“This is so extravagant,” Shangtian breathed. I agreed, eyeing the crystal dishes of snacks hanging from bushes like ornaments. The entire place seemed to be dedicated to luxury and delight. We stopped on the side of large white jade steps leading up to a grand palace. Ride animals roared as they landed and took off constantly. Groups of gods and goddesses flew up and down the steps, carrying piles of bamboo scrolls.
“Golden Gated Cloud Palace,” I read aloud the placard on the building.
“This is the most sacred place in all of Shenjie, where his majesty Emperor Jadeite resides. These ministers and officials are heading to the Hall of Miraculous Mist to submit reports,” Barette explained.
It was a bad place to stand. Shenjie etiquette required that we courtesy to any god ranked higher than us. I watched as gods, in robes bearing fewer insignia, bow to those to those with more. Most of the gods ignored our group, but some stopped in front of us expectantly. Pretty soon, we were also dropping to our knees so often that it must have seemed like we were frogs.
“We – should – move – away –” Barette instructed in between bows. We all followed her.
Safely under the shade of a decorative hill, we panted. The courtyard of the Golden Gated Cloud Palace extended for many li. Along its sides were shops swarming with beautifully dressed deities.
“This is my fault. I thought everyone would be at the Baishi Ceremony already,” Barette said as she wiped her forehead. “Usually, a million gods pass through here everyday.”
One million gods translated to one million curtsies in my head. To save our knees, we decided to follow the chief road to the ceremony location but walk behind the assortment of rockwork, trees, and flowers that lined the courtyard.
We moved as quickly and quietly as we could. The sun was directly overhead, slightly dissipating the mist that rose from the clouds. I could see gods in every direction. It was only dawning on me how many gods must there be in Shenjie. How was I ever going to find my god?
The street running down the center of the courtyard was jammed with carriages, palanquins, ride animals, and instruments that flew.
“The ceremony isn’t far from here, but we can’t fly directly there. Clouds are banned in this area, or everyone would be constantly wet from so much cloud vapor,” Barette explained.
We passed behind a group of fairies surrounding an elderly god inside a pavilion.
“Skin brightening ointment for two milliliters of chi, preposterous!” One fairy whined.
“It’s a new recipe bound to erase those freckles of yours,” the god promised.
I decided that the first thing I would buy, as soon as I had more chi, was some freckle cream.
“Is everyone so beautiful because of these creams?” I asked. There were quite a few beauties in Shenjie. Some were even as pretty as me.
“They are beautiful because of filters,” Barette replied. She flicked her fingers and instantly, a transparent shield appeared in front of her face. Her eyes sparkled, her nose shrunk, and her lips pouted. A rosy tint developed on her cheeks.
“See? They are an ubiquitous beautifying tool in Shenjie,” Barette explained. “Some god once developed an eyepiece that allowed him to see through filters, but you should see what goddesses did to him.”
Shangtian laughed.
I was more interested in the finger flick. Every person here seemed to be able to flick a finger and make things happen. As soon as I had more chi, I was going to start flicking.
“And here is the Hall of Glorious Offering,” Barette announced.
We had arrived at a grand building with red walls. Its golden tiles shimmered in the sunlight. Guarding the entrance were two –
“Taotie,” Barette said. “They eat and eat but never defecate because they lack you know what.”
I marveled at the fat creatures, but figured it was indecent to try to look at their buttholes, or lack thereof. Barette led us up the exquisitely carved ramp.
“We have a bit of time before the ceremony begins,” Barette explained. “I want you to see this!”
At the entrance, a man greeted us.
“Welcome to the Hall of Glorious Offering.” He curtsied to Barette. His attire was simpler than those of other gods that I had seen. I was about to curtesy when Barette pulled me up.
“No need, he is a just page, the equivalent of fairies,” Barette dismissed.
The page lowered his eyes when he heard this.
I gave a quick bow anyway, but it set Barette off.
“Court rites define proper conduct and transcend mere politeness—”
I arranged my face into what I hoped was an attentive expression and allowed her words to slip through my brain. After Barette drilled in my head that bowing wrongly would lead to cosmic disaster, we entered an open building with a veranda running along the four sides. By open, I meant no roof or floor. Hundreds of fairies and pages sat on the clouds, where the floor was supposed to be. Magpies flew in a line through gaps in the clouds, bringing all sorts of food. Mechanically, the workers unloaded plates of meat, vegetables, fruits, and pastries from the backs of magpies, who then flew away through the open roof.
“A box of abalone for his lordship, Guardian of the South!” The fairy announced, taking a few abalones out before putting that box into a pile.
“A gourd of Green Bamboo Wine for Yuanshi Tianzun, Master Forseer.” Another fairy poured some of the content into a cup before placing the gourd into another pile.
“These are all offerings from the mortals,” Barette explained. “The Hall of Glorious Offering taxes the offering for general Shenjie use, the remainder of which is sent to the individual gods that the offerings are for.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
My mouth salivated at the sight of so much food. A pink figure flounced by us. Sylvestris stopped in front of a particular large pile and dug her hands into it. She grabbed what appeared to be all the pastries that she could hold and stuffed them into her mouth. When she couldn’t eat, she tossed.
“Sylvestris, you shouldn’t waste,” Barette said.
“These are mortal offerings to my father; I can do whatever I want with it.” With a smug look at us, Sylvestris continued taking one bite and throwing away the rest.
“Someday, our names will be so respectable in the mortal world that our pile will be twice as big,” Shangtian said through clenched teeth after Sylvestris passed.
“We shall help stinky tofu makers so that we get huge offerings of stinky tofu in which we will bury her,” I added.
We left the Hall of Glorious Offering for its sister building, Hall of Glorious Blessing. The Hall of Glorious Blessing was a cylindrical structure with a conical roof of blue, glazed tiles spiraling into the sky. When we all entered, the door slammed shut. For a moment, I thought I had gone blind.
“Why is it so dark?” I asked.
“Only in darkness can you see incense.” Barette responded.
When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw wisps of smoke floating around us.
“—The incense arise from the prayers of mortals. Workers here review and select the prayers for processing by individual gods,” Barette was explaining.
I remembered during the incense on the altars that the villagers used to pray to gods. So that was where the smoke went.
The fairies here worked in teams of three. One spun the smoke into a substance like cotton candy. Another then stuffed them in little vials. The third labeled the vials and sorted them.
“Here, let’s see what these say,” Barette said as she grabbed wisps of smoke that failed the selection process. It floated through her head, a quite jarring sight. “Ha, this lady wishes to live for another ten years, and this person wants to be the richest man in town, nope and nope.”
She released the wisps of smoke, which drifted to the ceiling and disappeared.
“Why can’t these wishes be fulfilled?” Shangtian asked.
“Gods only intervene in mortal affairs when there has been severe injustice,” Barette replied.
“Like when a yaoguai kills innocent mortals?” I suddenly asked.
“That qualifies,” Barette said.
My pulse quickened.
“Whom would that go to?” I asked.
“Any of the warrior gods,” Barette said.
I fell silent for more than a moment.
“Are there more than one?” I finally asked.
“Hundreds of thousands I believe. We do have armies you know,” Yu answered.
My heart sank. He could be any of those warriors, and I didn’t even know his name. I had naively imagined that I would come to Shenjie and be able to find him. Now I knew that Shenjie was like a giant town… no, city… no, a giant country! Finding him would be akin to looking for a needle in a haystack.
My despondency persisted until we reached a place called Courtyard of Terrestrial Descent.
“And my personal favorite,” Barette exclaimed, “the happiest place in Shenjie.”
I looked up.
The Courtyard of Terrestrial Descent was built strangely, like one of those fishing decks that village women squatted on to wash laundry in the river. This “deck” was shaped like a flower, and instead of water underneath, it opened up to clouds. There were many gods here, but thankfully no one took notice of us. Their eyes were on the god standing on the side of the deck.
“See you in 3 months!” He called, waving to those around him.
All he received in return were glares of envy.
“Can’t believe his luck,” a goddess said.
“Got an excellent life too! He will be a mortal emperor, have loving marriage, filial children, successful reign, and live to 99 years of age,” her companion replied.
“Say no more!” The goddess cried, twisting her handkerchief into a rope.
I tapped Barette. But Barette’s eyes were glued to the god on the deck. He was now stepping onto the shimmering clouds… and passing through them! We were told that in Shenjie, the clouds were firm enough to support the weight of deities. Apparently here, it was different. I watched the clouds swallow up the god and waited for Barette to clarify.
It was a little while before Barette recovered from her excited state.
“The Courtyard of Terrestrial Descent is one of the official gateways to the mortal world,” Barette said. “When gods descend through the hole, they are reborn as a mortal temporarily—”
Shangtian and I looked at each other and knew we were thinking the same. Gods wanted to be mortals?
“—It’s not fair,” Barette continued resentfully. “We all want to experience mortal habits and emotions, but they only allow nine hundred ninety-nine ‘recreational descents’ a day. I’m willing to do almost anything to go.”
Then I understood. Our reality, to them, was like a play where they could take on roles and discard them when the mortal’s life ended. After all, a day in Shenjie equaled a year in the mortal world.
A few stalls had arisen around the Courtyard of Terrestrial Descent to take advantage of the situation.
“Can’t go to the mortal world for passionate affairs? Settle for an immersive virtual reality!” The stall owner called. “Modeled after the mortal life of Tian Peng Yuan Shuai aka God of Eight Restraints aka Lord Pigsy…”
“Romance of the West Chamber! The sizzling affair of a gifted scholar and a beautiful lady, now straight from the mouth of a character herself! That’s right, I’ve secured exclusive rights with Goddess Hong Niang, who was reincarnated as the matchmaker in the story. Now with an extended chapter on their wedding night!”
I watched as the stall owners collected chi from eager goddesses, with Barette being one of them, and remembered the old saying: the grass was greener on the other side.
Barette, with her new scroll, then led us to an orchard of peach trees. Fat peaches, small peaches, pink peaches, and green peaches grew on the branches. More marshals guarded this orchard than the gate.
“—And this is the Garden of Immortality,” Barette said. “So Ziyan, what else do mortals do for fun?”
I was about to share my favorite activities of fighting crickets and climbing trees, when Shangtian answered.
“The mortal world can’t compare to Shenjie, it’s perfect here,” Shangtian sighed.
“I suppose,” Barette replied, “but things are always the same here. The mortal world is so exciting and strange! I’ve heard—”
“Hmph,” someone remarked. It was Sylvestris again. She had separated from us at the Courtyard of Terrestrial Descent and, unfortunately, found her way back again. “I know what the mortal world is like.”
“No you don’t. You haven’t been down there either,” Barette countered.
“I don’t need to. My father’s statues are everywhere in the mortal world. I’ve looked through his statues plenty of times. Mortals are dirty, smelly, inferior—”
I narrowed my eyes. Born into the ease of heavenly life, dependent on the status of her parents, she owed everything to the offerings of mortals. Yet she looked down on them? There was a term for people like her: parasite.
I turned away to tune out the rest of her words when I saw a god wearing a blindfold around his eyes. He was talking and laughing with a goddess next to him.
“Is he blind?” I asked in surprise. I didn’t know that gods were ailed with illnesses.
“Oh no,” Barette replied. She had succeeded in silencing Sylvestris. “That’s the God of Imprudence. A long time ago, during a heated argument with his wife, the Goddess of Fury, that’s her next to him, he said that he never wanted to see her face again. They made up less than an incense of time later, but ever since, he wears a blindfold in her presence. A promise is a promise.”
“How ridiculous,” Shangtian breathed.
“I know!” Barette said sadly. “He should’ve said he never wanted to hear her voice again. I’d much rather be deaf than blind.”
“Er, that’s not what I meant—what’s wrong, Ziyan?” Shangtian asked as I touched my eyes.
“My eyes suddenly hurt,” I replied. “Must be from rolling them too much at Sylvestris.”
I continued to follow the group while rubbing my eyes, but soon ran into something.
Squinting through blurred vision, I saw a goddess standing directly in front of me. There was no way out of a curtsy. I placed one leg behind the other and bowed.
Laughter broke out around me.
Shangtian hurried over and whispered, “That’s a statue.”
Sylvestris had doubled over. I could hear her hortling with laughter as she walked away.
“She thinks she is better than everyone else all because her dad is now in the Top Echelon,” Barette said to me apologetically. “Making fun of yao and Xian… she seems to have forgotten that her father was a tortoise yao once upon a time. Let’s go too. It’s about time for the ceremony.”