Little Pink Starfish

Winter Thunder Rolls, Summer Snow Falls

In the end, Xiao Wei was a reliable young man. Seeing Granny Wang staring down Gu Xinglang, he leaned in and whispered, “Prince Consort, Granny Wang is waiting for you to make the call.”

Gu Xinglang thought for a long moment, then raised his hand to pat Jiang Zhuojun’s shoulder. The two men, former opponents on the battlefield, felt a little awkward about it.

The ex-pirates were getting anxious—they wanted to shout at Gu Xinglang. Now wasn’t the time for a brotherly shoulder-pat with the general; they needed to know what to do next! But having just witnessed Granny Wang’s wrath, none of them dared speak up. They were afraid she’d turn that fury on them next.

Yu Xiaoxiao tugged Gu Xinglang’s sleeve. “Saving them or not is just one sentence—why overthink it?” she muttered impatiently.

Gu Xinglang withdrew his hand and said, “Lives are at stake. Let’s try Bodhi Temple once more.”

At those words, several of the women collapsed to the ground as if all strength had left them.

Jiang Zhuojun asked, “What about you all?”

Gu Xinglang’s handsome face remained cold. He rarely smiled at outsiders. “As long as we’re alive, we’ll find a way. Let’s focus on surviving this moment first.”

Granny Wang wasn’t pleased to hear Gu Xinglang was putting Yu Xiaoxiao in danger, but she still followed propriety. She stepped back in silence.

The redwood box had two doors—one on the top and one on the bottom. As he spoke, Gu Xinglang tore off the seal and opened the top door, revealing the statue to Jiang Zhuojun.

Phoenix or Vermilion Bird, it didn’t matter. The high-quality red jade glowed in the firelight, dazzling the eyes in an instant.

Jiang Zhuojun bit his lip, eyes conflicted. He could never repay this favor, but he also had no choice but to accept.

Gu Xinglang didn’t let him admire the Red Jade Vermilion Bird for long. He quickly shut the box and said, “The children’s condition can’t wait. Take this phoenix to Bodhi Temple again.”

Jiang Zhuojun nodded.

“Bring some wine,” Gu Xinglang said to Xiao Wei.

Xiao Wei ran to their resting area and came back with several bottles of strong liquor, handing them to Jiang Zhuojun and the four Jiang clansmen who would accompany him.

The old Daoist looked at Xiao Wei’s now-empty hands. “What about mine?”

“You don’t know where the wine’s kept?” Granny Wang looked at him sideways, naturally siding with Xiao Wei.

The old Daoist went off to find his own drink. He could glare at Xiao Wei, but not at Granny Wang.

Jiang Yueniang watched her brother with worry. His injuries weren’t minor, and traveling through the snow again could be too much. But seeing the looks on the other clansmen’s faces, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to rest. Saying that would only turn more people against them. Besides, the children didn’t have time to wait.

Yu Xiaoxiao watched Jiang Zhuojun take a few sips of liquor, pack up, and get ready to leave again. She asked, “You’re wounded. Are you sure your body can take this?”

His injuries were painful, but hearing her ask, Jiang Zhuojun froze for a second—then smiled and replied, “I’m fine. No need to worry, Princess.”

“Ah,” Yu Xiaoxiao said, “How could I not worry? You’re hurt.”

Jiang Zhuojun looked at Yu Xiaoxiao. Even with her mostly expressionless face, he could tell she was genuinely concerned. He was momentarily dazed. They were strangers, really—so why did Princess Linglong treat him so kindly?

Gu Xinglang silently pulled Yu Xiaoxiao behind him and said, “You should set out soon.”

Hearing Gu Xinglang’s voice snapped Jiang Zhuojun back to his senses. He lowered his head, unable to hide his embarrassment—he’d just stared at the princess far too long.

The ex-pirates all turned to look at their princess. Just how breathtaking was she to leave General Jiang so spellbound?

“Our princess actually is pretty good-looking,” the second-in-command murmured.

The chief sighed. “If only she weren’t so strong…”

The former pirates fell silent. Some people’s strength and presence could completely eclipse their looks. Their princess was one of those people.

Jiang Zhuojun, Tian Xingzi, and four others set off again into the snow, carrying the Red Jade Vermilion Bird back to Bodhi Temple.

Thinking about how Jiang Zhuojun had looked at Yu Xiaoxiao earlier, Tian Xingzi, walking beside him, asked quietly, “General Jiang, what’s your birth date and time?”

Jiang Zhuojun’s face was wrapped in a thick scarf, only his eyes exposed. Frost had already formed on his long lashes after just a short walk. He glanced at the Daoist and asked, “Why do you want my birth date and time?”

Of course Tian Xingzi wouldn’t admit it was out of sheer curiosity. He said, “To divine the outcome of our journey.”

“I don’t believe in that,” Jiang Zhuojun replied.

The old Daoist was annoyed. Was everyone who hung around that little monster going to stop believing in him? “You not believing is one thing,” he huffed, “But I want peace of mind.”

Jiang Zhuojun frowned. “Then why don’t you just calculate your own?”

The old Daoist replied seriously, “Those who peek into fate must not look into their own. Don’t you understand?”

Left with no choice, Jiang Zhuojun quietly recited his birth date and time.

The Daoist glanced at the struggling Jiang clansmen carrying the redwood box, then leaned closer to Jiang Zhuojun and whispered with a laugh, “Don’t worry. Even if they knew your birth info, they wouldn’t dare hurt you.”

“Oh?” Jiang Zhuojun said. “You sound so sure.”

Tian Xingzi said, “If the Jiang family wants to rise again, who else could they rely on besides you? Those snot-nosed kids?”

Jiang Zhuojun stared ahead at the swirling snow, silent.

The old Daoist began muttering and counting with his fingers as he walked—then suddenly tumbled headlong into the snow.

Jiang Zhuojun quickly bent down to help him. “Are you alright, Daoist?”

The old man gave him a look, then flung his hand away and climbed to his feet like a ghost. He trudged ahead without another word.

Their birth charts are unbelievably compatible, the old Daoist thought. A perfect match in every way. Mutual love. Harmonious marriage.

Thinking of Gu Xinglang, he furrowed his brow and calculated again. Could it be that all the divination skills from my sect are fake? Am I just a fraud? That’s impossible!

“Daoist?” Jiang Zhuojun caught up and pressed a hand to his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Thunder rumbled atop the mountain.

Winter thunder… summer snow… A sign of heaven’s strange will.

“Seven Kill Star,” Tian Xingzi murmured to himself, listening to the winter thunder, his eyes fixed on Jiang Zhuojun.