Chapter 681: The Divine Bird

In the night, the branches and leaves of the ancient catalpa tree stirred without wind.

Two glowing pale lights drifted down from the canopy—exactly the Zhao Ming luans the Qiyi Spring Pavilion had seen before.

Their plumage, resplendent with hues, shimmered under the moonlight; clearly, they had sensed the sword intent left by the Second Master within you, and followed its trail.

Ancient texts record: if twin luans choose as one, the bearer must be a born sage, endowed with supreme truth, goodness, and sanctity.

During the day at the Spring Pavilion, you deliberately wrapped the nine sword qi in pure yang primordial spirit to avoid drawing attention; on the carriage ride, you deliberately loosened the restraint—and these divine birds followed you all the way here.

“You’re quite clever,” you chuckled. While the courtyard had been noisy earlier, they had known to conceal their forms—only appearing now.

The two luans now gently pecked at your robe, hopping with affection.

Suddenly, you sensed something unusual—

The moment they landed on your shoulders, the Yang Fu Jing within you began flowing with unprecedented smoothness; the medicinal power of the Xuantian Snow Dew Pill accelerated its dissolution, like ice rivers meeting spring.

The qi within your body surged violently!

Your cultivation speed, originally tripled, surged again the instant the Zhao Ming luans settled; golden true qi from the Yang Fu Jing surged like molten lava, primordial qi raced like a torrent—speed doubled!

No time to ponder!

“Hm?”

Rarely did you show surprise,

Until your qi mingled with the pale glow swirling around the luans’ wings.

The two Zhao Ming luans grew even more exuberant; their originally snowy feathers now shimmered with a gilded luster, as if steeped in your pure yang primordial spirit. The colorful patterns on their tail feathers grew brighter, each wingbeat scattering fine golden specks.

You clearly perceived their pure thoughts—a near-dependency of closeness, like a fledgling’s first recognition of its closest kin.

“Is this… bonding?” you murmured softly.

As if understanding your words, the two luans suddenly let out clear, long cries. One gently nuzzled your chin; the other rolled on the ground like a child, exposing its fluffy belly, its glassy eyes brimming with delight.

You suddenly recalled Su Yun’s tale: Zhao Ming luans choose a master once every hundred years; once bonded, they share lifespan and cultivation, never betraying—should the master die, the Zhao Ming luans follow them into death.

Night wind brushed the courtyard; catalpa leaves rustled. The shadow of one man and two luans stretched long under the moon.

After the divine birds chose you, you discovered another marvel.

You could now “share vision” with the two divine birds—their sight appeared directly in your mind.

You willed it: send the male luan out of the Xie Fu. The Zhao Ming luan, famed for its speed, vanished into the horizon in an instant.

Bianjing unfolded before your “eyes”: the night market on Zhuque Street buzzed with voices, bronze bells atop the imperial palace towers chimed in the wind, even the faint sound of willow branches brushing the water’s surface along the water-control river reached you.

Within mere breaths, the white shadow returned to the courtyard. You stroked its feathers, astonished by this divine ability.

First, it enhances cultivation speed: by this calculation, the primordial spirit energy that once took a year to accumulate was now compressed into half a year, and you could even draw upon the birds’ power to replenish yourself.

Second: shared vision!

These two clearly just left the fledgling stage—their minds like three-year-old children, yet already resonating with your primordial spirit.

“Ji—”

One plucked a colorful feather and placed it in your palm; the other rolled a lapis lazuli gemstone onto your hand from some unknown place.

You laughed silently. These little creatures were clearly offering treasures to win your favor.

You continued your cultivation; the night passed in silence.

The next day!

As dawn’s first light touched the courtyard, you stood facing east; threads of purple qi drawn by the Yang Fu Jing slipped into your third eye, gilding your body with a hazy glow.

“Squeak—”

Wu Tong pushed open the door, rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly disheveled. Last night’s absurd dream had left her ears burning—she had dreamed she wore a wedding gown and bowed to heaven and earth with the Young Master!

“Huh?”

She suddenly widened her eyes. On the stone table, two majestic birds lay on their backs, bellies exposed, breathing rhythmically as if utterly content.

“Young Master! These birds…”

“Found them on the road. They’re ours now.”

Wu Tong “oh”ed, then pulled a silk handkerchief from her sleeve and gently draped it over the two luans’ bellies. The Zhao Ming luans tugged the edges upward with their claws, emitting contented “jiji” sounds.

Wu Tong, charmed, couldn’t resist poking the soft, fluffy down with her finger.

You were secretly astonished—these creatures, normally hostile to strangers, had even repelled the colorful phoenix that had raised them for years; merely approaching would earn a piercing cry. Yet now, they rolled and cooed in Wu Tong’s palm—where was their divine dignity?

Why? You did not understand.

Wu Tong played with the two Zhao Ming luans, her eyes curved like crescent moons, revealing a rare, radiant smile. Seeing her joy, you let the three of them frolic in the courtyard, not troubling yourself with the reason.

“Young Master, what should we name them?”

You thought a moment. “They have no names. Let’s give them some.”

You looked at the two birds: white-crowned male, red-crowned female.

Yet after one night together, the female constantly cared for the male—the red-crowned female groomed the male’s feathers, while the male was far more playful.

Your gaze shifted between them, then you smiled faintly.

“How about naming the female Ah-Jie, and the male Young Master?”

Wu Tong burst out laughing: “Who ever heard of a bird called Young Master?”

“Ji!”

“Jiu—”

The two birds seemed to sense it—they leapt from the table and landed on your left and right shoulders.

The named birds suddenly took flight; the next moment, “Ah-Jie” settled steadily on your left shoulder, her tail feathers trailing like a silk sash, while “Young Master” wobbled onto your right shoulder, then rubbed his head against your cheek, making Wu Tong laugh.

After noon, the sunlight grew warmer.

The pair of divine birds understood human ways perfectly: whenever strangers approached, they vanished quietly or flew off to forage, behaving exactly like ordinary birds, drawing no attention. You couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—truly, celestial beings; no need for care, they fed themselves, never burdened you.

Wu Tong had been anxious at first, frequently glancing toward the courtyard gate, fearing Lady Zhao would arrive with clan elders to demand justice.

But as the sun sank, the Xie Fu remained utterly calm.

You, meanwhile, remained composed, as usual reading and practicing calligraphy, your brush flowing like dragons, your mind clear.

“Young Master…” Wu Tong finally approached, “Why would Lady Zhao let us off so easily? Could it be…”

“No matter. We’ll meet force with force, water with earth.”

The lack of reaction from the second courtyard—even from the Old Lady—seemed to dismiss it as ordinary. But you knew: this was merely the calm before the storm.

A single day passed in an instant!

Lately, the Xie Fu had been decorated with lanterns and festoons, brimming with joy—for Fourth Cousin Xie Ying would marry Sima Ting at the Xie household tomorrow.

Crimson lanterns hung everywhere in the Xie Fu; beneath the corridors, maids hurried with brocade rolls. Tomorrow was the auspicious wedding day of Xie Ying and Sima Ting; since noon, wedding gift carriages from the Nine Great Families of Bianjing had streamed in continuously, a magnificent scene.

At that time, prominent figures from the Nine Great Families of Bianjing would all attend this grand banquet.

You too would attend the wedding; recalling how, when your mother was alive, Fourth Cousin often visited, and especially after your mother’s passing, she had shown you and Wu Tong much care.

Such kindness must never be forgotten.

Wu Tong was away today, helping Lu Ya.

Today, Hu Yunniang and the other courtesans came to visit, speaking of recent events in Bianjing.

Zhang Yuanlai came too, with his current wife, Feng Yayi.

The two had married just days ago, in a simple ceremony with only close friends and relatives.

You, too, had sent a rare gift: a painting and calligraphy.

After leaving Xixiang Lou, Hu Yunniang and the others ran a restaurant, receiving guests, and gathered much news from the Thirteen Provinces.

Hu Yunniang worried, “Refugees from all regions are converging on Jiangnan Province; the Crimson-Eyed Army already numbers a million.”

Zhang Yuanlai added, “Many professors in the Academy have been ordered by the Third Master to go to Jiangnan to assist the Duke of Dingyuan—the situation there is clearly grim.”

You found this odd: how many years had passed since the Academy last mobilized its professors to garrison the Thirteen Provinces?

Chen Xiang nodded. “So many people have come to Bianjing—merchants and warlords from every region are fleeing here for safety.”

Chen Xiang chimed brightly: “Strange, isn’t it? We thought war and chaos would ruin business, yet our Bianjing restaurants are making a fortune.”

Hu Yunniang added, “I heard from sisters at Xixiang Lou that Yuehua Xuan’s doors have been worn down these past days—rich merchants fleeing from the south spend fortunes every night buying pleasure. The madam at Yuehua Xuan can’t stop smiling.”

Zhou Yuner lowered her voice, a flicker of dread in her eyes: “The other day, a southern merchant told me he saw children being traded for food on the road. Those so-called ‘vegetable meat’ shops…” Her voice trembled, “Bodies piled like kitchen refuse; the butchers who carved them up grew fat and pale—the stench of blood lingered for three days.”

Zhang Yuanlai’s expression darkened; his teacup trembled slightly: “In times of chaos, the common folk always suffer most.” He gazed toward the northwest, deep furrows forming on his brow: “I wonder… how is my hometown in Longxi Province now?”

Feng Yayi gently placed her hand over his. “At least we’re safe in Bianjing, under the Academy’s protection, guarded by the Jingshen Array.”

“When the court quells the rebellion, we can return home.”

Zhou Yuner pulled her sleeves tighter. “The gates of Bianjing are precious now. I heard… one entry permit…”

She held up three slender fingers. “Has been auctioned for three thousand taels of silver.”

Hu Yunniang sighed. “Buying supplies has become harder every day—rice and grain prices keep rising. Now, a dou of rice…”

She shook her head, bitter. “Costs more than three dous did before. Every morning market is inflated—prices exist, but goods vanish.”

“If not for the old ties with Yuehua Xuan and the Nine Great Families, and a few backdoor channels…”

She lowered her voice, a shadow of worry in her eyes: “Our kitchen fire would’ve gone out long ago.”

“Today, I’ve brought some fine rice for Master Guan. Please don’t refuse.”

You nodded in acceptance; Wu Tong had also saved up plenty these past days, going to the morning market daily.

Hu Yunniang held true gratitude for Master Guan; at the time of the Qunfang Banquet, she had already resolved to die if she didn’t make the top ten.

Without Master Guan’s poems, she could never have escaped Yuehua Xuan—she had never forgotten that debt.

In truth, after the Qunfang Banquet, the Nine Great Families deliberately suppressed it, and the Academy remained ambiguous. Added to the sudden rebellion of the Crimson-Eyed Army in Jiangnan, the situation grew turbulent.

Otherwise, with those poems that swept Bianjing, Master Guan would long ago have entered the Hanlin Academy, joined the Academy, ascended to prominence, and marched unimpeded toward officialdom.

Lately, rumors have spread wildly: that Xie Guan will enter the Li family as a son-in-law, yet the Li family has repeatedly delayed the wedding—clearly intending humiliation, obvious to any who see it.

The former glory that had dazzled all at the Banquet of Blossoms now seemed like a joke. Whispers spread through streets and alleys; some mocked him, “Though his poetry is fine, he cannot escape his lowborn origins,” while others secretly speculated, “He must have offended some noble, hence his fall.”

Xie Guan remained the inconspicuous illegitimate son of the Xie household, as if the poems that had swept through Bianjing and the acclaim he once enjoyed had never existed.

The literati who once came seeking him out, eager to befriend him, had gradually vanished.

What was once a gate thronged with visitors had become a gate where birds could pass unchallenged—such is the world’s coldness.

Hu Yunniang and the others never changed. They still visited often, speaking with no trace of contempt, even more sincere than before.

Zhou Yuner sighed softly: “I wonder when this war will end. If grain prices rise again, ordinary folk won’t be able to make ends meet.”

You listened to these words and nodded in silence. Smoke had already risen beyond the city walls; the grain prices in Bianjing would surely rise threefold by day’s end.

Zhang Yuan suddenly grew serious: “Master Hu, times are turbulent. Since Zuijiang Pavilion is the foremost tavern on Changning Street, you ought to hire more martial guards.”

Hu Yunniang smiled: “How fortuitous—I was just planning to do that.”

“Many martial artists are coming to Bianjing lately, and several of them are upright souls—we’ve already taken them on.”

In the afternoon, Hu Yunniang and her party took their leave.

You returned to your quiet chamber to continue your cultivation. With two Zhaoming Lu assisting you, your progress was faster than ever.

The next morning, as dawn broke, you rose and dressed.

Outside, a light drizzle had begun to fall!

Today was the day Xie Wan’s fourth cousin married; the Daguan Garden would be bustling with activity.

You straightened your robes, took up a bamboo umbrella, and stepped out.

You expected trouble, but the sons of the main household all avoided you, keeping their distance; the descendants of the second branch cast cold glances your way, often snorting in disdain, none approaching.

You did not meet Xie Yuan, who had to go to the main hall of Daguan Garden to pay respects to the Old Matriarch.

You were alone, and found a certain peace. You waited at the entrance to Daguan Garden; the steward did not stop you, but his expression was cold, his gaze distant.

You entered the lakeside area to wait for the boat to take you into Daguan Garden.

Once, you had fished up three characters from this very lake. Now, returning to this place, your heart felt profoundly different—bittersweet.

The fine rain, like smoke, veiled the vermilion railings and painted eaves of Daguan Garden in a hazy blur.

You stood by the lake, umbrella in hand, raindrops slowly falling from the bamboo ribs.

Lost in thought, you suddenly heard footsteps drawing near—a group arrived through the rain, fragrant robes and coiffed hair, laughter and chatter bright.

(End of Chapter)