When Bihua Lingjun and Envoy Heyun hurried back to the residence together, Danzhu was half-reclining on a cushioned couch beside the corridor in the central courtyard. His eyes were nearly closed as he dozed. Two or three young attendants waited upon him, and the spirit beasts lay scattered in twos and threes upon the courtyard’s green grass. It was a picture of ease and contentment.
Heyun approached the couch, dropped to his knees in fearful respect, and said, “This humble immortal was negligent yesterday and failed to serve Your Imperial Majesty properly. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness. I’ve come especially to escort you back to the palace.”
Danzhu raised a hand and waved it dismissively. “Get up. There’s no need to apologize. From now on, serve Fuli diligently, just as you would serve me. I intend to stay at Bihua’s residence for a while so Fuli can rest and recuperate.”
Heyun’s expression shifted. “But…”
Danzhu said lazily, “Alas, I know Fuli’s temperament better than anyone. He has always been obsessed with cleanliness and likes having the entire place to himself.”
Heyun had been attending Fuli since the previous day and had found Immortal Emperor Fuli remarkably easygoing. He was not particular about bedding or quilts, sampled some of every dish, and even chatted with the young attendants that evening. Although he did seem rather solemn, his temper was very good. When some thoughtless young immortals found his lizard appearance so unusual that they crouched beside the doorway to peek at him, Fuli did not get angry. He either pretended not to see them or smiled and called them over for a few words.
Danzhu continued, “Besides, I belong to fire and Fuli to water. The two elements clash somewhat, and that won’t help his recovery. I’ll stay out of the way here for a while. In any case, all of you must take good care of Fuli. There’s no need to miss me.”
Heyun had no idea what to do. He could only remain on his knees with his head lowered.
Bihua Lingjun said from the side, “Envoy Heyun, perhaps you should follow His Majesty’s orders for now. The Jade Emperor may issue another decree in a few days, or perhaps Fuxu Palace will be restored before long.”
Heyun respectfully replied, “This humble immortal obeys.” Then he rose and departed.
Danzhu looked at Bihua Lingjun with a beaming smile. “Qingxi.”
Bihua Lingjun looked back at Danzhu with an equally beaming smile. “Your Imperial Majesty.”
Danzhu said, “Qingxi, don’t worry. I’ve had the young attendants prepare a separate room for me. You won’t have to squeeze into the same bed with me.”
Bihua Lingjun replied, “How could Your Imperial Majesty stay in a side room? This humble immortal should be the one to find somewhere else to sleep.”
“That wouldn’t do,” said Danzhu. “I don’t want it said that I forced my way in and frightened you out of your own home. Unless you truly despise me so much you cannot bear to be near me. I know how to take a hint. I’ll leave immediately and find some other place to make do.”
Bihua Lingjun promptly replied, “Of course not, of course not. Your Imperial Majesty’s honored presence brings glory to this humble residence.”
Danzhu regarded him for a moment and said slowly, “Qingxi, when will you stop speaking to me in these empty courtesies?”
Bihua Lingjun merely smiled.
Danzhu said nothing further. He yawned and changed the subject. “Qingxi, have you ever wondered why my Danxiao Palace and Fuli’s Fuxu Palace each contain a character from the other’s name and title?”
Bihua Lingjun replied, “I don’t know.”
Bihua Lingjun sat on a stone stool beside him, and a young attendant brought tea.
Half-closing his eyes, Danzhu explained, “Actually, Danxiao Palace was once called Shenxiao Palace. It was Fuli’s residence at first. And Fuxu Palace used to be Zixu Palace, which was mine. We exchanged places.”
Bihua Lingjun seemed quite interested in this old story. “Oh?”
“Mm. Not long after the two palaces were built, Fuli and I made a wager about how many demons each of us could kill. If he killed more than the number I named, my Zixu Palace would take his name and become his residence. If I killed more than the number he named, his Shenxiao Palace would take my name and become mine. As it turned out, I won and he won too. And so…”
Bihua Lingjun drank his tea in silence.
Danzhu said, “Qingxi, that’s all there was to it. There’s nothing else behind it.”
Bihua Lingjun said, “Oh.”
And so Danzhu settled down at Bihua Lingjun’s residence once more.
But this visit was unlike the last. The young attendants nervously prepared a bedroom for him. Danzhu took up residence there and, astonishingly, did not wander about the whole house, let alone wander into Bihua Lingjun’s room. Each day he wandered through the courtyard, went out for a stroll, or, so it was said, returned to Danxiao Palace to visit Fuli. He did little else and never even demanded that Bihua keep him company.
After a day or two of this, the attendants had almost begun to believe that the Immortal Emperor really had come only to stay temporarily.
On the third day, Danzhu did not go out. He sat in the central courtyard with a mirror in his hand, gazing into it with great interest.
When Bihua Lingjun returned from Lingxiao Hall, the first thing he asked, as usual, was, “Is Your Imperial Majesty at home or has he gone out?”
Yunqing replied, “He’s at home, looking in a mirror in the courtyard. He’s been looking for more than a shichen.”
Bihua Lingjun went to the central courtyard and, sure enough, found Danzhu still gazing intently into the mirror without taking his eyes from it. After Bihua had changed his clothes and returned, Danzhu looked as if he had only just noticed him. Smiling, he said, “Qingxi, would you like to have a look? It’s very interesting.”
Bihua Lingjun approached to humor him. Danzhu beckoned him nearer, had him sit on the stone stool beside him, then held the mirror out before his eyes. “Take a look.”
Bihua Lingjun examined it closely. Seven-colored light rippled over its frame, while a scene appeared reflected in the glass.
It was an enormous bird’s nest, lined with soft grass.
A fuzzy bundle was crouched inside it. Astonishingly, it was a hatchling. Round as a ball, it resembled a baby chick, except that a chicken’s down was yellow, while this little bird was covered in warm red down and had a tender yellow beak. It ran about the nest like a rolling red pom-pom, occasionally flapping its tiny wings. Its eyes were black, glossy, and slightly moist, and its little claws trembled as though they could hardly support its weight.
Bihua Lingjun’s eyes grew fixed on the mirror, and his expression changed slightly.
Without betraying anything, Danzhu asked, “Well?”
The hatchling stretched its neck over the edge of the nest to look down. It lost its balance and fell headfirst. The hand with which Bihua Lingjun held the mirror seemed to tremble along with it.
The nest was high in a great parasol tree. Yet when the hatchling fell to the ground, it was unharmed. It shook its head, scrambled to its feet, and began toddling around again.
Many broad, fat leaves lay beneath the tree. The hatchling cocked its head at one, pecked it once, then again. Crouching low, it tried to work its beak and head beneath the leaf along a gap at the edge of the stalk, flapping its little wings frantically as though it meant to lift the leaf with its head.
The leaf was so large that each time it managed to push it up a little, it slid right back over its head. The hatchling kept burrowing under and trying again. Bihua Lingjun smiled despite himself.
A small smile also appeared on Danzhu’s face.
After a while the leaf slid down once more. The hatchling curled up in frustration, then suddenly shook its little wings and began to glow with faint red light.
The red glow spread and grew brighter. When it faded, a child of one or two years old, wearing crimson robes, sat where the hatchling had been.
Bihua Lingjun had always been particularly fond of spirit beasts and had never been very attached to their human forms. Yet the child in the mirror was the most beautiful he had seen in all his long years as an immortal. His little face was delicate and dewy, and his eyes were black and bright and wet with light. He reached for the leaf, set it atop his head, and laughed delightedly. Looking at the innocent smiling face in the mirror, Bihua Lingjun felt his heart clench and could not help gripping the edge of the glass.
Danzhu, still smiling, asked again, “Well?”
Realizing he had lost his composure, Bihua Lingjun hurriedly collected himself and put down the mirror. “Is this little phoenix a descendant of Your Imperial Majesty?”
Danzhu asked, “You’ve never been fond of feathered creatures. What do you think of this little phoenix?”
Bihua Lingjun lowered his eyes to the mirror. The child within had picked up the leaf in both hands and was playing with it, setting it on his head again and grinning foolishly. Bihua’s heart gave another involuntary throb.
“Is it adorable?” Danzhu asked.
Bihua Lingjun answered without thinking, “Adorable.”
Stroking his chin, Danzhu said, “If it were yours to raise, would you be willing, even though it belongs to the feathered clans?”
Bihua Lingjun’s gaze strayed irresistibly back to the mirror. “Yes.”
Danzhu smiled, then abruptly asked, “Bihua, you’ve raised so many young spirit beasts. When they grow up, do you find them less lovable than they were as little ones?”
Bihua Lingjun was startled by the question. After a moment he replied, “Not at all. When they’re young they’re innocent and charmingly clumsy, so they may be rather more adorable. But they all have to grow up eventually. I can’t keep them with me forever. Once they’ve matured, I have to consider whether there’s somewhere else for them to go. They’re different from how they were as youngsters, and even if I wanted to keep them, I might not be able to. I have to think about their futures and find places suited to them. Of course, there are exceptions, like the black tortoise and Tangdi. Neither wants to go anywhere, so they have stayed beside me.”
Danzhu nodded. “Yes. When they grow older, they’re quite different from their younger selves. Childhood may be lovely, but ultimately the grown form is the true one. Yet when you see only what someone looks like as an adult, it’s often hard to imagine what they were like when they were young.”
Bihua Lingjun nodded, his eyes still lingering on the mirror. Danzhu stroked its handle. “There used to be a hot spring in Heaven. The Palace of the Sun Star once stood nearby. I remembered it the other day and suddenly wanted to bathe there. But when I arrived, the place had become someone’s residence. A little immortal called Mingge Xingjun was living there, and the hot spring had even been renamed the Heavenly-Fate Pool.”
Still staring at the mirror, Bihua Lingjun gave a distracted murmur.
Danzhu smiled faintly. “That little immortal Mingge knows how to be accommodating. I mentioned that I sometimes miss the old days, and he presented me with this mirror. I believe it’s called the Dust-Viewing Mirror. They say that with sufficient immortal power one can look into events of the distant past.”
At last Bihua Lingjun’s gaze moved away from the glass. Slowly he turned toward Danzhu. “Your Imperial Majesty, the one in the mirror…”
Danzhu said with a delighted smile, “Alas, what you see in the mirror is me as a child. Qingxi, I was quite a lovable little phoenix back then, wouldn’t you say?”
Elio’s Notes: A shichen (时辰) is a traditional double-hour period, about two modern hours. Danzhu has been absorbed in his mirror for a surprisingly long time.