Chapter 101: Poached Phoenix Eggs, Unfertilized
Su Yao phased to the commercial district. Her spiritual senses pinpointed the diluted abyssal signature. She found the Deep Princess in the back kitchen of a cramped noodle shop scrubbing a stack of bowls in soapy water with her hair tied back and a stained apron around her waist.
The girl looked up. Her eyes widened. “You! Do you know where my brother is?”
Su Yao leaned against the doorframe. “Your brother is currently filling out forms at the government Stabilization Bureau. He has accepted employment. If you wish to see him, report to the same address. Don’t cause a scene here. The dishes are already clean.”
The Deep Princess dropped a plate. It shattered on the wet floor. “Employment? He would never serve mortals!”
“He was convinced. The alternative was a gourd.” Su Yao gestured with her chin. “Go now. Your shift here is over.”
Discarding her apron, the Deep Princess shoved past the cook. She ran out of the restaurant, dripping soapy water onto the street. Su Yao watched her go. Another trivial matter resolved.
The burly man with a greasy apron stormed over to Su Yao. “Hey! Who are you? What’s your business with my dishwasher?”
Su Yao looked at him. “I am her adoptive mother. Due to family matters that require immediate attention, her return will not be possible.”
The cook’s face reddened. “Her mother? She never said anything about a mother! You can’t just come in here and—”
“The matter is settled.” Su Yao cut him off. “Don’t interfere.” She walked away, leaving the cook spluttering in the empty kitchen.
She pulled out her phone and opened the FFF chat group.
Su Yao: I’ve acquired a new title. Deep Queen. The Tide Cutter sword grants sovereignty over the abyssal realms.
Kayo: OMG!! A QUEEN! Does this mean we get discounts at seafood restaurants?! ??
Baoqing: Interesting. Does this political position come with taxable income? The reporting requirements could be complex.
Yuzuriha: How lovely for you, dear. I do hope this doesn’t mean more damp weather. It’s terrible for my garden.
Xie Jing: Is the Deep Prince single? He sounds tragically romantic. A royal from the depths, misunderstood...
Su Yao: He is currently completing government paperwork. His relationship status is irrelevant.
Su Yao: Since when is Xie Jing in this chat?
Kayo: I added her! We need all hands on deck for the comet discussion. She’s got that whole ‘abyssal wisdom’ thing going on.
Xie Jing: Hello! Kayo said you were talking about the comet. I think it’s quite romantic. A celestial light show for all of us to enjoy!
Su Yao: This is a tactical channel. Focus on the threat assessment.
Xie Jing: But isn’t it beautiful? The way it streaks across the sky, like a tear from the heavens...
Su Yao: It’s a projectile of ice and rock that may amplify spiritual energies to catastrophic levels. Keep your sentimental nonsense to yourself.
Su Yao: I will see you in class today. Don’t be late. If you miss the exam outline for the midterms, I will not repeat it for you.
Xie Jing: Exams? But the comet is coming! Shouldn’t we be preparing for the celestial event?
Su Yao: The comet is days away. Your failure is imminent if you neglect this. Be there.
Xie Jing: Fine, fine. But if the world ends before the midterm, I’m blaming you.
Su Yao: If the world ends, your grade will be the least of your concerns. Don’t test me.
Su Yao sat in her usual seat at the back of the lecture hall. Xie Jing arrived and taken a spot near the front. The professor was droning on about supply curves when a student in the row between them turned his head, glancing from Su Yao to Xie Jing and back.
“Hey,” he whispered loud enough to draw attention. “You two look almost identical. Are you sisters or something?”
Xie Jing blinked and offered a polished smile. “Oh, we just share a common ancestor! It’s a coincidence, really.”
Su Yao’s gaze remained fixed on the professor. “We aren’t related. Focus on the lecture.”
Another student chimed in. “No, seriously, the resemblance is uncanny. Same eyes, same bone structure. You gotta be twins!”
Xie Jing giggled. “Well, I suppose we both have that classic beauty!”
Su Yao’s voice cut through the chatter. “The only thing we share is this classroom. If you don’t cease this irrelevant speculation, I will make sure you fail the midterm.”
The student who had spoken up paled. “How could you possibly make me fail? You’re not the professor.”
“You fail by default if you aren’t present for the examination. I can make sure you aren’t present. Permanently, if necessary.”
Utter silence fell over the classroom. Swallowing hard, the student sank lower in his seat without another word escaping him. The professor adjusted his glasses and continued the lesson as if nothing had happened. Xie Jing sketched a small, smiling fox in the margin of her notes.
The class ended and the professor left the room. Su Yao remained in her seat, watching as students began to pack up.
A group of students clustered near the door, discussing the midterm. “I can hide notes in my calculator,” one said.
“Better to use a phone,” another suggested.
Su Yao approached them. “Your plans are flawed. If you want to cheat, memorize the entire syllabus before the exam. Then you carry the answers in your mind.”
They looked at her. “But that’s just studying!”
“It’s the most effective form of deception.” Su Yao nodded. “Now, go away.”
The students hurried out, leaving her alone in the classroom. Schemes to bypass effort filled their chatter.
Youth these days would rather orchestrate elaborate deceptions than simply open a book. They will spend hours planning to hide a phone, but not thirty minutes reviewing a chapter.
Their voices faded into the corridor. In the sudden quiet, Su Yao glanced toward the projector screen where the professor's lecture notes still listed the week's assigned readings. The neat list of books and articles reminder her about how often other people decided what was worth recording.
Perhaps it was time she wrote her own biography.
The Azure Mist Chronicles had twisted her life into something unrecognizable. If the truth were going to exist at all, she would have to put it down herself.
She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Yumi.
Su Yao: Your services are required again. We are writing the accurate version of my biography. Prepare to take notes.
The response was immediate.
Yumi: Understood.
Su Yao walked into the library and sent a message to Yumi.
Su Yao: Meet me at the Duwang University Library. Now.
Yumi arrived soon, carrying a sleek laptop and a notepad. “I’ve prepared several outlining templates. Shall we begin with the poisoning incident or the establishment of the Eternal Banquet?”
“Start with the Banquet,” Su Yao said. “Describe it as a celestial gathering of enlightened beings. Emphasize the artistry and the cultural exchange.”
Yumi started typing. “Noted. I will draft a prologue that contrasts the movie’s fabrication with the historical truth. Would you like to include firsthand accounts from other attendees?”
“That’s unnecessary. My testimony is sufficient.” Su Yao’s eyes narrowed. “And make sure the prose is dignified. No flowery language or melodrama.”
“Of course,” Yumi said. “The tone will be authoritative and factual, but accessible to modern readers.”
Su Yao paused her dictation and glanced at Yumi. “Where is Li Xiu? Why are you not guarding her?”
Yumi continued typing. “She’s in her classroom, memorizing material she’ll all forget by next week for an exam. The professor has banned me from the room because the male students get distracted by my appearance and stop paying attention.”
Su Yao snorted. “Their weakness isn’t your concern. As long as Li Xiu is secure, spend your time here.” She returned to the manuscript. “Now, describe the banquet’s menu. The film depicted us eating souls. We actually served poached phoenix eggs.”
Yumi paused typing. “But if the eggs contained the souls of unhatched chicks, wouldn’t that technically be,”
“The eggs were not fertilized,” Su Yao interrupted. “The film’s portrayal was both libelous and biologically illiterate.”
She gestured for Yumi to continue. “The next course was ambrosia distilled from morning dew. Don’t let the mortals’ limited understanding twist the facts. We were gourmets.”
Yumi nodded. “Understood. Poached phoenix eggs, unfertilized. Ambrosia from morning dew.”
“The next section details the musical performances.” Yumi continued typing. “The film showed crude drumming, but historical records indicate celestial harmonies were performed.”
“Correct,” Su Yao said. “The melodies were woven from starlight and silence. Mortal instruments could not reproduce them.” She paused, then added, “Don’t attempt to describe the sound. Their limited senses would misinterpret it as wind chimes or some other trivial noise.”
Yumi nodded. “I will state that the music transcended human perception. Shall we address the claim that you forced guests to fight to the death for entertainment?”
Su Yao’s lip curled. “That’s absurd. The duels were voluntary and ended at first blood. The film made it seem like a barbarian gladiator pit.” She leaned forward. “Write this clearly: participation was considered an honor. The losers received compensatory gifts of spiritual treasures.”
Yumi adjusted the manuscript. “The contrast between the truth and the film’s lies is striking.”
“Good,” Su Yao said. “Now, the chapter on Li Xuan’s last visit to the Banquet. The movie showed him storming in with a drawn sword. In reality, he arrived as a guest, under a temporary truce. He spent the first hour criticizing the vintage of the fire-wine.”
Yumi smiled. “I will note his poor taste in alcohol.”
“See that you do.” Su Yao’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then stood. “We will continue tomorrow. Don’t alter what we’ve written.”
Yumi closed her laptop. “The draft is preserved. I will await your next session.”
Su Yao walked away from the library. Yumi’s transformation from a possessive menace with a taste for livers into a model bureaucrat with a gift for writing nagged at Su Yao.
She found Li Xiu by the university’s central fountain, tossing pieces of bread to a cluster of ducks. A small smile was on her face as the birds quacked around her.
Su Yao appeared beside her. “What did you do to Yumi?”
Li Xiu glanced over. “Good afternoon to you too, Xiao Ling. What do you mean?”
“She is functional and cooperative. That gumiho was a chaotic predator. Now she writes prose and follows orders. Explain the process. Did you use a binding oath? A behavioral modification curse?”
Scattering a few more breadcrumbs, Li Xiu shook her head. “I talked to her the way you talk to anyone else, asking about her day and cooking her mapo tofu. We watch dramas together.”
Su Yao stared. “You befriend her? That is your method?”
“She was lonely,” Li Xiu said. “She’d been bound to a man who saw her as a tool or a trophy for centuries. I saw a friend who was hurting. So I acted like one.”
“Hmph,” Su Yao grunted. “An unreliable strategy. But I can’t argue with the results.” She looked at the ducks, then back at Li Xiu. “Continue your friendship. It’s useful.”
“The supply of acceptable human liver is limited,” Li Xiu replied. “I only source it from convicted, unrepentant murderers. The supply is inconsistent. Duck liver is a sustainable alternative. It keeps her satisfied and prevents, incidents.”
“A moral butcher,” Su Yao mused. A smile played on her lips. “An oxymoron. But your resourcefulness is noted. Does Yumi enjoy the substitution?”
“She has developed a preference for foie gras with a black bean glaze,” Li Xiu admitted. “It’s more palatable than the alternative and far less likely to attract celestial attention.”
“Practical,” Su Yao conceded. “And the criminals?”
“Their souls are dealt with according to their karma. The liver is merely a byproduct.” Li Xiu met Su Yao’s gaze. “It’s a sustainable ecosystem.”
“Your ecosystem is built on sentiment and loopholes,” Su Yao said. “But I will not interfere. A stable gumiho is a useful gumiho. Just make sure your ‘harvesting’ does not create paperwork for me.”
She moved closer. “Listen carefully. Gumiho are predators by nature. The only safe responses are to destroy them immediately or escape. The best you can hope for is to divert their hunger with offerings, but that is a temporary measure at best.”
Li Xiu nodded. “I understand the risk. But Yumi has shown no signs of aggression since we established our understanding.”
“Don’t mistake control for change,” Su Yao said. “Her instincts remain. She will reverts if your supply of livers fails or if she grows bored. Stay vigilant.”
“She isn’t wrong.”
Li Xiu turned to see Yumi standing a few feet away, fixing her eyes on Su Yao. “The hunger is always there. It’s a tide beneath the stone. You’ve built a very effective dam, Li Xiu. But a dam isn’t the same as drying up the sea.”
She stepped forward. “I appreciate the duck livers and I enjoy our evenings watching television. But don’t forget what I am. Her advice is the conventional wisdom for a reason.”
Li Xiu looked between them.
Yumi smiled. “Now, shall we go home? I believe the new episode of our drama is starting soon.”