Chapter 5

The Celestial Dragon Returns by Night

The moonlight was gentle, the sound of the sea mournful. In an instant, the young man had finished his cup of wine. Gazing at the full moon overhead, he murmured as if speaking to himself, “The ancient heavens lie empty now. I wonder if any remnant still survives after a thousand years...”

His words were clearly not meant for me, and I didn’t understand them. So I spoke directly, “I only see one moon. What do you mean by ‘ancient heavens’?”

The young man replied, “Two have disappeared in the past two days. Ten moons had hung high before, visible only from here.”

“You’ve been here for ten days?”

“Two months.”

I was astonished. “Two months, all alone on this cold mountain pavilion, living on wind and dew? No, wait—on wind and wine?”

“Not everyone needs to eat,” he said, pouring himself more wine, as if telling me that wine alone sufficed.

This man radiated immense divine power. Could he be cultivating immortality? Was he already a demigod? Or, like my eldest sister, had I stumbled upon a wandering immortal on this deserted island? Whatever the case, the thought filled me with joy. I asked, “Might I inquire your esteemed name?”

He turned to look at me, his eyes shining like stars, his nose straight as a snowy peak. Two water-patterned marks curved down his cheeks from his temples. He should have been an unapproachable figure of beauty as lofty as the heavens, but his gaze carried an imperious sharpness. “You should be more concerned about your safety. If I hadn’t saved you just now, you’d have been taken by that coiling dragon to be used as a tonic for its mate.”

“A… tonic?” I broke into a cold sweat.

“The coiling dragon’s mate is pregnant. Your kind is the most nourishing medicine.”

No wonder it had been so ferocious yet hadn’t killed me immediately—it had planned to take me alive and brew me into soup! The thought sent a shiver down my spine. However, the fact that this coiling dragon, so fearsome and venomous, had been utterly subdued by this young man only deepened my curiosity about his identity.

Before I could ask again, he clapped his hands twice and said to me, “It’s late. You should return home.”

A massive shadow spread across the ground in front of me.

At first, I thought it was a cloud, but when I turned my head, I nearly fell to the ground in fright. Unbeknownst to me, another dragon had appeared beside the cliff, bowing its head toward us in the same reverent manner. However, this dragon had wings on its back, its body a fiery red-gold hue, and was even larger than the first one.

The books had mentioned it—after five hundred years, a dragon grows horns, and after a thousand years, it becomes a celestial dragon. Scaled ones were known as jiao dragons, and winged ones as ying dragons.

This colossus was a thousand-year-old celestial ying dragon!

Two dragons in one day—the second even grander than the first. I felt I could hardly take it anymore. But realizing this young man could command such creatures, I reassured myself that I was safe, aside from being briefly stunned by its ferocious appearance.

The next moment, the ying dragon extended its claws toward me, lifting me onto its head. I gasped, and the young man said calmly, “It will take you home now. Be more cautious when you venture out in the future.”

“Wait! Hold on!” I grasped a few strands of the dragon’s whiskers in panic. “My father said only immortals can command dragons. Are you… an immortal?”

“Not only immortals can command dragons.”

“Then who are you? What’s your name? For saving my life, I, Luo Wei, shall never forget this debt. One day, I will repay you…”

The more I spoke, the further forward I leaned.

“It was a trifling matter. No need for repayment,” he said indifferently. “The distance between us is vast; we are unlikely to meet again in this lifetime.”

“Just tell me your name!”

“I have no name.”

With that, he clapped twice again. The ying dragon spread its wings to the sky, soaring on the wind. In a matter of moments, it had carried me far away. I turned back to look at the young man one last time. The sea breeze billowed his wide-sleeved robes, setting his flowing black hair into a graceful dance.

That mountain peak was nothing extraordinary, yet it was bathed in the pure radiance of the full moon, blooming with unparalleled beauty amidst the deep night.

Two hours later, the Yinglong brought me to the outskirts of Suxiao. Flocks of Yi birds soared from Suxiao, their dazzling, multicolored feathers lighting up the night sky like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Seated once again on the soft, downy back of a Yi bird, the familiar touch of its feathers instantly eased my taut nerves.

Gazing once more at the massive, round moon occupying half the sky, and recalling everything that had transpired earlier, it all felt like a dream—a dream painted in vivid, surreal hues.

I dozed off for a while on the Yi bird’s back, only to be awakened by the sound of my family calling my name.

They had been worried sick. My mother and second sister embraced me, crying with relief, while my father meticulously checked me over for injuries. Fu Chen-zhi stood silently nearby, his face pale and expressionless.

Mother noticed him and said, “Ah, this poor child has been frantic since you went missing—unable to eat or sleep, he hasn’t touched a single meal… Chen-zhi, now that your sister is safe, you must go and have something to eat.”

Fu Chen-zhi shook his head, his small frame swaying unsteadily as if he could barely stand. Breaking free from my parents’ arms, I walked up to him. We stood there in silence for a long moment before I finally grabbed his hand and said, “Brother, let’s go eat… I’m hungry.”

He had been stoic, even carrying a hint of reproach in his expression, but hearing my words, he was startled. Then, pursing his lips, his eyes reddened. “Alright.”

Turning around, he led me toward the dining table, using his sleeve to wipe away tears.

If I recall correctly, that was the first time I willingly called him “brother” and also the first time I felt the warmth of his hand.

Indeed, the events of that night might sound absurd and laughable, but the fact that my parents nearly dragged me to see a doctor left me a little irritated. They were convinced that only the Panlong existed, dismissing the icy sea, the dragon-taming youth—everything else as nothing but my fanciful ramblings.

Furthermore, to preserve the dignity of the royal Suxiao clan, they ordered me not to speak of the incident to anyone. Over time, I stopped bringing it up. But deep down, I was certain: that man, so noble and extraordinary in demeanor, could only be a banished immortal mistakenly lingering in the mortal realm.

In the years that followed, the images of a solitary pine ridge, a cold moonlit night, an azure silhouette, and a dragon’s nocturnal return would frequently appear in my dreams.

As a member of the Suxiao clan, I had always been drawn to the shimmer of water and all things radiant. The countless glimmering ice shards on the sea that night resembled a celestial river of stars, opening up an infinite expanse of night sky within my heart.

Days turned into months, and months into years. Before I knew it, twenty-seven years had passed.

That year, I was forty-two years old, an age that gave my parents constant headaches. Every time I acted out or made mistakes, my father would lecture me sternly: “As a princess of the Suxiao clan, do you still think of yourself as a child? Do you know that mortals at forty are expected to understand life’s truths, and at fifty to accept their fate? At your age, they already have grandchildren!”

To such deliberate reprimands, I always responded swiftly and cleverly: “Mosquitoes my age would have reincarnated hundreds of times by now. Should I start learning from them?”

Defying my father, exasperating my mother, and squabbling with my siblings had become the greatest joys of my life.

That year, it was early spring. That day was my second sister’s sixtieth birthday.

I knew that the entire Cangying Altar would be bustling all day long. My father and the civil and military officials were there to hold her coming-of-age ceremony, as well as the ceremony to appoint her as crown princess.

Such a grand occasion—how could the little princess miss it?

Unfortunately, I had been confined to my chambers for three days as punishment. Earlier, during a spell practice session, I had accidentally frozen Hanmo’s rear with ice shards, causing him to fall flat on his back. For this, I was locked up—with no water at all for three whole days. I was so bored that I wandered around the room like a lost soul, repeatedly bumping into the walls.

Thankfully, Hanmo was a loyal companion and a good friend. Not long after I woke up, I saw a small stream of water trickling through the gap in the door. Stretching out my finger, I twirled it in the air, and the water obediently reversed its flow, spiraling upward and wrapping around me.

The water’s power lifted me gently, allowing me to float up to the highest window of my chamber. Pushing it open and squeezing half my body outside, I looked down to see Hanmo waiting below, a large bucket of water in hand. He gave me a quick nod. “Let’s go.”

Technically speaking, one isn’t supposed to learn the Sky-Water Ascension Technique until the age of fifty. But I had secretly mastered most of it long ago, behind my instructor’s back. Hanmo, on the other hand, had always been lazy and uninterested in proper studies. The only thing that ever caught his attention was ice sculpture class. At this rate, he probably wouldn’t manage to fly more than a foot off the ground even by fifty.

So, to reach the altar unnoticed, I clumsily used the barely-mastered Ascension Technique to haul both of us into the air. Bumping and crashing all the way, we eventually made it to the mountaintop.

The journey was marked by our panicked screams and cries of despair. It was a scene too comical to even think about.

The east wind brought fresh greenery, and peach blossoms smiled across the hills.

At the altar, all the nobles and generals were present. Thousands of Suxiao clan members bowed in unison, paying homage to the solemn Cangying God. Among the vast crowd, I spotted my second sister at a glance.

At sixty, Suxiao women were like buds just beginning to bloom. My second sister stood draped in purple silk, her light makeup accentuating her beauty. Her powdered face and graceful poise made her the very embodiment of elegance. Standing at the forefront of the altar, she resembled a rare pearl on Harvest Day, the full moon’s blossoms, or a divine fox weaving the light of a thousand years into a lunar tapestry.

The ceremony for women involved unbinding their hair, while for men, it was about binding it up, both done by their closest female relative. Thus, my mother stepped forward and personally untied my second sister’s braided hair. Her glossy green locks cascaded down like waves, smoothly flowing over her shoulders and partially obscuring her slender willow-like waist.

My second sister’s beauty was so breathtaking that my heart seemed to skip a beat.

Since my eldest sister had disappeared for so many years without a trace, my father had decided to make the second sister his heir the moment she came of age. Killing two birds with one stone, he could secure both power and charm with her.

If my eldest sister were here to see this, she’d probably cough up blood in anger… No, I’m joking. With her free-spirited personality, she’d likely clap her hands and toss flowers in celebration instead.

“Second sister is truly a great beauty. I must get closer to admire her properly. You stay here and don’t wander off, alright?” Hanmo had grown much taller over the years, and he was as heavy as a rock. I could no longer carry him, so I simply left him behind.

The injury on my backside was jolted once again. Han Mo, clutching the painful spot, flushed red in the face and said, “No, don’t go! His Highness is back, he’ll definitely notice you...”

Hearing this, I was already halfway flying and started searching in astonishment for my brother’s figure. I couldn’t believe it—I’d been locked up at home for three days, and such a big event had happened without anyone telling me. All along, because his physique was different from that of the Sùzhāo clan, he had never been able to learn our magical arts. Nine years ago, he had spent a long time traveling outside, studying under various masters, rarely returning to Sùzhāo. The last time I saw him was two years ago on New Year’s Eve. Last year, even more so, he hadn’t come back during any of the holidays.

Before long, I spotted him among the officials in the front row.

The fragrance of spring was warm, and the first red petals began to fall. He stood beneath a peach blossom tree, dressed in snow-white robes, with golden embroidery. His form was as graceful as a jade tree in the wind, his black hair flowing gently with the breeze.

I clearly remembered the last time I saw him; he was still a delicate youth, slender and precious. But now, much taller, his hands bigger and shoulders broader, he already gave off the presence of a grown man. What puzzled me was that, although he was a mortal, his physical growth rate seemed almost the same as the Sùzhāo clan’s.

Suddenly, I saw him turn his head and say something to the person beside him. His profile was still handsome and thin, but now there was a sharp, heroic aura in his features. In this state, he was hardly the chubby boy I remembered from childhood.

It was then that I noticed the woman he was talking to. She was a petite and delicate black-haired woman, exuding a leisurely grace. I couldn’t tell who she was, but she tugged at his sleeve, and he lowered his head. After listening to her, he smiled faintly.

He was clearly smiling at her, and all I could see was his profile. Yet, I couldn’t help but think of the long poem “Sù Měirén” written by one of the five great poets of Sùzhāo, Wanran. In it, there were two lines that went: “A smile turns thoughts of spring, a second smile breaks the soul of spring. Her cloud-like hair is like smoke, her light sleeve drunken with dark purple.”

At that very moment, those lines from “Sù Měirén” suddenly jumped into my mind again:

“One smile turns thoughts of spring, two smiles sever the soul of spring.”

Sùyíng God, please protect me from being struck by lightning! The poem tells the story of a flirtatious young nobleman and a famous courtesan in the capital during King Lìngjǐng’s reign. Eventually, the courtesan, abandoned by her lover, committed suicide by drowning in the Luo River after donning a bridal gown. The two smiles in the poem are said to describe her expression when she smiled, knowing her fate.

Brother... I truly know my mistake now.