Inside the He Mansion.
With a dull thud, a ceramic jar standing on the windowsill crashed to the floor and shattered.
"Who—?!"
The cook, carrying a platter, spun around and was about to scold someone, but no person stood in sight. Only a pair of black-and-white wings fluttered out the window, flew past the eaves, and settled on the branches of a plum tree by the courtyard wall.
"Just a magpie…" the cook sighed in relief. Since no one had knocked over the jar, it was simply bad luck.
She set down the wooden platter, bent to gather the shards. These jars were common in the mansion, used to hold pickled bamboo shoots, green beans, pickled vegetables, and the like. One of the dishes at today's wedding feast was stir-fried pickled bamboo shoots with cured meat—a traditional Hakka specialty. After preparing dozens of tables, the empty pickle jars in the kitchen formed row after row, so it wasn't surprising that a stray magpie might knock one over.
Besides, she wasn't even angry. A magpie flying into the walls on a wedding day was considered an auspicious omen.
Sweeping up the pieces with a dustpan, she straightened, looking at the magpie perched in the plum tree. Though her face was concealed by yellow paper, a smile played across her lips. "A magpie alights on the plum branches; Miss Nianjun is truly blessed. Why didn't I have such a sign when I married?"
No wonder her married life was always full of bickering and reconciliations.
Shaking her head, the cook dumped the shards by the stove. Behind her came the faint birdcalls and fluttering wings—surely the magpie had flown off.
"I wonder where that servant boy Shùnshēng wandered off to… Everyone's working themselves to near madness back there." After tidying the tiles, she picked up her platter and went on serving dishes.
Not long after she left, a staggering figure rose from the thick flowerbeds. He was covered in wounds—open gashes, bruises from countless bumps, a dislocated left shoulder, a limping leg that seemed fractured, and a jawbone split in two, held together only by flesh.
It was the ever-unfortunate Níng Zhé.
Wiping fresh blood from his face, he looked up at the magpie in the plum tree and suddenly smiled.
He curled his lips slightly, and the gentle birdcall drifted from his mouth—despite the few teeth he'd lost.
Modern city children rarely learn to mimic bird whistles, but Níng Zhé was no city boy. Born and raised in the countryside—with an authentic rural household registration—he had once helped his grandfather herd cattle.
His clear birdcall rang out, then in the next moment, the battered youth vanished, replaced by another magpie on the branch.
When the cook mistook Níng Zhé's whistle and flutter for a magpie, he truly became one.
Beating his black-and-white wings, Níng Zhé soared into the sky and looked south. On the empty street, a procession of blood-spattered footmen in white clothes beat gongs and drums, joyfully playing suona as they marched toward him.
In the center of the procession they bore the lotus platform that once held the Snake God.
"At least I caught up…" Níng Zhé exhaled. He refused to believe that misfortune could follow him into the sky.
In the next instant, a sleek black shadow detached from the plum tree and lunged at him.
"Fuck you, Snake God."
Níng Zhé raised a middle finger—if he still had one.
If any humans were born with extraordinary gifts, it was Níng Zhé. Even as a bird, he was fiercer than any ordinary magpie. After briefly adjusting to his avian vision and form, he tilted his body, beat his wings, and engaged the frenzied magpie in midair combat.
Though pecked blind in one eye, Níng Zhé managed to kill the rabid bird. Bleeding, he landed on the He Mansion's courtyard wall and, tilting his head, watched the approaching procession through his remaining eye.
He did not worry for Féng Yùshù's safety. Until she fully understood that "Níng Zhé impersonated a ghost to call her on Lín Zhiyuǎn's phone," the ghost would never harm her—otherwise it would permanently lose the identity piece Níng Zhé had stolen.
Féng Yùshù would not die, not until she learned the truth.
Perched on the wall, Níng Zhé quietly observed the blood-stained procession bearing the lotus platform toward the He Mansion's main gate. Each footman was wounded—some with burst abdomens, some limping heavily, and the suona player at the front had no head.
They had been unlucky all the way here, snake god included. Its decayed wooden body lay in pieces, its two horns broken, though the head remained intact with the almanac still affixed to its tongue.
On the almanac, today's verdict was barely legible:
宜: Killing living beings
忌: Travelling, funerals, mourning rites, worship
Blinded in one eye, Níng Zhé couldn't read the extra text on the almanac at this distance. His heart pounded:
"It's come to the crucial moment. Whether I can wreck this world depends on now…"
Flapping his black-and-white wings, he flew down to the eaves of the main gate as the footmen carried the heavy wooden lotus platform through it. A nimble magpie slipped past their sight and landed silently among the shattered remains of the Snake God.
Níng Zhé folded his wings and slipped into the Snake God's wide-open mouth, curling into its throat. Motionless, he let the procession bring the fragmented deity to the main hall's entrance.
"Serpent—Goddess—Grandma—has—arrived—"
Resounding cries and piercing suona filled the air above table after table of sumptuous dishes. The gongs, drums, and silk-and-bamboo ensemble set a rhythmic accompaniment as the bloodied footmen carried the Snake God's corpse into the grand hall.
Hidden in the snake's throat, Níng Zhé couldn't see outside. But from the calls of the servants, he gleaned some vital—if confusing—details:
"They call the Snake God 'Grandma'?"
"Is the Snake God a female deity?"
Before he could piece these questions together, the heavy lotus platform was gently set down in the center of the hall. Guests all around, seemingly unaware that the Snake God lay in tatters, raised their cups with rosy faces and unleashed a barrage of auspicious toasts:
"One cup to the Sovereign Heavens!"
"Two cups to the Queen of Earth!"
"Three cups to our Serpent Grandma—may she live ten thousand years!"
As the rice wine flowed and blessings rang out, Níng Zhé's vision swam black.
He couldn't count how many people shared the Snake God's toast. The flood of information pounded into his skull like an overloaded dump truck.
"Fuck…"
From that headache-inducing torrent, Níng Zhé extracted one clear fact:
"Today is the wedding feast of Third Miss He, He Nianjun, and she is marrying… Zhàoyòu."
Now Níng Zhé knew: Zhàoyòu was the Snake God's true name.
But wasn't the Snake God Grandma supposed to be female?
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild
Reference Glossary
Hakka cuisine – A regional Chinese culinary tradition noted for hearty, preserved ingredients such as pickled bamboo shoots and cured meats.
Zhàoyòu – The Snake God's original name, revealing the deity's true identity.