by Cindy Pon
Zhen Ni and Lan clutched one another, their eyes standing out in their white faces. Their hair was disheveled, floating in wild wisps around their heads. Both girls mouths and cheeks were smudged with faint rouge. Hadn’t she removed the cosmetic from her mistress’s lips before Zhen Ni retired to bed the previous evening?
Skybright staggered back another step, really taking in the scene. The flush in both girls’ cheeks. The faint musk of pleasure that hung in the air. The fact that Zhen Ni and Lan were completely unclothed. Skybright bit her knuckle hard to keep from wailing out before running into the reception hall.
“Sky!” Zhen Ni cried. “Wait!”
She stopped, so used to obeying her mistress’s commands. Skybright paced the dark hall, her fist still shoved in her mouth, feeling as if she couldn’t get one full breath into her lungs, her hands numbed by shock and betrayal.
Zhen Ni rushed out a few moments later, tying a lavender robe around herself. “Sky, I wanted to tell you.” Her mistress tried to grasp Skybright’s hand, but she twisted out of her reach.
“Tell me what?” The words came in a rasp. She had to hear it from Zhen Ni’s own mouth.
“It only happened tonight. We didn’t plan… ”
How could she have been such a fool when it had all been clearly laid out in front of her? She’d been so distracted by her own problems these past few weeks, she’d neglected to notice that her mistress had—she had—
“Do you love her?” Skybright’s voice was so soft that Zhen Ni had to lean forward to hear her.
Her mistress shook her head, her loose braids unwinding further so that her thick hair tumbled across her shoulders. “Oh, Sky. What does it matter?”
“So it means nothing to you?”
Tears sprang into Zhen Ni’s eyes, those expressive soulful eyes that shone now even in the dim reception hall. “It means everything to me.” She brushed her fingers across her eyelids, her hand then straying to her mouth, lingering there. “Lan means everything to me.”
“But she’s a girl.”
Zhen Ni’s laugh was short and strangled.
“What would your mother say?” asked Skybright.
Zhen Ni winced as if Skybright had slapped her. “I’d tell her I was practicing for the sake of my future husband.”
Skybright turned from her mistress. How could she explain? She’d known her entire life that her mistress would be betrothed to a good boy from a well-respected family. That she would follow as her handmaid. She had prepared for this eventuality, that her mistress would give herself to her husband, that she would fall in love. Still, this future husband would be excluded from their lives within the inner quarters—from the world of women.
But this. She had never imagined this. That Zhen Ni’s affections would be for another girl. Another girl just like Skybright, only higher in station. That a girl should steal her mistress’s heart and be both friend and lover to her. What did Zhen Ni need her for now then? Not for companionship. Not even to serve her. Rose could easily replace her as handmaid. “You’ve no need for me any longer.” Her voice quavered, even as Skybright fought against it.
She felt Zhen Ni’s hand on her shoulder, and she gently turned Skybright so they were facing each other again. “Of course I do.”
Skybright bit her lower lip and stepped away from Zhen Ni so that her mistress was left with her hand still raised, clasping nothing. “No matter what you say, I will always only be your handmaid, and you, my mistress.” Her entire life had revolved around serving Zhen Ni, and it meant nothing. Skybright’s only other alternative to this life—the only life she had ever known—was abnormal and monstrous. “You use me to conspire. To keep your secrets.”
Zhen Ni’s fingers clenched into a fist. “We’re sisters, you and I.”
“Everything I’ve ever done is because you commanded it of me,” Skybright whispered.
Her mistress’s hand dropped, heavily and without grace. “You love me because I command you to?”
No.
She loved Zhen Ni because she was full of irrepressible life and adventure, of wild notions and mischief. Because she was brave yet irreverent, utterly selfish but totally giving. She loved her mistress because it was she who tended to her scraped elbows and knees (even if they were mishaps due to Zhen Ni’s ambitious exploits). She was the one to rush to Nanny Bai when Skybright, at seven years, had swallowed her front tooth by accident, dribbling blood all over her chin and screaming at the top of her lungs, the one to insist that she be dressed in the prettiest tunics and shoes possible, so they appeared more like sisters rather than mistress and servant. She loved her mistress for all of this and more.
But she didn’t tell her any of these things. She wanted to hurt Zhen Ni as much as she had hurt her. Instead, Skybright said, “Come. The rooster has crowed. I should dress you for the day.”
Head bowed, Zhen Ni shuffled back into the bedchamber.
Feeling wrung out, Skybright followed, and opened the lattice windows, as she did every morning. The faint light of dawn washed the bedchamber in muted dream-like colors. The large platform bed stood empty, strewn with brocaded cushions and a crumpled silk sheet.
Lan had sneaked away without either of them noticing.
The mood was subdued that day. Zhen Ni and Lan spoke very little and laughed not at all. They sat far from each other, making sure no parts of their bodies ever touched, their faces pinched in misery. Lan actually seemed physically ill, unable to look at anyone, her complexion sallow. She folded into herself, as if her stomach ached, and she appeared even younger than her sixteen years.
Zhen Ni spent the entire day casting anxious glances in Skybright’s direction, worrying her lower lip until the skin broke and bled. Normally, Skybright would have stopped her before she drew blood, would have given her reassurances, massaged her shoulders, but today, she kept her distance and remained silent.
Her mistress should know her well enough to realize she would never give her and Lan’s secret away. Her loyalties, no matter what happened, were to Zhen Ni. But then, she thought she had known everything about her mistress as well, until this morning. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t now conceal secrets of her own.
Was this what growing up, becoming a woman, meant? To show only certain, acceptable sides of yourself to others, even to those you love?
Skybright dozed throughout the day, emotionally and physically exhausted. Zhen Ni didn’t request any tasks of her, so she followed her and Lan from the fish pond room into the garden pavilion, from there to the main hall, and then to the stone benches beneath the crabapple trees by the waterfall. They drifted from one location to the next like silent ghosts, with Pearl and Rose chattering behind them.
She dreamed strange, intense dreams during her short naps. Being chased by giant looming shadows as she slithered, the terror heavy against her chest. Lying by the creek kissing Kai Sen until it felt as if her soul was pulled taut with desire. Stone’s perfect and handsome face hovering above hers, like she had just woken and he was peering down at her.
You are one of us, daughter of Opal. The monks would kill you without hesitation.
Skybright jolted awake, the cushion she had leaned against falling from the bench. Zhen Ni was watching her intently, her embroidery sitting neglected in her lap. Her shoulders slumped, but she straightened when Skybright woke. Her mistress attempted a timid smile, but Skybright dropped her chin and didn’t return it. How could Zhen Ni have fallen in love with another girl? Did her mistress have the same feelings for Lan as she did for Kai Sen? Did her skin tingle from Lan’s touch? Did blood roar in Zhen Ni’s ears, too, when they kissed? The notion seemed so strange to Skybright. But she knew her mistress well, and she knew from observing Zhen Ni that her feelings for Lan were true.
She was still angry with Zhen Ni. But Skybright missed her mistress like she missed a part of herself—a limb or organ—missed the ease and familiarity of their relationship. Although what was th
e point of a true reconciliation now, of growing close again? Skybright wasn’t the girl Zhen Ni had grown up with, the one she said she loved as a sister, the one she thought she knew.
What would happen if she told Zhen Ni the truth, if Skybright revealed her serpent form?
It wouldn’t just be the monks, she was certain, who would turn on her.
They went through the usual rituals of preparing for bed. It wasn’t a bath day, and Zhen Ni didn’t ask for it specially. So Skybright undressed her, then washed her mistress’s hands and feet in rose water before wiping her torso and back with a damp cloth. What had been routine for years was awkward this evening, in their strained silence, as Skybright sponged her mistress’s skin, knowing Lan had seen and touched Zhen Ni in a very different way. She then fetched another bowl of scented water so her mistress could wash her face.
After, they sat in front of the vanity and she unwound Zhen Ni’s hair, brushing it over and over until it gleamed in the lantern light. “I won’t tell anyone,” Skybright murmured.
Their eyes met in the bronzed mirror. “I know,” Zhen Ni said. She took the brush from Skybright’s hand and set it on the vanity. “You have a right to be angry. We tell each other everything. It’s just … you haven’t been yourself lately.”
Skybright’s heart constricted with longing to tell her mistress the truth, knowing that she never could. Her secret was as effective as any high wall, separating them, driving them apart. Finally, she said, “You can’t wed a girl, mistress.”
Zhen Ni pulled a face, then pressed her lips together. “You’re right. I can’t. But I need not wed at all.”
Skybright shook her head, feeling worn. Weary.
Zhen Ni turned and caught her wrist. “We can go into town tomorrow to buy ornaments for our hair? Or take a picnic to the creek?”
“We’re in the midst of the Ghost Festival. The abbot has warned us of evil omens and dangers this year. I think it’s safer to stay within the manor—enjoy your time with Lan.” Skybright drew the silk sheet back and arranged the cushions on the bed just as Zhen Ni liked them. “I won’t interrupt you again, mistress.”
Zhen Ni glanced down, but not before Skybright caught the deep flush that spread across both her cheeks. She bade her a peaceful evening and left Zhen Ni standing by the platform bed alone, reminding Skybright of a bride without a groom.
“Skybright.” The whisper was so hushed she thought she imagined it.
She had snuffed the lantern a while ago, but, although she was exhausted, found that she had too much on her mind to fall asleep. Someone whispered her name again, and it was nothing like the murmuring chaos of the ghosts. It sounded like Kai Sen. She quickly pulled her cloth shoes on and slipped into the darkened courtyard. The sweet fragrance of honeysuckle filled the air, and she breathed deep, admiring the scent.
“Skybright?” His hushed inquiry came from the back alley.
She walked down the narrow corridor and peeked around the corner. Kai Sen stood, like a dark phantom, in front of her makeshift ancestor altar. She had replenished it before retiring for the evening, and the sandalwood incense still lingered in the air.
“What’re you doing here?” she whispered.
He was beside her in a few quick strides, sweeping her into his arms in a tight embrace. Her cheek pressed against his chest and she drew in the familiar, comforting scent of him. They stood like that for a few moments before she disentangled herself.
“I didn’t know where you slept. I came hoping that perhaps you’d hear me calling you.” He cupped her cheek in one hand and she felt her entire body warm to his touch. “I thought it unlikely but I had to try … ”
“My bedchamber is just on the other side of this wall.” She tilted her head so she could see his face, but his features were obscured in shadows. “What’s wrong?”
“The hungry ghosts were right. There’s a breach in the underworld; the undead and demons have arisen too. I’ve seen them.” He had been cradling her elbows and his grip tightened as he spoke. “I’ve killed them.”
Skybright remembered seeing Kai Sen battling in the distance while she hid within the trees. “Goddess. Are you all right?”
His head dipped lower, so she could feel his breath when he spoke. “It’s gruesome. I had never killed anything. I’d thought the abbot’s notion of actual demons existing was … absurd. Those texts are hundreds of years old, some over a thousand years. What relevance could they possibly have?” Kai Sen gave a rueful chuckle. “He always did say I was too flippant in my attitude. I learned a hard lesson last night.”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know. The abbot has received word from the other monasteries—the demon sightings extend across the entire kingdom. Monks are fighting in every province to keep our people safe. Traditionally, the gates of the underworld close again two weeks after the Ghost Festival begins. But who knows what will happen with this breach between our realms.”
She pressed a palm against his chest. “Do take care.”
She caught the flash of his teeth when he smiled. “That’s why I came. To warn you. It’s most dangerous at night, but you shouldn’t be wandering outside the manor any longer, even in the day. Especially within the forest.”
Skybright was glad for the dark, so he couldn’t see her expression as a host of different emotions flitted through her. Kai Sen was killing demons—slaying monsters exactly like herself. Ignoring the knot in her stomach, she twisted the front of his black tunic in her fists and pulled him down for a kiss. He obliged, grazing her mouth softly at first, so her lips tingled. His hand slipped behind to caress her nape as the other brushed across her lower back, and he drew her even closer to him. Their kiss was slow and deep. And when she felt her insides quiver, followed by that dangerous heat, she imagined coolness drenching her legs, keeping them separate.
Human.
He could never know. No one she cared for could ever know. But she would have this one kiss, because she desired it.
It was Kai Sen who broke away first, releasing her and flinging his arms to the sides as if checking his balance. “Goddess,” he said in a low voice. And for the next few moments, there were no other sounds except for their ragged breathing. “I admit I was going to ask for a kiss before I left—” He threw a hand up. “All right. Beg for one if I had to.”
She laughed, then winced as it had been too loud. “Kai Sen, I like you. But—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t. I’m going demon hunting tonight. We’ve started a war against the underworld. The proper things to say here are: Be careful, Kai Sen, or I’ll miss you, Kai Sen.” He stepped back and grinned at her. “I’ll wait for you, Kai Sen,” he said and climbed the wall in two breaths, crouching low at the top. “I hope we see each other again soon, Skybright. Keep safe.”
She stood alone in the dark, listening for his retreating footsteps, and heard none. He moved as silently as the ghosts.
“Be careful, Kai Sen,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you.”
But only after she felt certain that he had gone.
The Ghost Festival kept the entire manor occupied in the following days. Not only was a magnificent feast laid out for all the Yuan ancestors, hell money was burned for the dead to use in the underworld. Incense was kept lit day and night, and the fragrance of sandalwood drifted on the wind. Because of the strict warnings from the monastery and the strange sightings that had been reported, Lady Yuan hired monks to chant prayers for the dead throughout the day. Performers were also hired for shows of dancing and opera to entertain the wandering ghosts. The manor was large enough that a small stage was built in the main courtyard, and neighbors were invited to attend.
The girls kept within the manor all day and planned no secret adventures. Even servants, when they had tasks that took them outside the manor, went in pairs or more. No one from the Yuan manor besides Skybright had seen anything unusual since the Ghost Festival began, but
they all took the abbot’s warning seriously. For that, Skybright was relieved. She didn’t encounter any more hungry ghosts, although at night, she’d sometimes catch the murmur of hundreds of voices upon the wind or glimpse shimmering light in her peripheral vision. But if the hungry ghosts feasted, they did so without bothering her.
Her relationship with Zhen Ni slowly returned to normal, even if Skybright remained more reserved than before. If her mistress noticed, she didn’t comment on it. She watched as Zhen Ni and Lan fell back into their close friendship, laughing together, their cheeks blooming again with color. Zhen Ni tried to include Skybright in all her conversations and pastimes with Lan, but Skybright felt awkward around the quiet girl, less refined. She was keenly aware that she was unable to read the simple women’s language that had been taught to both girls, couldn’t grasp the literary and poetic allusions they referred to in conversation. But least penetrable of all was the closeness that bound the two girls, affection, desire, and … something more that Skybright could neither pinpoint nor describe. It was as if Zhen Ni and Lan existed in their own world, communicated in their own language. She saw it in their sidelong glances, the way their fingers would linger on each other when they passed the embroidery, how they each unconsciously leaned toward the other, like two orchid stalks on the verge of twining.
Skybright’s thoughts would then turn to Kai Sen and wonder how he was. She’d say a prayer for him every time she imagined him fighting against those towering demons. Choosing to heed his warning, she remained within the manor. Skybright wanted to be a better handmaid to Zhen Ni. She still had time alone with her mistress in the mornings and before bedtime, as she prepared Zhen Ni, when they could gossip and laugh as they did before Lan had come. But after eight days had passed and still no word from Kai Sen, she began to worry. She’d started the habit of lighting the final incense stick for the hungry ghosts in the narrow alley, then pacing the length of it until she became too weary, hoping that he would come to see her.
