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.
13
Ai Ling sat up and rubbed her face, embarrassed to be the last one to rise.
“A peaceful morning.” Chen Yong smiled. The dust of travel had been scrubbed from his face, his thick hair bound in a topknot wet and dark. Had he bathed in the river? He wore a new tunic, slate gray embroidered with hints of cerulean along the collar and sleeves.
“There’s hot goat’s milk for your morning meal, along with sticky rice balls with sweetened taro, rice porridge with pickled vegetables and salted pork, and the most amazing fruit you’ve ever tasted.” Li Rong waved his arm in a flourish toward a lacquered tray laden with food at the end of her bed.
“We couldn’t wait for you,” Chen Yong said, although he didn’t sound apologetic. She didn’t mind. She wouldn’t have waited either.
She scooted to the end of the bed and picked up a sticky rice ball and bit into it. Sweet things first. The chewy taro paste within had just the right hint of sugar. “Mmm,” she managed with her mouth full.
“I’d be twice my size if I lived here,” Li Rong said.
Ai Ling had another sticky rice ball already stuffed in her mouth. She washed it down with a sip of tea, and then realized both brothers were watching her. She gripped the teacup tight in her hands, not knowing how to express her jumbled thoughts and feelings. “I’m truly grateful you journey with me.”
“This Zhong Ye who has captured your father must be defeated. Besides . . .” Chen Yong waited for her to raise her face before he continued. “I feel as if our fates are somehow intertwined. I’ve felt it from the moment I saw you lying on the edge of that lake . . . and when we met again at the noodle house.”
She looked away. She felt connected to Chen Yong unlike anyone else she had ever known. Was it because he had saved her life? Or because she had slipped into his spirit? She only nodded, for fear she would squeak if she spoke.
“The Immortals are probably pulling the strings,” Chen Yong said.
“We have control over many things, Chen Yong, but not an individual’s fate. That falls within the patterns of life itself. How one’s path crosses or misses another’s is beyond our control,” the Goddess of Records said.
They turned to find the Immortal at the bottom of the pavilion steps. They leaped to their feet, the young men bowing low.
“But I thought you said I was chosen, Lady, to defeat Zhong Ye,” Ai Ling said. She spoke without thought, and felt foolish for speaking as she would to her companions. She felt even more awkward with her mussed hair.
The Goddess smiled with all three faces. She waved one pale hand, indicating that they should sit. “It wasn’t so much that you were chosen for the task, Ai Ling. But rather, you volunteered for it—more than two centuries past—while you dwelled in the underworld, waiting to enter your next life. This life.”
Ai Ling closed her mouth after she realized it had dropped open. She turned to Chen Yong and he blinked, looking as surprised as she felt. Apparently, rashness transcended lifetimes.
“Two centuries?” she finally managed.
“It is an unusually long time in the underworld. I think your former incarnation was biding her time, gathering her strength,” the Goddess said.
The phoenixes emerged from behind a flowering hedge and ambled toward the pavilion. The Goddess sat down gracefully on a jade step. “The sea dragon will take you to the Mountain of Eternal Prayer. It hovers in the clouds, between your realm and ours. This is where the Lady in White resides.”
She stretched long fingers toward the two birds. Ai Ling saw that her fingernails were perfectly manicured, and that she wore pointed gold finger covers over the last fingers of her right hands. The Immortal leaned forward, the lavender silk of her gown cascading around her feet like liquid, and fed the birds purple berries, which had magically appeared in two palms. The stiff collars of the gown showed off her graceful necks, the material embroidered with a thousand blooming chrysanthemums. “The sea dragon awaits outside the gates, when you are ready. May good fortune keep you.” She shimmered out of view.