Ai Ling’s fingers seized Feng’s thick mane. “I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me after what happened.” She felt courageous for speaking this difficult thought aloud to him, garnering boldness from her tall vantage point astride the horse.
Chen Yong looked up at her, his features shrouded in shadow. He turned his head back toward the road before speaking. “I apologize for my actions, Ai Ling. What happened that night was terrible, and I shouldn’t have deserted you. I acted out of anger and disappointment.”
Li Rong tilted his head and studied her as a cat would.
“Thank you.” She was grateful for the darkness that hid her hot cheeks. Why was she perpetually blushing?
The moon hung low over the horizon. The sound of the horse’s steady hooves, an occasional bird call, and the rustling of leaves were all that accompanied their silence. Her shoulders tensed with each new stirring in the darkness. Chen Yong still clasped the hilt of his sword, while Li Rong strolled beside him in a jaunty, carefree manner.
Ai Ling finally broke the silence, speaking in a hushed tone, as if unwanted ears lingered close. “Master Tan mentioned a seer in the Ping Peaks. He said this Lao Pan may be able to help me . . . against the evil entities.”
“You mean to say you’ve seen more than that dead thing lying in the road?” Li Rong asked.
“More than anyone should,” Chen Yong said.
She simply nodded, not caring if they saw her. She did not want to speak of the events from the past few days.
“A seer’s insight couldn’t hurt,” Chen Yong said, stopping. Ai Ling retrieved Master Tan’s map from her knapsack and passed it to him.
He held it under the small travel lantern. “It’s marked on the map. Very prominently as well.” Chen Yong glanced up, the small flame highlighting his cheekbones and slicing shadows across his strong jaw line. “It appears only a few hours’ travel from here.” He leaned toward the parchment, put a finger on it. “Lao Pan’s cave is nestled near the bottom of the peaks.”
“Cave?” Li Rong said. “That’s worth the trip alone.”
They walked on until the moon rose directly overhead.
Ai Ling drifted toward sleep, listening to the two brothers catch up on family gossip in quiet tones. Chen Yong held the travel lantern in one hand, a tiny beacon in what felt like a vast world of dark shapes and fleeting shadows. Gradually the smooth lines of the terraced fields gave way to rugged hilltops, thrusting like gnarled fingers into the sky. They veered onto a path at the bottom of one such peak and started to climb slowly. The path soon narrowed, so they walked in single file, Chen Yong leading them while Li Rong guided Ai Ling on his horse.
Fully awake now as the ground below dropped sharply to her right, Ai Ling sat with her legs hugging the horse’s warm sides. After a long time of walking in silence, the path opened to a large landing. She dismounted to stretch her sore thighs, offering the horse an apple that Li Rong gave her. The horse chomped on it with enthusiasm and whinnied as she smoothed a palm over its strong neck.
“According to the map, the entrance of the cave is just around the bend,” Chen Yong said.
Ai Ling followed him while Li Rong led Feng behind her. She saw the two torches first, carved of a deep blue stone, reaching far above her head. They were on either side of the cave entrance, which was hewn in the shape of a tiger’s head, its mouth gaping wide in a snarl. Dark green stones glittered above them, representing the cat’s eyes. Fangs jutted from the ground and from above the entrance, formed from an unfamiliar milk white stone.
“This is the last thing I would’ve expected,” Li Rong said, his head tilted up.
“Strangers approach!” A reedy voice spoke from near the cave entrance. Both brothers reached for their weapons. Ai Ling rested her own hand on her dagger.
A spray of water shot forth from one of the lotus-leaf fountains that stood on either side of the cave. The torchlight revealed water swirling in a rainbow of color. Ai Ling walked with caution toward the fountain and peered in. Multicolored stones rested at the bottom of the shallow bowl.
“A girl with raven hair,” a voice said again. The sound came directly from the fountain.
“Stand back, Ai Ling,” Chen Yong said. Even as she did so, another plume of water erupted, landing at her feet.
“They all have raven hair, you slippery twit,” a voice warbled from the opposite fountain.
“Not so, not so,” the first fountain replied. Ai Ling leaned over again. Another spray splashed her cheek. She yelped from the cold shock of water, then wiped away the drops as her face began to burn. Her hand tingled painfully where she had wiped her cheek.
“You got wet, did you?” Li Rong chuckled.
She covered her cheek with one hand. “The water stings,” she said, unable to explain the pain beyond that.
Chen Yong gently pulled her hand aside to examine her face, while Li Rong held the gilded lantern close. “It bores a hole into the skin,” Chen Yong said, his voice quiet with shock.
“What?” Ai Ling asked. Tears streaked down her face. The pain was so intense she could barely think. She was too afraid to touch the wound and turned her face from the young men.
“I see you have met my water pets,” said a voice from within the cave.
A thin man approached with a torch in one hand. He wore his white hair in a single queue and a square gold cap on his head. He was attired in robes of the same color, a sash of bright crimson tied at the waist. Silk pouches in various colors hung from it.
“Come, Ai Ling. Let us apply the antidote to your cheek before you lose part of that pretty face . . . and more.” His commanding presence discouraged any questions as they followed him into the cave. She stumbled as her tears blinded her, biting her lip hard to keep from sobbing aloud. Chen Yong took her elbow and guided her.
The man pulled a jar from the cave wall as if he had conjured it. He pinched something between two long fingers, stepped up to Ai Ling, and rubbed the substance into her cheek. “Did the water touch you elsewhere?” he asked.
She showed him her hand, and he pinched more thin flakes from the clear jar and applied them to her burning fingers. “The pain should cease immediately. And you will heal as if you were never hurt.” He smiled at her, eye to eye. Even as he spoke, the searing agony faded. “I hope this teaches you to not look where you shouldn’t.”
“You knew my name.” The realization hit her long after he had said it, her mind was so crushed by the pain.
“Master Tan spoke of you when I was called to his manor. I performed purity rites throughout the home,” the seer said. Ai Ling’s thought flew to the new writings and characters plastered on the Tan manor’s main door. They must have been part of the purity rites, to ward off evil and cleanse the home.
“I am Lao Pan, an old friend to Master Tan. Please follow me.”
Lao Pan’s bright torch threw glimmers of light across the incandescent walls of the cave. After walking only a short distance, they were outside again.
It was a natural courtyard, oval in shape, nestled within the mountainside, with a small house tucked against the steep rock face at the back. A welcoming fire glowed in the middle of the wide-open space.
“We have no fresh grass, but there is hay for your horse.” Lao Pan pointed toward what looked like a small stable. Li Rong led Feng there, speaking softly all the while. The seer swept an arm toward stone benches under a giant starfruit tree, and the weary travelers seated themselves.
“It’s a breach within the mountainside. Nature shaped a perfect facade for my humble home,” Lao Pan said. A boy of about thirteen years emerged from the house with a tray of tea. “My grandson, Rui. Also my apprentice.”
“Did you carve the tiger head into the mountainside?” Chen Yong asked.