Chapter 30: A Jin

The two characters “A Jin” awakened memories long sealed away within Shang Si, and her gaze gradually turned dazed.

In truth, this name had kept her company for a good long while—nearly as long as Pu Yin had. Back in those years at the Cold Mountain Courtyard, the world knew only of that predecessor whose cultivation ran to unfathomable depths. No one realized there was a third presence there as well.

To call it a “third person,” though, wasn’t quite accurate. It was a bird, in fact—a lovely little thing with feathers in seven brilliant colors.

She was no demon or monster of heaven and earth, nor had she sprung from the natural workings of the world. And yet this little bird brimmed with an uncanny intelligence. She understood human speech and could sense the subtlest shifts in a person’s mood.

Shang Si remembered it well: she herself had chosen the name.

She had once asked Pu Yin about the bird’s origins, but her companion had only smiled and shaken her head, claiming ignorance.

Over time, Shang Si simply came to see her as an ordinary bird that had awakened to spiritual awareness, though without any command of spells or arts. Even so, that same little bird had shared many full and happy days with her and Pu Yin in the Cold Mountain Courtyard.

Decades turned in the Mortal Realm, seas became mulberry fields and back again, but she stayed ever the same, untouched by age or illness or the approach of death. This held true right up until Shang Si left the courtyard for Yedu. On that day, the pretty seven-colored bird had perched on her branch as always, chattering a cheerful goodbye.

Shang Si had imagined then that she was only stepping away briefly, just a quick trip home before her return.

She could never have foreseen the upheavals that would engulf Yedu afterward.

When she finally circled back to the Cold Mountain Courtyard, the place lay abandoned and overgrown. Pu Yin was gone—and so was the pretty little bird that had loved to hop onto her shoulder and chatter endlessly.

Thousands of years slipped by after that. Shang Si took up Yedu’s mantle in Eldest Sister’s place, taming her own headstrong whims to become a proper Lord of Yedu. Nowhere in the Three Realms, in all that time, did she catch even a whisper of Pu Yin.

Hua Qiu herself, sent up the mountain years ago to search for people, had never heard the name. And yet now Shang Si heard it fall from Lu Shiyuan’s lips.

“You know her?” She lost her poise in an instant, her usual composure shattered as she clamped down on Lu Shiyuan’s wrist.

The next moment, though, Shang Si glimpsed a flash of startlement in Lu Shiyuan’s wide eyes. She knew at once that her hopes had run ahead of reality.

“Sorry.” She let go and raised a hand to her brow, kneading it hard as she groped for the words to explain just who—or what—”A Jin” was to the woman before her.

Silence blanketed the room.

The weary slump in Shang Si’s voice made one thing clear to Lu Shiyuan: the “A Jin” from her illusion was real. More than that, she clearly meant something profound to Shang Si.

But even as conviction settled in, Shang Si lowered her hand and managed a faint, exhausted smile. “Shiyuan, it’s not a who. A Jin… she was a seven-colored bird from the Cold Mountain Courtyard, all those years ago. I picked the name myself.”

“Jinzi” had always evoked vivid, resplendent colors, and so it fit that radiant little bird perfectly.

Without pausing to reflect earlier, the sound of it had blindsided her.

Calm now, and tying it back to Lu Shiyuan’s earlier words, Shang Si quickly pieced together where the girl had learned it. After a moment’s pause, she pressed on. “You saw her in the illusion too?”

“She vanished alongside Pu Yin thousands of years back. I can’t say what you’re hiding, but I doubt it’s connected to that same bird.”

Lu Shiyuan had to agree.

The illusion had shown her two people and a bird. Linking herself to the bird felt forced; far likelier was some tie to that missing senior. Their faces were too alike for it to be mere chance.

At least Jinzi’s identity was settled. Anything deeper would have to wait for their return to Yedu.

That night found Lu Shiyuan lost in heavy thoughts.

Maybe it came from brooding all day, but the seven-colored bird—barely a glimpse in the illusion—took vivid form in her dreams. She perched on a limb of that colossal ancient tree, preening her glorious feathers.

Shang Si’s own mind, by comparison, rested easier. Day after day, she and Qin Xinying had sifted through everyone passing in and out of the Library Pavilion. At last, one figure had yielded a promising lead.

Right on their heels—half a step behind—Qingzhi finally arrived.

The Fire Phoenix Clan hadn’t entertained so many esteemed guests from beyond their borders in ages, and Qin Xinying seemed genuinely delighted. She knew Qingzhi was one of Yedu’s Ghost Generals, a cultivator of unparalleled strength and a master pill refiner without peer. With such a valuable visitor delivering herself right to their doorstep, Qin Xinying couldn’t pass up the chance to call in a favor and ask her to refine a few ancient formulas.

This secluded realm suddenly buzzed with life.

But for Lu Shiyuan, this was her first time laying eyes on Qingzhi.

Yedu’s vaunted Ghost Generals didn’t quite live up to their terrifying reputation. Aside from Nan Jin, whose first glimpse had given her a start, the others hardly seemed the ruthless fiends of legend.

Hua Qiu was one such example, and Qingzhi…

“This must be the Lu girl A Si brought home as her bride?” The woman was draped in a gown of lake-green gauze. As she turned, her voice was soft with amusement, every gesture evoking the misty poetry of Jiangnan rains, her gaze brimming with gentle affection. There wasn’t a shred of the Ghost Lord’s fearsome aura about her.

Called out directly, Lu Shiyuan offered a slight curtsey. “Ghost Lord Qingzhi.”

To her surprise, Shang Si glided over the next instant, lips curved in a smile as she murmured, “She’s older than you. Just call her Sister Qingzhi.”

Qingzhi took in their little exchange and chuckled. “A Si’s right—we’re all family here. No need for such formality. Hua Qiu and Nan Jin mention you all the time in their messages.”

By calling her “family,” Qingzhi had fully acknowledged Lu Shiyuan’s role as Sovereign Consort.

Taking the cue, Lu Shiyuan switched to a sweeter tone. “Sister Qingzhi.”

Even so, she couldn’t quite believe it. Yedu actually harbored someone this soft and yielding, like water itself.

Over the past three years, Lu Shiyuan had heard Shang Si mention in passing that the Ghost Generals of Yedu each had their duties. Qingzhi and Yun Qu spent most of their time abroad, hunting down wronged souls and vengeful spirits—work once handled by the Underworld’s ghost messengers. They returned to Yedu only rarely, which was why they’d even missed Shang Si’s grand wedding three years prior.

This reunion, in truth, revolved around the spirit veins in Lu Shiyuan’s body, long since ruined.

After some brief pleasantries, Qingzhi accepted the two heavenly treasures from Shang Si and set to work preparing the Soul-Protecting Pill.

Refining the Soul-Protecting Pill wasn’t overly complex, but neither was it a simple task. The trickiest part was procuring one of the world’s rarest immortal herbs—a step Shang Si had already completed. With that out of the way, Qingzhi had everything she needed.

Meanwhile, Qin Xinying generously offered up a secret chamber, making it easier for Shang Si to restore the spirit veins afterward.

Such meticulous thoughtfulness only raised Lu Shiyuan’s opinion of the Young Clan Leader even higher.

Everything was in place. This time, truly nothing was lacking.

And yet, right at that moment, Lu Shiyuan felt a surge of anxiety about what lay ahead.

Perhaps it stemmed from all the so-called miracle cures and formulas she’d tried before. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she should dare to hope.

What if… it failed?

What if Shang Si had miscalculated?

Torn by inner conflict, Lu Shiyuan halted abruptly at the secret chamber’s door, suddenly lagging several paces behind Shang Si.

It wasn’t until Shang Si had crossed to the other side of the stone door, paused, and glanced back that she called out, “Shiyuan?”

Lu Shiyuan’s thin lips pressed into a tight line, her gaze on Shang Si heavy with unspoken turmoil.

That single look was enough for Shang Si to sense her doubts.

Even though she’d already stepped inside, Shang Si doubled back, stopping in front of Lu Shiyuan. She hooked the girl’s pinky finger and rubbed it gently. “Shiyuan, do you trust me?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have stayed by your side all this time.” Lu Shiyuan nodded, sniffling, unsure why tears threatened now.

“Have I ever lied to you?” Shang Si pressed, clasping the rest of Lu Shiyuan’s fingers in her own.

Lu Shiyuan shook her head. Shang Si had never once broken a promise.

Her nodding and shaking, back and forth, melted Shang Si’s heart. She gave a helpless smile. “If I’ve never lied to you, then there’s no need to fear. What I say I can do, I will.”

“Once you swallow the Soul-Protecting Pill, just let go and treat it like one of our usual healing sessions. Leave everything else to me.” Yedu’s Dual Cultivation Secret Method would be the pivotal step in making this succeed.

In the end, immortal herbs and Soul-Protecting Pills were one thing—but finding someone willing to burn through their own cultivation to rebuild Lu Shiyuan’s spirit veins? That was the true rarity. The world was full of creatures who profited at others’ expense, after all.

Yet Shang Si had never breathed a word of it to her.

With that, she led Lu Shiyuan into the chamber once more. This time, no lingering doubts held the girl back.

Once the heavy stone door slammed shut, kicking up clouds of sand-colored dust, Qingzhi and Qin Xinying finally emerged from where they had been waiting in the distance.

Qingzhi was still dressed in her lake-blue gauze gown, her limpid eyes brimming with what seemed like unspoken affection no matter whom she gazed upon. She glanced sideways at the woman beside her, her voice cool and even. “Young Clan Leader, this favor you’ve delivered is as clean and decisive as a blade. For Yedu, it’s rather too generous. I’m sure you’ve already decided what repayment you’ll seek down the line.”

“What Ghost Lord Qingzhi says…” Qin Xinying’s eyes curved into laughing crescents, refusing to admit she’d schemed from the start. “Is it that my favor weighs too heavily, or does Lu Shiyuan hold such a lofty place in Ye Lord’s heart?”

She slipped one hand behind her back and turned her head with deliberate slowness, lofty platitudes flowing from her lips without a second thought. “This was merely a trifling effort on my part. Should I have need of something in the future, Qin Xinying would never presume to put Ye Lord or the other Ghost Lords in an awkward position.”

Qingzhi was mildly taken aback by the impeccable courtesy. For a moment, she wondered if this woman had undergone some profound change of character.

But no sooner had the notion flickered to life than Qin Xinying shifted her tack.

The laughter in her peach-blossom eyes eased into something softer, her voice dropping to an intimate murmur, as if breathed directly into the ear. “However… if one day I should ask Sister Qingzhi to handle a few matters for me again, it wouldn’t be quite so difficult as before, would it?”

She hadn’t merely changed her words—she’d altered her very form of address.

Qingzhi blinked languidly, utterly unchanged.