Chapter 13
Yi Nuo~
He cradled a glass jar filled with intricately folded paper swans, handling it like a vessel of precious gems. The glass caught the light and cast tiny rainbows on the walls. With utmost care, he extracted one swan and unfolded it, his fingers moving with the gentle precision reserved for treasures, and to him, this truly was one.
“Look, Yi Nuo,” he said, his voice filled with awe, as if unveiling a sacred relic. Princess Changyang folded these. She’s my future wife.” His eyes, luminous and full of admiration, sparkled more with each layer of paper revealed. “She had to go somewhere, but she made these for me so I wouldn’t miss her too much. Yet, they make me miss her more.”
As the little paper swan transformed back into a small square in his hands, a broad, warm smile spread across his face at whatever message it held, his expression one of pure joy. “She and I were meant to be,” he declared confidently, his voice resonating with certainty. “We have so much in common.” With pride, he turned the paper towards me, and I read the words “toffee sweet potatoes” written in delicate, flowing script.
“Do you see this?” he asked, his voice brimming with affection and deep emotion for his beloved future wife. “It’s fate. I, too, love toffee sweet potatoes.”
His eyes shut in blissful contentment as he held the paper against his heart, as though it were the most cherished love letter, making a soft rustling sound against his chest. “I can hardly wait to read tomorrow’s message. I’m tempted to open them all, but she prepared one for each day she’s away. Even though it’s tempting, I have to respect Princess Changyang’s wishes. But I’ll share them only with you.”
“Now I must leave you alone to extend my greetings to Empress Bai… Empress Bai Lianhua, not High Goddess Empress Bai Qian, is the Princess’s biological mother. Empress Lianhua is Princess Changying’s stepmother, and it’s her birthday,” he paused, chuckling at his rambling and perhaps my expression. “All these names must sound like a foreign language to you,” he said, and indeed they did. “But I won’t be gone long. Yi Nuo, remember, this is your home now. You’re free to do whatever you wish.”
My insides clenched, an icy knot tightening in my gut, a sickening twist. Was this my home now? Did that mean everyone and everything, from what feels like yesterday, was gone? I wanted to ask, but somehow I knew. I knew the answers to the questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
He pivoted on his heels once more; the movement causing the light to dance and catch the tiny red gemstones embedded in the smooth metal hairpin nestled in his long, glossy hair. The corners of his lips curved as he offered a gentle smile tinged with an enigmatic certainty before leaving me alone with Lue Lue.
She is a servant with a face as delicate and flawless as a porcelain doll, her skin smooth. Only a few tiny freckles break up the flawless skin on her nose. Her jet-black hair is meticulously styled into two perfectly symmetrical buns on either side of her head, each adorned with vibrant green chrysanthemum blossoms tucked neatly behind them.
Lue Lue looked like me—a young girl my age, if not a few years younger—except for two tiny antennae sprouting from her forehead. Like a heartbeat, a soft, pulsing glow emanated from her small frame. Curious but hesitant to be intrusive, I waited for an explanation. In a sweet voice, she told me that bioluminescence was common for fireflies, like herself. She said she would stay brightly lit for days when excited or frightened.
“Prince Ruilin told us you saved him,” she said, her voice carrying a melodic buzz that dances through the air like a song.
An impish, beaming smile and twinkling eyes showed her amusement as she leaned in. “Is it true Lady Yi Nuo named him Pretty Boy?” she asked, a cascade of giggles escaping her, barely stifled behind her delicate hands as she reveals the bird I rescued is none other than Ruilin, the Crown Prince of the Phoenix Clan.
This clan was one of the most revered in the realm.
“Lady Yi Nuo must not make her bed or organize her room as you did earlier,” Lue Lue said, looking startled that I had been doing such things. “That’s Lue Lue’s role.” As if asserting her purpose, she takes me by the hand and leads me to a vanity, her touch soft yet resolute in servitude.
Lue Lue tilted her head, looking perplexed at where she should start with my tangled hair. But it doesn’t take long to unravel the twists that have formed. Her hands worked with attentiveness that reminds me of Abbess Mother; each movement is patient and deliberate, and I felt hot tears stream down my face. At this moment, I realized that, at all those times, I had thought and complained she had been too rough and had taken too much time. She had been so very gentle. Abbess Mother had been slow, savoring her time being my mother.
“My lady possesses the most exquisite hair, yet a good washing will transform it into a radiant cascade of gleaming brilliance,” Lue Lue marveled with wide-eyed curiosity at the knotted locks. “These tangles are so thick they could cradle a family of birds,” she exclaimed, beholding the wild clusters. “But you’re fortunate, for I am no bird and have tamed many such snarls before. Prince Ruilin, with his wild mane, loathed having it brushed as a child. He used to fly and hide.”
Her smile was tinged with nostalgia, and she untangled my hair with a tenderness that sent a torrent of memories crashing over me. My heart aches with the overwhelming surge, a tidal wave of loss and longing for that which I had desperately been torn from.
“Oh, dear. Is Lue Lue pulling too hard?” she asked, stopping mid-stroke when she saw my tears. I nodded my head side to side, unable to find my voice, but I wanted to save her the worry and wanted her to know she was doing fine work.
Suddenly, Lue Lue paused her brushing, her expression softening, and gently wiped my tears with the edge of her sleeve, its smooth fabric caressing against my skin. Her concern was as evident as ink on paper. She frowned at my sorrow, flowing from me like a river after heavy rain. “Lady Yi Nuo’s tears are making Lue Lue cry as well,” she says, as tears form in her eyes, leaving a glistening trail on her cheeks. She explained that she is sensitive to the pain of others and assured me that as long as she is in my service, whenever I cry, she will too.
This world was foreign to me, though I don’t understand her devotion; it is touching, and it’s enough to make me stop, not wanting to burden her with my grief. I took a deep breath, swallowing my sadness as best as I could, and forced a small smile, wishing I could change my heart as easily as I could change my expression.
“Lue Lue understands that Lady Yi Nuo is scared, longing for her home, and overwhelmed, but Prince Ruilin brought you here with a purpose. I’ve known Prince Ruilin since he was a babe in the Empress’s arms, and he is a good and gentle man. He has a plan, and Lady Yi Nuo must place her trust in him,” Lue Lue insisted, her voice firm yet gentle as she helped me undress from my clothes.
Stripping away the plain yet comforting garments of the convent felt like ripping off the very fiber of my past; I was shedding my old life, casting it aside like a snake discards its skin. The realization of this monumental moment crashed over me like a tidal wave, a torrent of tears surging uncontrollably, but this time, I wrenched my face away to hide my vulnerability from Lue Lue’s eyes when she guided me into a bathtub, the most enormous bathtub I’ve ever seen.
Stepping into the warm water, rippling around me, and flower petals swirled against my skin. I covered my breasts with my hands, wishing I had extra hands to cover much more of my nudity. Being undressed around my fellow sisters was living in such close quarters every day, but we exercised modesty and never stared at each other. At least I didn’t.
“Lady Yi Nuo possesses skin as smooth and unblemished as a delicate rose petal, and you have a gorgeous figure like a flowing river and as graceful as a swan,” she exclaimed with unabashed enthusiasm. She stared me up and down utterly, oblivious to the blush spreading across my cheeks like a sunrise and the untouched skin of my grown body, which had known only my modest touch.
Her words hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of flowers and spices that wafted through the room. “Yes, it’s a pity that Prince Ruilin has already formed a bond with another. You appear to be around fifteen or so, I would say? You’re at the brink of your first bloom, the perfect age for marriage and childbirth.”
“I don’t see Ruilin like that. We are…” I paused, the words sticking in my throat like a fish bone. What are we exactly? “Friends. We are friends.”
She replied, “Ah, being friends is delightful as well.” Her voice was light and airy as the gentle breeze rustled against the paper screens.
For the rest of the bath, I shyly stared into the water, its surface shimmering with candlelight’s warm, golden reflections. I waited, the gentle splashing a soothing counterpoint to the quiet. With the grace of a practiced hand, Lue Lue dried me with the fluffiest towel imaginable; its unbelievably soft texture a comforting embrace against my skin. She carefully dried my hair, the camellia-scented oil a sweet fragrance as she brushed it until it gleamed like spun silk under the flickering candlelight, finally securing it in a semi-bun with delicate, dangling hairpins. She then dressed me and guided me to stand before a large, ornate copper mirror, its heavy, dark wood frame cool to the touch, carved with intricate patterns of swirling vines and blossoms.
Lue Lue admired her work and exclaimed, “Lady Yi Nuo looks like a princess.”
Standing before me was an unfamiliar figure—a girl enveloped in a flowing green dress, its luxurious silk whispering with every move she made. Delicate flowers adorned the fabric, vibrant and alive with such vivid colors that I could almost inhale the sweet, intoxicating scent of summer they evoked. Each petal was a tiny masterpiece, painted with nature’s palette. Butterflies, their wings intricately stitched with iridescent threads of all colors, seemed ready to flutter away at any moment.
She was a beauty, yes, but a stranger.
Her dark eyes, narrow and deep and shadowed with sorrow, were vast pools threatening to engulf me in their melancholy depths. The reality hit with the force and brilliance of a lightning strike, illuminating the darkest corners of my mind. It dawned on me that I had never truly seen myself before, only catching fleeting, distorted glimpses in the rippling waters of the riverbank or convent ponds, where modesty is a virtue and mirrors were nonexistent.
Yingpei~
My siblings and I are young adults, each on the cusp, hovering at that interim stage when the “young” will soon slip away, leaving us just as adults, yet our impatient childish whining would lead one to assume otherwise.
I’m one of three restless voices rising to a grating chorus, for we cherish our lives too much to waste time here. A-li wants to leave the drama behind and follow Changchang to Kunlun, while I return to Qingqui. For this, our mother can hardly hold us accountable. I believe there’s nothing she desires more than to bring a close to this long, demanding night and return home with me.
“I know your father expects everyone to stay the night,” she declared with a tone that brooks no argument. “There’s been a whirlwind of activity preparing your old rooms for your return. It would be rude to those who previously served you if their efforts were in vain.” Mother has honed her skill in wielding guilt like a weapon, and she fixed us with a piercing gaze, searching for any flicker of resistance in our expressions yet finding none. That seemed to please her. ”Isn’t that so, children?”
She appeared to be suppressing a bubbling laugh that took every ounce of willpower when she delivered words quite similar to what our grandmother used to tell Uncle Bai Zhen, who detested the role of being her unwilling guardian. “You’d do well to spend time with your younger siblings. They are babies, and as the older ones, you should look after them and offer half the fish you catch. That’s what love looks like.”
My brother’s eyes darted, flickering on all our faces, confusion etched on his face, until A-li finally ventured, “Mother, what fish?”
“Please, A-li. I can’t decide what’s more absurd,” She retorted, her face suddenly becoming a mask of stern solemnity most unfitting of her, “your question or the thought that you’d escape the duty. Every fish you ever catch…obviously”
His dangling golden earrings glimmered and swayed with each emphatic word as A-li exclaimed, “What?! I don’t mind sharing, but why must I catch fish at all?!” His voice quivered, infused with incredulity and disbelief. Yet, as the dawning realization of his mother’s jest settled in, he rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation. “Mother, was that meant to be a joke?” he grumbled, his tone laced with lighthearted annoyance. “That was terrible!”
Changchang offered a crooked grin, shaking her head at mother’s clumsy attempt at humor, while I found it utterly hilarious. I slapped my thigh, my laughter bursting forth like a sudden storm. I recalled the stories of Uncle Bai Zhen’s exasperated sighs about the heavy responsibility of looking after mother when she was young, and the noble soul he was for generously sharing half of his catch with her.
“I’d prefer to give them wine to knock them out cold. I’ve discovered babies are most precious when they’re silent, motionless dolls.” Jiejie, Changchang, the eldest female among eight younger siblings, has vehemently declared her intention to shun motherhood. The thought of it sent a shudder through her, imagining her warrior’s physique ruined, unwilling to bear the weight of cumbersome, larger breasts or hips that would only hinder her balance, agility, and strength.
“I want dozens of children,” I declared earnestly. Wouldn’t a Fox den bursting with adorable little Bai snakes and fluffy White Nine-Tailed foxes be heavenly? It’s my ultimate dream.” I sigh dramatically, cupping my face. All that stands in my way is great Uncle Sang Ji. If only great Aunt Shao Xin would heed my wishes and part ways with him to marry me.”
Changchang’s face twisted in disgust, her voice dripping with scorn. “You’re a pervert,” she spat, “obsessed with older women? Unbelievable!” As she criticized my manly desires, she pinched my arm with a swift, sharp motion, causing me to wince in pain.
The sting from Jiejie’s fingers was more excruciating than a punch to the face, and her toe pinches were notoriously infamous, capable of leaving some traumatized for eternity.
“Hey! Jiejie shouldn’t blame me for preferring older women—it’s genetic! Like Father Skylord, like son,” I said, turning to my mother. “Right, Mom?”
“That’s no longer true, Yingpei. Your father has a young wife,” Mother declared. I quickly did the math in my head and felt a wave of revulsion surge through me. “That’s revolting. To match the age gap between Father and Bai Lianhua, I’d have to woo an egg still nestled in an ovary. I’d much rather shower affection on a real woman, one who’s matured like a fine wine—smooth, silky, and exquisite.” My remarks were met with an eruption of laughter from Mother, shaking with its intensity. Is it normal for her to be so wildly entertained by us, or are we among the lucky few graced with such a mischievous and spirited mother?
It took her moments to become earnest again before saying, “Yingpei, enough of your foolishness, and Changchang, stop pinching your younger brother this instant! We will leave tomorrow after your morning greetings to your parents, but for now, all of you march over and bid goodnight to your Father and stepmother, assuming they aren’t engulfed in other more romantic matters!”
Bai Lianhua~
His temper doesn’t explode like I wish it would. Instead, it seethes simmering just under the surface. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Ye Hua furious, but it’s the first time his wrath is aimed at me. His gentle smile at the celebration evaporated when we slipped behind closed doors.
One would assume that his mood would lead to his neglect of me, but it doesn’t. He helps me undress with that familiar, tender precision, carefully brushes out my hair as he always does—yet he won’t meet my eyes or speak to me. Tonight, for the first time since our wedding night, he refuses me sexually. He claims urgent work, tells me to sleep without him… and for this, I blame her.
“Why are you angry at me? What have I done wrong?” The giddiness of my wine fades, and a headache sets in. My voice cracks, tears sting my eyes, and my lips tremble. I’m not accustomed to his iciness, the cold treatment he usually reserves for the world.
Desperation claws at my chest. I cling to his robe, my fingers twisting in the silk collar to anchor myself to him. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Please, Ye Hua. Tell me!”
His cold voice cuts through me, flat and unforgiving. “You shouldn’t have asked Qian Qian to dance for you.”
“Qian Qian!?” My heart lurches. “Don’t—Don’t call her that name! She doesn’t want you to call her by that, nor do I! I hate it!” I can’t stop the sobs; the anger and indignation I swallowed all night erupt in a torrent.
He straightens, eyes complex but haunted. “Qian Qian isn’t a woman to amuse you. She is an Empress—born of one of my father’s four original clans, pure White-Tailed Fox blood flowing through her veins. She is Gugu and demands reverence, not your condescension. Do you not see she has repeatedly bent backwards for you, showing her benevolence?”
I grit my teeth. “She isn’t benevolent! She hides her condescension for me behind her smiles and flaunts that she still wields power over you. Ye Hua, I’m an Empress too!” I shout, my voice hoarse and raw enough to shatter glass.
He fixes me with a stony stare. “It’s not the same. Your title is granted by marriage. Hers is ancestral, unbroken for millennia. You forced her into that dance, offending her before the Eight Vast Wildernesses and Four Seas. Do you even understand how monumental your insult was?”
The words hang between us. He slumps onto the bed’s edge, shoulders heavy with grief and frustration. Burying his face in his hands, he finally breaks the silence. “Why did you do it?” And I feel my resentment toppling down around us both.
How can he act this enraged just because I made her do a little dance?
“I exposed her for what she truly is, and she danced like a harlot. Now I see why Su Jin and Xuan Nu loathed her so intensely.” I declare, but his roar crashes over me with such force that I shrink back, terrified. It’s a pitiful feeling to fear the gentlest man alive.
He growls, “Don’t you dare sully Qian Qian’s name by uttering it alongside that demon who took everything from me! You’ve made a spectacle of yourself. It was your night, your moment, and she did nothing to take that away from you, but she captivated everyone with that mating dance because you cornered her.”
“Took everything from you!? Finally, you admit that your Qian Qian was your everything. How you must regret not waiting another three hundred years for her?” My legs crumble beneath me, as if they’ve been knocked out from under me. How can he call me a spectacle while admitting that Bai Qian ensorcelled everyone? Why doesn’t he see that the more he defends her, the more I loathe her?
“A mating dance at my birthday?” My mouth goes dry. My resentment burns my eyes. “Were you jealous that other men enjoyed what you think still belongs to you? Did she stir something within you, Ye Hua? Did you feel heat in your loins?”
“What do you think? I was once her mate. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, and then there’s my brother Mo Yuan. I’ve only heard him play once, but tonight you forced him, compelled him to break free from his stoic nature and the children. You offended their mother. Why can’t you see you’re making them alienate you, me, us?” His words collide with mine, leaving me stunned and breathless.
He grasps my face with customary tenderness, but his dark eyes search mine with a fervent desperation, yet all I can see is a furious red as he arrogantly claims the title of her mate.
“Brother-in-law didn’t seem too bothered, did he? It’s not me. The children have been distant and cold to me since Bai Qian returned. Why are you twisting everything out of order and making things a nightmare?” My voice rises sharply, fueled by a storm of emotions. I shouldn’t shout at him, but I can’t control myself. “You waited fifty thousand years after she died for her reincarnation. Will you endure that again for me?”
“Hua Hua.” He sighs my name as if it were a weight on his shoulder, making me feel like the burden I’ve become. He drops his forehead against mine, his warm breath mingling with the salty tears that streak my face. “Yes, if that’s what you desire,” he murmurs, but his response only deepens the chasm of my anguish.
“I want you to wait forever, never to remarry after me!” I scream in his face. “You promised me eternal life with you. You are the Lord of the Heavens, yet here I am, fading away, and you can’t do anything to stop this. Can you see the injustice in this? Can you not understand my pain? I’m the one leaving everything I love! After my death, I demand you touch no one else and cling. Cling to my specter as you did hers. Promise me you will!”
His tears mix with mine. “I promise,” he replies with a weary, resigned sigh as he stands to leave, and in that moment, a sickening certainty churns in my gut—I know he’s going to her. Weakness washes over me like a heavy tide, and I murmur, barely audible, “You’re going to her, aren’t you? Ye Hua, please don’t leave me alone. Stay here with me, husband. It’s my birthday.”
“Yes, I have no choice,” he said quietly. “I must apologize for what happened and make things right with the children before the damage is irreversible. Hua Hua, I love you, but please don’t push me. No one enjoys being backed into a corner. We don’t know how much time we have left together. Please don’t ruin what we have.”
Changchang~
We’ve learned to speak loudly when entering Father’s courtyard, which leads to his bedchamber. This wasn’t always the case. Through a series of awkward trials and errors—mostly embarrassing, flustering mistakes and walk-ins that made us wish for an amnesia potion to erase the memory of what we saw and heard—we’ve discovered that our Father is quite fond of procreation.
A-li insists it was significantly more horrific and intense when he was with Mother. Even taking their passion outside of their chambers and out into the open. But I can’t even begin to fathom such a nightmare and wonder how he made the time to fulfill his official duties while acting like an animal in rut. The very thought of my father pursuing mother without pants is a grotesque image I refuse to entertain, even though I am cursed with some of my mother’s memories still.
Yingpei walks backward, facing us, his bouncing steps light and playful. “I know Mother plans to get drunk with the enigmatic Ghost Lord Li Peng, and I wanted to join in on the festivities,” he announces with a mischievous grin spreading from one side of his face to the other, wide. “I’ve heard tales of his exquisite wine, and we all know how I feel about wine.” His eyes twinkle with anticipation.
Yingpei has inherited Mother’s fondness and tolerance for wine among all my siblings. Remarkably, he becomes giddy but never intoxicated, defying the usual effects. Where Ying’er and I like father turn a vivid, apple-faced red after just a few sips, and A-li indulges with enthusiasm, he lacks Didi’s impressive tolerance. Being the older brother, A-li refuses to be outdone by his didi, so he drinks until he collapses, always insisting that wine makes him sleepy, hence his deep slumber. But we all know the truth behind his bravado.
We all know the truth.
“I wouldn’t touch a drop. It’s rumored he uses Essence of Gu and other crazy venoms in his wines.” I say, catching A-li’s attention. “Without Ying’er here, it wouldn’t be wise for you to get poisoned. You two could very well drop dead.”
Yingpei is full of energy and excitement. He hurriedly scurries around and suddenly leaps onto A-li’s back. A-li hooks his arms around our brother’s legs with a mischievous grin, effortlessly hoisting him higher onto his back. With a triumphant stance, A-li puffs out his chest, scoffs, and speaks dismissively. “I’m not intimidated by Essence of Gu! Essence of Gu should be afraid of me! Now I’m intrigued and interested in drinking too! Where’d they say they were going?”
“Jiejie, are you in too? Come on! Let’s party!” Yingpei asks with a grin hanging on both ears, and I snicker at my ridiculous brothers until we hear Father and Bai Lianhua arguing—a first as far as I’m aware.
It would be appropriate to give them their privacy, but what we overhear stops us in our tracks, and my blood boils with an intensity I can barely contain. Bai Lianhua’s dislike and animosity towards mother are no secrets; they have been simmering beneath the surface like a pot ready to boil over.
We have allowed her verbal insults to slide at Mother’s request. But to hear Bai Lianhua demand that Father stay alone and unmarried after she dies is more than I can take. My teeth grind together with a fury that feels like it could shatter bone, and my hands ball into tight fists at my sides.
She’s fortunate Ying’er isn’t here. Meimei would have lost her temper, and her head might have practically exploded off her shoulders in a rage.
My mother told us Bai Lianhua was born with the kindest and gentlest part of her soul. I truly believed that, once. But now, she’s changed, hardened, sharp as broken glass. She makes Father bleed on her edges, and though it should pain me to say it, it doesn’t. My brutal honesty tells me I won’t be devastated by her death. Although my heart aches for my father, soon to be alone once more, and for my youngest siblings, infants who will never know their mother.
I exhale through my nose, doing my best to calm myself, though the breath is hot and sharp in my nostrils, leaving me lightheaded and dizzy. My teeth grind against each other, and my fists clench together as I rush toward Father’s chamber, fueled by a furious determination. My legs move on their own as I take long and quick strides, as the overheard words churn in my mind.
This is the end of my patience.
I refuse to let Bai Lianhua think she can demand anything this outrageous of my Father, especially forcing him to live an eternity in mourning after her death. Reaching the steps, I’m ready to race up them and confront Bai Lianhua, when suddenly, a jerk makes me halt. It’s Yingpei’s hand on my shoulder, and his Fox’s hearing alerting him to the impending tumult. Someone is coming, approaching footsteps echoing, drawing closer by the second.
I stiffen when I see Father coming out, who almost runs into me. Our eyes meet, and I can’t turn away from the complex tapestry of emotions etched across his face. There’s a mixture of surprise, weariness, and embarrassment, like a heavy cloak draped over him. My anger wanes as I see something more profound in his dark eyes, a raw vulnerability reaching out to us like a silent plea. Father looks like he’s aged ten thousand years in this one evening alone, and my heart softens even as I feel an unspoken, unnecessary apology emanating from him.
A-li is the first to break the tense silence. “Father, we just got here!” he exclaims, flashing his perfect smile dramatically. “Mother told us to come to say goodnight, so here we are, right?” A-li turns to us for support, widening his eyes and smiling with comical exaggeration.
Yingpei trips over his words, stuttering when he’s nervous, a trait that betrays him whenever he tries to mask the truth with his evasions. “Ye.Ye.Yes.. Father Skylord,” he fumbles over his clumsy words, an awkward grin plastering his pale face. “We heard nothing. We didn’t hear you guys arguing.”
Oh, Yingpei!
A-li and I shoot accusing glares at our younger brother, for Yingpei is the worst liar between Heaven and Earth. His cheeks and the tips of his ears grow pink as he stares down at his shoes and mumbles under his breath. “Honestly, we heard nothing, and absolutely no arguing,” his voice peters yet somehow goes up several octaves as he falters again, proving he lacks the cunning of a proper Fox.
Father seems relieved at the charade we’ve put on for him and finally finds his voice. “Where is your mother?” he asks, the hesitation in his words almost masked by his measured tone. “I need to speak to her.”
A-li beams unnaturally, nudging me. “She planned to stroll by the Lotus Ponds with Ghost Lord Li Peng,” he says calmly.
My cheeks burn, and my carefully crafted composure crumbles. But I take his icy hands, gently squeeze, and smile. “I, we all love you, father,” I say, wishing my words could offer him whatever he needs but would never voice.
I’m not alone in this sentiment.
“Yes, Father Skylord, we love you,” Yingpei says, and A-li rubs Father’s arm. “Dad, we’re here for you and always will be.”
Ghost Lord Li Peng~
“Here, see. It’s still here!” The scent of wine was heavy on her lips as she grumbled, her voice a low growl, as the delicate tendril of hair that had slipped free from her elegant updo during her dance dangled persistently over her eyes.
Her fingers, tipped with sharp, fox-like nails, furiously scratched at the rough, unyielding surface that bore her name and bound her to the Skylord. The determination etched into her features was as fierce as her expression when she dared to whisk her Kunlun brother Ling Yu away from under my father’s watchful gaze and guards.
I could never fathom how my brother Li Jing mistook her for a man.
She views me merely as a drinking friend, a companion in her world that sometimes becomes lonely. Yet, I am left to wonder if she genuinely cannot perceive, or perhaps chooses to overlook, the reality that my feelings for her extend far beyond the realm of mere friendship.
Her dance awakened within me a longing I had never realized was possible, a yearning that stirred the very depths of my soul. But I was not the only one caught under her spell. High God Mo Yuan and the Skylord, men of such stature and power that I could never hope to rival, were equally entranced. Their eyes were fixed upon her, filled with an unmistakable yearning redder than the celebratory lanterns. Burning as brightly as the sun, illuminating their desires, which they did not try to hide if they could. Obvious to all.
“Move over. My demon’s claws are sharper than yours. Let me have a go at it.” I nudged her aside with my shoulders, making her snicker like a girl. My taloned nails created only sparks into the immovable rock. But, it was no use. No mark, no scratch, no sign that I might ever free her of what destiny insists is true for her.
She shook her head and tisked her tongue at me. Her judgment of me being a useless man in her eyes dripped from her scowl. I’m the only one enjoying the challenge, yet unwilling to admit momentary defeat. “Some stones can only be cut with the same stone. What if we break off a corner to scratch your name off?” I suggested.
I was half joking, but her attitude buoyed me, and my spirits lifted slightly. “That makes sense.” She replied, “I’ll try it. Now, stand back and I’ll use my fan to nudge off this piece here.” She snapped open her Jade Purity Fan and took a deep breath, bracing herself to channel her power to pry apart what time had let stand.
Before she could even begin, I grabbed her wrist tightly. “Wait! What if you break off the wrong names meant to be together? What are the implications of such a thing? Will they suddenly wake up hating one another or… will their children vanish into thin air?”
“Don’t be foolish,” She rejected. “I have lived and died and been reborn for this, and I refuse to let this thing confuse me. Plus, all is fair in love and war.”
I raised an eyebrow curiously. “Qian Qian, who are you at war with?”
“Fate!” She cried, the ferocity in her voice almost startling me, but making me chuckle. “Now move over.” She ordered snappily, “I’ll decide my fated partner and not some damn rock that is infallible. It’s a joke.”
I stopped her again and posed, “If it’s a joke, why not leave it alone?”
“That’s up to me because I don’t want to!” She spat but abruptly halted her magic as a sharp throat-clearing froze us in place. Our eyes locked, wide and startled, as though caught in a meticulously planned trap.
“There’s someone behind us, ” she whispers, pointing out the obvious. We spring up like startled rabbits, frantically using our bodies to shield the stone as if to hide the evidence, suddenly feeling like mischievous children caught red-handed with their hands in the candy jar.
It’s the Skylord. The humiliation is palpable.
“Oh, I…I.. we didn’t know you were there, Ye Hua,” she stammers, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. “We were…” She gestures wildly at the surrounding billows of pink clouds. “We were strolling and noticed the spectacular view from up here, right, Li Peng? When I came here last, I jumped from that platform without taking in all this beauty, and what a loss for me. It’s all so fascinating.”
I wondered if she knew how funny she is when flustered. Not that I would have felt comfortable enough to laugh at her, regardless. Here was the thing: I am a man, but in the presence of Skylord, I was reduced to feeling like a beached squid, withered, dry, and shriveling with nerves and a deep sense of inadequacy. I nodded fervently, my insides churning with anxiety.
Gathering my composure as best as I can, I offer a formal greeting, “Ghost Lord Li Peng greets Skylord.”
“Ghost Lord Li Peng, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Qian… Bai Qian alone.”
“Of course. Qian Qian, you know where to find me.” I replied, ignoring her unmistakable disappointment. Though I cherish my time with her, the urgency to escape this situation propelled me to leave faster than I ever thought possible.
Ye Hua~
Qian Qian watched Li Peng leave, her pensive expression a dagger to my already beleaguered heart. Her eyes followed his back until he was out of sight, an unspoken wish that she was with him and not alone with me.
I was a fool, but I couldn’t deny the jealousy inside me, a creature with gnashing teeth that gnawed at my insides. She was indifferent, and I felt like I was slowly being burned alive by her silent preference.
The ash of my heart filled my chest, and it felt unsettling, like heartburn. It was still painful to accept she would rather be with anyone else but me, who is standing before her with so much still unsaid and unresolved.
Gathering my scattered thoughts like dandelion seeds caught in a swirl of wind, forcing them into words even as they felt like shards of porcelain lodged in my throat. “I’m sorry about tonight and Bai Lianhua’s unacceptable behavior.” My voice was soft, brittle, and ever remorseful.
Her expression barely flickered. Qian Qian’s lashes lifted, as though my apology were a sudden drop of rain on a stone roof—unexpected but quickly forgotten.
She shrugged, the silken folds of her long sleeve whispering against her wrist. “Oh, that. There’s no need to apologize. It was a delightful evening. Ye Hua, your effort to please her was successful. I hope she’s appreciative.” Her detached tone was airy, as if I had offered nothing more than a polite greeting in passing. “Well, since that’s settled, I believe Li Peng is waiting for me and there’s nothing else to discuss.”
Her dismissal and those words twisted the blade already buried in my heart. Memories cascaded through me—her gaze that once drips honey, her laughter falling from her peach blossom lips, the hush of midnight when she had called my name in the darkness. We had struggled but overcome so many times, clinging to each other as though love alone were destiny’s decree. And now her indifference had become her weapon of choice against me, most effectively.
I try to stop her from leaving, desperate and undone. My voice cracked under its weight, trembling like a cracked porcelain vase. “Is it so unbearable that our names are etched on the Three Lives Stone?” I barely recognized my desperation. I needed her answer—not for pride, but to stanch my heart’s bleeding.
Finally, she spoke softly, breaking the silence: “Yes, it bothers me.” The words hang heavy, unspoken feelings thick in the air. Another long pause follows. Then, tinged with a poignancy, she continued, “I’ve been thinking… were we blind to the ill-rational compulsion that drove us? Were we only trying to reconcile, ignoring the obvious because this rock and everyone else declared we were destined to be together?”
She reached up, her fingers delicately pulling the strands of hair that clung stubbornly to her quivering lips. With a gentle brush, she swept them into the cascade of hair framing her face, attempting to tuck them behind her ear, but they rebelliously tumbled back into her eyes.
“No, it wasn’t only that,” she mused softly. “Perhaps our fate was solely to unite and create the most perfect beings, our children. If so, that’s a beautiful spin on things and a happy ending to our follies. Thank you, Ye Hua, for fathering the children.”
“Go back to your beloved wife. It’s insensitive to leave her alone on her birthday.” Her dismissal was bitter on my tongue. Her words cut through me like a knife, the way she transformed our once-passionate love affair into nothing more than a practical arrangement. Each syllable twisted deeper, and my very being scoffed at how effortlessly she uttered the most heartbreaking words so far from the truth. Then she turned away, leaving me with the echo of her footsteps.
Bai Qian
My words were meant to slice through the very fabric of what was once a profound love between us, because for us, this is the only way it can be.
There must be a clean and definitive line between us. This is better than the lingering ambiguity that has always plagued our relationship. Like a relentless fog, our gray areas of misunderstanding—emotions tangled, intentions misconstrued, actions sparking unintended consequences—have been at the root of our problems all along.
All is fair in love and war, but our battles have been exhausting.
My defiant heart refuses to be subdued, confused, wishing for the impossible, and the only weapon that seems to bring him and me to our knees is indifference. One day, Ye Hua will understand.
My cruelty was my kindness.
He can’t return to me, and I can’t go back to him when Bai Lianhua passes. People will think of me as a parasite who was waiting in the darkness for her death, but to say that I don’t still love him is a lie. Love that powerful like gravity itself that can’t just be willed away, for once upon a time. It was exquisite, but I feared the person I was with him, the part of myself that seemed to burn in pure abandonment, consumed in the fire that constantly rages between us. I detested what I became, and more so, the person I brought out in him. His jealousy—all-consuming and reckless—devoured his rationale. And this man, standing with his back to me now, looking up at the entry of the Hall of Beauty Youth, SuSu’s old residence that my daughter Ying’er has made hers, is someone I am still relearning—a stranger in some ways, yet achingly familiar.
I was doubtful when everyone told me how much Mo Yuan had changed after his mortal trial. I took such words with a grain of salt, believing that a man as predictable as the seasons and of such tradition and resolve could not embrace change easily. He would remain steadfast and unyielding, just as the mountains that were his home, just as he’s always been. But after a few unexpected encounters, I realized he’s not the same as he once was.
If I had a heart to spare, it might learn to beat faster for him. Possibilities, lost chances, I hadn’t considered were within my reach again, now presented to me, drawing my curiosity and uncertainty with them.
He was different, and this change stirred within me something I couldn’t yet describe.
The wind carried his scent before I saw his face, and its crisp familiarity sent flutters to my stomach. It’s tinged with something new—spice, perhaps?—A reminder that he was not the man I once knew. I stared at his square shoulders, the straightness of his posture, and his hands grasping behind his lower back, and I realized I was holding my breath, waiting, watching.
It was a swift yet fluid motion. His head pivoted with graceful precision before his body followed suit. I noticed the sharp contours of his profile, a harmonious blend of masculinity and refined delicacy. The corner of his lips curls upward, a subtle sign that he’s aware of my presence. His eyes meet mine first as his body aligns with his head, capturing my gaze with a magnetic pull. His lips curved, a smile expanded, exuding a gentle warmth.
“Shifu… Mo Yuan… you’re here.” My words fluttered like delicate butterfly wings, quivering with reverence and pleasure. I struggled to find the right way to bow—he had always been my Master, yet now he stood before me as a man, a presence both familiar and foreign.
My heart raced, a pounding rhythm in my chest, as he wordlessly followed me inside. A wave of foolishness and embarrassment washed over me, heated like the flush on my cheeks.
Why did my face ignite with color whenever I’m near him?
He wasn’t the only one who had changed; my perception of him had also changed. Once a comforting constant, his presence stirred a confusing blend of emotions within me.
He stated. “A-li seized your chamber on Kunlun with a fierce possessiveness. Changchang snatched up your robes and untouched books like a vulture. Yingpei fled to Qingqui as though driven by a storm, and Ying’er clarified that this place was hers. All the children clung desperately to the remnants of your presence while you were away.”
The many scrolls and neatly piled books in a pristine room awaiting their mistress’s return made me chuckle at how profoundly different my daughter was from me. “Yes, all these books were not here before, nor were they mine. I don’t know where she gets her intellectual drive from.” I reply, my upbeat voice steady even as a storm of emotions brewed inside me.
My mind and mouth conspired against me, letting words slip out that I hadn’t intended to voice. My feet, rooted firmly to the spot, were my only saviors, preventing me from turning to face him and my unease.
“Why did you kiss me that night?” The question escaped my lips, hanging in the air between us. I gasped, shocked by my boldness, my heart pounding in disbelief at the audacity that bordered on stupidity.
His voice remained unwavering, as steady as the horizon and smooth as velvet. “You started it, ” he replied. “It would have been poor manners if I hadn’t returned the gesture.”
“What?” A short, rough, snort-like laugh escaped me as I turned around. “You’ve changed. I’m surprised you’re not married with children by now.”
His steps were deliberate and measured, and he closed the distance between us—almost as if each one were timed to a heartbeat, and they were. Mine. Those dark eyes I’ve only recognized as filled with intelligence and a father’s love seemed to smolder.
Or maybe it was just me.
Maybe it was just what I wanted to see.
He reached out, his fingers wrapping around my hands with an assurance that left me breathless. I didn’t remember him being so bold before. His hands were warm, but perhaps mine were cold—cold as ice from nerves.
Damn Li Peng’s wine! Why did you drink that much?
I drank to numb my senses, yet why was I not numb?
“There’s only one person I’ve ever considered marrying or having children with,” he says with a voice that gives away little but seems to hold everything. When he sees me drop my gaze down to the floor, uncertain and trembling, his tone changes and becomes teasing. “Aren’t you going to thank me for saving your performance?”
I use his playfulness as a chance to steal my hands back, hiding them behind my back, though a part of me, one I barely recognize, wants to leave them there. I rounded my arms and bent at the knees. “Thank you for saving me.”
He smiled a smile I couldn’t fully grasp, but I saw a mixture of mischief and sincerity. “Only with words?” he said, making my heart jump, and I gasped, choking on my spit. I stared at him wide-eyed, as if seeing him for the first time, wondering what had happened to this taciturn, conservative man while I was gone. Could this be real?
Could this truly be the Mo Yuan I know?
I started laughing, a nervous, bewildered sound that escaped before I could control it. Between his words and the baffling change in him, I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. I felt dizzy, like I was spinning with the world, spinning with the stars behind my eyes. “Between the performance and now being here, though innocently together, the gossip will spread like wildfire tomorrow. I might have to hide in Qingqiu for a few hundred years and wait out the gossip storm.”
Before my words could settle, my mind raced again. This was Mo Yuan standing here, and yet not. The change in him felt immense, larger than I ever thought possible, and almost frighteningly intriguing in its implications. I looked back at all those times. He was unmovable and composed, and I marveled at how he stood here now, transformed.
My mind couldn’t fully grasp it, and a part of me-a small, fluttering part that I tried to keep from surfacing—didn’t know if I wanted to fight this or embrace it. I felt exposed, vulnerable to what this might mean, suddenly feeling as if I were fifty thousand years old again.
A thought nudged me and spilled from my lips, but clumsily, “Are you flirting with me?”
His smile moved to his eyes at my question, and he closed the space between us even more. “Maybe we should give them something to gossip about, truly,” he said, and the air around us came alive, magic pulsating and encompassing us in a bubble of privacy.