Silver Phoenix

12

The jagged peak towered over them, obscuring half the sky. Ai Ling’s shoulders dropped in exhaustion when they finally arrived at its base. At least a path had been worn for them by the many travelers who made this trek before. They huddled in the shade of the rocks to take a midday meal. She sank to the ground and wished she could do anything else but climb this hill.

They rested for only a short while. Ai Ling rose to her feet with reluctance and drank another swallow of cool water from her flask.

They hiked in silence. Even Li Rong was quiet, the sweat trickling down his face. It was early afternoon when they reached the summit and saw what lay beyond—a vast sea rose, expanding within a heartbeat to surround them, until the endless water merged with the skyline. Ai Ling gasped. She turned to look back at the path from which they had come, but there was no path, no mountain. Only the piece of jutting rock they stood on and the sea that engulfed them. In the distance was the vague shape of land, an island perhaps, shrouded in mist.

“The heavens have mercy,” Li Rong said under his breath.

“We’re trapped,” she said.

“We’re hundreds of leagues from the sea.” Chen Yong drew his sword from its sheath. “This must be sorcery of some kind.”

“Even that island is too far away to swim to, if it is an island,” Li Rong said.

The image of the island before them shimmered as the mist swirled around it. Ai Ling squinted, and thought she saw the reflection of something gold. It wavered and was gone.

“I would think I was hallucinating if you weren’t both standing beside me,” she said.

“What’s that?” Chen Yong pointed. A shape seemed to be moving over the water toward them.

Ai Ling shaded her eyes with one hand. Whatever it was moved fast, almost in a blur. “It glints in the sun,” she said.

The thing suddenly veered up into the sky, and she saw the length of it in its entirety, the underbelly gleaming in shades of blue, turquoise, and green, just like the changing seawater itself. Its length was incalculable by sight, but seemed to stretch over half the distance between the island and where they stood.

No one spoke. They craned their necks to the sky and knew what they saw. A dragon flew toward them, wingless and ushered by clouds. It sliced through the air more gracefully than any bird. When it was above their heads, it began to circle, almost spiraling on its own length as if dancing. Ai Ling could see four feet and gold talons. It drifted downward, escorted by cloud wisps that clung around its tail and underbelly, until it was face-to-face with them. Ai Ling held her breath. She could sense, rather than see, Chen Yong standing frozen, his sword still raised.

The dragon snorted as if in greeting, bobbing lightly, riding the sea zephyrs beneath its belly. Its head was magnificent, the length of one man. Its eyes were luminous pearls; the eyebrows and whiskers flowed like kelp on its face, which was the color of a deep sea green. It grinned, revealing teeth as long as her dagger’s blade.

Ai Ling shivered, fear and amazement ricocheted through her. She stood entranced by the beauty of the beast, not knowing if this would be the last thing she saw.

The creature tossed its head, and she felt its spirit tug at her own. Its touch on her was pure, good. It brought to mind the dragon lore she had read in The Book of Lands Beyond. Dragons were companions to the Immortals and helped men in distress. But how much of the myth could she believe? Awed and hesitant, she extended her spirit into the beast—and the world took on an opalescent sheen. She looked at herself and the others. They were blurred, with bright halos surrounding their forms. An ancient strength coursed through the dragon, and it felt light to be within its body, despite its massive size. The dragon held a sense of protection and duty toward the three humans, who looked so diminutive and frail.

“Come. Ride.” It spoke an ancient tongue Ai Ling could barely grasp. She saw an image of herself, Chen Yong, and Li Rong soaring with the wind. Her heart sang, felt utterly free.

She glided back within her own self, the experience a soft whisper, smooth compared to the jarring snap of previous times.

“It wants us to ride on its back,” she said.

“What?” Li Rong asked. “How do you know?”

They looked at the magnificent dragon, and then turned their gazes to her as if she had morphed into a dragon herself.

“It told me,” she said.

“You never cease to surprise me.” Chen Yong sheathed his sword. “It seems as if higher powers intervene with our journey. We’ll fly with the dragon.”

“Wait! How do we know it’s safe? We haven’t been welcomed by gentle creatures during our travels,” Li Rong said. He stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword, his mouth pressed into a firm line.

The dragon undulated to its side, allowing Ai Ling to clamber on its back. Its scales were smooth and warm to the touch. She could feel the power of the beast beneath her palms as she steadied herself.

“I entered its spirit and know it is good. The dragon feels protective toward us.” She graced Li Rong with—she hoped—a charming smile. “Please trust me.”

Chen Yong climbed on behind her, leaving Li Rong standing alone on the jagged rock.

“The things I do for pretty women,” Li Rong muttered before getting onto the massive beast.

The dragon swept over the waves, and Ai Ling hugged its back with her thighs, fearful she would fall into the water below. This was not like riding a horse. The dragon climbed slowly into the air. She glimpsed the gold horns on its head for the first time, next to ears very similar in shape to a deer’s, but covered in rich green scales. They glided on smooth winds, and her spirit soared. There was pure joy in this flight, in this freedom, this world.

“Incredible,” she heard Chen Yong breathe softly behind her.

He held her at the waist with both hands. Her pulse quickened. Ai Ling wanted to lean back into him but wrapped her arms around the neck of the magnificent dragon instead. She let the sea wind cool her hot cheeks.

They floated above the waves toward the mist-shrouded island. As they neared, its appearance grew and changed. The parting mist sometimes revealed a high fortress wall made of gold, which then disappeared behind opaque clouds. The clouds dissipated again to show tall trees on a rocky peak.

The peak collapsed upon itself, and parting clouds next revealed a pagoda set within a lovely garden, with fruit trees and flowers that she knew from home.

A dense fog pressed around them, cold in some spots and uncomfortably warm in others. The mist was so thick Ai Ling became disoriented, grateful for the glimpse of gold horns on the dragon and the feel of Chen Yong’s hands on her waist, gripping a little tighter. Ai Ling lost all sense of time.

Finally light filtered through the mist, and the sky glinted cerulean, bright and endless. The clouds turned soft, pearllike.

The dragon alighted on a tall mountain suspended in midair above the waves. Golden walls stretching endlessly into the sky blocked their view, and a giant door painted the color of cinnabar stood a short distance away. The dragon was still.

“I think it wants us to dismount,” Ai Ling said.

She eased herself off, running her hands over the supple blue-green scales. Chen Yong and Li Rong climbed down after her.

“Thank you,” she said to the dragon.

It lifted its head in acknowledgment, its kelp beard stirred by a wind she could not feel.

“We have come to where the Immortals roam,” Chen Yong said, gazing at the towering golden walls.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The Golden Palace of the Immortals resides on the Mountain of Heavenly Peace,” Chen Yong said. “It’s surrounded by walls of gold—from The Book of the Divine.”

Li Rong pulled a face. “I never did do my lessons for that.”

“You didn’t do your lessons for much of anything.”

“I’m not the scholarly type. Besides, I thought that was ancient folklore—”

“Folktales of Immortals whom many Xian still pray to, offer fruit and burn incense for,” Chen Yong said.

“But country folk, poor peasants, surely,” Li Rong said.

“You judge the gods by who bows down at their altars?” Ai Ling asked.

“I didn’t give it much thought. I . . .” Li Rong looked down and scuffed his shoe on the ground.

“We’ll learn soon if there was truth to those folktales,” she said.

They walked toward the giant doors. They towered so high she could not see their tops. Two creatures flanked them—a jade dragon, coiled like a snake, and a giant lion carved from jasper, with its head tilted back in a ferocious roar.

Ai Ling glanced back at the sea dragon, but it had curled up on the ground, seemingly in the midst of a nap. She jumped, startled, as the jade dragon by the doors reared its head. The red lion relinquished its roar into the sky, so loud and thunderous it left her ears ringing. A familiar warmth washed over her breast. She looked down to find her jade pendant glowing so brightly it looked like a white star.

“Goddess of Mercy,” Li Rong said. His eyes darted from the jade dragon, extending itself to its full length, to the jasper lion, which had risen onto all fours and was shaking its unmoving mane. Two pairs of curious diamond eyes glittered at them.

“Don’t draw your weapon,” Chen Yong said. “Don’t move.”

“Are you mad? That was the last thing on my mind.” Li Rong gulped audibly.

“I don’t think they’ll hurt us,” Ai Ling said. “We were brought here by the dragon . . .”

“As their snack,” Li Rong finished her sentence.

Ai Ling took slow, deliberate steps toward the two creatures. A cold-hot sweat collected at her temples. They wouldn’t hurt her; she was brought by the sea dragon, which was good, protective. She opened and closed her sweaty palms, willing her arms still by her sides. Something drew her to the massive doors—she had been brought here for a reason. As she passed the magical stone beasts, both bowed their heads to the ground, making her draw a sharp breath.

“It’s as if they welcome you.” Chen Yong’s voice behind her was higher than usual.

She reached the doors and examined them closely, forcing herself not to look back. They were carved intricately with beings she could not identify—three-legged people with two heads, horses with bird beaks, twisted serpents with human faces. Ai Ling reached out and stroked the etching. Was this the serpent demon they had slain? The doors slid ajar at her touch.

The dragon to her left snorted, stretching its four short legs and digging its jade claws into the mountain. The jasper lion rumbled deep in its throat and sat down on its powerful haunches once again, eyes never straying from Chen Yong and Li Rong. Ai Ling eased the massive doors open with a light touch and walked through.

She turned and motioned for the others. They stood immobile, gaping at her, the expressions on their faces making them seem like blood brothers after all. Chen Yong was the first to stride forward, and Li Rong scrambled to follow.

They stepped into an immense garden filled with fantastic trees that stretched to the skies. The air hung fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle and sweet ginger, distinct, yet not overpowering. A marbled path wound up toward a pagoda in the distance. Ai Ling stopped at the first tree, its trunk as thick as three men, the roots gnarled and spread wide, drinking deep from the ground. Its ivory leaves were shaped like the palms of hands, and it bore fruit—glistening human hearts that beat rhythmically on white stems. A jade placard set into the ground had the words LOVE LOST TREE etched in gold upon it.

What did that mean? She slanted a sidelong glance toward Chen Yong. Did his heart hang from the branches of this tree? Would hers as well, some day? The sound of a hundred heartbeats thudded against Ai Ling’s ears, each pulsing to its own story of loss. She walked on, unable to bear the thrumming of all those broken hearts.

The next tree was slender and delicate compared to the last, its trunks and branches silver. It carried no leaves, yet bore red and green berries of ruby and emerald. They glittered in the sunlight and rustled in the wind with a pleasant tinkling. She looked for the name of this tree and found the jade placard with the words ETERNAL BERRY TREE etched on it.

“The dragons eat the fruit from this tree,” Chen Yong said.

“You mean they don’t tear humans limb from limb?” Li Rong asked, only half jesting.

His brother lifted his shoulders. “It’s what I recall from The Book of the Divine.”

“Only the flying dragons,” Ai Ling said.

Both young men turned to her. “Those who live in crevices and mountains—the ones that can’t fly—they all dine on different things.”

“Another scholar in this group, I see. And much nicer to look at than you.” Li Rong nudged Chen Yong in the ribs with an elbow.

“I don’t remember that from The Book of the Divine,” Chen Yong said, ignoring his brother’s gibe.

“It’s from The Book of Lands Beyond. Father didn’t let me read from it much; he didn’t consider it scholarly enough. I studied the book on my own,” she said.

The only one that had fascinated her more was The Book of the Dead.

Ai Ling moved on to the third tree along the path. This one looked like an ordinary peach tree, lush with green leaves, but without fruit. She started at the sight of a six-headed vermilion hawk perched on one of its lower branches. The heads twisted in every direction, seeing everything, the sixpointed beaks as lethal as daggers. It flapped its wings, the span as wide as her own arms outstretched, but stayed on its perch.

A sudden movement from a higher branch revealed a nine-headed feline, a pantherlike creature with golden fur. All nine heads hissed in unison as it extended sharp claws and climbed onto a lower branch. Ai Ling backed away from the tree, but not before reading the placard partially buried at its roots.

THE TREE OF IMMORTALITY.

She turned and nearly slammed into Chen Yong. He stopped her with both hands and peered up at the hawk and the nine-headed golden panther.

“The most ordinary-looking tree is the most protected in this garden,” he said, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

Her father had told her of the Tree of Immortality when she was a young girl—the tales always fascinated her. It only bore fruit once in many human lifetimes, but the mortal fortunate enough to eat from the peach would live more than a thousand years. She never understood why anyone would want to live for so long and continuously lose loved ones, to watch them age and die. But many stories were told of men and women who murdered and betrayed for a taste of the fruit—for the possibility of immortality.

They walked past nine more trees, simply observing, silent in their awe.

There was the tree with leaves that were giant eyes blinking in the wind. The irises were of every shade imaginable, pink, green, scarlet, and orange. The pupils were all shaped differently, from circles to squares and diamonds, swirls and stars. The eye leaves rustled under the gentle breeze of the heavenly mountain, all blinking, and all-seeing. THE OBSERVANT TREE.

“What do you think it means?” Ai Ling asked no one in particular.

“I don’t know, but it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end,” Li Rong said.

She felt the same way.

Another tree was subject to the change of seasons every few minutes—one moment in full bloom with ripe red fruits like apples, in the next all the fruits plummeted to the ground and withered. The leaves crumpled from brown to black until they decayed into nothing. The branches were bare before budding leaves appeared and red fruit began to form again. They stood watching the seasons change through two cycles, amazed by the speed, disconcerted by something so against nature in their world. The placard below read THE TREE OF LIFE.

The compression of the seasons haunted and disturbed Ai Ling, and she averted her face and walked on.

The winding path finally led them to the steps of the jade pagoda. Its sloping roof was hewn of gold, the pillars of white jade, and the rest, jade of the clearest green. Ai Ling climbed the steps, knowing in her heart that she had been summoned here. Chen Yong and Li Rong trailed behind her. They had followed her through the gates and into the garden, as if accepting her as their leader in this otherworldly realm. But she did not feel like a leader.

A long rosewood table stretched across the diameter of the circular pagoda. A silk screen embroidered with mountains and clouds shaded the sunlight from one side. The rest of the pagoda was open to the outdoors, with a view of the gardens and trees beyond, a glint of water visible among the flowers.

A Goddess sat regally behind the table, her three heads held high. One faced her audience directly, while the other two faced right and left. They looked to be identical in their features, ebony hair swept up in loops and adorned with pearls. The Goddess’ faces were lucent, pale. Long, slender eyes lined in black examined them intently, making Ai Ling feel as if she stood in her underclothing. A fine, straight nose graced each face, above a curved mouth touched with a hint of lotus pink. Her features were perfect, yet the Goddess with her austere expression was remote, above them, beyond any measure of human beauty.

Four arms protruded from her torso, two on each side. One hand held a giant square-shaped chop carved from jade, another a calligraphy brush, while the third grasped an ink stick, and the final hand held a blank rice-paper scroll.

“Ai Ling, you and your friends are welcome in the gardens of the Golden Palace. No mortal has passed through those gates in countless centuries.”

Why had they been allowed entrance? Ai Ling bowed her head, not knowing what else would be appropriate. Chen Yong and Li Rong both dropped to their knees beside her.

The Goddess set her brush down. “That is not necessary.” She waved one hand imperiously. “Please sit.”

Carved chairs of jasper and jade appeared. Ai Ling fell into the jade chair, her awe at this magic dampened by her anxiety. Chen Yong and Li Rong took the jasper seats that flanked her.

“You called us here . . . Lady?” Ai Ling did not know how to address her.

“I am the Goddess of Records, but you may call me Lady.” Only then did Ai Ling realize that all six lips moved, each mouth speaking the words in unison. The combined voices were dreamy and soft, soothing. The Goddess placed the objects she was holding on her desk and clasped elegant hands in her lap.

“That jade piece”—the Goddess lifted one slender finger toward her necklace—“was a gift from me to you. Your father gave it to you before he left on his journey, as he was told to do. It was given to him by one of the Gods, disguised as a wise monk. Your father, being wise himself, took his advice to heart.”

Ai Ling looked down at her pendant and saw that it was aglow, bathing her skin in a calming warmth. She clasped it in one hand, remembering the last time she had spoken with Father in private, by the plum tree in their front courtyard.

“Why is ‘spirit’ carved onto it, Lady?” she asked.

“The pendant carries a protective spirit. We feared you would be the target of strong enemies. Evil enemies.” The movement of the Goddess’ mouths became hypnotic. Ai Ling glanced at her companions; they were looking at the Lady with rapt expressions, as if unable to turn away.

“Protective spirit,” Ai Ling repeated.

The Goddess nodded. “A powerful spirit to help guard you. You were chosen for this task before you were born. It seems you have also reincarnated with strong powers of your own—neither planned nor foreseen. The fates work in strange ways, indeed. These abilities will help you to kill Zhong Ye, who holds your father captive at the Palace.”

Kill? Who was Zhong Ye? It couldn’t be real. Her hand trembled on the jade pendant, and its light emanated through her fingers. The warmth washed over her again, and she felt calmer.

“Is my father all right?” Ai Ling asked.

“Yes. For now. Zhong Ye uses your father to lure you to him.” The Goddess’ mouths murmured, as if in condolence.

“I don’t understand.”

“Zhong Ye has played the guise of counselor to numerous emperors for over three centuries. As a mortal, he was intelligent and cunning; now, in his unnatural state of life, he is even more so. He fell in love with you in your last incarnation. But his plans to wed you were thwarted. Zhong Ye wants you still.”

Her world reeled in dizzying circles. This man wanted her . . . loved her in a past life? Ai Ling felt queasy and lightheaded, sickened by the thought that Father was a prisoner because of her—revolted that Zhong Ye desired her for a bride.

She sensed both brothers turn to her, but she could not look at them. Li Rong reached for her hand and squeezed her damp palm, bringing the sting of tears to her nostrils. Ai Ling sought Chen Yong’s eyes as Li Rong withdrew his hand. His high brow was knitted in concern.

Ai Ling swallowed the knot in her throat. “How do I do this, Lady? Kill Zhong Ye?”

The Goddess stood and surprised Ai Ling with her height. She was taller than any person she’d ever seen, at least three hands taller than Chen Yong. The Goddess strode with regal steps toward her and revealed a crystal vial in one hand. “Take this. You must visit the Lady in White, and she will fill this vial for you. Its contents will aid you in casting Zhong Ye to the underworld.”

Ai Ling took the vial. It was barely the length of her smallest finger and near the same width in diameter. The glass was elaborately carved with characters she did not recognize.

“If Zhong Ye wishes to have me, if you wish me to kill him, why have there been so many obstacles on my journey to the Palace?”

The Goddess smiled.

“You are perceptive. Zhong Ye does not wish harm upon you; he believes he loves you. It is the work of his current bride, who realizes her days ruling by his side are numbered if you do appear. After many centuries, she knows you have reincarnated, that you are on your way. She wants you dead.”

Ai Ling felt the hairs on her neck rise. Finally things were falling into place, even if they were too incredible to believe. Who had she been in her last life? And why had she been chosen for such a horrific task? Ai Ling wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to be back home; back in a time when her world was ordinary.

“She is powerful and cunning, a dangerous foe,” the Goddess continued. “But it is Zhong Ye you need to be most leery of. He has managed to stay alive by devouring others’ spirits, keeping them bound to him, so they are unable to truly die and reincarnate. Hundreds of spirits have been sundered from the Life Cycle.”

The Goddess returned to her seat and sat down, her delicate eyebrows drawn together. “As the Goddess of Records, it is my duty to enter names in The Book of Life in crimson and in The Book of Death in black. Too many births have been recorded without souls to fill their human form—the babes are born without spirit.” The Goddess raised her elegant heads, and her anger swept across Ai Ling like a lash of cold rain.

“Zhong Ye is playing god, when he is no god,” the Goddess said.

Hundreds of spirits held captive, unable to become reborn and fulfill their destiny. Ai Ling thought about the older brother she never had, the one who was born still. Had Zhong Ye killed him? Stolen his spirit so he could not live? She gripped the jade armrests with tight hands. Was he the cause of her parents’ grief—and so many others’?

Li Rong cleared his throat. “Couldn’t you kill Zhong Ye yourself, Lady? Fling a lightning bolt at him? Turn him into a water buffalo?”

The Immortal shifted, her three faces turned to him. Li Rong tucked his chin, like a tortoise shrinking within himself—only he had no shell to hide in. Ai Ling would have smiled, but he asked a very good question.

“I cannot. I am bound by heavenly laws and duties. The Immortals do not often meddle in human lives.” The Goddess turned now and regarded her. “I aid you for very selfish reasons, Ai Ling. You face a great nemesis in Zhong Ye. There is no telling what will happen if he continues to live through the consumption of others’ spirits.”

The Goddess rose. She raised one ivory arm, her stance reminding Ai Ling of the statues of Immortals hewn from white jade. “Roam the garden. Explore. You will find food and a place to rest.” With that dismissal, her image shimmered and then faded completely.

After a long silence, Li Rong spoke first. “I’ve been a fool in my refusal to believe in the gods.” He jumped from his chair and banged his head on the floor three times.

“You disbelieved? What did you think happened when we die?” Ai Ling asked, incredulous.

“I assumed there was nothing after death,” Li Rong said, and then struck his brow against the luminous jade floor three more times.

“You’ve got your head too full flirting with pretty ladies to think about the mystic and otherworldly, little brother,” Chen Yong said.

Li Rong stood, but not before bowing once to the goddess’ empty chair. “There may be truth in that. Do you mean to say you believed in all the worship, the offerings, the incense burning?”

“I accepted it as our obligation, and I never questioned its truth. And I’ll never have to question it, after this day.”

“You were always the most traditional, Chen Yong, for being only half Xian.”

Chen Yong rose from his jasper chair, but not before Ai Ling saw him wince. He turned from them, the brief hurt she’d glimpsed already masked. “We should look around the gardens,” he said. “Not many mortals can say they had such an opportunity.”

Ai Ling and Li Rong rose. The elaborately carved chairs shimmered and disappeared, just as the Goddess had. They walked down the gleaming jade steps of the pagoda and took the path that meandered beyond it, adjacent to a winding river rushing over smooth red pebbles.

“This must be the Scarlet River, which is supposed to run through the Golden Palace,” Ai Ling said.

The path opened into a secluded garden. Chrysanthemums bloomed in orange and red, their faces turned to the sun; rare orchids bowed gracefully in their carved ivory pots. Ai Ling breathed in the scent of jasmine and sunshine.

“Look over there.” Li Rong pointed to two birds strolling majestically by the pavilion.

“Phoenixes,” Ai Ling whispered, afraid of startling them.

The birds reached taller than her waist, with long legs covered in golden scales. Their heads were white, with a vermilion comb on top. One phoenix stopped briefly to ruffle the crimson and gold feathers of its back with a pointed beak. They walked with dainty steps, light glancing off their hooked talons, the giant plumes of their red tails trailing behind.

“This is their favorite spot,” said a lyrical voice.

A woman dressed in a pale green gown stood under a pavilion. She swept her arm to reveal the table behind her, laden with dishes. The smell of scallion and ginger and even more exotic scents assailed Ai Ling.

“A meal awaits. Eat at your leisure.” The woman bowed, her black hair free flowing except for two braids coiled on top in loops. She vanished from view.

“I’ll never become used to that,” Li Rong said after she was gone. And, as an afterthought, “I wonder if a mortal can love the servant of a goddess?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Ai Ling teased.

“You didn’t have much luck with a serpent demon,” Chen Yong said.

Ai Ling and Chen Yong laughed together. Li Rong threw a playful jab at his brother, which Chen Yong pushed to the side with a sweeping arc of his forearm.

“We’re not all monks like you, old brother,” Li Rong said. Chen Yong raised a brow but made no reply.

They settled down on the stools and watched the two phoenixes stroll to the river and dip their golden beaks into the rushing water.

“Do you think it’s safe to eat the food of the Immortals?” Li Rong asked.

“I feel we’re safe here,” Ai Ling said, helping herself to rice, vegetables, fish, braised meatballs, and a steamed bun. “I’m afraid to return to our world.”

Both brothers looked serious now, as they joined her in the meal. The food on their plates never dwindled, nor did their teacups empty. Each serving was more addictive than the last.

“Thank you, Immortals!” Li Rong said, unsuccessfully hiding a burp behind his hand.

Ai Ling laughed as Chen Yong shook his head.

“Have you considered all that the Goddess said?” Chen Yong asked.

“If I dwell too long, saving Father becomes an impossible task.” She closed her eyes, hoping for silence.

“What Zhong Ye does affects all of us in a way. Who knows how he has skewed the Life Cycle by keeping these spirits trapped? I wanted to go to the Palace to find my mother, but I go now to help you slay this man as well,” Chen Yong said, his voice quiet and steady.

“Me, too,” Li Rong, head down, mumbled from behind his sleeve.

Ai Ling opened her eyes and found Chen Yong studying her with an expression she could not identify. She fought the urge to touch him with her spirit, just to glean his thoughts, but she had promised herself she’d never intrude on him like that again. She smiled instead, unable to express her gratitude.

“You must have been very strong in your past life to be chosen for this task,” Chen Yong said.

She straightened, no longer drowsy. Her hand unconsciously sought her dagger’s jeweled hilt. What was the use of being strong in a past life? Would she be strong enough in this one? They spent the rest of the afternoon following the curve of the gentle river, exploring the lush garden. Ai Ling sketched the flowers; Li Rong stalked the phoenixes, until he came too close and got pecked in the thigh.

At dusk, they found three plush beds under the same pavilion where they had dined. A platter of fruit and some more lavender-colored tea were set on a low table.

Before the light faded entirely, Ai Ling decided to find a secluded spot and bathe in the river. She strolled away from the pavilion, feeling safe and at ease in the garden. She’d been so tense, so afraid these past few days. Thank the Goddess Chen Yong and Li Rong were with her.

Finding an area with soft grass along the riverbank, Ai Ling stripped bare. She loosened her braid, and threw a glance over her shoulder. Nothing stirred.

The water was warm. The rush of the current exhilarated her, and the elliptical pebbles pressed into her flesh, massaging knotted muscles. Her tension unfurled—Ai Ling imagined it rising to her skin’s surface, being swept away by the flow of water. She slid a bit lower, propped herself up on her elbows, her entire body beneath the warm, gurgling river.

She threw her head back and wet her unbound hair. Her breath caught in her throat. The stars emerging from the deep indigo of early evening were endless. At first the sky was flat, but the longer she looked, the more bright specks leaped into place, until the darkness took on depth. Brilliant points of silver, white, bright orange, and cold blue blinked down from above.

She traced the Azure Dragon by the glimmering dots in the sky and had begun to search for the Agate Tortoise when she heard the brush move.

Ai Ling quickly sat up and drew her knees to her bare chest, bumps prickling her arms. “Who is it?” she asked in a quiet voice, quelling the unexpected panic that filled her.

A silver cat glided from the thickets, seating itself daintily near the river’s edge. It was unlike any feline she had seen, with short, thick fur the exact color of a shiny coin.

“Hello there.” She cocked her head at the cat, which raised a paw and began licking it. The action was so familiar it immediately brought Taro to mind. She ached for home.

“The water is very relaxing. Have you tried it?”

The cat paused in its cleaning and regarded her with silver eyes. It mewed as if in reply, the sound throaty and lyrical, taking her by surprise.

“No. Taro doesn’t like baths either.”

There was a rustle of steps on the path. She wrapped her arms around her breasts.

“Ai Ling?”

Chen Yong.

“Yes, I’m bathing.”

“I thought I heard you speaking.” His voice carried in the still night, even though Ai Ling could not see him.

“I was talking to myself.” She decided that was easier than trying to explain why she was having a conversation with a silver-haired cat.

There was a pause before Chen Yong replied, “All right.”

Embarrassed, she quickly braided her hair. It was time to dress and retire. Ai Ling reached for the thick towel she had brought, dried herself, and pulled on a clean tunic and trousers.

She bade the cat good night and headed down the path toward the pavilion. Their beds were arranged in a triangle formation. One glass lantern shaped like a lotus flower glowed in the middle of this makeshift nest until Li Rong extinguished its three flames.

The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves and the chirping of crickets. Even the Immortals have crickets in their garden, she thought, before she fell into a contented sleep.