Chapter Six — The Falling Star and the Phoenix Feather
The South Pavilion lay deep within the mountain's quiet heart, where the mist thickened and even time seemed reluctant to pass. Golden inscriptions crawled along the marble pillars, alive with faint spiritual rhythm — the lingering pulse of a thousand celestial decrees.
And within that silence, Xing Yue, the Falling Star God, arrived.
She wore a smile that didn't reach her eyes — one carved from exhaustion and too much thought. The faint silver gleam around her robes shimmered like dying starlight, making the air itself waver as she approached.
"Heard you told the elders you would be waiting for the heavens to come to you?" she said, her tone caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's bold."
Her gaze drifted to the pendant resting near Jiang Yunxian's hand — the same golden shard Elder Su, a name he had long since forgotten had left him. It pulsed softly, like the heartbeat of a sleeping god.
Rong Qi, his phoenix-feather companion, flickered beside him, hovering midair. The feather's flames burned faintly blue, rippling with impatience.
> "This companion of mine," Rong Qi said dryly, "has gone mad. I can't control him anymore."
Yunxian chuckled, leaning back against the old table.
> "What are you fussing about? The only thing I did was touch this beauty. How could a single touch — from my mere mortal hand — break what Heaven tried to seal? Isn't the Heaven too blind in its judgment?"
His words carried the lazy rhythm of a drunkard, yet every syllable struck like a hammer.
Xing Yue's eyes widened faintly. The pendant's pulse brightened, casting streaks of gold across her face.
> "You're stupid," Rong Qi muttered, flaring like a candle about to burst. "Truly stupid."
> "You haven't changed," Xing Yue said softly. "Still that unfiltered fool I once knew."
> "Eh?" Yunxian raised a brow in mock surprise. "Old lovers, then? You talk nonsense. Tell me — what did you do that Heaven wants porcelain dolls like you? Steal an ancient relic?"
He sighed, rummaging through the mess of scrolls on the table until he found his wine gourd — cracked at the neck and dry as bone. His face twisted in irritation. He glanced toward Rong Qi.
The feather shivered, muttered something about "being on it," and vanished through the window in a flash of scarlet light.
Xing Yue laughed — the sound soft but clear, echoing through the quiet room like wind chimes after a storm.
> "That bird feather truly is something else," she teased. "So scared of a scrunched nose and a squint?"
> "Yeah, terrified," Yunxian said dryly, examining the empty gourd. His eyes, dark as stormclouds, flicked toward her — toward the faint strands of white woven through her celestial robes.
"According to the legends," he murmured, "the Falling Star God was said to be a peerless beauty — Heaven's favored jewel, untouched by disaster. The ideal of every deity under the Thirty-Three Skies of the Immortal Domain."
He raised the gourd as though to toast the name.
> "Yet here you stand — dressed in white, cold as moon frost. Not quite what the legends promised."
Her expression sharpened.
"What are you implying, Yunxian?"
He set the gourd down. "Only that there are many heavens, and not all of them are honest."
He spoke with the faint rhythm of one reciting an old truth, his tone low and thoughtful.
"The Nine Empyrean Heavens rule over fate. The Azure Celestial Court governs destiny. The Heaven of the Golden Mandate binds law and judgment. The Crimson Zenith devours stars to sustain its power. And beyond them all…"
He looked at her with that faint, taunting smile.
"…there's a heaven that fears its own reflection — the Heaven of Fallen Oaths."
Each name hung in the air like scripture, heavy with authority.
Xing Yue tilted her head, her composure too calm to be natural.
"Are you hinting at something, Jiang Yunxian?"
He chuckled, rubbing his temple.
"Hinting? No. Just reminiscing. Though I do wonder… the Falling Star God was said to have night-blue hair — yet I see only white. And last I checked, the South Pavilion isn't exactly known for snow."
Her hand twitched slightly. For the first time, her poise faltered.
"All this investigating, all this questioning…" she said slowly, stepping closer until her shadow brushed against his boots. "What are you really implying?"
Yunxian's smile thinned.
"Who are you really, Xing Yue? And why are you impersonating the Star God?"
The pendant between them pulsed violently, golden light flaring across the walls. At that exact moment, Rong Qi burst through the window — a streak of red flame carrying a fresh gourd of wine in its feathers.
But neither of them looked his way.
The tension between them thickened, two divine currents colliding in silence — one from the past, one from the storm that Heaven had yet to send.
And somewhere in the mist outside, the wind whispered faintly, carrying an echo that wasn't mortal
"Careless immortal… you recognize the stars again."