Chapter Two
The topic of my mother stirs numerous debates. Some view her as a dangerous temptress who created discord between brothers by seducing them both, labeling her as an adulteress. Conversely, others depict her as a hero who sacrificed her life to safeguard me, my sister, and possibly even the world from a powerful demon queen. Whichever narrative you lean towards, my mother, High Goddess Bai Qian, has become a legend even among divinities.
Silence falls in the arena, broken only by anticipation-filled murmurs; all are eager to see her, especially my father. In the immortal realms, mother’s unparalleled presence was unmatched before, and remains so to this day. Poised at the entrance to the Celestial Deliberation Hall, with its walls of luminous white stone, columns of pearly marble, and a vast ceiling of pure gold, Mother makes her first public appearance since her resurrection three years ago, after fifty millennia of death. She emerges as a faint blur, moving silently across the white quartz floor veined with gold. With each step she takes, she gradually solidifies.
If the phrase “too beautiful” applies to anyone, it’s my mother.
The sight of her in an inner garment as snow white as her fox fur, paired with a flowing sheer robe of the same hue that cascades over her ankles with long, billowing, bell-shaped sleeves that flow over her wrists, captivates without the need for a Fox enchantment spell. A silky coral colored sash, adorned with a white Ruyi knot, white silk tassels, and a mother-of-pearl pendant, clasps around her slim waist, softly clicking with every step. Her face, perfectly smooth and wrinkle-free, is unchanged from my youth. Shaped like a melon seed, its jade-like smoothness glows with a moon-like luminescence. Her dark eyes are not quite black but the color of burnt walnut, framed by delicately arched brows, evoke Autumn; their clarity, a profound wisdom. However, her smile causes them to curve and narrow like elegant bamboo leaves, making her expression both innocent and intriguing. Her simple silver or bamboo hair combs are gone, replaced by golden pins that dance with every movement she makes. They cast a shimmer in her loosely twisted bun, which is adorned with a tucked delicate pink plum blossom.
She is desired by men and envied by goddesses in all the immortal realms for a reason—my mother is not an ordinary woman. And now, she is legally divorced and uninvolved with Uncle Mo Yuan, who has been in seclusion for the past twenty years and is still unaware of her return. I foresee that marriage proposals will soon flood Qingqui.
With a gentle tapping sound echoing through the grand hall, the Jade Purity fan lightly pats her palm. Without lifting her gaze to meet father’s eyes as he sits higher than everyone else on his throne stoically, mother gives a relaxed expression towards the immortals and says. “Forgive my tardiness. I paused to pay my respects to Empress Bai Lianhua and lost track of the time.”
Her self-assuredness, as her eyes sweep the room, only reinforces her regal bearing. When she reaches me and my brothers, her gaze softens, becoming tender and full of pride. She then stands in the center as she awaits the proper greetings.
Except for father, all others present must bow to mother, the sole High Goddess in the eight wildernesses and seas. The hall resounds with everyone showing deference and respect to Gugu, who acknowledges them with a fleeting smile before turning to father, one of the first people she sought out upon her return three years ago.
He is the man she’s yearned for, yet also desperately has evaded. Is she uneasy? Perhaps, although one wouldn’t know by appearance alone. Like the pillars supporting the heavens, my mother’s control over her emotions is steadfast. Speaking confidently and without a hint of nervousness, she greets father formally on ceremony. “High Goddess Bai Qian, Fox Empress of the Green Wilderness, greets Skylord Ye Hua”, acting as if they had just met yesterday despite the 50,303 years that have gone by, but the brief squeezing of the handle of her fan reveals that she is unsettled at the man in front of her.
In her absence, he has transformed into the Emperor of Nine Heavens. His golden neck is encircled by a pristine white collar. He now wears a striking black brocade robe adorned with a dragon embroidered in black and silver threads, weaving through clouds and mountains. The dragon breathes mist from its gaping maw and a belt of pure white jade plates encircles his waist. His jet-black hair is fashioned into a neat topknot, secured with a black mianguan featuring rows of jade beads in the colors: white, yellow, green, red, and black, symbolizing the five elements: metal, earth, wood, fire, and water.
Father lightly clears his throat and replies, “Thank you for joining us. I was hoping you would grace us earlier, but…”
Interrupting him with a cough into her hand, Mother whispers, “Yes, I would have liked that too, but…” She pauses dramatically, then adds, “My poor health has kept me in Qingqui, unlike the very healthy King of the Five Sacred Mountains.”
With a fixed smile, she addresses the man who had questioned my legitimacy earlier. “Young immortal, you’ve grown since I last saw you, and speak eloquently with a loud and sharp voice. I heard your entertaining jest all the way from Heaven’s Gates clearly.”
The King of the Five Sacred Mountains appears to shrink in his seat as Gugu indirectly scolds him while getting her actual message across. She then looks at the other immortals, who sympathize with her, including those who were just criticizing her. They advise her to return home and take a rest. “Thank you all for worrying about me. Now that everyone has seen me and my identity is clear, I think it’s time for me to leave first,” she adds quickly, coughing into her hand.
There is nothing unusual in this situation, and it is appropriate for her to leave when she pleases. However, father’s silence has persisted for too long. I had thought he would let things be, but as he stands up from his throne, his dark eyes are obsidian. “This concludes the debate. Everyone may leave, but if High Goddess Bai Qian stays behind,” he says.
I quickly make my way over to greet my mother while my brothers, knowing she is still in a sensitive state, use their bodies to shield her from the other immortals eager to speak with her. My brothers leave once my mother is safe, and the crowds have dispersed. However, as I try to slip sneakily away with them, mother grabs my dress sleeve and asks between clenched teeth, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Grimacing, I yank my dress from her grasp and respond, “I’ll suffocate from anxiety. I don’t want to be here for this uncomfortable reunion.” Warning lights flash before my eyes, and a siren blares in my ears. I can recognize an unpleasant situation that I want nothing to do with when I see one, but mother is determined. “Ying’er, stay put. I wouldn’t have left Qingqui at all if it wasn’t for you and your loveless marriage agreement to the Phoenix clan, or your ridiculous desire to undergo your mortal calamity earlier than necessary. Don’t you dare leave me alone with your father.”
“Qian Qian, you appear quite healthy for someone feeling unwell. If I didn’t know better, I would suspect you have been avoiding me.” The sound of father’s voice startles us, breaking our conversation.
With a graceful turn, she faces him. “Hello, Ye Hua.” Her golden hairpins, nearly still, shimmer in the heavenly light. A practiced smile, with full lips and crescent-shaped eyes, masks her inner anxiety. While affectionate and embracing to her family, my mother maintains a distance from others, guarding against her vulnerabilities. My father is someone she particularly wants to keep at arm’s length.
“It’s Bai Qian, not Qian Qian anymore,” she corrects him, emphasizing and asserting her formal name to define their new relationship. Since they are no longer spouses or lovers, she rejects his informal term of endearment. Her personality lacks nuance or complexity. Everything is defined and straightforward for her, a trait I understand well, as I’m wired the same way.
Their complex history has forced them to choose between being loquacious, quiet, or, in this case, me being the sole topic to avoid a long overdue conversation between them. Yet, the unspoken tension between them crackles in the air, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. It’s only as an adult that I now recognize the depth of my father’s gaze towards her, fueled by their shared memories, which he doesn’t conceal. In contrast, my mother shrouds her emotions, especially now that he is with someone else.
She replies, “Why would I avoid you? You’re overthinking.” After a tense silence, the father suggests a private conversation in his study. However, the mother politely declines because of her limited time. She is to visit her former Kunlun brother, Uncle Zi Lan, who is now married to Princess Yan Zhi. She also mentions her desire to absorb the healing aura of Nine Heavens. Instead of being behind closed doors with father, she chooses to remain in the open.
Standing outside the debate hall after everyone has gone, she remains facing father but stares at me and expresses her concern for my engagement, “I fail to understand why you agreed to marry Ying’er into the Phoenix Clan when there are no affections between her and Prince Ruilin. The idea of Ying’er marrying and spending all of eternity with someone she doesn’t love deeply pierces me. Please help our daughter see reason.”
“I’ve tried. I’ve been against this marriage since it was first brought to my attention, but Ying’er is determined.” Father speaks softly, attempting to make eye contact with mother, who avoids his gaze. “She is very stubborn,” he adds. Mother blinks furiously and questions father about the source of my stubbornness. In reply, he emits a dry scoff.
“It’s just a lot of drama over nothing. This marriage with Prince Ruilin will be practical, as he has assured me. I will keep studying under Shifu. Once I provide him with a legitimate heir, he has agreed to take another wife and leave me in peace, so I won’t have to share a bed or serve him anymore.”
“Love? I don’t believe in love,” I say flatly, suddenly catching my parents’ attention. “Love appears to cause nothing but chaos and irrationality in people, and I prefer order. I would rather be with someone steady and comfortable. Emotions and romance seem like a waste of time to me, and I would rather stay away from them.”
My perspective, though sensible, is enough to make my mother cry. “Child, that’s not a marriage but a business merger.” Mother sighs. “Love isn’t drama. It’s important and required in a successful marriage, Ying’er.” With her back to my father and me, she looks skyward and discreetly dries her tears with the back of her hand. When she returns to face us, she seems too unnerved to continue the conversation about my wedding and brings up another topic that’s been bothering her – my mortal trial. She tries to reason with me, expressing concern about my decision to undertake the trial before being called to do so. To better prepare me for the upcoming difficulties that will surely arise during my calamity, she proposes a delay of several thousand years to my trial, and she reminds me of Bai Lianhua’s condition.
Stroking my hair, she speaks coaxingly and tenderly. “Ying’er, your stepmother needs you now. Surely you can wait until her health returns. You know how much she cherishes you.”
At the mention of Bai Lianhua, my chest feels constricted. I hang my head, lower my gaze, and fixate on the space between everyone’s feet as the weight of guilt settles on me. Bai Lianhua has been unwell since giving birth to my youngest sibling, fifth prince Honghua, and her condition is deteriorating. Despite numerous tests and spells, Shifu and I have been unable to determine the cause of her illness. There seems to be no apparent physical ailment, yet her health is rapidly declining, and at its current rate, it is doubtful she will survive more than a few years.
Mother is worried and feels responsible for Bai Lianhua’s illness. She thinks her resurrection is the reason for her ailment, while father believes it is due to too many pregnancies in quick succession. It’s ironic that they both harbor profound guilt and concerns over someone who obstructs their reconciliation, showing acceptance of their situation.
My posture weakens, and my determination crumbles like paper at the mention of Bai Lianhua. “I will stay until the Peach Festival, which is in one month,” I respond. “In exchange, mother, you must keep an open mind at the peach festival since the Phoenix Emperor and his consort will be in attendance to officially deliver the marriage proposition and betrothal gifts. It will give you a chance to get acquainted, and after spending some time with Prince Ruilin, you might change your mind about my marriage agreement.”
“You have a deal.” She says. The delicate fragrance of her hair envelops me, and I feel her tender touch on my face as she agrees to my terms swiftly, almost too eagerly, making me suspicious of her. I expect her inevitable attempt to prolong my stay after the Peach Festival. “You’re a good daughter, Ying’er,” she praises while planting soft kisses on both my cheeks. With a gentle tap of her fan, she asks her father’s permission to visit Bai Lianhua and the children, only for now. The addition of the words “only for now” not so subtly hints at her desire to avoid seeing him until she’s ready. Does this request hurt him? Undoubtedly, but he must respect her need for self-preservation as she shields herself from emotions and a situation she is not ready to confront yet.
“If you could instruct the guards to maintain discretion during my visits, it would be greatly appreciated.” She asks him.
Father is perplexed by mother’s concern and unexpected desire to spend time with Bai Lianhua, and her explanation only deepens his confusion when mother says, “I admire your wife, Bai Lianhua. She reminds me of someone I once knew long ago.”
Prince Ruilin~
Among the immortals, pretty goddesses are like raindrops in an endless sea. Princess Changying stands out, as she is the very sea that others blend into.
She is desired. Absolutely. It is impossible to find a young immortal who does not want her as a wife. What keeps them at bay? The obstacle for many suitors has been the men in her family – her father, uncles, and brothers, who are all exceedingly frightening and intimidating. What distinguishes me from the rest is a mix of fearlessness and foolishness, which has made me blind to everything except her.
From the moment I saw her, I was in love.
Three hundred years ago, during the Peach Festival, I first saw the one everyone calls the “Ice Princess.” The rumors about her serious character were true. Despite her intimidating demeanor and reputation for following the rules, the princess boldly stole a fat and juicy Immortal peach for her younger brother, Qingqui’s King, Yingpei, a sight I witnessed. The playful smile on her face, and her glittering green eyes framed by willow leaf eyebrows, lingered in my mind long after the festival ended. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. For months, I imagined her in my life, like swinging in the palace courtyard or sitting across from me at family meals, and when I sat under the full moon, I considered even the moon might shy away in embarrassment compared to the princess’s beauty.
My father thought I was insane when I asked to marry her. He and my siblings laughed hysterically in my face, saying she was of the noblest bloodline and out of my league. Despite their warnings, I stole my father’s royal seal and sent a message requesting a meeting to discuss a marriage between our clans. I expected the Celestials to mock and destroy the message, but to my surprise, the princess agreed because it was an auspicious time. Her father, the Skylord, had ended his mourning period and was finally taking another Empress.
I find Princess Changying engrossed in her work in her Shifu’s (my godfather’s) thatched cottage by the Jade pools within the fruit orchard. The air surrounding her carries a blend of the sweet aroma of ripe peaches and fresh ink. The turning of her book’s pages, filled with meticulously transcribed healing records, is accompanied by the sound of rustling leaves. Her slender fingers, usually pristine, now bearing ink splotches, are proof of her intense focus.
Softly clearing my throat, I wait for her to notice me. When she does, I feel like a ghost goby fish – transparent, with its internal organs visible. That’s always how it’s felt with her. When she looks at me, I feel as if she is peering through me, seeing my heart racing because of her.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I say sheepishly.
She sets the brush down on the inkwell and pushes away the stray hairs from her face, leaving an ink smudge on her cheek. “You’re no bother,” she replies without offering me a seat.
Reaching into the folds of my robe, the fabric rustling softly, I gently place a box on her desk. As she opens it, the delicate sound of the lid sliding echoes in the room. Inside, a precious orb from a thousand-year-old Heluo fish rests, still emitting a faint scent of the sea – the rarest of its kind.
Being a physician, she recognizes the significance of the gift. “I can’t accept this,” she murmurs, touching her cheek and smearing the ink even more.
With a bashful grin, I share the story of my hearty appetite. “You wouldn’t believe how many Heluo fish I’ve eaten to find a white orb. Fish with one head and ten bodies is quite filling. Some days I looked like I was about to lay eggs after my meals, but I hope you’ll use it for a revitalizing tonic for High Goddess Bai Qian.” Next to the white orb, I place another package wrapped in exquisite red silk. “These osmanthus cakes are for Empress Bai Lianhua, and this gift is for you.” I hand her a smooth black flute that I carved from serpentine jade. It’s a simple gift, but one straight from my heart.
Princess Changying is an accomplished musician. I hope she’ll play for me someday.
She wordlessly traces her fingers along the flute, starting from one end to the mouthpiece, and then delicately presses her fingertips into the oblong fingering holes, showing appreciation for the instrument. Her reaction, while seemingly polite, evokes a warm feeling in me, causing a blush to rise on my cheeks. Unlike other girls who tend to overreact and behave a certain way merely to create intrigue, I find Princess Changying’s honest and quiet disposition more appealing. She exudes a sense of depth and character, in contrast to those who are only concerned with superficial matters like their outfits and jewelry.
Though I know she doesn’t have feelings for me yet, I hope to win her over, eventually. “Princess Changying brought up the idea of me taking a concubine after we have a son,” I mention, reflecting on the conversation. Leaning against the bare wall behind me, crossing my arms and feet, I continue, “We birds are loyal creatures that mate for life. We don’t seek new partners unless one of us passes away. My father, for instance, remarried after my mother, the empress, died. I guess you could say I come from a complicated family.”
“I doubt your family is as complicated and multi-layered as mine,” she replies, her attention still on the flute she holds. I nod in agreement with her statement and then try to lighten the mood by saying, “Perhaps, but the reason why an onion is so delicious is because of all its layers.”
“Yes, and onions burn your eyes and make you cry when handling them,” she responds dryly, instantly making me regret the comparison. My voice softens as I ask, “Do you cry, Princess?” I pull out a handkerchief from my sleeve, but she glances up at me, bothered and uncertain, and declares, “Only on the inside, so keep your handkerchief.”
Despite trying to hold back a chuckle, it escapes my lips. “This isn’t for your tears. You have ink smudged all over your cheek.”