Wanlan Mountain lies along the western border of the Qiong Kingdom, stretching for thousands of miles. Legend has it that the royal tombs of successive Qiong kings are hidden somewhere within the mountains, guarded by a general from the war ghost clan.
As Yuan Zhong rode the Jile Bird, he began to fidget, sighing repeatedly, clearly reminded of some unpleasant memory.
Tan Yin noticed and asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”
Yuan Zhong hung his head in despair. “...I’m remembering a girl who broke my heart.”
That fierce war ghost woman, even more formidable than the general himself… Was her name Xin Mei? He would never forget her! She had slapped him so hard it almost knocked out two of his molars, and then she had the nerve to order him to drive her around in the air like a cheap coachman. He had been so traumatized that now, even seeing a pretty young mortal girl would make his legs tremble.
Tan Yin misunderstood and, worried she might hurt his feelings, cautiously asked, “Was she... your lover? Maybe you should go down and see her? If there’s been a misunderstanding, it’s better to clear things up…”
Yuan Zhong shook his head vigorously, like a rattle drum. Was she joking? Only the war ghost general could handle someone like Xin Mei. He’d rather spend his life with Tang Hua than endure a single day with Xin Mei.
“You’ve got the wrong idea,” he glared at Tan Yin. “The woman I like isn’t her.”
“Oh…” She didn’t know how to respond, so she just murmured, “Oh.”
“Idiot,” Yuan Zhong sighed. Every time he saw her clueless expression, he wanted to sigh again.
The sky was clear, without a cloud in sight, but after flying for a short while, thick clouds suddenly appeared, obstructing their view. Yuan Zhong whistled, and the Jile Bird gradually slowed its pace, hovering in midair.
“Below us is the royal tomb. This fog is a formation set by the war ghost general.” He tried pushing aside the thick mist, but more quickly rushed in, surrounding them. Tan Yin was barely ten feet away from him, yet he could no longer see her face.
Yuan Zhong’s eyes darted around for a moment, and then he turned back to her with a friendly smile. “Having trouble seeing the way? Come closer.”
“I’m fine, I can follow you,” she replied, completely missing the hint.
He persisted. “We’re only at the outer edge of the fog formation. As we go deeper, you won’t be able to see me at all.”
“No need to worry, just keep flying ahead. I can keep up,” she replied, still oblivious.
He frowned. “...Will you come over or not?”
“...Fine,” Tan Yin finally gave in, her tone resigned.
She steered her mechanical bird closer to him, gracefully stepping onto the back of his mount, as light as a feather. The soft downy feathers on the Jile Bird’s back were indeed much more comfortable than her mechanical bird.
“I can sense the Tongxin Mirror is in the royal tomb,” she said softly, with a hint of a smile in her voice.
“What’s that?” Yuan Zhong whistled again, and the Jile Bird flapped its wings, flying slowly through the thick fog.
“It’s something I made a long time ago. Only two people with a destined connection can see their reflection in it. Otherwise, the mirror stays blank.”
It was the first object she had made after becoming a deity, and she had used the celestial sand she’d taken from Tai He. She remembered when she finished it, she held it up, eager to find someone to test it with. But the divine realm was nothing like the bustling mortal world—it was vast and cold, and the gods and goddesses were always preoccupied with their duties, their temperaments peculiar. After wandering around for hours without finding anyone, she ended up staring at the mirror, wondering whether she should descend to the mortal world and have someone try it.
That was when Tai He suddenly appeared behind her, noticing the mirror in her hands with curiosity. “Oh? Did you make a copper mirror?”
She had been startled at first, but when she saw it was him, she immediately remembered how she had stolen the celestial sand. Guilty, she darted away like a thief, hiding behind a pillar to glare at him.
Tai He picked up the Tongxin Mirror she hadn’t managed to take with her and looked into it, chuckling. “Why doesn’t it show anything?”
She stammered from behind the pillar, “It… it only works for… people with a destined connection.”
Tai He raised his brows in surprise. “You made it? Sounds interesting.”
Tan Yin, seeing his gentle appearance and kind tone, figured he wasn’t too upset about her stealing the celestial sand. She cautiously stepped halfway out from behind the pillar and whispered, “I… I used the celestial sand from last time…”
Tai He smiled. “Was it enough? I have plenty more.”
Tan Yin was overjoyed. “Can I take more?!”
He nodded, still smiling, while brushing his hand over the rough, dull surface of the mirror. “What’s the name of this mirror?”
“Tongxin Mirror.”
“Good name,” Tai He praised, slowly approaching her with the mirror in hand.
Tan Yin stood there, head tilted back, staring at him as he walked over. He stood beside her and held up the mirror—its surface remained rough and dull, showing nothing at all.
“Huh, does this really work?” Tai He chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head.
Tan Yin hurried to explain, “It… it only works if there’s a destined connection between a man and a woman.”
“I see,” he said, handing her back the mirror with a slight smile. “How sad, it seems we aren’t destined.”
It had only been a joke, but she was too naive to realize that at the time. She had tried her hardest to explain, “It… it might not work for gods…”
Tai He looked momentarily taken aback, but then his smile softened.
“I know who you are,” he said. “You’re the new Wu Shuang goddess, the unparalleled craftsman.”
Tan Yin nodded. “Then… you are…?”
“I am Tai He, the god in charge of the stars and the Milky Way.”
As Tan Yin recalled these distant, yet amusing memories, the smile on her lips deepened.
Yuan Zhong, flying ahead, was silent for a while before suddenly turning the bird downward. “This Tongxin Mirror sounds interesting. Let’s go check it out.”
Tan Yin hurriedly grabbed his arm. “But… the mirror won’t show anyone…”
“We’re just taking a look.”
"But there are war ghosts below…"
"Don't worry, I'm here."
The Jile Bird flew like an arrow loosed from its string, cutting through the mist. In the blink of an eye, they could already see the flower-lined path leading to the royal tomb, with rows of red and white flowering trees along the sacred avenue. The war ghost general's fog array was no match for this divine bird. It descended gracefully, twirling as it landed on the sacred path, casting a proud glance at the stone statues of men and horses lining the way.
Yuan Zhong caught a wisp of wind and sniffed it carefully before smiling. "The war ghost isn’t here. Let’s go."
It was Tan Yin's first time at the royal tomb in Wanlan Mountain. She knew little about it, but the vibrant trees blooming with fragrant red and white flowers, the distant shadows of green mountains, and the overall beauty of the scenery were far from the dark and decayed atmosphere she had imagined. Only in the southeastern corner did a dense, ominous air rise toward the sky, likely where vengeful spirits and fierce ghosts were gathered.
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