Volume One, Chapter 63: Born to Be a Wordcaster

“Grandma, please don’t beg this cunning, deceitful, detestable human!”

Qin Yu thought, why does this little snake always speak in idioms, four words at a time? Is it practicing proverbs with her?

“If you still think of me as your grandma, then keep your mouth shut!”

Grandma turned and scolded sternly.

The little green snake immediately fell silent, though its emerald eyes glared at Qin Yu with unyielding defiance, as if it wanted nothing more than to swallow her whole.

Qin Yu’s lips twitched.

This little green snake truly was asking for trouble.

“My surname is Gu, but I can’t remember my given name. The spirits here all call me Grandma Gu out of respect.”

“I am the first antique ever collected by the Luo family. I have been here the longest.”

“I can see right through the nature of these antiques. As for this little green snake, I, Grandma Gu, can vouch with my ghostly honor that she is not a wicked thing. I beg you, Master, to show her mercy!”

Grandma Gu stood before the little green snake, like an elder shielding her, pleading on her behalf.

Qin Yu pressed her lips together, gazing at Grandma Gu in silence. After a long moment, her eyes darkened. “Grandma Gu, have you ever borne a life on your hands?”

Grandma Gu wore a deep brown cheongsam, modestly slit at the leg.

She carried an air tempered by the passage of years; no matter how startled she might be, nothing showed on her serene face.

“I have killed, but I do not regret it.”

Because of her violence, she was tainted with resentment and unable to reincarnate smoothly; because of her attachment, she lingered in the mortal world. Until all those she cared for had passed, only she remained—an unremembered, lonely ghost wandering the earth.

When the last traces of her ghostly energy were spent, no one would remember there ever was a Grandma Gu.

Through Grandma Gu’s murky eyes, Qin Yu glimpsed sorrow and a faint melancholy.

Qin Yu’s long lashes lowered, her lovely lips parting slightly. “All things follow the cycle of cause and effect, each with its own fate. In the end, none can escape the word ‘Dao’—the Way.”

“And what is the Way?”

With a gentle shake of her head, Qin Yu smiled, her neat white teeth strangely endearing. “The Way is natural, beyond words. You cannot fully comprehend it, nor can I. We are but one link in the chain of the Dao, propelled forward by it, and in turn propelling it onward.”

It felt to Grandma Gu as if a pair of invisible hands had parted the clouds above her head. Her cloudy eyes cleared, and she was suddenly enlightened. “So that’s it! So that’s it!”

Her hunched figure bowed deeply to Qin Yu. “Master, thank you for your guidance! Once I fulfill my last wish, I will let go of everything.”

Little Green’s jaw dropped in surprise, her tongue flicking out with a hiss before she quickly caught herself and closed her mouth again.

From her angle, she could just see Grandma Gu discreetly wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

For no reason, she glanced at Qin Yu, her gaze openly complex and bewildered.

This Daoist nun is truly persuasive. I’d better be wary of her.

If Qin Yu knew what the little green snake was thinking, she would have pried open the snake’s head and poured in a bucket of Yellow River water, just to jumpstart those underdeveloped brains and fill the emptiness between its ears.

“If you don’t come out of Luo Yiyi’s body soon, I’m afraid by the time she wakes up, multiple fractures will be inevitable,” Qin Yu said, addressing Little Green.

Little Green, being a ghost, had no concept of such things, but any normal human body suspended in that position for a long time would be lucky to escape with only a few broken bones.

Little Green’s emerald eyes darted sideways, calculating. “Then why don’t you hurry up and let me down?”

Qin Yu’s delicate doe eyes blinked as she flicked her hand casually through the air. The restraints binding Little Green’s body vanished instantly.

Little Green plummeted to the ground, but just before hitting the floor, she twisted midair.

With a thud, Luo Yiyi landed on the floor. Aside from a slight darkening of her face, she was otherwise unharmed.

A wisp of green smoke slid from beneath her, slipping away and vanishing.

Qin Yu, amused by the little green snake’s scheming, suppressed her laughter and said to Grandma Gu on the screen, “Grandma, I have a favor to ask.”

Grandma Gu’s expression was full of respect. “Please, Master.”

“I need you to gather the Luo family members. Also, could you place the phone somewhere we can see the scene?”

Grandma Gu looked troubled, but Qin Yu continued, “You can borrow Luo Yiyi’s body.”

“Very well! I’ll take care of it at once!”

Grandma Gu was efficient. She entered Luo Yiyi’s body, placed the phone on the stand in a proper position, then used Luo Yiyi’s memories to call Father and Mother Luo, lying that something important had happened.

Meanwhile, Little Green was hiding inside the painting, listening intently to the sounds outside.

But outside, it was perfectly quiet.

She shifted her serpentine body in confusion.

She had escaped from Luo Yiyi’s body—why wasn’t the Daoist nun coming after her?

She coiled herself up, pretending to be calm, but her constantly twitching tail betrayed her anxiety and curiosity.

“Just looking at you annoys me!”

In a fit of frustration, Little Green bit her own tail, and tears streamed down her face.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

...

Qin Yu’s ears were naturally a bit smaller than most, dainty and pearl-like.

Her slender ear bones twitched as she looked at the bamboo painting on the candlestick and smiled.

It was a mocking smile.

Inside the bamboo painting, a pair of cold eyes stared straight at her.

One day, she would bite off her head! She had never eaten a human, but surely it couldn’t be that difficult!

“Did anyone else notice that the streamer smiled so many times tonight?”

“I did! She looked so beautiful! I even took a screenshot to use as my phone wallpaper for good luck.”

“You’re so smart! Would you mind sharing that? I want a picture of her as my wallpaper too.”

“Master, what are you smiling at? Don’t keep it to yourself—let us all share the fun!”

“Am I the only one who noticed that the little green snake is gone?”

“Wait, did she escape? I’m home alone—she’s not going to crawl through the internet cables and find me, is she?”

“How many guilty secrets do you have to be so afraid of ghosts knocking at your door?”

Qin Yu looked at the commenter, her eyelid twitching. “To the user named ‘Mountain Rain of Bashan,’ if you can speak less, please do.”

Mountain Rain of Bashan: “???”

“Hahaha, sorry, ‘Mountain Rain of Bashan,’ to meet you in this way.”

Mountain Rain of Bashan: “...”

Mountain Rain of Bashan: “Master, what do you mean by that? Why does it sound so strange?”

Qin Yu lifted her eyelids. “Your feeling is correct. You might be a natural Word Spirit Master. Speak as little as possible.”

“Word Spirit Master? What’s that? Sounds so impressive!”

“Bashan Raincloud, you are so fortunate! (òó)”

“Maybe their name is ‘Mountain Rain of Bashan,’ you know?”

Mountain Rain of Bashan: “Whoa? A Word Spirit Master—am I really a Word Spirit Master?”

Mountain Rain of Bashan: “That’s so cool!”

Mountain Rain of Bashan: “Master, if I have this gift, can I cultivate like you, capture ghosts, and eventually achieve enlightenment?”

Qin Yu: “Let me thank you in advance.”

Mountain Rain of Bashan was baffled. What did she mean by that? Why was she thanking him?

Then Qin Yu’s unhurried voice came through. “Simply put, a Word Spirit Master is someone whose words become reality, as they say online—a mouth that brings things into existence.”