Imperial Weight Chapter 13
Translated by Sylver (ko-fi)
Chapter 13
That year, Little Phoenix never did figure out whether that last cherry should be counted as odd or even. He was sent back to the pleasure house, returned to the world of pleasures where he had grown up freely.
According to his expectations, he had been away too long—once he returned, those who had been waiting to see him would surely come flocking. This was his life, and he had always been accustomed to it: accompanying guests for drinks, cup after cup, until his eyes grew hazy and his behavior unrestrained—only then would others be satisfied. His temperament was fierce, but he also knew that in this line of work he couldn't indulge his nature recklessly. Others said Feng Huang was proud and passionate, a rare treasure—all of it was an illusion he had carefully cultivated. He knew this pride was feigned; when he truly encountered powerful people, he would be obedient when needed. Flattery and ingratiating smiles were paramount.
He had always known he was a prostitute. Though his luck was better than others and his life more glamorous, he was still nothing more than a lowly person.
The beautiful young man had his future all calculated: as usual, he would spend his days meeting guests and drinking. On his seventeenth birthday, the pleasure house would hang out his sign and let wealthy patrons bid for his first night—this was called "deflowering." From that day forward, he should put aside the airs of a top courtesan and honestly receive clients.
Little Phoenix was not honest, nor did he plan to wait for that day. On the road back to the city, he claimed he needed to relieve himself, ran to a weapons shop at the street corner, bought a dagger, and tucked it securely in his sleeve.
When Xingyi helped him down from the carriage, he held his wrist, his fingertips lightly brushing across his deep red sleeve.
Little Phoenix opened his mouth but said nothing.
Seeing him like this, Xingyi actually smiled gently, reaching out to pat his head. "Wait for me."
Wait for you?
Little Phoenix picked at his fingers thinking, what use is waiting for you?
But what he hadn't expected was that from the day of his return, everything that happened in reality deviated from his expectations.
No one wanted to see him anymore, and the matrons no longer restricted his freedom. People came and went in the pleasure house, the sounds of wine cups clinking continued as usual, and those gazes that normally appraised him were still there, but overnight Little Phoenix suddenly had nothing to do. Overnight, he seemed to have become an outsider, separated from his role of pleasing others. There was even an inexplicable trace of awe in others' attitudes toward him.
What was going on?
Little Phoenix kept his questions bottled up inside. With nothing to do, he sat by the window again, chin in hand, looking down—and would watch for an entire day. It had been exactly five days since he last saw Xingyi. Little Phoenix had nothing to do, and indeed no one came looking for him.
The pleasure house had taken down his sign, but it didn't look like they were going to sideline him either. His food, clothing, and expenses were still the best, and others' attitudes toward him were beyond reproach. Little Phoenix kept alert, thinking someone wanted to harm him—most likely one of those high officials and nobles he had met before had gotten into trouble and wanted to use him as a scapegoat. Keeping him quietly contained like this without telling him why, the killing blade was probably still on its way.
Little Phoenix remained vigilant, testing his food with silver needles before meals—nothing. Sleeping with a dagger under his pillow at night—nothing either. On the seventh morning, someone pounded on the door. Little Phoenix opened his eyes and sat up, looking outside—a huge crowd of people was silhouetted against the window paper.
They've come.
His guess proved true, but Little Phoenix wasn't afraid at all. His life couldn't be said to be without interest, but it couldn't be said to have much meaning either. For the first fifteen years, he was blinded by the intoxicating glamour of the pleasure quarters. In his sixteenth year, he finally liked someone, but it was someone he shouldn't have liked.
He was a proud person, so even knowing today was his death day, he would die beautifully, composed and carefree. Little Phoenix got out of bed, dressed, and washed. He found a crimson feather robe from when he was fifteen, traveling north with others to play and construct a painted pleasure boat. Back then, he had only shown his face on the boat, standing in the gentle evening breeze on the river in flowing robes, illuminated by lanterns—a scene that amazed the eyes of thousands along the shore, making him famous throughout the land from that day on. He closed the window, put away the poetry collection he had written while studying literature—which Xingyi had read—locked it in a cabinet, burned the bandages Xingyi had personally wrapped around his foot injury, and completely erased all traces of having loved someone.
It was true that he had fallen in love with someone, but he would always be himself—forthright and decisive, almost to the point of being somewhat callous.
Little Phoenix slowly exhaled, calmly walked over, and opened the door.
Seeing him in full ceremonial dress, everyone was stunned for a moment. Until a matron broke through from behind, rushing over like a whirlwind with something in her hands. "Oh, I've been wanting to tell you! But the betrothal inquiry, the gifts, the grand ceremony—all these procedures took so much time, and then dealing with your parents was another ordeal—they demanded a full hundred thousand gold in betrothal money! Today everything's finally ready, and the Prince said to bring you back for a look."
Little Phoenix had just instinctively stepped back from the matron's abrupt entrance, his mind completely blank. Only after he lowered his eyes and saw clearly what the matron was holding in her hands did he gradually come to his senses.
Before his eyes was a deep, joyful crimson color, embroidered with intricate phoenixes and coiling dragons in gold and peacock thread. Even Little Phoenix had never seen such finely crafted garments. He would only learn later that these clothes had been made with the Emperor's permission, with forty-four embroidery workshops in the capital working around the clock. Seven days' deadline—the moment it was completed, someone took possession to verify it, then it was rushed to Jiangnan by express horse to be delivered into Little Phoenix's hands.
He stood there dumbly. "What is this for—"
The matron gave him a light knock on the head. "What are you standing there dazed for? Hurry up and try it on."
Someone beside them laughed. "Must be mad with joy, eh? Little Feng Huang, the Prince has taken a liking to you and plans to carry you home in an eight-bearer palanquin, marrying you with the rites of a princess consort! The wedding garments have arrived—hurry and try them on."
—--
Little Phoenix squatted dejectedly by the table, curled up in a round ball.
Yesterday's scene seemed to replay itself. Xingyi had temporarily closed the Star Disc and sat alone at his desk drawing weapon blueprints, not saying a word.
Incense smoke curled through the room, and time seemed to freeze.
After a moment, Xingyi put down his brush. After examining the blueprint once over, only then did he remember that today this little fat bird hadn't yet begun his wonderful performance—who knew what excuse he would come up with this time.
He glanced sideways at Little Phoenix, then turned back to continue organizing his divine weapons catalog unhurriedly, saying leisurely, "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
Little Phoenix buried his head even lower. "No."
Xingyi said with interest, "No?"
Little Phoenix stared at him with his beady little eyes, then dejectedly lowered his head again, saying slowly in a baby voice, "You caught me, I have nothing to defend myself with. But you have to believe me, I didn't mean to trick you."
...That sounded somewhat familiar.
Xingyi remained expressionless, only reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Little Phoenix engaged in deep self-reflection. "When I was wandering the mortal world before, I heard a saying—'Since ancient times, schemes win hearts.' I wanted to scheme against you, so that's what I did. But now it seems those words don't count for much—you caught me, and you're still angry with me."
Xingyi said, "Scheme?"
Little Phoenix stretched out his small wing to gesture, earnestly explaining, "That is, legendary experiences and lessons from predecessors."
"Oh." Xingyi sipped his tea, then asked again, "So what did you want to accomplish by scheming against me?"
Little Phoenix answered very quickly this time. "I was afraid you wouldn't want me, that you'd abandon me. Look how small I am—I can't transform, I have white feathers, wherever I go I get bullied. Only you don't disdain me. I was afraid that one day you'd get tired of me and drive me away."
Xingyi leisurely pointed out, "Bullied? I seem to recall that golden-winged bird was dealt with quite miserably by you."
Little Phoenix froze.
Then he suddenly toppled backward onto the table, stretched out his small wing to wipe his eyes, and began to fake cry pitifully. "I was just afraid, afraid you wouldn't like me... You didn't want me at first either, wanted to drive me away... You just think I'm fat, wuwuwu..."
Xingyi watched him for a while, then reached out a finger to poke Little Phoenix's wing.
Little Phoenix resolutely twisted to the side, refusing to look at him, continuing to fake cry, pretending to wipe tears with his little wing.
Wherever Xingyi's finger poked, Little Phoenix rolled in the opposite direction. After rolling several circles, he didn't notice he was nearly at the edge of the table and could only—plop—fall off.
Landing steadily in Xingyi's palm.
Xingyi looked down at him. "Phoenixes don't shed tears easily, and when they do cry, the tears immediately turn into blood-red crystal stones. If mortals consume them, they can live forever. Where did your phoenix tears go?"
Little Phoenix quickly turned in a circle and burrowed into Xingyi's slightly cupped palm, burying his little head inside and not moving. His tail feathers spread open, revealing his round bird bottom. Where a feather had been plucked yesterday, a new quill had already grown, covered by more fluffy, soft down.
Xingyi poked him.
Little Phoenix was poked forward but still kept his little head facing inward, pressed against Xingyi's palm.
He said in a muffled voice, "Give me some time to reflect on my mistakes facing the wall, okay? I'm punishing myself by reflecting facing the wall." The further he went, the quieter his voice became, sounding pitiful. "I'm very pitiful."
Xingyi's eyes held a hint of gentle amusement. "Who calls themselves pitiful? You little liar, tomorrow I'll send you to Ming Zun."
Little Phoenix didn't move. After a while, the little fat bird began speaking to him again in that muffled voice.
This time the content was long. "Alright, I'll confess everything. Actually, I came to find you to continue our past life's fate. In our previous life, you and I were husband and wife, so in this life I came looking for you. Although I look very suspicious, I truly like you. The Phoenix Clan doesn't easily like people, but if we do like someone and marry them, we'll follow them forever, until death do us part."
Xingyi said, "Little liar, you're talking nonsense again. Tonight I'll send you to Ming Zun."
Little Phoenix twisted in his palm, first chirping a few times to express dissatisfaction, then said, "Hmph, if you call me 'wife' I dare to answer. If I call you 'husband,' do you dare to answer?"
Xingyi: "..."
Little Phoenix continued, "Hmph, I sleep with you without wearing clothes—do you dare to sleep with me without wearing clothes?" He nimbly turned in a circle, showing off his smooth, round body like a little fluff ball, not without pride.
Indeed, he wasn't wearing clothes. A fluffy, round little fat bird—what need for garments?
Xingyi: "..."
Xingyi picked him up with both hands and placed him properly on his knee. Little Phoenix's wall-facing reflection wasn't finished yet, and being suddenly released, he was a bit dissatisfied. He was about to continue. "Hmph, I—"
He shut his mouth as soon as he spoke.
Xingyi's hands pinched and kneaded, as if Little Phoenix were some interesting soft clay, rolling him round and squeezing him flat, smoothing his fine, fluffy feathers forward then stroking them back, not missing a spot from top to bottom, left to right. Little Phoenix was kneaded into confusion, the whole bird becoming even fluffier. He couldn't escape, could only stare with his shiny little bean eyes, constantly kicking his little claws in protest.
Little Phoenix accused, "You're squeezing me!"
Xingyi said, "Mm."
Little Phoenix stretched out his small wing to wipe his eyes again. "You squeeze me and touch me and make me sleep with you without clothes—you have to take responsibility for me."
Xingyi applied slightly more pressure, ruffling Little Phoenix's down. His soft belly bounced with each finger press, smooth and round. Watching the earnestly accusing Little Phoenix, he couldn't help but be amused. "Mm."
Xingyi added, "Alright, I'll take responsibility for you. Only, you can't always remain in this bird form to be my Empress, can you? As fat as you are now, even if you took human form you probably wouldn't be beautiful. My Empress must be beautiful."
Little Phoenix stretched out his neck and quickly interviewed, "What other standards are there?"
Xingyi pondered for a moment, then dismissed him with a few words, "I'll tell you when I think of them."
He stroked Little Phoenix's head, considering the matter closed.
He hadn't truly been angry with this little troublemaker. Fuli Palace had been cold for over ten thousand years—this was the first time there was such a lively, mischievous little treasure. He liked it very much, and he knew that not half a word from this little troublemaker's mouth could be believed.
Probably couldn't be believed.
That evening, after settling Little Phoenix, he went alone to walk along the mountain path, where he encountered Qisha and Tanlang and their group, also out for a stroll.
Xingyi had never liked formalities; both sides simply exchanged brief greetings. Tanlang went off to build a snowman, but Qisha stopped to look at him.
Qisha had always been steady and thorough. Over these years in his star position, he was mainly responsible for providing Xingyi with all information from the Six Realms that might be related to the Star Disc. Xingyi originally had nothing particular, yet by strange coincidence he thought again of that little troublemaker's fabricated story to deceive him—or in the little troublemaker's own words, to "scheme" against him.
That white little phoenix said he had come to continue their past life's fate.
Xingyi was somewhat hesitant. He hadn't been to the mortal world for ten thousand years, and in the Northern Heaven he had also isolated himself from the other immortals, not concerning himself with outside matters. Such a clichéd, unoriginal story shouldn't have caught his attention.
He called out to Qisha, "Do you still remember when you said that day that you studied divination with the Lao Jun and predicted that a little bird would come find me?"
Qisha said, "I remember, Emperor. Last time you brought it to court."
Xingyi said, "Go investigate it for me. If there's anything, let me know."
Qisha bowed. "Yes, Emperor."
