2
Covered in dust and thoroughly dirty, Hua Diao was in the greatest distress of her life. In the moment of the collapse, Krusty had flipped her away, sending her flying, and so she’d escaped unharmed, but she’d gotten stuck on a pine branch and had spent a short while unconscious. When she woke up, the topography of Mount Lang Jun had changed drastically, and it had taken her easily half a day to crawl up the rocky mountainside.
Pathetically, she was leaking big tears, and her nose was terribly snuffly.
Her plain yet dignified heavenly retainer’s clothes were worn through and ragged. For that matter, Hua Diao herself was ragged as well.
“What an awful thing to happen.”
Despondent, she came to a stop, but then she gritted her teeth and got over another boulder.
She was short, and to her, the sort of level difference Krusty could cross in a single stride was a cliff.
“I wonder if Master Immortal is all right. And all our companions, too…”
The martenfolk were heavenly officials who administered fairyland. That wasn’t a lie. In which case, what was a heavenly official? Frankly, Hua Diao didn’t know the answer.
What, on the other hand, was a government official? Hua Diao didn’t know the exact meaning of that term or job, either.
She was conscious that it was a respected civil service position. She had self-esteem that told her it must be something important. However, if asked why it was important, the only answer she could give was a vague Because you’re a heavenly official, maybe? She understood so little about the specific duties that, if asked what they were, she would have averted her eyes.
According to her hazy memories of the term civil servant, you had a boss who gave you orders and duties to carry out, but Hua Diao had no direct boss. She’d never met one, not in all the time since she was born, and she hadn’t taken any orders.
If she’d had to say, all the Ancients and Immortals should have counted as her boss, but until the Enchantress Youren had visited, no Immortals had come to the fairyland where Hua Diao lived.
In addition, Hua Diao didn’t really know what heaven was, either.
She knew it was somewhere up above them, and that the Immortals lived there, but she’d never been, not once.
From the time they were born, Hua Diao and the other martenfolk had been in the enchanted land on Mount Lang Jun, and they’d lived as its caretakers. Well, they might have been more like freeloaders than government officials…
After a certain point in time, fairyland had grown large, the number of rooms in the shrine had increased, and her sisters had increased in number as well before she was aware of it, but Hua Diao and the others had lived modestly. They swept the shrine, sprinkled water on the long, perilous stone staircase, and greeted Zhu Huan and the other worshippers who stopped by on occasion. Most of their meals consisted of hard tree nuts. The peaches belonged to the Immortals, and it was a grave crime for a government official to help herself to one.
For that reason, when Krusty had appeared, she’d been really happy.
She’d heard he was there to convalesce from an illness, so she’d nursed him with everything she’d had, but it didn’t seem to have been all that serious. In the end, he’d spent his time speaking to Hua Diao and the others about all sorts of things.
She didn’t understand his personality very well, and he had a spiteful streak, but he was intelligent and elegant, and she thought he was a kind boss.
As Hua Diao and her sisters gazed up at the peaches that swayed in the soft breezes of fairyland, he’d picked large fruits without so much as hesitating and given them to them. He’d teased them as he’d done it—“When your limbs are short, you can’t really climb trees, can you?”—but that was misdirection, and just so like him, Hua Diao thought. After all, the martenfolk were all accomplished tree climbers.
The peaches had been meltingly sweet, but the dishes Master Immortal made were even more splendid. He wouldn’t always make them, but they were far, far more flavorful than the things the martenfolk made. The martenfolk should have been able to get by without eating, but they’d even take human shape or turn into spirits in order to line up for the food Master Immortal made.
Wasn’t his “stewed cubed-pork and boiled egg set meal” far more delicious than the court cuisine said to be served in the heavenly palace, which they knew of in theory? This was a secret, but as the leader, and therefore the one who was treated to it every time, Hua Diao would roll right over for it.
As a result, right now, Hua Diao’s nose was bright red from crying.
Krusty had been swallowed up by that pitch-black hole, and just the thought that he might have been smashed flat by a huge boulder made her chest feel as if it were being crushed.
She wanted him to serve her that peach tarte tatin he made—sweet and mellow, with a hint of bitterness, as if it had been slightly scorched—one more time. She wanted him to display the brilliant skill with which he cut it into twelve equal pieces, smiling meanly as he did so.
Wiping her nose, Hua Diao looked up abruptly, then froze. Glittering rainbow light was climbing into the blue of the early-morning sky. The light was really pretty, but it seemed very sad somehow, and her heart ached.
It was the first time Hua Diao had ever seen that light.
Mount Lang Jun was the enormous rocky mountain whose peak housed the Bai Tao Shrine. However, in this new situation, it had become clear that the mountain’s interior was a veritable anthill of countless limestone caverns.
The bedrock was more than hard enough, and the caves had probably been created through erosion over tens of thousands of years. However, at this point, those limestone caverns were caving in everywhere, and either passage was impossible, or new connecting routes had appeared. Even as Hua Diao crawled across the mountain’s surface like this, here and there the scenery was different from what she remembered.
She descended the rubble-littered slope of a mortar-shaped depression where the rock—which ordinarily had a small path running across it—had collapsed. The footing was too unstable for her to walk upright, and sometimes she crawled down, facing backward. Even then, the rocks collapsed with a clatter, making her uneasy.
The scenery that spread before Hua Diao was a familiar underground cavern, but as she went down several differences in level, it changed. The natural rock, as black as if it was wet, became a floor with straight, geometric lines in a bright gray. The corridor Hua Diao was traveling down was shaped like a tube that would have been an octagon if you cut it into slices.
It was grimy and covered in dust, but it seemed as if it had probably been clean once. This was clear from the way the corridor stretched on and on, with no distortions in its angle or size. Fissures ran through the corridor in places, and through them, she could see metal pipes and structures with strange, threadlike things buried in them. This place might be an underground fortress or a ruin.
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