Tricked 121: Mayfly

As the last word slipped from Yu Renwan’s lips, the park’s broadcast system suddenly crackled with static.

A moment later, the crisp sound of birdsong covered the interference.

A palm-sized little swallow flew in from afar. After gliding in a spiral across the sky, it slowly landed on the bench before everyone.

“Although the sixth question hasn’t even started, your answer was correct.”

Its voice sounded like a four- or five-year-old girl—soft and childish, the endings of phrases instinctively drawn out, the articulation not quite clear.

“You’re all so fast at answering. Does this count as buzzing in ahead of time, I wonder?”

The little swallow cocked its head, watching everyone, waiting for them to respond.

Everyone was momentarily stunned, thrown by its graciously negotiative manner, but Jiang Yan quickly refuted it.

“Of course not,” she replied.

The swallow tapped its tiny claws, circled the bench twice, and finally, disappointed, stopped walking. “Alright then.”

“You’ve won, so I guess I’m finished.”

With that, it chirped several times up at the sky. The next second, the broadcast announced that question six was beginning.

Yu Renwan repeated her answer from before: “‘Pinocchio.’”

Perhaps in response, the broadcast played a cheerful song. The little swallow gamely clapped its wings. “Even though I’m a goner, congratulations!”

“I must be really dumb. I thought the questions were impossibly hard!”

【No, no, you’re not dumb at all.】

【No one in the live stream got it right just now, so you’re definitely not dumb, OK?】

【By the way, does anyone else think this little swallow seems… really innocent?】

【Agreed above. I thought all these yao were supposed to be fierce and bloodthirsty…】

【Surely there are good and bad yao. Not everything in the old texts is reliable.】

【True, I’ve heard that spirit monsters transformed from nature—mountains, rivers, grasses, trees—are pure of heart and simple-minded. The swallow seems that sort.】

【Waaah, Sister Yan and the others can finally leave! I remember when I learned Sister Yan hadn’t seen cartoons, I felt like the sky was about to fall—waaah】

…

【Wait, everyone, stop. This little swallow seems off. Why does it seem clear-minded?】

【Eh??】

【What… What do you mean?】

【…Damn, right!! The guardian spirits aren’t supposed to regain self-awareness until after someone clears the stage. But just now, question six hadn’t even started; they answered correctly during the break between the fifth and sixth rounds. So even if they passed, it shouldn’t count as clearing the level yet… The bird being clear-minded now makes sense, but why was it lucid just before!?】

As the question was completed, all the railings in the animation section swung open, and dozens of animal mascots came rushing out. The prince and princess twirled in an embrace, a boy in a little top hat released all his balloons, and the cotton candy grandpa hung a “Closed” sign on his stall. The music fountains in the park burst into song, with uncountable colored bubbles bobbing through the sky.

All of it looked like a fairy tale.

Relief washed over everyone’s faces, though Jiang Yan’s expression remained unchanged as she lowered her gaze to the clear-eyed little bird.

After a moment, she reached her hand out to the swallow, who understood and hopped lightly into her palm.

“You were never influenced by turbid qi?” Jiang Yan asked.

The little bird pinched its claw, measuring out an ant’s width. “Just a little.”

It explained, “In my first life I was a Mayfly, you see. Lived nine lifetimes with those memories, nine destinies all crowded into my soul this round. Whichever destiny I liked, I let it take the lead. It was so much fun that I started switching which of the nine ran my soul every day. But who knew I messed up, and somehow my soul split into nine parts. None of them whole—only together are they complete.”

“After I died, the ninth was the first to turn corrupt and create the energy field. But I still had one, two, three… seven, eight left, all clean. They’ve been slowly getting tainted, sure, but they’re more than enough to keep little nine suppressed~”

The swallow’s lilting end note was unmistakable, the tone almost coquettish as it spoke.

Jiang Yan understood.

The condition for an energy field’s formation was when turbid qi filled a spiritual body to overflowing, causing it to emit turbid qi outward. But in the swallow’s case, there were nine incomplete spiritual bodies. It basically broke the rules: as soon as one fraction of its soul was saturated, the field formed.

But this kind of glitch ability was unique and impossible to replicate—no ordinary being could have multiple incomplete souls, nor would anyone else retain all their former lifetimes’ destinies at once.

Jiang Yan considered this, then thought of a second issue.

If the swallow had been self-aware the entire time, then admitting people into the field must have been intentional. Besides the six puppet children born from it, the energy field had also taken in a married couple and several college students—all of whom were now dead.

“What exactly was your selection criteria for who you let in?” Jiang Yan asked.

The bird was in good spirits, not the least impatient as it answered, hopping lively around.

“For criteria, well, first were the puppet children who could never be human again. Second, those who appeared near the abandoned park at 3 p.m. and had committed unforgivable crimes.”

“Unforgivable crimes?” Jiang Yan raised a brow.

“Mhm,” the swallow answered earnestly. “They were really awful.”

“That couple hit a child drunk driving twenty years ago. The kid wasn’t dead yet—they stopped to check, saw no cameras around, and got back in, dragging the child for more than ten minutes before fleeing.”

“The news reported that the child died horribly. The child’s grandpa suffered a heart attack at the scene.”

“And those college students—they were scum too. Right before graduation, they were interning at the same company. At a company dinner, they forced a girl to drink. On her way home, she fell in a river and drowned.”

“She might not have died if it weren’t for them. They saw her fall but did nothing. That girl was excellent, always praised by the mentor leading them. Human jealousy is terrifying—the desire to kill, too.”

“I’ve never bullied my kind. They’re nothing like me.”

Hearing this, Zhao Kepu, who’d just been celebrating, paused and looked over at the bird.

The little swallow went on cheerfully:

“All these things, Mama Ding told me.”

“After death, Mama Ding became her daughter’s guardian spirit and came in with Ding Fuya. She’s amazing—can see other people’s memories. If any villains entered the abandoned park, she’d tell me so I could pull them into the energy field.”

“But you’re an exception,” the swallow added, crossing its feet and awkwardly scratching its head with its claw. “Mama Ding said you guys were strong—if I didn’t catch you, others just like you would come, over and over, and eventually you’d break in anyway.”

“And…” The bird flapped its wings, some confusion flickering in its eyes.

Jiang Yan: “And what?”

“Mama Ding said what we were doing couldn’t last. Punishing the wicked is satisfying, but now we’re just… just butchers! That’s not good—someone ought to punish us.”

“And then you came,” the swallow chattered. “I’m going to be punished!”

This bird was like a brainless optimist—just a couple of minutes ago, it was dejected over their victory, but now it spoke with cheerful acceptance of its imminent dispersal.

“I’m brave. I’m not afraid.” It puffed out its chest.

The smiles faded from the psychics’ faces.

【It… It doesn’t seem to have done anything truly bad?】

【Seems that way…】

【This little spirit is so cute, and seems so young QAQ】

Jiang Yan watched the swallow bouncing about in her palm, thinking it was more like a tiny sparrow, or maybe a hyperactive one.

“I have another question,” she said.

The swallow magnanimously waved a wing. “Ask as much as you like!”

“Reincarnation through nine lives as a Mayfly is spoken of only in legend. What is it really like? And how did you choose those parents—why only grant them children?” Jiang Yan asked.

The swallow tilted its head in thought, then plopped down in her hand.

“Let me think…”

It showed a contemplative look, but in truth, hardly needed to. After less than two seconds, it lifted its claws. “This starts with how unlucky Mayflies are, and how lucky I am.”

“We are terribly unlucky.” The swallow declared.

“Though we drift long at the lake bottom, our only chance to see daylight is for a single day. Mayflies are the smallest yao in existence—no bigger than a fingernail, bright green—and only ever get one chance at a soul.”

“We wait quietly at the lakebed for the perfect moment to rise to the surface, seeking the meaning of life. Only by earning merit can we gain a soul and be eligible for reincarnation. But humans never see us, so how can we gain merit?”

“No Mayfly had ever gained a soul—yet we kept trying, again and again, never giving up.”

“I had no parents, nor siblings. The mud at the lakebed birthed me. It couldn’t speak; the Mayflies couldn’t either. Every day on the lake bottom was lonely, but I held to tradition, burying myself in mud, waiting for the day to surface.”

“That day finally came.” The swallow’s face grew wistful. “It was the Spring Equinox—the gentlest day of the year.”

Little Yu Renwan curiously raised her hand. “Why is the Spring Equinox the gentlest day?”

The swallow replied matter-of-factly, “Because it’s so warm! It was my first taste of sunlight, and sunlight is wonderful!”

Little Yu Renwan looked suddenly enlightened.

The swallow carried on: “That day was so happy. At dawn, I floated to the surface. First light shone on me, turning my young green into shining emerald. The dewdrops fell from the leaves, plopping onto my head. A little black fish came to eat me, bit my thin wings. I struggled desperately and finally escaped its mouth.”

“But of course, I didn’t hate that fish—my wings were useless anyway; I couldn’t fly. With or without them, I could still float across the lake. All morning I drifted from one shore to the other.”

“On the far side, I met an old couple.”

“Grandpa had lost a leg in the war; grandma was in poor health, too. They hobbled together to the lakeside. From their conversation, I learned their eldest son fell fifteen years before, the second ten years ago, and just two days ago, they received a letter saying their youngest was dead too.”

“They held a stack of letters, sitting by the water. Grandpa slowly read aloud, grandma listened intently. The letters spanned many years—messages from all three sons, talking about full bellies, good health. The youngest liked to write poems, all soldier’s verse, likely not very good; grandpa would laugh as he read, and grandma laughed with him.”

“I listened all afternoon. Other Mayflies drifted by to listen too,” the swallow said, emphasizing, “but I was the closest. I liked them best.”

“When the letters were done, they stared out over the lake.”

“I had nothing better to do, so I kept them company. The lake grass tickled me; the sun warmed me all over. I saw the old couple weeping, grandpa thumping his empty pant leg, saying he was just a burden. He wished they’d grown old together, surrounded by children, but now…he apologized to grandma, saying he’d never cried before, held it in the previous two times, but this was his last child—he couldn’t take it anymore.”

“As he spoke, he leaned on his cane and tried to step into the lake. Water soaked his pants. Grandma hurried to stop him, but he was stubborn, wouldn’t budge, scared off all the fish. Curious, I floated closer.”

“And—guess what happened next?”

Jiang Yan curved her lips teasingly, “Were you kicked away?”

“No! Grandma picked me up!” The swallow’s delight made its voice chirp clear.

“Grandma held me close, then at arm’s length, and finally decided I was a wingless Mayfly. She held me up to grandpa, said, ‘Even a wingless Mayfly can float free—how can you, sixty-plus, just give up?’”

Here, the bird couldn’t help remarking, “But it’s not the same! Winged or not, I can never fly, but grandpa really can’t run without a leg.”

“But grandpa didn’t walk further into the lake,” it continued.

“Grandma said there was a little girl in the village who’d lost her mother at birth. Her father died in the war not long ago, only a frail great-grandma left at home. The girl wasn’t even half-grown and was already tending the stove. Poor thing—if they went and asked, she would come live with them.”

“Grandma added that the girl’s father had been close friends with her youngest. He’d even held the child once. Now that all three sons had died for their country, she said, might as well be even more giving and raise the girl, earn some merit for the next life.”

“‘It gives us something to hold on to, after all,’” the swallow echoed grandma’s tone.

Everyone was rapt, quietly waiting for more. Little Jiang Yan, seeing no one else rushing the story, couldn’t help pressing, “And then?”

The swallow chirped twice, closed its eyes, and spun around; the happy memory sent it turning faster and faster in Jiang Yan’s palm until it grew dizzy and flopped down.

Its voice grew quieter, like sharing a secret:

“…And then I transcended.”

“After the old couple left, I waited quietly for sunset, but when the sun went down, I did not.”

“My spirit floated up.”

“I became the first Mayfly to earn merit. The first with a soul. I reincarnated, becoming a legend.”

The swallow counted off its reincarnations with a claw: “Second life, I was a dandelion. Year after year, sprouting anew, sending my fluffy seeds out on the wind, until one day a rabbit dug me up and ate me. I lived three whole years that time—long for me, I’d never dared imagine such a lifespan.”

“Third, I was a thistle in the desert. The rude wind and sand blew at my face for years. I finally lost patience, spat at them, but the wind just blew it all back at me. I couldn’t stand my own spit! But I lived six years then, so I forgave the wind and sand.”

“Fourth, a white dove. So unlucky—I was beautiful, clean, but war broke out and I became a carrier pigeon, back and forth with messages until I nearly dropped from exhaustion. If I hadn’t been so patriotic, I’d have quit long before. That time I lived seven years, then was killed by an arrow—damn those archers!”

“Fifth, I was a flower—a little blossom whose name I never learned. I was dazzling in the sun; snakes and bears all loved sleeping beside me and protecting me. In the end, a snake accidentally poisoned me, and though I didn’t blame it, it wept and wept by my withered petals.”

“Sixth, I was a pear tree. The village children loved to climb me. My pears were delicious—the county magistrate’s family, especially his daughter, loved them. I saw her born, grow up, marry, have children, then watched over her children, and their children, and their children’s children…”

“I lived over a hundred years then. At last, a locust plague ended me.”

“Seventh, I was a river,” the swallow said, sounding a bit weary, smacking its beak.

Little Jiang Yan, eager for story time, offered her cup. The bird happily pecked at the water, drank its fill, coughed a bit, and went on: “I became a river.”

“I never reached the sea, always flowed through the mountains. But I was important—three villages depended on me. Villagers brought cattle and sheep to drink, and children swam all summer—those little boys had no shame! I was a girl, you know. How dare they?”

“But I was a good-hearted river—several times I saved drowning children, and lifted them to shore.”

“Then came a drought. After three hundred years, I dried up.”

“After that came my eighth life—a mountain. I lived a thousand years, became a yao, but was too afraid to take human form. Too many people lived on my slopes—if I left, they’d lose their home.”

“In that life, I recognized two old people—so familiar. When they came to my mountain, already feeble, I realized they were grandpa and grandma from my first life. They grew old together on my hill, and I covered their bodies with autumn leaves.”

“I shouldn’t have waited for them to find me—I should have gone to seek them.”

“After 1,500 years, the mountain was developed, and I eagerly met my ninth life. I heard a voice in the sky ask—what do you wish to be now? I could choose for myself.”

“I thought for a long, long time. In the end, I decided to be a swallow,” the bird said, “because people say swallows bring good fortune to the families they nest in. I wanted to return to my benefactors, build a nest, and let all know they were good people.”

“So, did you nest at their house?” Jiang Yan asked.

The swallow nodded joyously. “Mm!”

“For Yangzhou, dad and mom were still married. I searched anxiously for them, but they didn’t drive me away. They stroked my feathers and let me nest under their eaves.”

Jiang Yan more or less grasped the rest.

The swallow noticed the couple longed for a child but remained childless, so it used its innate talent to bless them with one—Yangzhou.

But the truth was more complicated.

The swallow said, “They wanted a baby so much, but when I asked the voice in the sky, it said those two were fated to be childless—it couldn’t be forced.”

“A Mayfly in its ninth life can pick its innate power. As long as it’s not mastering time-space, anything goes—controlling wind and rain, weightlessness or freezing, even great powers left by ancient monsters in Classic of Mountains and Seas without heirs. I could choose any of them.”

“But I didn’t want power. I just wanted to give my benefactors their wish.”

“The voice said I was squandering the chance, but I persisted. I did get my gift—in the end, I could sense the longing of parents for children, and bestow a child on those who wished hardest. They’d bear a puppet, but it would seem human—having thoughts and feelings, able to be moved or hurt.”

“If the puppets sensed their parents’ love, they’d truly become human on their eighth birthday, gaining a soul. If not, they’d grow ever more puppet-like, and I’d have to take them back.”

At this, the once-cheerful swallow suddenly fell silent.

It hesitated, looked around, and slowly bowed its head.

After a while, it spoke, a little timidly: “Up till now, I’ve blessed thirteen people, and taken back six children.”

“I don’t understand humans.”