The sect outing ended with Chu Mingwei selecting a gentle celestial crane as a mount for Xiao Lingyu at the Spirit Beast Garden. Originally, Xiao Lingyu had been drawn to a Zi Ji Eagle in the garden, but Chu Mingwei rejected the choice as too dangerous and firmly chose the mild-mannered crane instead.
Xiao Lingyu stared at the elegant, docile crane with a mix of resignation and exasperation. In his previous life, Wu Yunzi had chosen a celestial crane for him for the same reason—too dangerous. In both lives, he had been treated like a child, and now, with an adult’s consciousness inhabiting his six-year-old body, he could only console himself: fate works in mysterious ways, so endure it.
Chu Mingwei had noticed the longing in Xiao Lingyu’s eyes for the Zi Ji Eagle. Though he was somewhat swayed by the rare instance of his junior making a request that was refused, seeing the eagle’s wingspan of four meters compared to the small frame of his junior, Chu Mingwei hardened his resolve, ignoring Xiao Lingyu’s yearning gaze.
That night, Xiao Lingyu stared at a wooden box containing a tiny, newly hatched Zi Ji Eagle chirping for food. The look on his face was complicated—he had never expected Chu Mingwei to request a hatchling from the Spirit Beast Garden’s keepers and present it to him. At that moment, Xiao Lingyu nearly broke his carefully maintained facade of obedient composure. If he hadn’t quickly lowered his head, Chu Mingwei would have surely noticed the flicker of his emotions.
This feeling of being cared for was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Although Chu Mingwei’s attention was simply that of a senior in the sect looking out for his junior, the warmth lingered nonetheless.
Holding the tiny bird in his hands, Xiao Lingyu’s mind intertwined memories from his previous life. He couldn’t help but wonder: if the senior brother had not died, would the outcome have been different? Even with a second chance at life, the scars from past injuries and the pain he had endured left deep impressions, memories that could not simply be erased.
Chu Mingwei’s smiling face surfaced in his thoughts once again. Xiao Lingyu gently cradled the chirping hatchling, meeting its tiny black eyes with a faint smile. If he could rewrite fate, then he could certainly change what came next.
Carefully placing the hatchling back in its box, Xiao Lingyu took a piece of pastry from the table, breaking it into small crumbs to feed the little bird. Though this was his first experience handling a Zi Ji Eagle hatchling in either life, he found himself unsure what to feed it so it could grow into the four-meter wingspan creature. The hatchling cautiously pecked at the crumbs in his palm, and Xiao Lingyu couldn’t help but twitch the corners of his mouth.
“Such a little rascal,” he thought. “So gentle with a featherless chick, yet so rough with the little pig…” He glanced over at the little white pig that had been quietly in the corner since they returned. The pig spun, rolled, and flipped belly-up, twisting and wriggling as if showing off.
Xiao Lingyu couldn’t help but twitch his mouth further. He summoned the little pig into his arms and fed it a piece of pastry as well.
“Hmph, I’m not eating leftovers from the featherless chick!” The little white pig twisted its head dramatically, its expression almost humanlike. Xiao Lingyu’s lips twitched in disbelief—how could the legendary, ancient spiritual pig described in lore be reduced to this silly creature before him?
The pig eyed the pastry warily, struggling internally. Xiao Lingyu observed the hesitant glance and involuntarily relaxed his expression. The pig wasn’t so foolish after all—cute and endearing when it wanted to be—and perhaps it would make a fine pet.
With both the Zi Ji Eagle hatchling and the little white pig settled, Xiao Lingyu turned inward, replaying memories from his past life in search of clues. During the outing, he had subtly asked Chu Mingwei about his plans. Chu Mingwei indicated no intention of venturing out, which suggested that his previous life’s journey had been a sudden, personal decision.
Using the timeline from his previous life, Chu Mingwei had just ascended to the Dan realm, his cultivation still unstable. The most pressing need was to stabilize his realm using the sect’s abundant spiritual energy. If it weren’t for the misfortune tied to Elder Wu, Chu Mingwei wouldn’t have gone out at all. So what prompted this sudden departure? Xiao Lingyu considered Chu Mingwei’s personality and position—it wasn’t revenge or personal vendetta; perhaps it was some enticement, something compelling him to leave despite the risks.
Xiao Lingyu ran through scenarios in his mind, attempting to discern why Chu Mingwei had to leave. The mischievous Old Ghost suddenly popped up, suggesting, “You don’t need to overthink this. There’s a simple way to prevent him from going out.”
“What?”
The Old Ghost snorted. “You’ll be spending all your days together anyway. He has no suspicion of you, so a little trick won’t be noticed. It won’t kill him, just delay him for a short while—and you’d be saving his life.”
Xiao Lingyu didn’t respond. He had considered the same tactic before, willing to strike to change everything in his past life. With Chu Mingwei having gifted him the little Zi Ji Eagle tonight, however, Xiao Lingyu suddenly found himself unable to go through with it.
His hesitation puzzled the Old Ghost. “Hey, Xiao Lingyu, what are you thinking? Isn’t that the most straightforward solution?”
Shaking his head, Xiao Lingyu dismissed the sudden weakness in his heart and began calculating how to strike Chu Mingwei subtly without raising suspicion. With his current cultivation, such a precise, undetectable action was not easy.
Simulating the ambush in his mind, Xiao Lingyu finally fell asleep in the middle of the night, his dreams filled with attempts to strike Chu Mingwei.
The next morning, Chu Mingwei arrived early at Yilan Peak, amused to see Xiao Lingyu rolled up in a blanket, his small face puffed as if bearing some great grievance. Seeing the round little face, Chu Mingwei couldn’t resist reaching out and pinching it. The texture—soft and plump—was indescribably pleasant, and seeing Xiao Lingyu squirm and frown under his playful grasp made him laugh uncontrollably.
The Old Ghost, who had noticed Chu Mingwei entering earlier, hadn’t awakened Xiao Lingyu, instead reveling in the sight of the child unconsciously clutching the blanket, drooling slightly. If only he had a magical tool to record it all for teasing later.
Half-awake, Xiao Lingyu didn’t realize Chu Mingwei’s mischievous hands or the Old Ghost’s cruel amusement. Suddenly finding himself in a warm embrace, he slowly opened his eyes, meeting Chu Mingwei’s smiling gaze.
Realizing where he was, Xiao Lingyu stiffened instinctively, his face turning crimson.
“Old Ghost, you didn’t wake me again?” he accused indignantly.
“What’s the matter?” The Old Ghost raised his voice. “When did Chu Mingwei come in?”
“You didn’t notice? Were you asleep again?”
“Of course, even ghosts need sleep,” the Old Ghost quipped. Xiao Lingyu noticed a subtle change in tone and frowned.
Pulling himself together, Xiao Lingyu repeated to himself in his mind: I’m only six years old, I’m only six years old. Chu Mingwei found his shy, flushed expression endlessly amusing.
As yesterday, Xiao Lingyu stood on the bed while Chu Mingwei gently dressed him and served breakfast. The Old Ghost, completely unable to contain himself, laughed lewdly the entire time. Xiao Lingyu pouted—any semblance of the Old Ghost’s senior image had been utterly ruined.