Fox ... in striped socks.

Or, the chapter that turns the ending of the Guardian drama into a happy ending. Translated for @lady-eden, to whom i recced 40eps of fluff and pain.

Original Chinese character count: 10201
translated word count: 9184
original text: https://www.bilibili.com/read/cv838549/

(1)

“… and then click on this. Now all you have to do is make up a payment PIN.” Zhao Yunlan hands the cellphone to Shen Wei, but after a moment of thinking he doesn’t wait for Shen Wei to take it and does it for him. “Forget it. I did it for you — it’s not like you have a new one anyway.”

Teacher Shen is stubbornly kind, has no concept of security, and all his PIN codes are just their street number.

Zhao Yunlan says, “Good thing you don’t have much money.”

Theoretically, comrade Shen Wei knows how to live just fine, and if he’s equally competent in handling his personal affairs — food, clothes, a place to live — as he is in administering the three realms, then he must be doing so adequately with plenty of energy to spare.

[TN. Three realms: desires, form, and formlessness]

Realistically, Shen Wei doesn’t know how to take care of himself at all — in chaotic times he would find some place out of the way and seclude himself, and when the world’s at peace he would make do with a rented room. He has wandered among mortals for many years, clean and free without making or worrying about money. Never mind buying property and settling down; until now, aside from a university-issued salary card he doesn’t own anything.

As for what’s between the earth and sky, the world’s mountains and valleys, the country’s administering its own tourism department and it’s not like they put aside a percentage for him.

“Come, let me teach you how to send a red pocket.” Zhao Yunlan hooks an arm over Shen Wei’s shoulder, ruining his dignified pose, and using teaching as an excuse takes his phone and gives himself a red pocket, accepting it happily. “This century’s very last old antique has formally entered the age of mobile payments, an occasion to be celebrated … tch, what now.”

His phone’s ringing before he’s done talking. Zhao Yunlan gives it a mere glance before deciding he doesn’t want to pick it up, turning it over. Unexpectedly, the other side doesn’t give up and calls three times in a row, and as if they know he’s playing deaf, makes the next call on his office phone. Zhao Yunlan stretches a leg over the small sofa and pushes Daqing with a foot, midway through the cat’s focused personal grooming. “Hey, fatso, pick up the phone.”

Because Shen Wei is here, Daqing bristles but doesn’t say anything, angrily whipping his tail as he jumps onto the desk. He pretends the phone receiver is Zhao Yunlan’s face and smacks it with a paw. “Wai? Special … Oh?” Daqing laughs, “Your leadership’s looking for our Chief Zhao? Oh, he says he’s not here.”

Zhao Yunlan remains silent.

He turns his phone over and discovers that the last three calls weren’t made by the same person — the last two were from his dad, so he’s forced to crawl towards his desk with a new headache. “These ghost and goblins. Don’t they have anything better to do? They’re all bothering the old man by the back door.”

The Special Investigative Division, or the “Zhenhun Ling,” used to be also a “Daycare” and “Labour Reformation centre for convicted criminals.”

[TN. Zhen-hun can translate to Calm-Soul, or Guard-soul, but it’s more than that. The word 鎮/zhen is like holding down a sheet of paper beneath a weight, and I don’t want to water it down, so for the rest of this I’m just going to use Zhenhun, as is. When it’s referred to as the Zhenhun-Ling, it’s also a wooden plaque, and sometimes a paper and cinnabar copy. The ‘Ling" part is ambiguous — it’s the ‘command’ or ‘authority.’ Zhao Yunlan’s title is Zhenhun Lingzhu, or “Master of the Zhenhun Token,” but often only ‘Lingzhu’ is used, which can be translated to ‘Lord.’]

Outside of the mortal Xiao Guo, or Wang Zheng and Sangzan, comrades who’s been taken in by Zhenhun Lingzhu, the members of their staff can be roughly sorted into two categories: ones like Zhu Hong and Lin Jing, sent by their leaders or family to train and to gain experience in The Way, or the other kind like Chu Shuzhi, a convicted felon working off his time. To begin with, because the Zhenhun Ling was established to coordinate the three realms and to keep peace in the mortal realm, it’s really a thankless job: the everyday chore of wiping the asses of so-called evil perpetrators notwithstanding, they need to adhere to all the minutiae of society’s laws. There’s no real enlightenment to be had following their mortal of a boss around, so not many experts are willing to join them.

But now, things are different since the Great Seal shattered in a big way, the four holy artefacts returning to their places, the Great Wheel established, the Ghost King gaining godhood, Kunlun reclaiming his altar. Even though these facts are not well known, to those who are connected in the three realms, they are not really secrets, either. So the thankless, bitterly low paying work at the S.I.D. has become sweet dim sum overnight and everyone wants to join in order to rub shoulders with gods. Zhao Yunlan just hates to be bothered, and he refuses them all with the excuse of, “Can’t fit so many names on the Zhenhun Ling.”

However, even though the Zhenhun Ling can’t bear so many names, the Special Investigative Division can — The S.I.D. is an administrative agency.

And so in order to gain some connection to the Zhen Hun token, some smart people has gone around making noise, forcing the original S.I.D. into restructuring. Dragon City’s S.I.D. has morphed into “Special Investigative Bureau” and every region gets their own agency; it’s become quite an organisation.

In this way, Department Head Zhao — Zhao Chu — who spends most of his time lying about in the attic of 9 University Road has somehow lain his way into becoming Bureau Chief Zhao — Zhao Ju.

This is the first year the S.I.B. started officially recruiting after their restructuring. The Zhao Yunlan who’s quite happy passing the years quietly planting vegetables in the S.I.B. yard has been dragged out of his attic to manage the recruitment. Even though none of these newbies are to be entered into the Zhenhun Ling, they’re still to join a ‘branch office,’ and Zhao Yunlan doesn’t want to invite a bunch of shoddy staff members on the quality of unformed melons just to make up the numbers — it’s not like he’s short on idiots — and now that the bureau’s manpower’s limited, it’s impractical to have a big recruitment fair. This is why they’ve only sent out a small number of registration forms to each tribe and sect, to let their leaders choose their own candidates.

In order to get a few more registration forms, the experts from everywhere are pulling out all the stops — making like the eight gods crossing the seas, working miracles.

“Wai?” Zhao Yunlan lazily picks up the phone, sighs, “Isn’t an old man like you retired by now? Why are you wasting your time on this instead of organising with some old ladies and going square dancing? Nobody asked you to go around networking — Ugh…”

Daqing perks up his ears, taking in the robust long form essay from the other side in all rounded news-syllables. Zhao Yunlan tries to interrupt, coming up with excuses, “I’m not, I didn’t,” without avail, and finally he gives up and leans on the edge of the table, nothing to do but to go from studying the ceiling to staring at Teacher Shen’s god-level dust-free clean cuffs, finding himself seriously missing Shennong Bo — at least mister broken bowl didn’t have all this desire to monologue.

[TN: Shennong’s ascended medicine pot / 農藥缽 was the one possessing Yunlan’s father in the book.]

Lately, the retired old director’s been the object of too many heartfelt visits by strangers, and once he figures out what’s happening, explodes in a fit of anger. It’s already 2018 and he’s never imagined that there are still people who would go to such lengths — to knock at such an out of the way backdoor — to get some rotten registration forms. How is this organisation run?

So he decides to call his son to give him a thorough lecture.

Zhao Yunlan answers as if reading a Buddhist prayer, “Yes, I know … you said it … no, I’m not using this opportunity to take bribes. The resources really are limited, we have too many applicants, we really can’t meet them all … I have not corroded away, it’s not as if we’re getting acid rain in Dragon City … no, I don’t need to have a smart mouth everyday. I’m facing the wall in serious reflection of my wrongs everyday, really, nipping all the bad in the bud … if you don’t believe me, ask Shen Wei!”

There are three knocks on the office door, and Lin Jing sticks his head in holding a calendar, but not before facing Shen Wei and greeting him with a fist in hand. “Thank you Teacher Shen — leader, tomorrow’s Duanwu, the Dragon Boat Festival. I’m asking on behalf of everyone in the department: are you sending out holiday gifts?”

Zhao Yunlan, craning his neck to keep a phone receiver held between his chin and his shoulder, happens to have no energy for this, points at the door. “I’m sending a notice on how to pass the holiday with integrity. Get out!”

Representative Lin takes the blow and runs away in disgrace.

But Zhu Hong is already knocking just as he leaves. “Thank you Teacher Shen — Zhao Ju, my Sishu asked me to arrange a dinner. A few leaders from the yao tribes want to pay their respects,” she sighs, “I’m only passing on the request. They’re pretty annoying so if you don’t feel like going, don’t go. You don’t have to worry about giving me face.”

[TN. Sishu just means fourth uncle. 蛇/snake is pronounced Shé and after this I’m just going to use that as a last name.]

[TN. 妖 / Yao is generally translated to demon / monster, but in Chinese myth they’re mostly ‘ascended’ souls, not evil by nature. They’re not exactly ‘beasts’ either — you can have an ascended rock or a tree, and in the case of the being that possessed Yunlan’s father, a god’s medicine pot. They’re all ‘yao.’]

Zhu Hong is one of their own, and truly he doesn’t need to worry about such superficial bullshit as giving face when it comes to her, but the yao tribes are Kunlun Jun’s spiritual descendents, and in the ‘face’ of the yao tribe elders he’s left with no choice but to respect them. Zhao Yunlan can only wave at Zhu Hong helplessly.

[TN. Jun is an honorific tacked onto any man from a monarch to a scholar.]

The moment Zhu Hong turns around, she nearly run right into Chu Shuzhi, who’s is in such a hurry he only had time to nod at her. “Wait — Lao Zhao, something’s happened. Someone’s … pulled a trick on the application forms.”

Shen Wei, who has been firmly focused on playing with his phone hears this and raises his head. “What is it?”

In the everyday work of the S.I.B, Shen Wei tend not to participate in conversations unless someone asks him a question; this time, when he cuts in on his own, it is because the “watermark” on the application form is something he helped create. The Zhanhun Shi guarded the Great Seal and did not misspent these five thousand years; every leader of every tribe, from their celebrated beginnings to their bitter ends lived beneath his watchful eye. His entire person is a living “Lost Magics library” … but since no one dares to come buy the rights from him, this “library” remains poor.

[TN. Zhanhun Shi / 斬魂使 literally: cut-soul-person. I could call him “Soul Slayer” but a name is a name. Shi is an honorific, of sorts. In this case an occupational one.]

Chu Shuzhi says, “The application deadline’s still ten days away, but the applications we’ve received has already exceeded the numbers we sent out — oh, right, thank you Teacher Shen.”

Shen Wei creases his brows.

“Gather them all and let me take a look.” Zhao Yunlan puts down the phone and walks over. “Ai, speaking of which, what kind of code word is ‘Thank you Teacher Shen’? Why is everyone coming in saying that?”

Shen Wei says, “Ugh…”

Chu Shuzhi says, “It’s for the red pockets Teacher Shen’s been gifting — Duanwu holiday bonus, right?”

Zhao Yunlan takes the phone out of Shen Wei’s hands to have a look. Within the time he took his call, Student Shen Wei has firmly grasped the concept of mobile payments. He even seriously worked in some after class practice — he went through his contact list and sent out a red pocket to every person in the bureau.

It’s not even a group red pocket, a free for all battle, first come first served. Teacher Zhao hasn’t managed to teach that lesson. He’s sent them out one by one.

He’s gone through half the contact list and still has the other half left, but there’s no money left in his account.

Their Teacher Shen treats money like game money — instant redeeming, the kind that doesn’t require exchange to virtual dollars.

Zhao Yunlan is silent.

Shen Wei silently questions.

“No…thing,” Zhao Yunlan drags the word out to two miles, and from outside the two miles sends back a painful smile, “If you don’t have money I’ll send you some. Don’t leave the other half, keep sending them until you’re done. Ah,” he laughs, “You’re a fast learner.”

[TN. A 裡 / li is a Chinese mile, in modern times, it is half of a km.]

And in this way at this year’s Duanwu, everyone still received their holiday bonus, sponsored by a certain Mr. Zhao. They were all extremely thankful.

(2)

All of the problematic registration forms has been piled into the basement. Though the light isn’t on, it isn’t dark, either; the faint silvery glow of the forms gathered together rivals an entire row of fluorescent tubes.

Wang Zheng and Sangzan works into daylight overtime. When Zhao Yunlan and his group comes down the stairs, they’d just finished grouping the forms by tribe and area.

The registration forms were elegantly designed, sent out in white envelopes with a little stamp, and all of them were made by Shen Wei. The form belongs to whomever can open the seal, and if someone else takes it they won’t be able to record anything in it. It’s the equivalent of a written exam — as a standard written exam would be impractical. For one, each person has their own speciality, for two, lots of experts hiding in the forests and the mountains to train can’t read simplified Chinese.

Sangzan says, “Zhao Ju, Speaking Of Which, we have sent out 729 registration forms, and At This Very Moment we have received just over 1560.”

[TN. Sangzan is using unnecessary 4-character idioms. When he does, I capitalise the words.]

Zhao Yunlan says, “The difference is that much?”

Sangzan sighs, “Yes, What A Splendid Sight.”

Zhao Yunlan doesn’t say anything.

Brother Sangzan has been exceedingly ambitious in his years working for the S.I.D, studious in his studies. By now his spoken Mandarin is already clear and concise and he’s discarded the terrible nickname of “jieba,” so having raised standards for himself he’s teaching himself idioms, often tries to quote old texts wholesale. Thus began another round of trying his colleagues’ patience.

[TN. The word 結巴 / Stammer is pronounced Jiēbā. Daqing used to call Sangzan this, and when asked what it meant, Daqing replied that it’s an honorific denoting respect. 潔扒 / Jiébā was how Sangzan mispronounced the word for stammer. It doesn’t mean anything.]

Zhao Yunlan is nearly used to this already, and with familiar ease disregards all the four-character words out of Sangzan’s mouth, waving dismissively to say, “You’ve worked hard.”

“Where Be Such Reasoning? It wasn’t hard at all,” Sangzan answers with a smile. “I Own Nothing But What I Need, and what I am able to contribute is merely A Hair From the Backs of Nine Bulls.”

Zhao Yunlan feels as though his life is being shortened, but Wang Zheng doesn’t seem to care as she stands to the side with an indulgent expression, only know to look at him and smile like an idiot.

“Whatever, as long as you’re happy.” Zhao Yunlan says helplessly, “Hurry up and clock out, you two.”

Shen Wei’s ‘watermark’ isn’t something that just anyone can make bootleg copies of — not to mention to imitate it so expertly. During the time Zhao Yunlan and Sangzan had their conversation, he already managed to flip through all of the forms.

Chu Shuzhi says, “Teacher Shen, what do you think? Honestly, I can’t tell the difference.”

Shen Wei doesn’t make a sound; after contemplating a moment he makes a waving gesture and the glowing registration forms scatter like butterflies, moving away from the order Wang Zheng and Sangzan’s sorted them in. In a confusion of light and shadow the forms fall into two piles, one obviously thicker than the other.

Zhao Yunlan pulls on his pants’ cuffs and half crouches, checking a few out of each stack. He points at the thicker pile and asks, “All of these are identical?”

Shen Wei nods.

Listening in, Chu Shuzhi is confused. “And if it’s not? If they’re identical doesn’t that mean you can’t tell if it’s fake?”

“No,” Shen Wei says. “He means the seal on top of each envelope.”

Even though every seal on each envelope looks exactly the same, the method to open them are different. This way, they can sort among the talents and the abilities of each, and it prevents the registrants from comparing their answers with each other.

When they sent out the registration forms, the different types of seals were sent out according to the tribes. For example, the snake tribes favour water, and opening the seal requires burning it with the Samadhi true flame, forcing the registrant to do something they wouldn’t want to do.

Of course, all the seals of the returning envelopes have already been broken, but the scent left behind is enough for its creator to see the problem — every seal in the thicker stack of forms are identical, obviously made by taking one and making duplicates.

Shen Wei says, “When we sent out the forms, I left a trace on each and every one. We can figure out which sect or tribe we’ve sent this one to.”

Chu Shuzhi stares, wide-eyed and shocked. “No way … wait a second! Seven hundred odd forms, every single one is different? And you’ve left an identifying trace?”

“Mmhmm.” Shen Wei adjusts his glasses. “What about it?”

Chu Shuzhi is silent.

No wonder the bureau has never mentioned requisitioning labour costs for their consultant; if they get charged the market rate, it seems they would only be able to afford him by selling off Kunlun Jun.

With a clue, the rest is easy. After a simple check of their records, they find out that the problematic form went to a yao tribe — the water tribes of the South China Sea.

Zhao Yunlan stands. “Tell Zhu Hong to call her Sishu.”

In general, the yao tribes are separated into birds, beasts, water-dwelling, and the ascended, which is to say: ones that fly in the sky, ones that run on the earth, ones that swim in the water, then there are the stones, grass, and trees that’s gained spirits. Those are then sorted into specific types, each with a place they call home.

Because the S.I.B.’s Zhu Hong is a part of the snake tribe and their leader Sishu is quite capable, treats his work and private matters as separate entities, the snake tribes can be said to have someone on the inside, but knows to not exploit their position, and he’s become especially respected. In a few short years he’s already become the leader of the yoa tribes, and whenever something goes wrong with the yao tribes, they speak to the She Sishu.

Not even five minutes after the She Sishu takes his niece’s phone call, he’s braved the blazing sun to arrive at 9 University Road. He’s briefed, and apologising formally to Kunlun Jun, knows he hasn’t face to ask for more registration forms. Turning, the old man personally rolls up his sleeves — heading off to the South China Sea to catch the bastard.

[3]

“Actually it is rather strange, if you think about it,” Shen Wei says as he slices up ham in the kitchen after they’ve come home. “There are mountains beyond mountains, talents I cannot imagine, so I can’t absolutely guarantee something I make can’t be duplicated. But that envelope is quite simple, and a real expert would be able to tell every seal is different. Why would they do something so stupid as to make hundreds of copies?”

Zhao Yunlan leans uselessly on the kitchen counter; he never helps, only ever gets in the way. He picks pieces of ham off the the cutting board to snack on as Shen Wei slices. “What about a holy artefact? The pollution in these times hasn’t helped the quality of the yao tribes any, but each tribe has their own history — maybe some holy item passed down from their ancestors.”

Shen Wei finishes slicing the ham, and after a moment of silent contemplation turns to get a plate. “But I can’t think about what it could be, right now …”

Something so amazing it can duplicate the seal of a natural ghost king, and to use it to do something as silly as this — what holy artefact could it be?

Creator God Pangu branded Photocopier?

By the time he turns around with a plate for the sliced ham, Shen Wei discovers that someone’s taken all the ham off the cutting board.

Shen Wei doesn’t say anything.

Zhao Yunlan follows his gaze like he’s slow on the uptake, and chewing with lightning speed swallows the ‘evidence.’ He stretches like a cat, as if the case of the missing ham has nothing to do with him at all.

Shen Wei asks, “… It’s not too salty?”

He hears a sound like a click in his chest before Zhao Yunlan escapes the kitchen fearing the repercussion of his crimes, and both of them turn to look toward the southern skies.

Shen Wei asks, “What was that?”

“I don’t know, but …” Zhao Yunlan squints. “It feels like the three sovereigns. Wai, Zhu Hong?”

[TN. The era of the three sovereigns and five emperors. In Zhen Hun, there was a battle between the three sovereigns and 蚩尤/Chiyou. I’ll link all the myths at the end of this.]

“Lao Zhao, something’s happened to my Sishu!”

“Calm down, tell me slowly.”

“Didn’t he leave for the South China Sea? The tribe just sent news, the leader’s life lamp has suddenly gone out! My Sishu he …”

“Don’t panic,” Zhao Yunlan says. “When a yao as great as he falls there would be visions — it wouldn’t be without a trace like this. Maybe he’s had a bit of an accident and his connection with his life lamp’s been severed. Let’s do this — have the snake tribe bring your Sishu’s life lamp, and I’ll go look for him with Shen Wei.”

They don’t have time to eat dinner properly so Shen Wei hurriedly stuffs their half prepared ingredients into the fridge. It looks like they’ll just have to order in when they come back later.

Another elder from the snake tribe sends over She Sishu’s life lamp. Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei shortens the distance into a mere inch, and within the blink of an eye they arrive at the South China Sea.

Ever since the tourist industry began developing the South China Sea, the water tribe’s shrimp soldiers and crab commanders, useless to begin with, has somehow gotten worse. The little yao, seduced by the twin promises of sunny beaches and palm trees, spend their days wearing tropical swim trunks to pass their days among the humans. But the humans finish their vacations and go back to work and school, do what they’re supposed to do, while these dumbass little yao simply follow the next set of tourists and continue to play around. Their cultivation has flat-lined, and even their study towards enlightenment has been delayed as they sun their shrimp shells and fish scales to a golden malt.

It stands to reason that when the snake tribe’s leader make a personal visit, this gang of under-trained garbage must greet him with a banner. Which sea urchin gave them the courage to rebel?

[TN. 海膽 / Sea urchin is written literally “sea gallbladder.” In English, you say someone with courage as having “guts,” in Chinese, you say they have “gallbladder.”]

Could it be their daily chore of sitting on the shore drinking fresh water has done something to their osmotic pressure, and their gall’s gone swollen?

Anyway, Zhao Yunlan can’t figure it out.

When they arrive at the South China Sea, it is to find the water tribes there in disarray; when they heard that Kunlun Jun and the Ghost King Dianxia has come for them, the ones in charge of the tribes started pissing themselves. They’re all kneeling on the sand, in their shorts and bare arms, faces towards the sand and backs to the sky; each person’s back has been tattooed a single word, and strung together it reads, “This generation has committed sins worthy of ten thousand deaths, to the gods above we offer an apology.”

[TN. Dianxia is an honorific for kings/queens]

It’s such an amazing sight even the hermit crabs dare not show their faces.

“Get up. What are you all doing? We’re here to talk. Stop being so embarrassing!” Zhao Yunlan sits at the edge of a cloud, and so struck by the sight he can feel a constant pulse at his temple — they can’t even get down, there isn’t any space on the beach. “I don’t get it. It’s been a hundred years since we buried such an archaic cultural practice — how is it that it’s still intact among you yao tribes? Think before you act!”

The South China Sea is rich in resources, the seafood … no, the types of yao belonging to the water tribes varied, and this branch of the water tribe tend to live all mixed together, with the tribe leaders forming an alliance. The alliance’s director is a 3000 year old big turtle, with the vice director being a 2500 year old sea cucumber.

the two directors are a golden partnership without conflict, and Zhao Yunlan listens to the weepy sounding report as they relate the cause of the problem but only manages to get through half of it before he feels his immortal soul go eight turns around the thirty-six mountains and valleys — his gaze going unfocused — and for the first time feels as though their Guo Changcheng is a smart and cunning boy.

It must be difficult, but Shen Wei listens to the end. “That is to say, your honourable tribe leader in charge of watching over the forbidden sanctuary did not receive a registration form, and in indignation he stole one and used the sanctuary to make a large number of copies?”

The sea turtle director says, sighing, “Yes, that person’s original form was a barracuda, and they sold the fake registration forms making massive profits. He used the proceeds to buy areca nuts in bulk and has already gone on the run.”

“…It doesn’t matter what he bought in bulk, let’s leave that aside for now.” Shen Wei says, “Is it convenient for us to know what your honourable tribe is holding in the sanctuary? How were the registration forms duplicated?”

The sea cucumber answers with a bitter expression. “Your honour, aside from generations of barracuda charged with watching the sanctuary, none of us yao dare approach the area. According to the ancestors, an old holy artefact was sealed away there. Right — the leader of the snake tribes has come by, said he didn’t understand our explanation at all and insisted on investigating the sanctuary. We didn’t dare keep him, but not long after he went inside, the South China Sea had a sudden and huge quake, and he never came back. We still don’t know what happened!”

Shen Wei tuns his head so he could meet Zhao Yunlan’s gaze, and Zhao Yunlan wakes from his nap, straightening his back. “Ai, then quit blabbering and lead the way.”

By this time, the night has darkened. It is not yet Duanwu and the moon is hidden, the sea heavy and thick seeming, but it looks like something restless and gigantic has awoken in the deep, causing unending waves that seem to resonate with the beating of Zhao Yunlan’s heart. They’re still more than two hundred miles from the sanctuary, but the two directors from the water tribes are already so terrified their faces have turned white, and cannot be convinced to go another step.

The vice-director says, “In the past we dared to patrol the sanctuary during the holidays, but from the day that stinking fish moved what it ought not, the sanctuary has become more horrifying day by day. At first, it was only the ten miles outside it, and now over a hundred miles, we can’t — can’t breathe …”

As he says this, the vice director’s eyes roll and turn white and they sinks into the water as if they’re lacking in both blood and air. The blade in Shen Wei’s hand flashes like a dark shadow, and the Zhanhun blade appears, then in the blink of an eye stretches to dozens of feet long. With the scabbard still on, he promptly fishes up the sea cucumber from the deep.

Director sea turtle has no time to bother with politeness just now, and with a quick fist in hand bow changes into their natural form, picks up their partner, and swims away quick as a torpedo.

Two dark shadows quickly skim over the undercurrent towards the South China Sea forbidden sanctuary.

The nearer they get to the sanctuary, the quieter the water becomes, and as they near at the fifty mile mark, the surface becomes unnaturally still, as if an invisible hand is flattening it by force until there isn’t even a ripple, until the water seem stagnant.

Very quickly, Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei arrives at the heart of the sanctuary. There’s a strange whirlpool here, its diameter no wider than two metres, spinning rapidly, and like a needle it pierces all the way down to the sea floor. There’s a saying that even the sharpest blade cannot part water, but the water within and the water without looks like it’s been parted with something — The inside spins at breakneck speed; the outside doesn’t move a hair.

There’s a hint of darkness woven into the air above the whirlpool, calling Shen Wei’s Zhanhun blade — they’re as related as waters that flow from the same stream.

“If it’s a holy artefact left behind by some god during the time of chaos, it could very well react negatively with me.” Shen Wei says, “If they’d tried to copy anything else it may have been fine, but that registration form carried a trace of me. It must have provoked what’s sealed here — loosened the seal… And when She Sishu rushed in here he must have added flame to the fuel. I think the seal is already mostly broken — do you have any inkling of what’s in here?”

Zhao Yunlan creases his eyebrows and thinks for a while before shaking his head. “I haven’t seen it, but …”

Something inside the briefcase in his hand suddenly flashes; it’s She Sishu’s life lamp, brightening. A life lamp is actually a candle protected by a dragon pearl; it’s like a crystal lamp, shuddering as if it’s about to stop breathing. Its weak light falls onto the surface of the sea and quickly gathers into a line, pointing towards the whirlpool.

Soon after, the dragon pearl outside the life lamp cracks without warning, and quickly disintegrates. Its feeble flame jumps once, and Zhao Yunlan instinctively tries to protect it with his hand, but the whirlpool on the water suddenly explodes in all directions, and the stars above scatter like dust in a storm. Nearly at once, Shen Wei pulls Zhao Yunlan close behind him with a sweeping arm and wields his blade like a shield in front of them.

But soon Shen Wei can feel that something is wrong — his hand did not touch Zhao Yunlan.

Shen Wei turns to look in surprise, and finds that though they are barely apart, there is a transparent membrane between them. Zhao Yunlan is saying something, but his voice can’t reach him, so Shen Wei can only read his lips. He’s saying, “These bubbles are …”

Bubbles?

Shen Wei looks all around him. She Sishu’s life lamp reflects and refracts, light and shadow overlapping. It reveals the countless membranes surrounding them, tight like densely packed soap bubbles. A faint mirage-like shadow can be seen on each ‘bubble,’ and for a shocking moment they can see a million Zhao Yunlan, a million Shen Wei. As the two people in their individual bubbles drifts apart, Shen Wei’s eyes redden, and he unsheathes the Zhanhun blade, immediately cutting at whatever’s between them.

With a sudden boom, the Zhanhun blade that can cut through anything feels as though it’s been stuck in thick mud, and countless strange ‘bubbles’ are shattered by that single stroke. But many more ‘bubbles’ are rising from the sea floor as waves high as mountains crowd the surface of the sea. With a sharp and loud sound like an axe wielded by Pangu parting chaos to form the sky and sea, the mountains shakes and the ocean boils, and Shen Wei’s view darkens —

(4)

When Zhao Yunlan wakes with a start, he’s still holding onto the short candle from a life lamp with a pea-sized flame. He tries to move and is momentarily stunned, a shocked expression flashing across his face.

Slowly, Zhao Yunlan lowers his eyes, his gaze falling onto his right foot … he’s sprained an ankle.

Kunlun Jun’s incarnation is impervious to blades and guns, and neither the cold nor the heat bothers him. Since his god soul awakened six years ago, Zhao Yunlan has forgotten what a mosquito bite looks like. He never imagined he’d end up spraining his ankle at the South China Sea!

On the one hand he’s gritting his teeth over the pain, on the other he finds it rather interesting. He runs a hand over it, determines that it’s not serious, and carefully leans on the wall to stand. As he stands, he realises something is wrong; his arms and legs feels so heavy they don’t seem his own — Kunlun Jun’s ability to move freely between the heavens and the earth and to crush the three realms beneath his feet has simply disappeared.

Not only that, but his Bright-Mirror wristwatch has stopped, the half dozen charm papers left in his wallet has turned into regular newsprint that doesn’t react at all, he can’t summon his bullwhip — and even the Zhenhun Ling bound to his blood is laying in his palm without a hint of life, turned into a perfectly normal plaque of wood.

Zhao Yunlan raises She Sishu’s life lamp and takes a look around him — it’s desolate to the extreme. With a glance he can see that none of the street lamps are lit, and the street is lined on both sides by uneven, half broken down houses, and the air is thick with dust.

It’s like an old ruin.

He takes a couple of unsteady steps before he has to stop, shaking out the sand in his shoes. Each breath feels like acupuncture, needles pricking at his lungs, and an ache in his heart come and goes, making it hard to breathe. When he was a mortal, Zhao Yunlan can’t say he was perfectly healthy, but he wasn’t plagued with illnesss either … maybe he’s become unused to mortality?

Zhao Yunlan, dragging his somewhat heavy body, walks around the street once. His cell phone has no signal as he checks the time.

20:45.

The little plate of ham he pinched from the cutting board before dinner had been barely enough to fill the gaps between his teeth, and after the sprained ankle and the aching chest, this mortal body is making him remember what it feels like to have stomach problems.

He hears something go “meow” and sees a black cat jumping from the branch of a dead tree near him onto a roof, padding delicately over the broken up stones on the top of a wall, tail raised high and in no hurry at all. From every angle it looks like little Daqing — with a neck and a waist and all, a picture of the youthful days before he got fat!

Zhao Yunlan has a habit of calling cats and dogs whenever he sees them, so he whistles at the cat. In the moment the cat’s green eyes turn his way, Zhao Yunlan notices it holding a paper charm in its mouth. Before he’s able to have a good look, the sky and the earth suddenly spins — the cat disappears, the street twists and warps, and Zhao Yunlan loses his footing as though stepping on air, falling heavily towards the ground. His right foot, pain finally fading from the last fall, twists again.

Zhao Yunlan hisses in pain, then he’s stunned to find out he’s right back where he woke the last time.

He helps himself up against the same wall, and barely walks a step before he feels that something doesn’t feel right with his feet — the sand he’s spilled out of his shoes are back.

Zhao Yunlan’s pupils shrink a bit as he realises something, and taking out his phone, he checks the time.

20:35.

This is … ten minutes ago?

Zhao Yunlan takes quick steps along the street, holding onto his phone to keep track of the time. Ten minutes later, sure enough, that black cat appears again in the same pose, jumping out from the same place. This time, Zhao Yunlan doesn’t try to catch the attention of the magical cat, but stays in the corner to observe for a bit instead.

The cat holding a charm in its mouth raises a paw and takes five steps … and the sky-spinning-street-warping feeling is back!

Again, Zhao Yunlan returns to ten minutes ago.

This goes on for two, three times, and Zhao Yunlan doesn’t even bother standing up again — it’s not easy taking off these shoes.

This world is like a repeating song; the song is about 10 minutes, the space within isn’t overly large, either. He’s been trapped within these 10 minutes, time cycling over and over again.

Zhao Yunlan runs his hand along the wall, and he thinks about the strange ‘bubbles’ he saw when he was separated from Shen Wei.

‘Bubbles’ … time that goes in a cycle …

Suddenly, Zhao Yunlan stands, and again he pours the sand out of his shoes, and this time, he runs through the desolately empty streets. In the very moment that cat appears, he clamps onto the life lamp with his mouth and takes a running start, grabbing the edge of the roof so he can run up the short wall onto the roof. With one arm he sweeps up the spitting, angry cat, and digs the paper charm out of its mouth, flipping over for a landing. Before his feet hit the ground the time for space and time to orient back to its starting point has nearly come. Zhao Yunlan quickly moves the paper charm onto the flame of the life lamp. It catches fire. At the same time, Zhao Yunlan hears a bang next to his ear as if something has shattered, and the cat in his hand turns into a spiral of pale smoke.

Zhao Yunlan stumbles for a few steps, and when he looks up again he discovers that he hasn’t been sent to the starting point — the street in front of him has undergone some subtle changes. A single street lamp has been lit, the air is far less dusty, the tree is no longer bare. Though it only gained a few leaves, it is at least alive.

Zhao Yunlan brushes off the dust on his clothes. “Is that so.” He sucks his teeth, says, “I thought there was some treasure here in the South China Sea, but no, I find only problems.”

Everyone knows that you can’t actually turn back time, and a person can’t run wild over their own timeline. By the same token, cause and effect is unbreakable.

Before Kunlun Jun returned to his altar, Zhao Yunlan once travelled back eleven years to 2002, but in reality that wasn’t true time travel. It was the agricultural god Shennong taking an eleven year reincarnation wheel and storing it in a scale of Nuwa, the half snake mother goddess. The “little wheel” was a world like a mustard seed moulded by Shennong: a world much like our own but only an illusion. He’s taken a turn in a mustard seed.

[DN. 壬午年 is utterly untranslatable but it’s 2002, okay? See: sexagenary cycle. ‘Mustard seed world’ is likely named for the parable of the Sumeru mountain contained in a mustard seed, or ‘The Sumeru Mountain contains a mustard seed, and a mustard seed contains the Sumeru Mountain’ and the ending of THAT story states that the worlds are ever-changing and therefore unreal.]

Back then, when She Sishu passed the Nuwa scale to him, Zhao Yunlan walked into this mustard seed on his own without suspicion. The time in the seed cycles and so Zhao Yunlan flows along with the wheel, arriving at eleven years ago … until Shen Wei used the Zhanhun blade to cut the seed open from the outside, dragging him back to reality.

The ‘bubble’ that separated him and Shen Wei must be just like the little wheel that was eleven years long — every ‘bubble’ is a world undergoing a repeating segment of time.

There exist simple worlds that cycles every ten minutes, and there also could be worlds that cycle only once a million years, infinitely realistic, vast and infinitely complex.

So this isn’t any sort of ‘holy artefact’ at all. When the ancient gods were trying to create the true reincarnation wheel they’d gone down the wrong road, and this is the left over garbage from their experiments, sealed away in the South China Sea — unexpectedly disturbed by the Ghost King’s life force via this copy incident, and then crashed into by a great yao, causing it to resurface in the human world.

Zhao Yunlan raises his head to look at the street lamp, and thinks, “I knew it — none of you would leave me any actual inheritance. You all only ever leave me messes that need cleaning up.”

Now, he has no idea which year and month Shen Wei’s been stolen off to; it would be impractical to expect his blade as reinforcement. Each of these endlessly repeating worlds can only be broken through from the inside.

This isn’t difficult — each mustard seed has a connection with reality, and it is from this connection that Zhao Yunlan can enter from the outside. Find it, break it, and the seed will have nothing to cling to, and disappear like a flame after it dies.

For example, the ‘connecting point’ of the eleven-year wheel from back then was the mysterious book, ‘Unusual Ancient Legends.’

At the time, the Zhao Yunlan from the real world had one, and there was another one in the little Wheel. When he brought the book into the little Wheel, the two identical ‘Unusual Ancient Legends’ became one, the seed world and the real world ‘sticking’ together; illusion and reality overlapping.

That Zhao Yunlan urgently wanted to find out what Shen Wei was hiding from him, and followed the book desperately without any thought of destroying it. But if, when he’d acquired the ‘Unusual Ancient Legends’ in the little Wheel, he’d burned it, the cause and effect of the little wheel would have seriously departed from the cause and effect of reality, and the world within the wheel would disappear like smoke, not needing Shen Wei to cut through it with his blade.

If he’d burned the copy of ‘Unusual Ancient Legends’ from inside the wheel and returned to reality, the real book should still be in his hands, and wouldn’t forever stay in the little wheel to cycle forever.

As for the real ‘Unusual Ancient Legends,’ it was in all likelihood sneaked into the S.I.D. by Shennong Bo.

Now, these overlapping mustard seed worlds look like ‘bubbles,’ with Zhao Yunlan’s shadows projected into them, and each one would duplicate something he carries, becoming the ‘connecting point’ between each seed world and reality: his stopped Bright-Mirror wristwatch, the paper charm that’s now wastepaper, the Zhenhun Ling becoming normal wood, the bullwhip he cannot summon … even the immortality of Kunlun Jun.

Zhao Yunlan doesn’t know which object each world corresponds to, he can only search them one by one. He has to destroy something in each world and destroy the seed before that object will follow him back into reality.

“This is so much trouble,” Zhao Yunlan sighs. “If I knew this would happen I would have just gone back and organised an exam.”

This is all because of the imprudence of the South China Sea water tribes; when he gets back, he’s going to have a feast of sea food at a street food stall.

(5)

Zhao Yunlan has already forgotten how long he has lingered in countless seeds.

In the beginning, all the seeds were only simple scenes: a single broken down street, a dark and sunless city, the suburbs, underwater … and there were no other people at all. The cycle of time was as short as ten minutes and as long as three days, and what they duplicated were just small, inconsequential things.

But soon afterwards the seeds became more and more complicated, more and more immense, and other people began to appear, even the people he knows — for example, the seed that was about his Bright-Mirror wristwatch cycled for a full three years, the setting being Zhao Yunlan’s previous incarnation, living in the early years of the Republic.

The Bright-Mirror was passed down by the last Lord Zhenhun, or his last incarnation. He was chasing a kidnapper then, a mountain ghost or demon, and in the process shattered the face of his watch. The hostage was a child from an orphanage, and a man who proclaimed himself the Dean of the orphanage rushed to him and took away the child, and, on seeing that his watch was broken, told him he knew a good craftsman and he could have it fixed. When it’s returned the watch was already able to see between yin and yang, had become the magical treasure ‘Bright Mirror.’

Zhao Yunlan, observing coldly from the outside, watches the incarnation who shares his face slowly realise what’s happened to his watch, thus running off to the orphanage to find the dean only to find out that the dean is a short and stout nun and not at all the same person who took his watch away.

“Shen Wei ah,” Zhao Yunlan follows his past life, thinking of the origin of his watch, shaking his head and can’t help laughing, “you sneaky son of a gun.”

The repeating time loops become longer and longer, and when it exceeds fifty years, Zhao Yunlan finds himself no longer an observer of a seed world, but rather a part of it with his own identity, following the movie script of the world.

What happens in each seed world isn’t necessary from his memory; there are some that are very much like the memory of an incarnation with some subtle changes, and some are utterly strange and wonderfully new with flashes of familiarity in between. Zhao Yunlan prefers the latter, because in the five thousand years of memories of the time he spent in the wheel of reincarnation, Shen Wei made few appearances. On the rare occasion that they run into each other, he only catches a glimpse before Shen Wei is gone. But in the fabricated worlds, Shen Wei wears different identities and spends lifetimes by his side until they each find the object that breaks open the world … the real Shen Wei — as expected, Shen Wei’s Zhanhun blade has already been trapped inside. But even if he has the blade, he doesn’t dare use it, because if the world breaks from the outside, the duplicated item will become just like the book ‘Unusual Ancient Legend,’ forever left behind in this particular wheel.

Zhao Yunlan breaks through eighty mustard seeds. Each time he leaves one behind, the time reverts back to 20:35.

It feels like he has already lived through every life possible in the blink of an eye.

Fortunately, Kunlun Jun’s immortal soul was forged through a million years of reincarnation, and his mind remains as clear as when he took his first step. Finally, he arrives at the eighty-first seed.

Eighty-one, or nine by nine.

Zhao Yunlan has a premonition that this should be the very last world. Shen Wei is here too, but they couldn’t imagine that the cycle of time here runs as long as ten thousand years. The long stretch of time makes this feel real, and its binding force boundlessly strong. As he approaches the end of time, Zhao Yunlan still hasn’t found this world’s connecting point.

Everything he’s brought into these worlds, large and small — including the blood he carries in his heart and the bones of his spine — has already been shattered in the various Wheels. What could it be?

What is left?

(6)

Oh, right. His very self is what’s left.

The ego is enslaved by the physical body.

The heart is but a slave to material ambitions.

(7)

Zhao Yunlan emerges from the very last seed, and the world shakes as if a hundred thousand mountains are jumping like birds. A giant wave descend as though coming from the nine heavens, and the water parts before him like it wishes to make for him a road, to let the chaos-era mountain god rise between them.

At the same time, a sound like a shrill wind whistles by his ear and the Zhanhun blade appears out of nowhere to land on the ocean’s surface, the entire South China Sea looks about to be sliced in two. Zhao Yunlan suddenly opens his eyes, reaching into the rolling waves for the hand holding the blade. “Shen Wei!”

The giant wave recedes, revealing Shen Wei’s silhouette, looking even more distressed than him. At first glance Shen Wei seems like he hasn’t woken from the endless reincarnations, and for a while he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s alright,” Zhao Yunlan says quietly. “We’re back.”

Shen Wei falters, stumbling into him, strength leaving his body. His Zhanhun blade flutters downwards — onto the back of a giant snake, surfacing from the deep.

Oh good, Zhao Yunlan lets out a breath. She Sishu’s life lamp is still lit and the old wyrm is alive and well. Zhu Hong can keep sticking around at the S.I.B. to muddle up a salary and not have to be dragged back for a succession.

(8)

“Oh? Oh … oh! Then okay, that’s great.”

Early morning in the offices of 9 University Road, one can hear Guo Changcheng’s tone change many, many times. From shock, to helplessness … to embarrassment — Guo Changcheng says into the phone, embarrassed, “There isn’t anything I want, thank you leader. Really, I really don’t need … anything from the duty-free shop, you don’t need to worry about it, what’s important is that you have fun … ai, have fun, have a good vacation …”

Before he’s even finished passing on the last blessing, Chu Shuzhi and Lin Jing have already slapped their desks and are standing in anger, and Daqing has turned into an angry ball of fur.

Chu Shuzhi says, “Is that Lao Zhao — what did he mean? What do you mean good vacation? Is he serious?”

Lin Jing says, “He ran away? He just dropped everything and left? Where be the laws of the heavens?”

Daqing up jumps from the couch. “Why that shameless son of a — give me the phone.”

Guo Changcheng puts down the receiver apologetically. “He, he already hung up.”

Daqing roars, “Call him back! If he doesn’t pick up then call Teacher Shen!”

Predictably, Zhao Yunlan habitually turns off his phone after he hangs up.

But none of them can predict that —

Shen Wei stands barefoot on the beach, one hand clutching his collar, the other wrapped around his belt. His cheeks are already red from struggling, but he’d rather die than follow the local custom and change into a pair of swim trunks.

What is this? Such impropriety! Such indecency!

Zhao Yunlan runs after him. “Just try it, if you don’t try it how can you say it’s not a good thing? I promise you’ll like it. Shen Wei, Xiao Wei, my darling treasure … Doesn’t it bore you wearing black from head to toe all the time? This could be a gateway into a new world … Ai! Fine, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, no need to throw yourself into the ocean!”

Shen Wei, having been forced to the edge of the water, steps into the sea, his cell phone falling out of his pocket right on time for an incoming call. It rings once before the cell phone heroically sacrifices itself, the screen going black.

At 9 University Road, Gua Changcheng announces with an innocent expression, “Teacher Shen has hung up.”

“Meow —” Daqing collapses and yells, “How can Teacher Shen with his big eyes in such an honest face be capable of betraying us?!”

[TN. “沒想到你個濃眉大眼的都叛變革命了” / “I did not imagine a person like you with such thick eyebrows and big eyes would end up becoming a rebel” is a quote… from a 90’s movie.]

myths:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pangu
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nüwa
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shennong
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kunlun_(mythology)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiyou
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Flood_(China)

Anyway, that’s the entire thing, translated once, checked twice, feel free to send asks if unclear about anything. (You are not bothering me at all by asking me about the thing I love.)