Chapter 5: Deviation in the Plot
After feeding the animals that had come to beg for Spirit Grain, Yun Wuxiang took an empty bowl and walked toward a specific room.
Song Yilou saw this and followed him.
Upon entering the room, the first thing he saw was a large cauldron. Yun Wuxiang grabbed two handfuls of Spirit Rice, scattered them into the pot, ladled in two scoops of water from a clay crock, formed a hand seal, and whispered, “Ignite.”
A roaring fire sprang up from nothing inside the wood-less stove. Before long, thick white steam rose from the pot.
Song Yilou leaned in, glanced at the boiling rice porridge, then looked at the calm and composed Yun Wuxiang. He asked doubtfully, “Guanzhu, the water seems about to boil dry.”
Yun Wuxiang glanced at him, raised his hand to form a seal, and the fire in the stove vanished instantly. He then took a bowl from the cupboard, picked up the long ladle beside the pot, and began to serve the porridge.
Looking at that unhurried, self-possessed demeanor, no one would have guessed he had just spaced out.
Yun Wuxiang’s pot of porridge was eventually divided into two bowls. He handed one of them to Song Yilou.
Song Yilou looked at the rice soup in front of him, stunned for a moment. “For me?”
Yun Wuxiang nodded. “Mhm.”
“Many thanks, Guanzhu.” Song Yilou took the bowl of somewhat overly thick porridge. As he lifted it near his mouth, a faint smell of burning permeated the air.
Song Yilou stared at the porridge for a while; the scorched smell was becoming increasingly distinct.
Finally, he looked up and said to Yun Wuxiang, “Guanzhu, actually, I’m not very hungry yet.”
“Not hungry?” Yun Wuxiang looked at him in confusion. This person hadn’t eaten for at least a whole night and morning, yet he wasn’t hungry?
Song Yilou affirmed, “Right, I’m not hungry.”
Yun Wuxiang reached out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Song Yilou handed the porridge back. Immediately, Yun Wuxiang’s next action made his eyes go wide.
Yun Wuxiang took the porridge, brought it directly to his lips, raised his head, and swallowed it down in a few gulps.
When he was done, he placed the bowl on the cupboard and gently wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand.
Food cannot be wasted.
Then, he picked up the other bowl of porridge and walked out.
He left Song Yilou standing alone in the kitchen, his mind replaying the image of that slender neck, the bobbing Adam’s apple, and the fingers wiping those lips.
There wasn’t a single movement that carried a hint of ambiguity, and it was completely unrelated to seduction.
But… he drank the porridge that was originally meant for me.
Song Yilou stood dazed for a moment. Yun Wuxiang, carrying the other bowl of porridge, had already left the kitchen and was about to step out of the Daoist temple.
With no time to dwell on the bowl of porridge, Song Yilou quickly chased after him, tailing Yun Wuxiang until they stopped in front of a small earthen mound.
In front of the mound stood a wordless stone tablet; it was a grave.
Yun Wuxiang placed the porridge before the grave, conjured three incense sticks in his palm, lit them, and inserted them into the earth before the tomb.
Seeing the destination of the second bowl of porridge, Song Yilou raised an eyebrow slightly.
Dining with the dead—he really has no taboos regarding ghosts and gods.
Yun Wuxiang poured a cup of wine before the tombstone.
System 3339 suddenly spoke up: [Host, I have some not-so-good news.]
[How not good?]
As a veteran System, 3339 had a particular trait: usually, it was the Host’s hype-man, lively and chatty. But when it came to work, it became very serious, without a single wasted word.
Hearing the tone of the System’s voice, Yun Wuxiang knew the matter was related to the mission.
[The plot has deviated. The Protagonist Gong, who should have met the Protagonist Shou over half a month ago, still hasn’t seen him.]
[It is already almost April. The results of the Palace Examination were released in early March. The Protagonist Shou, Shen Lanqing, should have been the Tanhua* of this year’s exam. He was supposed to meet the Protagonist Gong, Duan Wenyin, while parading the streets on horseback.]
(Note: Tanhua is the title for the candidate who ranks third in the imperial civil service examination.)
[But now, the time for the street parade has long passed, yet the plotline hasn’t met the activation conditions. In other words, the two protagonists still haven’t met. This isn’t right.]
3339 had flipped through the mission progress chart for a long time, cross-referencing the time more than a dozen times, confirming it hadn’t seen it wrong. The mission progress bar was an empty slot that hadn’t been activated.
[Since this concerns the plot mission, I must wake up the World Consciousness as soon as possible to ask about the situation. Although the probability of waking it is low, I cannot turn a blind eye to this.]
Yun Wuxiang gazed at the rising smoke of the incense, the white mist blurring his expression.
[I understand.]
Then, Yun Wuxiang asked: [Sanjiu, what happens if the plot deviation is significant?]
[It will lead to mission failure. After the plotline is successfully completed, the World Consciousness gains a specific amount of energy to feed back into the world. As assistants, we receive a portion of that energy as payment.]
[If the plot goes off the rails and collapses, the mission fails. The World Consciousness gains nothing and won’t distribute energy to us. Without energy, I cannot open the time-space tunnel to send you, Host, back to the modern era.]
The fingers hidden under Yun Wuxiang’s sleeves twitched slightly. [If the mission fails, I can’t go back, is that it?]
[Yes.]
3339 comforted him: [Host, don’t worry. The plot itself has a certain self-repairing ability. A small deviation won’t cause too much impact. Besides, if the plot had deviated severely, the World Consciousness would have woken up long ago. The fact that it hasn’t woken up proves the deviation isn’t critical.]
Only 3339 knew that there was a certain amount of bluffing in those words.
Bugs could be big or small, but without knowing exactly what happened, anything was possible.
Sometimes, a trivial, insignificant deviation could cause the entire subsequent plot to collapse.
3339 prayed devoutly, hoping it and its Host wouldn’t be that unlucky.
Yun Wuxiang swept away the dust and fallen leaves from the tombstone. After cleaning it meticulously, he returned to the Daoist temple.
The beautiful large bird stood under the magnolia tree. Seeing Yun Wuxiang, it let out a cry, like a family member greeting someone returning home.
Yun Wuxiang walked to the bird’s side, reached out to brush away the magnolia petals that had fallen on its back, and said, “Dange, take those people home. Remember to bring the wooden tablet back; we’ll use it again next time.”
Dange let out a series of calls. Yun Wuxiang had a contract with it and could understand its language. “The two groups fought and broke the wooden tablet?”
Yun Wuxiang chuckled softly, speaking with indifference, “If it’s broken, it’s broken. We’ll just make another one.”
Several days later.
Capital City, Shen Manor.
Two figures knocked on the vermilion gates.
Before long, the gate opened a crack. A servant poked his head out, sweeping his gaze over the two people outside. One had dark skin, a simple and honest smile, and a tall, burly physique. The other had a cold gaze and a terrifying aura—clearly not a simple character.
The servant narrowed the gap in the door, revealing only one eye, and asked warily, “Do you two have business here?”
Yu Laosan said, “I am here to deliver a letter for the White Crane Immortal.”
Hearing the words “White Crane Immortal,” the servant’s expression straightened. He opened the gap a bit wider and asked, “Do you have proof?”
Yu Laosan nodded. “Yes, yes, it’s in the carriage. I’ll invite him out right now.” Saying this, he turned toward the carriage behind him.
He lifted the curtain, and a crane’s head poked out from the carriage, letting out a cry at the servant.
The servant immediately undid the chain behind the gate, opening it wide, and spoke enthusiastically to the two men, “Many thanks to you two for coming all this way. Please come in, please come in.”
Then he shouted toward the inside, “Someone come quickly! Master Dange has arrived! Quickly, invite the Master in!”
Yu Laosan was startled by the sudden change in attitude. Moments later, a group of servants ran out in a flurry.
“Master Dange is here!”
“Where is the Master?”
When the crowd arrived and saw the crane looking around from inside the carriage, they immediately surrounded it with fiery enthusiasm.
“So it is Eleventh Master returning! Come, come, quick, go inside!”
Surrounded by the servants, Yu Laosan and Liu Huansi entered the Shen Manor and were invited to sit in the main hall as honored guests.
Yu Laosan sat in the guest seat, looking at the crane standing in the seat of honor, and muttered, “Eleventh Master? Are the Shen family members all transformed cranes?”
Liu Huansi let out a sneer. He didn’t say a word, yet the silence was full of mockery.
Yu Laosan glared at him angrily, clenching his fist but daring not to swing it, because he couldn’t beat him.
Maids served fruits and pastries, placing them on the table before the two. “Honored guests, please enjoy.”
How could Yu Laosan, a fisherman, have ever experienced such treatment? He said awkwardly, “Thank you, ha.”
The maids smiled, put down the food, and left.
Suddenly, Liu Huansi looked toward the door. Yu Laosan curiously followed his gaze but saw nothing.
Soon, the sound of hurried footsteps approached. A figure ran in, rushing straight for the seat of honor: “Eleventh Uncle!”
The crane cried out and was enveloped in a bear hug by the newcomer.
“Eleventh Uncle, long time no see! I missed you all so much. Has Shifu woken up?”
Yu Laosan saw the newcomer’s appearance clearly now, and his eyes filled with awe. This young man was simply too good-looking.
The young man noticed there were others present. He let go of the crane, stood up straight, lightly dusted his sleeves, and cupped his hands in greeting. In that single motion, the youthful impetuousness he had shown rushing into the room vanished, replaced by dignified propriety and generous poise.
“I am Shen Lanqing. Many thanks to you two for escorting my Eleventh Uncle home.”
Yu Laosan scratched his head and laughed. “It was only right. The White Crane Immortal saved my life; delivering a letter is the least I could do.”
Shen Lanqing smiled faintly, polite and courteous. “Those are two different matters. Shifu’s life-saving grace does not conflict with my gratitude toward you two. You have traveled far and are weary from the journey; I, Shen, naturally must play the host and wash away the dust of the road for you.”
Yu Laosan, in a daze, was led away to the guest rooms by a group of maids.
Before leaving, Liu Huansi glanced at Shen Lanqing and the crane, then followed the maids’ guidance to leave.
After sending off Yu Laosan and his companion, Shen Lanqing turned to the crane. “Eleventh Uncle, where is Shifu’s letter?”
The crane lifted its leg, around which several paper talismans were wrapped.
Shen Lanqing removed them one by one. To others, the talismans were covered in unintelligible scribbles, but in his eyes, these ghostly drawings were interspersed with characters of clear meaning.
After browsing through them all, Shen Lanqing frowned. “Do not come to the island recently… carry Qingxin Pills* when going out… best not to go out if there is nothing to do?”
(Note: Qingxin Pills are ‘Heart-Clearing’ or ‘Calming’ pills in cultivation settings.)
Shen Lanqing looked at the crane, which was pecking at a grape. “Eleventh Uncle, did Shifu predict something and send you to warn me?”
The crane swallowed the grape, extended a wing, and patted Shen Lanqing’s head.
Shen Lanqing smiled. “True, I just need to listen to Shifu.”
“I wonder how Shifu is doing now. I haven’t seen him in over ten years. He finally came out of seclusion, yet I can’t go to the island to find him,” Shen Lanqing said gloomily.
At this moment, the atmosphere in the Qingdi Temple was exceptionally tense and heavy.
Yun Wuxiang and Song Yilou stood facing each other. Not far from them, on the ground, lay a wild pheasant that was dead and bleeding out.
This pheasant had been in Song Yilou’s hand just moments ago, only to be knocked flying by a suddenly appearing Yun Wuxiang, crashing onto the ground.
Song Yilou held a bloodstained dagger, looking at Yun Wuxiang’s somewhat unsightly expression. He gazed at him with an innocent look, pitifully playing the victim: “Guanzhu, I have drunk plain white porridge for three consecutive days. Can I not even eat a pheasant?”
Yun Wuxiang’s brows furrowed slightly, as if enduring something. “If you want to prepare meat, go outside the Daoist temple.” With that, he flicked his sleeve and walked away directly.
Song Yilou watched his retreating figure, then lowered his head to scan the chicken on the ground. “Dislikes meat? or dislikes killing and blood?”
The day he was dragged out of the sea, there was plenty of blood on his body, yet the Guanzhu hadn’t seemed uncomfortable then.
So, what is the reason?
Song Yilou bent down to pick up the pheasant with the broken neck and took it to the small stream outside the temple to gut it.
The dagger sliced open the pheasant’s abdomen; he pulled out the internal organs and tossed them aside casually.
The blade reflected Song Yilou’s dark, abyssal eyes.
Suddenly, Song Yilou laughed. The corners of his mouth turned up, smiling very sweetly, like honey brewed by a poisonous wasp.
The Guanzhu seems to have many secrets.
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