Cao Pi sighs long. "If these forest spirits are even half as capricious as the mystics I know," he says wryly, "then we may never know the reason." And a hearty fuck you from the afterlife, gods.

He lifts his head to nod at Rosinante once more and continues on at last, going to see what other sorts of trouble he can make. Now that he knows what leaving his poems at the shrines means, he's going to be far more careful about whose to explore. No more getting intrigued by dragon statues.