My Path to Immortality with a Blade of Grass - Chapter 6

07

Reassured at last, I coiled around little Immortal Grass again and poked his seed head with the tip of my tail.

He didn’t mind. He immediately rubbed his seed head against my tail instead.

“But I checked over and over when I first came into the garden. You were definitely the only one here who had gained awareness!”

“That’s because I’m the only one who’s spent the past few hundred years growing in this spiritually rich garden,” he explained. “Most of the others were newly transplanted here shortly before the old immortal went to heaven. Of course they hadn’t gained awareness yet.”

“And that rotten old man swore up and down before he left about how incredibly precious the lingzhi was!” I said indignantly.

“Silly.” Little Immortal Grass laughed and patted my head with his seed head.

It didn’t hurt at all, but the tickle went from the top of my head all the way into my heart.

“Do you really think he wanted you to guard the lingzhi?” he asked.

I nodded honestly.

He chuckled, stroked my head with his seed head, and went on.

“Not at all! He’s been alone in this world for so long. Finally, sparring with you gave him a way to fend off the loneliness. Buying chickens in heaven, tricking you into staying in his garden—it was all because he was afraid you’d stop coming once he ran out of chickens. He just wanted you to stay.”

Warmth filled my heart. It made me happier than eating an enormous flock of chickens.

So I mattered that much to the old grouch!

Old immortal, this snake would never bad-mouth you again!

“Am I a very stupid little snake?” I pouted miserably, afraid my clever little Lingzhi would think less of me.

“A tiny bit.” Little Immortal Grass swayed to demonstrate just how tiny. “But you’re adorably stupid.”

I kept telling myself: snakes cannot blush!

Could someone please explain, then, why my face still felt hot?

The old immortal returned.

At the sight of the wrecked garden and the empty lingzhi hole, he looked utterly heartbroken.

“Oh, you little snake! I asked you to watch my garden. How did you let it end up like this?”

I felt a little guilty. But with little Immortal Grass beside me, I slapped my tail against the ground and demanded with entirely unjustified confidence:

“So when are you going to help me take human form and become a spirit?”

My shamelessness almost made the old immortal laugh.

“The contract said that if you took good care of my lingzhi, I’d help you take human form. Where’s the lingzhi now? Why should I help you?”

I glanced at little Immortal Grass, swelling with pride in him, and lifted my head.

“Read the contract yourself! I said I’d ‘guard your lingzhi for three days,’ not ‘guarantee your lingzhi stays safe’!”

The old immortal looked up at the sky. After a long pause, he came back to himself and helplessly tapped my head with his pipe.

“You little rascal.”

I knew the Heavenly Dao had accepted my interpretation.

“No wonder human companies put their contracts through legal departments. This is what I get for being uneducated!” He sighed. “With little scoundrels like you, you can’t leave a single loophole!”

I didn’t understand what he meant, but I was fairly sure he wasn’t complimenting me.

So, when he wasn’t looking, I lashed my tail at the cage of chicks and knocked it over, sending them scattering in terror.

The old immortal spent ages scrambling awkwardly after them before getting them all back into the cage.

“Hmph! Weren’t you the one who cheated first? You turned the three days I agreed to into three years!” I pouted. “And I did my best. Forget the lingzhi—even I got captured! I nearly ended up as snake soup!”

At that, he forgot all about the chicks and hurried over. He lifted me in his hands and carefully checked me for injuries.

I gave his finger a gentle bite. He didn’t get angry. Once he’d made sure I was unharmed, he only smiled fondly.

Embarrassed, I rubbed my head against his chin.

The old immortal said there would be a total lunar eclipse in three months. Yin energy would be at its strongest then—the ideal time for creatures like us to become spirits.

“But…” The irritable little old man grew unusually serious. “You’re only getting this chance to transform because you exploited a loophole in the Heavenly Dao. The Dao values fairness. It may well make things difficult for you during your transformation. You must be prepared.”

I wasn’t concerned.

While I waited to transform, I still visited little Immortal Grass every day.

I also bullied the chicks, of course. Just a little lick. I absolutely did not swallow.

And I liked talking to the parrot. After all, he was the only person in the world who knew I was in love with little Immortal Grass.

He nearly laughed himself out of a tree when he heard I’d spent years guarding the wrong lingzhi. But he still enthusiastically helped me make plans.

“When I was among humans, I saw men and women give flowers to express their feelings to the people they loved. Why don’t you try it?”

Flowers?

I thought back to all those carefree years roaming the wild. The flowers of Kunlun had always bloomed so brilliantly.

As bright and colorful as my feelings for little Immortal Grass.

Who could have guessed that when I brought him over a hundred flowers, painstakingly picked and chosen with my tail, he’d keep shrinking away in terror?

I was hurt.

Did he despise my feelings that much?

But I was the prettiest little snake on Mount Kunlun.

Seeing my distress, he hesitantly leaned toward me and stroked my head with his seed head.

“Y-you’ve brought me so many corpses of my own kind,” he asked, his voice trembling. “What are you planning to do to me?”

That useless parrot had ruined everything!