Chapter no 11

Daughter of the Moon Goddess

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My black hair fell

smoothly to my waist, my skin glowing from my afternoons in the sun. While my features might be unremarkable, I was content with what I saw—even the cleft in my chin which

the Celestial Empress had criticized as a mark of ill-temper.

I reached for one of my usual dresses, but then pulled out a light blue silk instead, embroidered with colorful birds.

When I slipped it on, a starling stitched in green thread spread its wings and flew once around the skirt. My

lifeforce had indeed strengthened. Minyi had asked her friend, a skilled seamstress, to make this—after

complaining my clothes were too plain and unbecoming. My closet was indeed filled with white garments. I had not minded, as they reminded me of my mother.

But now, life was vivid with color.

An unusual interest in my appearance gripped me today; rarely had I dressed with such care. There was a spring in my step as I walked across the courtyard, but outside Liwei’s chamber, I hesitated. Had it been a dream? What if he did not remember? Worse yet, what if he regretted all

that had happened? Steeling myself, I pushed the doors open and entered.

He was already up, sitting by the table, in a brocade robe knotted around his waist with a length of black silk. A ring of silver pulled his hair up, flowing like a river of ink down his back. His eyes were as dark as they had always been,

yet a hundred times more beautiful to me now.

His gaze lingered on me as he rose to his feet. “Don’t look so astonished. I can get dressed without someone

holding up my clothes for me.” A smile tugged at his lips, as he added, “Though I much prefer it when it’s you.”

My treacherous mind conjured up images of all the times I had draped silk and brocade over his shoulders. How my fingers had grazed the hollow of his neck whenever I

adjusted the folds of his robe, my hands encircling his waist to tie his sash. I had not given it a second thought then, yet now my heart raced as my throat went dry.

“Xingyin.”

My name on his lips stirred me. I glanced at him, noticing the slender box that he held out to me. “It’s your birthday, not mine.”

“It’s good luck to exchange gifts,” he said, by way of explanation.

When I made no move to take the box, he flipped the lid open and pulled out a hairpin. Crafted from wood, it was lacquered in rich shades of blue, studded with tiny clear stones which snared and fractured the light.

My breath caught in my throat. Hairpins were

traditionally gifted as a love token, but I quenched the hope that sparked in me. We had made no such promises to each other. As for last night . . . I was still unsure what it meant

in the light of day.

“I made this a while ago, to match the meaning of your name. It took me a while to get the colors right.”

He had made this? For me? It was exquisite, his skill capturing all the temperamental moods of the sky. And

even if it were not, even if it were just a shaft of plain wood

—it would mean no less to me.

He leaned forward and slid the pin into my hair. Just as he had the first time we met.

“Thank you,” I managed, lifting my gaze to his.

“We only have the morning. My father has asked to see me before the banquet.” He picked up a tiered basket from the table, before reaching for my hand with his other. “Will you change your mind and come tonight? It would mean a great deal to me to have you there. It would make it a lot less dull.” His mouth curved into a persuasive smile.

My insides twisted at the thought of seeing Their

Celestial Majesties. But this was Liwei’s celebration and a part of me was curious about this side of him which I so

rarely saw—that of the heir to the throne. And now, I found myself wanting to spend each moment with him, feeling an unfamiliar twinge when we were apart.

“Yes,” I told him. “I will come.”

In the courtyard, Liwei summoned a cloud. It struck me that he could now leave the palace at will, which meant he would assume his court duties soon. I pushed aside a wave

of anxiety; I would not taint today with doubts of tomorrow or fears of the past. Although when I stared at the cloud, I could not help thinking of the last time I had flown on one with Ping’er. Stepping onto it, Liwei pulled me up behind him. The cloud was soft and cool, yet firm beneath my feet.

When it darted through the air, I stumbled, but Liwei grabbed my hand to steady me and did not let go.

After a few moments, I began to relax. The cloud soared so smoothly that I soon forgot my fears. Flying in the

daylight was infinitely more pleasurable than fleeing in the night. Towering mountains, shimmering lakes, and lush

emerald forests unfurled like a scroll painting beneath our feet. As we darted through a light shower of rain, the droplets that grazed my skin were as refreshing as morning dew. I might have been cold with the gathering dark clouds obscuring the sun, but for Liwei’s hands over mine,

infusing me with warmth.

We landed in the middle of a forest, the likes of which I had never seen before. Not in the Celestial Kingdom, not

even in my dreams. Peach blossom trees bloomed as far as my eye could see, their branches laden with pink and white flowers that laced the air with a heady sweetness.

Whenever the wind blew, a scattering of petals drifted to the ground.

I caught one in my palm—velvet soft, lighter than air. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere in the Mortal Realm.”

“The Mortal Realm?” My voice rose in alarm.

Immortals were forbidden from descending here without leave from the Celestial Emperor. Long ago, they had

roamed this world at leisure. Perhaps they enjoyed the rush of power to walk among those weaker, to hear their songs

of worship or terrified pleas. To the mortals, they were not just immortals; they were gods. However, this had led to

great turmoil. Mortals were terrified by magic. And too many destinies were altered through such interference,

causing the untimely deaths of some or saving others from fated calamities. The Keeper of Mortal Fates persuaded the Celestial Emperor to issue an edict, banning all immortals from venturing here freely. Though many lamented this outcome, none dared to challenge the command. Since then, our realm was veiled from mortal sight and with each passing year, their memories of us faded further into myth and legend. All they saw now when they looked up into the sky were the sun, moon, and stars.

“Are we allowed to be here?” I peered furtively at the sky, half expecting the Keeper of Mortal Fates to descend and

haul us back for punishment.

Liwei lifted the oblong piece of jade which hung by his waist, intricately carved with a dragon. An imperial seal. “With this, we can go anywhere we wish,” he assured me, dropping it down where it clinked against the Sky Drop

Tassel. “One of the few benefits of attending those lengthy discussions at court.”

After walking a little farther into the forest, we sat beside a gurgling stream. The soft grass was blanketed by pale petals, a few already browning at their edges. A reminder

that nothing here stayed the same, each moment bringing all creatures closer to their inevitable end. I could not help thinking of my father, growing older with each passing day. A longing gripped me to search for him, to seek him out if he lived still. But Liwei knew nothing of my parents, and how could I tell him now?

I was glad he could not see my face as he unpacked the basket. Out came a porcelain wine jar, golden pears, and an assortment of steamed buns—some stuffed with sweet bean paste, others with meat. As I reached for one, my hand

collided into his.

He whisked the plate out of my reach. “How about a challenge for these?”

I groaned inwardly. Without my bow, he would probably best me at any other weapon. And while I did not care

much for the prize, I cared even less for losing. Oblivious to my discontent, Liwei searched the ground until he found two sturdy sticks, tossing me one.

I caught it midair. “Don’t you think the odds are weighted in your favor? You’re the better swordsman. At least for now,” I muttered under my breath.

He circled me with predatory grace. “Already conceding defeat?”

I leapt to my feet at once, my fingers tightening around the rough bark.

A length of white silk appeared in his palm. “I’ll cover one of my eyes, but I’ll still win.”

“By all means,” I said sweetly, trying not to gnash my teeth. I could have spurned his arrogant offer, but I would grasp any advantage just to dent his pride.

A breeze swept through the trees, raining flowers upon us as we stood opposite each other. I sprang at his

blindfolded side first, hoping to take him by surprise. Liwei flung his stick up to block mine, withdrawing quickly to

strike my calf. I hissed, whirling to stab him in the chest. A breath whooshed from his lips as I darted out of his reach, a moment before we flew at each other in earnest. The

peace of the forest disintegrated with the crunch of our

feet against the stones and dried leaves, the crash from our colliding sticks. I could not help a rush of admiration for his technique—his fierce attack yet swift recoil, each move

controlled and yet free. Our match was closer than expected, and I hoped with some luck I might win. Spotting an opening, I lunged forward—but he leaned back low, my stick slicing through empty air. Before I could retreat, his

hard blow knocked the stick from my hand.

I stifled a cry, struggling to conceal my frustration. “If it had been with the bow, I would have beaten you with both of my eyes closed.” Grabbing a bun from the basket, I

tossed it to him.

He caught it but offered it to me at once. “Here, you have it.”

“It’s your prize.” Picking up a pear, I sank my teeth into its ripe flesh, its sweet and fragrant juice filling my mouth.

When he tried to give it to me again, I shook my head. “Do you want to challenge me for the right not to eat it?” I asked archly.

He shot me an icy look before biting into the soft bread.

It smelled delicious, the rich fragrance of roasted pork wafting toward me.

“Make sure you don’t choke on it,” I said with an unfeigned smile.

Hunger was a small price to pay for the irate expression that flashed across his face. I had lost the match yet somehow gained the advantage. Gazing into the overcast sky, I marveled at how everything seemed more beautiful.

Even the rain clouds were no longer gloomy and threatening, instead imbued with dark majesty.

After we had eaten, he poured me a cup of wine. As the delicate fragrance of osmanthus sprang in the air, I stilled, recalling a forest of moon-white blossoms.

My fingers clenched around the cup as I lifted it in a toast. “May you always be happy.”

His gaze rested on me. “If I’m always as happy as I am now, that would be the best wish of all.”

The wine slid down my throat with a heady warmth. After we had drained our cups, he refilled them and raised his to me in turn. “May all your dreams come true.”

I wondered what he would think if he knew what they were. For a long time, my dreams were about regaining what I had lost in the past. However, since last night, or

perhaps even before—a hope for the future had taken root in my heart.

“What are your dreams?” he asked, just as he did

yesterday, as though he had plucked the thoughts from me. “To be with my loved ones,” I said, after a pause. It was

the truth, but the hollow type which was gilded in deceit.

As his eyes darkened and he leaned closer, my breathing quickened.

“But I’ll settle for beating you today.” I blurted the first thing in my mind, cursing myself when he drew away.

He clasped his hands behind his head as he lay down on the grass. “Care to make good on your big words from

earlier?”

“Why not? I won’t take it easy on you just because it’s your birthday.” I was not as confident as I sounded; I had never shot blindfolded before.

A golden bow materialized on the ground before us, exquisitely carved with feathers curling along its limbs.

“I wanted to show this to you,” Liwei said as he rose to his feet. “One of the most powerful weapons in our

treasury. This might be a good chance to test it.”

I picked it up, my fingers tingling where they touched the metal. “Where are the arrows?”

Liwei moved behind me, our bodies mere inches apart.

With his arms stretched out on each side of me, he guided me to raise the bow and draw its silvery string. My pulse raced and my head spun. I would miss any target in our

current position, even if it were five paces away.

A flaming arrow formed in my grasp, crackling as though alive. Startled, I would have dropped the bow but Liwei’s

grip tightened over mine. When we finally loosened our hold over the string, the arrow vanished.

“There are few weapons as powerful in existence. Each arrow from the Phoenix Fire Bow can cause grave injury with just a single strike. But only those with a strong

lifeforce can wield such a weapon effectively,” he cautioned.

I stared at the bow, recalling the faded cover of the

mortal book. Was it true, that my father had used a bow of

ice to bring down the sunbirds? An enchanted weapon from the Immortal Realm?

“Could someone with a weak lifeforce, a mortal perhaps, use such a weapon?” I asked.

He pondered the question. “Magical items possess their own power. Most of them can be used by anyone. Even mortals. However, the stronger its user, the more powerful the item becomes—as it draws its user’s energy to augment and replenish its own. If this bow is wielded by one with a weak lifeforce, not only would they find it difficult to control, but its might would be greatly diminished.”

“How does this bow draw our energy? It doesn’t feel any different from the others.”

He leaned closer, his breath coiling into my ear. “A

weapon such as the Phoenix Fire Bow forms a connection with its user, seamlessly absorbing his or her energy. This makes it powerful, but also dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” I repeated, trying to think of anything but the heat from his body melding with my own.

“Dangerous, because in the tumult of battle, the users of such weapons may not realize how much energy has been expended. Until it’s too late,” he said gravely.

I swallowed hard, recalling Teacher Daoming’s stern

warning never to drain myself. Stepping out of his arms, I passed the bow to him. “You, first.”

“Did you have a challenge in mind?” he asked. “How about one of skill, not speed this time?” I

suggested, thinking about my prior loss.

He bent down to pick up two withered peach blossoms. As his magic swirled over them, their color bloomed once more, the petals gleaming like they were sculpted from

rose quartz. “Whoever shoots it down from the farthest distance will be the winner.”

I took one of the flowers from his palm, now as hard as stone.

Gone was his teasing demeanor as he stared ahead with narrowed eyes, the bow raised, its string drawn. At his nod, I released the first blossom. It shot up, hurtling away faster than a hummingbird, spinning through the air. Several seconds passed, the flower now a speck in the horizon.

With a twang, Liwei’s arrow plunged forward, shattering the petals in a burst of fiery sparks.

An excellent shot. I was unsure if I could surpass it,

blindfolded as I would be. It was on the tip of my tongue to retract my earlier boast, to demand a match on equal terms

—but I quelled the impulse as I took the bow. Eager to test its might, I ran my fingers over the gleaming string, stiffer than those woven from silk.

As Liwei tied the white cloth over my eyes, his knuckles brushed my cheeks. A distraction I could ill afford, as I

inhaled deeply to clear my mind.

Once ready, I nodded. A low thrum broke the quiet, a

faint whirling, fading with every passing moment. Almost

imperceptible now, yet still I waited, straining my ears. At the precise moment it slipped into silence, my arrow

sprang free—whistling through the air, striking with a clink. Something shattered, catching fire with a hiss.

I raised my hand to tug the blindfold down, but strong arms encircled me, the scent of sun-warmed grass

drowning my senses. His lips crushed mine, pressing them apart, his warm breath threaded with the lingering sweetness from the wine. I shivered, not from the cold, but the heat surging through my veins. Clutching his shoulders, I held him closer to me still. His mouth slid lower, trailing a scorching path down my neck with a hunger that left me breathless. With my free hand I pulled the cloth away,

blinking at the sudden brightness. We fell onto the ground, the carpet of petals softer than any bed . . . my body alight with a thousand glittering sensations.

The first drops of rain were soft and frail, easily brushed aside. But they soon swelled to a torrential flood,

impossible to ignore. We lay on the ground, letting the rain wash over us, drenching us as thoroughly as though we had swum in the river.

Our breaths were heavy and uneven, our fingers tangling in the wet grass.

“Who won?” I asked, drifting back to the present.

He shot me an incredulous look. “At a time like this, that is what concerns you?”

“I won.” I answered my own question with a contented sigh.

“What makes you think so?”

“If you had won, you wouldn’t have distracted me. You would have rubbed it in my face. Mercilessly.”

He raised himself up on an elbow to stare at me. “Is that what you believe?” he asked in an aggrieved tone. “Very well. The kiss had nothing to do with how you looked when you drew the bow and hit the mark, even though it had

already disappeared.” He shook his head. “Why did I fall in

love with someone who takes such pleasure in grinding my pride into the dust?”

My lips parted in disbelief. “You . . . love me?” “After all our time together, did I have a choice?”

I laid my palm against his chest, in no mood for flippancy. “Are you serious?”

The light in his eyes blazed a path to my heart, as his hand reached out to capture mine. “Yes.”

As a child, my mother had cautioned me against looking directly at the sun, telling me the brightness of its glare

could blind me. Perhaps it was something her own mother had told her. While it might be true for mortals, I now

doubted such a thing could harm an immortal’s sight. Still, her warning stuck—whenever I saw the fiery orb in the sky I would instinctively turn or shield myself. Today, I had

finally dared to gaze at the sun, allowing its radiance to blaze through me unhindered, spilling through my veins until I was aglow. Never did I imagine such luminous joy existed, and never again would I be content to remain in the shadows.

After the downpour, the sky was clear once more. Liwei summoned a cloud to take us home, and on the way, we

dried our clothes. Had we returned in our sodden state, we would have given rise to prying questions and unwanted gossip. As we flew back to the Jade Palace, my spirits were lighter than the clouds we passed.

In my room, I sank onto my bed in a dreamlike daze. Rest was far from my mind as the exhilaration coursing through me smothered all hope of sleep. When someone knocked, I opened the doors to find an attendant holding out a roll of paper, bound with silk cord.

“His Highness asked me to give this to you.”

As I took the paper and thanked him, he added, “Someone is waiting for His Highness outside.”

Wondering who it might be, I entered the courtyard to find a girl sitting in the pavilion. Her aura was warm and

light, though it pulsed with strength, too. She was

startlingly pretty with slender, upturned eyes in a heart-

shaped face, and delicate features. Rose silk draped her tall frame, and her dark hair was held up by gold hairpins from which strands of rubies cascaded, glowing with inner flame. I bowed to her in greeting. Was she a courtier’s daughter, or one of the empress’s favored ladies?

“Is Prince Liwei here?” Her voice was gentle and sweet.

A sliver of unease pricked my heart, but I gave her a pleasant smile. “His Highness is with Their Celestial

Majesties.” As her shoulders drooped, I added, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I have a gift for His Highness, but I can give it to him later.” The girl glanced down at the half-finished painting of a peach blossom tree on the table. A few brushes were

soaking in a pitcher of water and a porcelain tray lay

beside it, still wet with paint. Liwei must have worked on this just a short while ago.

“Is this Prince Liwei’s work?” She traced the outline of the branches. “It’s beautiful.”

“His Highness has many skills,” I said.

As she rose to leave, her elbow knocked over a paintbrush. Dark green paint splattered across the artwork.

She gasped as she pulled out a silk handkerchief, dabbing furiously at the paper. I rushed forward to help her, jostling the pitcher. It tipped over, water spilling onto the table,

soaking the artwork in moments. Of the once exquisitely

painted tree, only dark green smudges could be seen in the sodden mess.

Her fingers twisted her handkerchief into knots, her throat working with words she did not speak.

“It might have been the wind,” I said solemnly.

She blinked at me. “Or a bird,” she agreed quickly. Our eyes met in a profound moment of understanding.

Shortly after, she left, turning around once to stare at the courtyard.

Back in my room, I unrolled the piece of paper from Liwei. It was a painting of me, standing beneath a

flowering tree—an arrow drawn through my bow, poised in the moment before flight. My gaze was intent on the target, my mouth set in determination, my back straight and tall.

My pulse quickened, to think he saw me this way—strong and, somehow, beautiful.

At the bottom of the paper, a message was written in his bold brushstrokes:

You may have won the challenge, but not the greatest prize.