Sunlight streamed through the crystal pillars, casting hundreds of tiny rainbows upon the carved tiles. As a cool breeze wound through the Hall of Eastern Light, the
curtain of jade beads clinked gently behind the thrones.
The full court was in attendance today, the weight of all their eyes upon me as I knelt on the ground. Stretching my arms out, I folded my body over, pressing my brow and palms to the floor in a formal obeisance to the Celestial Emperor and Empress.
“Rise,” the emperor intoned.
Slowly, I uncoiled my legs, lifting my head to the thrones.
Today, Their Celestial Majesties were resplendent in
imperial yellow brocade. Lustrous pearls cascaded from the emperor’s crown, while on the empress’s hair rested a gold and ruby headdress shaped like the wings of a phoenix.
Beside them, stood Liwei. His high-collared robe was of midnight blue brocade, embroidered with golden herons among swirling white clouds. A belt of jade links was
clasped around his waist and his topknot was encased in a sapphire crown.
I searched his face, relieved to find no trace of his injuries from the Eternal Spring Forest. I had been too nervous to seek him out before. Afraid, even. In that dank
cavern where death courted us both, I had laid my heart bare. While I meant every word—in the light of day without the danger looming over us—the memory of my boldness
scorched me. But I had no regrets. I understood now that before I could embrace my future, I had to release myself from the binds of the past.
My gaze shifted to Wenzhi who stood by the side of the hall. He gave me a reassuring nod as I smiled, warmed by the recollection of his care since my return—commanding the healers to attend to me, bringing me rare herbs and medicines to hasten my recovery. His constant presence
brought the rumors surrounding us to a fevered pitch. But after what I had just been through, I cared not what
wagging tongues might say. And I could no longer claim these were mere rumors alone.
The Celestial Empress’s lips were pursed like she had
bitten into an unripe kumquat. While Liwei’s eyes blazed so bright, I found it hard to look away. Behind me, whispers
drifted in the air, my name repeated in hushed tones. I was not alone in wondering why I had been summoned today.
The Celestial Emperor spoke then. “First Archer, you have performed a great service to our kingdom. Our son would have perished without your aid, and he spoke at
length of your deeds. Princess Fengmei has also expressed her gratitude for your rescue of her. We commend your
courage and valor, and we thank you for your protection of our son and his betrothed.”
I smiled tightly as I bowed in acknowledgment. Such gracious praise from the Celestial Emperor was rarer than the moon eclipsing the sun. Yet despite his words, his face remained cold and expressionless. If he was relieved by his son’s escape or affected by Lady Hualing’s death, I saw no trace of it.
“First Archer Xingyin, hear my command.”
How strange it was to hear my name spoken by the emperor. My body tensed as silence shrouded the court like
a blanket of snow. Something clinked, gasps swelling
through the air. I looked up to find the Celestial Emperor
had stretched his hand out to me, an oblong piece of blood- red jade resting upon his palm.
“I grant you the Crimson Lion Talisman.” He paused,
letting his words sink in. “Ask a favor for yourself and we will grant it, as long as it’s in our power to do so.”
An attendant rushed up to him, bearing a black lacquered tray. The emperor placed the talisman upon it, the
attendant now advancing toward me with measured steps, stopping before me to offer up the tray. My hands were stiff as I took the jade, staring at it numbly. A lion was carved in its center, its bulbous eyes and curling mane chiseled with exquisite detail. From its base, hung a thick tassel of gold silk.
The emperor’s voice rumbled through the chamber, yet I only caught snatches of what he said. My heart slammed until I thought it might burst forth. Had I heard him correctly? Was this really the Crimson Lion Talisman? He spoke so coolly, as though what he offered was just a
common parcel of land or a chest of gold. As though this was not the fulfillment of my greatest dream, which I had all but given up on!
Glancing up, I found the emperor staring at me expectantly. Did he expect joyous weeping, or
proclamations of eternal gratitude? Certainly not this yawning silence, my sudden trepidation robbing me of voice. I had only one wish . . . and it was not one which would please him.
“Do you need time to think this through?” A sharpness jutted through his tone—impatience, perhaps. Or was it a warning not to overstep myself?
Fear assailed me that I might lose this chance. The words surged up my throat, flying out in a strangled gasp, “My
mother!”
A hush swept across the crowd. I drew a shaking breath, trying to steady my jangled nerves. “My wish is for Your
Celestial Majesty to free my mother.” I spoke slower this time, as clearly as I could.
The empress’s eyes curved as a predator’s claws. “Your mother? Who might that be?”
The malice in her tone gave me pause. My wish would undoubtedly incite their fury. Their Celestial Majesties
would hate to appear the fool, deceived by the powerless Moon Goddess for all these years. What if I revealed all, only to have them deny my request and inflict greater
punishment upon her?
I dropped to my knees again, bending my head. “Your
Celestial Majesty, my mother did not ask this of me. This is all my own doing. I humbly ask for your assurance that she will not be punished for my actions, or for anything I reveal today.”
“How dare you make demands of us!” the empress hissed.
The air thickened with a sudden chill. If I were a common petitioner, the emperor might have sentenced me to imprisonment—or worse—for my temerity. Yet the jade
clutched in my fist reminded me that I had earned the right to speak today through my blood, sweat, and tears.
“Very well,” the emperor said in an icy tone. “You have my word that your mother will be safe. However, you
yourself will have no such protection should we discover that you have offended us in any way. You will answer for your own actions.”
His threat sapped my courage. An urge to slink away gripped me, to slip into the shadows and be forgotten. Though we were parted, my mother and I were safe for now. Unharmed. Was I greedy, reaching for more than I
should? But I recalled what Wenzhi had whispered to me once, when I first stood here facing the jade thrones as I did today.
When the battle lines are drawn, advance with a clear mind.
Somehow, I had done it; I had won the talisman. Never again would I get a chance like this. I would not be a
coward now, not after everything I had done to get here. A rush of emotion coursed through me as I found the words nestled deep in my heart, the ones I had whispered to
myself each night before I slept, before I awakened each dawn.
“My mother is Chang’e. I am the daughter of the Moon Goddess.”
The whispers began, faint rustles gathering into gasps,
fervent mutterings accompanied by the nervous shuffling of feet. Liwei’s eyes went wide, his jaw clenched tight, while Wenzhi’s lips were drawn into a thin line. Those who knew me best, those who trusted me most, those I had kept in
the dark. How betrayed they must feel by my confession. “The Moon Goddess?” The empress spat each word. “If
Chang’e is your mother, who is your father?”
Fear clouded my heart, like ink billowing from a brush dipped into water. My father had killed the sunbirds, her
beloved kin. But my anger at her crude insinuation prodded me into raising my chin to meet her gaze, to speak with less care and more pride than I should have.
“My father is my mother’s husband, the mortal archer Houyi.”
The moment those words were spoken aloud, the tension knotted deep inside me for all these years unraveled. A lightness swept through me, a rush of freedom in
acknowledging my parents. I had not realized the weight of this burden until now. Yet beyond my fierce relief and pride, there was no glory in the unveiling of my identity. I had
been pitied before for my lack of family and connections— but in the eyes of this court, it was worse by far to be
tarnished by association with those who were disgraced.
Fury mottled the empress’s fair skin. Her knuckles were white, the gold sheaths on her fingers digging into the
armrest of her throne.
The Celestial Emperor broke the stillness first. “Explain yourself.” His tone was grim and the way he looked at
me . . . it reminded me of the moment when Liwei plunged his sword through my chest.
All knew the tale of the ten sunbirds. But none knew the truth behind the Moon Goddess’s ascension to immortality.
To the hostile audience hanging on to my every word, I
retold the story I had heard once before. The danger to my mother’s life and mine. Her heartbreaking choice. The terror that had led her to conceal my existence. I could not help the tears pricking my eyes, when I spoke of the sorrow which had haunted my mother every day of her immortal life.
When I finished, I pressed my brow to the jade tiles again, swallowing my pride and resentment for this chance to be heard. “For all these years, my mother has been a prisoner, living in loneliness and misery. She took the elixir to save our lives. She was unaware that she had broken any rule, how could a mortal know such a thing? I plead for Your Celestial Majesties’ mercy and understanding, to
forgive my mother’s transgression and lift her punishment. This is the favor I ask for.”
I raised myself, placing my shaking palms upon my folded knees. My gaze collided with the Celestial Emperor’s,
utterly unmoved by my heartfelt plea.
The empress pointed a finger at me, almost convulsing with rage. “Such deceit cannot be tolerated. This family line, from Chang’e and Houyi to this . . . this girl is a treacherous one, riddled with lies, duplicity, ingratitude. It should be ended at once.”
The glorious hope that had sprung up a moment ago, shriveled and died. Yet silence greeted the empress’s
words. There were no enthusiastic cries of support, only a few nodded—and for that I was grateful.
Someone strode out from the side, sinking to the floor to perform his obeisance. A courtier, I could tell, from his
ceremonial hat and black robe, and the yellow jade
ornament dangling from his waist sash. A high-ranking one to be positioned so close to the thrones, though I could not see his face from where he knelt in front of me.
“Your Celestial Majesty, may I offer my opinion?”
Those silken tones, the back of his profile, jostled my memory then. Where had I met this immortal before?
The emperor leaned back against his throne. “Rise, Minister Wu, and speak your mind. Your counsel is valued.”
My heart plunged. Minister Wu? I should not have been surprised; he seemed ever entwined with my most
challenging times here. This close, his aura pulsed around me, as dense and opaque as a bottomless lake.
The minister bowed again, before rising to his feet. When he swung around, I flinched from the hostility in his expression. “Your Celestial Majesty, neither Chang’e nor her daughter deserves your mercy. One stole your gift, the other deceived you in this contemptible manner. How
brazenly the Moon Goddess lied to Her Celestial Majesty when we visited her before! Upon your command, I will return there and apprehend her, to be tried with her daughter for their offenses. If you allow them to go
unpunished, this will set a dangerous precedent to others who will seek to take advantage of your kindness.”
His malice stunned me. In my brief encounter with the minister before, he had only regarded me with bored disinterest. He had not known who I was then, but why
should it matter? Did he despise my mortal heritage? Did
he think me unworthy to be here? Why would he utter such vicious words, carefully crafted to inflame the emperor’s suspicions and rage? Kindness? Mercy? I seethed. When
my mother had been imprisoned all these years just for drinking the elixir?
“My mother is no threat to the Celestial Kingdom,” I cried out, undoing all the good from my composed plea before. “She has harmed no one, she was only trying to protect me. She does not deserve such—”
“Enough.” The emperor spoke evenly, yet the menace which sprang from that single word was worse than any roar.
I cursed myself for my rash outburst. If he struck me down now, none would fault him for it.
In the sudden quiet, Liwei stepped down from the dais, sweeping his robe aside as he dropped to his knees beside me. He threw me a warning glare before speaking, his
voice exuding a steady calm. “Honorable Father, Mother. I owe First Archer Xingyin my life. She risked herself to
come to my aid, far beyond duty and honor. If not for her, I would be dead. Princess Fengmei, a hostage still. Our
kingdom would be thrown into disarray. As your dutiful son, I must remind you that because of her valiant deeds, the
First Archer was granted the Crimson Lion Talisman today. A royal favor, not a sentencing.”
A warmth sparked inside me. To know, that here—
surrounded by hostility and condemnation—I had a friend in him still. More than the fact I could never have spoken so eloquently, Liwei had risked his parents’ wrath by
reminding them of their promise, something no one else would have dared to do. It might not suffice to sway my fate, but to know he had done this—despite his
discomfiture at my revelation—moved me deeply.
The empress glared at him so fearsomely, a less courageous man would have slunk away. As for the
expression in his father’s face—I shivered, looking away. Yet Liwei held his ground, remaining on his knees before them as humbly as any petitioner.
“This is no common favor she asks. Eternal imprisonment cannot be withdrawn on a whim.” A cunning note slipped into the empress’s voice as she added, “Moreover, the First Archer’s request is on behalf of her mother. Not herself,
which is what is due to the talisman bearer. She is more than fortunate if we don’t punish her for this deceit,
pretending to be someone she is not.”
How could she haggle over my mother’s life like it was
some trinket in the market? How dare she steal my victory
—so hard-won—and twist it into this hollow triumph? The blood I had shed, the agony I had suffered . . . I squeezed my eyes shut, stifling the urge to lash out again, to hurl my contempt and rage into their arrogant and uncaring faces.
“Her Celestial Majesty is wise,” Minister Wu agreed
smoothly. “If the First Archer’s intentions were honorable, why did she hide her identity? Who knows what trickery
she was taught by her devious mother, what plots lurk in her heart?”
Anger roiled in my veins. Insults to myself I could endure better than those aimed at my mother. I swung to the minister, my mouth opening to berate him—ill-advised, to be sure—when footsteps clicked against the stone tiles.
It was Wenzhi, sinking down beside me. “Your Celestial Majesty, please consider the First Archer’s valuable service. She has served loyally and bravely, helping us win victories which have strengthened the Celestial Kingdom. Moreover, First Archer Xingyin never outrightly deceived anyone. No one ever questioned whether she was the daughter of the goddess Chang’e and the mortal Houyi.”
A few heads nodded. It was a shrewd argument, one I wished I had thought of myself.
The Celestial Emperor’s robes rustled as he shifted on his throne. “General Jianyun, what is your opinion?”
I held my breath as the general made his way forward.
From where I knelt, I could not see his face. As the emperor’s most senior commander, the general might tilt
the scales in my favor—if he chose to do so. If he was not incensed by my admission.
“Your Celestial Majesty, First Archer Xingyin’s parentage is . . . unfortunate. However, she has been a valiant and
exceptional recruit. More importantly, she has saved the lives of His Highness and his betrothed, preserving our alliance with the Phoenix Kingdom. Such bravery should not go unrewarded, as you have graciously determined before.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “We
should appreciate the flower, regardless of its roots.”
The murmurs around the hall grew louder. I strained my ears to listen. Was it possible some were expressing
surprise at my treatment? A whisper of cautious disapproval, even?
The emperor did not speak. My pulse raced as I sensed his gaze upon me, though I dared not move as my breath misted the tiles. Would General Jianyun’s words outweigh Minister Wu’s accusations? He had spoken well, offering Their Celestial Majesties a path to pardon me in the name of magnanimity and grace. But my insides clenched at the recollection of the emperor’s mercy—which he had so
callously dispensed to my mother, Lady Hualing, and the dragons.
“First Archer Xingyin,” the emperor said finally.
I folded my body over once more, bracing myself for what would come. Trying not to think of the tortures and horrors which awaited those who had offended him.
“You are not to be blamed for the mistakes of your parents. Your merits should stand on their own. You are bequeathed the Crimson Lion Talisman for your service.”
My head sprang up, hope thrumming through me, barely held in check as I eagerly awaited the emperor’s next words.
“However, the favor you ask for—to free Chang’e, the Moon Goddess—will not be granted.”
My fingers clenched around the jade, crumpling its tassel. What use was this now? There was nothing else I wanted from the Celestial Emperor. Though I was relieved
not to be punished, there was neither respect nor gratitude in my heart. Not for this trick played upon me; my service won with false coin.
“Grant me this then, Your Celestial Majesty,” I said, emboldened by resentment. “A favor for me alone. The
right to earn my mother’s freedom through a task of your choosing.” A reckless offer, yet what did I have to lose? I would spell the terms out so clearly this time, none would doubt it again.
My behavior bordered on the insolent. Who was I to make demands of the Celestial Emperor? But instead of wrath, a cunning light gleamed in those fathomless orbs, a finger
lifted to stroke his chin. “Very well, First Archer. We
command that you perform one more task on your mother’s behalf, to rebalance her offenses against us.”
“What is the task, Your Celestial Majesty?” My words fell out in my haste. I would journey to the ends of the earth, to the Demon Realm itself to free my mother.
The emperor did not speak, holding out something to me
—a dark gray lump in his palm. I leaned closer, craning my neck. It was a seal, crafted from dull metal, with an
intricately carved dragon on the top.
Wenzhi inhaled softly, a breath of wonder. I glanced at him in surprise.
“The Divine Iron Seal will release the four dragons,
imprisoned in the mortal world for their grave crimes. Each possesses a pearl that is unique to them. I command you to retrieve the pearls from the dragons and bring them to
me.” The emperor’s tone sharpened. “If they do not obey my command, use whatever means necessary. Once the four pearls are in my possession, I will pardon your mother and you will be free to return to her.”
I recoiled, involuntarily. The Venerable Dragons! After learning of them in the Eastern Sea, I had no desire to challenge such great and noble creatures. Would the
dragons surrender their pearls freely? If they did not, could I harden myself to do what I needed to? What the emperor expected of me?
“Are we in agreement?” His voice was edged with impatience.
I swallowed my unease, letting it settle in my stomach like congealed grease. I had asked this of the emperor,
sought this chance. How could I hesitate now? Cupping my hands before me, I bowed in acceptance of his terms. The bargain was struck, as commonplace as those in the market, yet the stakes here were higher by far.
An attendant came forward, placing the seal into my
outstretched palm. The metal was cool against my skin and when I dropped it into my pouch, the silk sagged from its weight.
The emperor nodded to me. A curt dismissal which I accepted gladly. Rising to my feet, I turned from the thrones and pushed my legs forward, each step heavier than the last. Staring straight ahead, I might have
appeared indifferent to the rest of the court. Yet inside, I was a mess of writhing emotions which threatened to tear me apart. Of relief, that the truth was finally in the open, yet fury at having my hard-fought reward snatched away. Hope soared in me to be granted this second opportunity, even as it was tempered by a sinking dread . . . that the
price for my mother’s freedom might be one I could not pay.
