When Su Yingli got back to the villa, she lay down on the sofa and nearly fell asleep.
The General Affairs Office had practically scheduled her afternoon guidance sessions to make sure she got her money’s worth. Even she, a former corporate drudge, was impressed!
She dragged herself through washing up, then flopped onto the wide, soft bed and passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.
That night, she dreamed again.
This time, the dream left her baffled.
She dreamed that she had safely climbed out of the archaeological excavation pit. Somehow, after winding this way and that, she ended up in a mysterious cave.
The cave was pitch-dark, but the moment she stepped inside, the candles lit on their own, illuminating the paintings on both walls.
The murals all depicted the same scene.
It was a somewhat damaged painting of a Vermilion Bird. Its bold, powerful lines were painted all over in vermilion. A crest rose from its head; its neck curved, its eyes shone, and it held its beak open with its chest thrust out, wings spread and tail lifted.
It glowed with divine light, so vivid and lifelike it seemed alive.
Su Yingli stared into its eyes. Gradually, she forgot where she was. Her thoughts grew muddled, yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
As she watched, a blaze suddenly flared in the Vermilion Bird’s bright eyes—brilliant and scorching. The heat made Su Yingli squeeze her eyes shut.
When the flames faded and she opened her eyes again, she found that the scene around her had changed.
She was standing in the garden of her little villa.
The Vermilion Bird had taken physical form. It flew in from outside her garden gate again and again, but each time it seemed to hit an invisible wall. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t get inside.
Several vermilion feathers had been knocked loose, but it kept flying into the barrier.
Su Yingli hurt all over just watching it. “Stop crashing into it! I’ll open the gate for you!”
If it couldn’t break in from the air, why not just come through the front gate?
At the sound of her voice, the Vermilion Bird flapped its wings excitedly, its tail feathers trailing a streak of golden-red flame through the air.
Even through the wall, she could feel the heat rolling off its body.
Its eager enthusiasm didn’t suit its imposing appearance at all.
Su Yingli went over and opened the gate.
The Vermilion Bird let out a long cry to the sky, and its tail feathers snapped open. The flames flickering at their tips trembled as it flapped its wings and made to rush into her arms.
Su Yingli hurriedly backed away.
Good grief, was it trying to cremate her on the spot?!
When she dodged, a plaintive look appeared in the Vermilion Bird’s narrow, flame-bright eyes. It stubbornly kept trying to burrow into her arms.
Su Yingli was terrified. She wanted to dodge, but couldn’t. A blinding light filled her vision, as if she were staring straight at the sun, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
The next second, a clear, ringing chirp pierced the sky and reverberated in her mind.
Su Yingli shuddered and drowsily opened her eyes.
Bright daylight flooded the room.
She’d forgotten to close the window last night. A breeze stirred the gauzy curtains, and a somewhat glaring shaft of sunlight fell across her.
Su Yingli squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes.
“Jiujiu…”
A familiar birdcall suddenly came from outside the window.
That call, that rhythm…
Why did it sound exactly like the clingy little Vermilion Bird from her dream?
She threw back the covers, puzzled, and went to the window to pull open the curtains.
A tree stood in the garden below. On its highest branch perched a round, fluffy little ball.
The feathers on its head and wings were a soft pink, while its belly was as soft and white as a cloud. Two rosy blush spots dotted its cheeks.
It was so tiny that she could easily cup it in her hands.
The little fluffball hadn’t noticed Su Yingli watching it.
Its glossy black bead-like eyes were full of innocent curiosity. It tilted its head as if pondering something. Perhaps it was thinking too hard: its tiny feet slipped on the branch, and it nearly fell. It hurriedly kicked its feet back and forth, flapped its wings, and flew back up—dazed and adorable.
Su Yingli: …
Why did it seem like this little one wasn’t very bright?
When Su Yingli came to the window, the little chubby bird’s bead-like eyes flew wide open. Jiujiu flapped its wings and flew over.
It landed on the windowsill, primly tucked its little feet together, and blinked at her.
Then it bashfully lowered its head and inched closer to her, thinking it was being sneaky.
“Jiujiu… Jiujiu…”
They were ordinary bird calls, but Su Yingli felt as if she could understand what it was thinking.
“Do you want me to pet you?” she asked uncertainly.
“Jiujiu!”
Jiujiu flew straight into Su Yingli’s hand, practically rubbing its head against her palm of its own accord.
Its feathers were soft, like the down of a newly hatched chick, and lovely to touch.
Su Yingli rubbed Jiujiu’s head, and its eyes narrowed with pleasure.
“Come on, cutie. Where did you come from?”
By now, she had learned a lot more about this world. She knew there were no wild animals in the Danger Zone. There was no way a defenseless baby bird like this could survive there, let alone make it through layer upon layer of electromagnetic shields and into her villa.
Seeing Su Yingli’s serious expression, Jiujiu nervously pulled its wings tight against its body, and its chirps grew quieter.
“Chirp…”
Su Yingli could actually hear a hint of hurt in it.
At the same time, her mental power stirred faintly, slowly falling into resonance with the emotional fluctuations she sensed from Jiujiu.
Her eyes widened in surprise. She reached out one finger and poked the dazed little bird.
“Little one, say a few more things!” she said, a little excited.
Jiujiu didn’t understand, but obediently did as she asked.
It raised its round head and chirped brightly.
As it called, Su Yingli sensed a round little figure slowly appearing in the empty mental landscape, emerging from Huazhou Qilin.
Su Yingli was ecstatic!
She tamped down her excitement and, with a trembling hand, stroked Jiujiu under its chin. The little one shivered contentedly, fluffing its feathers.
In her mental landscape, Jiujiu perched on the grassy meadow and contentedly narrowed its eyes, too.
That was it!
Jiujiu was her spirit!!
She didn’t have time to wonder why her spirit was a dazed little bird. Su Yingli hugged Jiujiu and excitedly kissed and cuddled it until it was completely bewildered and its soft down stood on end.
But it was her own little one. She wasn’t going to complain.
Jiujiu was only dazed for a few seconds.
Once it came to, it nuzzled into her arms, rubbing its fluffy head against the hollow of her shoulder.
Su Yingli hugged Jiujiu and didn’t want to let go.
She’d finally gotten a spirit of her own. She had no idea whether it had even a tenth of the Thornwing Butterfly’s abilities, or whether she could bluff her way through the interrogation with it. But having one was better than having none. She couldn’t let it disappear without warning again!
But the saying proved true.
She hadn’t held Jiujiu for long before it seemed to run out of battery. It sat listlessly in her palm, its bead-like eyes dull, its head bobbing.
“Little one, what’s wrong?”
“Food… hungry…”
The little chubby bird’s soft voice was barely a whisper.
Su Yingli froze, then quickly asked, “What do you want to eat?”
She’d never heard of spirits needing to eat!
“Mm… Sentinel… mental power…”
It wanted to eat a Sentinel’s mental power?
No way. That was way too brutal!
Su Yingli was about to ask more, but the little chubby bird gave a faint chirp and turned transparent before disappearing.
In her mental landscape, the trees of Huazhou Qilin were empty once more.
Su Yingli was dumbfounded.
Seriously, what was this?!