Chapter 13

Anyone who laid eyes on that photo would never call him an ordinary person.

No one except Xiao Li dared to speak up, and Xiao Li said, “He looks good!”

Bai Chen hadn’t expected Qiao Qingshuang to react like this.

What he had in mind was keeping Xiao Li away from the set. If Xiao Li didn’t go, Qiao Qingshuang might tag along—or he might not. Either way, by showing him the photo, everyone on set—and probably a whole lot more people—would know that Qiao Qingshuang wanted Bai Chen’s signed photo.

His status on set, in the entire entertainment industry, would skyrocket. No one would dare try to blacklist him again. At the same time, he’d win the affection of even more people.

Bai Chen had realized that Qiao Qingshuang held a special place in the hearts of so many. Anyone who could make Qiao Qingshuang happy, anyone he liked, would earn admiration from those same people. That was one reason why everyone on Frost Mountain adored Xiao Li so much.

But Qiao Qingshuang wasn’t happy. This was the first time Bai Chen had seen him so subtly displeased, sensing the low pressure that hung in the air whenever Qiao Qingshuang was around.

“Good-looking?” Qiao Qingshuang glanced at the person in the photo again. “I don’t see what’s so special about him. Is he really that good-looking?”

The Little Celestial Master who had printed the photo for Xiao Li didn’t dare make a sound. He wished he could vanish on the spot, unseen.

Lu Dong naturally kept quiet, too.

He had fallen for his boss’s nonsense! No wonder he couldn’t sense any happiness around an apocalypse boss.

Fortunately, as everyone trembled in fear, Qiao Qingshuang pocketed the photo he’d nearly crumpled. “Got it. Brother will get you his signed photo.”

The meal continued.

Qiao Qingshuang had always been the type who never spoke while eating or sleeping, and he hated when others chatted during his meals. But ever since his little brother came along, things had changed. He enjoyed listening to his brother’s sweet, childish babble over dinner, though he still preferred to eat in silence himself.

This was a particularly special dinner.

As they ate, Qiao Qingshuang, ever the responsible big brother, felt obliged to warn him against bad influences. “The entertainment industry is a cesspool of smoke and mirrors. I’m not saying you can’t be a fan, but pick idols worth following—like someone truly remarkable, someone who’s made huge contributions to humanity.”

“A face is the least important thing.”

Bai Chen nodded. “Like Brother!”

The air suddenly felt light and fresh.

“A face is the least important thing?” Bai Chen gripped his chopsticks and bowed his head. “Brother is amazing. Xiao Li is so dumb, so dumb. Xiao Li only has this face—a face that looks like Brother’s.”

“How could they compare to Xiao Li?” Qiao Qingshuang set down his chopsticks and reached over. A faint plum blossom scent drifted down as the hand that wielded a sword against strangeness gently stroked the boy’s head. “Xiao Li is the most beautiful person in the world. How could anyone compare?”

Bai Chen narrowed his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into Qiao Qingshuang’s palm like a little cat. “If it could make Brother even more amazing, Xiao Li wouldn’t mind being a little dumber. Xiao Li would happily give some of his brain to Brother.”

The hand atop his head paused for a moment, then descended even more tenderly.

“Xiao Li.”

“Yeah?”

“Brother will protect you forever, no matter what you become.”

Lu Dong’s emotions had been on a rollercoaster, but in that moment, he truly felt the happiness his boss had described. He could hardly believe this was the notoriously sensitive apocalypse boss who gave everyone such headaches.

All he could say was that this Xiao Li was too powerful!

As long as Xiao Li stayed by Qiao Qingshuang’s side, everything would be fine. Lu Dong was willing to hail him as a savior!

A rollercoaster had its ups and downs. After dinner, while Xiao Li went to wash his hands, Qiao Qingshuang reached into his pocket—the one where he’d stashed the photo earlier. What came out was a handful of ash.

“I knew the set reaching out to me meant trouble. Didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

“Filming some movie about me? How annoying.”

“What’s the meaning of casting someone like that as the Black Heart Strangeness? The original owner was my nemesis, and now the actor is, too.”

“That vein of his is causing me problems, too. Should’ve ground it to ash ages ago.”

“…”

In the end, the Little Celestial Master who had printed Bai Chen’s photo for Xiao Li shakily printed another copy. After all, Celestial Master Qiao had promised his brother he’d bring back a signed one.

That day, it finally felt like winter had arrived on Frost Mountain. The air was bitterly cold and crisp.

Ever since his brother had shown up, the two had never been apart for even a day. This time, they’d be separated for at least two days—maybe longer. Qiao Qingshuang hadn’t left Frost Mountain in ages, and some matters had piled up that required his personal attention.

That night, terrifying murmurs echoed endlessly from his study.

“Does this world grind to a halt without me?”

“All these years, and not one usable celestial master has emerged? Useless!”

Su Xuan, groomed as Qiao Qingshuang’s successor, barely slept a wink. The moment he closed his eyes, nightmares plagued him—dreams where Uncle Master Qiao’s eerie voice whispered in his ear, “Useless. How can you sleep?”

He nearly bolted to Xiao Li’s room to cuddle up with the boy, who always slept soundly. But hugging Xiao Li was out of the question, so at three-thirty in the morning, he dragged himself out of bed to practice his swordsmanship.

Qiao Qingshuang didn’t leave until noon the next day, after sharing a meal with Xiao Li.

Perhaps due to his frail constitution, or some past trauma that had impaired not just his intellect but his brain function overall, Xiao Li slept enormous amounts—and completely irregularly. He could nod off anytime, anywhere.

That day, he slept until after eleven, so Qiao Qingshuang waited until then to join him for his first meal.

Once they finished eating, it was truly time to go.

Bai Chen walked him to the gate and watched him descend the mountain.

Snow had fallen all night, blanketing Frost Mountain in pristine white. Even the most vibrant red plums were tucked away beneath it.

Qiao Qingshuang walked alone through the vast, snowy expanse, as if stepping into a desolate, frozen world devoid of life. His back view looked utterly lonely and forlorn.

Bai Chen watched him, then suddenly called out, “Brother!”

Qiao Qingshuang, far ahead, whipped around instantly.

Bai Chen trotted after him, but hadn’t gone far before Qiao Qingshuang scooped him up.

“I don’t want you to go.” Bai Chen wrapped his arms around Qiao Qingshuang’s neck. “Let Xiao Li come with you.”

He heard Qiao Qingshuang’s laughter rumble right by his ear. Qiao Qingshuang rarely laughed; he was usually stern-faced and temperamental. He’d smiled more around Xiao Li, but those were mostly silent, subtle ones.

When his throat vibrated and the laugh escaped his lips, it was clear just how pleasant his voice could be when it wasn’t cursing someone out.

Heads suddenly popped up all over the desolate Frost Mountain, turning the place lively at once. Everyone was there to see them off—even the delivery folks from Old Liu Family, waving both hands and shouting, “Great! Go together!”

With Xiao Li coming along, their group had grown.

An expensive-looking car idled at the courtyard gate, while the Little Celestial Masters inside bustled about loading luggage.

Bai Chen sat in the back seat, leaning against Qiao Qingshuang’s arm. He watched as they packed the trunk with all sorts of things—it took a full half hour before Su Xuan slid into the driver’s seat, with a Little Celestial Master named An Yu riding shotgun.

“The flight and high-speed rail take about the same time. What should we take, Uncle Master?” Su Xuan asked.

It was an odd question. Su Xuan knew that his uncle master never needed vehicles for travel. He himself hadn’t ridden one in over a decade—they didn’t require transportation to reach places like Faraway.

Qiao Qingshuang looked baffled.

Su Xuan thoughtfully suggested, “Lots of kids get scared during plane takeoffs and landings. High-speed rail is steadier—Xiao Li could sleep more comfortably.”

Xiao Li would probably doze off the moment he sat down.

Qiao Qingshuang said, “High-speed rail it is.”

An hour later, members of Team Three finally appeared in the Book Transmigration System Group.

【Team Three Captain Lu Dong: Heard you’re all doing great. I’m happy.】

【Team Three Captain Lu Dong: Things are going smoothly here too, but we’ve hit a snag. How do we take the high-speed rail?】

【Team One Captain Du Feili: Seeing your message makes me happy. For high-speed rail, ID isn’t an issue. In a world where humans and strangeness coexist, nobody checks papers much. But you need money.】

Du Feili smoothly shared: 【Here are some spots near Frost Mountain for quick cash. Be careful.】

【Team Two Captain Dong Man: Wow! You finally showed up! Are you following Celestial Master Qiao to the Dark Blood set? Awesome! We’re meeting soon. I’ve got tons of shocking stuff to share with you!】

【Team Three Captain Lu Dong: Sorry for worrying you. I’ve got a lot to share too, but we couldn’t send messages near Frost Mountain. Only got through now that we’re away.】

【Team Three Captain Lu Dong: We’ll hustle some work first, talk when we arrive.】

【Team One Captain Du Feili: Good luck.】

【Team One – Niu Lingyu: Good luck.】

【Team One – Liu Ming: Good luck.】

…

【Team Three Captain Lu Dong: Thanks for the blessings, but everyone’s saying good luck, and it’s making us nervous.】

Meanwhile, at the Dark Blood set, Bai Chen opened his eyes in his RV.

He rubbed his eyes and stepped out, immediately sensing the buzz of excitement and tension rippling through the crew. Most were glued to their phones, messaging furiously while chattering animatedly with those nearby—stamping their feet and jumping in glee at the thrilling bits.

The director and a few others had phones blowing up nonstop.

Bai Chen’s manager sprinted over, his voice far more animated than usual. “Guess what? You’re actually gonna meet Celestial Master Qiao! He’s coming to set—should arrive tonight!”

Bai Chen said, “Oh.”

He headed toward the director and spotted Ning Yuanshui nearby, a far cry from his usual cool composure. Ning Yuanshui clutched his manager’s arm, urgently insisting, “No? We can’t go without it! Use any method, spend whatever it takes—get me some fresh, delicious Snow Pear Chicken Head Rice Soup!”

Bai Chen paused and asked him, “Why Snow Pear Chicken Head Rice Soup?”

The director, red-faced from nonstop calls and excitement, poked his head over. “Yeah, why? Hold on—what even is chicken head rice?”

Faced with Bai Chen, a flicker of unease crossed Ning Yuanshui’s eyes, quickly masked. A touch of pride crept into his voice. “Before filming this movie, I stayed on Frost Mountain Street for a while. That’s where I learned Celestial Master Qiao loves sweet soup made from chicken head rice—has it almost every day. It’s basically become a local specialty there; every shop sells it!”

Bai Chen: “.”

“Impressive, Yuanshui!” The director slapped his thigh. “We gotta prepare some! Celestial Master Qiao will be exhausted from travel—a steaming bowl waiting when he arrives? Perfect! Make it happen!”

“I know, but it’s hard to find,” Ning Yuanshui said. “Chicken head rice is scarce here anyway, especially this season. A few restaurants had it earlier, but they just called—it’s all gone now.”

“I guess it got bought up at a high price by others who heard the news. They know Celestial Master Qiao likes it too, so they’re all planning to treat him with Chicken Head Rice.”

Bai Chen’s eyes widened ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as a flicker of pain and exhaustion surfaced in their depths.