Lu Qingkong was perverse and solitary by nature, forever wearing a sour face. Neither the Outer Sect Disciples nor the inner disciples of Rizhao Mountain thought well of him; even at morning lessons he hunched alone in a corner, head down, an eccentric who kept to himself.
Fortunately, Rizhao Mountain had freaks and eccentrics in abundance, and he wasn’t even the most outlandish of them, so everyone simply treated him as an unsociable oddity—passing him with, at most, a hurried detour, too lazy to spare a greeting.
Which only made Lu Qingkong more lonely and forlorn. On all of Rizhao Mountain, the only person he could actually talk to was Mingzhu—and that was only because Mingzhu had shamelessly yammered at him through countless eye-rolls until he’d earned it.
Precisely because of this, Mingzhu knew how much those cold, heartless machines meant to him. In Lu Qingkong’s eyes, the mechanisms he built with his own hands were far easier to deal with than people ever were—that he could harden his heart to bring out his treasured collection showed just how deeply guilty he felt over Mingzhu’s undeserved calamity.
Mingzhu sighed, thinking: Still just a child.
He pushed the box back and smiled. “Didn’t I say no? Your senior brother’s word is his bond.”
“But…” Lu Qingkong raised his head, met Mingzhu’s gentle eyes, swallowed his words, and lowered his head again, ears red, mumbling, “Take it. Y-you take it.”
Mingzhu had never known he had such an endearing side. Propping himself up on his arms, he idly sifted through the box with slender fingers and, done with false modesty, picked out a small openwork carved sphere at random. “Then I’ll take this one. Nothing else—I’d never use the rest anyway.”
Lu Qingkong looked up at him, bewildered.
That look was the one thing Mingzhu couldn’t bear. He snapped the little box shut and stuffed it back into Lu Qingkong’s arms and—afraid the boy would die of embarrassment—swung the pendant-like thing by its chain. “Come now, tell your senior brother—what manner of gadget is this? It looks like nothing but a decoration to me. Hmm, does it do anything special?”
The little sphere was black as lacquer; through the intricate openwork carving, two still smaller spheres could be seen inside, linked by iron wire, swaying with a faint metallic chime—a rather pleasant sound.
Lu Qingkong took it wordlessly; deft fingers pressed lightly between the spheres, and the “Lu” character carved at the joint split open, revealing an intricate lattice of wire mechanisms within.
Mingzhu: “Ah!”
Lu Qingkong lowered his lashes and simply tossed it onto the floor. The sphere struck the ground with a soft click—and the mechanisms inside sprang to life. The two central spheres rolled for a moment, and in a flash the thing expanded to the height of a man, the openwork shell locking into place—at a glance, like an elegant curved screen revolving slowly around a central axis.
Lu Qingkong pointed at it and said stiffly, “Pretty, isn’t it?”
Mingzhu blinked, entirely unable to see what was beautiful about a pile of ironwork—but he’d flattered people all his life, and the compliments flowed freely. “Ah, gorgeous. So unique. Exquisite, delicate—a masterpiece of heaven’s own craft.”
Zhou Fuxue jabbed from the sidelines, dripping sarcasm: “Might I ask Ninth Senior Brother—this unique little gadget of yours is meant to serve as a mere ornament? If so, I’d advise you keep it. You’ve already wrecked Eldest Senior Brother’s house; he has nowhere to display a wallflower.”
Lu Qingkong, conscious of his debt to Mingzhu, was perfectly amiable toward him—but toward everyone else his foul temper resurfaced at once. He shot Zhou Fuxue a cold glance, saying with no courtesy whatsoever, “What I give my senior brother is none of your business. Before you go policing heaven and earth, mind your own manners first.”
Being called unmannered nearly made Zhou Fuxue laugh with rage. “Who gave you the face to call anyone unmannered? I—”
Seeing another brawl brewing, Mingzhu hurried to intervene. “Hey, stop it, both of you. Little Thirteen, is that how you speak to your senior brother? Honestly, no respect for elders.”
Zhou Fuxue, who had been standing up for him, was dressed down for his trouble and nearly exploded on the spot.
Lu Qingkong gave him a cold snort, stalked over, seized Zhou Fuxue by the collar, and dragged him toward the mechanism.
Zhou Fuxue thrashed hand and foot but couldn’t escape Lu Qingkong’s clutches. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”
Mingzhu hastened too: “Old Nine, hey, talk it out! Your junior brother is still a child—hey!”
Lu Qingkong, silent, flung Zhou Fuxue into the mechanism’s midst. The array at its base flickered; the two openwork panels slammed shut—and in an instant the whole contraption shrank back into the tiny sphere, its chain caught over Lu Qingkong’s finger.
Mingzhu stared at the Zhou Fuxue who had vanished into thin air, slack-jawed.
Lu Qingkong waved the sphere before his eyes and said unhurriedly, “This is a mechanical magic artifact I made by grinding Sumeru Mustard Seed Stone into powder and mixing it with tungsten iron. A formation array inscribed at the base stores living breath—it can sustain a person inside for a short time. Oh, my original intent was to make a storage pendant; I botched it into this by accident. It’s quite handy for storing things, at least.”
Only then did Mingzhu blink, taking the pendant and squinting inside—he actually found Zhou Fuxue’s figure, miniaturized dozens of times over, beside the two little spheres. He looked furious enough to explode, clawing desperately at the openwork gaps to climb out, mouth running nonstop, though the words didn’t carry.
Mingzhu said, “I—I got it, I got it. Hurry up and let my junior brother out.”
Lu Qingkong seemed not to hear; he flicked the sphere with a fingertip, and Zhou Fuxue inside was jolted into tumbling head over heels, his expression growing angrier still.
Mingzhu was caught between laughter and tears. “Stop it. What are you doing, holding a grudge against a child?”
Lu Qingkong said, “This one is called the Domain Pearl. If you like it, Senior Brother, keep it for storing your things.”
With that, he pressed the “Lu” emblem atop the Domain Pearl and flung it casually; Zhou Fuxue’s figure appeared out of thin air, stumbling several steps, nearly falling flat on his face.
Since coming to Rizhao, Zhou Fuxue had never suffered such indignity. Steadying himself, he fixed Lu Qingkong with a murderous glare, looking quite ready to lunge over and bite him.
Lu Qingkong ignored him entirely. He hung the Domain Pearl pendant around Mingzhu’s neck and said, “I won’t intrude further. Farewell.”
Clutching his box, he brushed past Zhou Fuxue, hurried down several steps, and his thin figure darted into the rain, vanishing in moments.
Zhou Fuxue slammed the door in fury—and turning, saw Mingzhu’s slender fingers pinching that lacquer-black Domain Pearl, brow knitted, lost in thought.
Mingzhu half-reclined against the bed, brocade covers over his lower half, unbound hair spilling across him in a lovely tumble—a truly pleasing sight. But Zhou Fuxue instinctively felt that wretched bead on his neck ruined the whole picture. Cold-faced, he walked over. “Senior Brother, this wretched—this bead is too cold against the skin. You’re not recovered yet. Take it off.”
Take it off and I’ll chuck it straight out the window, Zhou Fuxue thought.
Mingzhu kept his head down, studying the bead, and missed the coldness on Zhou Fuxue’s face entirely. He shook his head. “It’s nothing serious. I have a great use for this bead.”
Zhou Fuxue gave a glum “Mm” and said nothing more.
Mingzhu set the bead down, glanced up at Zhou Fuxue, coughed, and smiled. “Fuxue, how old are you this year?”
It was the first time Mingzhu had called him by name. For some reason, being addressed in that soft, cat-gentle tone made Zhou Fuxue’s heart feel scratchy, as if pawed at. He forced composure. “Eleven next month.”
Mingzhu drew out a long, thoroughly improper “Ohhh.” He muttered to himself, “Five more years, huh.”
Zhou Fuxue didn’t catch it. “…What?”
Mingzhu said, smiling, “I said, five more years and our little Fuxue will be a dashing young gentleman. Who knows how many senior sisters and junior sisters he’ll bewitch by then.”
A flush rose on Zhou Fuxue’s face; he shot Mingzhu a ferocious glare. “Eldest Senior Brother!”
Mingzhu burst out laughing—and met his Karmic Retribution before two laughs were out, choking on his own spit. He doubled over the edge of the bed, coughing for ages before he steadied.
Before long, Shen Di’an hurried back with an armload of medicine bottles. Raindrops beaded his outer robe; he stripped it off, flung it aside, and pressed Mingzhu down to apply medicine to the split wounds on his back.
Somewhere in the process, he must have hit a ticklish spot on Mingzhu’s waist—at every touch, Mingzhu flailed. By the time the medicine was finally applied, Mingzhu couldn’t tell whether it was pain or laughter, but tears were streaming down his face.
Shen Di’an flung a set of Rizhao Mountain robes at his face, exasperated. “Put it on. Don’t disgrace yourself.”
Mingzhu prodded the plain Rizhao Robe with two disdainful fingers, nitpicking. “I never wear Rizhao Mountain robes. You-you-you get me something else.”
Shen Di’an nearly hurled the medicine bottle into his face. “Your courtyard is a smoking crater—where exactly am I supposed to find you other clothes? Ancestor, put it on and come stay at my place a few days. I’ve already reported the state of Buzhiya to Little Shishu; someone will come to rebuild it in a few days.”
Mingzhu said, “No can do. This thing makes my whole body itch. Say—Little Thirteen, would you run an errand to the Clothing Pavilion for me? Tell them I’m collecting my clothes.”
Shen Di’an drawled, “How very good you are at ordering people about.”
Zhou Fuxue gave an obedient “Mm” and ran out with an umbrella.
Only after Zhou Fuxue was gone did Shen Di’an say, “Out with it. What is it you can’t say in front of Fuxue?”
Mingzhu pointed at his own neck. “Look at this.”
Shen Di’an clapped a hand over his eyes with a theatrical wail. “Eldest Senior Brother, have some shame! So indecent!”
Mingzhu: “…”
Mingzhu had no idea which part of pointing at his own neck constituted indecency. He could only pull the Domain Pearl off and show Shen Di’an. “Old Nine gave me this today. A storage artifact that can hold living people, too.”
Now Shen Di’an’s interest was genuinely piqued. He took it and examined it. “They say the world holds ten thousand kinds of magic artifacts, and storage ones come in every wild shape—but never have I heard of one that stores the living. Tsk tsk. Ninth Senior Brother’s foul temper makes him hardly look human, but those hands of his are truly deft.”
Mingzhu snickered—snickered twice—and Shen Di’an, who had been basking in admiration of Lu Qingkong’s masterwork, snapped his head up in alarm. “Wait—why are you suddenly laughing like that?”
Mingzhu swung the Domain Pearl gently by its chain, those fever-bright, water-laden eyes rippling with dangerous charm. “Rizhao’s new disciples take a journey down the mountain after their sixteenth-year coming-of-age rite, and a senior brother must accompany them. Now, in five years, when our Fuxue comes of age…”
Shen Di’an cut him off at once: “No, no, no. Every single time you’ve schemed your way out of Rizhao these years, Master has thrown a thunderous fit. There’s no way he’ll let you escort Fuxue down the mountain this time. Forget it. Don’t even dream it.”
Mingzhu wound the Domain Pearl’s chain round and round between his fingers, gave a little “hmph,” and neither agreed nor disagreed.
Shen Di’an tried a few more rounds of persuasion; seeing the eager excitement still sparkling on his face, he said, speechless, “You’re truly not afraid of being punished?”
Mingzhu was utterly untroubled. “I’ve survived it all these years. What’s to fear?”
He looped the Domain Pearl back around his neck and flopped onto the bed. “Right, nothing left for you to do. Scram. I’m staying here at Little Thirteen’s these next few days—spare me the back and forth.”
Shen Di’an said, acidly, “Since when did you and Fuxue get so close?”
Eyes closed, lashes trembling faintly, Mingzhu smiled softly. “The boy looks cold as ice, but he keeps a ledger of every kindness, clearer than anyone. Spirit-Veinless though he is, when he grows up he’ll be someone who astonishes the world. Don’t underestimate him.”
Shen Di’an tugged the blanket up and snapped, “I seem to remember you praising Seventh Senior Brother in exactly those words. Remember how that ended? Did he grow into someone who astonishes the world?”
Mingzhu clicked his tongue and kicked out at him, laughing and cursing at once. “So much yakking. Scram. Next time I see your Seventh Senior Brother, I’m reporting every bad thing you said about him.”
Shen Di’an snorted twice, gathering up his medicine bottles. “Provided you can get out of Rizhao at all.”
Mingzhu: “Scram.”
Shen Di’an swept off.
The unending drizzle still veiled Rizhao. Zhou Fuxue left the Clothing Pavilion clutching several sets of red robes and ran back through the misty rain. All around was hushed; the dense trees wore a layer of white gauze, wreathed and swathed in mist.
Umbrella in hand, he walked the shadowed forest path, and in a few turns vanished around the corner.
In the mountain’s early summer, ethereal blossoms drift down like rain.
