On West Street in the Human World, Yun Qing looked at the young and old staring at him as though he were a performing monkey and could not help sighing softly.
He raised his hand, and supreme immortal power swept through West Street like a spring breeze entering an alley.
Broken roof beams flew back into place, shattered bricks and stones gathered piece by piece, the overturned Wonton Stall stood upright again, and the collapsed half-wall of the smithy rebuilt itself in a wash of faint, clear light.
And, of course, there was A Little Shop. Its door panels fitted themselves back into place, its broken bolt pieced itself together, and even the little pot of wild chrysanthemums Ye Hui had carried outside that morning to bask in the sun returned to the corner of the counter.
The little shop was properly open for business again.
In less than half the time it took to drink a cup of tea, West Street had regained its original appearance.
The flagstones were spotless, the shops on either side stood neat and orderly, the furnace still burned in Blacksmith Zhao's smithy, and white steam still rose from the hot broth at Liu Niang's Wonton Stall.
It was as though nothing had happened.
Except for Shopkeeper Yun standing in the middle of the street with his hands behind his back, and an entire street of dumbstruck neighbors.
Old Sun clambered up from the foot of the wall, brushed the dust off his backside, and looked at his perfectly intact candy shop. His throat worked for a long while, but he could not squeeze out a word.
"Um, well... Senior?"
The corner of Yun Qing's mouth twitched, and he sighed. "I'm not that old."
Old Sun readily adjusted. "Great Immortal Yun!"
"...Just call me Shopkeeper,