by Cindy Pon
Ai Ling took the vial. It was barely the length of her smallest finger and near the same width in diameter. The glass was elaborately carved with characters she did not recognize.
“If Zhong Ye wishes to have me, if you wish me to kill him, why have there been so many obstacles on my journey to the Palace?”
The Goddess smiled.
“You are perceptive. Zhong Ye does not wish harm upon you; he believes he loves you. It is the work of his current bride, who realizes her days ruling by his side are numbered if you do appear. After many centuries, she knows you have reincarnated, that you are on your way. She wants you dead.”
Ai Ling felt the hairs on her neck rise. Finally things were falling into place, even if they were too incredible to believe. Who had she been in her last life? And why had she been chosen for such a horrific task? Ai Ling wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to be back home; back in a time when her world was ordinary.
“She is powerful and cunning, a dangerous foe,” the Goddess continued. “But it is Zhong Ye you need to be most leery of. He has managed to stay alive by devouring others’ spirits, keeping them bound to him, so they are unable to truly die and reincarnate. Hundreds of spirits have been sundered from the Life Cycle.”
The Goddess returned to her seat and sat down, her delicate eyebrows drawn together. “As the Goddess of Records, it is my duty to enter names in The Book of Life in crimson and in The Book of Death in black. Too many births have been recorded without souls to fill their human form—the babes are born without spirit.” The Goddess raised her elegant heads, and her anger swept across Ai Ling like a lash of cold rain.
“Zhong Ye is playing god, when he is no god,” the Goddess said.
Hundreds of spirits held captive, unable to become reborn and fulfill their destiny. Ai Ling thought about the older brother she never had, the one who was born still. Had Zhong Ye killed him? Stolen his spirit so he could not live? She gripped the jade armrests with tight hands. Was he the cause of her parents’ grief—and so many others’?
Li Rong cleared his throat. “Couldn’t you kill Zhong Ye yourself, Lady? Fling a lightning bolt at him? Turn him into a water buffalo?”
The Immortal shifted, her three faces turned to him. Li Rong tucked his chin, like a tortoise shrinking within himself—only he had no shell to hide in. Ai Ling would have smiled, but he asked a very good question.
“I cannot. I am bound by heavenly laws and duties. The Immortals do not often meddle in human lives.” The Goddess turned now and regarded her. “I aid you for very selfish reasons, Ai Ling. You face a great nemesis in Zhong Ye. There is no telling what will happen if he continues to live through the consumption of others’ spirits.”
The Goddess rose. She raised one ivory arm, her stance reminding Ai Ling of the statues of Immortals hewn from white jade. “Roam the garden. Explore. You will find food and a place to rest.” With that dismissal, her image shimmered and then faded completely.
After a long silence, Li Rong spoke first. “I’ve been a fool in my refusal to believe in the gods.” He jumped from his chair and banged his head on the floor three times.
“You disbelieved? What did you think happened when we die?” Ai Ling asked, incredulous.
“I assumed there was nothing after death,” Li Rong said, and then struck his brow against the luminous jade floor three more times.
“You’ve got your head too full flirting with pretty ladies to think about the mystic and otherworldly, little brother,” Chen Yong said.
Li Rong stood, but not before bowing once to the goddess’ empty chair. “There may be truth in that. Do you mean to say you believed in all the worship, the offerings, the incense burning?”
“I accepted it as our obligation, and I never questioned its truth. And I’ll never have to question it, after this day.”
“You were always the most traditional, Chen Yong, for being only half Xian.”
Chen Yong rose from his jasper chair, but not before Ai Ling saw him wince. He turned from them, the brief hurt she’d glimpsed already masked. “We should look around the gardens,” he said. “Not many mortals can say they had such an opportunity.”
Ai Ling and Li Rong rose. The elaborately carved chairs shimmered and disappeared, just as the Goddess had. They walked down the gleaming jade steps of the pagoda and took the path that meandered beyond it, adjacent to a winding river rushing over smooth red pebbles.
“This must be the Scarlet River, which is supposed to run through the Golden Palace,” Ai Ling said.
The path opened into a secluded garden. Chrysanthemums bloomed in orange and red, their faces turned to the sun; rare orchids bowed gracefully in their carved ivory pots. Ai Ling breathed in the scent of jasmine and sunshine.
“Look over there.” Li Rong pointed to two birds strolling majestically by the pavilion.
“Phoenixes,” Ai Ling whispered, afraid of startling them.
The birds reached taller than her waist, with long legs covered in golden scales. Their heads were white, with a vermilion comb on top. One phoenix stopped briefly to ruffle the crimson and gold feathers of its back with a pointed beak. They walked with dainty steps, light glancing off their hooked talons, the giant plumes of their red tails trailing behind.
“This is their favorite spot,” said a lyrical voice.
A woman dressed in a pale green gown stood under a pavilion. She swept her arm to reveal the table behind her, laden with dishes. The smell of scallion and ginger and even more exotic scents assailed Ai Ling.
“A meal awaits. Eat at your leisure.” The woman bowed, her black hair free flowing except for two braids coiled on top in loops. She vanished from view.
“I’ll never become used to that,” Li Rong said after she was gone. And, as an afterthought, “I wonder if a mortal can love the servant of a goddess?”
“Why don’t you find out?” Ai Ling teased.
“You didn’t have much luck with a serpent demon,” Chen Yong said.
Ai Ling and Chen Yong laughed together. Li Rong threw a playful jab at his brother, which Chen Yong pushed to the side with a sweeping arc of his forearm.
“We’re not all monks like you, old brother,” Li Rong said. Chen Yong raised a brow but made no reply.
They settled down on the stools and watched the two phoenixes stroll to the river and dip their golden beaks into the rushing water.
“Do you think it’s safe to eat the food of the Immortals?” Li Rong asked.
“I feel we’re safe here,” Ai Ling said, helping herself to rice, vegetables, fish, braised meatballs, and a steamed bun. “I’m afraid to return to our world.”
Both brothers looked serious now, as they joined her in the meal. The food on their plates never dwindled, nor did their teacups empty. Each serving was more addictive than the last.
“Thank you, Immortals!” Li Rong said, unsuccessfully hiding a burp behind his hand.
Ai Ling laughed as Chen Yong shook his head.
“Have you considered all that the Goddess said?” Chen Yong asked.
“If I dwell too long, saving Father becomes an impossible task.” She closed her eyes, hoping for silence.
“What Zhong Ye does affects all of us in a way. Who knows how he has skewed the Life Cycle by keeping these spirits trapped? I wanted to go to the Palace to find my mother, but I go now to help you slay this man as well,” Chen Yong said, his voice quiet and steady.
“Me, too,” Li Rong, head down, mumbled from behind his sleeve.
Ai Ling opened her eyes and found Chen Yong studying her with an expression she could not identify. She fought the urge to touch him with her spirit, just to glean his thoughts, but she had promised herself she’d never intrude on him like that again. She smiled instead, unable to express her gratitude.
“You must have been very strong in your past life to be chosen for this task,” Chen Yong said.
She straightened, no longer drowsy. Her hand unconsciously sought her dagger’s jeweled hilt
. What was the use of being strong in a past life? Would she be strong enough in this one?
They spent the rest of the afternoon following the curve of the gentle river, exploring the lush garden. Ai Ling sketched the flowers; Li Rong stalked the phoenixes, until he came too close and got pecked in the thigh.
At dusk, they found three plush beds under the same pavilion where they had dined. A platter of fruit and some more lavender-colored tea were set on a low table.
Before the light faded entirely, Ai Ling decided to find a secluded spot and bathe in the river. She strolled away from the pavilion, feeling safe and at ease in the garden. She’d been so tense, so afraid these past few days. Thank the Goddess Chen Yong and Li Rong were with her.
Finding an area with soft grass along the riverbank, Ai Ling stripped bare. She loosened her braid, and threw a glance over her shoulder. Nothing stirred.
The water was warm. The rush of the current exhilarated her, and the elliptical pebbles pressed into her flesh, massaging knotted muscles. Her tension unfurled—Ai Ling imagined it rising to her skin’s surface, being swept away by the flow of water. She slid a bit lower, propped herself up on her elbows, her entire body beneath the warm, gurgling river.
She threw her head back and wet her unbound hair. Her breath caught in her throat. The stars emerging from the deep indigo of early evening were endless. At first the sky was flat, but the longer she looked, the more bright specks leaped into place, until the darkness took on depth. Brilliant points of silver, white, bright orange, and cold blue blinked down from above.
She traced the Azure Dragon by the glimmering dots in the sky and had begun to search for the Agate Tortoise when she heard the brush move.
Ai Ling quickly sat up and drew her knees to her bare chest, bumps prickling her arms. “Who is it?” she asked in a quiet voice, quelling the unexpected panic that filled her.
A silver cat glided from the thickets, seating itself daintily near the river’s edge. It was unlike any feline she had seen, with short, thick fur the exact color of a shiny coin.
“Hello there.” She cocked her head at the cat, which raised a paw and began licking it. The action was so familiar it immediately brought Taro to mind. She ached for home.
“The water is very relaxing. Have you tried it?”
The cat paused in its cleaning and regarded her with silver eyes. It mewed as if in reply, the sound throaty and lyrical, taking her by surprise.
“No. Taro doesn’t like baths either.”
There was a rustle of steps on the path. She wrapped her arms around her breasts.
“Ai Ling?”
Chen Yong.
“Yes, I’m bathing.”
“I thought I heard you speaking.” His voice carried in the still night, even though Ai Ling could not see him.
“I was talking to myself.” She decided that was easier than trying to explain why she was having a conversation with a silver-haired cat.
There was a pause before Chen Yong replied, “All right.”
Embarrassed, she quickly braided her hair. It was time to dress and retire. Ai Ling reached for the thick towel she had brought, dried herself, and pulled on a clean tunic and trousers.
She bade the cat good night and headed down the path toward the pavilion. Their beds were arranged in a triangle formation. One glass lantern shaped like a lotus flower glowed in the middle of this makeshift nest until Li Rong extinguished its three flames.
The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves and the chirping of crickets. Even the Immortals have crickets in their garden, she thought, before she fell into a contented sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ai Ling sat up and rubbed her face, embarrassed to be the last one to rise.
“A peaceful morning.” Chen Yong smiled. The dust of travel had been scrubbed from his face, his thick hair bound in a topknot wet and dark. Had he bathed in the river? He wore a new tunic, slate gray embroidered with hints of cerulean along the collar and sleeves.
“There’s hot goat’s milk for your morning meal, along with sticky rice balls with sweetened taro, rice porridge with pickled vegetables and salted pork, and the most amazing fruit you’ve ever tasted.” Li Rong waved his arm in a flourish toward a lacquered tray laden with food at the end of her bed.
“We couldn’t wait for you,” Chen Yong said, although he didn’t sound apologetic. She didn’t mind. She wouldn’t have waited either.
She scooted to the end of the bed and picked up a sticky rice ball and bit into it. Sweet things first. The chewy taro paste within had just the right hint of sugar. “Mmm,” she managed with her mouth full.
“I’d be twice my size if I lived here,” Li Rong said.
Ai Ling had another sticky rice ball already stuffed in her mouth. She washed it down with a sip of tea, and then realized both brothers were watching her. She gripped the teacup tight in her hands, not knowing how to express her jumbled thoughts and feelings. “I’m truly grateful you journey with me.”
“This Zhong Ye who has captured your father must be defeated. Besides…” Chen Yong waited for her to raise her face before he continued. “I feel as if our fates are somehow intertwined. I’ve felt it from the moment I saw you lying on the edge of that lake…and when we met again at the noodle house.”
She looked away. She felt connected to Chen Yong unlike anyone else she had ever known. Was it because he had saved her life? Or because she had slipped into his spirit? She only nodded, for fear she would squeak if she spoke.
“The Immortals are probably pulling the strings,” Chen Yong said.
“We have control over many things, Chen Yong, but not an individual’s fate. That falls within the patterns of life itself. How one’s path crosses or misses another’s is beyond our control,” the Goddess of Records said.
They turned to find the Immortal at the bottom of the pavilion steps. They leaped to their feet, the young men bowing low.
“But I thought you said I was chosen, Lady, to defeat Zhong Ye,” Ai Ling said. She spoke without thought, and felt foolish for speaking as she would to her companions. She felt even more awkward with her mussed hair.
The Goddess smiled with all three faces. She waved one pale hand, indicating that they should sit. “It wasn’t so much that you were chosen for the task, Ai Ling. But rather, you volunteered for it—more than two centuries past—while you dwelled in the underworld, waiting to enter your next life. This life.”
Ai Ling closed her mouth after she realized it had dropped open. She turned to Chen Yong and he blinked, looking as surprised as she felt. Apparently, rashness transcended lifetimes.
“Two centuries?” she finally managed.
“It is an unusually long time in the underworld. I think your former incarnation was biding her time, gathering her strength,” the Goddess said.
The phoenixes emerged from behind a flowering hedge and ambled toward the pavilion. The Goddess sat down gracefully on a jade step. “The sea dragon will take you to the Mountain of Eternal Prayer. It hovers in the clouds, between your realm and ours. This is where the Lady in White resides.”
She stretched long fingers toward the two birds. Ai Ling saw that her fingernails were perfectly manicured, and that she wore pointed gold finger covers over the last fingers of her right hands. The Immortal leaned forward, the lavender silk of her gown cascading around her feet like liquid, and fed the birds purple berries, which had magically appeared in two palms. The stiff collars of the gown showed off her graceful necks, the material embroidered with a thousand blooming chrysanthemums. “The sea dragon awaits outside the gates, when you are ready. May good fortune keep you.” She shimmered out of view.
“We should go. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I would prefer not to arrive at night,” Ai Ling said finally.
Chen Yong and Li Rong nodded in solemn agreement.
They gathered their belongings and wound their way past the pagoda where they had first met the Goddess of Records. No one was seated
at the long table. They walked past the magnificent trees that had greeted them when they entered the gardens. The sun shone as brightly as before, the sky bluer than ever. Ai Ling glanced over her shoulder, feeling a heaviness as she walked closer to the red door. Why had her previous incarnation—she almost laughed at the thought—given herself to such a task? Should she take the word of the Goddess? She was in danger, and so were her friends.
Li Rong walked beside her, and Chen Yong strode a little ahead, as he always seemed to. “Thank you again for coming with me,” she said.
His expression was serious. Then the boyish mischief returned and he grinned widely. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Imagine the stories I can tell, the women I can impress after this fantastic adventure.”
Ai Ling smiled. Li Rong could make even the task of sending someone to his grave feel lighthearted.
With a soft touch, Chen Yong pushed the massive red doors open. The sea dragon was waiting, stretched out to its full length. Its beautiful green, blue, and turquoise scales were dazzling in the sun. Ai Ling walked with lighter steps, as if she too had cloud wisps clinging to her feet. She approached the creature first, and it bowed its head, inviting her to climb onto its back. Li Rong and Chen Yong climbed on behind her.
The dragon ran on its short muscular legs, then bounded into the air, riding the winds. The blue of the heavens spanned forever.
“I hope it isn’t too far away,” Ai Ling said, not knowing if Li Rong, sitting with his hands on her waist, could hear her with the wind singing in their ears.
She looked down and saw nothing but a thick bank of storm clouds. She glanced behind, in search of the Mountain of Heavenly Peace, but encountered only sky. She would never walk in the Immortals’ gardens again. The thought brought regret tinged with relief.
She could not say how long they traveled, but the next thing she knew, she woke with her cheek pressed to the spine of the dragon and a crick in her neck. She had fallen asleep, and the weight of Li Rong’s head on her back told her he had done the same. Ai Ling slowly straightened and glanced behind her. Li Rong opened his eyes, yawning. Chen Yong’s hands rested on his brother’s shoulders as he scanned the skyline, alert.
