Chapter 32: Zhao You

Inside the He family mansion.

A muffled thud— a ceramic jar sitting on the windowsill shattered on impact.

“Who’s there?!”

The kitchen maid spun around, tray in hand, ready to scold— but saw no one who had knocked over the jar. Only a pair of black-and-white wings flapped out the window, soaring over the eaves and landing on a plum tree beside the courtyard wall.

“Just a magpie…” the kitchen maid sighed helplessly. Since no one had knocked over the jar, there was no one to blame— she could only consider herself unlucky.

She set down her wooden serving tray, bent to gather the scattered shards. There were many such jars in the mansion, typically used to store pickled bamboo shoots, string beans, sour cabbage, and the like.

One dish at today’s wedding banquet was Hakka-style sour cabbage and bamboo shoot stir-fried with cured pork; dozens of tables’ worth left row upon row of empty jars stacked in the kitchen— it was no surprise one had been knocked over by stray cats or birds.

Besides, the kitchen maid wasn’t even that angry. A magpie flying into the courtyard on a wedding day was surely a good omen.

She swept the shards into a basket, stood upright, and gazed at the magpie perched on the plum branch beside the wall. A smile surfaced beneath her paper-covered face: “Magpie on the plum branch— Miss Nianjun truly has good fortune. Why didn’t I have such an omen when I married?”

No wonder my married life was always quarrels at the head of the bed, reconciliation at the foot.

The kitchen maid shook her head, turned, and dumped the shards into the hearth. Behind her came a melodious birdcall and the flutter of wings— the magpie must have flown away…

“I wonder where that Shunsheng kid got to— the back kitchen’s about to collapse, and he still hasn’t come to help…” After clearing the broken tiles, the kitchen maid lifted her tray, muttered under her breath, and hurried off to serve more dishes.

Not long after she left, a limping figure slowly rose from the thick shrubbery. His body was covered in wounds— open flesh wounds bleeding, bruises from impacts, his left shoulder dislocated, one leg dragging as if broken, and his lower jaw split clean in half, held together only by skin and sinew.

It was Ning Zhe, utterly cursed.

Ning Zhe wiped blood from his face, looked up at the magpie perched on the plum branch, and suddenly smiled.

He slightly curled his lips, and a melodious birdcall drifted out from his mouth, missing several teeth.

City kids nowadays rarely know how to whistle like birds— luckily, Ning Zhe wasn’t from the city. He was born and raised in the countryside, a bona fide rural household, and as a child had even herded cattle with his grandfather.

The birdcall stirred awake— the next moment, the wounded boy vanished, replaced by another magpie perched on the branch.

When the kitchen maid believed the birdcall and wingbeats came from a magpie, he truly became one.

Ning Zhe beat his black-and-white wings into the sky, gazed southward, and saw a line of blood-splattered white-clad servants marching down the empty street, beating gongs and drums, blowing cheerful suona horns, heading straight toward him.

At the center of the procession, carried aloft, was the lotus platform that had once enshrined the Snake God.

“Good, I made it in time…” Ning Zhe exhaled in relief. He refused to believe he could keep being unlucky while flying.

The next instant, a small, swift black shadow left the plum branch’s tip and charged at him with ferocious intent.

“Snake God, I fuck your mother.”

Ning Zhe raised his middle finger. If he still had one.

If there existed a Tianshengyibing among heaven’s chosen, it was someone like Ning Zhe— even as a bird, he was far more aggressive and combative than any ordinary magpie. After briefly adapting to avian vision and anatomy, he immediately tilted his body, beat his wings, and clashed with the charging magpie.

At the cost of losing one eye, Ning Zhe killed the deranged magpie. Bleeding, he landed on the mansion’s courtyard wall, and with his one good eye, watched the approaching divine procession.

He wasn’t worried about Feng Yu’s safety. Until she fully understood the truth—that Ning Zhe had impersonated a ghost and used Lin Zhiyuan’s phone to call her— and until her mistaken belief was corrected, the ghost would never kill her. Otherwise, the stolen portion of his identity would be lost forever. Feng Yu would not die— unless she learned the truth.

Ning Zhe stood atop the wall, silently watching the blood-drenched divine procession carry the lotus platform toward the main gate of the He mansion. Each member bore wounds— some with burst abdomens, others limping, the lead suona player missing his head entirely.

Clearly, they’d been unlucky all the way here— even the Snake God was no exception. His decaying wooden body lay shattered into pieces, his two long horns broken, but his head remained intact, the yellow calendar still hanging from his tongue.

On the calendar, today’s auspicious and inauspicious signs were barely legible:

【Auspicious: Killing】

【Inauspicious: Traveling, Burial, Mourning, Sacrifice】

The magpie with one blind eye could not clearly discern the extra characters on the calendar from this distance and angle. His chest pounded— his heart thudded inside: “This is the critical moment. Whether we break this world or not depends on now…”

Ning Zhe beat his black-and-white wings and flew beneath the eaves of the mansion’s main gate.

As the servants carried the heavy wooden lotus platform through the gate, a magpie slipped along the edge, dodging all sight, and landed silently amid the Snake God’s shattered remains.

Ning Zhe folded his wings, crept quietly into the Snake God’s gaping mouth, curled his sleek body deep within its throat, and froze— letting the procession carry the broken corpse of the Snake God to the main entrance of the He mansion’s central tower.

“The Snake— God— Grandma— has— arrived—”

Loud calls and shrill suona blasts echoed above the banquet tables. Gongs, drums, and silk-and-bamboo music began, beating rhythmic time, as the blood-soaked white-clad servants carried the Snake God’s remains into the He family’s main hall.

Hidden inside the Snake God’s throat, Ning Zhe didn’t know the exact scene outside— only from the servants’ cries did he glean possibly useful, possibly useless information: “They call the Snake God ‘Grandma’?”

“Is the Snake God female?”

Before Ning Zhe could make sense of this, as the heavy lotus platform was gently set down in the center of the hall, shouts erupted from all around the tower. The guests, oblivious to the Snake God’s shattered state, raised their cups with flushed faces toward the hall, spouting blessings like a rapid-fire volley:

“First cup—to Heaven!”

“Second cup—to Earth!”

“Third cup—to our Snake God Grandma, may she live ten thousand years!”

Rice wine swallowed, blessings heard— Ning Zhe, curled inside the Snake God’s mouth, went black in the eyes.

He didn’t know how many had joined the chorus, but felt a torrent of chaotic information crash into his skull like a dump truck full of sand and earth, flooring the accelerator.

“I fuck…”

From the pounding torrent of information, Ning Zhe painfully extracted his first useful piece:

“Today is the wedding of the He family’s third daughter, He Nianjun. She is marrying… [Zhao You].”

Ning Zhe now knew: [Zhao You] was the Snake God’s true name.

But isn’t the Snake God Grandma female? (End of chapter)