Chapter 106: A Touch of Vermilion (Part 1): Huh, What’s She… Part 2

White Pupil let out a high cry and flew off to pick them up. It had flown this distance back and forth too many times—even blind, it had no trouble navigating. It soon returned. As soon as it landed, Shang Shan’s voice burst out like a bag of oranges spilling open, bright orange smashing down overhead.

“Master, Feng Ling Immortal is such a great person! She took in Tan Que at Dust Dream Village down the mountain and said she’ll find a way to treat her curse! She also invited us to lunch tomorrow noon—she said there’s stuff you like to eat.”

Mu Qian Tan put White Pupil away. “Tomorrow noon?”

Shang Shan’s eyes sparkled as she gestured excitedly. “Yeah! And there’s super super good news—do you know what?”

With things mostly handled, Mu Qian Tan was ready for bed. She turned toward the palace interior. “Guess whether I know.”

Shang Shan bounced up. “Qin He is coming back!”

Mu Qian Tan’s steps paused slightly before continuing. “When.”

“No idea!” Shang Shan stuck close, hopping to the left then darting to the right. “She said in a few days, and she’s bringing me a gift! What do I do? I haven’t prepared anything for her. This is too sudden. Can I start making something now? What should I make? I…”

Her voice buzzed into the distance. Mu Qian Tan responded offhandedly. “Do what you want…”

Qin He had gone out this trip to find evidence of Yao’e Immortal’s crimes—or rather, her sister’s true cause of death. She must have worked hard and suffered greatly, but Mu Qian Tan knew she would find nothing.

The poor kid was exhausting herself for her sister.

That said… Mu Qian Tan could not help but wonder, if she stayed in this world forever, would her own little sister search for her like this?

Probably.

Was their last meeting also an eternal farewell?

She had almost forgotten—she had promised to spend her birthday with her, which she probably could not fulfill now.

Mu Qian Tan shut the still-chattering one outside the palace door, lay down in her coffin, stared at the ceiling for a bit, and closed her eyes.

Shang Shan stood at the door, poked at the door crack with her finger, and huffed. “If you don’t want to hear it, I won’t say it!”

She paced around the door a few times before going to her tree house to sleep.

The next day at noon, Mu Qian Tan brought her people to Cliff Mountain. The grape arbor still wore that deeply wounded look, but clearly someone had rearranged the vines, so it should grow back properly next year.

She timed her arrival perfectly. Jiang Zhouyao had already prepared a full table of food. Seeing her approach, she greeted, “How has Yao’e Immortal’s training been going lately?”

Mu Qian Tan said helplessly, “You’re still fixated on that.”

Shang Shan grabbed bowls and chopsticks, swiftly served rice, and set them on the table like she was dealing cards. Tan Que carefully avoided stepping on any flowers or grass as she nestled by the table, eating dog food that Jiang Zhouyao had specially prepared for her from a large vat. The two immortals took their seats, and Mu Qian Tan asked, “Qin He will be back soon?”

Jiang Zhouyao poured her a cup of rice wine. “Yes, about a week from now.”

Shang Shan reached for some rice wine too, but Mu Qian Tan smacked her hand away with her chopsticks and shot her a glare. “It’s inconvenient having this troublesome child Tan Que at my place. Thanks for looking after her.”

Jiang Zhouyao laughed. “It’s not just this child—anyone who goes to your place ends up troublesome.”

After all, it was the vast lake known as the Narrow Sea. Crossing it back and forth wasn’t easy. But since they wouldn’t be staying long anyway, Mu Qian Tan didn’t mind. “It’s quiet over there.”

“That does suit your habits.” Jiang Zhouyao tied on a floral headscarf, revealing her soft and elegant features. “Remember that child from the Fu Clan? She sent an invitation for us to visit the Source Mist Mountains. What do you think, Yao’e Immortal?”

Mu Qian Tan took a light sip of her wine. “She invited us, so let’s go.”

This was an important plot point—she couldn’t miss it.

Jiang Zhouyao said, “Since you’re willing too, then we’ll head over. The invitation is for two months from now, but the Fu Clan is in the Extreme North Lands, and the journey is long. Once A’He gets back, we’ll rest for a couple of days and then set off.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Good.”

Jiang Zhouyao picked up a bite of food and peered over the woman’s shoulder at something, letting out a faint “Eh.”

“What?” Noticing her expression, Mu Qian Tan turned to look.

There was Shang Shan, who had just polished off five massive bowls of rice in record time, now sprawled on the ground gnawing on a big rock. Her teeth ground away at the stone’s surface like she was cracking open clamshells—crunch crunch, nonstop. A pile of grass nearby held several other stones chewed to ragged bits, and she reached for another one.

Jiang Zhouyao said worriedly, “Is she alright? That rock looks filthy.”

“…” Mu Qian Tan looked away. “Just ignore her…”

They finished lunch to the sound of her grinding teeth, then chatted idly with Jiang Zhouyao for a while. Once they set a time for their next meeting, Mu Qian Tan got up to take her leave. She grabbed the stone-munching girl and hauled her back to Azure Palace, dumping her on the ground. “What kind of nonsense is this?”

Shang Shan sprawled out on the ground in a big X with her long limbs, saying aggrievedly, “My teeth have been itching lately.”

She slipped a finger into her mouth and traced down from the tips of her teeth. A bit of red tongue peeked out against her pale finger as she mumbled, “I keep wanting to bite something hard. Otherwise, it just feels awful…”

Mu Qian Tan puzzled over it only for a moment before she remembered why. After this stupid dragon’s qi apertures fully opened and her dragon blood awakened, her body started showing dragonization symptoms—like sprouting dragon horns and a dragon tail, teeth sharpening, pupils slowly changing color, and even scales and blue-gold claws growing. The signs got more obvious over time until she fully transformed into a dragon.

Their trip to the Fu Clan involved a plot task to craft a treasure that suppressed dragon blood, helping slow the dragonization and keep it hidden from others as much as possible.

So this frantic rock-grinding was the dragon blood kicking in.

Shang Shan pulled out her finger and licked her lips. She rolled onto her stomach, still eyeing the edge of the flower bed to bite.

Her teeth were like steel—no match for anything. Afraid she’d chew up the whole courtyard or even the mountain, Mu Qian Tan walked over and planted a foot on the girl’s back. She heard a whine, then raised her right hand to condense an ice stick and shoved it into her mouth. “Don’t eat my stuff randomly. Suck on this.”

Since she needed something to grind her teeth on, Mu Qian Tan made her a teething stick—better than letting her wreck everything else.

Shang Shan clamped down on the ice stick. Her red tongue curled around it as her teeth ground delicately against it, leaving no marks. Finally, something she couldn’t shatter in one bite. Ecstatic, she flipped over. The foot that had been on her back slid to her chest, and she grabbed the ankle.

Pillowing her head on the woman’s scattered ink-black curls, Shang Shan laughed nonstop. “Thank you, Master. I love it.”

The ice stick was brittle but infused with spiritual power—if it got damaged, it reformed instantly. It was even tougher than that little ice ball from Pot City. Mu Qian Tan couldn’t help admiring her own ingenuity as she kicked the girl’s hand away. “Watch yourself from now on. Don’t embarrass me or stir up trouble.”

“I’m not! Oh, and my head.” Shang Shan shot upright and rubbed her hair. “It itches a little too. Master, take a look?”

That was the dragon horns coming in, but Mu Qian Tan said, “You need to wash your hair.”

Shang Shan pouted. “I wash it every day!”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Do you?”

Shang Shan scrambled up, grabbed two locks of hair in each hand, and held them out. “Smell—they’re nice and fragrant. I wash every day!”

She was insistent on getting her to sniff, but after two steps, she clutched her stomach and squatted down with a miserable face. “My stomach hurts.”

It was unheard of. Mu Qian Tan arched a brow. “What could possibly upset your stomach?”

Shang Shan toppled sideways onto the ground and curled into a ball, her face going pale. “Must be too many rocks, but I’ve eaten way more before—even dirt—and I was fine. Why just rocks…”

She muttered to herself on the ground, her voice trailing off. Mu Qian Tan figured she was just messing around. She warned her not to eat anything from the courtyard and went inside to rest. When she finished reading and refreshing her spirit, she stepped out for some air and found Shang Shan squatting by the hall door. The girl looked up with big watery eyes. “Master, I’m dying.”

Mu Qian Tan savored the fresh evening breeze in the courtyard. “Mm.”

Shang Shan’s voice was soft and tiny, weak as she said, “I wrote my last will. Let me read it to you.” She picked up a stone slab etched with crude drawings and began, “Title: Last Will. Content: I am Shang Shan. I’m sixteen this year. I…”

“Your ice stick ran out?” Mu Qian Tan glanced at her. “Can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Shang Shan set down the slab, her cheeks puffing out like ripe peaches. “You won’t listen now, but you won’t get to later.”

Mu Qian Tan straightened her sleeves. “Perfect.”

“I recited the last will to Zhengchun a few times—she’s got it memorized. If you don’t listen now, she can recite it for you later.” Shang Shan poked at Zhengchun with a finger. The parrot cleared its throat, speaking as if on a sacred mission. “Title: Last Will. Content: I am Shang Shan. I…”

“Shut up.”

“Gah!”

Zhengchun flapped away in fright, leaving Shang Shan to battle on alone. She hugged her knees, tears actually glimmering in her eyes.

Mu Qian Tan glanced at her, strolled around the courtyard, and took a bath while she was at it. When she returned drying her hair, she glanced again and saw the glints in those eyes. Disbelieving, she cupped the girl’s face.

Oh—not crying. Her eyes were just too big, reflecting the moonlight.

Utterly speechless. Mu Qian Tan turned to head back into the hall for bed when her sleeve was grabbed tight. She looked down into those same eyes, pleading like a little lamb.

Night had fallen completely. The hall’s faint golden light bathed them both, like a layer of warm glow. Mu Qian Tan held the towel in one hand, gently rubbing her hair as she said flatly, “Dying?”

Shang Shan nodded. “Mm.”

Mu Qian Tan asked, “Cause?”

Shang Shan said, “Bleeding.”

She hadn’t fussed over bleeding that much before. Dragon blood was supposed to make her more irritable, not like this. Mu Qian Tan sighed. “You didn’t die painting that array with your blood back in Pot City. You’re not that easy to kill. Stop worrying over nothing.”

“This time is different.” Shang Shan whispered it as her hand slid from the sleeve to clasp the woman’s fingers. She pressed her forehead to the back of her hand, nose filled with the fresh scent of her bath. She sniffed. “This time, I don’t know why I’m bleeding, and I can’t stop it. I must be dying.”

The hand rubbing her hair slowed to a stop. Mu Qian Tan draped the towel over her arm, looked down in silence for a moment, then lifted the hand being leaned on. “Get up. Where are you hurt?”

Shang Shan let go and stood. She slipped off her dawn robe. The wounds weren’t fully healed yet—red marks crisscrossed her lithe body. She looked down and pointed between her legs. “Here.”

“You.” Mu Qian Tan’s brow twitched. She started to scold but remembered something and froze slightly.

No way…

She bent down, placed a hand on the girl’s inner thigh, and pried it open a bit. After a glance, she looked up. “Did your stomach hurt this afternoon?”

Shang Shan, still listless, said, “Mm.”

“Bad news—you’re not dying.” Mu Qian Tan cut her off and straightened up. “But you’ve gotten your period.”