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.