The clam shell burned pink as the Clam Spirit jumped into the clear pool water, blowing bubbles with a "glub glub" sound.
Nezha thought to himself that even clams could be shy. Then it occurred to him—a female clam was also a woman.
Nezha froze for a moment, then remembered Li Jing's words. He lowered his hand and turned the pearl over in his fingers, lost in thought.
Although Immortal Fuyuan had spoken of a destined marriage, Nezha had followed Jiang Ziya to conquer the Shang at twelve, and ascended to the celestial realm fourteen years later. His entire youth had been spent in warfare—facing blades and spears, killing both men and women alike. When had he ever had time to concern himself with matters of men and women?
That long-bearded old thing, spouting nonsense.
Nezha had the appearance of a youth, and his temperament remained frozen at that stage. Though he had no deep understanding of relations between men and women, a shadow had been cast in his heart, and Nezha felt somewhat unsettled.
The pearl was tossed into the water. The Clam Spirit extended her tentacles to embrace it, then furtively tucked it away inside her shell.
Shuanglian, seeing that Nezha paid no attention, swam happily in the water, waggling her shell as she moved. Her tentacles tore off a piece of lotus petal, and she munched on it with contented little sounds.
"Hmph." Nezha, embarrassed and annoyed, slapped the water's surface with his bare hand—only to splash himself. Droplets clung to his jade-like features, looking quite disheveled.
That clam was clumsy too. When the wave came, she didn't know to dodge, and the current flipped her over like a little turtle, unable to right herself.
The Clam Spirit opened her shell, bubbles rising from the surface: "Glub… glub… Third Prince…"
Nezha scooped her up into his palm. Her tiny black eyes looked up at him upside down, her tentacles waving.
The Clam Spirit was so small and weak she couldn't even roll out of his palm. The gloom between his brows gradually dispersed. Nezha lowered his gaze, cradling the shell in his hand as he toyed with it: "How old are you?"
The Clam Spirit: "Reporting to the Third Prince, about a hundred-something years."
Before her reincarnation, she had been an ordinary clam with faint demonic power but no spiritual awareness. Shuanglian had cultivated for several years before she could even grow tentacles.
Nezha didn't answer, simply tossing her onto the jade couch.
Having gained benefits from Nezha, Shuanglian's cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds—she could now survive out of water. After eating her fill, she lay on the couch, contentedly squinting her tiny black eyes.
A corner of the soft Universe-Overturning Silk drifted down, covering the clam shell. Shuanglian burrowed beneath the silk, full and sleepy.
Another incense stick's time passed, and Nezha climbed onto the couch, holding her. He cast aside all thoughts of propriety between men and women, simply feeling that the Clam Spirit belonged to water, and being near her was comfortable.
Made of lotus, he knew nothing of the world's heat or cold. In truth, he feared neither heat nor cold, but he could sense temperature. He knew what warmth was—and the Clam Spirit was cool.
When he held the Clam Spirit, that ice-cold clam shell pressed against his chest. Occasionally, when Nezha slept deeply, he would lower his head and nuzzle against the shell. The fine ridges of the shell traced across his cheek, bringing a delicate, ticklish sensation.
When he woke in the morning, sometimes the Clam Spirit had fallen into the hollow of his neck, the shell pressed against his throat as she breathed, strands of his hair caught in the shell's seam; sometimes she was nestled against Nezha's cheek, leaving a red mark pressed into his face; sometimes the Clam Spirit lay peacefully on his bare chest, her tiny body endlessly cooling him down.
This morning when he woke, the Clam Spirit stirred on his chest, groggily opening her shell and her tiny black eyes.
Nezha asked: "Awake?"
"Mmm." Half-asleep, she answered weakly. Nezha found her pleasing to look at, and slipped a finger into the shell to rub her. After rousing the Clam Spirit fully, he took out a pill and tucked it into the shell.
Shuanglian was startled by the enormous object, her tentacles wrapping around it.
Nezha: "Taishang Laojun's Taiyi Pill."
Shuanglian hugged the pill and nibbled on it: "Oh."
In the worldview of Journey to the West, diligent cultivation was no match for finding a powerful patron. Following the Great Divine of the Three Altars and Seas around certainly had its benefits.
Nezha went out once and swept through the entire heavenly court. Shuanglian knew these were all priceless treasures unavailable on the open market. She obediently ate them, and after finishing, opened her shell wide, letting Nezha's fingers probe inside.
His fingertips touched the pearl, scraped against the clam's flesh, and said with all seriousness, "It's grown a bit," and "The celestial treasures weren't wasted." When he touched the pearl, the Clam Spirit was tormented too much, and her shell snapped shut with a "click," clamping down on his finger.
"Even a rabbit bites when cornered." Nezha's fingertip pinched the clam's flesh, feeling the pink pearl that had grown larger.
Clams belonged to water, and loved to cry—they soaked his fingertip with tears. In a good mood, he rewarded the Clam Spirit with a new spirit pill.
Her tentacles hugged the pill and took a bite. The Clam Spirit's flesh curled up, wrinkled: "Bitter."
Nezha paid her no mind, focusing on sitting cross-legged, forming hand seals to practice his cultivation method.
The clam shell spat out the spirit pill, and her tentacles touched Nezha's fingertip: "Not eating."
Her tiny black eyes pleaded with him, looking utterly pitiful.
Nezha lifted his eyelids and said in a gentle tone: "Finish the pill and you'll get a lotus flower."
The Clam Spirit's flesh squirmed, hesitating for a long time, engaging in a full mental struggle before her tentacles curled around the pill and pulled it back. She nibbled very, very slowly—one bite, then a glance at him.
Nezha sat in meditation, his body white as jade, slender yet not frail. The Universe-Overturning Silk hung loosely over his arm, the red ribbon rippling in the wind.
When she finally finished the pill, Nezha tossed her a lotus flower. Shuanglian hurriedly embraced it, taking big bites of the petals to drive away the bitterness in her mouth.
But the pill Nezha had given her was Taiyi Zhenren's finest-grade spirit pill—the bitterness lingered for a long time.
After more than ten hours, Nezha shifted from meditation to lying on his side. Shuanglian's mouth was so bitter that even the fragrance of the lotus couldn't suppress it.
The only thing more fragrant than the Celestial Pool's lotus flowers was the Third Prince lying on the couch.
Shuanglian slipped down from his arm. Nezha was asleep, eyes closed, the Universe-Overturning Silk draped over his waist and abdomen.
Nezha's dharma form manifested three heads and six arms, making clothes cumbersome. Besides, he had never liked wearing clothes since childhood. At night, Nezha only wore a pair of shorts or lantern pants. When he wore more, he'd put on something like a half-skirt over them—Shuanglian couldn't name it, only thought it was loose, beautiful, and antique in style.
Then he'd lie casually on the bed and sleep until he woke naturally.
Shuanglian had figured out his habits. When asleep, he was relaxed. Even if she stole lotus flowers, he wouldn't wake.
Shuanglian extended her tentacles to touch his fingertips, and Nezha still didn't wake.
Growing bolder, she quietly crawled onto his body. The pearl was growing, and her appetite was growing too. The midnight snacks Nezha gave were all spirit pills, which Shuanglian found unpalatable. Boldly, she set her sights on him instead.
Dawn light was faint. When Nezha opened his eyes, he groggily reached for his chest—the Clam Spirit wasn't there.
Nezha frowned and propped himself up, long hair scattering over his shoulders. Looking down, the pinkish-white clam shell was lying on his lower abdomen. The shell was open, and tentacles were slowly nibbling at his abdominal muscles.
The Clam Spirit had been focused on her nibbling, afraid of hurting Nezha, so she only dared to rub gently with her tentacles. When Nezha moved, the clam shell rolled between his pants legs, not daring to move at all.
Nezha grabbed it in his palm. Just awake, his voice was hoarse: "Causing trouble?"
The Clam Spirit closed her shell tightly, her voice muffled: "I… my mouth is bitter, and I'm hungry again… I couldn't help it… I'm sor—"
Thinking Nezha would fly into a rage, Shuanglian cried pitifully, tears like clear water spilling over his hand, dripping down with soft patters.
Who would have thought Nezha merely gave a light hum instead. The Third Prince was in a good mood and didn't punish her.
Nezha placed the Clam Spirit into the Celestial Pool and practiced his morning drills. He trained by the lotus pond for two or three hours, the Universe-Overturning Silk dancing through the air, the Fire-Tipped Spear like a fire serpent flicking its tongue.
The killing aura during training was even deeper, his gaze blazing—beautiful enough to shake one's soul. Shuanglian, meanwhile, drifted through her days in a daze, surfacing to steal glances.
Suddenly, he spun around, and the Fire-Tipped Spear left his hand, thrusting straight at Shuanglian. The clam shell shut tight in fright, but Nezha's hand gripped the spear, its tip stopping three inches before the shell.
"How pretty am I?"
The Clam Spirit, feeling guilty, sank silently into the water.
Nezha stripped off his soaked clothes and soaked himself in the lotus pool.
Rarely patient, Nezha fished out the pearl and infused it with Spiritual Power to nurture it. The pearl greedily absorbed the Spiritual Power. Then he pried open the clam shell—the red Spiritual Power that hadn't yet been absorbed coiled around the pearl, scalding the Clam Spirit into a startled cry.
"Third Prince… it's hot…"
"Hug it." Nezha stuffed it deep into the clam shell without argument. The Clam Spirit hugged the pearl, trembling all over, softening into mud.
The pearl had grown; her short tentacles couldn't wrap around it, and it rolled back into Nezha's palm.
"Pearl, pearl…" The Clam Spirit looked utterly pitiful, tentacles reaching out to search.
Nezha spread his palm: "Take it."
Shuanglian had no choice but to stretch her tentacles and hook the pearl from his fingertips. As she pulled it back, the pearl got stuck at the shell's opening—couldn't go in, couldn't come out.
Soaked wet, it gleamed with fullness. Only when Nezha gave it a poke did the pearl roll back into the clam shell.
Shuanglian immediately hid it away, her mantle flesh twisting around the pearl so it could never be taken out again. But that pearl had absorbed Nezha's Spiritual Power, saturated with his aura. Shuanglian always felt something odd about it and muttered: "Not letting you play with it anymore."
Nezha scolded, "Biting the hand that feeds you," and flicked the clam shell back into the water with his fingertip.
Over there, Shuanglian surfaced. The pearl had fully absorbed the Spiritual Power, returning to normal size and radiating warmth.
The clam shell trembled, and Shuanglian discovered the wonder, delighted: "Warm, so comfortable."
"Then let it nurture a while longer." Nezha's fingertip sent in a wisp of Spiritual Power. This time he reduced the amount, the Spiritual Power slowly coiling around the pearl.
After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Nezha withdrew his fingertip, but Shuanglian's tentacles wrapped around it, refusing to let go.
The Clam Spirit wheedled: "Just a little more—my cultivation will rise."
Nezha: "How fast you change your face."
He played with the mantle flesh with his fingers for a while, teasing the Clam Spirit until she was whimpering. Satisfied inside, Nezha finally offered a wisp of Spiritual Power.
When the nurturing ended, the Clam Spirit comfortably opened her shell, floating on the water's surface, breathing evenly, half-asleep. The pearl had also been well tended, its color deeper.
Nezha's old habit flared up again—he couldn't stand seeing things too comfortable. His finger hooked the pearl. The Clam Spirit startled awake, her tentacles pushing at Nezha's finger. He let go, and the pearl rolled back.
She hurriedly searched for the pearl, but it had rolled too deep. Without enough strength, she not only failed to find it but pushed it even deeper.
Shuanglian panicked: "Nezha, Third Prince! I can't reach my pearl!"
Nezha lazily watched the flustered Clam Spirit: "Can't reach it? Get a new one. Can't you produce another?"
Clam Spirits at the bottom of the sea would sell pearls to other demons in exchange for treasures and money. But Shuanglian's body was naturally poor in talent—she could only form pearls thanks to heavenly materials and earthly treasures.
Shuanglian scrambled for the pearl, tentacles flailing: "No, this is my Life-Bond Pearl, the pearl the Third Prince nurtured."
Nezha went "Oh": "The one I nurtured smells better? Won't you let me play with it? This lord doesn't care for it anyway."
Her tentacles squeezed Nezha's fingertip, coaxing: "You can play with it. Third Prince is a good person—help me nurture my pearl."
Nezha's fingertip hooked the pearl out from deep within. "Here you go."
Shuanglian happily hugged the pearl, her shell opening and closing as she swam back to the deep water to nurture it, when suddenly she was grabbed.
Nezha asked casually: "You really think I'm good?"
The shell opened and closed, mimicking a nod.
Nezha's expression didn't change at all—unreadable. He turned and practiced with his spear.