"I'm not making mischief! Not at all."
Gao Yiye declared her innocence, but the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her.
Despite having spent the better part of a year revered as the Saintess, she remained a fifteen-year-old at heart—her playful nature undimmed.
San Shi'er's sense of foreboding grew. "What cheeky thing have you drawn that you must hide from the Tianzun? Let me be clear—if it's truly impertinent, my printing house won't touch it."
Gao Yiye pouted. "It's not really that cheeky. Well... maybe a little cheeky. But mostly it's proper!"
San Shi'er's guard went up. "Let me see it."
Giggling, Gao Yiye dashed to her room and returned clutching a thick stack of papers, each filled with drawings, numbered with Arabic numerals in the bottom corners.
San Shi'er took the first page and startled—this was clearly a drawing of Dao Xuan Tianzun!
Though he'd never seen the Tianzun's actual face, who didn't gaze upon his statue daily? The resemblance was unmistakable.
Outside the box, Li Daoxuan saw it too. That's my face! Though she's made me 32% handsomer and 3200% more majestic. Well, well—the little lass is having fun drawing me. Her skills have improved remarkably.
San Shi'er paled. "You... you're not being irreverent with the Tianzun, are you?"
Gao Yiye giggled. "Of course not! I'd never! It's a story about the Tianzun vanquishing demons and monsters!"
San Shi'er hurriedly flipped to the second page... the third...
Li Daoxuan watched alongside.
The story soon became clear—a classic demon-slaying tale, its framework not unlike those sung in Northern Shaanxi Daoqing operas. The girl possessed limited creative capacity, so she borrowed the worldview from operas she'd seen.
The plot: Dao Xuan Tianzun wanders the mortal realm, encountering a village terrorized by vicious bandits from a nearby mountain. The bandits raid, killing, burning, and stealing grain.
The Tianzun grows enraged—smack!—flattening one bandit into a pancake.
After dispensing celestial grain, he continues his journey.
But shortly after his departure, a fearsome monster arrives—its design suspiciously resembling a lobster-man from Ultraman!
The girl literally copied a lobster-man's appearance.
The lobster-man rampages, devouring villagers. With the Tianzun absent and doom looming, a Daoist priest appears—clearly modeled after Ma Tianzheng, identical in attire.
The priest battles the lobster-man with mystic arts but proves outmatched. His sword flies from his grasp; he faces being eaten.
Suddenly, the Tianzun returns! Employing celestial magic, his hand enlarges enormously—smack!—crushing the lobster-man flat.
The grateful priest kneels in worship.
Villagers joyfully emerge, extracting lobster meat to cook fragrant congee. They sing and dance around the pot, even drinking Wuliangye liquor.
The end.
The girl is practically a Level-4 Frankenstein! This little book stitches together the strangest elements.
Li Daoxuan nearly choked laughing.
After reading, San Shi'er's expression turned profoundly awkward. "This... this story..."
Gao Yiye: "What? Isn't it good?"
San Shi'er wiped sweat from his brow. "I can't tell if it's acceptable or not. It seems acceptable, yet something feels... off."
Gao Yiye: "So it's acceptable? Third Steward, please help! Have it printed!"
San Shi'er felt immense pressure. "It depicts the Tianzun. What if he dislikes it? I must... I must... seek his guidance."
Gao Yiye: "It's meant to be a surprise! If you ask him, it won't be surprising anymore."
"This..." San Shi'er hesitated. "What if it's not a pleasant surprise, but an angry one?"
Gao Yiye: "Impossible! The Tianzun would love this—it's about him doing good, slaying demons! How could he be angry?"
She pouted. "I didn't draw him as a bad deity."
San Shi'er pondered. True—though the plot stitches together chaos, it doesn't defame the Tianzun. The story is righteous enough. Very well, print a few copies. After all, the Saintess's request carries weight—in this village, the Saintess reigns supreme.
"Then... I'll have the block carvers carve the blocks..." San Shi'er conceded. "But understand—we won't print many. Just a few for your amusement. The carvers' wages won't come from the village treasury—you must pay. Paper and ink costs are also yours."
Gao Yiye grinned. "Fine! I have many things the Tianzun gave me. I'll just give some to the carvers as payment."
(In truth, the village treasury sat directly below her room. She could take anything unchallenged—yet aside from cotton for weaving cloth returned to the treasury, she never stole.)
San Shi'er's conditions served as subtle caution against excess. Though the Saintess reigned supreme, she remained a child needing adult guidance.
Beaming, Gao Yiye handed over the stack. "Don't damage them! This is my only copy."
San Shi'er nodded. "Every page bears the Tianzun's image. Who would dare damage them?"
Shaking his head, he descended the watchtower for the Craftsmen's Well.
The block carver and his apprentices sat idly carving characters for practice.
Recently, they'd grown rather bored. Having completed Hanyu Pinyin, Elementary Mathematics, Middle School Mathematics, The Yang Family Generals, and even Middle School Physics, they found themselves with nothing to do—idle days meant no extra wages, a minor frustration. They yearned for the Tianzun to produce something new for printing, but he'd been preoccupied with trains and Qingjian refugees, temporarily neglecting cultural endeavors.
Thus they practiced carving characters to maintain their skills.
San Shi'er approached, presenting the thick stack. "Work has arrived. Carve this. The Saintess will pay your wages."
The carvers gathered, examining the pages—then startled. "A... a story about the Tianzun slaying demons?"
Seeing their expressions of awe, reverence, and worshipful readiness, San Shi'er wondered: Should I tell them this is the Saintess's playful mischief?
Better not.
San Shi'er declared: "Indeed. This book shall be titled 'The Dao Xuan Tianzun Demon-Slaying Chronicles.'"
The carvers and apprentices received the stack with pious care. "Third Steward, rest assured—we'll dedicate our very lives to carving this story flawlessly."
Li Daoxuan smiled. Have fun with it.
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[Cultural & Historical Context]
Gao Yiye's "picture-story book" (小人书) taps into a Ming literary tradition: woodblock-printed vernacular stories blending religious themes with popular entertainment. These cheap booklets—often priced at just a few coppers—circulated widely among semi-literate populations, making religious narratives accessible beyond elite scriptural texts.
Her use of "Ultraman lobster-man" reflects a timeless creative phenomenon: artists borrowing visual elements from contemporary media. In the 1630s, this might mean a woodcarver modeling a demon on a Tibetan thangka painting or Portuguese engraving they'd glimpsed—cultural cross-pollination through trade routes.
The carvers' reverence highlights how religious imagery operated in Ming society. Depicting deities wasn't mere illustration but an act of devotion requiring ritual purity. Carvers often fasted or purified before working on religious texts, believing careless craftsmanship invited supernatural misfortune.
San Shi'er's concern about "angering the Tianzun" mirrors real Ming censorship dynamics. While popular religious prints flourished, authorities periodically cracked down on "heterodox" or "disrespectful" depictions. A county magistrate could order prints burned and carvers punished if depictions were deemed impious—a risk even in Gao Village's celestial-protected bubble.