a gentle smile spread across his lips.
“Yes, he likes you.”
Nan Yan lowered the doll, her smile as bright as the puppet’s.
“If he likes me, why doesn’t he take me home?”
“…”
For a moment, the surrounding clamor seemed to slow down. After a brief pause, Qi Yang shook his head with a smile and said, “You just wanted to buy it all along, didn’t you?”
“Just this one, please.”
“As you wish.”
With Qi Yang’s approval, Nan Yan excitedly went to purchase the small puppet. As she was paying, she noticed the audience stirring and everyone looking towards the peach and plum trees lining the road, pointing and discussing animatedly.
“Shao Cang, it’s not spring yet. How are the peach and plum blossoms…” Nan Yan, holding Qi Yang’s hand, was about to ask when he gripped her hand tightly.
Looking up, Nan Yan saw Qi Yang’s profile, cold as ice, and she fell silent.
“Peach and plum blossoms out of season… a sign that a world-class master is here. Could it be him personally?” Qi Yang murmured.