The Hall of Eastern Light had no ceiling, opening to the
starlit sky. Its white stone walls were streaked with veins of pure gold, while the floor was paved with jade tiles carved into flowers. Glowing crystal pillars illuminated the room, as did the hundreds of silk lanterns strung between them in fiery shades of crimson and vermilion. The fragrance of
rare blossoms perfumed the air, mingling with the delicious aromas from the food piled onto the rosewood tables.
Coveted Immortal Peaches were stacked high on silver platters, to be distributed at the discretion of the Celestial Empress. Just one of these peaches, creamy ivory with a
divine blush, had the power to strengthen an immortal’s lifeforce or prolong a mortal’s life.
Even in the Celestial Kingdom such decadence was rare.
The richly dressed guests greeted each other effusively, flushed with excitement and wine. I had only just arrived and already, I was lost in this sea of strangers.
Someone tapped my shoulder. It was General Jianyun, for once without his armor, a long coat of silver brocade
draped over his gray robe. I cupped my hands and bowed, relieved to see someone I knew.
“Is this your first banquet?” he asked. “Yes. His Highness invited me tonight.”
A brief silence followed. “Well? Have you given any thought to my offer?” he asked bluntly.
My eyes fixed onto a jade tile as I fumbled for an answer.
Oh, I would have snatched at this opportunity before. But now, a new fear pulsed through me at the thought of being separated from Liwei—for weeks, maybe months at a stretch. It was not that he had displaced my mother . . . but rather my heart was cleaved in two, when once it had been whole. I would do it, I knew I would—yet selfishly, I wanted a little more time here. Our love was too new, too precious to risk lightly.
I would speak to Liwei tonight, I resolved. After the festivities, I would tell him what I could without revealing my mother’s name. He would understand, he would not press me for more. And perhaps, together, we would find our way.
“General Jianyun, perhaps we should not talk of such matters on His Highness’s birthday.” I hoped he would allow me this delay.
His brows bunched with displeasure, but he nodded as he glanced around the crowded room. “Do you recognize any of these peacocks here?”
A strangled laugh burst from my throat, which I attempted to disguise with a cough.
“I’ve been in the army too long. I don’t flatter or say things I don’t mean. Take my word for it, this lot of courtiers are only good for dressing in fine feathers and chirping empty compliments.”
General Jianyun’s lip curled with distaste as he jerked his head at a man in front of us. “That one though, is more of a cunning crow. The emperor’s loyal advisor, yet his advice is often self-serving.”
It was rare for General Jianyun to speak so disparagingly of another, and I wondered who had earned his contempt. I could not see the man’s face, just his fine purple robe and the pale gloves that covered his hands—an uncommon
accessory which struck me at once. It was Minister Wu, who swung around as though sensing our eyes upon him. He ignored me, his lips pinched as he bowed to General Jianyun. The sight of the minister turned my stomach,
stirring anew old misery and terror.
So wrapped up was I in my thoughts, I almost collided into the tall immortal who stopped before us, the
embroidered bamboo leaves on his robe rustling in emerald silk. A gray sash was tied around his waist, his hair pulled into a glossy topknot secured with an ebony pin. His aura
rushed over me; cool and fresh, yet dense and strong. Like an autumn wind thick with crushed leaves and rain. His black eyes swept over me with little interest before he
greeted General Jianyun, cupping his hands together and stretching them out as he bowed.
The stranger drew the general aside, which gave me the opportunity to study him further. He carried himself with
the assurance of authority, yet he appeared not much older than I—unless he was one of those powerful immortals,
concealing a thousand years with his lifeforce. His face was arresting; high cheekbones with a strong jaw and a well- formed, if somewhat stern mouth. I did not recall seeing
him at the training field, but I doubted he was a courtier
from the way his eyes flicked impatiently around the room as though such gaiety bored him.
I took a step forward, intending to excuse myself. There was little enjoyment in being excluded, relegated to no
more than a piece of furniture, though navigating this crowd alone daunted me, too.
General Jianyun started as though he had forgotten my presence. “Ah, Xingyin. Have you met Captain Wenzhi?”
The celebrated commander? One of the finest warriors in the kingdom, despite being just a hundred years older than me? Yet before I could greet him, he turned away abruptly as though eager for me to be gone. He was insufferable, I decided, biting down on my tongue. Trying not to let his
discourtesy bother me, even as I was furious with myself for ever having wanted to meet him.
“Xingyin is the Crown Prince’s companion,” added General Jianyun.
The arrogant young captain swung to me then, his face alight with sudden interest. “The one who trains with His Highness? The archer?”
“Yes,” I replied curtly, still stung by his earlier rudeness. “I only returned a few days ago. I saw you yesterday, in
the field, when you shot those discs. I’ve never seen such fine marksmanship before.” A smile hovered on his lips.
I blinked, finally recognizing him. The tall soldier who had clapped first.
His gaze slid over the azure silk of my dress, the creamy magnolias with golden centers embroidered on my skirt. A green brocade belt, shot through with silver, was tied
around my waist. Tucked in my hair was the pin Liwei had gifted me.
“I apologize for not recognizing you earlier. In this dress, you look . . .” His voice trailed off, the tips of his ears reddening.
“Like a useless peacock?” I finished his sentence for him, with a grin at General Jianyun.
Captain Wenzhi did not laugh. “I meant to say, in this dress you don’t look like the warrior you are.”
His compliment filled me with unexpected pleasure.
Perhaps he was not as insufferable as I had thought. “Would you like to sit with us?” he invited.
I accepted gladly. I had just caught a glimpse of Lady Meiling’s father and was as keen to keep my distance from him as he was from me.
Our table was in the front with a clear view of the dais.
There, a rosewood table was set before the white jade thrones, flanked by smaller ones on each side. Tonight, the visiting royalty were honored by being seated alongside
Their Celestial Majesties, though they had yet to make an appearance.
A hush fell over the room then. The air thrummed with power as the royal family entered, everyone scrambling to fall to their knees. I lifted my head an inch to catch a
glimpse of the emperor who had imprisoned my mother.
Even surrounded by the most powerful immortals of the realm, the Celestial Emperor dazzled. His aura blazed with impenetrable might; that of a stone mountain, an endless glacier. Scarlet and azure dragons were embroidered upon his brilliant yellow robes, darting through swirling clouds. The ornate gold frame of his crown was set into a jewel-
encrusted base, from which strands of lustrous pearls cascaded. They swayed before his brow, catching the light with his every move. His face was ageless, even for an immortal, his smooth skin bearing neither the vitality of
youth nor the cares of time. In the darkness of his pupils, I found a fragment of resemblance to his son—though their opaque depths were devoid of warmth. He did not look
particularly terrifying, but something about him turned my insides to ice.
Liwei stopped before me, inclining his head in greeting.
Yet his smile was guarded and his eyes, dulled. Did he wish himself back in his room? I wanted to ask him, but not here. Not now. Just by acknowledging my presence he had flouted the protocol that required him to greet the honored guests first. As he walked away, my pulse fluttered as I
stared after him like some moon-eyed girl. He looked
magnificent tonight, his coat of midnight brocade parted to reveal his silver-white robe, shining as though woven from starlight. His hair was pulled into a gold and sapphire crown, held in place by an ornate pin.
“The monarchs of the Four Seas.” General Jianyun
nodded toward the dais, mistaking my keen interest. “It’s rare to see them together. Relations have been strained
since the Western and Northern Sea’s support of the
Demon Realm. However, that is in the past; perhaps this heralds a new beginning.”
Each of them wore flowing robes in varying shades of
blue and green, but there the resemblance ended. The King of the Eastern Sea’s long hair glistened as spun silver
against his dark skin, while the Queen of the Southern Sea’s green eyes gleamed from her pale face. The
remaining two monarchs sat stiffly upon their chairs, one wearing a crown of coral, the other of turquoise and pearl.
“Who sits beside them?” I stared at the striking immortal with jeweled blossoms sparkling from the coils of her hair.
“The Flower Immortal. Our exquisite gardens are the results of her endeavors. I’ve seen her revive a withered garden with a flick of her wrist, although she’s not as
powerful as her predecessor,” General Jianyun remarked. “What happened to her predecessor?” It was rare for an
immortal to surrender their position.
“Lady Hualing chose to live away from the Celestial Kingdom, in the Eternal Spring Forest. A place she
cultivated to her liking.”
I waited for him to continue—curious about this immortal
—but he fell silent, drumming his fingers on the table.
Captain Wenzhi spoke then. “The Celestials don’t like to speak of her. Perhaps it reminds them of what can happen to even the most powerful, should they lose the emperor’s favor.”
General Jianyun scowled. “Even such as you from the Four Seas would not wish to anger our emperor.”
I was about to ask Captain Wenzhi which of the Four Seas he was from, when he spoke again. “It was said Lady
Hualing grew distracted and neglected her duties for decades, until the court petitioned His Celestial Majesty to take away her position. Since then, she has not been seen. Not for hundreds of years.”
I wondered, why did the emperor not remove Lady
Hualing from her duties sooner, when he seemed not to
tolerate the slightest disobedience in others? But then all heads swung to the entrance, eager whispers rustling
through the crowd. I turned to see two immortals approaching the dais.
“Queen Fengjin and her daughter, Princess Fengmei, from the Phoenix Kingdom,” Captain Wenzhi told me.
Her name hit me like a blow. The princess rumored to have been betrothed to Liwei? Gleaming cloaks of gold feathers were clasped around their shoulders, over their long robes of crimson brocade studded with pearls. A
crown of fire rubies glittered on the queen’s hair. When the princess lifted her head, something in my chest contracted. She was the girl I had met in the courtyard earlier, my partner in the inadvertent destruction of Liwei’s painting.
The empress greeted them warmly, rising as she gestured to their seats. Something coiled tight around my heart
when the princess took the chair beside Liwei, who sat there with a face carved from stone.
I breathed deeply, determined to keep my spirits high. Fortunately, General Jianyun knew plenty of interesting facts about the noble guests and did not hesitate to share them. For the most part, Captain Wenzhi was silent but solicitous of my needs, ensuring my wine cup was always full and placing the choicest delicacies on my plate.
Whenever I looked up, I found Liwei staring at me. As the night progressed, his expression grew darker than a moonless night, more thunderous than a spring storm. At this moment he appeared more fearsome than the Celestial Empress.
Captain Wenzhi leaned toward me. “Why is His Highness glowering at you?”
“You must be mistaken,” I said quickly, trying to conceal my discomfort.
The look he shot me was one of disbelief. But then he shrugged. “In that case, he must be staring at me.”
Perhaps it was the wine loosening my tongue or the
informal way he spoke, as I replied, “Do you think your appearance so pleasing? Not everyone is struck with
admiration at the sight of you.”
“I would be interested to hear what you think of me.” His brows were arched in a seeming challenge.
“Even if it does not please you?”
“Especially, if so,” he said, his voice deepening.
I laughed, a hollow sound—unable to banish this feeling of unease, that something was not quite right. Why was
Liwei glowering at me? There was no other way to describe his clamped lips and his eyes, burning like coals into mine.
Unfortunately, the empress noticed it, too. She crooked her finger at me, the pointed gold sheath glinting in the light. Only now did I realize that these were no mere ornaments, but Phoenix Talons, said to be laced with a
potent poison.
Dragging myself to my feet, I walked to the front of the dais and knelt, awaiting her command.
Her piercing gaze reminded me of a hawk swooping
down upon its prey. “Your hairpin is lovely, a rare treasure indeed. Where did you obtain it from?” The softness in her tone sheathed the dagger in her words.
Heat rushed into my cheeks as I fumbled for a response.
A polite reply, a witty remark, anything but the yawning silence implying guilt where there was none.
Liwei rose and clasped his hands before him, folding over in a bow. “Honorable Mother, it was my gift to her.”
“You’re fortunate that my son is so generous. How do you plan to repay such kindness?” Her red lips parted in a mirthless smile. “Today is my son’s birthday. What gift did you bring him? I can only hope it is one of equal worth.”
Liwei raised his voice. “Honorable Mother, there is no need for this. If this offends you in any way, I ask that you speak to me alone.”
She ignored him, the covers on her nails glinting as she tapped them on the armrest. She meant to humiliate me, announcing to everyone that I did not belong here. But I
was not ashamed—I was furious. Not just for myself, but for her threats to my mother, her failed attempt to ruin my father, her selfishness in not reining in the sunbirds until
tragedy had struck.
No, I would not flinch from her stare, I would not cower from her condescension. I lifted my head, a bright smile on my face. “I have given His Highness my gift. However, if
you wish me to share it, I would be pleased to oblige you.” She stared at me as though I were the lowliest of insects.
With an imperious nod, she gestured for me to proceed.
I drew the flute from my pouch, my fingers as cold as the jade in my hands. My tongue flicked over my dry lips as I
stole a glance at the crowd, beginning to regret the reckless words that had gotten me here. Some guests
appeared bored, while others glowed in anticipation of my encroaching humiliation. How could I perform before such an audience? I could barely breathe, my ribs clenching as though they were squeezed together. Behind me, footsteps clicked against the floor as someone approached. It was
Captain Wenzhi, carrying a stool, which he placed before me.
Bending down, he whispered in my ear, “When the battle lines are drawn, advance with a clear mind.”
I swallowed hard, nodding to him in thanks. His words were a comfort to my debilitating fear. To retreat now
would indeed be worse than failure. I would rather the empress think my performance lacking than believe me to be a coward or liar. I sank onto the stool, grateful to sit and hide my shaking legs. Drawing a deep breath, I lifted the flute to my mouth. The empress, the emperor, the royal guests blurred from my vision; all I saw were Liwei’s eyes
looking into mine. This was his song, and to him alone I
played. My notes soared clear, strong, and true—reflecting every emotion he had ever evoked in me.
The moment it ended, I bowed to the dais and fled back to my seat. I wished I could disappear into the ground amid the silence, punctured by a smattering of applause from
those who had not yet realized the expression on the empress’s face was not admiration, but rage—boiling over like a pot left too long on a stove. My anger had cooled and I worried how she would retaliate. Not now, but later—she
would not forget this insult. I had done nothing except what she had asked and yet, we both knew my defiance lay in
refusing to let her make a fool of me. While she was the Celestial Empress, she was also Liwei’s mother. Through my rashness and pride, I had tangled further the ties
between us.
I tried to catch Liwei’s attention, but then the sweets were brought out, the guests murmuring in delight. The
confections were exquisite—almond cakes pressed into the shapes of flowers, golden squares of osmanthus jelly, crisp sesame balls, and a rainbow assortment of puddings—but my appetite had vanished.
The empress whispered to her husband, who nodded once. His deep voice rumbled across the sudden hush in the hall. “Tonight, we come together to celebrate the
birthday of our son, Crown Prince Liwei. As it happens, this is a double celebration. We are just as delighted to
announce his betrothal to Princess Fengmei of the Phoenix Kingdom. May they forever be of one mind and find
everlasting happiness together.”
As though in a trance, my hand moved of its own volition, joining the others in raising our cups to our lips. I did not
taste what I drank, if it were anything at all. The emperor’s announcement slid into me as a blade to my chest, twisting cruelly when it struck. I heard nothing beyond the roaring in my mind—not the cheers from the guests springing to their feet, nor the clapping which resounded throughout
the hall. My fingers curled on the table, my nails scratching the polished wood. Tears pricked my eyes but I fought them back, biting down on the inside of my cheek until the warm taste of metal and salt filled my mouth.
A wedding was a joyous occasion, believed to bring luck. As the guests fought to outdo each other in lavishing praise upon the couple, I sat numbly in my seat without the
strength to even flee.
“What a harmonious combination of pearl and jade!” “The Phoenix Princess and the Dragon Prince, an
auspicious pairing indeed!”
“See their beauty? Truly a match made in heaven!”
Each word was a stab to my festering wound. I glanced up at Liwei in disbelief, half expecting him to leap to his
feet in denial. To tell me this was just a cruel prank. He did not look at me, though, and his eyes were wintry, devoid of light. Worse yet, he accepted the congratulations from the guests with a terse nod. Princess Fengmei blushed at the
attention and when she touched Liwei’s arm, my insides shriveled as a dry leaf dropped into the flames.
This was real; he was betrothed to another. A desperate urge to leave gripped me. I wanted to be alone, to let my grief pour from me as a river into the ocean. But I crushed the craven impulse. I would not run, nor would I hide. Just when I thought I would surely collapse from the pain, a
hand covered mine—firm and strong—the cool touch
penetrating my daze. Lifting my head, my gaze collided
with Captain Wenzhi’s, alight with understanding. He was a stranger whom I had met just this evening, but right now
he was my only anchor in this raging tempest. I accepted his silent comfort, clutching his fingers—feeling as empty as a discarded wine vessel which had been tipped over,
spilling its contents into the uncaring soil.
