Chapter Fifty-Five: The Peach Destiny of the Celestial Palace

Princess Changyang called me to her side.

“My little apprentice, deliver a message to Han Qing for me, and listen carefully,” Princess Changyang said, her expression grave.

I stepped closer, thinking to myself, surely she wouldn’t have me relay something like “I love you!” or “I miss you!” or “I want to marry you!” or “I want to have children with you!” If it were any of those, I wouldn’t deliver the message—far too embarrassing! Better to drag my master here and have her say it herself; these messy affairs should be resolved by her. Why should I always be tangled up in such troublesome matters?

“If you lack the heart-shield scale, be wary of everything,” Princess Changyang spoke each word deliberately, her gaze fixed on mine.

My heart jolted. Has Master lost his heart-shield scale?

I knew about the dragon clan’s heart-shield scale, for it’s much like the bird clan’s soul-feather. When Ming Zhong attacked Jade Purity Realm, I plucked my soul-feather to become a messenger bird and seek out my master. The bird clan’s soul-feather is singular, connected to the heart; what’s on the feather is in the heart, unchangeable by anyone. Once plucked, it never grows again. The dragon clan’s heart-shield scale is also singular, connected to the heart’s desires, and plucking it causes deep pain. Unlike the soul-feather, the heart-shield scale can resist external harm. Without it, the heart is exposed—the most vulnerable point, requiring constant vigilance against enemy attack. Did Master pluck his scale to seek out Lu Xue? Master is tasked with safeguarding the celestial realm; how can he be without his heart-shield scale!

“Have you heard me clearly? This concerns Han Qing’s safety—let no one else know. He will understand what it means,” Princess Changyang said.

I nodded. Such a “love message” I could indeed relay.

“Go, then. Throw away those dog-chewed rotten peaches. Changyang will vent your anger for you. If those scheming things aren’t disciplined, they won’t know the might of their great-grandmother,” Princess Changyang said fiercely.

I bowed to her, smiling slightly. That fiery little maid, Xiao Rui, would not escape trouble when she reached the Immortal Official at the Peach Orchard. Hopefully those little immortals who brought trouble upon themselves would remember the lesson—harming others, they only harmed themselves.

Princess Changyang raised her purple copper mirror again, gazing into it, playing with it. I withdrew from her Nine Spirits Palace.

No matter what, I could never reconcile this Princess Changyang with the one I once imagined. Master locked her away for forty thousand years, hated her for forty thousand years. Yet she still cares for his safety. With her candid, passionate nature, she doesn’t seem like a schemer plotting against Lu Xue. But beneath that cold and proud demeanor, there seems to hide so much more...

She called those little immortals schemers, as if she harmed Lu Xue for the sake of justice. Did she do it just to make Master remember her?

Forty thousand years is too long—I have never seen it, nor can I understand...

Lost in thought, carrying that plate of “dog-chewed” peaches, I returned to the Peach Orchard. Princess Changyang wanted me to throw away these immortal peaches, but where should I discard them? These fruits ripen only once every ten thousand years; immortals who eat them live forever. Throwing them away feels wasteful—better to plant them back in the Peach Orchard. Yet, when I arrived, I had hurried after the little immortal, taking countless turns. Now, alone, I couldn’t find my way back!

Dazed, I wandered into a bamboo alley. Expecting an exit, I found instead a palace’s back door.

Just as I was about to turn away, I spotted a small black shadow moving in the bamboo.

It turned out a black wolf dog, so thin its skin clung to its bones, was tethered at the edge of the bamboo. It lay weakly on the ground, panting, unable even to lift its head. If it hadn’t moved, I’d have thought it nothing but a black branch.

Setting the immortal peaches aside, I crouched to observe it. This little wolf dog, which ought to be fluffy, looked more like an old man. Its dry, grass-like black fur was caked with dirty mud and dried blood; its pointed cheeks were deeply sunken, and a fresh wound marred its eye. It looked at me, wanting to bark and flee, but too weak even for a sound. It moved slightly, opening its mouth.

“Don’t be afraid. No need to hide from me,” I told it in my heart.

Examining its wounds, I found more than ten, old and new—whip marks, bites from other spirit beasts, even wounds from fur being yanked and burns. It must have suffered abuse from its owner, then been left here to endure further torment.

The wolf dog, seeing my hand touch its wounds, instinctively tried to bare its teeth at me, but could only manage a feeble gesture.

“Don’t try to be tough—you’re nearly starving, and you still want to bite me.” I tapped its little nose. It shifted its head, gathering its scant strength for a resentful glare.

I gently stroked its head, casting a spell to heal each wound. I carefully restored the injury on its face to pristine condition.

Seeing that I meant no harm, the wolf dog settled down, allowing me to treat it quietly.

“I cannot speak, and neither can you. I’ve been left in the Peach Orchard by my master; you’re tied up outside the back door, starving. We share the same misfortune—what a fate! These immortal peaches would be wasted if thrown away, so let me feed you!” I told it in my heart.

I placed a peach near its mouth. It sniffed, eager yet hesitant.

“Are you afraid of being bullied again? I won’t take advantage of you.” I took a peach, biting into the unbitten side to show it.

“Immortal peaches aren’t poisonous. Celestial fruits and wines are full of spiritual energy—any poison would rot immediately. Trust me,” I said internally.

Placing the peach again by its mouth, it looked at me, then at the peach, finally succumbing to the sweet aroma and began munching away.

The wolf dog devoured the plate of ten-thousand-year peaches in one go; its dull eyes sparkled with life, and its tail began wagging.

I gathered the leftover peach pits into the plate, laughing as I patted its head. In my heart: “You surely can eat! Having devoured so many immortal peaches, you’ll never starve again. Who knows, you may live longer than your cruel master!”

Tidying up the peach remnants, I stood to leave. The black wolf dog struggled to stand, wanting to follow me, but its leash kept it pacing back and forth, whining behind me.

After a few steps, I heard its cries. Turning back, I waved, thinking, “Little wolf dog, may we meet again someday.”

Suddenly, with a creak, the palace back door opened. An immortal lord emerged, hearing the wolf dog’s whining, and scolded harshly, “Stop that ghostly howling!”

He then looked up, spotting me, and exclaimed in delight, “It’s you! Did you come to see me?” He hurried toward me.

Seeing this immortal lord, I jumped in fright—once again, it was Tiande! He told me to wait for him, but I avoided him; how did I end up here after all that effort?

Like seeing a ghost, I dashed away, slipping around the wall and quietly transforming into a white light that flew off.

I finally escaped back to the Peach Orchard, my heart still pounding. Why do I keep running into Tiande? His inexplicable concern makes me feel utterly uncomfortable.

Calming myself, I found a secluded spot and, transforming my Black Crystal Sword into a spade, planted those ten-thousand-year peach pits. Dusting my hands and shaking off the dirt, I cleaned the sword with magic and restored it as a bracelet to my wrist. The immortal peaches, wasted because of me, were now put to good use—though it was a pity for the Black Crystal Sword. Since following me, its new master, it’s done nothing proper: writing or digging, planting. A noble celestial treasure reduced to such tasks. I wonder if Master will be disappointed.

This trip outside the Peach Orchard did not yield Master. I transformed into a cold crow, perching atop a dense tree, waiting for Master to come fetch me, boredly pecking at petals and counting Master’s “lovers”...

Lu Xue, the broken-string wife, one.

Yu Heng, the third princess and the second wife, two.

Princess Changyang, whom he hates, three.

Yu Ji, the seventh princess, who adores him, four.

The legendary sticky first-night little lover, five.

And the immortal lord Biyou, who committed suicide, six.

No, she proved her innocence, so she doesn’t count. Ah, dead and unproven, who knows...

And so many wanting to bear his children...

Not even one flower is enough to count them all! Hmph!

I pecked off one, then continued with the next.

“Rustle, rustle!” A tree nearby rustled loudly.

Who else would come to such a remote spot? Could it be that ghostly Tiande haunting me again? Peering through the leaves at the tree, I saw a little immortal maid.

She was slightly plump, with a round, adorable face. It was the melancholy little maid who once spoke up for me when I was ordered to trim branches.

She held an immortal binding rope, tiptoeing to toss it over a sturdy branch. After several tries, she managed to loop one end over, tied both ends, then stacked some stones nearby. Leaning against the tree, she wiped away tears, sobbing.

It looked like she was about to hang herself with the binding rope. Yet her celestial skills were poor—she didn’t know how to use it properly. The rope could be joined by immortal magic, no need for manual knots.

“If there’s still hope, live well,” I said to her in my heart, but felt no urgency to untie the rope and rescue her. Perhaps letting her feel the pain near death would make her abandon thoughts of suicide.

The little maid took out a small bundle, carefully opened it, and drew out a jade pendant, pressing it to her heart. She wept bitterly, choking out, “I’m sorry, but I won’t return this to you. You have your beloved now; let this keep me company.” She rewrapped the pendant, tucking it into her chest.

I couldn’t quite see the pendant, but from her words and demeanor, guessed she was troubled by love. The pendant was likely a token of affection.

She straightened her clothes, face sorrowful, gently climbed atop the stacked stones, tied herself up, and resolutely kicked the stones away...

As she struggled for a while, I secretly cast a spell from the treetop to untie the binding rope. She fell to the ground.

She lay gasping, then silently climbed up to retie the rope, hanging herself again.

When she suffered unbearably, I quietly untied the rope once more, and she fell again. After three rounds, the little maid slumped against the tree, crying in grievance, “Back in the Celestial Palace, even dying isn’t allowed!”