報復 Bàofù V: Trials of the Celestial Empress Epilogue Bound By Destiny

Ye Hua

I dream about her often, but there’s this one dream I keep having nearly every night recently.

Surrounded by peach trees, Qian Qian is in Zhe Yan’s orchard. She has a tender smile and sparkling eyes. Beckoning me closer, she calls out my name, “Ye Hua, come quick,” her lips forming the words.

My sprint towards her is met with a heavy, suffocating air. An unseen pressure is bearing down on me, making every step a struggle. The ground suddenly turns to mud, and I’m painfully slow going through the thick swamp.

Still, I’m driven forward by the sight of her.

When I am close enough to almost touch her with my fingertips, the scenery changes instantly. The lush peach trees disappear, replaced by a dark raging sea. Its furious waves crash against the shore with a thunderous roar.

My frantic heartbeat echoes the ocean’s fury. I push past the unseen barrier between us, determined to reach her. This time, it’s not the mud’s weight, but a mysterious force that makes my legs weak and buckle.

As my knees hit the ground, I feel the coarse, wet sand beneath my shaking fingers. Overwhelmed with desperation, I yell her name and plead for her to stay, but only silence answers, my voice gone.

Horrified, I watch her dissolve into the ocean’s foam, transforming into water. Her metamorphosis fills me with hopeless despair as I realize there is nothing I can do to prevent her vanishing. It is at this moment that I finally find my lost voice and let out a scream.

The scream. My scream is what wakes me.

When I open my eyes, I pat myself down, fully expecting to find myself sandy. I’m convinced my skin smells like seawater, as though I’ve been swimming in the ocean for ages, and I can taste the briny salt on my tongue.

They say; Time heals everything.

This is a lie.

This, too, shall pass.

I’m still waiting for this to pass.

After Qian Qian passed away, these expressions of condolence felt superficial, a stark contrast to genuine bereavement. Her absence grows more painful with time, not less. It’s been 50,000 years. One would think I would grow used to this, but each morning, waking up alone and realizing again she’s not by my side still hits me hard, as if it were just yesterday.

I feel like my insides have been turned out. I am still as raw as ever.

Sometimes I hear her voice like a melody that plays on repeat in my mind. Her touch, warmth, and laughter are unforgettable memories that hinder my healing, and I refuse to move on. Moving on is me letting go of my sorrow and accepting she won’t return. That is much worse than just missing her.

“Good morning, Father. How did you sleep last night?”

Clearing my throat, I wipe away the lingering traces of melancholy from my dream. Grinning, I spin, my smile broadening as I gaze upon my second daughter, Changying the gifted physician—a vision of beauty.

She has matured into a remarkably agreeable young woman with a compassionate heart and astute mind.

My daughters, like their mother, are renowned beauties, their grace and elegance a sight to behold.

They are fair-skinned like Qian Qian with glossy black hair, bright green monolid eyes, high cheekbones, and luxuriously thick, straight lashes. She and Changchang have surpassed their mother’s height.

After Qian Qian’s death, Ying’er abandoned her black clothing, now favouring youthful, elegant gowns. Though she dresses like a frivolous princess, she’s far from frivolous. At her age, she is terribly serious, much like I was

She greets me with a graceful curtsy. “Changying greets, royal father.”

Ying’er is dressed down to fit in with the mortals. She sets her medical bag and veiled hat down, the ones she uses when serving her life’s purpose as a healer, and then marches over to adjust the collar of my robe. I thought it was good enough, but she and her sister are exceedingly picky.

“Please don’t slouch or hunch over, Father. You’ll suffer from back pain when you get older.”

She motions for me to straighten my shoulders. While she’s fixing my clothes, I reach out to tousle her hair like I did when she was a child, and then she shoots me that intimidating glare with her green eyes. It makes me reconsider, and my hands timidly retreat behind my back.

Ying’er gives me a tight-lipped grin and informs me in a way that’s not bragging. She finds boasting distasteful and vulgar. “Father, good news. As of today, your harem is dissolved.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s taken 50,000 years to achieve this feat. My harem is finally devoid of occupants.

The last time I stepped foot in the inner palace was when Dongmei was still living. I’ve never paid attention to my harem. I don’t know any of the women’s names. Despite this, many refused to leave, which I found unreasonable, not understanding why a woman would waste her life waiting for a man who would never appear.

But the title of being one of the Skylord’s concubines appears to be better than being nameless.

Some women swore they loved me, which I found most humorous since I didn’t know or remember any of them. Despite this, some claimed their love for me was so profound that nothing could change their minds, but one should never say never.

Everything, love included, has a price.

“I’m a brazen father to allow you to take on such an unpleasant endeavor. Thank you, daughter. You’ve worked hard,” I say, earning a dry, cynical chuckle from Ying’er that sounds just like Qian Qian’s.

She’s done fussing with my clothes and now makes her way straight to my desk, peering over and shuffling documents around and skimming over the contents. I don’t stop her, as everything is already privy to her. She has been the most proficient at assisting with Celestial matters until A-li receives his Crown Prince seal later this month.

“I can’t take all the credit.” She replies. “I couldn’t have accomplished it without Yingpei.”

“Yingpei possesses a natural gift for persuasion. This ability will serve him well as Qingqui’s monarch,” I comment.

Ying’er, mimicking her mother, nibbles her lower lip while flipping between documents. “Yingpei is not just eloquent, but also extremely wealthy. He has a natural ability to read people, and he is discerning and calculating. He recognizes their worth, or can figure out what they think they’re worth. Then he offers a monetary figure that satisfies everyone.”

Her shuffling comes to an abrupt halt as her interest is held by a particular request from the Phoenix clan. Their eldest prince has become enamoured after seeing Ying’er at the last peach festival, and they request a meeting to discuss a marriage alliance between the Celestial and Phoenix clans.

Unlike Changchang, who wants to study for another 20,000 years before marriage, Ying’er has told me she’s ready to marry whomever I see fit to benefit our clans, but how can I possibly find anyone worthy of my daughters? When such a man doesn’t exist.

My daughters are growing up too soon.

 

Ying’er

Father’s fatigue is appropriate, given the circumstances. Since Xinlan and the White Lotus disappeared nearly a month ago, he and the others have been continuously searching for her.

He hasn’t been the same since White Lotus disappeared.

His lips curve upward slightly, stopping short of a complete smile. The heavy bags under his eyes and the drooping of his shoulders were a clear sign of exhaustion.

He’s pretending to be fine for my and everyone else’s sake, but I can sense the weariness emanating from his every pore and a disturbance in his life force.

A faint incense scent mixes with the delicate peach blossoms’ fragrance from the fruit trees he planted for mother outside. As he moves behind me, the sound of his footsteps is muffled, like a whisper in the wind, yet it still catches my attention. He sets one hand on my shoulder, the touch warm and comforting. I glance back at him, meeting his tired gaze, and notice the creases on his forehead.

His fingers drum on the desk. The Phoenix clan message is below. He silently queries my thoughts on the match. The Phoenix clan is one of the four original and ancient tribes. Such a marriage and blood tie would not only solidify alliances but also bring prosperity to both clans. I’ve seen the Phoenix Prince, but he didn’t rouse any feelings within me, and my father’s sigh.

His sighs, whenever the topic of my or my sibling’s marriage arises, are heavy enough to fill the Nine Heavens.

I’m not in a hurry. None of my siblings are. We’re not leaving his side until he’s ready to let us go.

Like everyone else, I miss my mother, and as much as I want her to come back, my siblings and I would like to see Father move on for his sake. Just as Jinghua, the mortal version of himself, let mother go because she was too young and beautiful not to be loved again, I believe mother would understand if father let another into his heart.

It’s been 50,000 years. That’s half of his life. It’s a tragedy that such a young and attractive man in his prime is unloved and pining for someone who may never come back.

“A Celestial and Phoenix blood bond is useful. It would be favorable to both clans.” I say the words flowing softly from my lips as I read my father’s body language. Sometimes what he won’t voice, his body reveals. “However, I think it would be prudent to see who else wants a marriage alliance before we decide.”

I reach back and pat his hand, feeling the unease that has been plaguing him lately, the tension in his fingers. He is prepared to revisit areas already explored in recent weeks, but he needs to take a break for himself and us and exhale the breath he’s been holding in since that day mother died.

I ask. “Father, may I ask you a favor? I’m going to the mortal realm, and I wanted some company.”

No, he tells me. My father’s refusal comes as no surprise.

His resolve, there’s one sure way to provoke, Father. I use the approach that is foolproof and say. “I understand if you’re too busy. I only asked because last time, there were lecherous men following me, and since I can’t use magic. I was feeling unsafe.”

“What?!” Father immediately responds, “How dare!? Such lecherous behavior towards my daughter is not acceptable! I will accompany you today. Hopefully, we will encounter those perverts. I will teach them a lesson they will never forget.”

 

Bai Lianhua

My birthdays are the same every year. My mother gives me money to buy celebration noodles, but she has yet to stay with me. Instead, she takes her annual pilgrimage to pray to a goddess to help us because she believes I am aging too quickly. I don’t really understand the implication behind my mother’s concerns, considering I’m just like girls my age—a typical fourteen-year-old.

“How can they be celebration noodles if I always eat alone and there’s nobody to celebrate with me?” I mumble to myself, kicking lightly the brown and grey pebbles at my toes.

Kneeling by the river, I gather flat, oval pebbles. Usually, I can make them skip at least three times, but not today. Even my hands seem to be as depressed as me and the stones feel heavy with my melancholy.

I throw them into the water one by one, the splash and plop echoing in the quiet surroundings, when I catch from the corner of my eye that I’m not alone. A gloomy, tall, slender man appears, mirroring the overcast sky.

Who does he think he is, coming to my neck of the woods and trying to look gloomier than me? I’m certain he celebrates his birthday with loved ones, not by himself. As I stand there glaring at him, feeling bitter, suddenly, I feel the uncontrollable urge to ask him. Marching up to him, I set my hands on my hips and said, “Excuse me, but I have a question.”

He peers down the center of his nose at me as if I were a bothersome mosquito and turns his nearly black eyes back, staring off into the river, ignoring me while I’m still there.

This stranger knows how to make someone feel worse than they already do. Despite his extreme rudeness, I remain undeterred. I deliberately stomp toward him, making him back away, but securing his attention.

“I notice you seem down, but could your troubles be worse than mine? I don’t think so. You see, it’s my birthday, and just like every year, I have to eat alone. What’s it feel like to be someone who is surrounded by loved ones on your special day?” I inquire.

Not only does he not respond, but he also pointedly ignores me by walking around and turning his back. What a day I’m having—can’t even strike up a conversation with strangers.

Today has not been going well for me, and it doesn’t get any better. The owner of the noodle shop, looking annoyed, refuses to serve me unless I purchase two bowls and pay upfront. Even though I should tell him off and go elsewhere, this restaurant is the best in town. Despite my urge to leave, the tantalizing scent of savory broth and spices permeating the air makes my stomach growl in protest, demanding to be fed.

“How unfair to people forced to dine alone, but fine. If that’s your attitude, I’ll order two bowls,” I grumble and huff as I take the seat at the table that just opened up.

While searching my dress pocket for my coin purse, instead of finding money, I discovered a big hole. Truly, could this day get any worse?

The grumpy voice of the noodle shop owner cuts through the bustling noise, asking, “Do you have money or not?” He wipes his hands on his apron, glancing at the other customers waiting for a table, and demands that I leave, as he needs the table for paying customers.

“Please give me a moment. It’s here somewhere.” As I fumble through my many pockets for my hidden emergency money, a sudden sound catches my attention – the clinking of coins. I turn to see the unpleasant man from the river, still with his somber expression.

As of now, he is winning our competition of gloomy faces.

He places my coin purse on the table without a word. As he turns to leave, I grab the corner of his cloak, catching the thick fabric between my fingertips. He glowers fiercely at me, fixing his gaze, boring a hole in my face. I’m sure he intimidates most with his death glare, but surprisingly, I find myself grinning back at him.

“Thank you, sir, for finding my money. Since you’re already here, why not have a bowl of noodles? I have to order two, and I can’t possibly eat that much. It’s a sin to waste food,” I suggest, trying to mask my loneliness with a light-hearted tone.

He continues to glare at me with a sour expression. Then, as if I’m infected with a contagious disease, he snatches his cloak roughly from my hands. His grimace deepens, and his strong brows end like swords. He gives one final sideways glance that speaks volumes, spins on his heels, and prepares to go.

He owes me nothing, but I complain, loud enough for him to hear me. “There’s no need to be rude to an offer for a free meal. A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed. I’m used to eating alone on my birthday.”

I punctuate my grievance with a deep, lung-emptying sigh. I expect him to leave, but he stands there for what feels like an eternity. I don’t understand why one would contemplate so deeply over something as simple as eating a bowl of noodles.

Without a spoken word, he comes back and sits across from me, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. He’s still cantankerous, yet I can’t help but smile; the joy of not eating alone on my birthday warms my face.

 

Ye Hua

Her lonely birthday dinner resonated deeply, bringing back memories of my own younger years. When I was the crown prince, following the greetings at my birthday, most guests ignored me to be recognized by my grandfather. Once everyone left, I usually dined alone.

In a random noodle shop, I find myself sitting opposite an unknown mortal girl. I thought she would be very talkative, given how she acted at the river. I expected to be hit with a barrage of questions that I don’t feel like answering. Much to my relief, she remains quiet, her eyes wide with anticipation as we wait for our food. Her fidgeting fingers drumming on the table, oddly just like Qian Qian used to do.

Perhaps it’s just a common habit.

As we wait patiently, I remind myself she is a child, close in age to my daughters, and not to act so coldly, but she doesn’t seem to notice my lack of warmth, and for this. I am thankful. The tea we drink is nothing special, but it is surprisingly refreshing. I was thirstier than I thought.

It’s not long before the server finally brings our bowls of noodles that smell delicious. Without waiting for her, which is quite rude, I promptly dug into the freshly pulled noodles dish filled with shrimp, pork, and fresh greens in a simple but flavorful chicken broth. As I’m devouring my meal as if someone is going to take it from me, I realize I can’t recall the last time I ate. I was hungrier than I realized.

This simple meal surpasses any lavish feast in flavor, as I can’t recall the last time I ate with such enthusiasm. With my eyes glued to my bowl, I dive in and savor each noisy slurp. Suddenly, from my vantage point across the table, I notice the girl leaning forward. She carefully passes on some of her noodles into my bowl, saying it’s too much for her.

While I would usually be offended by someone invading my food, her gesture doesn’t bother me now. It’s very kind and generous.

Our meal starts and ends without a word. Only after we are standing outside does she speak. Surprisingly, she doesn’t ask for my name, nor does she give me hers. She simply thanks me for making her birthday memorable and less lonely. Timidly, she suggests we make this an annual tradition, as if it is a welcome change for her not to eat alone on her birthday. If I’m available, I should meet her at the river at the same time next year.

Before departing the mortal realm with Ying’er, I realized I had forgotten to thank her for the delicious meal she had treated me to. Feeling satisfied, I take a brief rest in my study before resuming my White Lotus hunt, but to my surprise, I doze off while still fully clothed. When I wake up, my thoughts drift back to her once again.

I ponder if she might be waiting for me by the riverbank, remembering the sadness in her eyes when we first met. I decide to go back, and of course, I see her waiting for me. Her face lights up as soon as she spots me. As we walk to the noodle shop, I notice a spring in her step as she keeps pace with me, which strangely reminds me of my son, A-li. He also walks with a jaunty gait.

Since a heavenly day equals a mortal year, one day has passed for me, though a year has gone by for her. We share another meal in comfortable silence, just like before. When I pay for dinner, she insists on repaying the gesture next year, not wanting to owe anyone anything.

We say our goodbyes after a firm handshake. She inquires about the strength of her grip, emphasizing the importance of matching pressure to convey assertiveness and show she is formidable. Her quirky personality entertains me, and I chuckle as she walks away. Returning home this time, I question my reasoning for dining with a girl whose name I didn’t even know for two days in a row.

She appears to be a young woman around the same age as my daughters. I reassure myself that I am not a deviant and that I do not think of her inappropriately, but the situation feels unusual. I convince myself that it won’t happen again, only to meet her once more. This marks our third shared meal, and today, she is finally ready to strike up a conversation, despite us not having exchanged names yet.

Pointing discreetly, she mentions, “Do you see that guy and the girl sitting in the corner?”

As I glance back over my shoulder, she abruptly throws her arms in the air and scolds me in a hushed but assertive tone, “Don’t be so obvious!”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she continues, “That boy used to be my semi-boyfriend. We even kissed once – just a peck, no tongue. The girl was my best friend. He broke up with me because she has bigger breasts than anyone in the neighborhood, and she lets him feel her up.”

With a slight lift from underneath, she supports her own breasts and declares, “They are little now, but they are growing.”

She stirs her food with rough movements of her chopsticks and smirks. “They intentionally showed up to flaunt their relationship in my face, but you stopped them. Their expressions were priceless when you sat across from me. Hahaha! She can enjoy her meal with that child while I dine with a real man.”

When she says, ‘real man’, she deepens her voice.

Her hand-hidden snicker draws my attention because, despite myself, it’s endearing, but I suppress a chuckle. It’s difficult, but I do.

I have met her three times, but strangely, I have never really looked at her until now. As she lowers her hand from her face, our eyes meet for the first time.

She, my nameless noodle-eating companion, is a lovely young woman with intelligent, expressive eyes and a cheerful smile. This year, she reveals she is seventeen years old and then finally asks for my name.

“Ye Hua,” I respond.

She inquires about the characters in my name. I dip my finger into my tea and show her on the wooden tabletop.

Since she is opening up to me, I share with her. “That boy isn’t right for you; remember, inner qualities matter more than looks. Soon you’ll have many suitors at your door.”

She interrupts me, saying, “I know I am beautiful inside and out, but my mother forbids me from marrying anyone here. She says nobody is worthy of me.”

How intriguing. I suppose I’m not the only parent who worries that their children are growing up too fast or believes there isn’t a suitable man worthy of their daughter. Regardless of being immortal or mortal, all parents have the same concerns. I empathize with her mother’s sentiments.

“Every parent worries. It’s hard for us to let go when, in our eyes, you are still children,” I tell her. Maybe it’s her unique personality, reminiscent of someone I can’t quite recall, that leads me to brush the stray hairs from her face.

When I suddenly realize what I’m doing, a wave of unease washes over me as I fear she might misinterpret my gesture. In a moment of panic, I retract my hand, feeling acutely aware of my inappropriate actions. Even though she doesn’t notice, my embarrassment causes my cheeks to flush.

She is preoccupied at the moment. With her eyes darting over her shoulder, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. I follow her gaze; I see her ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, both gawking at us with expressions of disappointment and disbelief. In her mind, she has won most victoriously.

Her silently triumphant, wicked grin amuses me despite my reservations, and that smug smile lingers until we finish our meal. Today, instead of our usual casual goodbye, she hugs me, and although I do not reciprocate, she doesn’t seem bothered by it. She makes me promise to return next year on her eighteenth birthday, which she considers a special year. I don’t inquire about the reason for its significance.

Late at night, alone, I’m struck by my inconsiderateness. I suddenly realize – I still don’t know her name, and how thoughtless of me. I am aware we meet on her birthday, and I find myself regretting the fact that I haven’t given her a gift.

I retrieve a small box from my desk drawer. Inside lies a simple but delicate hairpin, crafted from pure white jade, adorned with a graceful lotus design. I don’t remember getting this item, and because I only have one, I can’t share it with Changchang or Ying’er.

As I prepare to bring it with me tomorrow, I find myself questioning why I keep meeting this girl. It’s not that I see her as a woman, but that when I’m with her, I feel less lonely. Perhaps our common loneliness forms a bond between us, yet the situation is more nuanced than I can fully explain or understand.

Suddenly, guilt floods over me. My thoughts are straying from Qian Qian. However, this realization does not prevent me from continuing to think about the mortal. When I am with her, my mind briefly shifts away from Qian Qian. In those fleeting moments when we share warm meals together, I find solace, as my heart temporarily stops hurting.

I have done nothing to warrant this feeling, but I feel unfaithful to Qian Qian. I decide not to meet the mortal again. It’s better this way rather than finding myself in a situation that is unnatural. This leads me to question myself and whether I possess a strange attraction to mortals. Why does this unknown young woman stir such profound emotions and thoughts in me?

The uncertainty of my emotions is unsettling. Am I starting to lose touch with reality? Maybe my longing for Qian Qian is causing me to behave strangely, seeking companionship with someone who resembles her, possibly a younger version. As I ponder all this, I drift off to sleep and dream of Qian Qian.

However, tonight, the dream takes an unexpected turn. I find myself in Zhe Yan’s orchard, where I stand face to face with Qian Qian holding her hands.

She looks more exquisite than I’ve ever seen her. Her peace and serenity feel as warm as sunlight on my skin after a long, harsh winter.

She presents the White Lotus I have been searching for, nestled in her hands, and asks me to cherish it once I realize who she is. She tells me to hold it close to my heart, so I embrace it, letting it settle inside my chest.

This seems to please her.

Qian Qian’s smile and nod reassure me; it feels as if she is saying everything will be alright. She then covers my eyes. Her hands fall, and in her place stands the mortal.

 

Mo Yuan

I was there when Ye Hua discovered that the White Lotus was missing. He was devastated, inconsolable, spending hours frantically searching the Qingqui Lotus ponds, convinced it was under the water and that he would locate it. I had to physically drag him out of the water when his lips turned blue and he was shivering so intensely from the cold, his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

I fear that as his search for Xinlan and the White Lotus continues, his desperation is mounting and pushing him towards a complete breakdown.

Upon my arrival in Nine Heavens, I am greeted by Ying’er with a concerned look. She mentions that Ye Hua has been at Bai Qian’s palace for most of the day, lost in thought by her bedside. This is where I find him.

Such behavior is familiar to me, and I understand his mindset all too well. I, too, did the same after Yueli’s passing during our mortal trial. Similar to me, since her death, he revisits her bedchamber, reliving their shared memories as if they are a lifeline. Unaware that these memories act as an anchor, pulling and holding him deeper in his misery.

Seeing him this way repeatedly reminds me of my guilt over keeping them apart for five hundred years.

I sit beside him, taking in the sight of his wet lashes and red-rimmed eyes. My brother’s life has led him to cry too much.

“Didi, the children and I are worried. This isn’t good for any of us.”

I offer him gentle rubs on the back, trying to comfort him. As I touch him, he releases the ragged sobs he has been holding back.

I remind him, “Bai Qian, di-mei, would not want to see you like this. It would break her heart. I know she would be furious with you for wasting your life and her sacrifice.”

More tears are streaming down his tear-stained face. I wipe them away with the back of my hand, and I tell him, “You look terrible. If Bai Qian walked in now, she might turn around and wonder where her handsome husband had gone.”

His voice trembles. “Dage, I think there is something wrong with me. I don’t understand why, but lately, there are times I don’t think about Qian Qian.”

I reply. “There’s nothing wrong with letting go. Fifty thousand years, you have existed in a constant state of mourning. That is long enough.”

He shakes his head at me, then lets it fall into his hands. The smallness of his voice is heartbreaking. “No, not like that. It’s when I forget that concerns me. This mortal girl, I met her when she was fourteen.”

“She bought me a bowl of noodles on her birthday when I was starving, without even realizing it. It has become our tradition to celebrate her special day together. She is turning eighteen this year. Whenever I am with her, thoughts of Qian Qian fade away and the pain lessens.”

The guilt in Ye Hua’s voice is palpable. “Her presence soothes my troubled heart. I don’t understand the nature of my feelings, and I find myself grappling with emotions that feel inappropriate because of her age. I’ve decided I will not see her again, and that depresses me more than it should.”

“Ye Hua, it’s completely normal to develop feelings for a young woman. At eighteen, she’s no longer a child but a woman ready for marriage and motherhood. Remember, Yueli gave birth to your son at sixteen,” I reassure him.

In response, Ye Hua confesses his uncertainty about his feelings for her.

“Do you really need to define your feelings and intentions towards her? Just let them evolve naturally. If she has touched your heart, why punish yourself for feeling something other than sorrow?”

“No one can control matters of the heart. It’s time to stop blaming yourself,” I continue. “I believe Bai Qian would understand if you let someone new into your heart.”

Ye Hua looks up, seeking reassurance. “Do you really think she wouldn’t resent me? What about the age gap, especially in the eyes of the children?” he questions, his voice trembling.

My reply is choked with emotion, my voice breaking. Seeing my younger brother still struggling to come to terms with his loss, as if Bai Qian’s death was just yesterday, is lamenting.

“Bai Qian would want you to move forward. Your happiness would bring joy to her and the children who have seen you suffer too much. Show them a different side of yourself,” I encourage him, but I hold back from asking if roles were reversed. Would Bai Qian still be waiting and clinging to Ye Hua’s ghost as he has done with her? I refrain from asking because I know she would have.

Playfully, I tease, “A mortal? Seems like you have a thing for them.”

I throw my arm over his shoulder and say, “Mortal or immortal, does it matter when we both share the same humanity and the most profound commonality? We both have hearts that beat, race, and break.”

I set my arm over his shoulders comfortingly, like an older brother would, and add, “Now, pull yourself together. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting on her birthday.”

 

Bai Lianhua

Mother slowly circles around me with the same nervous expression that I’ve seen too often. She speaks in a defeated whisper, expressing her concern about my premature aging. Falling to her knees before me, she gazes up wistfully, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I have failed you, High Goddess. Xinlan is lost,” she laments.

I gently tug at her sleeves, urging her to her feet. “Please, mother, I am just like everyone else.” Tenderly, I wipe away the tears from her perpetually youthful face.

It’s no wonder we are often mistaken for sisters.

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t age and when I’m old and grey-haired, you’ll still look as you do now.” I joke, but it makes her tear up again, and she hugs me tight.

This constant uneasiness of hers is nothing new.

I find her irrational fear of my growing old perplexing, but I don’t disregard her concerns as preposterous. I would never demean my mother, Xinlan, or her emotions. She would die for me without hesitation and pluck a star from the sky if I asked. While all parents love their children, my mother has an unparalleled adoration for me.

“It’s almost noon. If you’re going to the temple, you should leave now,” I remind her while gently pushing her towards the door.

Suddenly, she exclaims, “Oh, yes! Where did the time go?! Where is my head?”

She grabs her unassuming cloak. We have never been short of money, but my mother doesn’t dress like the other women in town. Everything from her dresses, cloaks, hats, and shoes is modest. With the basket of offerings for the goddess, she always prays to in the crook of her arm. She scurries around. The rustling of her clothes, the jingle of coins in her pockets, and the clinking of the offerings in the basket fill the room.

Hastily, she puts money in my pockets, muttering, “I know Saintess is furious with me for leaving without permission, but I hope she hears my prayers this year. Only she can stop your premature aging.”

Tenderness fills her actions as she kisses my cheeks and forehead, her soft touch leaving a warmth behind. “Happy Birthday, Bai Lianhua, my beloved High Goddess,” she says, then noticing the dark storm clouds and distant rumble of thunder, her lips turn upside down into a deep frown.

“It looks like rain. Maybe I should stay home this year?” she suggests as her gaze flickers from my face to the dark rolling clouds.

I do despise the sound of rain, but I understand the importance of her yearly pilgrimages to the temple. If she doesn’t go, her abstinence from meat, burning incense, and purification will be for naught.

Reassuring her, I say, “I’ll be fine.” She replies, “If it rains too hard, the bridge will be inaccessible and I won’t be back until tomorrow. Will you be okay alone?”

Guiding her gently to the door, I assure her that I’ll be alright, wave goodbye, and watch her sedan disappear, leaning against the rough, weathered wooden doorway of my cozy teahouse home.

The scent of dried tea dances in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the damp rain outside, creating a comforting blend of smells. Mother named this humble teashop Celestial Tea, but there is little heavenly about the boring task of serving tea to patrons.

Most of our customers are clingy, attention-seeking townsmen who linger around, nibbling cakes and sipping on their tea more slowly than they should, fruitlessly attempting to attract mother’s attention. They can buy a million cups of tea and cakes, but Mother won’t ever give them any notice. She has stated she has never been with a man and doesn’t plan to.

Her virginity claim is about as believable as me being the High Goddess she calls me.

As I peer through the small, foggy window, the dark clouds loom overhead, their thunderous grumbles echoing in the distance. Even the heavens are joining in on my subdued birthday, threatening to unleash their pent-up fury upon the world and my hair. The humidity makes it frizz, and I wanted to do something special this year when I meet Ye Hua.

After being seen with Ye Hua, my popularity soared last year after rumors about a handsome older boyfriend spread rapidly throughout the neighborhood. I disregarded it, but my former best friend, now my best friend once more, was captivated by Ye Hua’s exceptional refinement.

She said he was dark, dangerous, and dashing, which is humorous because I thought his big appetite was attractive. I disdain men who come to the teahouse and take dainty sips of their tea and pick at their pastries like women while ogling me or my mother.

Ye Hua gobbled up everything and even slurped up the broth, drinking it directly from the bowl.

Now, that was incredibly attractive to me.

My friend’s comment made me reassess my relationship with Ye Hua. I’ve concluded he’s quite handsome, as she pointed out, but I think he sees me like the juvenile he met four years ago, which I’m not anymore. Most women my age are married and have children. In some sense, in our society, being unmarried and not having a prearranged marriage at eighteen makes me an old maid.

Sighing, I peek out the window again, pouting, and wonder if he’ll meet me this year, given the terrible weather. It looks like we’re in for a serious storm based on the black clouds and rumbling in the sky. It would be a shame if we missed each other this year, as it would have been our last meal together.

“Don’t be negative. Ye Hua might make it. You should put forth extra effort to be prettier this year, so his last memory of you will be at your best.” My voice echoes as I talk to myself.

Getting into the outfit I selected for my birthday, my stomach flutters with a mix of excitement and nerves. The fabric of my dress feels soft against my skin, a gentle reminder of my evolution over the past year, as my body has matured and blossomed, just as my mother had predicted.

My reflection shows a changed me; will he notice my new figure in this outfit my mother made for me? I stand taller now, though I doubt he will notice, given his towering height compared to mine. Contemplating how to style my hair, I realize I never really tried to impress him before.

What has changed in a year’s time?

The thought crosses my mind if he is possibly married, a topic we have never broached. I realize he does not even know my name. Reminding myself not to get ahead of things, and perhaps I am overthinking it all, I settle for a simple braid to tame my locks, considering the humid weather.

Studying my bare face, I ponder ways to enhance my features and decide on a subtle application of rouge to accentuate my lips without being too conspicuous. Contented with my appearance, I grab an oiled umbrella and head towards the riverside to meet Ye Hua.

While waiting, I entertain thoughts of witty conversations and practice making expressions that might portray me as a woman rather than a girl. Lost in my thoughts and practicing my flirtatious mannerisms, I realize that hours have slipped by with no sign of him.

I’m not that surprised he didn’t come this year. I can not blame him. The dreary weather is enough to deter anyone from venturing out, but I still wait for him until darkness descends before I leave.

 

Ye Hua

I wasn’t sure if I would see her, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say I couldn’t resist.

She isn’t at our usual spot by the river, but I’m not surprised. It’s much later than our previous meetings, and she didn’t wait. Perhaps my being tardy was intentional on my part, hoping she would prevent me before I lose control, hoping there wouldn’t be a chance where I would take my first step to an ambiguous, unknown, as I still don’t understand my feelings for her.

As I rush to the restaurant, I consider that maybe it is just me and I am overthinking things when it is just an innocent friendship. It’s possible to be platonic friends with the opposite sex, and I’m almost convinced. I have nearly convinced myself of this until I see her sitting alone in the noodle shop at the table we usually sit at. Her loveliness is captivating.

Her long lashes are visible as she gazes downward, her chin resting in her hand. It appears as if she is drawing on the table with tea. I see her dipping her index finger into her teacup and making motions on the wooden table. She’s not smiling. In fact, she looks depressed.

She jumps back startled when I suddenly sit opposite, but then smiles so her dimples show, yet there is a demureness in her that wasn’t there last year, making me realize she has grown and is a woman.

My eyes are drawn to the table and traces of wet tea remaining. She has covered the table with my name. When she sees me looking down, she purposely pours her tea on the table nervously and uses her hands to spread the liquid around, grinning at me as people do when they get caught doing something that embarrasses them.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say apologetically, sitting across from her.

She replies softly with a femininity that is new to her voice. “I didn’t think you were coming today because of the weather, and you might be busy.”

As I reach for the teapot, she swiftly grabs it before I can, filling my cup with a warm smile. “I ordered two bowls of noodles in case you showed up,” she confesses, her actions speaking louder than words.

When our eyes meet, she blushes and drops her gaze, stealing sly peeks at me. I’m not as shy and staring at her blatantly. Her expressive eyes, brimming with gentleness, draw me in. The subtle scent of her perfume is divine. Gone is the roundness of her face, replaced by the elegant grace of high cheekbones and a slender neck. Her figure has filled out, her dress snug in places, showing off curves that weren’t there before.

Her transformation has been captivating, much like a swan’s graceful wing unfurling.

In that moment, it becomes crystal clear that I am not the only one feeling the subtle yet undeniable connection blossoming between us. It’s also clear that I’m not the only one who appreciates her beauty. The way the men in the restaurant are looking at her infuriates me, yet she remains completely unaware of the attention she’s receiving from every man there.

I still haven’t learned her name when, out of the blue, she asks me if I am married.

I stammer, “I am..I was..”

Why was this so difficult?

Perhaps because I had never spoken those words before.

“I am a widower. My wife passed away.” I say.

I can’t and don’t hide the fact that the loss still weighs heavily on my heart, since anyone with whom I become entangled will have to understand that Qian Qian will always be my first love and until now my only love. I’m not saying this is love, but I’m finally open to the possibility.

 

Bai Lianhua

Ye Hua tells me he is a widower, and now I have a name for what I have seen in his eyes from our first meeting. Sorrow.

I don’t pry, asking how long it’s been since his wife passed away. I’m not blind. Judging by his demeanor, it must have happened recently.

While waiting for our meal, I discreetly glance at his face, confirming my friend’s assessment. I’m surprised I didn’t realize sooner, but he’s more than just handsome. He’s gorgeous; I’m not the only one who thinks so. Despite being accompanied by male partners, women can’t resist staring at him as if he were their meal, and suddenly I feel foolish for trying to impress him today when, truly, he can have any woman he desires.

Nervously, I tap the table, drawing his attention. Fearing my fidgeting bothers him, I pull my hands back as we silently wait, as we always do. He’s quiet, and he doesn’t need to chatter to feel significant. He’s more of the type; he seems to want to avoid attention and go unnoticed, but that is impossible for a man like him.

During dinner, I announced that this meal would be our last since my mother and I are leaving town. When questioned regarding my destination, I reply that my mother hasn’t given me specifics, only that it’s a distant place.

“Mother said we were never coming back,” I say, noticing for the first time that the sorrow in his gaze is replaced by something unreadable.

I don’t understand why my heart hurts when Ye Hua says that our short-lived fate has been a source of enjoyment for him, and when we part in front of the restaurant as we have for years, he hands me a beautiful mother-of-pearl box with a white jade hairpin nestled inside.

It’s fitting that it has a white lotus at the tip.

Gently placing it in my hair, he silently turns and leaves, and I watch, hoping for a backward glance that never comes.

I tuck my chin into my chest and make myself smaller to fit under my umbrella to avoid getting wet from the rain. The sounds of heavy rain and rushing water terrify me. This is how it’s always been. When I was little, my mother had to hold me tightly in a blanket because I shook and cried uncontrollably during storms, judging by the dark clouds. I fear it’s going to be a downpour tonight.

“Hey Lianhua!” I hear Sui Zichen and his lackeys following me as I quicken my pace.

Zichen, the magistrate’s nephew from the wealthiest family in town, has been pursuing me for years. Ignoring his calls, I lower my head and try to distance myself. “Why isn’t your teashop open today?” he yells, “I saw your mother leave town earlier, and now the bridge is under water. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone on a night like this.”

The arrogance and insinuation in his tone make my skin crawl, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “I don’t need your concern!” I yell back without turning, sensing them drawing closer.

“I can’t help but worry about you, beautiful,” he continues. His sense of entitlement makes him a hundred times uglier than he is. “I have a marriage promise, but I’ll make you my concubine.”

Ignoring Zichen’s advances, I quicken my pace, feeling the weight of his gaze on my back like an unwelcome touch. He draws closer, his lewd remarks dripping with vulgarity, carried in the rain. “You might enjoy being my concubine. I’ll plant my seed in you before my legal wife.”

They can’t see me, but my eyes roll at his indecency. I retort, “Go away and take your disgusting offer with you. I’d rather shave my head and become a nun than be your concubine!”

He usually leaves me alone by now, but he knows Mother isn’t home. Her absence has emboldened him to be as aggressive as he dares to catch up with me. I tighten my grip on my umbrella, feeling the cool metal handle digging into my palm, preparing to defend myself from the sudden rush of footsteps approaching from behind. My heart races. However, I soon realize it’s not Zichen.

A shocked gasp escapes my lips as the umbrella is wrenched from my hand, revealing Ye Hua’s silhouette in the dim light. Holding the umbrella higher to shield me from the rain, he stands there getting soaking wet, his deep shell beige coat turning the color of dark pearwood from the rain. His intimidating expression over his shoulder is enough to make Zichen stop following me.

I’m happy to see him, but I don’t question why he came back. When we eventually reach the teahouse, I suggest he come inside to dry himself off. However, conflict clouds his face as he stands outside the teahouse without coming inside.

I realize it’s more than possible he wants to go, and I wouldn’t stop him. What right do I have to hold him back? None, he hasn’t even asked my name.

“Take this umbrella with you,” I say, looking past his shoulder at Zichen, who is still standing by to corner me alone.

Ye Hua’s gaze follows mine, and when he sees Zichen, he steps over the threshold and comes inside. With a quiet interest, he looked around the teahouse as I quickly brewed the most expensive tea we had to warm him.

“Here. There’s a fireplace back here. If you’ll give me your coat, I’ll hang it up for you.” He trails behind me into the back of the shop to where my bedroom is. When he catches sight of the bed, he freezes dead in his tracks as if I’m hinting at something intimate, showing regret for coming back.

 

Ye Hua

What compelled me to return to her? I can’t quite put it into words. It’s as if some unseen force, like a magnet, pulled me back. But as I stand in what seems to be her bedroom, I am fully aware of all the reasons why I shouldn’t be here.

“Here, take this towel. I’ll be in my mother’s room so you can have your privacy. It might take a while for your clothes to dry.” She says, then turns away, unbraiding her hair as she leaves me in her bedroom.

I remove my wet coat even though I could use a spell to dry my clothes. There isn’t a genuine reason to keep me here. I decide it would be best if I left before I do something that is inappropriate, but when I hear a roaring clap of thunder followed by her piercing scream.

I find her in her mother’s room, crouched low on the ground with her hands covering her ears. Tears stream down her face as her eyes remain tightly shut. She is trembling uncontrollably. I kneel beside her, running my hand over her hair that’s crimped and wavy from being in a braid. My touch causes her eyes to open, but her blanched skin and crouched posture reveal her fear, though she attempts to sound calm.

She apologizes with a weak smile, and I learn her name. The very name I’ve avoided learning to prevent forming uncertain attachments.

“Bai Lianhua feels foolish for acting like this. Forgive me, Ye Hua.”

Her name is Bai Lianhua—White Lotus.

Perhaps Qian Qian sent me to Bai Lianhua, or maybe I’m rationalizing my feelings for Bai Lianhua by convincing myself she’s a gift from Qian Qian to avoid guilt.

“Is your name Bai Lianhua?” I ask, needing confirmation, feeling as though my mind is about to shatter.

“Yes.” She nods slowly as she rises from her crouched position, smiling awkwardly as she tries to explain herself. “It’s a phobia. I can’t stand the sound of rushing water. I know it sounds absurd, but every time I hear it, I am overcome with this dread and my heart feels tight like I’m dying.”

Eyes downcast, she mutters, “You must think I’m insane and desperate to escape.” No sooner have the words left her lips when another clap of thunder so close it sounds right outside is followed by a sudden deluge of rain pummeling the rooftop, making it sound as if it might cave in, and makes her jump into my arms, terrified. With her face pressed against my chest, her thin arms around me, she shakes like a scared rabbit surrounded by hunters’ dogs.

I wordlessly hold her, stroking her hair, feeling the silky, wavy tresses slip between my fingers as a thousand emotions course through me, and one would think the most profound would be guilt for embracing a woman that isn’t Qian Qian, but it’s not. Nor is it what I’ve been grappling with, impropriety, worrying that my budding feelings for Bai Lianhua were inappropriate.

I am worried about Bai Lianhua being alone and afraid, and as much of a bastard as it makes me. My thoughts are consumed by her, and it seems I am not alone in this sentiment. Bai Lianhua looks up at me with a teary gaze, staring into my eyes as if she can read my soul, and it’s quite possible she can.

Out of the blue, she gently lifts onto her tiptoes, her lips brushing softly against mine like a gentle breeze’s sigh. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a delicate touch of our lips, yet it feels like my heart could burst out of my chest, and the pureness of the moment brings tears to my eyes.

As tears roll down my face, she kisses them away. She whispers, her voice a light murmur carried on the air. “Ye Hua, I don’t mean to suggest you harbor these feelings for me, but it’s possible to love another while still cherishing the memory of your deceased wife. In your enormous heart, there’s room enough for two.”

With a sigh, my tears fall onto her chest as my forehead touches hers. She is rekindling my lonely heart.

Without a word, we communicate our emotions before she cups my face in her hands, leaning in for a kiss, and I kiss her gently while holding her with a possessive fierceness as if she might be taken from me. She pushes her delicate frame against me, leaving no space between us. With my tongue gently parting her lips, our kiss deepens, and the sweetness of her makes me tremble.

The storm continues its fury, but I’m only conscious of my pounding heart, our intertwined breaths, and the gentle whisper of our clothing as we embrace.

 

Bai Lianhua

I had never experienced a proper kiss until now. Ye Hua cradles my face in his hands as if I’m the most precious thing in the world, kissing me with a lightness I didn’t think possible in a kiss. Somehow, we find ourselves moving toward my mother’s bed, our lips sharing a breath, our hearts sharing an emotion, and our bodies sharing the same desire.

His lips fall from mine with reluctance, and he holds my face, staring into my eyes as if he’s asking me a question to which I don’t have the answer. I truly don’t know what he needs to hear from me, but I know what I want to hear from him. My name whispered from his lips as he made love to me.

I can’t find the courage to ask him for what I desire, and so I stand here with my eyes wide open in wonder as his face falls into my neck. He pulls me close, his powerful arms encircling my back, and we’re hugging one another as I hold on to him just as tightly. With our clothes, we’re touching each other. We’re connected profoundly. This must be the definition of intimacy. I pull back and look into his eyes.

The storm outside seems to have settled because it’s quiet. He lifts me and gently places me onto my mother’s bed. With a flick of his wrist, the candlelight disappears, and the only source of illumination is the moonbeams coming in through the window.

“Ye Hua, can you relight the candle so I can see you?” I say, but hold back from saying that I want him to see me and not his wife. While he goes to the fireplace and uses a slender piece of tinder to relight the candle, I quietly remove my clothes. I want him to see me, to truly see only me, and when he does, his gaze, instead of burning with desire, softens.

Ye Hua

Her vision is breathtaking.

She wears nothing, lying on a bed of her wavy hair, looking at me with tenderness. Desire flickers in her eyes as she wordlessly urges me to take her. The subtle pucker of her pouty mouth, the flawlessness of her creamy skin, the delicate curve of her small breasts, the slope and peaks, her delicate rosy nipples, the soft flatness of her navel that leads to her smooth hairless mound, all are visions of pure temptation.

Her beauty holds me spellbound, yet I am unable to touch. I sit on the edge of the bed, drinking her in, my eyes lingering where my hands dare not go as my guilt still holds me hostage.

Perhaps the rain is triggering memories of Qian Qian during our love trial when her mortal shell A-li offered herself to me, as Bai Lianhua is doing now. Whatever it is, my guilt lodges in my throat, making it impossible to swallow as I struggle with the internal turmoil between desire and indiscretion.

That doesn’t mean I don’t want to ravish her in every way and lose myself in the heavenly warmth between her thighs, which I do, but my conscience, heavy as a mountain on my shoulders, supersedes the intense temptation of my carnal appetites.

“I should go,” I murmur, overcome with conflict. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

She replies, “That’s okay, Ye Hua. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do.”

She sits up to hug me, and even though I don’t hug back, she isn’t offended.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

I exhale, and my breath bounces off her head. The fragrance of her hair heightens my senses, and the feeling of her cheek against my shoulder is sweet agony.

She replies, “Don’t be sorry.”

Straddling my legs, she sits facing me on my lap, her chest pressed so tightly to mine that no light can get between us. Her face, nestled against the contour of my neck, is framed by a sea of wavy black hair.

“Ye Hua, I don’t expect anything from you, so there’s no need to apologize. However, know this – I, Bai Lianhua, will devote myself to you entirely, even if your feelings don’t mirror mine. The affection I hold for you is potent enough to sustain a lifetime of unrequited devotion,” she declares.

My heart sinks at her words, dropping into the depths and settling heavily in my feet.

Throughout my life, there have been pivotal moments that changed me.

Like when Susu asked me to settle a debt with my body, leading us to marry.

When Qian Qian asked for another child while we shared a passionate moment in the open courtyard of Xiwu Palace, that moment resulted in the conception of the triplets.

When A-li professed her love for me until the end of time, urging me to free myself from the pain as I Jinghua, drew my final breath.

And now, a new chapter unfolds, as Bai Lianhua vows eternal love, regardless of my inability to reciprocate.

Her confession reignites a forgotten yearning, acting as a catalyst. Prompting me to finally face what I couldn’t before. It is a moment of realization – It’s time.

I must let go of the past to move forward.

Eyes closed, my heart overflows with love, and I see my Qian Qian. My heart declares my eternal love for her, bidding farewell to my beloved wife who transformed me into a man in three different existences. The woman who sacrificed herself for our children, and maybe me.

Upon opening my eyes, I see Bai Lianhua. I truly see her.

Giving in to my urges, enjoying the newfound closeness between us as I hold Bai Lianhua tightly in my lap, is sweet abandonment. She quivers and sighs airily when I run my hands over her shoulders, exploring her body with a sense of wonder. I trace the elegant curves of her back down to her slender waist and admire her cute, round bottom before feeling the warmth of her legs next to me.

Touching her reminds me of our first shared meal, where I discovered my hunger only after the first bite. I now realize the depth of my need for intimate contact was extreme.

My tender kiss is met with one full of heat and passion. Her eager mouth on mine sent sparks flying and ignited a burning heat in my loins. When our tongues press, intertwine, taste, and explore each other, I moan into her mouth.

A surge of greed consumes me as I discover her and hear her breath hitch. The floodgates have opened, unleashing a deluge. I touch her without reservation, causing her to arch her graceful back and emit a soft moan as my fingers brush against her smooth skin. Her breathing quickens as I continue to explore, her nipples stiffening under my touch.

Leaning in, I relish the tender sweetness and the taste of her supple skin as I take one hardened nipple into my mouth. A gentle moan escapes her as I delicately bite it, the sound blending with the rustling of my clothes between us. The fragrance of her arousal envelops me as she moves against my lap, and as she feels my desire growing beneath her, she trembles in my embrace, her panting tickling my neck, her body pressing urgently against mine.

I lay her down to undress. Every piece of clothing removed causes her to writhe. Her gaze lustfully roams over every inch of me, lingering at the V at my waist, and color spreads over the surface of her skin. As soon as I’m naked, she gasps, her mouth hanging open as her gaze travels along my member from root to tip, her eyes widening and her lips parting as if she’s at a loss for words.

She’s unable to tear her eyes off my swollen desire.

Beckoning me with open arms and legs, “Ye Hua, you’re beautiful. Come to me.”

Her invitation to bliss is one I will not decline.

I move closer, settling between her luscious thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. I can see every detail of her face as I lean in, capturing the sight of her beauty. Her fingers delicately tracing my skin makes me throb with need. The sensation of her creamy legs gliding along my back is almost bewildering. When our lips meet, her slow and sensual tongue makes me break into a sweat.

I ache for more, for all of her. An overwhelming, primal urge to possess her completely consumes me, compelling me to express my love and passion in the rawest way. It’s almost agonizing to break the kiss, but I do to explore her further, realizing with every kiss, every touch, her body is one that I won’t ever be able to get enough of. Her delicate breasts are a perfect fit in my hands. The taste of her skin lingers on my tongue as I skim from one nipple to the other, feeling them harden and pull taut under my touch.

Leaving a trail of kisses down the center of her body, I am learning her secrets. I am entranced by her, every touch revealing a new layer of her desire. The heat emanating from between her legs is palpable, a heady mix of her arousal and anticipation. As I hover over her, her scent drives me wild, a low groan escaping her lips as she arches towards me.

She lifts her hips, a silent plea for more, and as I oblige, her body responds eagerly. The sight of her virginity is a mesmerizing blend of innocence and desire, her folds glistening with arousal. Every part of her is a tantalizing invitation, her body a masterpiece waiting to be explored.

My lips press against her soft thigh, inhaling the delicate scent of her skin as I glide my nose over her warmth. The mixture of her desire and purity fills the air, sending a rush of sensations through me, making my senses reel and my pulse quicken. Every breath is filled with the essence of her, driving me wild.

Her trembling body speaks of readiness as she whispers my name, a plea I’m eager to fulfill. I taste her wetness, swirling my tongue around her sensitive spot, savoring the sweetness of her essence. Her reactions are a symphony of gasps and moans, her movements growing more urgent as I discover her with gentle precision.

Her back bows, fingers grasping at the sheets, hips lifting in response to my touch. As I slide a finger inside her slowly and as delicately as a murmur, her body tenses, and her inner muscles clench around me as she, my virgin, whimpers from the subtle discomfort. While sucking on her pearly clit, I penetrate her slow and steady. It doesn’t take long for her to hit her peak, and her walls tighten in ecstasy.

Her voice fills the room as she cries out my name, a crescendo of pleasure and release. I don’t let her recover. I can’t. My need is pressing. As her body shudders with aftershocks, I move on top, placing myself between her thighs and staring at her glowing face. My lips caress her face gently as I whisper, “Sharing bodily pleasure is not something I do lightly. If we do this. You and I will become “We” forever, and I mean, for eternity. Are you alright with that?”

An impassioned kiss is her answer. My mouth is on hers, and she responds with fervor. It’s almost enough to undo me.

She reaches between us, guiding my sex to press against her, silently pleading for me to take her. When the tip of my member parts her folds, the slickness is overwhelming, her tightness and her warmth inviting.

“Forever,” she breathes.

I bury my face in her sea of hair, captivated by her scent, as I carefully burrow through her maidenhead, trying to reach further inside. Her whimpers, digging nails, and tense body precede a sharp bite on my shoulder, leaving a mark as my jaw clenches and teeth grind. It’s a struggle to take her slowly, fighting the urge to move deeper, but her watering eyes keep my urgency under control.

“It won’t hurt much longer,” I tell her, pressing my lips to hers.

Suddenly, I sink in. I explore her depths in a sanctuary that belongs solely to me, feeling her stiffen up as I enter her methodically and gently. Her legs tremble, her fingers dig tensely into my shoulders, conveying her unease, yet she clings to me, trying to adjust her hips to match my movements. Her warmth enveloping me causes my senses to blur, and I revel in losing myself in her.

With deliberate strokes to minimize any discomfort she may feel, our synchronized movements create a harmonious dance. Gradually, she relaxes and surrenders to the moment, her body becoming more pliant, her back muscles releasing tension, and her hips swaying to the rhythm of bodily pleasure. Sensing her readiness, I increase the tempo, plunging into her with unchecked desire.

Her tight grip on me drives me to move vigorously and faster, causing the bed to shake with our passion. As the friction between us intensifies, her moans echo in my ear, setting a wildfire of desire within me. Her ragged breaths, racing heartbeat, and glistening skin only add to her allure. By drawing her legs in and widening them, she signals her readiness for me to take control. Running my hands along the backs of her thighs, I gently push them towards her chest, exposing more of her and allowing for a deeper connection.

With each thrust, her head falls back and her body arches and leans on mine, bringing us both to a breaking point. Pleading for more, she moans my name, pushing me to keep going. Our eyes lock, moving in perfect synchrony, the rhythm of our breathing creating a shared melody. Her fingers pressing into my back only fueling my desire even more.

“I’m yours,” she breathes, utterly surrendering, pushing me to the limit.

Crying out my name, she writhes beneath me as the crescendo of climax washes over her. I relentlessly push her beyond her limits, never giving her a chance to recover. The heat radiating from her sweaty skin is triggering as I thrust into her possessively, because she is mine. Sinking into her makes me feel I’m melting and rushing through the river under her skin. I yearn to drown so I can remain inside her. I’m coming undone, unraveling.

The world stops.

Time stands still.

Our bodies are no longer our own.

Engulfed in absolute bliss, she speaks another language as she climaxes again with me. With one last pounding thrust, our essences blend. In her core, my seed spills and is greedily absorbed.

 

 Bai Lianhua

I’m trembling, yet Ye Hua’s trembling is worse than mine. He collapses on me, and we both gasp for air. He turns over, and I end up on top of him. With my cheek on his chest, I feel his rapid heartbeat and let our moment of bliss replay in my memory.

When Ye Hua took off his clothes, I was speechless. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that’s how men looked undressed. His lean body was a sight to behold, with skin so smooth it seemed to glisten in the soft candlelight, every muscle defined as if sculpted with precision, as if the lines were cut with knives. As my eyes traveled down his form, every inch seemed to exude vitality and power, culminating in the region between his thighs.

I never knew a man’s private area could be beautiful, but Ye Hua’s manhood stood tall and unwrinkled, with a glossy, swollen head. I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t help myself, and the more I stared at it, I knew I wanted every part of me to be explored by his sex.

“Are you ok?” He asks softly, breaking the silence.

I turn to him and blush, suddenly feeling shy. “Mhmm.”

“Did I hurt you?” His murmurs as he caresses my body.

I reply, “No..” I pause, not knowing how to articulate how it felt to become his woman. “Yes,” I say, blushing and averting my gaze, then my words come rushing out as if talking fast will make me feel less embarrassed. “It was terribly painful. Can we do it again?”

His chuckle makes his chest rise and fall.

I put my hands on his chest, stacking them, and rest my chin on top, thinking about how unbelievable it is that someone like Ye Hua would want me. He could have any woman between heaven and earth, but he’s here with me, and there were words spoken in the heat of the moment. I wouldn’t be upset if he left and never came back. One night with him is worth one…ten lifetimes of abstinence.

Suddenly, I feel a wave of sorrow for his wife. It must have been incredibly difficult for her to leave someone like Ye Hua behind, and it’s a profound realization that I’m the first woman he’s been intimate with since her passing.

I’ve never been one to shy away from anything, especially when it involves matters of the heart. I can only imagine he must be deeply immersed in his thoughts and emotions, so I decide to address the elephant in the room.

“If you’re comfortable, tell me about your wife?” I inquire, careful not to come across as prying.

He responds with a sad smile, closing his eyes, likely envisioning her in his mind. “Qian Qian was a mix of beauty, fierceness, passion, tenderness, and also coldness, spite, instability, and destructiveness. She was remarkably complex.”

“She captivated the Gods, leading them to vie for her affection. At one time, they might have killed each other to have her.”

I am in awe of his portrayal of her. Though I may not grasp everything he’s saying, I feel compelled to show her the respect she deserves, rather than giving in to jealousy. I’m not trying to replace anyone.

“She sounds like she was a formidable presence,” I remark. He responds, “She was, and so are you.”

He lifts me with a gentle hand, caressing my face, brushing my hair, and kissing me softly. His tender touch holds such power that it could move mountains and part seas. Sitting up straddling him, I gaze down at him, cupping his face veiled by my hair. Pressing my lips to his with a fierceness I didn’t know I possessed, I suck the air from him and make it mine before returning it.

Suddenly, his hands, as rapacious and urgent as his sex, position me until his length settles between the crack of my cheeks. Slanting my upper body, my hands on his chest, and tilting my hips, I rub my wet slit along the length of his readiness. The friction, grinding, and heat become overwhelming for him.

Taking hold of himself, he positions himself with me. As I feel the pressure of his head parting my silky fold, I am enveloped in a hazy ambiance scented with bodily pleasure. Our shared moans blended with the sound of rustling sheets beneath us. I grate against him, feeling the warmth of his hands cupping my cheeks, guiding, dragging me across his pelvis with a gentle urgency.

Breaking the kiss, he focuses on my nipple, his hands exploring and squeezing my derriere in a frenzy of desire. As he lifts me up and brings me down on his length, the room spins around me, and I throw my head back in pleasure. Ecstasy washes over me, causing my eyes to flutter closed as I release a passionate cry. A powerful climax overcomes me, causing my toes to curl as I’m left breathless and trembling.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he rises to his knees, lifting me up and smoothly transitioning us into a new position that intensifies my excitement. My feet dangle in the air when his muscular arms hook around the back of my parted legs, and he lowers me onto his sex, slow and steady. My eyes roll back. The ecstasy robs me of my vocabulary. All I can do is make incoherent sounds.

The sensation that courses through me is indescribable, especially as he eases into a deliberate rhythm. His mouth is on mine. His tongue bears down on mine as he drops me low and slow. When I bottom out, I feel his pubic hair brush against my skin. The sudden power of his upward motion is agonizingly pleasurable, leading me to wail louder against his lips. The mixture of pain and pleasure is intense, and I can sense that he feels it, too.

As he takes me, I can see the desire reflected on his face. His biting his lip, eyes brimming with desire, completely fixated on me. As he lifts and lowers me on his sex with intentionally and tormentingly exquisite motions, I must be a wanton sight, embodying pure lust. The intensity of our eye contact is overpowering. Watching him consumed by lust intensifies my arousal. Similarly, my longing stokes his passion, causing him to swell and become even thicker than before.

“Who do you belong to?” He growls, and I shudder. “You. I’m yours.”

“Never forget that,” he says, holding me in place with his tip still inside me. He then thrusts upwards, causing my eyes and mouth to fall open wide. With fierce determination, he uses me more forcefully, his desire echoing like a wild animal on the prowl. The scent of sweat and desire hangs thick in the air, intensifying as his pace quickens, making the bed creak and shake beneath us.

He takes what he craves, his movements becoming more urgent and demanding, and I revel in the selfishness of his desire. I long to be used solely for his pleasure. I think he is trying to push me to my limits. He might destroy me, and I’m ravenously eager for it. I hunger for him to.

Please, Ye Hua, break me over and over again…

With a subtle tilt of his hips, each thrust is accompanied by a deliberate rub on my clit, creating more friction. It’s overwhelming. As I moan, every muscle in my body tenses up in anticipation, a surge of electricity like white lightning coursing through me. Suddenly, a rush of pleasure washes over me like a tidal wave, causing my body to convulse in ecstasy. Stars dance before my eyes as I tremble, feeling the intensity of the moment weakening my legs.

His lustful gaze locks on mine, his firm grip anchoring me, while he whispers tender words. His body pushes me harder, igniting a fire within me. His fingers dig into my thighs with each movement, guiding us towards a chaotic fulfillment of desires.

“Ye Hua!” My senses are overwhelmed as my body once more tightens around him with each breath, every groan, every primal grunt a sound of his pleasure until he reaches his intense and powerful climax. His head falls back, emitting a mix of a beastly roar and a grunt, unfiltered and raw. In that moment, he is breathtaking, and he is mine.

Collapsing onto his chest, I feel like a puddle of the person I used to be. As he withdraws, the tangible signs of our desires flow from me. Panting, he holds me with tenderness, a sharp contrast to the way he shows his love physically. I must have saved a nation in my past life to experience this kind of euphoria with a man like Ye Hua.

=====

“Bai Lianhua!” At my mother’s voice, I leap up and fall out of bed… my mother’s bed. My movements are too fast. The soreness between my thighs makes me whimper and stumble.

I glance back at Ye Hua, wide-eyed, and whisper. “Oh my god, it’s my mother! What do we do!?”

I scramble around trying to pick up the clothes thrown on the floor and smooth my mess of hair down at the same time.

Ye Hua holds me by the shoulder. “Calm down,” he tells me, and covers me with his coat and puts on his pants, looking too composed.

His poise is impressive, but I wonder how long it will last. I hear my mother’s footsteps getting closer and move behind Ye Hua, peaking out from behind. He seems to have a plan, but when mother sees us, she lets out a blood-curdling scream; he jumps startled.

“How did you find us and what have you done to Bai Lianhua?!” She demands. Her hands fist at her sides as her eyes scan the room and widen in horror when she sees the state of her bed.

“Bai Lianhua! Come away from him!” Mother comes around and snatches me by a hand away from behind Ye Hua’s back, and he catches the other.

I became the rope in their game of tug of war.

Ye Hua’s tone of voice is confusing when he says, “Has High Immortal Xinlan forgotten how to greet on ceremony? Why did you leave Qingqui, and where’s the White Lotus?”

“Considering you are practically naked in my house, there’s no need to follow protocol!” She spats.

She glares hatefully at Ye Hua and pulls me towards her again, but Ye Hua’s grip on my wrist tightens possessively. “I am following the Fox Empress’s order. You can’t be here, and you definitely can’t be with Bai Lianhua!”

Amid the confusion of the scene, things become more complicated as my mother’s anger escalates to new levels, a side of her I’ve never seen before. She has not raised her voice to anyone, not once.

She’s not the only one upset. Ye Hua’s soft voice suddenly grows louder as he demands to know the whereabouts of the White Lotus.

I watch the situation, and then it hits me. Oh, my gods! Ye Hua must be my father!

I pull my hand from Ye Hua’s grasp and seek refuge behind my mother. It’s unfathomable, and I can’t believe the words that are coming out of my mouth, but I need to ask.

“Is Ye Hua my father? Did I commit incest?! Is that what’s happening!?”

She doesn’t answer, so it must be true. How could such a thing happen to me?

I fall to my knees behind her, clutching her skirt, but mother whips around. “High Goddess must never kneel for anyone! Never. Skylord isn’t your father! He’s your husband from your past life, and that’s why you can’t be with him in this one!”

Mother states I am the reincarnation of High Goddess, Gugu, Empress Bai Qian, a White Nine-Tailed Fox.

She claims she gave birth to me ten days after we left a place called Qingqui, and she fears I am aging at the same rate as a mortal because I haven’t been exposed to immortal life force. She says I can’t be with Ye Hua because my biological mother, the Fox empress, wanted me to have a life without crossing paths with Ye Hua, who is the Sky lord of Heaven, and someone named High God Mo Yuan.

“Mother, are you drunk?” I ask in a stupor, then I peer over at Ye Hua.

Ye Hua’s expression—bewildered, stunned, completely shocked—matches my own. Both of us appear as if we are about to faint, but I beat him to it.

 

Ye Hua

 

“A toast to the Skylord and his empress, Bai Lianhua!”

I raise my wine cup to the triplets standing before me, but before the rim reaches my lips, someone snatches it from my grasp. The clinking of the cup being taken fills the air. “Ye Hua has had enough wine, King of the Donghua,” Mo Yuan states firmly.

I suppress the urge to chuckle when I realize the triplets are but one man, and I am drunker than I’ve ever been in my life. The world spins slightly as I try to focus on the face in front of me.

Perhaps I indulged more than I should have, but the wine was as sweet as my life, and it’s taken lifetimes to get here. If there was ever a time to celebrate, today, our wedding day, is the day.

“Zhe Yan, you must have a sobering tonic?” Mo Yuan asks, to which High God Zhe Yan replies, “He’s already had two doses. Anymore, he won’t be able to perform his husbandly duties.”

Unabashed laughter erupts behind me. My sons A-li and Yingpei, my uncles, father, father-in-law, and brothers-in-law are enjoying a fine laugh at my expense.

Mo Yuan suggests that we take a walk to clear my head. I find myself leaning on my brother’s shoulder, even though I don’t really need the support. Perhaps I do need it, as I find myself stumbling over my own feet as we walk.

“Well, didi. You and she are husband and wife. It seems you two are Bound By Destiny,” Mo Yuan declares, then secretly asks under his breath, “It’s been a while. Do you remember which hole to put it in?”

Laughter bubbles up in my chest. “All of them,” I reply with a grin.

“Hao. All of them indeed!” My brother nods in agreement, the sound of his laughter joining mine. He suggests another lap around the lotus ponds before I join Bai Lianhua in our newlywed bedchamber.

 

Five Years Later

Ye Hua

I hurried over in concern after hearing that Lianhua had an unexpected visitor – a woman from my past. She is still adjusting to her role as Empress and being immortal, and Bai Lianhua is extremely jealous. Standing outside, I hesitated to enter as I heard their voices.

Lianhua asks, “Princess Miao Qing, why did you seek an audience with me?”

“I once served the Sky lord when he was the crown prince after I saved Crown Prince Ali from a monster.”

Lianhua asks, “If that was during Ye Hua’s crown prince days. It’s been a while, nevertheless, I’m one to pay my debts. Would you like a reward for saving my son?”

“Not a reward, Empress. Miao Qing would like to serve the Skylord once more. I only ask that you allow me to serve him tea and treat me as he does the other servants.”

The formality in her voice is replaced by a more casual tone as she responds. “Princess, I have heard of you and the naughty thing you did to Ye Hua. Tut, tut, tut, you tried to seduce him with a love potion in his soup.”

“Empress, Miao Qing was misled by Consort Sujin… I mean Sujin.”

Lianhua scoffs, “Well, that makes you an idiot if you followed Frog Face’s advice, and I can’t allow idiots to serve Ye Hua.”

She exhales a sigh loud enough I catch from outside, then says, “Come here, princess.. Closer.”

I sense her using her Fox magic.

“Princess, you must be feeling a tad amorous. That’s because of my enchantment spell. How does it feel to be influenced against your will and in secret? Not nice, but I in earnest hope you understand the deeper meaning behind my lesson.” Lianhua says.

Lianhua groans noisily, stretching out. Her lower back has been bothering her in this late stage of her pregnancy. “Please be my guest for a few days until the spell wears off. If I let you go now and you end up in some problematic situation because you’re feeling lustful, your brother will petition Ye Hua. Ye Hua has enough on his plate.”

“Ye Hua, what are you doing out there? Come inside.” Lianhua calls out, and I don’t know why, but this situation feels oddly familiar.

 

Heavenly Empress Bai Lianhua

The captivating face of Ye Hua never fails to mesmerize me, still evoking butterflies in my stomach. My infatuation with his body led to the birth of our twin sons Mùchén and Yìchén, born two years and ten months after our wedding, meaning they were conceived during our first night together. These little ones have brought chaos and joy to our lives with their tiny, busy feet.

As I gently rub my growing belly, I ask Ye Hua about Princess Miao Qing, her flushed face betraying her desire for him. “Ye Hua, do you remember Princess Miao Qing?”

“I know no such person.” Ye Hua, unperturbed, sits beside me, his touch on my lower back bringing a sense of calm, eliciting a sigh of relief.

Leaning in, I whisper to him, teasing about his irresistible charm that attracts others. “You have no one to blame but yourself….” His kiss silences me, his hand resting tenderly on my pregnant stomach, a gesture of love and protection.

Feeling his kiss deepen, I playfully scold him, mindful of our surroundings. “Not in front of strangers.”

“We are still honeymooners…” I am speaking to the now-empty spot where the princess was sitting moments ago. “Where did she go?”

Ye Hua explains that he magically sent her away for some private time. As our clothes vanish, I inquire about them, and he smirks, saying, “To save time, I removed them magically.”

“You are shameless!” I reprimanded him while reaching for him.

This shameless, yet endearing man is my husband, Ye Hua. I, Bai Lianhua, am the reincarnation of Bai Qian, with her soul within me.

Our eldest daughter holds Bai Qian’s memories but has not yet created a stable elixir to transfer them to me, which is fine.

Our immortal family, bound for eternity, holds a promise of everlasting love. I choose to embrace the present and create new memories, believing in a happily ever after that Bai Qian would have cherished.

The Sweet End