When Danzhu came to a halt again, he discovered he was still in the mortal realm.
This time he seemed to be on the summit of a mountain. Beneath him was a spacious courtyard, and the faint smell of incense hung in the air.
As usual, Danzhu concealed his form and descended into the courtyard. Inside the building facing him stood several clay statues that bore a passing resemblance to minor immortals he knew in Heaven.
This was probably a Daoist temple in the mortal realm.
Just then, a young Daoist with his hair tied in the traditional topknot and wearing a blue robe stood outside one of the halls and called, “Senior Brother Ruyi! Senior Brother Ruyi!”
Ruyi? Wasn’t that Qingxi’s Daoist name in the mortal realm? Danzhu’s interest was stirred. So this must be the time when Qingxi had become a Daoist but had not yet ascended to immortality.
Since he was here anyway, he might as well take a look.
Another young Daoist poked his head out from a corridor. “Stop shouting! Senior Brother Ruyi went up the back mountain first thing this morning. He’s probably feeding the wildcats again.” The first young Daoist stamped his foot. “Then I’ll have to go find him there. His family has come to see him, and he can’t even be found!”
At the words “his family,” Danzhu’s interest was stirred again.
Family? I wonder who has come. Could it be… Little Eight? Qingxi became a Daoist, but what happened to Little Eight? He was far naughtier than Qingxi was in his youth. I doubt growing up made him especially well behaved. His father must still have plenty to worry about.
Danzhu smiled despite himself and followed the first young Daoist.
They reached the mountain behind the temple. From a distance, Danzhu saw a figure in blue seated on a rock, stroking something in his arms. The sight made Danzhu’s heart flutter.
The young Daoist hurried forward, calling, “Senior Brother Ruyi!” The man on the rock looked up and smiled, and Danzhu felt an indescribable pleasure wash through him.
Now the man’s figure and features were exactly those of the real Bihua Lingjun. Danzhu thought that although a mortal Daoist’s clothes were terribly dowdy, on Qingxi they appeared graceful and refined. However he looked at him, His Imperial Majesty was delighted.
“Senior Brother Ruyi, someone from your family has come to see you. They’re waiting in the front hall.” Daoist Bihua Lingjun stood. The wildcat in his arms sprang to the ground and vanished into the grass in an instant. Bihua dusted off his hands. “Very well. Let’s go.”
A smile appeared on his face, carrying a hint of lazy indifference. He shuffled toward the front hall behind the young Daoist. This was nothing like the proper, conscientious youth Danzhu had seen earlier, yet it was exactly how Bihua Lingjun ought to look. At the sight of his smile, Danzhu was delighted. Yes, this is Qingxi. No wonder watching him as a boy felt so bland. He was far too proper back then.
Before the statues of the Three Pure Ones in the main hall stood a scholar in an elegant brocade robe. His features resembled Bihua Lingjun’s by half. When Bihua approached, the man called, “Eighth Brother…”
Bihua Lingjun raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Brother Yan.”
Danzhu felt as though a thunderbolt had struck his head in the middle of one of his battles with Fuli.
Eighth Brother… Then this Daoist called Ruyi is Little Eight?!
Qingxi had personally told him that Ruyi was the Daoist name he had used in the mortal realm. And even if Qingxi were ground into powder, Danzhu would still recognize the man standing before him as Bihua Lingjun! But Qingxi had also told him that his name was Shen Yan and his courtesy name Qingxi. Why was he calling this man “Brother Yan”? And back when they were children, why had Little Eight kept tugging on that proper, pretty young boy’s sleeve and calling him Brother Yan over and over?
Then who was Shen Yan, and who was Ruyi?
The scholar in brocade said, “Eighth Brother, I’ve been promoted to prefect of Luzhou. I made a special visit on my way to take up the appointment.” Bihua Lingjun cupped his hands. “Congratulations on your promotion, Brother Yan.”
“Eighth Brother, your talent and learning surpass mine. The imperial court is recruiting capable men. Why do you always refuse to return to secular life and do something for the people of the realm?”
Bihua Lingjun laughed. “You’re too modest, Brother Yan. The books I read as a boy were mostly the sort people call crooked and unorthodox. As for learning, very few could compare with you. The world is full of capable scholars. Those people everyone insists need saving are perfectly able to go about their own lives. If the court left them alone, they might even live better. And there are countless people jostling to serve the court. I’ll pursue what I want for myself. I can’t be bothered with the rest.”
The scholar frowned. “Immortal magic and the Daoist arts are no more than illusions. Is that really what you intend to devote your life to?”
“That’s merely a difference in how we see things,” Bihua Lingjun replied. “You think they are illusions, so you would never become a Daoist. I don’t think they’re illusions, which is why I became one.”
“You don’t think they’re illusions? Do you mean to say you’ve seen them with your own eyes and experienced them yourself?”
“How do you know I haven’t seen and experienced them for myself, Brother Yan?”
The scholar heaved a sigh and shook his head.
In a corner of the hall, two young Daoists watched the exchange and whispered to each other.
Danzhu pricked up his ears and caught every word of their gossip.
“…You don’t know? Almost every time that elder brother of Senior Brother Ruyi’s comes to visit, the two of them have an argument like this…”
“And Senior Brother Ruyi too. His family is so wealthy, several of his elder brothers are high officials, and yet he came here to become a Daoist. Why?”
“That’s what they call a steadfast Daoist heart. Look how much Senior Brother Ruyi resembles this elder brother. Even their names are nearly the same. His older brother is Shen Yan, written with the character for “speech,” while his own name is Shen Yan, written with the character for “banquet.” They sound almost identical, yet their temperaments couldn’t be more different…”
Shen Yan. Shen Yan. So that was it.
Danzhu nearly burst into laughter.
What he had first heard as “Brother Yan” had actually been “Brother Yan” with a different written character. Because the pronunciations were so close, he had mistaken the elder brother for Shen Yan in their childhood. Yet while following the older boy around, he had somehow, without even realizing it, become enchanted with Little Eight.
Little Eight was Qingxi all along. Qingxi was Little Eight!
Long ago, the child who had cuddled the feather egg had surrounded it with a warmth so profound that even the Danzhu sleeping far away in an egg in Heaven’s immortal pool had felt it. In the end, one breath of Danzhu’s immortal energy had brought that boy back from the brink of death.
Later, the boy became Qingxi, the very immortal who, many years afterward, had personally hatched Danzhu out of his true egg. Qingxi, who had insisted he didn’t really understand love, yet made Danzhu feel so wonderfully cared for and comfortable. Qingxi, who always seemed to have something he wasn’t saying, but always did whatever Danzhu asked of him…
Was this a predestined bond? A consequence born of an earlier cause? Or a coincidence that had gradually become inevitable?
Danzhu couldn’t be bothered to work it out.
He knew only that, many, many years earlier, he had been the cause of something that stirred Qingxi’s heart, and Qingxi had been the warmth that stirred his own.
Perhaps, in that instant, he understood everything.
Bihua Lingjun was sitting inside the earth-god temple with Geyue lying at his feet.
Geyue muttered, “Lingjun, that parrot hasn’t been back for several days. Do you think it got bored again?” Bihua nodded. “Possibly.”
“Lingjun, why aren’t you angry?” Geyue asked. “Because I simply can’t bring myself to be angry,” Bihua answered.
Just then, the earth-god temple door flew open with a tremendous bang, and an egg came rolling across the floor, round and round, until it reached Bihua Lingjun. Startled, Geyue sprang up and shook out his fur.
The egg kept rolling this way and that. Geyue watched silently for a moment, then suddenly said, “Lingjun, I’ll take my leave.” He quietly withdrew and shut the door behind him.
A faint red glow arose from the egg as it rolled, and it transformed into a fluffy young bird.
The fledgling flapped its wings and hopped onto Bihua Lingjun’s lap. It rubbed its head against his hand, its cloud-soft crimson down brushing his skin. A faint light gleamed around it again. In the next instant it became a six- or seven-year-old child dressed in red, identical to the child Danzhu had once shown Bihua in the mirror. It clung to Bihua Lingjun, wrapped its arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.
Immortal light flashed once more around the child. In the dazzling glow appeared a figure Bihua Lingjun knew better than anyone, magnificent in a long robe the color of fire.
Danzhu touched his lips softly to Bihua Lingjun’s. “Qingxi, I understand everything now… From now on, we’ll always be together. Wherever you go, I’ll go, unless you no longer want me to follow.”
Bihua Lingjun smiled faintly. “Danzhu, I’ve never gone anywhere at all. I’ve been right here the whole time.”
He could still remember how, many, many years before, when he had been a very young child, that one encounter had left an impression he would never forget.
The dazzling red robes and radiant face had taught him for the first time what an immortal was.
After that, he cultivated for years and finally ascended to immortality. He searched all across Heaven and earth and through the realms of immortals and Buddhas, yet never found the one immortal he longed to see.
He spent a very long time in Heaven after that, so long that even he could no longer be sure whether the being he had seen as a child had really existed or had been nothing more than a dream.
So he settled down to live as an immortal, raising spirit beasts, traveling on clouds, and often visiting the Western Paradise to discuss Daoist and Buddhist teachings.
Until the day the Jade Emperor coaxed him into hatching an egg.
Inside that egg was a tiger cub. But the tiger cub was a fake.
On the island, when the tiger cub turned into a bald quail and the bald quail became a phoenix, Bihua truly had been shocked.
And while he was still staring in astonishment, the fire phoenix descended and transformed into a figure he had never imagined he would see again.
Once more, the long robes were the color of flame. Once more, the figure was magnificent and dazzling.
In that instant, Bihua suddenly felt that perhaps everything was both cause and consequence, perhaps it had all been determined long ago, or perhaps merely wishing for something was enough to bring it about.
Perhaps he had become an immortal for this very day.
Whatever the truth, he absolutely had to catch this phoenix and keep him.
Danzhu drew Bihua Lingjun close with a heart full of satisfaction, and Bihua Lingjun tightened his embrace with equal contentment.
Bihua Lingjun had raised immortal beasts for countless years. He knew a little about a phoenix’s temperament as well.
This phoenix had been high above everyone from the moment he was born. So one must stroke his feathers in their natural direction, never against the grain.
This phoenix had always done whatever he pleased. So one must indulge him, never make him feel constrained.
This phoenix had a scandalous history, a love of beautiful faces, and no steadiness whatsoever. So first one must give him a comfort unlike any other, such that without it he would feel lonely.
One day, perhaps, he would understand what love was.
One day, perhaps, he would willingly fold his feathers and settle in one place alone.
And now, at last, this peerless phoenix, unique throughout Heaven and earth, had been caught.
The corners of Bihua Lingjun’s mouth lifted.
Ruyi Egg.
Ruyi, Egg.
Ruyi’s egg.
What an excellent name indeed.
The End
Elio’s Notes: Two Shen Yan names and the title: The older seventh brother is 沈言 (Shěn Yán, “speech”), while Bihua Lingjun, originally the eighth brother, is 沈宴 (Shěn Yàn, “banquet”). Their given names sound nearly identical, which is why Danzhu mistakes one for the other. Ruyi (如意), Bihua’s Daoist name, also means “as one wishes.” The closing phrases play on both “Ruyi’s egg” and the novel’s title, Wishful Egg.