Chapter 26: Negotiation

By the shores of Feather God Lake, Quanshi fished with contentment and ease.

No one understood the joy of fishing more deeply than Quanshi, the merman.

Beside him, the Xuanbird lounged lazily in a pile of grass. For a creature such as the Xuanbird, its life should have ended long ago. Yet, whether by fate’s favor or the nourishing winds of the ancestral land, this Xuanbird had survived decades beyond its expected span and had never fallen.

After so many years, the Xuanbird had grown muddled and lethargic; though alive, it could only move about ceaselessly, dragging out its existence.

“The Feather Priest has arrived,” Quanshi said cheerfully, gazing at the two figures approaching from afar—one large, one small—and a peculiar glimmer flickered in his eyes.

He was surprised by the Feather Priest’s sudden visit. He did not know the reason for it.

Usually, the arrival of the Feather Priest was heralded by the Feather Clan’s guards, announced to all so that the priest might be properly welcomed. But today, the priest had come unannounced, bringing his successor with him—a departure from tradition that left Quanshi puzzled.

In recent years, Quanshi had been exceedingly discreet among the Feather Clan. The lifespan of the feather folk seldom exceeded one hundred and fifty years; the one who had brought him here, Feather Twenty-Nine, had long since died, his son was married with children, while Quanshi remained in the prime of youth, an anomaly almost too shocking to believe.

Thus, Quanshi rarely appeared in public now. Many young feather folk thought him dead; only the elders knew of his continued existence.

According to the natural order, Quanshi could live for another two hundred years. Even that little girl—Quanshi was confident he could outlast her.

“Quanshi,” called the Feather Priest, smiling broadly from a distance, the wrinkles on his face unfurling like a blooming chrysanthemum.

Beside him, the round-faced feather folk girl piped up brightly, “Quanshi Uncle!”

Quanshi looked at the little girl and nodded with a smile.

This girl had no name. Once, she had a name—perhaps it was Qing, meaning ‘clear skies after rain.’ But she was to become the second Feather Priest, and the Feather Priest bore no surname, so her name had been relinquished. Now, the feather folk simply called her ‘Little Priest.’

Gazing at this delicate, porcelain-like child, Quanshi could not help but sigh inwardly. The Feather Priest’s days were numbered, and this lovely girl would soon shoulder the clan’s destiny as the new priest. For one so young, it seemed an unbearably harsh fate.

The Feather Priest seemed to notice the fleeting pity in Quanshi’s eyes and chuckled softly. “Brother Quanshi, you’re still brimming with energy. I feel ashamed. A hundred years ago, when you first came to the ancestral land, we were both young and vigorous. Now, you remain unchanged, while I have grown old and frail, my days drawing to a close.”

Though the century had aged Quanshi somewhat, for the Feather Priest, the difference was stark.

There was envy, admiration, and even a hint of jealousy in the priest’s voice.

At a loss for words, Quanshi was about to comfort him when the Feather Priest patted the little girl’s shoulder and said, “Go play. I have matters to discuss with your Uncle Quanshi.”

The girl paused, surprised, then broke into a radiant smile and chirped like a nightingale, “Alright, thank you, Feather Priest! Uncle Quanshi, I’ll be off now!”

Previously, no matter the occasion, the Feather Priest kept her close by, making her listen to all matters of state and clan. She cared little for such affairs; her heart yearned for butterflies beyond the window, for green shoots and soaring birds.

She could not understand why other children her age could fly across the sky, race with birds, or catch fish in the lake, while she had to sit beside the priest, listening to elders atop high platforms, always alert to the priest’s scrutiny.

This was the first time the priest had spoken privately with an elder without requiring her presence.

The chance was precious; delighted, she dashed away.

Watching the child’s joy, the Feather Priest smiled, and Quanshi smiled as well.

Quanshi’s thoughts turned to his own two children. Back in the merman royal court, he had only cared about continuing his line; after marrying, he devoted himself to studying all things terrestrial.

It was, in a sense, abandoning wife and child.

When he left the royal court, his children were about her age.

Quanshi’s expression grew complex, and he sighed.

He had left the merman royal court one hundred and seventeen years ago.

He wondered what the royal court was like now; his thoughts drifted ever deeper, as if sinking to the ocean floor.

“Quanshi.”

The girl’s silhouette receded, and as he watched her go, the Feather Priest suddenly spoke, taking a deep breath and facing Quanshi with a blank expression. “It must have been difficult for you to stay here so long… In recognition of your service, I won’t make things hard for you. Tell me—how does the merman system work?”

The priest’s words stunned Quanshi. Instantly, his hair stood on end and he stared at the priest, eyes brimming with murderous intent.

The thing he had feared most had come to pass.

He had not heard the word “merman” in a hundred years.

…

The girl emerged from the lakeside cottage, her black wings unfurling as she skimmed across the water’s surface.

Fish swam beneath—their kind raised by the Feather Clan.

Unlike the desolate lands of a century past, the area around Feather God Lake had grown populous, thanks to the clan’s growth and Quanshi’s inventions. The lake had become the ancestral heartland’s inner lake.

The feather folk caught fish from other lakes and raised them here, inventing nets and other tools, entering a time of societal complexity.

There was fishing and hunting, nomadism, and farming.

These three divisions were based on the clan’s traits, and it made for an interesting society.

Yet the girl belonged to none of these groups.

She belonged to the ancestral land—as the Feather Priest.

After gliding low for a while around the lake, she settled on the shore, feeling a touch of boredom.

No matter what, it was impossible to play alone.

Children her age all had companions, but her status kept her friendless; no one dared approach her.

Those who did were elders of each division, city lords of Feather God City, or makers of the ancestral land.

All adults, older than her parents.

“Why are you sitting here all alone?”

Suddenly, a voice sounded in her ear. She turned toward it and saw, atop the hill, a person without wings.