“Your shifu disdains that I have no father or mother, and am a wild girl,” she pointed out. “What if he doesn’t allow it?”

Cao Weining made another big hand wave. “Then you’ll abduct me, and we’ll elope.”

“Pah! Am I that ravenous?” she fumed.

He thought some more. “Then I’ll pretend to switch roles to a flower-stealer, abduct you, and we’ll elope.”

Upon deliberation, she believed that that was a terrible idea, but also just good enough. She thus nodded, satisfied, and reached out her tiny hand to hook around Cao Weining’s. They rode side-by-side, which was simply sickeningly sweet.

In full contentment, he thought, So, this is what it is to have a wife… having one is really nice. She’s soft, smells good, and when she leans against me, even my heart melts after her. She smiles at me, and I immediately get dizzy. She’s someone who will know when I’m feeling hot or cold, or will make up the bed… in the future, we’ll build a little house with a little courtyard, have a couple chubby little kids, and I’ll hear her voice sharply calling for me to come home for dinner…

The more he thought, the more beautiful those thoughts became, until his desire to spout poetry was overwhelming. “Golden wind and jadeite dew meet once, superior to the countless meetings of the mortal realm,” he crisply recited. “In the Heavens, I wish for us to be birds of the same feather. On Earth, I wish for us to be conjoined trees…”[1]

Those people scheming this and scheming that the day long, struggling to make others die while living themselves; what was the point of it? Practicing exceptional, divine arts, being number one in the realm through a thousand autumns and innumerable generations; what was the point of that?

They would still be old bachelors all their lives, never getting wives.

Cao Weining vaguely felt them to all be a bit pitiful.

When Lord Seventh and the Great Shaman returned carrying a bunch of medical supplies, they caught sight of Zhou Zishu sitting in the courtyard, whittling a flute. His craftsmanship was nothing great, and he was using materials from his surroundings, even having ruined a few prior, all sounds they made muted when played and producing a field’s worth of wood dust. As Lord Seventh drew near, he discovered that his latest flute had since taken shape.

The Great Shaman nodded at Zhou Zishu, then turned and went in the house, not having anything to say to him.

Lord Seventh conversely sat down at the side. “What are you doing?”