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Song Jinxiu leaned against the bodhi tree, her fingers gently tracing its rough bark. Yet to her, it felt soft and warm, as if she were stroking the head of a little girl, seven or eight years old.
“Is this my second life in the cycle of reincarnation?” she asked.
“No, Master. This is your tenth reincarnation,” Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord replied.
Song Jinxiu frowned. “But I only remember my previous life.”
Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord frowned as well. “Before reincarnating, Master forced a divination. It provoked backlash from the Heavenly Dao. Your soul was damaged. In eight of your reincarnations, you were… a fool.”
Naturally, a fool would have no memories.
Song Jinxiu nodded, then asked, “So it seems that in my ninth reincarnation—my previous life—my soul was restored?”
Treasure-Seeking Mouse gave a quick nod, then suddenly grinned slyly. “Because I dug out my own inner core and gave it to you! Who would’ve thought that after receiving my inner core, not only did your soul fully recover, but it even awakened the Golden Eyes divine ability from your very first life. Isn’t that amazing?”
Watching Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord hop around in delight, Song Jinxiu’s eyes finally welled up with tears.
“H-Hey, Master, why are you crying?”
Song Jinxiu suddenly pulled it into a tight hug and gave it a rough, heartfelt rub.
“Foolish Junjun, didn’t it hurt to dig out your inner core?”
“It didn’t hurt. Before you reincarnated, Master said that the tenth life would be a turning point. If you could live it out peacefully and die of old age, then you’d be able to enter the Underworld, cross Yin Mountain, pass the Boundary Bridge, and return to the cultivation realm to seek justice and revenge.”
Song Jinxiu sighed. She had no memories of that life, and thus no intense hatred. But dying of old age—that was non-negotiable.
“What else did she say?”
“She said, if you ever asked, then there were only eight words: ‘Let good fortune follow the heart, ask not of the future.’”
Follow the heart, move as the heart desires, do good without questioning the outcome—was that what it meant?
“Alright, I’ll remember that.” Song Jinxiu gently stroked the bodhi tree and asked, “Can Baoya understand what we’re saying?”
Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord shook his head sadly, then nodded again.
“She used up almost all of her Wood Spirit Dew to open this space. Now, the amount of spirit dew she can produce is becoming less and less…”
So the Bodhi Spirit Dew was actually the essence of Baoya’s lifeblood?
Song Jinxiu felt a pang of guilt as she recalled having used the Spirit Dew to temper her meridians.
Sensing her emotions, the bodhi tree swayed gently, its branches brushing tenderly against her cheek.
Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord quickly said, “Secreting Spirit Dew is her instinct—you don’t need to carry this burden in your heart. However…”
As he spoke, he suddenly let out a huff. “Hmph! You dummy. All you ever do is grow those useless mortal flowers. They’re of no help to Baoya at all!”
Song Jinxiu immediately asked, “I can help her? How?”
“Baoya needs to continuously release Spirit Dew to maintain this space,” Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord explained. “But if there are enough spiritual herbs and medicines inside, the vitality they emit can help sustain the space. That way, Baoya can conserve more Spirit Dew and use it to advance. Once that happens, she’ll be able to cultivate again.”
As he spoke, he glanced at the few ginseng plants nearby. “While there aren’t any top-grade spiritual treasures here, even ordinary medicinal herbs are a hundred times better than the useless mortal flowers you’ve been growing.”
Song Jinxiu glanced awkwardly at the ginseng. How would she have known any of this? In her previous life, she’d never worried about money—she just did whatever made her happy.
She rubbed her face and muttered, “Then why didn’t you remind me?”
Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord rolled his eyes in a very humanlike gesture. “I gave up my inner core and was unconscious for a long time. Even after I woke up, I couldn’t speak. So how was I supposed to remind you?”
Thinking of how it had just been coughing earlier, Song Jinxiu asked with concern, “Are you really better now?”
“Yes, much better!” Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord beamed. “It was Baoya who nurtured me in the heart of the tree, using her Spirit Dew to heal me. That’s how I recovered from my injuries. Don’t worry, Master—so long as I focus on cultivating, it’s only a matter of time before I grow another inner core.”
“Good Junjun,” Song Jinxiu said softly. “Even though I don’t remember how we first met, I know that you’re here—with me.”
She placed a hand over her heart and vowed, “Rest assured, I will live out this life to its natural end. Then we’ll return together—to right every wrong and settle every score.”
The girl and the mouse wandered around the space, discussing which medicinal herbs would best help Baoya. Perhaps, if fate allowed, Lingling might one day have the chance to be reborn as well.
“I’ll go take a look at the Li family’s medical hall, see if they have any medicinal herb seeds. I’ll buy some and start planting them first,” Song Jinxiu said.
“Why bother going so far when there’s an easier option nearby? Right behind where you’re living now is a whole mountain range. With me around, do you really think we’ll have trouble finding good stuff?”
“You’re right—after all, you are the Treasure-Seeking Mouse! Very well then, Little Junjun, let this young lady see what you’re truly capable of.”
Without delay, Song Jinxiu exited the space.
She gave her Big Brother a quick greeting, saying she was off to check on the progress of the house construction.
“Go on,” he replied. “Jinfang and Qiusheng went over too—just in time to call them back early.”
After leaving the Lizheng’s house, Song Jinxiu didn’t head east toward the new house but instead went straight north to the back street, taking a shortcut to Daqing Mountain.
At the foot of the mountain to the north of the village stood a grove of willow trees. These had originally been planted by the villagers to prevent landslides and keep wild animals from straying into the village.
The year the willow stakes were planted, there had been abundant rainfall. The stakes took root and sprouted. Under the Lizheng’s direction, the newly grown willow branches were woven and intertwined. Over the decades, they formed a living wall of trees—a natural barrier and the village’s best line of defense.
Song Jinxiu cut some willow branches and tossed them into her space. As she walked, her hands moved deftly. Before long, a mini-sized woven basket was skillfully completed.
She lined the little basket with a soft towel, then brought Little Junjun out from the space and gently placed him inside.
The poor thing was still frail and occasionally coughed—Song Jinxiu couldn’t bear to make him follow her through the mountains on foot.
Seeing how happy he looked, her mood lifted as well. “Do you like it?”
Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord lay contentedly on the towel. The space inside the basket was just right—no matter how he lay, he wouldn’t bump his head, and if he stood up, only his head would peek out.
“Master, your hands are amazing. I love this little home.”
Song Jinxiu chuckled. “As long as you like it.”
She slung the basket across her chest. “If you spot something, point the way for me.”
“There is—right inside the willow grove,” said Little Junjun.
“Huh? You’ve already found something?” Song Jinxiu was intrigued. This was the edge of the mountain, and villagers often came here to set traps for pheasants. If there were really something valuable, wouldn’t it have been discovered long ago?
Half-doubting, half-believing, Song Jinxiu ducked beneath the low-hanging branches and stepped into the shaded grove.
Following Junjun’s direction, she spotted a withered willow tree. Twining thickly around it was a lush growth of mistletoe.
Song Jinxiu recognized it immediately—she had once collected mulberry mistletoe alongside her Shixiong.
It was a type of parasitic plant: when it grew on mulberry trees, it was called mulberry mistletoe; on willows, it became willow mistletoe.
But this particular willow mistletoe was unusually aggressive—it had directly drained the host willow tree to death.
Song Jinxiu asked, “Should I transplant the dead willow into the space, or just cut off the mistletoe?”
“What dead willow? What mistletoe? Why would we want that thing? It’s no use to the space at all,” Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord replied, utterly confused.
Song Jinxiu blinked. “Huh?”
“You weren’t talking about this mistletoe? But it’s a medicinal herb,” she explained. “Shixiong said it nourishes the liver and kidneys, strengthens the tendons and bones, dispels wind and dampness, and can even help calm a pregnancy.”
“It can treat soreness in the lower back and knees, rheumatic pain, restless fetus, and even bleeding from pregnancy complications. What? You didn’t know that?”
“It’s just a common medicinal herb. Not every herb is useful for the space,” Treasure-Seeking Mouse Lord replied. “Move aside. What I’m looking for is buried beneath this dead tree.”
He jumped out of the basket, and with his front paws, began furiously digging at the ground.
“No, no, stop—let me do it,” Song Jinxiu said quickly.
Seeing the little creature panting heavily after just a moment, she hurriedly pulled out her dagger to help dig.