Quid Pro Quo
Saintess Changying~
It’s true, when one loses a sense, the remaining become stronger. That is the case for this man.
He can’t speak or move, but his hearing is exceptional. He is also remarkably intuitive. He realized strangers were coming this way from the subtle vibrations from their horses and noises coming from their unusual sounding cargo still some distance away. He sensed they were dangerous. He grew anxious. He was worried about me and the others, but he found immense amusement in me magically sending them to a haunted forest far away.
This human knows I’m an immortal goddess. He realizes I have magical powers he can’t fathom. He is aware that I can perform miracles, yet he, unlike what I believe other mortals in his place, would do. He has not begged me to extend his life even though he has begun to have violent seizures. His fragile life is slipping away like the sands of time, but he’s not imploring me to heal him completely or to revert him to his previous state before the accident.
He has only asked one thing of me: to write letters and deliver them to Qing Yuan discreetly for safekeeping.
I’ve never been physically affectionate as Changchang. She, the channeler, gathers life force from others and needs to feel their touch like a fish needs water. Therefore, she hangs on people like a sloth spirit. Even at our age, she suckles on our mother’s breasts like a needy cub because she needs their mother and daughter closeness still. I’m the opposite. I dislike hugs and avoid bodily contact without reason. But for this human, I don’t hesitate when I place my hand under his.
The rough and weathered skin of his palm feels dry and textured against mine. Our hands are joined, the brush held firmly between our fingers. I can feel the stiffness of his fingers as they interlace with mine, forming a connection. As the magic of my dragon spell courses through him and me, it guides our hand, allowing his thoughts to flow into written words effortlessly onto the paper in a penmanship I don’t recognize because it’s his.
The sound of the brush gently scratching against the surface fills the air. The scent of ink masks the stink of him or I’ve become immune to it. It no longer bothers me to be this close to him. With focused intent, he composes not just two brief documents, but also a briefer letter to his older brother.
The message is terse yet meaningful. It helps to create a picture of their bond carrying his sentiments across the distance. He addresses to his sibling.
“My beloved twin brother, dege Jingyuan. I’m sorry to leave you behind alone.”
How surprising. He is a twin like me.
To his wife, he writes something, something unexpected. It’s enough to make me pause. It’s concerning that I consider telling him of his wife’s pregnancy, but in the end, I don’t mention it. Yet I have to ask. “Is this really what you want? Do you understand the implication and what this will make her think?”
“I do.” He replies to me through telepathy and explains his reason.
“While the pain of lost love can drain your life force, anger can give you a reason to fight back. Resentment is powerful enough to keep one wanting to live, even if it’s out of nothing but pure spite.”
“I am aware of what she is planning to do, but I want my wife to keep living until her hair is the color of the snow on top Kunlun Mountain. I want her last breath to be taken surrounded by her children who love her and she can join me then.”
He has shown no fear. He isn’t scared of my eyes. I remove my hat. I sit close so we’re eye to eye and I offer him a way out. “Mortal, I can save you. I can help you live long with your wife until both your hair are like snow and your wrinkled faces resemble weathered maps.” I offer him an opportunity, an unethical and devious deal. “You have a twin. The moment you die, I can switch your spirits. He will die in your place.”
He replies morosely;
“I feel sorry for you, Saintess. If you had a twin, you would understand what you suggest is worse than death.”
Then he struggles to breathe. His seizing body trembles frantically. His lips stretch back, teeth chattering in his tense jaw as the last of his oxygen fights to reach his brain.
He is dying before my eyes. “A-li! Qing Yuan!” I shout in a panic. “Hurry! Hurry!! Jinghua is dying!!” I scream to the mortals by name.
From across the field, A-li and Qing Yuan come racing and flying into the cottage stairs, their footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet surroundings. Both are gasping for breath, their chests heaving with exertion. Tears stream down their faces, leaving glistening trails on their flushed cheeks.
A-li approaches Jinghua. Her trembling hands reach out, cupping his face, and she gasps as she feels the last fragments of warmth of his skin she will never feel again against her fingertips. She gazes into his rapidly blinking eyes, their fast movement accompanied by the soft sound of his shallow breaths.
In a hushed voice filled with love, A-li speaks to him, her words barely audible over the crying in the cottage. “Jinghua, you are the bravest and strongest man I’ve known,” she whispers. “I know you tried to hang on for me. You have suffered enough. Release yourself from this terrible pain. Go now.”
His final breath escapes, and his life flickers out like a snuffed candle. Her body sinks, crumpling on top of Jinghua’s chest. Beside the bed, Qing Yuan collapses as well, his grief manifesting in loud, boisterous sobs that reverberate through the room like thunder.
The airs outside has a heavy, oppressive, as if they too are grieving this human’s parting. With bowed heads, the guards beneath the stairs showed their respect to Jinghua by kowtowing, while Xinlan cries hysterically. Her entire body heaving as she stands beside me blubbering, but I can’t fault her for a single tear rolls down my cheek, despite my efforts to stop it.
I guess I’m not as heartless as I think I am. I’m not as immune to loss as I believed. The finality of death for humans after a fleeting existence is bitter, and it’s this mindset that prompts me to do the most questionable act I’ve ever done.
“Saintess? Where did Jinghua’s soul go? I didn’t see it leave his body, and it’s not lingering here as some do?” Xinlan asks, then she gasps, “Saintess, you’re bleeding!”
The karmic backbite makes my eyes, nose and ears bleed. If she had enough cultivation, she would have noticed the moment his spirit left his mortal shell. She would have caught me securing it and holding it back from moving into the afterlife.
Jinghua’s spirit is currently inside the soul gathering lamp I stole from Nine Heavens. When I took the lamp from Heavenly Lord’s study, I didn’t have a specific need for it, but looking back, maybe I planned this all along. However, even with the sacred lamp, returning a spirit back into a body isn’t as simple as one might think.
Jinghua’s mortal body can’t and won’t accept his spirit after surrendering his soul. As in life, with death, everything is timing. I could find another body to receive his soul, but then that means I would have to eliminate, kill the original spirit and even this isn’t foolproof. A millisecond too late or too soon could mean condemning Jinghua’s soul to eternal hell instead of being brought back to life.
I need an unused form shaped like a human man. It doesn’t need to last forever; in fact, it should be temporary and limited. This form will serve as a vessel for Jinghua’s soul, who is not meant to live indefinitely. It is crucial that this host has a clean slate, devoid of any previous memories, to avoid any potential conflicts with Jinghua’s current experiences and consciousness.
In order to transfer Jinghua’s soul and revive him, I need a doll-like figure that can act as a channel. Fortunately, I know of an individual skilled in crafting magical dolls.
Qingqui~
From the back, the lines of her body are delicate and feminine, dressed in a goddess gown, sitting next to one of Qingqui’s lotus ponds. She could be mistaken for an earth fairy, but she’s not. Under her white veiled hat, she is turning into a toad because her frog eyes. That’s how Qingqui magic works. It takes the best element of that being, and the immortal essence is formed, influenced by that goodness. I guess the only redeeming factor of this woman were the frog eyes my brother A-li gave her.
Poor frog.
I don’t call her by name when I call out. “You there, woman. I need you to make a Sujin Clan doll.”
With a sluggish speed, she perches up on her back, legs folded behind her like a frog, and croaks at me. Her head moves lazily up and down, taking me in from my head to my feet. Her dress drags behind her when she hops closer. She rapidly lifts her veil and smiles broadly as she sees someone other than me. She thinks I’m the other one who dresses in all black. Someone who resembles me or I resemble him.
Because she’s turning into a frogfish, she croaks excitedly. “Ye Hua.” She Ribbits, twice, “you’re finally here,” Croak, “You’ve come to fetch me!”
“I’m not that man.” I hiss and she blinks. Her eyelids move heavy and slow. She croaks again and puts her hat back on. I appreciate this because her greenish face is enough to make me lose my lunch. “Well, princess. What kind of Sujin doll do you need?”
I reply, “A man.” She echoes me, “A man?” Then asks hoarsely,” What kind of man?”
“A young man. A mortal.” I respond.
Sujin laughs crazily, mocking me. “One can’t run from their blood. You two seem to have the same sexual kinks. You’re just like your father. Have you also started fornicating with a common human? Do you carry his lowly seed?” Her laughter abruptly stops. She’s insane, but still mindful enough to grasp she can gain something.
She is keenly aware she can benefit from fulfilling my favor.
She addresses me offensively, mis-using all my titles for her amusement. She mocks, “Sujun can make a man doll for Imperial Princess Changying. How could I refuse, the second daughter of Ye Hua and Gugu, who was raised and loved deeply, perhaps too deeply by her uncle, High God Mo Yuan, if the spicy rumors are true? This Princess has so many titles and power, but what will you grant Sujin? We are nothing to each other now, but that will change if I do you this favor.” She snickers, thinking she is clever.
She’s beyond foul. Her mind works in disgusting ways. I want to tell her I’ll let her breathe another day. I’m tempted to rip her frog eyes out her head, but she is the only immortal in existence that can make a Sujin doll.
Quid pro quo.
Nothing in life is free — everything has a price — and she has a valid point as of now. She and I are free of any debts to each other. I would like to keep it this way.
“I’ll give you eyes of a mantis shrimp. Their vision is surprisingly good.” She rejects my offer with no consideration. “Croak. The life of a stinking shrimp isn’t much better than a frog.. Sujin is sick of being in the water. Perhaps princess could turn Sujin into a peacock?”
“You think yourself worthy of being a peacock?” I scoff at her. I lean down. She shivers as I peer intently on her face. “I’ll get you the eyes of a raven, and I’ll make a remedy that will stop your current transformation into a frog. You won’t crave flies and bugs anymore.”
“Sujin does hate the taste of flies and bugs. I will take all you are offering and I want my old tongue back.” She says as her long green tongue whips out of her enormous mouth and catches an insect flying by. She moans pleased but then scolds herself in a shrill tone filled with madness, “That’s enough. Stop eating flies, Sujin.” She slowly chews her meal and agrees to make me a doll.
I watch her for a full day whittling away at one of uncle Migu’s branches he lost during his lightning trial when he became a high immortal a few decades ago. While forced to listen to her rambling about the past, of which holds no interest to me.
Sujin croaks and asks, “When is the princess’s birthday? It’s possible you and I share the same birthday?”
“One year on Sujin’s birthday, Gugu stole the gift my Ye Hua should have given to me, but he gave it to that old slut..I mean precious Gugu. They forced me to watch your conception, possibly. She brings out the worst in my Ye Hua, but she has that effect on men. Thank goodness, Ye Hua wasn’t a triplet or an octuplet, but then she would happily take them ALL AT ONCE.. That whore…I mean dear high goddess Gugu. No offense meant, of course.” She hates my mother and has no qualms about expressing herself, but I don’t care. The only one on my mind is Jinghua.
“No offense taken. I don’t care about you, your birthdays, Heavenly Lord, and what he did to mother. You shut up and focus on the Sujin doll.” I snap at her, growing impatient, knowing a year has passed in the mortal world while this foul creature dilly dallies around. She finally finishes and presents the doll for my approval, which she doesn’t earn.
The Sujin doll is a perfect replica of Heavenly Lord.
Sujin lost her normal sight tens of thousands of years ago. After eating the eyes she was borrowing, my mother’s immortal eyes. Sujin used to have fish eyes, but now she has a pair from a bullfrog. Before being brought to Qingqui by Royal Grandmother, she lived as a swamp witch. Royal Grandmother heard about my brother A-li’s unethical ‘activities’ with the previous consort of Heavenly Lord and decided to bring Sujin here to live out her frog life.
Sujin’s obsession with Heavenly Lord makes me sick. After all these years, the only face she remembers is his. I can’t stand it anymore and kick the doll that looks just like the object of her delusional infatuation. His model doesn’t deserve to hold Jinghua’s soul, and now I’ve lost a day and a half, which is a year and a half in the mortal world.
“Make another.” I order her. She angrily croaks at me, frustrated, and complains bitterly, “Why should I?! You may look like Ye Hua, but you possess her hateful soul. There’s nothing wrong with this doll. It is perfect.” She hugs the doll affectionately, cooing to it under her breath, then mumbles to me sounding a bit embarrassed, “I’ve never been with a man and I don’t know any other but Ye Hua or.. Sujin doesn’t remember anyone else than my Ye Hua.”
I grab a random branch and start sketching a picture of Jinghua in the grass. It’s unexpected to see how well I’ve captured his appearance, considering I’ve never considered myself an artist. Although I never saw him before the fire, I can picture him looking like this. The scars I’ve added on his body and face give him an imperfect touch. For those who love him, he will be a comforting sight, even though his return will take longer than I foresaw. Because Sujin took longer to create his doll, more time has passed.
During this period, three years will have elapsed in the mortal world.
The Eastern Palace~
I didn’t have strong emotional attachments to Ye Hua, but my connection with Jinghua was different. This loss hits differently. The news of his demise affects me like a ton of bricks. My throat tightens, and a heavy, cumbersome weight settles in my chest. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision. Although he became a love rival for A-li, he was more than that to me. I wanted to win her, but not like this.
He was my brother, my twin, my other half. The pain is too overwhelming for me to find my voice. I simply can’t believe that Jinghua is gone.
A-li returns, but without Jinghua’s body. She and Qing Yuan have laid him to rest in a marked grave amidst a field of wild daisies. A-li is a changed person. She appears worn out, as if life has drained her. The girl who left months ago, with her once jet-black locks, now has returned with a head of pure white hair.
Unlike me, she is dry-eyed and doesn’t shed any tears. She has had more time to process our loss.
“A-li,” I utter in a barely audible whisper, my emotions still overpowering me. I extend the letters that Jinghua left for her, but she stares at them blankly. She doesn’t reach out to take them until I mention they are from Jinghua.
Then she snatches them from my hand. As she opens them, her gaze becomes intense, scanning the pages of Jinghua’s last will and testament. The first letter doesn’t surprise her. It’s a divorce memorandum from Jinghua to Lady Min, leaving all his assets to his second wife. However, the second letter, renouncing his brief marriage to A-li, leaves her bewildered.
She stammers in disbelief, refusing to accept that it was written by Jinghua. I show her a petition that Jinghua had submitted before he left for Qingshui City. The handwriting is unmistakably his, leaving A-li trembling as she holds the two documents side by side. Her eyes dart anxiously between them, searching for any inconsistency, but there are none. It’s his writing, and it’s undeniable.
“You said he couldn’t speak or move after the fire,” I ask, then try to offer some explanation. “A-li, I know it’s hard to accept, but men do change their minds. Maybe Jinghua regretted his impulsive decisions. I don’t know.” Frustrated and overwhelmed, I raise my hands in exasperation. “I wish I was, but I wasn’t there.”
A-li’s grief turns into a piercing scream. She wails, her cries echoing into the palace, her screams are directed at the ghost of Jinghua. “Jinghua! Jinghua!! How could you do this to me?!” Her body crumples, folding in half as she weeps hysterically. Suddenly, she jolts upright, her furious gaze fixed on the heavens, filled with scorn, overflowing with hatred. She curses the one she had loved most until a moment ago, “I gave you all of me and this is how you leave me?! You are a fool!! You have turned our unborn child into a bastard!”