Chapter 8
Prince Ruilin~
“My father is coming today and bringing along an important guest from the capital who plans to sponsor the temple.” It’s Ya Qi, the girl who I fear wants to eat me.
She is standing in and covering the entire doorway with her broad frame. I find it shocking that anyone who lives on the food served at the temple is as round as she is. “Abbess said you are to take your things and stay in the storage building until they are gone.” Ya Qi folds her thick arms across her chest. “One can’t trust the lustful blood that runs through you.”
Yi Nuo quietly gathers her bedding and pillow, tucking them gingerly under her arm without a single complaint. As she ambles away, she doesn’t even spare Ya Qi a snide glare. Not a single look of reproach. And that’s the thing with Yi Nuo. She never complains. Not a whimper, not a mutter, not when she has every reason to do so. She accepts every unfairness with a quiet resolve. She lets the others mistreat her, yet she never argues or fights back.
Just the day before last, the rest of them went to the hillside to harvest spring bamboo shoots, tender bracken, and young fiddlehead ferns. Not Yi Nuo. She was made to stay behind, meditating thoroughly alone in the chilly temple while the others gossiped and giggled outside in the sun. Now, for reasons I cannot even begin to understand, she is being kicked out of the shared bedroom with her fellow convent sisters and sent to the storage room. It may be a messy storehouse cluttered with broken tools, discarded mats, and other miscellaneous items, but I have a feeling Yi Nuo would rather sleep there on a hard floor than stay with a crowd where she’s not welcome. Her banishment, though drastic, perfectly helps me avoid my own uncomfortable living situation.
I have very little to no experience with the female kind. As I am saving myself for my princess, yet all the time, I have been made to endure what no proper man should ever have to. I have suffered through being surrounded by over two dozen girls dressing and undressing in my unfortunate presence. Every evening, they often sit in their nightgowns, adorned in a private state of undress only their husbands should see, braiding each other’s long hair and whispering about each other. Granted, they think I am a bird. A mere green bee-eater. Nonetheless, they have exhibited no sense of modesty whatsoever.
I have been keeping my eyes pinched shut tightly when they do, but the fact remains; I am in the same room with the females, and one day, if my future bride Princess Changying asks what I did during her trial, I fear I will have to tell her the truth. I can’t lie to my flawless princess; I can’t hide what she will surely see as nothing short of shameful.
My life has become a mess.
Yi Nuo walks with her head held high, treading out through the main building with no complaint whatsoever. It is as though what bothers the rest of the girls—even strong, bold Ya Qi—bothers her not at all. She is content; she is mild; she is calm as ever. She leaves without argument or protest, even though there is every reason to put up a fight.
She strolls leisurely along unfamiliar paths, seemingly unconcerned about being excluded. She pauses to glance carefully at my cage, checking on me. Passing the pond and stone lanterns, she moves slowly and deliberately down a steep path leading away from the buildings. She doesn’t stop until she reaches a dilapidated storage shed at the garden’s edge—a wood and stone structure, like a stable or house, with a single window. Yi Nuo pushes open the sole door, as if entering a palace. Perhaps, for her, it is a welcome change from her shared room, the Abbess’s chambers, and the temple itself.
Inside, she settles her bedding and carefully places my cage beside it. I am astonished! How could anyone expect a girl to live in such a place? What kind of squalor is this?! A proper room it is not!
The building is not a stable or a place for horses. The longer I look, the bigger it seems. It looks like a warehouse or a very large storage facility. It is filled with odds and ends of furniture. Some are covered by cloth, and most are broken and useless. Rakes, shovels, and other tools are also mostly broken and useless. It is not a proper room with proper things. Yet she is now smiling, already treating it like the sunny room of her own.
Not a word does she speak. Willing as ever, she simply goes to the bedding, gives it a shake, and makes her bed. As she arranges her things on the chilly floor, she looks at me. Her eyes are so large and so dark that they seem to fill her entire face.
“I didn’t get a chance to get any grubs, but I picked up this caterpillar for you from the tomato plant outside,” she says after so long a silence.
She holds her palm flat and brings it to the side of my cage. I am stunned. What cruelty is this?
“This is for you, Pretty Boy.” She watches me. “I want you to get well.”
I want that too, and not just because the sooner I’m well, the sooner I can leave this nightmare of a place. But this is too much. I won’t eat a caterpillar. I might as well eat dirt.
“It’s good for you. It has plenty of nutrients,” she says, still holding it out for me to take.
“Mortal, you’ve crossed a line! I’m not a bug eater. I’m a Phoenix Prince, stuck in my Phoenix form,” I chirp, my dignity offended.
“Maybe it’s too big. In the wild, the mother feeds her baby from her mouth,” she says, bringing her hand to her mouth and biting it in half. I gasp in horror! I warble weakly, feeling faint and seeing stars behind my eyes. I am unused to seeing such violence and barbarism. I shiver, and she watches closely, expectantly.
“Look at you, shivering from hunger. How about now?” she says, spitting out the two pieces of what was one caterpillar moments ago. I cringe and shake in horror. My feathers are all ruffled from fear and disgust. How does she expect me to eat such a foul thing?
She puts the pieces into the cage. “Go ahead, eat it.”
I’d rather starve and die.
“How will you get better if you don’t eat? After this wonderful meal, you’ll have to eat what I do, since I can’t leave until Ya Qi’s father leaves.” She strokes my head and neck, urging, “Please, Pretty Boy.” She scratches under my chin, down my orange chest, and belly as her fingers descend even further than that.
I squawk hysterically. “No, no, no! You’re going too low!! Stop fondling me, you indecent mortal! Not past my navel. I’m saving my innocence for Princess Changying!”
Her fingers trace my abdomen to below my belly button, leaving me no option but to devour the caterpillar. With a pleased smile, she pulls her fingers away and steps back.
That was close. Who cares about dignity when my virginity was at stake?
Yi Nuo~
Whenever Ya Qi’s father comes to the temple, I am ordered to keep my distance, as my mother’s shameful nature supposedly flows through my veins, and there’s a concern I might enchant and seduce him as my mother did to my father.
I often ponder what could have driven my mother, who spent her entire life in a convent, to break her sacred vows, fornicate, and flee with a man she hardly knew. I don’t know my mother’s or father’s names. Conversations about them are rare, unless my mother’s mistakes are used as cautionary tales for the other girls. Even Mother Abbess remains silent about her and doesn’t defend her or me, which leads most of the girls to believe the rumors that I am some kind of temptress. Why would I want to seduce a portly man three or four times my age with a stomach that resembles a watermelon, that waddles rather than walks with his feet turned out like a duck, and spits when he talks? In fact, why would I, a nun apprentice, want a man at all?
“Do I seem like a temptress to you, Pretty boy?” I ask as I offer him a piece of apple, which he devours eagerly. I never realized birds were so fond of apples.
After struggling to get him to eat for a week, it seems he’s having a change of heart because tonight he’s devoured rice, apples, and the blackberries that Feng Jun Hie found while digging for them in the forest and passed to me through the window. It would be much simpler if he ate what I eat instead of insects. Then he’ll be well enough to fly away. How wonderful it would be to fly away from this place and see the world.
“I wish that in my next life, I could be a bird just like you.” Gently, I open the cage and place him on my bed.
His wing is healing, and he can stand on his leg again, making the cage seem too cramped for him to stretch his other wing. “Why don’t you sleep next to me tonight?” I suggest softly, surprised by his response. He suddenly chirps and squawks frantically, fluffing up all his feathers, especially the vivid green ones on his head. “Oh, I get it! I didn’t realize you’d be this thrilled. If I’d known you were feeling lonely, I would have let you sleep with me from the beginning.”
Holding him close, I nuzzle my lips against his hair, whispering, “I’ll keep you warm all night, so you won’t be scared. We can’t have light. No candles allowed tonight,” I add, though perhaps it’s me who needs comforting in the dark.
With the candle snuffed, I hold him close by the moonlit window, our only light. “Soon you’ll fly to the moon and leave me,” I whisper, burying my face in his soft feathers. Suddenly, voices nearby startle me; I slip into the shadows, unable to resist the lure of eavesdropping.
“I thought you were dead.” The words meet my ears, sharp and clear. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. Our mother even had the temple offer prayers to you for the last fifteen years,” he says.
Who is this stranger? It is not Ya Qi’s father’s voice. It is deeper, and he doesn’t cough every three words as Marquis Sui does.
Silence, then a terse response, but this time I know the voice. I recognize it even in the absence of his carefree tone. It is Master Zhiming. “The man you knew is dead,” he says.
Without even thinking, I’m holding the Pretty Boy tighter and closer as if he’s as excited as I am at hearing this intriguing conversation.
“Second brother, you should return home,” the stranger’s voice says, soft but stony. “Our Emperor brother hasn’t been the same since you left. He only trusted you, and our nephew, the Crown Prince, died from smallpox two years ago without an heir. The Emperor hasn’t named a new Crown Prince, Second brother,” he continues.
“The man you knew is no longer,” Master Zhiming says, each word heavy like stones that sink in water. “And he is not a man anymore.” His voice floated away as if the wind had shifted. I lean so much toward the window, the Pretty boy pecks me like he’s warning me I’m going to trip and fall.
“The rumors of your castration are true?” The stranger’s words return, “Our mother would be devastated to hear you cut off your own bloodline. Dege, we were at war, and you were ordered to kill that family. You gained no pleasure from it.”
His voice drops so low I barely hear it. “A man who takes lives,” Master Zhiming says. “Should be granted none of his own.” There’s something about his tone that makes my heart hurt for him.
“Second brother, it was done out of necessity.”
Master Zhiming chuckles, but I can tell it is dryly sardonic. “Then tell that to the ghosts,” he says, “who visit me every time I close my eyes.”
“Don’t come back to this temple,” my teacher warns. “There is nothing here.”
“Or maybe there is!” the other man says, his breath loud as wind in the brush. “Perhaps a hidden child that you’re protecting for our brother! Like the Emperor’s son, who could be the next Crown Prince!”
“Haha! You’ve read too many fables. The only true male in this convent is a wounded bird,” Master Zhiming says. His voice grows faint. “Go home, Third brother. Don’t come back,” he calls, his receding voice trailing as he goes.
Bai Qian~
When Migu tells me Ye Hua broke the shield and is waiting outside by the Lotus Ponds, I’m not surprised. I had expected this. In fact, I’m shocked it took him this long.
He thinks I’ve been avoiding him, and I have. He thinks I’m not ready to face the circumstances, which is true. None of this do I deny. I don’t deny anything anymore. The biggest lesson I’ve learned from dying and resurrecting is that pretense is a waste of time and energy.
“You should have come with Mo Yuan, then poor Migu wouldn’t have to serve tea twice.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I speak to his back as he is still staring off past the Lotus ponds.” I hope your wife knows of your visit, which I expect to be short, so excuse me for not inviting you inside the Fox Den.”
Ye Hua doesn’t reply, making me wonder why he’s here.
In the past, his lack of conversation used to drive my inquisitive nature insane, as I needed to know what was going on in his head—what he was thinking and feeling—but that was then, and now. Now, I am someone who doesn’t need any more clamour in my head.
“Well then, have a safe trip home.” I say, turning to go when he says, “I waited fifty thousand years for you.”
I stop in my tracks as a million replies fly through my mind, for I had been expecting this. Am I to thank him? Applaud him for his patience? Shake his hand for a job well done? Yet with all these replies, I choose, “Yes, I heard.”
He seems like a mirage to me, the way his shadow glides across the grass, the long sweep of his hair trailing behind him like a dark river that never stops flowing. Is he coming to me from the past? From a dream? I once imagined this moment so vividly, him striding toward me and rushing the last few steps, pulling me to him in a crushing embrace, his warmth and presence engulfing all my doubts. I imagined him calling me his wife again, whispering my name with earnest promises of a life I had foolishly hoped for. No, I had foolishly expected these things to be waiting for me. But those fantasies, much like the illusions Li Peng’s wine conjured, are not real and never happened.
It’s been three years of trying to accept the impossible love that was. Three years of trying to accept the love that could never be. Three years of learning that the pain of Ye Hua letting me go was easier to bear than the pain of loving him. Now I’ve come to understand that what we once had is over, since arriving at this point where nothing but memories dwell between us like a ghost. No, not even that. Nothing remains here between us but history.
Yet both “nothing” and “history” are false, I realize now, gazing into his dark eyes, witnessing the inescapable melancholy mirrored in my own. I avert my gaze from the ground to the sky, but it lingers between us, a dust mote in twilight.
“Qian Qian…” he stumbles over the term that shouldn’t have power over me anymore, yet I would be lying if I said they didn’t.
“Bai Qian.” Ye Hua lowers his head, his eyes brimming with remorse and yearning as he gazes at me like a wayward child. His face, marked by lines of sorrow and inner conflict, reveals his struggle between duty and desire. “Are you well?” he inquires softly. “The children say you’re fine, yet I couldn’t help but worry.”
A charged tension fills the space between us, and I can feel the prickling of the hairs on my arms under his steady gaze. I fold my arms across my chest repeatedly, hunching my shoulders as if trying to erect a barrier against the discomfort. I am shutting myself off from him, from the past we lost, and from a future that no longer exists. I convince myself that if I close off completely, the pain will lessen and never return.
“There is no need to worry. I’m well enough,” I say flatly, “How’s Bai Lianhua?”
“Just the same,” Ye Hua replies, and his words pierce my heart with a sting I resent deeply. I don’t want to feel, to care at all. “She seems to have truly enjoyed your company and speaks of you always.” His measured words, cautious yet familiar, stir memories of what once was—both comforting and unsettling. “Thank you for being so kind to her.”
In that moment, memories of Bai Lianhua’s osmanthus garden that has replaced my peach orchard and her beautiful children with Ye Hua rush back, and I can’t help but realize that my life might have mirrored hers. The resurgence of these feelings infuriates me, especially now, after everything I’ve been through. When will I learn? When will I stop tormenting myself?
“Of course,” I add, though uncertainty laces my tone. “Bai Lianhua was good to our children, so…” The thought hangs unspoken—must I remain silent too? Are we even? Should I feel grateful? Instead, a bitter resentment stirs within me, not toward his gratitude, which is sincere, but at my own heart that tricks me into believing things aren’t over—time and time again when they truly are.
Suddenly, the emotional exhaustion of encountering both Mo Yuan and Ye Hua in one day, mere hours apart, overwhelms me. It’s more than I expected; I feel conflicted and drained by the weight of my own history.
“You should return to Bai Lianhua. I’m going to rest. Thank you for visiting.” My words come out clipped and my demeanor distant, yet somehow it feels both overwhelming and insufficient. I am uncertain about what is happening, unsure of what I truly feel. It seems odd to address Ye Hua as merely a visitor—even if, in a way, he is one. I leave him to wrestle with the ghosts of our past, phantoms I had thought long banished. I don’t see him off; he lingers by the lotus ponds in the fading glow of sunset, amidst unspoken promises. Yet, he calls out towards my back as I depart. “Bai Qian, do you resent me for not waiting longer?”
In that instant, a surge of anger ignites within me, directed at him, at myself, or perhaps both. Caught in uncertainty, I avoid turning to face him as I speak. “No, Ye Hua. You are a man with physical needs, and had waited long enough and were ready to move on, so you did. How can I blame you for wanting to forget and start anew?”
His voice is soft. “I never let go, never forgot you. I loved her more and deeper because I saw your reincarnation in her.”
How dare he!? I scoff in spite of myself. The sound of his words sets my blood aflame and fills my heart with furious disbelief. How could he even think such a thing?
Clenching my fists, pressing my fingernails into the skin of my palms, I retort through gritted teeth, “Don’t tell me you loved her more because you believed she was my reincarnation. You chased after her and claimed her, even while knowing full well she was Bai Lianhua, after you’d already let me go. You promised her, ‘Once we make love, it’s forever,’ so don’t dare say otherwise.”
“You let me go, which is fine, and I don’t resent you.” My voice becomes higher, sharper, and cracks in ways I didn’t expect of myself. “You waited fifty thousand years for me, but Ye Hua, I would have waited until the end of time for you and would never have let you go.”
“But now, I have been gracious and come to terms with you living and loving someone with a part of my soul, so I hope you will extend me the same courtesy if I grow to feel for someone who shares your likeness.”
The bitterness of my own truth spills out before I can stop it, rising like uncontained water. Silence falls between us, a dense and suffocating stillness.
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up Mo Yuan, but Ye Hua needs to understand that I can live a fulfilling life without him as my partner, that I can find happiness in this world we’ve made apart from each other.
Anything is possible.
My beloved peach orchard: why can’t I have it back, and who decreed its planting limited to the Nine Heavens?