Shuanglian burrowed into the mud to nurture its pearl, thinking to itself that the little demon lord had a strange temper—praise didn't please him at all.
Days at Yunlou Palace passed uneventfully. Shuanglian had nothing to do—swimming in the lotus pond, nibbling on lotus flowers, and gnawing on Nezha. Though the immortal aura was rich, even the finest delicacies grew tiresome after too much indulgence.
When Nezha rolled up his spear and headed out the door, Shuanglian cracked open its shell, its little black eyes watching.
It wanted to go to the mortal world too.
Nezha ignored it. He wrapped the Universe-Overturning Silk around himself, stepped onto the Wind and Fire Wheels, and flew off to slay demons.
When he returned, Shuanglian was sulking, buried in the mud. Nezha had changed into a set of bright red immortal robes—top and skirt—with the Universe-Overturning Silk wound around his wrist. He reached into the lotus pond, felt around, and fished out the soaking-wet Clam Spirit.
Nezha rode the wind, and the breeze blew into the clam shell. The clam flesh wrinkled, and Shuanglian couldn't keep its eyes open against the wind. It turned and burrowed into the wide folds of Nezha's robe. "Third Prince Nezha, where are you taking me?"
"The mortal world." Nezha held it against his chest, feeling its tentacles waggle excitedly as it clutched his robes. "Third Prince is a great kind person."
It was evening, and the night market was bustling. The streets blazed with lantern light, vendors' cries and laughter filled the air, children played, and the aromas of all kinds of food mingled together.
Nezha landed on his feet, retracted the Wind and Fire Wheels, and wove through the crowd. He looked like some young master from a formidable family that shouldn't be trifled with—those with sharp eyes instinctively made way for him.
Returning to the mortal world stirred no emotion in him. He was indeed a Celestial Dragon with impunity—Spirit Pearl, born into the world bearing the Killing Tribulation, killing without guilt, earning immortal rank in return. Rules and order applied only to others, never to him.
Facing the mortal world's hustle and bustle, Nezha felt small. Mortals and he were not of the same world.
The Clam Spirit in his chest was beside itself with excitement. It wanted sugar figurines, golden roasted sweet potatoes, sugar cakes and steamed buns, sizzling fried dumplings from the oil pot—even steaming hot baozi. Sweet, spicy—it wanted to try everything.
Nezha walked to the sugar figurine stall. The vendor was drawing a dragon on a stone slab with sugar syrup. Nezha said to him, "I want a lotus flower, and a clam."
"Coming right up, young sir, just a moment." The vendor ladled out syrup and painted—a lotus with layered petals was done. Nezha took the bamboo stick of the lotus sugar figurine.
The vendor used the remaining syrup to draw a short, round scallop. The scallop's lines were simple, finished in two or three strokes. Nezha held it in his hand, thinking it was far uglier than the Clam Spirit.
His chest and hands were stuffed full of things. Nezha leaped onto a rooftop eave, found a spot, and sat down. He pulled Shuanglian out from his robes and laid out the food one by one in front of it.
"Eat."
Shuanglian's eyes went dizzy with the sight. It clutched the lotus sugar figurine, and its tentacles took a bite of the lotus. The sugar slowly melted in its mouth.
The scallop sugar figurine in Nezha's hand was small—he swallowed it in two or three bites. The sugar left a taste in his mouth, and Nezha's eyes watched the clam spirit opening and closing its shell. He felt the scallop just now had been missing something.
The lotus body could barely taste anything—only a faint trace of sweetness lingered on his lips and teeth. Yet Nezha's appetite had been stirred. The sweetness teased his teeth, and he stuffed something into his mouth.
There was plenty left for Shuanglian to eat, but Nezha picked up a bowl of sweet tofu pudding. The vendor had added flower honey—one look and it was sweet enough to rot your teeth.
The tofu pudding slipped into his mouth, smooth and gone. Nezha took one bite and set down the spoon. No—the flavor wasn't enough. It had only sweetness, missing something.
Nezha ate without enjoyment, but the Clam Spirit ate with relish. It bit into a baozi, burned its tentacles, and decided it wasn't good. Then it turned its attention to the sweet tofu pudding.
A bowl white as jade, holding tofu pudding white as jade, osmanthus honey wafting a delicate fragrance—it lured the tentacles to sneak into the bowl and curl up a bit of the pudding.
Nezha's eyes were sharp. "With all this food, you're stealing my sweet tofu pudding?"
The clam shell swallowed the pudding in one gulp. "Third Prince doesn't like it. I'll eat it."
Nezha picked up the tofu pudding and sent spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. "I'm eating it."
The Clam Spirit: "!"
Watching the pudding dwindle bit by bit, its tentacles quickly curled up half a spoonful and delivered it into the shell.
With the Clam Spirit fighting him over the bowl of sweets, Nezha suddenly found the food far more delicious. One spoonful for himself, one spoonful offered to the Clam Spirit. Shuanglian, afraid he'd change his mind, swallowed in a frantic rush, not even tasting it.
The two of them—one spoonful snatched, one spoonful yielded—shared a bowl of sweet tofu pudding. Nezha scooped up the last spoonful and tilted his head. The tentacles wound around his wrist, but the Clam Spirit couldn't grab it.
Nezha teased it a moment, then offered the last half-spoon to the clam shell. Shuanglian curled the pudding away in a triumphant pose—though in truth, the bowl of pudding was too sweet, and it didn't really like sweet tofu pudding that much. It just had to win.
It had long since grown tired of eating, its belly full of cloying sweetness. But it had to fight for that breath of pride, dancing its tentacles in celebration. Nezha watched the smug Clam Spirit, the sweetness in his stomach nagging at him, teasing his craving.
The Clam Spirit was thoroughly stuffed. Its tentacles kneaded its pearl. It lay limp, shell cracked open to breathe, utterly unaware.
Nezha watched. He watched with growing focus, a hint of seriousness surfacing. His eyes fixed on it, waiting, holding back.
The night was deep, the mortal world's hustle and bustle trampled beneath his feet, a bright moon behind him. Nezha leaned forward, his crimson pupils faintly glowing in the moonlit night.
Shuanglian grew drowsy and yawned. "Third Prince, I'm sleepy."
Nezha moved closer still, his eyes now a breath away. The gap in the clam shell showed only his handsome, narrow eyes—now slightly widened, gloom and excitement laid bare. "Is clam spirit meat delicious?"
Shuanglian was so frightened that she closed her clam shell. "Sour."
Nezha snapped back to reality and straightened up. Of course he knew that Clam Spirits couldn't be eaten—he wasn't the kind of demon that devoured people or other spirits, and he would never do such a thing.
But he felt hungry, his throat tightening, the root of his tongue going dry—a hunger that made him want to swallow the whole thing whole.
Seeing her fear, the Clam Spirit trembled, and that hunger grew more and more pronounced. "Hunger" was less fitting than "malice"—the kind of malice that ran rampant without restraint, grabbing and bullying, locking someone in a naughty child's cage, poking at the clam shell to play with the pearls inside, showing her what happened when she talked back or challenged him.
If he truly shed the skin of the "Great Divine of the Three Altars and Seas" and reverted to the wildness of the god of slaughter from Chentang Pass, he could deal with her without restraint. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, so the fire in his heart couldn't be pressed down nor rise up, smoldering and stuck in his chest.
Nezha grabbed the Clam Spirit and tucked her into his chest. "We're going back."
Back at Yunlou Palace, the Clam Spirit had already fallen asleep. Her shell opened and closed as she breathed, and Nezha awkwardly turned his face away.
In the days that followed, the gloom in Nezha's heart didn't dissipate. Whenever he had free time, he would go to the mortal world and bring back some new trinkets to Yunlou Palace.
Shuanglian listened to Nezha's tales of the outside world while eating sugar cakes. When she heard that Sun Wukong had been pinned under Five Elements Mountain, Shuanglian paused for a moment, then continued eating.
Nezha didn't say much himself. He lowered his head, leaning close to the Clam Spirit on the table. "Is it good?"
"It's good."
Nezha said, "Let me have a taste."
Shuanglian had been raised extremely well—her cultivation had improved, and her magical power grew deeper and deeper. She used her magic to wrap around a sugar cake and offered it to him.
He opened his mouth and bit down. The sugar cake melted as it entered his mouth, leaving only the Clam Spirit's own sweet and briny taste.
Nezha said, "More."