The Powerful Official Is My Wish-Granting God

The wish-granting god in my life is very reliable. When I was a child, I saved a bloodied young man on the back hill of Qingji Temple. I gave him half a piece of osmanthus pastry and casually said, “If you survive, you can be my wish-granting god from now on.” He answered seriously, “All right.” Later, the boy disappeared. But from then on, every wish I made came true. I didn’t want to kneel as punishment, and that very night my aunt was too busy to bother with me. I didn’t want to marry the wastrel from the Zhao family, and the next day the Court of Judicial Review began investigating them. I wanted to open a cosmetics shop, and the former shopkeeper came to me of his own accord, offering to help again. Everyone said I was lucky. Until the night the Sui’an shop caught fire, when Pei Xingzhi, a powerful minister who held sway over the court, burst in and carried me out of the flames. He was cold and merciless, yet whenever I ran into trouble, he always happened to appear “on his way.” He didn’t like sweets, yet he kept buying osmanthus pastries from Yun’s shop. He was a powerful minister feared by everyone, yet his expression darkened when Shen Zhiheng invited me to see the lanterns. Later, I found an old notebook in Pei Xingzhi’s study. It recorded every wish I’d made over the years. “Wen Suining wished not to marry Zhao the Third. Done.” “Wen Suining wished to eat osmanthus pastries from Yun’s shop. Bought.” “Wen Suining wished that if Shen Zhiheng was sincere, he would come see her tomorrow. Not stopped. Deeply displeased.” I held the notebook and asked him, “So all these years, it wasn’t a god answering my wishes. It was you?” Pei Xingzhi looked at me, the corners of his eyes red. “Wen Suining, you said I was your wish-granting god.” “I took you seriously.”