The Birds Keep Ringing Chapter 5
byChapter 5: The Fifth Chapter – Midnight Shura Field, One Bird Startles Three Young Masters…
The moon hung in the sky. Yun Zhen squatted on the windowsill, tilting his head and staring at it for a long time. He felt it resembled the eye of the Heavenly Dao, specifically watching those who had done something shameful. Like him. Today, he had used his beak to shred Jiang Zhi’s tattered book to pieces.
It wasn’t an accident; it was deliberate.
Here is how it happened.
In the morning, before Jiang Zhi left to practice his sword, he routinely prepared millet and fresh water for Yun Zhen. Yun Zhen was happily eating until he lowered his head and saw The Classic of the Dao and Virtue (Dao De Jing) lying open on the table, densely covered in annotations.
This was absurd.
Jiang Zhi reading a book like this was more bizarre than the Senior Disciple suddenly announcing he was becoming a monk. It was likely a task assigned by Master, that old swindler. Master always liked to assign meaningless tasks, and Yun Zhen had suffered greatly from them too.
The handwriting of the annotations was sharp, carrying the same chilling aloofness as the person who wrote them.
Yun Zhen suddenly felt irritated, so he pecked it.
He started by tentatively pecking a corner of the book, then grew bolder, beginning to tear the pages. He became addicted to the ripping sound of the paper—a strangely satisfying release. By the time Yun Zhen realized what he was doing, The Classic of the Dao and Virtue had been reduced to a pile of scraps.
Looking at the paper confetti scattered across the floor, Yun Zhen suddenly panicked. It was a crime scene, and he was the sole suspect bird, with irrefutable evidence and nowhere to run.
He was waiting for Jiang Zhi to return. More accurately, he was waiting to see Jiang Zhi’s reaction when he saw the book.
Jiang Zhi returned to his room promptly at the end of the hour of Xu (7-9 PM) every day and woke up promptly at the first crow of the rooster, rain or shine, without fail. As for what he did during the time in between, Yun Zhen didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t much care to know. Given Jiang Zhi’s dull personality, he probably didn’t do anything interesting. Likely just sword practice and meditation.
But tonight, it was nearly the third watch (around midnight), and the man was still nowhere in sight.
A sudden sense of unease crept into Yun Zhen’s heart.
It wasn’t that he cared about Jiang Zhi much. Concern is often used to mask a deeper, more selfish need, and Yun Zhen’s need was simple: food.
If Jiang Zhi died outside, what would happen to him? Who would change his water? Who would refill his millet?
Master, that old man, was probably off somewhere wandering and seeking Enlightenment. Last time, he sat in a cave for three months straight. When he emerged, his beard was frozen solid, and the first thing he said upon seeing someone was, “Do you have anything to eat?” He heard that the woodcutter passing by was so terrified he dropped his carrying pole and ran, thinking he had encountered a white-haired zombie. Master chased after him and explained for a long time before the woodcutter believed he was human, then reluctantly shared half a steamed bun with him.
When Master returned, he told them, “During this Closed-door Cultivation, I finally grasped the true meaning of life.”
“What true meaning?” Yun Zhen had been curious.
“Steamed buns should be eaten hot,” Master replied with a profound expression.
Yun Zhen had thought at the time that Master’s brain might have been damaged during his retreat. Now, thinking back, Master was absolutely right. Life is often like this; you think you are pursuing something magnificent, but in the end, you realize all you were pursuing was a hot steamed bun.
Was he going to starve to death on this desolate mountain?
No, he had to go find Jiang Zhi.
Yun Zhen thought this primarily out of concern for his own rations. And incidentally, just incidentally, to see if he was dead.
If he wasn’t dead, he would peck him hard a couple of times and demand to know why he didn’t come home on time to feed the bird, and if he had any sense of responsibility. If he was dead, then… he would eat everything edible in the room and fly far away.
Yes, that was the plan.
Yun Zhen flapped his wings, shaking off his layer of fat, feeling like a general about to go into battle, except this general’s armor was made of feathers and was severely overweight.
Jiang Zhi had been feeding him too well lately. The millet, sourced from who knows where, was fragrant and sweet. Yun Zhen suspected Jiang Zhi was intentionally trying to turn him into a breathing ball of meat, too heavy to fly, so he would be trapped forever on this wretched mountain.
Human hearts are treacherous, and even a silent type like Jiang Zhi might harbor ill intentions.
Yun Zhen laboriously flew out of the room. The night wind hit him, nearly blowing him back into the womb.
At night, this barren mountain felt like a different place entirely. During the day, it merely looked desolate; at night, it was downright eerie. The wind whistled through the bare branches, wailing as if hundreds of wronged souls were singing in chorus. Yun Zhen kept feeling something rustling and following him in the grass.
He didn’t fly high, mainly because he couldn’t fly high.
Just because birds can fly doesn’t mean all birds fly high. Just as people can run, it doesn’t mean everyone runs fast.
As he flew, Yun Zhen suddenly noticed something was wrong.
Why were there so many living creatures in the mountains? A wild rabbit hopped past, followed closely by a badger, and then a fox. There was also a weasel, sneaking through the bushes, probably having just stolen someone’s chicken and preparing to flee. It saw Yun Zhen and even nodded at him, its eyes seeming to say: Brother, are you also here to seek refuge?
As Yun Zhen puzzled over this, an extremely ominous premonition shot from the tip of his tail feathers to his crown. He stiffly turned his head and saw a pair of glowing green eyes.
It was a cat.
A large tabby cat, yellow and white, was perched on a branch, its eyes like two small lanterns, staring intently at him.
In this life, Yun Zhen feared nothing but cats.
Cats were his true nemesis. He had been afraid of them since childhood, for no logical reason, just fear. They walked silently, and their eyes were unsettling. Yun Zhen always felt they weren’t creatures of this world.
This was a fear carried from the womb, utterly irrational. According to his mother, when he was still in swaddling clothes, the family cat jumped onto the bed to play with him, and he cried so hysterically he nearly ripped the roof off.
Since then, the Yun Family never kept cats again, not even daring to hang pictures of lucky cats.
Now, he was a bird, and cats were his natural enemy again.
The tabby cat slowly stood up, flicked its tail, and adopted an attack posture.
Yun Zhen’s mind went blank. Instinctively, he flapped his wings, flying higher and higher, but he was still clumsy, and there were too many obstacles here. He kept almost falling.
“Meow.”
The tabby cat leaped, pouncing toward him.
Yun Zhen was terrified out of his wits, flapping desperately, barely dodging the first attack. He darted wildly among the branches, completely disorganized, relying purely on instinct and luck.
The cat pursued relentlessly. It seemed to treat this as a game, deliberately staying one step behind Yun Zhen, as if toying with its prey. Felines were all like this—they played with their catch before finally biting them dead when they got bored.
As he flew, Yun Zhen cursed inwardly: Jiang Zhi! It’s all your fault! If it weren’t for you, why would I be chased all over the mountain by a cat right now! If I die, I will definitely become a vengeful ghost and find you! I’ll stand by your bed every night, staring at you while you sleep!
Just as he was about to collapse from exhaustion and resign himself to being slaughtered, the cat suddenly stopped.
It pricked up its ears alertly, looked into the distance, and then, with a whoosh, darted into the bushes, vanishing without a trace.
Yun Zhen clung to the branch, panting heavily. His wings were trembling, his claws were trembling, and even the feathers on his backside were shaking.
It took him a moment to realize something was wrong. Why did the cat suddenly run away?
Was there something even more terrifying ahead?
He lifted his head and looked through the gaps in the leaves. In the clearing ahead, two people were fighting.
Yun Zhen let out a sigh of relief. Good, they were people. People were always easier to deal with than ghosts or cats.
He flapped his wings and quietly flew over, landing on a tree.
Not far away, two figures were locked in a confrontation.
One was the Senior Disciple.
He was wearing a moon-white robe tonight, holding his ever-present folding fan. Opposite him was a young man in blue, wielding a long sword. His swordsmanship was fierce, every move aimed at a vital point.
Yun Zhen recognized him instantly: the young man in blue was the Xie Young Master who had caused trouble a few days ago.
Yun Zhen’s heart sank. This was bad. Why were these two fighting again? And out here in the wilderness? If someone died, there wouldn’t even be anyone to report it.
“Xiao Fengzhi!” Xie Young Master’s voice was filled with rage. “Do you really think you can hide forever?”
The Senior Disciple waved his fan. “Brother Xie, why be angry? What happened between us was merely a mutual agreement, a fleeting romance. Why cling to it?”
Xie Young Master sneered, “You didn’t say that when you tricked me into bed!”
Yun Zhen nearly fell off the tree.
That was a huge revelation! Tricked into bed? The Senior Disciple was actually this kind of person! Yun Zhen perked up his ears, afraid of missing a single word. Reality was much more exciting than the stories in the novels.
The Senior Disciple looked innocent, waving his fan even more cheerfully. “Brother Xie, that’s incorrect. I merely didn’t explicitly state that I was a man. Besides, I didn’t force you. Our hearts were connected, and weren’t you enjoying yourself at the time?”
Before he finished speaking, Xie Young Master’s sword lunged forward.
Yun Zhen watched with bated breath. He had thought the Senior Disciple was just a pretty face, but he was surprisingly skilled in a fight. The fan in his hand was wielded into an impenetrable barrier, and Xie Young Master’s sword couldn’t get close for a while.
Xie Young Master’s swordsmanship was broad and aggressive, carrying a vicious intent. It was clear he was genuinely trying to kill.
He said, “Xiao Fengzhi, if I don’t sever one of your arms today, this matter is far from over.”
Yun Zhen gasped. Sever an arm? That harsh? Truly, the human heart was depraved. Sleeping with someone cost an arm? The price was too high.
The Senior Disciple maintained his nonchalant attitude. “We are people of the martial world, unconcerned with minor details. Meeting by chance, developing affection, spending a night together—that’s a beautiful tale. Why make it so ugly? You already liked men; you just didn’t know it. I merely helped you realize the truth about yourself.”
“So you wore women’s clothes to seduce me?!” Xie Young Master gritted his teeth.
“That wasn’t seduction,” the Senior Disciple dodged. “When you saw me, your eyes went wide. What could I do? Besides, weren’t you happy then? Afterward, you even said you wanted to marry me. I almost agreed.”
Yun Zhen rolled his eyes from the tree. The Senior Disciple’s mouth would get him into trouble sooner or later.
No, it already had.
Sure enough, Xie Young Master’s face darkened further upon hearing this.
Xie Young Master’s sword thrust forward. Although the Senior Disciple’s fan was flashy, it was not a true weapon. The sword tore through his robe, leaving a cut on his shoulder.
Yun Zhen grew anxious.
Although the Senior Disciple was usually unreliable, he was still a fellow disciple. He couldn’t just watch him get hacked to death. Besides, if he died, who would draw Master’s fire in the future?
With that thought, Yun Zhen decided to intervene.
He flapped his wings and flew toward them, chirping as he went: “Chirp chirp chirp!”
Yun Zhen spotted a flaw in Xie Young Master’s defense and unleashed his ultimate technique—Divine Bird Descent!
When masters fight, you attack what they must defend. The eyes are so important; he would have to dodge, right? If he dodged, the sword would slow down, and the Senior Disciple could seize the opportunity to escape.
The plan was perfect. Yun Zhen swooped down from the tree.
“Senior Disciple!” Yun Zhen squawked. “Chirp—Chirp—”
Xiao Fengzhi heard the sound and subconsciously looked back.
That single glance was fatal. He saw a round bird flying toward them.
Xie Young Master was also startled when a ball of fluff suddenly darted out beside him. The trajectory of the fluff ball was completely erratic, up and down, left and right, utterly unpredictable.
What kind of hidden weapon was this?
The tip of the sword changed direction, aiming squarely at Yun Zhen.
Yun Zhen’s mind went blank. It was over. His life was going to end right here. He closed his eyes, ready to become a bird skewer.
Just as the sword tip was an inch away from him, a black shadow flashed past. A crisp clang rang out, and a powerful force struck, knocking the entire bird flying away.
Yun Zhen tumbled several times in the air like a kicked shuttlecock, dizzy and disoriented. Finally, he was caught steadily by a hand.
Still shaken, Yun Zhen looked up and saw Jiang Zhi.
He had appeared out of nowhere, moving so fast he was barely visible. He held Yun Zhen in one hand, while the fingers of his other hand were pressed together, clamping down on Xie Young Master’s sword edge.
He exerted force, and with a sharp crack, the long sword was knocked away. It flipped several times in the air before plunging into the ground nearby with a thud, the hilt still vibrating.
Xie Young Master clutched his wrist, his hand numb, glaring resentfully at Jiang Zhi, then turning to Xiao Fengzhi: “Can you be less pathetic? You call for backup every time!”
The Senior Disciple retorted, “Who called for backup? My junior disciple was just passing by! Besides, if you can’t beat my junior disciple, it’s your own lack of skill. Who can you blame?”
“You—”
Jiang Zhi ignored the two still arguing and looked down at the bird in his hand.
Yun Zhen was gripping his palm, his two claws clamped tightly. The entire bird was hanging from his hand, curled into a ball, feathers all puffed up, clearly terrified.
Jiang Zhi tried to gently pry the bird off, but it wouldn’t budge. When he tried to pull, the bird let out a pitiful “chirp.”
Jiang Zhi looked at Xiao Fengzhi expressionlessly and spoke his first words of the night.
“Handle your own mess.”
He took a few steps and tucked his hand, bird and all, inside the front of his robe. Yun Zhen quickly burrowed into his clothes, finding a comfortable spot.
Then, he felt something land on his head.
Jiang Zhi’s movement was clumsy, but the pressure was perfectly controlled, neither too heavy nor too light. His hand was cool, but the touch felt comfortable. Since childhood, Yun Zhen had been stroked on the head by his mother, by maids, and by his Senior Disciple Sister, but never by Jiang Zhi.
Through the layer of fabric, he could hear the other man’s heartbeat.
Thump, thump, steady and strong.
Unlike his own, which was beating wildly, threatening to jump out of his throat. Yun Zhen suddenly felt that Jiang Zhi wasn’t so annoying after all.
Thinking this, Yun Zhen felt a little embarrassed.
If he were in his human form right now, hanging onto Jiang Zhi like this would be inappropriate. Two grown men embracing so tightly—if word got out, people might assume they had some unspeakable relationship, just like the Senior Disciple and Xie Young Master.
Fortunately, he was a bird right now.
Yun Zhen snuggled further into Jiang Zhi’s embrace.
A bird hanging onto a person is perfectly natural!