Ch 22: My Multiverse Supermarket

Zhao Changyan used an old kerosene lamp to knock on the gates of the Celestial Masters Institute.

Most of the witches in the Institute held official ranks within Great Yue’s government. The leader among them was Fan Yuxian, Envoy of the Jade Purity Palace.

The Jade Purity Palace was said to be the heavenly residence of the Celestial Emperor.

Of course, Great Yue had no Celestial Emperor—but it did have a witch who claimed to be his messenger, descended to the mortal world: Fan Yuxian.

The emperor, believing her, ordered a palace to be built in her honor and named it the Jade Purity Palace.

Fan Yuxian held her government post by day, handling state affairs at the Institute, and at night she returned to her palace to play the role of the Celestial Emperor’s possessed vessel.

When the gate guard delivered the so-called “Celestial Lamp,” Fan Yuxian had been scornful and annoyed.

She had declared to all that she was possessed by the Jade Emperor himself—yet someone now claimed to come from Yongcheng, the celestial city of goddesses? That was a direct challenge to her divine authority.

But once she saw the lamp, her thoughts changed. She decided to meet this supposed emissary and uncover her origins.

Before long, an intoxicating fragrance wafted in from outside.

Fan Yuxian’s mind wavered. A moment later, she saw a young woman approaching gracefully.

The fragrance seemed to emanate from the girl herself.

Fan Yuxian’s eyes widened. The scent was unlike any perfume or sachet she knew. The girl wore no ornaments or perfume balls—meaning the fragrance came naturally from her.

Could she truly be a celestial envoy?

A verse suddenly surfaced in Fan Yuxian’s mind:

“Veiled in kudzu, screened by orchids,
Anchored with white jade, perfumed with stones of lan.
Thatch of angelica, rafters of lotus;
Halls filled with herbs, and gates fragrant with spice.”

It was a poem from Chu describing Consort Xiang—the goddess whose abode was filled with sweet herbs that could be smelled from afar.

The thought made Fan Yuxian grow more solemn.

Zhao Changyan, bearing herself with calm dignity, saluted her neither humbly nor arrogantly.

Fan Yuxian dismissed all attendants and guards, then said bluntly, “Who are you really? Why do you impersonate a celestial envoy?”

Zhao Changyan smiled faintly. “I am no impostor, nor have I come to deceive you. I came to help you—to strengthen your position.”

Fan Yuxian looked her up and down. “You? With what ability? That lamp of yours?”

Zhao Changyan took out a delicate calligraphy pen, removed its cap, and said, “This is a divine brush. It can write without ink.”

Fan Yuxian accepted it skeptically and drew a line across the paper.

To her astonishment, a dark stroke appeared.

The tip was fine—capable of writing tiny, precise characters.

Then Zhao Changyan took out a scroll and a clean writing brush.

“May I borrow a little water?” she asked.

She dipped the brush in water, unrolled the scroll, and began to write.

As she moved her hand, bold, flowing characters appeared across the cloth.

Fan Yuxian stared in disbelief.

The “divine brush” could at least have held hidden ink, but the white bristles of this brush were still white—and yet words appeared on the fabric!

“How did you do that?” she demanded.

Zhao Changyan said calmly, “This is the Celestial Script.”

In truth, it was a reusable water-writing cloth that, according to the “goddess,” was meant for practicing calligraphy. It required no ink—just water—and the writing would fade over time.

Next, Zhao Changyan produced a pencil and an eraser, demonstrating how one could erase words and reuse the same paper.

She suggested that such tools were perfect for transmitting secret messages—no need to burn them after reading; simply erase.

And the water-writing cloth, she added, was ideal for reinforcing the mystique of divine power—useful for, well, “religious credibility.”

She had even found a type of “invisible ink” in the supermarket that revealed writing when exposed to water—but she chose not to show that yet.

In a realm where cunning thrived on imperial foolishness, one must always keep a trump card.

Fan Yuxian was already wavering.

Then Zhao Changyan revealed her greatest trump card yet—a wall clock.

In the 21st century, even though most people used phones, rural supermarkets still sold clocks and alarm clocks for older customers.

They weren’t fancy, but all ran on batteries.

Zhao Changyan, familiar with sundials, wasn’t bewildered by the idea of a timepiece, but she was curious about its movement.

When she had asked Zhou Li, the “goddess” merely said it wasn’t her field—she couldn’t explain how the clock worked, only that it measured time precisely to the second.

Zhao Changyan said to Fan Yuxian, “One day in heaven is a year on earth. The goddess, wishing to keep track of mortal time, created this divine instrument resembling a sundial. It is called a clock—an immortal’s device to tell the hours.”

“It moves!” Fan Yuxian gasped, staring at the sweeping second hand.

Zhao Changyan explained, “This thin hand turns sixty times to complete one cycle—one minute. When the minute hand makes a full circle, half an earthly hour has passed; the short hand shows the current time.”

A sundial divided the day into twelve hours—each hour with only four quarters—and could never be that precise.

Fan Yuxian was convinced. She immediately decided to ally with Zhao Changyan and confirm her identity as the Jade Emperor’s envoy.

*

With Fan Yuxian’s full endorsement, the Emperor of Great Yue summoned Zhao Changyan to court and appointed her Deputy Envoy of the Jade Purity Palace.

He also ordered her to bring the goddess to the capital.

Zhao Changyan replied that the goddess avoided mortal entanglements and would not enter the world.

She could not be summoned, but one could visit her mountain dwelling to seek divine artifacts.

The emperor agreed.

Shao Chenshu, Director of the Office of Proclamations and the Imperial Household, distrusted this outsider and sent his trusted lady attendant, Court Aide Gong Qiongxian, to accompany Zhao Changyan “in assistance.”

He also requested troops to escort them—permission granted.

Zhao Changyan had already delayed too long in Prince Xing Prefecture. Knowing that the goddess occasionally vanished, she feared arriving too late and losing credibility.

So she ordered a forced march—traveling day and night.

By dusk, they reached Yizhang County.

Gong Qiongxian assumed they would stay the night at the posthouse, but after a short rest, Zhao Changyan ordered the journey to continue.

It was already dark, and the mountain roads were treacherous. The soldiers began to complain.

Zhao Changyan pulled out a flashlight. “I have a celestial lamp to light our path. What is there to fear? The goddess never waits. If we fail to meet her, we return empty-handed. But if we do—she may share divine delicacies unknown to mortals!”

Her promise lit a fire of curiosity among the soldiers, who followed eagerly through the night.

They finally reached the path trampled by refugees and entered the mountain settlement.

The Chu-Yue refugees were startled awake by the commotion.

Having just survived a bandit raid, they feared another attack and dared not step outside.

Only a few brave souls peeked out—and one of them recognized her.

“You’re… Chang Qiniang!?” he cried.

The familiar name reassured everyone.

If it was Chang Qiniang, then surely there was no danger.

Doors creaked open one by one.

Zhao Changyan asked, “Is the goddess still here?”

If Zhou Li ever intended to leave, she would have told the refugees first—so if they said she was still there, it must be true.

“She’s here,” they replied.

Zhao Changyan exhaled in relief.

Just then, Xian Sanniang pushed through the crowd. “Qiniang, you’re back!”

Zhao Changyan dismounted and approached her.

Seeing her fine clothes and the soldiers behind her, Xian Sanniang didn’t even ask how she’d become so important—she just blurted out, “You came at the right time! The village caught some bandits. We don’t know what to do with them.”

Zhao Changyan’s expression hardened. “Bandits? Were they after the goddess?”

“It’s a long story,” said Xian Sanniang. “But don’t worry—the goddess has already punished them.”

Zhao Changyan relaxed.

She had witnessed the goddess’s power herself—no mortal could harm her.

Behind her, Gong Qiongxian observed the village by torchlight.

Though simple, it was organized—a settlement clearly built by people fleeing taxes and labor conscription.

In the past, she would have ordered them all returned to their hometowns. But now was not the time.

Zhao Changyan didn’t forget her presence. “We’ll rest here tonight and visit the goddess tomorrow morning.”

Gong Qiongxian frowned. “Didn’t you say the goddess never waits for anyone?”

They had rushed here without stopping—why slow down now?

Zhao Changyan said smoothly, “The goddess may return to Yongcheng at any time, but before leaving, she ensures her people are cared for. Since she is still here, we can meet her tomorrow. Everyone is dusty and tired. We cannot face the goddess in such a state. We’ll wash and change first.”

Gong Qiongxian had no objection.

Zhao Changyan borrowed tarps from the refugees and set up temporary tents for her soldiers.

The refugees dared not refuse, only hoping she’d return the materials afterward out of old acquaintance.

…

At dawn, Zhao Changyan rose early.

Having declared they must bathe before meeting the goddess, she would not contradict her own words.

There was a stream nearby; she ordered water to be fetched for washing, changed into clean clothes, and sprayed perfume.

The noise woke Gong Qiongxian, who, remembering her duty to uphold imperial dignity, followed her example—though lacking perfume, she wore a sachet of dried herbs instead.

By then, the mountain villagers were already up—drawing water, working, and preparing to head up the mountain for trade.

The Yue soldiers wanted to block the path, but Zhao Changyan stopped them.

“The goddess dislikes such behavior. If you offend her, how will you explain yourselves to the emperor?”

Before seeing the goddess, Gong Qiongxian dared not contradict Zhao Changyan.

At her nod, the soldiers obeyed.

[Author’s Note]

Note: The poem quoted is from Qu Yuan’s Lady of Xiang.

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