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Chapter Text

Fengjiu balanced precariously on the rock ledge, eyeing her adversary. This particular vine not only had thorns but it defended itself by lashing out at other beings that attempted to steal its berries. She didn’t like the idea of suffering agonizing welts on her hands or arms, but she was a Bai through-and-through and refused to let this plant get the better of her.

She wanted to make her Uncle Zhe Yan proud of her.

To everyone else in the realms, he was revered as a legendary healer and one of the few immortals who could see the future. A brilliant, beautiful phoenix, Zhe Yan was sought after for his unparalleled peach blossom wine and whispered about as a mysterious Ancient whose full powers were unknown. But to Fengjiu, he was the mentor who had taught her everything. As a young and mischievous kit, he hadn’t suffered the worst of her silliness, although neither had he punished her the way her parents had before they’d sent her to live with him and her Uncle Bai Zhen. They had wanted to have her Aunt Bai Qian look after her, but….well, everyone in her family realized that Gu Gu’s affair with Crown Prince Ye Hua had been too turbulent to permit her to carry on the family tradition of caring for a sister or brother’s kits.

And Zhe Yan had been the best of mentors, for what all those in the realms who stood in awe of him didn’t realize was that Fengjiu’s ancient uncle was a real snark with a wicked streak of mischief, too. He might be wise, but he also had a keen sense of humor and tremendous practicality.

So, Zhe Yan never failed to discipline Fengjiu in a way that made her punishment, and any misfortunes that befell her, stem directly and undeniably from her own actions.

…and then, he also taught her how to achieve better results from her mischief.

Had she mouthed off to a teacher and gotten in trouble?

Then he said nothing to defend her to her teacher and doubled the assignment she was given as punishment. But then later, Zhe Yan taught her to debate strategically so that she could get what she wanted without getting in trouble.

Had she engaged in foolish behavior that lost face for herself? Then Uncle Zhe Yan let her fall flat on her face, even mocked her over it….and then taught her how she could use her reputation for foolishness strategically.

‘Wouldn’t you rather study which people believe the worst rumors about you, to sort your true friends out from the gossips and opportunists?’

From the moment that Fengjiu had realized that Zhe Yan was teaching her to tame her troublesome impulses to use them to her own advantage, rather than to make her into someone she wasn’t, she had utterly adored him. It had made her eager to learn everything he was willing to teach her.

And now that she found herself in a trickier situation than she’d anticipated, she was desperately determined to come out of it okay. If she could harvest some of these fiend berries, which were notoriously hard to come by, Zhe Yan would be impressed. But if she just ended up getting hurt, he would be disappointed.

Fengjiu could just hear him now.

‘You’re not a little kit now, you’re 28,000 years old, Xiao Jiu….’

Clenching her jaw, Fengjiu cast a strategic, focused burst of energy at the opposite end of the vines. It had the desired effect – the thorniest vines swept around to attack the threat, leaving the cluster of berries that she was after exposed. Not wasting a single instant, Fengjiu yanked off the entire cluster and shoved it in her jar. Enraged, the fiend-berry vines coiled to attack her, but Fengjiu was too quick for them. She hopped nimbly to a ledge much further below.

Or, at least, it might have been a clever escape had the ledge not been crumbly and loosened. As she felt the narrow jutting of rock begin to give way beneath her, Fengjiu cursed her poor judgment. She should have tested it first….

Fengjiu plummeted to the ground, waving her arms to cast buoyancy spells to catch her fall. It was frustrating that her ability to fly still hadn’t recovered fully from the hex that one of her schoolmates had cast on her as a prank.

Which…of course….had been in retaliation for a prank Fengjiu had played on him…

And Zhe Yan hadn’t healed her, since it was another example of trouble she’d gotten herself into.

And now, she was compounding it by---

Oof!

---landing right in a sacred desert of the Red Demon Realm.

Ouch! Fengjiu massaged her bottom as she clambered to her feet. Her pulse raced as she tried to think of a quick solution. This was bigger trouble than usual, even for her. Trespassing in a forbidden area of another tribe’s lands could trigger a border skirmish or some other diplomatic headache that her grandfather, the Fox King, would have to deal with. It would lose face for Qingqiu, not just for Fengjiu herself, and her whole family would have to deal with it. This was not good.

Fengjiu made a few more attempts at flying, but they were wobbly and poorly controlled. In the distance, she heard the roar of…well, it was big, whatever it was. And it sounded nasty. She needed to get out of this restricted demon land as fast as possible.

Shifting to her nine-tailed fox form, Fengjiu began dashing in the direction of mountains on the horizon. They looked like one of Qingqiu’s southern ranges.

But it got worse.

She heard shouts, too. Most likely demon soldiers. Oh, this was not good at all!

Fengjiu pushed herself harder, racing toward the mountains and what she hoped was Qingqiu, although now she couldn’t be sure. She also lamented the fact that her fur, unlike that of most of her family in the Bai Clan, was a bright, visible red. Why did she have to stand out like such a target?!!

The shouts and the roars were getting closer, no matter how swiftly Fengjiu’s paws carried her. In desperation, she hoped beyond all hope that Zhe Yan had foreseen this and would come flying to her rescue.

Yet it wasn’t Zhe Yan who swooped in at all, but a silver-haired immortal in purple robes. He scooped her up in one arm so quickly that she didn’t get a good look at his face, but she hardly needed to. Thanks to Zhe Yan, who told her way more than what was in the scrolls available in school, ancient history was her best subject. She knew that the one god with silver hair, who dressed in distinctive, purple robes, was the legendary Dong Hua Dijun. The only god who was even older, even more revered and awe-inspiring, than her uncle-by-marriage.

Although Fengjiu had heard way too much about him from Zhe Yan to be awed…

At one time in her youth, her childish fantasies had included catching the attention of the brilliant Dong Hua Dijun. This wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind. And Zhe Yan had disabused her of the idea that Dijun could ever take an interest in anyone.

Yet, she was grateful to be tucked safely in the crook of his arm at the moment.

He alighted on a massive rock and waited patiently for the boisterous demon warriors to arrive. A snarling, aggressive tiger arrived before they did, but Dijun merely cast a sleeping spell at it and it toppled, snoring, to the ground.

‘Can you pretend to be a spiritual fox?’ the legendary Emperor asked her quietly.

Fengjiu yipped affirmatively and folded her nine tails into something that looked like a single, bushy tail.

And none too soon, either. In moments, Red Demon warriors were everywhere, at least two dozen of them. They held their swords out defensively, although it was clear that they didn’t dare menace Dijun. Fengjiu was quite content to burrow herself down and peer meekly at the assembled force.

To her surprise, one who looked like a king soon appeared. In a deep, steady voice, this regal demon asked, ‘Dijun, these lands have been sacred to the Red Demons for generations. They are forbidden to all outsiders. By what right do you trespass in them now?’

‘Red Demon Lord Xu Yang,’ Dijun answered smoothly. ‘I must apologize to you and your tribe for my transgression. But, you see, my pet fox got loose and came looking for me while I was meeting with you in your palace. I caught sight of its distinctive fur when I was flying home. It is young and doesn’t know any better. It is my fault for not having trained it better.’

Fengjiu let out a soft, indignant whine. Dijun rested his hand on her head, then gave her a couple of sharp raps as if to rebuke her.

Ow! She fumed silently.

‘But that looks like a spiritual fox,’ one of the Red Demon warriors objected. ‘Except when they’re babies, they’re smart creatures.’

However, Xu Yang quickly silenced the warrior. Fengjiu could see that this had now become the usual game of allowing everyone to save face.

‘Are you insulting Dijun by suggesting he has willfully let his pet run wild in our sacred desert?’ Xu Yang asked pointedly.

The Red Demon warrior who had spoken hung his head sheepishly, nodded toward Fengjiu, and muttered, ‘Ehh….that fox does look rather foolish.’

Hey! Fengjiu harrumphed, although not too loudly. It came out as a muted whine. Dijun pinched her on the side. She twitched in discomfort but managed to stay quiet.

After a few more moments of negotiation in which – to Fengjiu’s shock – the Red Demon Lord proposed a marriage alliance between the Celestials and the Red Demons that would involve Xu Yang’s sister’s marriage to Dijun, Dijun was able to fly her safely back to Qingqiu. His first words when they landed, as she had expected, were a rebuke, but not the rebuke for trespassing that she had expected.

‘Do you always fuss when someone is trying to rescue you, Fox Princess?’

Fengjiu pushed herself out of the Ancient Emperor’s grip, landed on the ground, and transformed into her goddess form. She met his aloof, if bemused, gaze with the steady poise that her Uncles Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen had taught her since she was a young kit.

Bowing deeply, Fengjiu ignored his dig and said, ‘Bai Fengjiu thanks Dong Hua Dijun for saving my life and sparing my kingdom from a clash with the Red Demons. I am in your debt and will surely repay you one day.’

‘Bai…Fengjiu?’ Dijun repeated after quietly scrutinizing her for a moment. ‘I am not familiar with this name. How are you related to the Fox King?’

Zhe Yan is right, Fengjiu thought to herself, Dijun does seem to consider everyone else unimportant.

However, she plastered a smile on her face and replied, ‘Bai Zhi is my grandfather. I am the daughter of his second son, Bai Yi. My mother is Gumiho of the Red Spiritual Fox Clan.’

‘Hm,’ Dijun remarked, eyeing her a little dubiously. ‘Bai Yi once fought under my command. He was a level-headed warrior. Do you mean to tell me that such a sensible father has not taught you the dangers of trespassing on the sacred lands of another realm?’

Fengjiu dug her fingernails into her palms to prevent herself from shooting off her mouth at Dijun, although she desperately wanted to. ‘My father and mother taught me very wisely, as have my Uncles Bai Zhen and Zhe Yan, who have overseen my education for nine-thousand years. If I took a risk, it was my own fault,’ Fengjiu countered with a smile that was equal parts sweetness and lethal warning.

A warning which, if he noticed it at all, Dijun utterly neglected. Indeed, an infuriating smirk stretched across his face. ‘Zhe Yan?...ah…that explains it.’

‘What did you say?’ Fengjiu asked, unable to stop herself from taking a step toward Dijun. She did manage to keep herself from tightening her hands into fists as if to fight him.

Dijun’s arched eyebrow, though it made him look even more handsome, irked Fengjiu to no end.

‘I know Zhe Yan well,’ Dijun drawled with polite dismissiveness that Fengjiu imagined him cultivating over hundreds of thousands of years. ‘He concerns himself little about other realms, although he does have an indulgence for Qingqiu. Does he really let you wander at will into other clans’ territory?’

Fengjiu matched Dijun’s condescending tone with her own flippancy. ‘Zhe Yan is a far better mentor than some would be. As much as I have learned about the martial arts from my father and grandfather, Zhe Yan has taught me about healing. He doesn’t know that I was out gathering ingredients for remedies.’

Perhaps she was imagining it, but at the very moment that her tone bordered on being rude and disrespectful, Dijun’s eyes seemed to flicker with appreciation. ‘Fiend berries?’ he deduced.

Fengjiu nodded.

To her surprise, Dijun held out his hand and demanded, ‘Give me half and I will consider your debt to me repaid.’

Her jaw dropped and she gaped at him in disbelief. Was the exalted Dijun pilfering half of her bounty, after all the effort it took for her to collect even a few bunches?! It left Fengjiu sulking, but she quickly closed her mouth and pulled out the little sack where she’d stashed the fiend berries. She withdrew a fairly substantial cluster – slightly more than half of what she’d managed to grab before her fall – and held the ripe berries out to Dijun.

He waved his hand and the fiend berries vanished.

Fengjiu bowed and said with a smile. ‘Thank you again for saving my life, Dijun. Now that we have settled accounts, we won’t need to trouble each other again.’

She knew it was her temper getting the better of her, but perhaps it wasn’t the best choice of words. Dijun drew himself up to his full height as if to reinforce how much higher above her he was and, worse still, after looking momentarily miffed, he smirked so mischievously that Fengjiu anticipated retribution. Without saying anything further to her, Dijun turned his back and vanished.

So.

That was Dijun.

Fengjiu shrugged. ‘He did save me. So what if he looks down on me? It’s not like I spend any time in Heaven Kingdom.’

And she went home to the Ten Miles’ Peach Orchards to share her harvest with Zhe Yan.

Chapter Text

‘Am I really telling you at this late hour to stop mixing that elixir? Xiao Jiu, at this rate, your Gu Gu’s engagement ceremony will begin before we are there,’ Uncle Bai Zhen scolded her as she twisted the cap on her final vial of a rare antitode to most poisons in existence.

Those fiend berries were worth it! Fengjiu thought with satisfaction.

The antidote had turned out perfectly and would be the final addition to her wedding gift to Gu Gu and Ye Hua: a complete pharmacy, handmade by Fengjiu, and second only to what Zhe Yan might have produced.

‘Coming, uncle,’ Fengjiu answered, packing up the ornately carved, portable chest and joining her Fourth Uncle outside the rustic house where she lived with her two uncles.

Together, she and her Fourth Uncle flew to the Fox Den, her family’s ancestral home and the place that held her fondest childhood memories. Her parents and grandparents had indulged her a bit shamelessly and – at least before Gu Gu’s heavenly trial – her aunt had taken her to play in the mortal realms once or twice when Fengjiu was very young. And, of course, the Bai clan’s family meals…But, alas, they would be going straight to Heaven Kingdom after the reading of the engagement proclamation. Fengjiu set aside her hopes for a decent meal.

When she and Uncle Bai Zhen arrived outside the Fox Den, festive decorations were everywhere in celebration of Gu Gu’s formal betrothal to Ye Hua. Flower garlands draped the entrance to the Fox Den and lanterns dangled from every tree branch. What Fengjiu didn’t see, yet, was a bridal carriage or dozens of attendants.

Mi Gu, the family’s tree spirit steward, came out to greet them.

‘Have the delegates from Heaven Kingdom arrived yet with Tianjun’s proclamation?’ Bai Zhen asked. The answer was obvious to Fengjiu, but she understood why her Fourth Uncle asked anyway.

Mi Gu shook his head. ‘Zhe Yan  has not returned yet.’

‘I will welcome them formally, then,’ Bai Zhen decided. He turned to her and gestured toward the Fox Den. ‘Xiao Jiu, why don’t you see how your aunt is doing?’

Fengjiu nodded and made her way to the private chamber where her grandmother was already brushing Gu Gu’s hair in preparation for styling it with the beautiful, jade combs that Uncle Bai Zhen had fashioned for her as a wedding gift.

‘There you are!’ grandmother Ning Cang scolded affectionately. ‘Were you planning to miss this time with your aunt before she’s swept up in all of Heaven Kingdom’s rituals?’

‘I’m sorry, grandmother, Gu Gu, I was finishing my wedding present for the happy couple,’ Fengjiu apologized, holding up the pharmacy chest she’d made.

The Fox Queen shook her head but kept styling Gu Gu’s hair. ‘With all of the troubles Qian Qian and Ye Hua have had, are you cursing them to be sick with such a gift?’

‘With all the troubles Ye Hua and I have had, isn’t my niece being thoughtful in wanting us to be prepared for anything Fate might throw at us?’ Gu Gu drawled slyly. She and Fengjiu exchanged mischievous grins as Fengjiu sat down and joined her grandmother in combing Gu Gu’s hair.

Grandmother Ning Cang relented with a chuckle. ‘It is a waste to argue on such a happy day. And it is true, we nine-tailed foxes aren’t easily daunted by anything.’

Fengjiu enjoyed the playful intimacy with her aunt and grandmother, as well as her aunt’s gossip about Heaven Kingdom, until Gu Gu’s hair was fully styled and they were ready to go out for the reading of the proclamation. Fengjiu was surprised to learn that Dong Hua Dijun, whom she had encountered for the first time only recently, had been poised to enter a marriage alliance with the Red Demons when his bride had fled with her own guard. And Tianjun had thrown one of his own sons into prison over it! Not to mention that Dijun apparently had a foster sister who had attempted to take the bride’s place and trick Dijun into marrying her.

It all fit with what Zhe Yan had told her before: Dijun was brilliant as the unifier of the realms and Great King of Heaven, but stupid about ordinary things.

When she and grandmother escorted Gu Gu out to the great hall in the Fox Den, Fengjiu had to press her lips together until they were white to stifle a giggle. For there on the throne where her grandfather usually sat was the brilliant-yet-stupid Dijun himself!

She needn’t have worried, though. Fengjiu noticed that Dijun didn’t really look at anyone.

In fact, his only contribution to the entire ceremony was to sit on her father’s throne and hand Tianjun’s proclamation to the Third Prince of Heaven to read.

As Fengjiu knelt with her family and listened to the recitation of her aunt’s virtues, a very, very soft snort slipped out when the Third Prince declared that Bai Qian was good at cooking. Gu Gu had never liked cooking. She was more at home sparring with Kunlun disciples. Gu Gu was such an unenthusiastic cook that she would even rather eat the bland food of the mortal realms she visited than cook anything herself.

And as Empress, she wouldn’t have to, anyway.

So it seemed like a silly quality to include in such a list.

A stern side-eye from her mother had Fengjiu swallowing down her mirth as best she could, but her Fourth Uncle’s sly smirk nearly undid her. And when even Dijun glanced at her with an arched eyebrow and the Third Prince paused momentarily, Fengjiu knew it would be best for her to slip away. Her cousin Ah-Li, who had been excused from the ritual because of his age, provided her with a convenient escape.

He was leaning against a nearby wall, looking curious but bored.

It was a breach of etiquette to sneak out without requesting permission to leave, but Fengjiu did it anyway.

‘Fengjiu, Jie Jie, come play with me, this ceremony is so boring,’ Ah-Li urged when she joined him. He knew well enough to keep his voice quiet, but he wasn’t so quiet that Fengjiu didn’t need to shush him and lead him away.

They ran, giggling, through the tall grasses near the Fox Den, chasing after dragonflies and crickets until the afternoon sun’s warmth grew too tempting to resist and they lay down to watch the clouds. Fengjiu sighed as she held a leaf up and watched the sunlight stream through its pale green.

‘Why are you sighing, Fengjiu Jie Je? Is it because you’re daydreaming about your Mr. Right?’ Ah-Li asked, leaving Fengjiu to admire how perfectly he balanced his voice between innocence and mischief.

‘You little adult!’ she pushed right back at him. ‘Are your studies so boring that you’re reading your mother’s operas? I’m sighing because this is one of my last chances to relax, before your mother, my mother, and my Fourth Uncle put me on a long march of blind dates. I won’t get to have any fun in Heaven Kingdom, they’re keeping me so busy.’

‘What did you want to do for fun in Heaven Kingdom?’ asked her cousin.

Fengjiu slowly waved the leave in her hand, pretending she was fanning the clouds, as she said, ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what is fun in Heaven Kingdom.’

‘There is playing with my mother and father…although…they will be gone on their honeymoon,’ Ah-Li furrowed his brow, as if he’d just realized that he might not have much fun in Heaven Kingdom after the wedding, either. ‘There are some wildernesses and terraces to explore…and storytellers…Fengjiu Jie Jie, without my mother and father around, it will be boring. Will you play with me?’

Fengjiu held out her pinky to Ah-Li and grinned. ‘Promise. This will benefit both of us. I can beg off at least a few of the dates by telling my family that I’m looking after you. It’s a Bai tradition, after all.’

‘And you can teach me to prank people! Mother has said that even Zhe Yan hasn’t been able to train that out of you,’ Ah-Li added eagerly.

Laughing, Fengjiu poked him in the side and retorted, ‘What does your mother know about it? Zhe Yan has actually schooled me in how to prank people better.’

Wide-eyed, Ah-Li gasped, ‘Zhe Yan Shensheng* approves of pranking?’

With a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes, Fengjiu whispered, ‘Zhe Yan is an expert on pranks, only nobody knows it.’

‘But he’s an Ancient,’ Ah-Li stated the obvious.

‘So?’ Fengjiu countered. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘Aren’t the ancient gods supposed to be serious?’

Fengjiu realized that Ah-Li hadn’t spent as much time around her Uncle Zhe Yan as she had and hadn’t experienced his wit – or heard his opinions about some of his fellow Ancients. Grinning, she divulged something Zhe Yan had shared about one Ancient in particular.

‘Do you know what Zhe Yan says about that? He knows for certain that even Dijun plays pranks on others – and his are some of the worst! Of course, he gets away with it because he is so revered. One time, Zhe Yan told me, Dijun even tricked a demon lord into picking peaches—’

The sudden, boisterous fluttering of wings from several quail flying up from a nearby bush interrupted Fengjiu’s tale and, to her chagrin, standing not two paces away was the very subject of her gossip – Dong Hua Dijun.

What was he doing here?! Wouldn’t he be needed for the bridal procession?

But there was no time for worrying about that. Fengjiu had just been caught bad-mouthing one of the highest of all the gods, and even if she was just repeating what Zhe Yan had told her, she didn’t have Zhe Yan’s status. So, she scrambled to her feet – Ah-Li following along with her –offered a graceful bow….

…and set about brazening her way through not acknowledging a single thing she’d just said.

‘Bai Fengjiu greets Dong Hua Dijun and hopes that he is enjoying Qingqiu’s landscapes before the wedding procession.’

The silver-haired Emperor’s eyes appraised her, slightly narrowed with calculation, which did not bode well for Fengjiu. His reply certainly spelled trouble.

‘The scenery is greener than the sacred lands of a demon clan, but each can be appreciated.’

He wouldn’t bring that up in front of her family, would he?

Just as Fengjiu’s stomach sank as all of Zhe Yan’s stories about Dijun reminded her that he very likely would make trouble for Fengjiu, especially after she’d gossiped about him, Dijun’s next remark left her silently lamenting her fate.

‘And the wedding procession has already left for Heaven Kingdom. Third Prince Lian Song and Zhe Yan are leading it.’

The hint of amusement that twitched at the corner of Dijun’s mouth stirred Fengjiu’s ire just enough to snap her out of her dazed remorse for having missed Gu Gu’s departure.

‘It looks like my cousin and I are late. Please excuse us, Dijun, for leaving first,’ Fengjiu offered an irritated smile and half-hearted bow before taking Ah-Li’s hand and preparing to fly off with him.

Dijun’s silent dismissal, with a lay flick of his hand, resolved Fengjiu to stay out of his way for the entire banquet.

Unfortunately, thanks to the Lord of Numinous Treasures, that would be impossible.

‘Ah! Fengjiu Dianxia, how fortunate that I have encountered you,’ a familiar servant greeted her as she and Ah-Li were walking from the main gate of Heaven Kingdom toward Tianjun’s court, where the wedding banquet was being held. She recognized him as one who served the Lord of Numinous Treasures.

The servant bowed low and extended a potted plant toward her. Fengjiu blinked and wondered what he meant by pushing a plant at her when she was on her way to a wedding, although she was used to the eccentricities of his master. Another Ancient, the Lord of Numinous Treasures rarely left his own palace – not even to visit the other Ancients.

‘I offer my humble apologies for imposing on you,’ the servant explained. ‘However, my master had promised a croton tiglium to Zhe Yan, and thought it would be convenient to have it delivered to him while he was in Heaven Kingdom.’

Of course he did, Fengjiu sighed inwardly. Probably two centuries ago…

However, because Zhe Yan was on good terms with the Lord of Numinous Treasures and Fengjiu didn’t want any additional headaches involving the oldest gods, she smiled and accepted the plant.

And so it was that Fengjiu arrived at the banquet late and with a croton tiglium nestled in the crook of her arm. It’s not that she was unused to carrying every manner of medicinal herb around with her. Living and studying with Uncle Zhe Yan had gotten her used to collecting herbs, roots, berries, and even stranger things around in her sleeves. It was just inconvenient to be doing so now, at the wedding banquet that would be remembered and talked about for a generation.

Ah-Li ran off to take his place at the wedding party’s table.

Fengjiu, meanwhile, hoped to slip as quietly as she could into an open table just about anywhere in the banquet hall. She, too, was supposed to be at one of the main tables, since she was a member of Qingqiu’s royal family and this entire event was to honor the joining of the two kingdoms in a marriage alliance. For Fengjiu not to be sitting with everyone right at this minute was bad enough. She didn’t want to make it worse by showing up like a made, carrying around a plant. Her plan was to drink a little and chat up the guests near wherever she sat, and then make her way to her family’s table and pretend that she had already been mingling with potential suitors.

Her plan started out well enough.

She did receive a toast from the male immortal seated next to her and returned it in kind.

But the croton tiglium was just … a bit … too tall to fit under the table.

Frustrated at her inability to push it all the way beneath her low table, Fengjiu tried to shove it firmly in place with her foot—

—when the dang thing flew halfway across the room and nearly collided with Dijun’s head!

It hardly perturbed Dijun at all. He barely glanced at it as it hovered in the air near his head, as if it were of no more consequence than a fly.

But. The. Entire. Hall. Fell. Silent.

And then, with painstaking, unhurried, fluid movement, Dijun grasped the pot and turned his eyes toward Fengjiu.

That was when she saw it.

Even across a vast hall, she saw it.

Just the slightest hint of a smirk and twinkle of the eyes.

Fengjiu was reminded of what she’d been saying when Dijun had caught her gossiping about him.

…even Dijun plays pranks, and his are some of the worst…

Ooohhhh…..it made her spitting mad, although she admired his ability to take advantage of an opportunity like this.

That rotten old…she didn’t even know what to call him.

However, Zhe Yan had been schooling her on the dignity of her lineage, her status, and her kingdom for thousands of years. It wouldn’t do for her to let someone get the better of her, even if it was the lofty Dijun.

Never let someone hold you at a disadvantage, Xiao Jiu, Zhe Yan’s advice came back to her.

Boldly, Fengjiu strode down the steps to the center of a very, very silent hall and then climbed the steps again until she stood before Dijun. With a polite nod of the head – the bare minimum required while still showing respect – she said loudly, ‘Bai Fengjiu thanks Dijun for holding onto the Lord of Numinous Treasures’ gift for Zhe Yan. Please give it back, so that I may deliver it to him personally.’

For the span of several heartbeats, Dijun remained silent, putting on a show of considering her request. In front of everyone.

‘Why should I do that?’ he quibbled at last. ‘I have been in need of a croton tiglium in my medicinal garden and you clearly sent this into my hands. Is the Princess of Qingqiu rescinding such a pleasing tribute after making an open display of giving it to me?’

Fengjiu’s eyes narrowed at the old trickster. Hmph. It was obvious to her now that he’d conjured it toward himself to embarrass her.

Sweetly, she countered, ‘Dijun, unfortunately it isn’t mine to give. But if you have been struggling to grow this species in your own garden, I could help with that.’

A few, hushed murmurs spread among the guests at her suggestion that Dijun struggled to do anything. It seemed to be the right thing to say, however, because a smile slowly curved Dijun’s lips and he phased the plant away, presumably to Zhe Yan…

…who, Fengjiu noticed, wasn’t glaring at her. He even seemed to approve of her bravado and offered a subtle toast with his wine cup.

‘I won’t mind if you do some gardening for me after the wedding banquet,’ Dijun remarked with lazy disinterest as he strolled away in the direction he’d originally been headed, without another glance at her.

Her father, however, was glaring at her. And her aunt simply sighed and rolled her eyes.

Yes, that had been a disaster.

But Fengjiu felt a small amount of relief at the benefit she had still gained from this awkward scene. She’d just made herself notorious.

Surely, no bachelors would have any interest in blind dates with her now.

Chapter Text

‘Wait, why are there two, Mi Gu?’ Fengjiu asked as she looked at the scrolls concerning her blind dates for this afternoon. ‘Shouldn’t father want me to meet them one day at a time, so I can get to know them? Does he want me to rush?’

‘Dianxia*, there were actually three for today,’ Mi Gu explained awkwardly. ‘But Lord Yueshu* cares deeply about etiquette and punctuality, and you arrived late to Gu Gu’s wedding banquet.’

‘Ohhhh…what a….’ Fengjiu said very slowly, the corners of her lips curving into a sly smile. ‘…shame. So, what can you tell me about the other two, Mi Gu?’

The Bai Clan’s steward gestured to the scrolls and suggested, ‘Why not read what your father wrote?’

Fengjiu arched an eyebrow at Mi Gu and tapped one of the scrolls. ‘Father only writes about their families and achievements. What about the interesting stuff? What should I know so that I don’t…ahem….accidentally make any more mistakes to scare these ones off?’

‘Just don’t drink too much wine with the first one,’ Mi Gu advised her. ‘And the second one is from a highly respected family. He does not seem to have any faults.’

Fengjiu sighed.

Hadn’t she managed to scare off all the respectable ones?

Reluctantly, she let her Gu Gu’s maids dress her, although she persuaded them to keep her outfit simple.

‘I’m not fussy about how I dress and it’s just an initial meeting in a public place,’ Fengjiu insisted as the maids of Xiwu Palace first brought out elegant, silk robes stitched with gold, fancy hairpins, and far too much jewelry.

‘But Dianxia, you are now family of the imperial household of Heaven Kingdom,’ one of the senior maids cajoled her. ‘It isn’t putting on airs to dress according to your new station.’

Fengjiu snorted. ‘I’m still of Qingqiu and have lived half my life with my uncles in the Ten Miles Peach Orchard. Find me something comfortable.’

When she left Xiwu Palace, it was in elegant, pink robes similar to those worn by her uncle-by-marriage, Zhe Yan; a compromise with her aunt’s maids’ impulse to accentuate her familial connections to exalted immortals. Fengjiu couldn’t see Gu Gu caring a whit about status, given what she’d suffered at the hands of Ye Hua’s snobby family, so she decided it must be something to do with Heaven Kingdom. Maybe everyone here was snooty.

She sauntered out to the designated pergola near a lotus pond and paused to admire the delicate, perfect white petals of those serene flowers. They were the most beautiful things she had yet seen in Heaven Kingdom, for all its splendor. Perhaps it was their simplicity amidst so much opulence, or maybe it was just that she had learned from Zhe Yan how many remedies could be prepared with elements of the lotus. Its root, its petals, its seed, all conferred healing.

As she smiled at the lotus blooms drifting on the water’s surface, she did not spy the hints of purple silk behind a nearby tree and rock beside the next pond over.

Fengjiu turned and stepped up to the intimate, two-seat  marble table beneath the pergola and set out the wine and cups she’d brought with her. She’d come prepared to see if the first bachelor her father had arranged for her to meet could compromise. She wouldn’t drink too much wine – for a Bai – but it would be pointless for a strict teetotaller to marry into her family.

The immortal who showed up looked like any of the blue-robed scholars who wandered Heaven Kingdom’s pathways in packs, caught up in quibbling over this or that passage from a scroll. His forehead was a bit broad, his face a bit wide, but otherwise he was tidy and ordinary. He didn’t really make much of an impression on Fengjiu one way or another.

And his eyes settled warily on the cup that she’d set out for him to join her in tasting some of Zhe Yan’s finest peach blossom wine. Many immortals who didn’t care much for wine had acknowledged how pleasing Zhe Yan’s vintages were.

But what’s-his-name, her first bachelor of her extended stay for Gu Gu’s and Ye Hua’s wedding banquet, asked her to stop pouring when the wine barely filled half of his cup. Fengjiu shrugged and filled her own, offering a toast to the opportunity to make new friends as part of the wedding celebrations. He politely raised his cup and sipped.

When his lips pursed with distaste and he set the cup down, Fengjiu wrote him off.

In fact, she let herself get downright tipsy. Nothing more than she would among family, but she could hardly be expected to refrain from her own preferences when Mr. Dainty wasn’t making much of an effort on his part. And, when she got tipsy, her mischief tended to increase. With a slight twitch of her pinky, she conjured a second, empty wine jug beneath the table and then kicked it with her foot.

‘Oops!’ she declared with false sheepishness. Grinning at him drunkenly – more drunkenly than she actually felt – Fengjiu declared, ‘I got started a bit early.’

Mr. Dainty grimaced at her awkwardly and remembered another engagement that he needed to rush off to. Fengjiu smirked after his retreating form.

And she hadn’t even gotten the chance to talk with him about what it was like growing up in a household that made wine.

Fengjiu’s first date left so soon after joining her that she had some time to kill before the second bachelor showed up. So, she sat on the edge of the lotus pond and gently prodded the flowers with a stick, occasionally reaching out to try to touch one of the carp that swam lazily in the water. When she heard the next man approaching, Fengjiu moved back to the table.

‘Fengjiu Dianxia,’ a slender, young immortal greeted her. He was handsome enough, although Fengjiu didn’t care for the wispy beard he was cultivating. Something about it looked out of place on his youngish face. She half wondered if he’d glued it on.

But the way he talked!

The beard matched all right. He droned on like an old scholar, mainly about his own family.

‘My great-grandfather has drawn charts of all the realms in relation to one another……my mother’s aunt is known for embroidering the most realistic scenes of ancient battles….my cousin has designed charms against earaches…..’

‘Oh…is that so….?’ Fengjiu found herself saying repeatedly. She couldn’t even muster interest in a way to treat earaches, since Zhe Yan had already taught her dozens of different remedies for this.

Fengjiu began slouching and resting her chin on her hand. How could she get out of this one?

A gentle breeze wafted a stray hair across her face and she absently brushed it away. It also gave her an idea.

One spell she had long ago perfected for her own entertainment was summoning fireflies. It was so easy that she just had to form the thought purposefully and dozens of fireflies would drift to where she was. So, she continued feigning patience with Lord Loquacious while, in her mind, stirring every firefly in Heaven Kingdom to a sudden curiosity about this very spot.

The first few bobbed across her date’s vision and he waved them away.

Then, there were dozens meandering around each other. They created a nice, blinking screen between Fengjiu and the tiresome immortal who her father somehow thought would make a good son-in-law.

And Lord Loquacious, who grew increasingly flustered at something in the air that distracted attention from his long-winded tales, rose from the table, bowed to Fengjiu, and left. Once his back was turned and he was sufficiently far away, she smiled.

That was better.

She sauntered away in the opposite direction.

But the fireflies trailed after her and circled her head in such great numbers that she had trouble focusing on the path in front of her.

‘Eh! Shoo! I release you,’ Fengjiu snapped, waving her hands in front of her face. They ignored her and continued to drift and bob by her eyes, hair, and ears.

A deep, relaxed voice nearby asked, ‘Did you not summon them to accompany you?’

Fengjiu sighed and wondered if she was doomed to be bothered by Heaven Kingdom’s most exalted resident for the remainder of her stay. As she swatted at the fireflies, she imagined swatting away someone else, too. However, she owed Zhe Yan far too much to cause any trouble for him by being rude to Dijun, so she made her way around the rock and flowers to where the silver-haired emperor was reclining on a bench and bowed in acknowledgment.

‘Bai Fengjiu pays her respects to Dong Hua Dijun. I hope I did not disturb your peace,’ she declared, not bothering to answer his cheeky question. She straightened up and did her best to ignore the few fireflies that remained bobbing around her head. Dijun was making a point, but she didn’t have to give him the satisfaction of getting flustered.

‘You only hoped to disturb the peace of your companions. As strategies go, that was fairly harmless,’ Dijun observed. Just when Fengjiu thought she might get away without too much trouble, Dijun added an insult. ‘Your magic is too weak to disturb me.’

The jab at her abilities was unnecessary and absurd. Anyone’s magic would be too weak to disturb Dijun. Fengjiu recognized the attempt to raise her hackles for what it was. After all, Zhe Yan had already warned her.

Dijun is never more capricious than when he is bored.

‘How fortunate,’ Fengjiu delivered her perfunctory reply with her most-charming smile. The last of the fireflies drifted away. However, Fengjiu’s eyes narrowed when her gaze fell to Dijun’s hands. Or rather, to the small patch of his left wrist that peeked out from his sleeve.

‘What’s wrong with your veins?’ she asked bluntly.

They were swollen and bluish. How could that be?

Dijun lost none of his poise, although he did withdraw his hands further beneath his purple robes to conceal his wrists from view. ‘There is nothing wrong with my veins,’ he answered smoothly, even as his eyes gleamed with annoyance.

‘Strange, it looks an awful lot like Qiushui Cold Toxin,’ Fengjiu retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

‘Whether it is or whether it isn’t, that’s no concern of yours,’ Dijun countered.

Fengjiu huffed in disdain. Zhe Yan definitely knew Dijun well.

Xiao Jiu, Dijun is the worst patient I’ve ever treated. He always knows better and refuses to follow any advice – especially the most basic advice to get rest when he needs it.

‘Rest. Cultivation. Preferably in a pure environment. An acanthus serum, if you can be troubled,’ Fengjiu prescribed, although Dijun probably knew all of this already.  She bowed once again and prepared to excuse herself. Just as she was turning away, Dijun spoke up.

‘Huangqin is stronger.’

Fengjiu shook her head. ‘Too overpowering. You need something weaker.’

And Fengjiu could almost hear her uncle-by-marriage adding, ‘And stop working yourself to death.’

Dijun waved his hand in dismissal, so she took her leave and walked off. But on her way back to Xiwu Palace, she couldn’t help wondering…

…what could have made Dijun sick?

Chapter Text

Dong Hua Dijun sat on a cushion before the table where he typically prepared remedies and blends of tea. It was a private alcove near Tai Chen Palace’s kitchen, far removed from any place where Lian Song or others aside from Zhong Lin might disturb him. He crushed acanthus leaves in a bowl and blended them with other, simple ingredients.

An acanthus serum, if you can be troubled.

Dijun smiled as he transferred the mixture to a white jade vial and then phased it briefly to a mountain in the mortal realms. It was an easy method for accelerating the preparation of any remedy that needed to steep for a day or a week, one that he’d been using for well over half his life.

Zhe Yan’s apprentice was scarcely a blink in his lifetime. But he didn’t mind testing her advice. If the suggestion of a weaker remedy was effective, then his health stood to benefit. If it was ineffective, he would amuse himself by pointing out her failure and seeing how she reacted.

Bai Fengjiu’s reactions had proven interesting so far.

She certainly had better vision than most. Aside from Zhong Lin and Lian Song, no one else in Heaven Kingdom was aware of Dijun’s illness. No one noticed. But, then, no one thought to look, either, since Dijun was reputed to be invulnerable.

Unlike those who had served him.

He had outlived so many brave, virtuous beings. Like Meng Hao.

Dijun looked down at his veins, blue and swollen from the Qiushui Cold Toxin he had drawn into himself from Meng Hao’s frail, half-demon daughter, Ji Heng. It was a severe and lingering venom, but Dijun could detoxify it in his own body far more effectively than he could in a sickly patient. He also felt bound by honor to free Meng Hao’s daughter from this misery, since he had been too late to save his former general’s life.

That, and by healing the half-demon princess, Dijun had freed her to elope with the guard she was obsessed with, thus freeing himself from the inconvenience of the marriage alliance that Red Demon Lord Xu Yang had proposed.

‘DONG HUA!’

Dijun sighed as his reflections were interrupted by a familiar voice.

Lian Song arrived, striding faster than a flustered, apologetic Zhong Lin. When they both stood before Dijun, he waved Zhong Lin away, freeing his steward to return to more important duties around the palace. Dijun would manage the sulky Third Prince.

‘Sit,’ Dijun nodded toward a cushion he had just conjured for Lian Song. His irate friend towered over him for a long moment, perhaps in an attempt to look menacing, before he relented and sat down.

‘You might have told me about the ruse at that mockery of a wedding ceremony of yours,’ Lian Song complained. ‘Do you know the grief I’ve received from my father for that calamity?’

At this over-dramatic statement, Dijun’s lips curved in an unimpressed smile. ‘Calamity? You spent barely two days in prison before I persuaded your father to release you for the sake of Ye Hua’s wedding. Did you not lead the bridal procession into Heaven Kingdom?’

As usual, Lian Song had the nerve to argue with Dijun – an entertaining trait that long ago persuaded Dijun that the Third Prince made a worthy friend.

‘You’re missing the point, Dong Hua,’ Lian Song blinked at him in annoyance, speaking slowly as if Dijun were a dolt. ‘Father decided just now that Ye Hua’s grand wedding, so soon after that sham of a pretend wedding that you orchestrated without letting me in on the secret, risked insulting the Red Demons. So, he is punishing me by proclaiming that, if the Red Demon Princess is ever found, I will be expected to marry her to save face for both our kingdoms!’

The laughter that threatened to bubble up from Dijun’s throat never made it to his lips. His eyebrows did rise in amusement, though, and Tianjun’s latest provocation of one of his sons.

‘Then make sure that Ji Heng and her guard are never found,’ Dijun presented Lian Song with the sensible solution.

Lian Song huffed in disdain, ‘Dong Hua, you are an unsympathetic friend.’ True to form, his anger spent itself fairly quickly and his attention shifted to Dijun’s activities. As Dijun recalled the vial of acanthus serum from where it had just steeped for a few days in the mortal realm, Lian Song nodded at it and asked, ‘What are you making?’

‘Acanthus serum. I’m trying it on the Qiushui Cold Toxin,’ Dijun answered as he poured the serum through a cloth strainer into a cup and then began sipping the Princess of Qingqiu’s remedy.

‘You know, what you really need is rest. You’re trying to suppress Miao Luo single-handedly,’ Lian Song advised.

Dijun set the emptied vial down on the table and swallowed the last of his concoction.

‘The only other capable of suppressing Miao Luo is Mo Yuan,’ Dijun pointed out, looking at his own wrist and forearm instead of at Lian Song. ‘It has scarcely been half a century since he returned to life after piecing his spirit back together over 70,000 years. If anyone needs rest, it is Mo Yuan. I will handle Miao Luo.’

Dijun ignored his friend’s impatient huff and continued watching his veins. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction to see the virulent blue fade slightly in the main veins and disappear completely from a few smaller veins. More importantly, the fatigue that had he had endured since drawing this poison into his body from Meng Hao’s daughter lessened slightly.

‘The weaker treatment was more effective,’ he murmured, pleased. Then, a bit louder, he said, ‘Zhong Lin.’

Moments later, his capable steward appeared and bowed, ready to serve. ‘Yes, Dijun?’

‘Invite the Princess of Qingqiu for lunch. Her prescription is not bad and I would like to discuss her understanding of Qiushui Cold Toxin further,’ Dijun instructed. With another bow, Zhong Lin retreated to take care of the necessary arrangements.

‘Don’t you risk offending Qingqiu, after embarrassing their future queen at Ye Hua’s wedding?’ Lian Song remarked.

With arched eyebrows, Dijun countered, ‘I am inviting Qingqiu’s princess to lunch to make amends and thank her for a prescription that has suppressed some of the symptoms of the toxin. Apparently, she has learned a thing or two from Zhe Yan.’

Lian Song had the nerve to stare at him in alarm. What was that look for?

‘What are you serving her for lunch?’ Lian Song asked.

When Dijun answered that he planned to prepare the sweet and sour fish recipe he had been working to perfect, Lian Song grimaced.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Dijun asked, irritated with the Third Prince’s unspoken judgment.

‘If you oblige Bai Fengjiu to partake of your sweet and sour fish, Dijun, you will most certainly offend Qingqiu.’

***

Fengjiu gave her name to the guards at the gate to Tai Chen Palace and they uncrossed their spears to let her pass. It was the most-magnificent residence in all of Heaven Kingdom, moreso even than Xiwu Palace, where her aunt lived as the Crown Princess. A quiet, unassuming steward in grey robes approached to guide her to where Dong Hua Dijun awaited her, seated at a table beside a koi pond.

‘Bai Fengjiu greets Dong Hua Dijun,’ she said, bowing slightly. Her eyes flitted to his wrist and saw that the Qiushui Cold Toxin seemed to have faded.

Dijun noticed where she’d glanced and actually rolled up his sleeve to reveal that, while there were still signs of the malignant, purplish-blue toxin in his veins, the intensity had lessened. Figuring that Dijun’s lunch invitation was really a way to disguise a consultation, she sat down on a stool near him to examine his arm.

With fingers poised to take his pulse, Fengjiu paused, fixed her eyes on his, and let out a questioning, ‘Hm?’

‘Hm,’ Dijun affirmed, nodding his consent.

She pressed her fingers to his wrist and focused attentively for several moments. ‘Your pulse is strong. A bit elevated, even. The Qiushui Cold Toxin has definitely weakened. With rest, it should clear up in forty or fifty years.’

It hardly surprised Fengjiu when Dijun sidestepped her advice to rest and, instead, asked, ‘Why did you suggest a weaker remedy rather than a stronger one?’

Zhe Yan had already warned her that Dijun was stubborn about taking advice, especially when it involved resting, and the chronicles about his achievements in ancient times held the key to his penchant for stronger remedies. Hadn’t he perfected the strategy of amassing such a position of strength that he intimidated many of his adversaries into yielding without a fight?

‘Do you play chess?’ Fengjiu asked.

Dijun’s eyebrows rose with interest. ‘Do you?’

‘No,’ Fengjiu answered bluntly. ‘But if you do, then you may be aware of the strategy of leveraging a weakness against a strength. Qiushui Cold Toxin is aggressive. It grows stronger when treated with strong remedies, but it can be worn down by something weaker. It’s tricky.’

‘Hmm,’ Dijun nodded. He looked down at his arm and Fengjiu realized that she was still holding her fingers against his wrist. She withdrew her hand. A slight frown briefly tugged at his face before he offered her lunch. Although Fengjiu rarely found meals not prepared by herself or others from Qingqiu, she accepted out of diplomacy and more than a little curiosity.

After all, how many immortals got to say that they dined with Dong Hua Dijun? Fengjiu was curious to see what the most-exalted god in the realms actually ate.

The sweet and sour fish that the kitchen maids brought out to them looked appetizing enough. However, Fengjiu’s sensitive, fox’s nose put her on guard. Something smelled off.

And when she tasted it, Fengjiu dearly wished she didn’t have to swallow it. But it would be rude to spit it out….no matter how poorly cooked the fish and sickly sweet the sauce. Fengjiu’s eyes went glassy and she struggled to chew the inedible morsal, quite convinced that her face must be turning a sickly shade of green.

Finally, with a slight shudder of nausea, she swallowed it down. Then, she set her chopsticks down as well.

And there was no mistaking it – Dijun’s expression grew decidedly prickly. From the way he shifted away in his seat to his lofty, unwillingness to look her in the eye – or even look down his snooty nose at her – it was clear to Fengjiu that she had offended him. Since that was the case, she had nothing left to lose by being candid. This was another lesson Zhe Yan had taught her.

If you offend, then finish the job and speak your mind. In the end, your perspective might yield a benefit to someone and that could salvage the relationship for you in time.

‘Dijun, you should send away the cook who prepared this fish. You should not risk the reputation of Tai Chen Palace by serving such badly cooked food. Perhaps the Qiushui Cold Toxin has dampened your sense of taste so you did not notice it.’

He cast a sulky glance at her and Fengjiu quickly lowered her head to conceal a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. Dijun looked exactly like Zhe Yan when his feathers had been ruffled. Was this a thing with Ancients, when a criticism managed to get under their skin?

‘I suppose you could do better?’ Dijun’s cold voice jolted her rather harshly.

Don’t be snarky. Don’t be snarky, Fengjiu warned herself.

With a polite smile, she said, ‘I believe I could.’

That was how Fengjiu found herself in a spacious, airy kitchen, far grander than the rustic, familiar kitchens of the Fox Den, under pressure to prepare sweet and sour fish for a rather salty deity. It was hardly a challenge, though. After all, sweet and sour fish was one of the first dishes she’d learned to cook – one of her favorites, actually. So, she carried out each step with the same ease as walking or breathing.

Or dancing. She moved fluidly between chopping spring onions at the prep table, turning the fish as it fried in the wok, mixing the spices, sprinkling them on the fish as she flipped it again…

Over the lively sizzling of the oil in the wok, and the tat-tat-tat  of the knife as she chopped the onions, Fengjiu didn’t notice her silver hairpin slipping out of her gently styled locks to land with a single, soft ping on the floor. So, it caught her off-guard when she turned to present a beautifully plated fish to Dijun, only to see him staring at her Uncle Bai Zhen’s skilled artwork. It had been a birthday gift when she had reached 18,000 years.

‘What is this flower? It is unfamiliar to me. Is it native to Qingqiu?’ Dijun asked.

Fengjiu set down the sweet and sour fish and picked up some chopsticks to offer Dijun in exchange for her hairpin. ‘It is one of the constellations that can be seen in the night sky above Qingqiu. My Fourth Uncle made it for me,’ she explained, extending the chopsticks to Dijun to prompt an exchange.

It flustered her slightly when he gestured for her to turn around. Why couldn’t he just let her put the damned pin back in her own hair?

Especially when his fingers were so light and skilled at arranging hair. The gentle tugging and twisting was too pleasant. Fengjiu fought to keep herself from blushing as she recalled the girlish crush she had harbored for Dijun thousands of years ago, before Zhe Yan had educated her on how futile it was. She turned quickly as soon as Dijun had finished and almost shoved the chopsticks at him in an effort to restore the distance between them.

Nodding to the savory, aromatic dish she had just prepared, she said, ‘Have a taste.’

With a dignified pause that stood in start contrast to Fengjiu’s own haste, Dijun took the chopsticks and sampled the fish. His expression softened and lost its indifferent edge. ‘Not bad,’ he complemented. The polite indifference returned when he nodded toward the cup that held a cluster of chopsticks. While Fengjiu drew out a pair for herself, Dijun picked up the plate of sweet and sour fish and carried it out to the table where Fengjiu had first met him that afternoon.

They ate the fish together, Dijun inquiring about the recipe and techniques he had observed her using, Fengjiu sharing a little about her family’s pride in well-cooked meals. With quiet satisfaction, Fengjiu noted how heartily Dijun indulged in the dish. After he had caused her to lose face at her aunt’s wedding, this open acknowledgment of her skill lessened the sting. To her amusement, Dijun even dipped his finger in the sauce and licked it appreciatively when they had picked the fish clean.

She excused herself to leave, since Dijun had only invited her to lunch and her Fourth Uncle had planned a walk with her through Heaven Kingdom’s streets that afternoon to show her off. It was a concession she’d had no choice but to accept in order to appease her father, who was still fuming about the wedding.

Fengjiu’s parting words were advice that Dijun should be mindful to get rest while continuing daily treatments with the acanthus serum. ‘The Qiushui Cold Toxin should clear up in just a few decades that way,’ she promised.

Dijun inclined his head as he waved his hand, giving her leave to depart, so she thought that maybe, just maybe, she had achieved what Zhe Yan had sworn was impossible. Perhaps Dijun would take her advice about healing the infection.

She didn’t expect to cross paths with him again in Heaven Kingdom, really.

Her walk with her Fourth Uncle went well; Bai Zhen made pointed yet discreet observations to her about which bachelors were ill-suited for her and which ones might be promising. One or two of them seemed interesting enough to Fengjiu, although none truly struck her heart. And Fengjiu was waiting for that same certainty that her Fourth Uncle had felt when he had first encountered Zhe Yan, or that her grandfather had felt when, as a much younger man, he had helped her grandmother catch the ducks she needed for a banquet she was expected to prepare for her own grandmother’s birthday.

It surprised her to receive another summons to Tai Chen Palace about a month later, this time without any explanation as to the reason.

Did Dijun want another taste of her sweet and sour fish? Or perhaps pointers on how to cook it?

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her when Dijun’s steward, Zhong Lin, ushered her into a private room far from any of the public gardens or receiving halls in Tai Chen Palace. From a distance, Dijun looked like he was sleeping in bed. As they drew closer, Fengjiu was alarmed to see how deathly pale Dijun looked. Worse, there were angry, dark blue veins practically choking his neck. A sickly aroma of infection hung in the air. Third Prince Lian Song stood beside Dijun’s bed, his expression grim.

‘Why is Dijun like this?!’ Fengjiu asked in alarm.

‘Dian Xia,’ Zhong Lin responded with deference, his voice heavy with concern. ‘This is a matter of utmost secrecy. I am even now disobeying Dijun’s instruction to me to tell no one of his collapse. But your treatment before was effective and Dijun’s life is in jeopardy, so I would rather risk his punishment, so long as he can survive. What do you know of an ancient demon named Miao Luo?’

Chapter Text

‘Miao Luo…wasn’t she the one who claimed she would unify the demon realms and conquer Heaven Kingdom?’ Fengjiu furrowed her brow, recalling her lessons in ancient history. ‘I thought Dijun defeated her before I was born.’

‘Dijun imprisoned Miao Luo,’ Zhong Lin agreed. ‘But it was not exactly a defeat. Dijun expends his own cultivation to keep Miao Luo from breaking out of her prison, but she grows stronger every day. When he returned most recently, he collapsed.’

Fengjiu took in Dijun’s sickly appearance and shook her head. ‘That Qiushui Cold Toxin can’t be helping, either. What have you done for him?’

‘Si Ming has created a mortal trial for Dijun,’ Third Prince Lian Song explained. ‘Experiencing the bitternesses of mortal existence is one of the more-effective ways to replenish cultivation. But it has not been having the desired effect.’

Fengjiu nodded. ‘He was already sick and made himself worse by depleting his own spiritual essence to subdue this Miao Luo. I can do a little to restore his physical health, but you should let me send for Zhe Yan.’

Zhong Lin looked deeply uncertain as his eyes flitted from Fengjiu to Lian Song and back again. She didn’t want to make trouble for the anxious steward, but it was clear to her that Dijun needed more than ordinary medicine. As a phoenix, not to mention an ancient, Zhe Yan had healing powers Fengjiu could never achieve.

‘Perhaps you and Third Prince Lian Song should discuss it while I administer another acanthus serum and a few fortifying tonics?’ Fengjiu suggested.

This seemed to ease Zhong Lin’s worrying a bit. He readily withdrew with Lian Song while Fengjiu summoned a few remedies from her collection back in the Ten Miles peach orchards. She settled onto a stool beside Dijun’s bed and began spooning drops of medicine into his mouth – which barely seemed to be breathing at all. Indeed, his face was so pale that it seemed to blend seemlessly into his silver hair. Motionless and white, in that moment he truly seemed like he had been carved out of jade.

‘The realms aren’t ready for you to die just yet, Dong Hua Dijun,’ Fengjiu whispered, silently urging him to hold on as she continued spooning medicine into his mouth.

And she really couldn’t believe that Dijun’s steward, Zhong Lin, was ready for him to die, either. He was clearly devoted – and desperate enough to go against Dijun’s pigheaded order to keep his collapse a secret. Perhaps….

A sly grin curved Fengjiu’s lips as she glanced sidewise at Zhong Lin, who was at a distance speaking in hushed tones to Third Prince Lian Song and still looking very torn. Perhaps Fengjiu should just make things easy for everyone?

After all, she could simply tell Dijun she was repaying him for saving her that time.

Fengjiu withdrew a small vial from the sleeve of her robes and unstopped it. She spilled a single drop on her tongue and then blew out between her lips, forming an image in her mind of Tai Chen Palace and Dijun lying in his sickbed. The faint breeze she had stirred would carry her silent message to Zhe Yan, who had crafted this charm to give her a way to reach him if she were ever in danger.

Sure enough, Fengjiu had hardly spooned another quarter of a bowl of medicine into Dijun’s mouth before Zhe Yan arrived, walking down the corridor of Tai Chen Palace and flustering Zhong Lin with his arrival. The dutiful steward seemed frozen between safeguarding his master’s privacy and relief that the most-skilled healer in the realms had arrived.

Zhe Yan merely arched an eyebrow and said, ‘Show me where Dijun is. You should have called me sooner, Dong Hua and his pride be damned.’

Fengjiu smiled, knowing that her uncle-by-marriage would have used his sight to determine why she had sent out a call for help and would have known instantly about Dijun’s grave condition. Third Prince Lian Song tipped his fan toward Zhe Yan, smiling diplomatically as he attempted to take charge of the situation. Fengjiu giggled to see Zhe Yan nudge the Third Prince’s fan aside with his own fan and stride right past him. Zhong Lin and Lian Song were left to hurry after Zhe Yan, who was at Fengjiu’s side in the next moment.

‘Acanthus serum?’ Zhe Yan asked her as she rose to her feet, ceding the physician’s stool to him.

Nodding, Fengjiu explained, ‘It was a little relief for his Qiushui Cold Toxin, since I knew I didn’t possess the power to treat his greater wound.’

Zhe Yan shook his head and exhaled in frustration as he took Dijun’s pulse. ‘Even I don’t possess enough power to treat the kind of wounds that this noble idiot inflicts on himself.’

‘Shen Shang--*’ Zhong Lin began, but fell silent at a single, stern glance from Zhe Yan.

Fengjiu noticed that even Third Prince Lian Song seemed to be resigned to letting Zhe Yan take over. He folded his arms and watched as her uncle-by-marriage stretched his hand over Dijun’s motionless form and showered his fellow ancient with cultivation. Zhe Yan was one of the few immortals in all the realms capable of transferring his own cultivation to others and, even more importantly, as a phoenix, his cultivation was uniquely rejuvenating.

When, at last, Zhe Yan lowered his hand and the golden light that had bathed the entire room faded, Dijun’s fingers twitched atop his silk blankets. It was the first sign of life Fengjiu had seen since she’d arrived. The others noticed it, too, for Zhong Lin took a step toward the bed and murmured a hopeful, ‘Dijun…?’

‘He is strong enough to heal himself now,’ Zhe Yan pronounced. He smirked reassuringly at both Zhong Lin and Lian Song, now that Dijun was out of danger. ‘And that is how Dong Hua prefers it. If he tries to scold either of you, just tell him I barged in here after seeing a dramatic turn in his fate and you couldn’t stop me.’

Third Prince Lian Song mirrored Zhe Yan’s smirk, and Fengjiu guessed that this Heavenly scion must have known Dijun long enough to understand him the way Zhe Yan did. Together, Lian Song and Zhong Lin bowed to Zhe Yan.

‘Thank you, Shen Shang*,’ Zhong Lin expressed his relieved gratitude.

‘Zhe Yan is most thoughtful,’ Lian Song acknowledged.

‘There’s still a faint trace of the Qiushui Cold Toxin,’ Fengjiu noticed as her uncle-by-marriage rose to his feet.

Zhe Yan’s eyebrows arched mischievously. ‘Xiao Jiu, Dijun doesn’t like to be in anyone’s debt. I need to give him at least some reason to grumble about my inadequate care, don’t I?’

Out of consideration for Zhong Lin, Fengjiu bit her lip to keep from giggling.

Her uncle’s gaze lingered on her for a while until his eyes narrowed and he studied her intensely. She wondered if her giddiness was too impolite, given the seriousness of Dijun’s condition. To her surprise, though, after a few more moments laughter suddenly bubbled up from Zhe Yan’s chest, so deep and robust that it baffled her and left Zhong Lin and Lian Song staring at each other in confusion.

What was so funny?

‘Fengjiu,’ Zhe Yan said at last. ‘As a healer, you should observe Dijun’s mortal trial. Si Ming will have applied his abilities to the utmost, since it’s Dijun, so you’ll have the chance to learn the key elements necessary to restoring cultivation by this means. Go see Si Ming to learn the basics from him first.’

‘But won’t that be dangerous for Dijun?’ Lian Song protested, giving voice to Fengjiu’s own concern.

Again, Zhe Yan scrutinized her with mirth in his eyes. ‘Absolutely not. Fengjiu will fit right in.’

And so, Fengjiu found herself speaking with Si Ming, a somewhat awkward immortal who seemed like the god of all scholars. He was kind enough, though, and as the Lord of Mortal Destinies was a true artist where the common, immutable suffering of mortal existence was concerned. As he led her through his library, scrolls piled high on shelves all around them, Si Ming explained with humility:

‘Even if I were not here, doing what I do, Fate would provide a general outline of the destiny of each living being in the mortal realms, as it does for we immortals. My actions do not make the mortals suffer, Fengjiu Dian Xia. Suffering is merely part of their nature. What I do is add a script for each of them that will enable them to grow their cultivation and ascend to immortality – if they find the right way to respond to their own, allotted miseries.’

They came to the shelf where Dijun’s scroll rested, not in any special place but just piled among so many others, and Si Ming withdrew it to let Fengjiu read the details before descending to observe his experience. Si Ming pointed to a particular passage on the scroll.

‘There…Dijun is about there in his experiences. As the Crown Prince, he should be heading into battle against one of his kingdom’s many enemies. All mortals suffer injury. I have arranged it so that his greatest injury will lead him to the pain of unrequited love. One of the greatest forms of suffering, and very effective at restoring immortal cultivation…’

With a final warning about refraining from using magic in the mortal realms because of the injuries she would sustain from backlash, Si Ming guided her to where she would find Dijun in the mortal realms.

‘A warrior monk would be a good identity for you, Fengjiu Dianxia,’ Si Ming suggested. ‘No one will think twice if you come and go, or keep to yourself.’

Thus it was that Fengjiu garbed herself in the plain robes of a warrior monk and descended to the mortal realm, to the edge of a field where a brutal battle raged. The clash of metal rang out in a steady beat of clangs and scrapes. Soldiers shouted and snarled and cried out in agonized death throes. Horses stomped and snorted and neighed in agitation amid the crush of violence, some seeking to flee after their riders had been toppled. Fengjiu’s jaw clenched as she caught the stench of blood in the air. Si Ming hadn’t warned her that this would be a massacre.

But, then, for the troops to allow the Crown Prince to sustain a life-threatening wound, it could only make sense that many of them would have died.

From her vantage point among a copse of trees on the field’s edge, Fengjiu finally spied Dijun. As among immortals, he was the tallest of anyone around. But how strange to see him with dark hair! And as a mortal, his face was so much more expressive! Fengjiu could see struggle, fear, rage, determination – so many human feelings painting the canvas of his face.

And then, she recognized the pieces all falling into place.

Dijun’s mortal incarnation staggered under the weight of fatigue and minor injuries…he took several steps back, yielding to the enemy soldier he was fighting. Yet he would have been able to defend himself against this one infantryman. It was another warrior, coming up from the side, just barely in Dijun’s peripheral vision, who Fengjiu recognized as the real threat. For this other one carried a spear.

She gripped a nearby tree branch and clenched her jaw to brace herself for what she had to let happen. Si Ming had made it clear how pivotal this event was.

The stealthy warrior thrust the spear home, just as Dijun finally noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye. But it was too late for him to defend himself, and a terrible cry of deathly anguish tore from his throat. It chilled Fengjiu to see Dijun, the most exalted of all immortals – one who had saved her once with such ease and indifference – so vulnerable to death.

But something seemed wrong. Several warriors were converging on Dijun, swords raised and ready to hack him to bits. How could he survive that to be healed later by the woman he would love but who would not return his love?

This mortal experience would end before he could regain his cultivation.

Impulsively, Fengjiu charged forth with an immortal’s speed. She didn’t need to use any magic to make quick work of the mortal warriors who sought to finish the Crown Prince off. As a goddess, her strength and reflexes were already vastly superior to any mortals. On top of that, though, she was a member of the Bai Clan and her father and mother, aunt and uncles, and grandparents had all spent time teaching her the martial arts.

A dozen mortal warriors lay dead on the ground in a matter of moments.

Fengjiu was about to gather Dijun up and carry him to safety, so that the ragged remainder of his troops could take him to the woman who was destined to heal him, when a wounded soldier approached. He looked high-ranking and bore a nasty gash above his eye.

‘Help me get him to a cart. His Highness needs medical care right away, we must take him back to the city,’ Fengjiu ordered.

The mortal soldier blinked at her in surprise for a moment, as if unaccustomed to being ordered about. However, he sprang into action almost immediately, the reflexes of a consummate warrior. He even smiled at her in deep gratitude and said, ‘We are all in your debt, stranger. I thought the Crown Prince would surely die, for no defenders were near him. I have never seen anyone move as quickly as you do.’

Fengjiu grinned as she and the rugged general carried Dijun’s mortal incarnation to the nearest cart and settled him, bleeding and unconscious, into the back. ‘You wouldn’t. The training at my monastery is more rigorous than most men are capable of. And it is very far from here – few from my order travel to your kingdom.’

Eyes rounded with admiration, the mortal soldier asked, ‘Are you a Taoist warrior?’

It was the cover she had planned with Si Ming. Fengjiu nodded and hummed, ‘Hmm.’

‘Then Heaven must have willed that His Highness, Song Xuanren, would live,’ the mortal soldier declared, his voice exuberant with relief. He bowed respectfully to Fengjiu. ‘Revered one, what is your name?’

‘You may call me Xiao Jiu,’ Fengjiu answered. ‘I’m still just a disciple. And what’s your name?’

‘Just a disciple!’ the mortal soldier marveled as he ordered a cavalryman to begin guiding the horse-drawn cart back to the city. ‘Then the monks of your temple, though few, could likely defeat an entire army. And you may call me Ye Qingti. It was an honor to defend the prince alongside you, Xiao Jiu.’

‘It was good to fight alongside you, as well, Ye Qingti,’ Fengjiu replied with a smile.

This was good. She had already made a friend in the mortal realm, one who was likely close to Dijun’s mortal incarnation, Crown Prince Song Xuanren. She shouldn’t have too much trouble observing Dijun’s experiences during her time here.

They arrived at the Cold Palace on the very margins of the city, right where Si Ming had explained to her Dijun would be nursed back to life by the woman who was destined to break his heart. And, sure enough, Dijun’s mortal body began convulsing, as if on the verge of death.

‘Quickly, there isn’t time to get His Highness back to the palace. Bring him in here and we’ll send for a physician,’ Fengjiu instructed. Although Ye Qingti hesitated at first, the sight of his prince in such acute distress alarmed him enough that he helped Fengjiu carry him into one of the nearest rooms in the Cold Palace.

A pretty young woman hurried over from a nearby hall in the courtyard. Her robes were elegant enough to hint at courtly status, but her face was not made up. Her hands seemed rough, too, as if she had no maids to tend her and had to take care of her own needs. Fengjiu guessed that she was an unwanted or disgraced concubine.

‘It is the Crown Prince himself!’ the young woman gasped.

‘Hurry and boil some water, and fetch some clean cloth to bind his wounds until the Imperial Physician can be summoned,’ Ye Qingti ordered.

The young woman nodded and rushed off without questioning anything. When she returned, Fengjiu noted the smudges of ash on her hands. Yes, this elegant lady had stoked the fire and boiled the water herself. She had once had status but was now abandoned here, alone and forgotten.

‘Who are you, so that we may tell the Crown Prince who came to his aid when he recovers?’ Fengjiu asked her, seeking confirmation that Si Ming’s script was going according to plan.

‘My name is Zhou Mengxi, revered one,’ the young woman answered.

Fengjiu smiled. Yes, Si Ming’s script was going according to plan. Fengjiu would be able to keep to the sidelines and observe from here on out…

Chapter Text

Fengjiu solved the problem of where she would stay during Dijun’s mortal trial by conjuring a sack full of coins and paying for a room at an inn at the edge of the capital, not far from the Cold Palace where Zhou Mengxi was nursing Song Xuanren back to health. Si Ming had told Fengjiu that simple spells, such as creating coins, caused only minor rebounds and Fengjiu indeed discovered that the most she felt was a very brief, slight wave of nausea. Yet she could not make herself too rich – after all, what sort of monk would live in luxury?

So, she chose an austere room at a humble inn with few comforts other than a sturdy bed, a low table and cushions, a small chest to store a few possessions, and an altar where she could burn incense. And since Fengjiu had to maintain the impression that she was a monk, she also ordered only plain food when she bothered to dine at the inn: an occasional bowl of rice or pot of simple, easily digestible soup. It wasn’t hard at all for Fengjiu to maintain such an austere diet in front of the mortals, since she had determined that most mortal food tasted bland to her anyway.

And where she really enjoyed her meals was out in the wilds beyond the city walls.

At night, or before dawn, Fengjiu slipped out of the city, transformed into her nine-tailed fox form, and hunted to her heart’s content. To her fox’s tongue, prey in the mortal realm  was just as tasty as anywhere in Qingqiu. So, she savored the rabbits, squirrels, fish, and pigeons she so easily caught, which allowed her to make the innkeeper or any other mortals believe that she was fasting for two or three days at a time.

It really was like being in one of the more-remote areas of Qingqiu. There were forest glades, river banks, and open fields where Fengjiu could practice her sword skills, as if she were back home drilling with her father, grandfather, or even her Gu Gu who had studied with the God of War, Mo Yuan.

Once, when she had been practicing, the mortal warrior who had assisted her with Song Xuanren, Ye Qingti, happened to be riding by on horseback. He sauntered over to watch her move fluidly through a series of martial forms designed by her grandfather. So impressed was he that he insisted on dismounting and learning the exercises from her.

‘You are sure that you will not be required to report anywhere soon?’ Fengjiu asked. ‘These exercises are strenuous and can take hours to refine.’

With a cavalier shrug, Ye Qingti assured her, ‘I am from a family of soldiers. It does not look too hard.’

Of course it doesn’t look hard, I’ve been practicing for thousands of years, Fengjiu thought silently as she bowed to Ye Qingti and invited him to mirror her movements.

Within half an hour, he was sweating.

And at that point, he had made a half a dozen mistakes.

Ye Qingti’s focus intensified and Fengjiu could tell that he now realized that the appearance of simplicity in her gestures was deceptive. She heard soft gasps of astonishment as he grew more attentive to her fluid yet powerful movements and discovered how complex and difficult they were.

‘I thought I would have time to learn these from you fully, Xiao Jiu,’ Ye Qingti said at last, panting. ‘However, we have worked for three hours, and I must go check on the Crown Prince’s recovery.’

When Ye Qingti bowed deeply to her, showing the respect he might offer a Master, Fengjiu noticed that the wound across his eyebrow hadn’t healed in the two weeks since the battle.

‘Try this,’ she said as she fetched a jar of mufurong paste from her cloak where it lay on the ground. ‘Apply it in the morning and evening and your scar should disappear.’

A few days later, Ye Qingti sought her out at the inn where she was staying. The angry gash had faded considerably.

‘Please come with me to see Crown Prince Song Xuanren,’ the mortal warrior asked. ‘He is still very weak and his healing is slow. You may be able to help him. Your medicine healed my injury even though the physician said nothing could be done for it.’

Fengjiu hesitated. She worried that intervening to heal Dijun’s mortal incarnation too quickly would jeopardize his spiritual recovery, which was the true purpose of his physical injuries. However, refusing to do as Ye Qingti asked might raise suspicions. So, she accompanied him to the Cold Palace, resolved to show Zhou Mengxi how to apply a few beneficial remedies. After all, it had to be Zhou Mengxi who nursed Dijun’s mortal incarnation back to life so that he could fall in love with her.

The summer’s heat and humidity were at their peak, and one of the first things that Fengjiu noticed when Ye Qingti escorted her to Song Xuanren’s bedside was how muggy the air felt in his sick room. He was already sweating, and from his pale skin Fengjiu could tell he was fighting infection, so the muggy air must be making it even harder for his body to heal.

It surprised Ye Qingti when she said she would withdraw to a corner to prepare some incense to dehumidify the room, but Fengjiu insisted that Zhou Mengxi be the one to apply any remedies directly. ‘Sometimes, the shock of a different person in the patient’s environment, when they have been weak or delirious, can set their healing back,’ Fengjiu declared.

It was a load of hogwash, but Ye Qingti seemed willing to believe it.

Zhou Mengxi seemed like an earnest, well-meaning young woman, but how Si Ming could have expected her to play such a pivotal role in Dijun’s mortal trial was beyond Fengjiu’s understanding.

Honestly….since when did concubines possess enough medical knowledge to treat life-threatening injuries that, by all rights, should require surgery?

And Si Ming expected this poor, cast-off woman to save Song Xuanren’s life?

While Dijun’s mortal incarnation slept fitfully, shivering and sweating, Fengjiu blended some incense according to a recipe that Zhe Yan had taught her. She lit it in her corner and the air instantly felt more soothing. Then, she sat and observed Zhou Mengxi for a while.

The young woman was incredibly attentive to Song Xuanren. Although clearly unschooled in medical matters, she at least knew to press a damp, cool cloth to his forehead. It looked like the Imperial physician had left behind various potions as well, which Fengjiu assumed Zhou Mengxi had been administering, but it was clear that the remedies were having only minimal effect. What if…what if Dijun didn’t recover?

‘That incense spreads a feeling of…hope,’ Zhou Mengxi spoke softly from across the room.

Fengjiu had been so lost in her own thoughts that the concubine’s voice startled her, but she recovered quickly. ‘It is only incense. I hope it may be in service of His Highness’s recovery,’ she said, adopting the humility of a monk. Then, a bit curious as to Zhou Mengxi’s feelings, Fengjiu prodded, ‘Do you worry for the Crown Prince?’

A sad, troubled expression flitted across Zhou Mengxi’s face, although it resolved itself into a polite smile. ‘The Crown Prince is under my care. It is a great opportunity for a concubine who has lived in exile from the court.’

Fengjiu heard the harsh, unspoken truth.

If Song Xuanren did not survive, Zhou Mengxi’s life would be forfeit.

Perhaps she could interfere just a teensy bit.

Fengjiu approached the bedside and pulled up a stool. Zhou Mengxi scooted back slightly, sighing with relief as she watched Fengjiu reach for the Crown Prince’s wrist. Mortals naturally had weaker pulses than immortals – their qi was far less robust – but Song Xuanren’s seemed especially erratic and weak. His skin practically burned. Unabashed, Fengjiu began undoing his robes.

Zhou Mengxi turned aside, as if she had no right to look on the Crown Prince at all, let alone at his naked, wounded side. Fengjiu reminded herself that she was pretending to be a male warrior-monk, and tempered her reaction to Song Xuanren’s handsome physique – so finely sculpted that, even when prostrate and sickly, he set her chest fluttering.

Was….this…what Dijun looked like naked?

Fengjiu felt a blush rising to her cheeks and she quickly focused on his inflamed, reddish-purple wound to dispel any inappropriate thoughts she might have. If the mortal, imperial physician had any skill at all, he must have been careless and haphazard in treating Song Xuanren, for this wound was so badly infected it would soon kill Dijun’s mortal incarnation. How could Si Ming have permitted—

Oh!

The abrupt insight hit Fengjiu so forcefully, it nearly left her ears ringing.

This must be why Zhe Yan had insisted that Fengjiu observe Dijun’s mortal trial. Her uncle-by-marriage must have seen that something was amiss.

‘His wound needs detoxifying,’ Fengjiu declared. Shifting her gaze from the oozing gash to Zhou Mengxi, Fengjiu instructed, ‘Go prepare boiling water to clean and bandage his wound when I am finished. Ye Qingti is waiting outside. Send him to the imperial apothecary for this powder—’ Fengjiu handed Zhou Menxi a slip of paper withdrawn from her sleeve, on which she had magically inscribed a recipe, ‘—and return to me with the boiling water and some clean cloth. I will use a method known by the monks at my temple to withdraw the poison from His Highness’s wound.’

Zhou Mengxi’s eyes glimmered with gratitude and she couldn’t hurry out of the room quickly enough. Fengjiu understood that in saving Song Xuanren’s life, she would actually be saving two lives.

When the concubine had left the room, Fengjiu rolled up her sleeves, pressed her hands together in silent meditation for a few moments, and prepared to employ one of the most-advanced healing techniques Zhe Yan had ever taught her. It was the same technique that he had used on Dijun so recently in Tai Chen Palace, yet Fengjiu was no phoenix, so her capability would be far less than Zhe Yan’s.

Reaching deep into her spirit and centering her mind, Fengjiu opened her eyes, held her hand over Song Xuanren’s wound, and gently bathed it with some of her own cultivation. She braced herself for the backfires, which she expected would be intense.

And they were.

It felt as if her insides were being ripped out.

Fengjiu could stand it only for a few moments more. When she felt dizzy and cramped all over, and the pain in her gut was like a spear lodged in her innards, Fengjiu let the flow of cultivation stop. It would have been utterly painless – even a bit warm and pleasant – if they had been in the immortal realms. But this was such powerful magic that the backfires in the mortal realm were excruciating. Before she had a chance to soothe herself with a tonic, Fengjiu doubled over and spit blood on the floor.

Thank the stars that Zhou Mengxi was gone. It gave Fengjiu a few moments to engage in some regulated breathing and soothe the searing agony in her body. When she could finally manage it, she quickly wiped the blood away from the floor and her own mouth. Then, she looked at Song Xuanren’s wound.

To her relief, the infection had been completely abated. All that was needed now was to keep the wound clean and let it heal.

Fengjiu took a deep breath. Then another. In her mind, she heard her uncles Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen teaching her how to cultivate when she had reached 16,000 years old. The memory eased her suffering and guided her in drawing in the restorative breaths that would help her recover from such damaging backfires.

And in her injured state, she allowed herself to study Song Xuanren and recall her childish infatuation with Dong Hua Dijun. She smiled at how she had been back then. Her obsession had begun in school, when she had been such a young kit and learned that the commander her grandfather had reminisced so fondly about was famous throughout the realms for his achievements in battle. Everything she read about him in the histories had excited and inspired her. His resilience in the face of defeat. His cleverness in overcoming each defeat and turning it into one victory after another. His brilliance at military strategy.

A soft laugh slipped from Fengjiu’s lips as she remembered how she once wondered if she had come to admire Dijun because her grandfather did.

But Zhe Yan had picked up on her growing infatuation and cautioned her about Dijun’s transcendance and indifference to worldly things like love. Fengjiu grinned as she thought back to the scandalous stories her uncle-by-marriage had tol her about all the demonesses and goddesses Dijun had tossed out of his bed without so much as a glance at them. And her eyes simmered with deep affection as she reflected on Zhe Yan’s advice:

‘Be careful of your fox’s heart, Xiao Jiu. It is a treasure that only the most-worthy of suitors could deserve. And that worthiness is measured in their ability to love you as much as you love them. Don’t bestow your heart on one who is unmoved by love.’

Fengjiu knew that her younger self would have squealed at the chance to be where she was now, sitting at the bedside of Dijun’s mortal incarnation, with his life in her hands.

And she couldn’t deny that she felt a few of those familiar butterflies darting in her chest. She even let herself caress his cheek while she patted the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

It was just that Zhe Yan was such a good healer that he had managed to spare her from the self-inflicted wound of chasing after a god who had shown a thousand times over that he responded to no one in that way. Dijun’s love was collective and universal – nobly directed toward the welfare of the realms as a whole – and not given to any one person in particular.

Except when he was undergoing a mortal trial and Si Ming had written it…

When Zhou Mengxi returned with the boiling water and cloth, Fengjiu shifted herself to the stool at the foot of Song Xuanren’s bed, ceding the place of primary caregiver to the destined love of Dijun’s mortal incarnation. Fengjiu knew a little about this woman, having read the scroll that Si Ming had written, but she couldn’t help being a little curious about some of the details.

‘It was the Crown Prince’s good fortune that you were here at the edge of the city to care for him in his hour of need,’ Fengjiu remarked as she watched Zhou Mengxi delicately undo Song Xuanren’s robes and wash the wound with purified water. ‘How did you come to live in this palace?’

Marveling at the sight of a much-improved wound, Zhou Mengxi turned her amazed eyes to Fengjiu and said, ‘It was far more fortunate that you were at hand, Venerable One. His Highness is nearly healed!’ Yet, when she answered Fengjiu’s question, the light faded from her eyes and she bowed her head to focus on tending Song Xuanren once more. ‘As for why I live in the Cold Palace, how could His Majesty the King be so wasteful as to build a palace that would sit unused. Someone must live in this palace; why shouldn’t it be me? The King has been merciful enough to spare my life and shield me from any further rumors.’

Fengjiu remained silent but understood much from Zhou Mengxi’s reply. So, there had been rumors. Whether based in fact or lies circulated by a rival, the rumors – most likely of alleged infidelity – had stained Zhou Mengxi’s reputation. And a concubine lived or died by her reputation.

‘The King spared your life,’ Fengjiu intoned, mimicking the solemn voice of the teacher she had had for Buddhist theories. ‘You saved the life of the King’s son. Fate has settled your accounts.’

Zhou Mengxi shook her head as she dressed Song Xuanren’s wound with pristine white cloth and did up his robes once again. ‘Venerable One, I know how foul and poisoned the Crown Prince’s wound was. It was not I, but you, who purified it.’

Drat, why does Dijun’s intended mortal love have to be so humble? Fengjiu grumbled silently to herself.

Focusing her mind on the serene, indifferent expression that Dijun himself often wore – even though she was hungry and wanted nothing more than to go hunting – Fengjiu replied, ‘What little I did was taught to me by others. Who, then, deserves the credit? You have accompanied the Crown Prince all this time. When he awakens, it is you he will see.’

And with that reminder that she was already risking too much disruption to Dijun’s mortal trial, Fengjiu rose, fetched her cloak, and bowed politely to Zhou Mengxi to take her leave. To her surprise, Zhou Mengxi rose from her seat and stepped impulsively toward Fengjiu, even going so far as to clutch at Fengjiu’s wrist.

‘Do you have to go so soon?’ Zhou Mengxi pleaded breathlessly. Her eyes were riveted to Fengjiu’s.

Uh oh. Oh. Oh dear….

Delicately, Fengjiu pried her wrist free of Zhou Mengxi’s grip as she took a step back. ‘My work here is done. I am a disciple of….uhh…Kunlun Temple, and I must go and meditate.’

Without giving the mortal concubine a chance to protest, Fengjiu quickly withdrew from Song Xuanren’s sick room. She’d hoped to slip away to the woods and hunt at least a dozen rabbits. Healing Song Xuanren with her own cultivation had left her starving!

But she ran into Ye Qingti, who had returned from the apothecary with the medicine that Fengjiu had requested, and when Fengjiu mentioned that she was returning to her inn to temper his hunger with a simple bowl of rice, Ye Qingti wouldn’t hear of it.

‘You must let me treat you to a meal. Come with me to the barracks – let me repay the debt we all owe you for having saved the Crown Prince that day on the battlefield.’

Chapter Text

Fengjiu continued to build her reputation as an enlightened, spiritual disciple by…..well, by drinking. More precisely, by drinking with Ye Qingti and other soldiers at the barracks but showing no signs of inebriation.

It wasn’t difficult to do. Fengjiu had discovered with her first sip that wine in the mortal realms was as weak as water. She imagined that the wine she was used to in Qingqiu would make mortals hallucinate, slip into a century-long coma, or possibly worse. So, as much as she wished she could partake of the hearty laughter and drunken camaraderie, Fengjiu wasn’t tipsy in the slightest, and chose to cultivate her image as a monk by smiling serenely and sitting upright.

While several of the soldiers leaned sideways until they fell over.

‘Sh…ssshhh….Xiao Jiu….is admirable-y….composed,’ one soldier said as he raised his cup in salute before gulping down its contents and falling face-forward on the table.

‘They just received their pay yesterday,’ Ye Qingti explained, his expression somewhat apologetic. ‘And some of them are new, recruited after the battle that nearly killed the Crown Prince to replenish our numbers.’

‘I am sure that Ye Qingti will drill them into disciplined warriors,’ Fengjiu replied, allowing him to save face.

‘It will take time, with these ones,’ Ye Qingti sighed, nearly sober and clearly far more able to handle his liquor than the soldiers he commanded.

Fengjiu nodded politely, her calm demeanor like that of a Buddha. ‘It is the same with new disciples at the temple.’

‘If you were to help me teach them some of your drills, they would become the best troops ever to serve the King,’ Ye Qingti declared, looking at her hopefully.

Nearly choking on the sip of wine she’d just taken, Fengjiu lost her carefully cultivated composure. ‘Are you joking?’ she squeaked.

Ye Qingti’s eyebrows rose and, a moment later, he laughed heartily, ‘So you’re human after all, just like the rest of us!’

Fengjiu grimaced at her own lack of self-control, then cracked a grin. Seizing on that, Ye Qingti beamed, poured both of them new cups of wine, and held his up to offer a toast.

‘You may continue living where you wish, you may leave when it is time for you to return to your temple. Just say that you’ll help train these men – the kingdom’s enemies have been waiting for a moment like this, when our forces are weak,’ Ye Qingti urged.

Resuming her persona as a warrior-monk, Fengjiu cast him the kind of resigned, impatient look that her father sometimes gave her, gave a single, silent nod, and then sipped her wine.

It would give her access to the palace, which would enable her to follow Dijun’s mortal trial more easily.

***

It was another week before Fengjiu’s promised involvement in training Ye Qingti’s new recruits bore fruit.

She backed to the side of the path, along with all others, when a herald announced the arrival of the Crown Prince’s open-air palanquin. He was carried by a dozen servants. And he wasn’t alone.

Zhou Mengxi sat beside him, arrayed in finer robes than she had worn in the Cold Palace, with three, exquisite, gold hairpins in her hair – one of them, a phoenix. A symbol associated with brides in this particular realm. And she looked miserable.

Until the palanquin passed by Fengjiu and Zhou Mengxi’s eyes lit up at the sight of the serene, warrior-monk bowing on the sidelines with other, ordinary people.

That poor mortal, Fengjiu sighed inwardly. And poor me.

Fengjiu couldn’t tell if Si Ming had written this after she had appeared in Dijun’s mortal trial, or if his fated misery had been a love triangle all along and Fengjiu had arrived right at the moment that a rival was needed. But she was no fool. She could see how a role for her was practically writing itself in Dijun’s script.

It was as clear to her as the besotted smile on Song Xuanren’s face when he gazed at Zhou Mengxi.

Thankfully, Fengjiu had a reason to stay away from the areas where Song Xuanren might spend time with his favored concubine. She did her best to keep to the sparring yard and barracks, or to the capital city outside the palace walls. When Fengjiu did want to observe how Dijun’s mortal trial was going, she watched discreetly from a distance or listened to the servants gossiping.

What she was unprepared for was how persistent and resourceful Zhou Mengxi could be in her efforts to make contact with the warrior-monk who had saved the Crown Prince and, somehow, caught the fancy of an unhappy concubine. But Fengjiu kicked herself for not appreciating just how good Si Ming was at crafting mortal destinies. Of course, Zhou Mengxi would be resourceful.

She sent a gift of expensive incense to Monk Jiu, with a note thanking him for his assistance in restoring the Crown Prince’s health. Zhou Mengxi added that she hoped to have the chance to thank him in person. Fengjiu sent it back, humbly insisting that it was the Will of Heaven that spared the Crown Prince’s life, and it would be better for Zhou Mengxi to light the incense in thanks to the gods.

Fengjiu had a brief respite when, with a suddenness that could only be due to Si Ming’s brush, the old Emperor died and Song Xuanren was elevated to the imperial throne, himself. It was expected that Zhou Mengxi would accompany Song Xuanren in his mourning and official rituals.

Then, Fengjiu heard through Ye Qingti that the newly enthroned Emperor Song Xuanren would be inspecting the troops and would be bringing Mengxi Furen with him. Fengjiu took advantage of Ye Qingti’s earlier promise to her to leave the palace that day, excusing herself by saying she needed to withdraw to a glade in the woods to meditate on spiritual matters.

Spiritual matters that involved a few, choice curses at her Uncle Zhe Yan for convincing her to observe Dijun’s mortal trial.

But things got worse.

Fengjiu caught snippets of gossip about Mengxi Furen drinking heavily while she sat out admiring the moon, which made the Emperor irritable. Or Mengxi Furen going for rides outside the palace without the Emperor which made him even grumpier. Song Xuanren, it was said, was snapping at everyone now – even his trusted Chief Eunuch and General Ye Qingti. The Emperor placed demands on Ye Qingti that left him in a quandary.

‘His Majesty has commanded me to design mechanisms to safeguard a treasure, but this kind of engineering is beyond my knowledge,’ Ye Qingti lamented one evening over the simple dinner that he had taken to sharing with Fengjiu, treating her as a friend and trusted confidant.

‘Why are the mechanisms needed? Is the treasure not guarded?’ Fengjiu asked, pouring a cup of tea for the mortal general she had indeed come to value as a friend, even though, as a mortal, his life would be so fleeting.

‘Those who have been trying to steal it are too cunning,’ Ye Qingti muttered, accepting the cup and blowing on the hot tea. ‘At least once, their attempt nearly succeeded.’

Fengjiu sighed and sipped her own tea, quietly thinking that mortals created many of their own problems. To her, the solution was obvious: put a decoy where the true treasure had been, move the true treasure somewhere safer, and use the decoy to flush out the would-be thieves. But, she was not here to intervene in the quarrels between two mortal kingdoms; she was here to observe how experiencing the suffering of mortal existence could replenish an immortal’s cultivation. So, she offered one, small suggestion for a trigger to lower a trap around an intruder – a simple device that was child’s play to Fengjiu, who had been hunting prey all her life – and returned to her quiet room at the inn that evening.

The next day, however, Fengjiu found herself drawn into Ye Qingti’s assigned task – and far closer into Emperor Song Xuanren’s orbit than she intended.

She had avoided entangling with Dijun’s mortal incarnation until this point, having gone so far as to urge Ye Qingti to say nothing of her role in saving Song Xuanren from death on the battlefield  so that the Crown Prince would not seek her out when he rewarded others for aiding Chengyu in its victory over Chong’an. She had done her best to elude Zhou Mengxi’s attentions.

But when she was demonstrating a technique for disarming an opponent during morning exercises at the barracks, the Emperor’s Chief Eunuch arrived and summoned Ye Qingti to the Emperor’s study. Not half an hour later, the Chief Eunuch returned with a command that the monk who had been aiding General Ye, the one known as Xiao Jiu, should present himself before the Emperor. Fengjiu briefly racked her brain for a way to get out of this meeting but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t raise suspicions, or cause trouble for her mortal friend, Qingti. So, she followed the Chief Eunuch and found herself standing before Song Xuanren, who sat behind a broad desk on an elevated platform. Ye Qingti offered her a nod and discreet smile of thanks.

‘Qingti tells me that you are a monk who fought in the battle against the invaders from Chong’an and that you have been training my troops in martial arts,’ Song Xuanren stated as he scrutinized her appearance.

It was the first time that Fengjiu had been this close to Dijun’s mortal incarnation since healing him. No longer pale and feverish, Song Xuanren struck her as full of life – alert, observant, and earnest. He seemed almost too elegant to be commanding, yet Fengjiu could sense the dormant, immortal power beneath the surface. His radiance was too great to suppress fully. It left wondering how hard Si Ming had to work to make Zhou Mengxi find Song Xuanren unattractive.

‘That is so, Your Majesty,’ Fengjiu acknowledged with a deep bow, leaning into the simplicity and humility of a monk.

‘I do not remember you volunteering for that battle,’ Song Xuanren continued, his expression lordly and guarded. Fengjiu could tell he was trying to gauge her trustworthiness.

‘Your Majesty, I had been meditating nearby and entered the battle only on impulse,’ Fengjiu answered, meeting his gaze calmly while remaining partly bowed.

‘What was this impulse? What made you enter the fray?’ Song Xuanren pressed.

‘Your Majesty, may I speak?’ Ye Qingti asked. At Song Xuanren’s nod, the general explained, ‘Xiao Jiu appeared just after you took the spear to your side. He killed a dozen enemy soldiers in the blink of an eye. This was how I was able to get you to safety.’

The rapid shift in Song Xuanren’s demeanor was breathtaking. His eyes lit up and his wary expression opened up to astonished gratitude. ‘What is this, Qingti? This monk helped save my life? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?’

To spare her friend Qingti from any criticism, Fengjiu explained, ‘Your Majesty, I asked Ye Qingti to say nothing. I did not want to call attention to myself.’

‘But you did not give me the opportunity to reward you,’ Song Xuanren overruled her attempt at humility. ‘Unknowingly, I would have remained in your debt.’

It hardly surprised Fengjiu that Dijun’s mortal incarnation was virtuous, high-minded – and a stickler for doing things properly. And so, to her chagrin, found herself compelled to accept Song Xuanren’s demonstrations of gratitude, although she did manage to limit him to providing her with private quarters in the palace near the barracks.

‘This way, you can work more closely with Ye Qingti,’ Song Xuanren said. ‘And that is why I summoned you here. He has told me you have insights on how to safeguard the kingdom’s most-valued treasure….’

Chapter Text

‘She refused his gifts again.’

Fengjiu paused at Qingti’s outstretched arm and they both watched Song Xuanren cross their path, many paces ahead, his face somber and withdrawn as his Chief Eunuch and servants followed him. The Chief Eunuch spied them out of the corner of his eyes and flashed Qingti and Fengjiu a miserable, hopeless glance before continuing after the mortal Emperor. When the entourage had passed, Fengjiu and Qingti continued along the vermillion, covered walkway.

‘She claimed it was because she could not bring herself to accept jewelry when victims of flooding in the provinces had lost their homes,’ Qingti added.

They no longer needed to mention Zhou Mengxi’s name. Like everyone else in the palace who whispered about the Emperor’s heartbreak, Fengjiu and Qingti knew who “she” was.

Fengjiu nodded and offered a sympathetic, ‘hmm,’ while she and Qingti exchanged silent grief for the unhappy monarch.

It was turning out to be a very instructive experience for Fengjiu. Although she’d had some uncomfortable moments – largely involving Zhou Mengxi’s ongoing infatuation with her – Fengjiu had begun to see what Zhe Yan had wanted her to see. Song Xuanren’s misery was palpable; Fengjiu even imagined that if she felt his wrist, his pulse would shake with sobs. And she could also sense the slow but steady restoration of Dijun’s cultivation. No mortal had the ability to measure that, but Zhe Yan had taught Fengjiu how to get at least a loose sense of an immortal’s vital qi, since this was a key element of overall health.

‘It will be good if we can distract His Majesty with a breakthrough on the construction of the mechanisms to guard the treasure,’ Fengjiu suggested.

Qingti nodded and clapped Fengjiu heartily on the back. ‘We think the same way, my brother. The recruits have been practicing hard, anyway. Let’s give them a day off and finish the final stage of the paving-stone mechanisms.’

Fengjiu reciprocated Qingti’s pat on the back and they went to work on the various traps that were to be installed in a tomb where the kingdom’s treasure was hidden. It was a state secret, so tightly guarded that Fengjiu still didn’t know what this treasure was. And she didn’t terribly care to know, either. She was only here to observe Dijun’s mortal trial.

Unexpectedly, two days later, fate – or, perhaps, Si Ming – provided a distraction from Zhou Mengxi. Chengyu’s arch-enemy, the kingdom of Chong’an, made a peace overture that included sending a new concubine to Emperor Song Xuanren. Although Qingti was responsible for security during the beauty’s arrival in Chengyu, Fengjiu was able to watch from the sidelines. When the concubine stepped out of her carriage with her maid, Fengjiu noticed something disturbing about both of them: like Dijun, they had faint auras of immortal power, although theirs was demonic.

Did demons have their own Si Ming, who wrote mortal trials for them when they were injured?

Or…were they here to cause trouble?

Fengjiu sent word to Si Ming as soon as she could. Dijun was undergoing this mortal trial for spiritual recovery. If these two demons were here to harm Dijun while he was vulnerable, it could be disastrous.

Si Ming appeared the day after her summons, which meant that he had come immediately upon receiving it. As the Lord of Mortal Destinies, he was able to use magic to a far greater degree than Fengjiu could without suffering backfires. So, it took him only a short time to investigate Lady Chu Wan’s actions, and those of her maid Ling Xiang, to make some alarming discoveries.

‘Lady Chu Wan is, in fact, the Red Demon Princess Ji Heng, who was about to marry Dijun when she ran away. Yet, she has not once spoken as Ji Heng in private with her maid. She seems to have no understanding of who she is. And yet, she is far from innocent,’ Si Ming warned Fengjiu as they walked in the woods outside the capital city.

‘What do you mean?’ Fengjiu asked.

Their path was leading toward the grand tomb that had been built for the dynasty’s previous emperors. Si Ming nodded to the first glimpse of grey stone that could be seen through the trees and explained, ‘Immersed as she is in her mortal identity, Ji Heng is scheming to steal the national treasure of this kingdom. If she succeeds, it would be a national humiliation for Chengyu and quite likely lead to Song Xuanren’s downfall.’

‘And you didn’t write this?’ Fengjiu checked, since it seemed like just the kind of misfortune that would be the perfect, bitter conclusion to Dijun’s mortal trial. To lose the throne as an incapable ruler would surely cause the kind of suffering that would boost Dijun’s spiritual cultivation, Fengjiu thought.

Si Ming smiled but shook his head. ‘I might be tempted to think that, if I did not know what I had written in this script. But all I wrote was that Song Xuanren’s elder, half-brother would plot against him, and that the kingdom of Chong’an would continually seek to destabilize Chengyu.’

‘Then, maybe Lady Chu Wan has orders from Chong’an to steal the national treasure. To have been here barely a day and already scheming to steal something like that, she would have to be here on a mission,’ Fengjiu deduced as they emerged from the woods and regarded the fortress-like Emperors’ tomb.

‘It is quite possible that Ji Heng simply got entangled in one of Chong’an’s plots against Chengyu,’ Si Ming agreed, nodding, ‘And that she is merely following the life of a mortal concubine, rather than acting on behalf of the Red Demons. After all, her brother, Red Demon Lord Xu Yang, has been seeking to improve relations with Heaven Kingdom. He lost face when Ji Heng broke the marriage contract. He would not send her here to cause greater trouble. But I will pay close attention to her actions. You should, too.’

Fengjiu nodded and was about to bid Si Ming farewell when he leaned close and confided, ‘In truth, I wrote the concubine from Chong’an to be an unsuccessful love rival, to accentuate Song Xuanren’s heartache over Zhou Mengxi. Now, it seems, Chong’an wishes to use her as a Beauty Trap. Scripts do sometimes have a mind of their own.’

The elder immortal sighed and shook his head. However, his words gave Fengjiu a mischievous inspiration.

‘Could I help out a bit with stirring up a little jealousy?’ Fengjiu suggested.

Si Ming smiled at her enthusiasm, but there was sadness in his eyes. ‘Xiao Dianxia, you are more than welcome, but it is not possible to provoke any jealousy in Zhou Mengxi. At most, you will raise Song Xuanren’s hopes, only for them to be crushed. Of course, that is a good thing for Dijun.’

Si Ming phased back to Heaven Kingdom and it was now Fengjiu who was left sighing. She understood Si Ming’s advice; unless he changed the script, Zhou Mengxi would never compete with anyone for Song Xuanren’s affections, because she did not love him. By design. But if Fengjiu’s efforts could strengthen Dijun’s healing, it would be worthwhile in the end, even if there was nothing to help Song Xuanren’s heartsickness. She just…wanted to try.

So, she made good use of a skill she had developed in her younger days when she had wanted to prank one of her schoolmates: forging someone else’s handwriting.

Every afternoon, Song Xuanren accompanied Zhou Mengxi on a walk through the palace gardens in the hope that his persistent affection would win her over. It was a routine known to everyone – every official, every servant, every soldier. In Zhou Mengxi’s handwriting, Fengjiu simply wrote a note to Dijun’s mortal incarnation saying that she was feeling under the weather and suggesting that he take his new concubine, Lady Chu Wan of Chong’an, on a walk in her stead. Given Zhou Mengxi’s multiple efforts to distance herself from the infatuated Emperor, it was believable.

Then, she arranged for Zhou Mengxi to be delayed in arriving for the regularly scheduled walk, so that she would follow behind the Emperor and Lady Chu Wan and see them laughing and smiling. Fengjiu did understand that Si Ming had written Zhou Mengxi’s script so that she would not love Song Xuanren. She did. But perhaps it was her nine-tailed fox’s heart, or her growing sympathy for mortals as she spent more time here among them, that made Fengjiu stubbornly hope that seeing Song Xuanren happy with someone else would stir at least some feeling in Zhou Mengxi. Even if it was only disappointment at being left out…

Any response at all.

Anything that might prompt her to show Song Xuanren at least some feeling.

But from her vantage point behind a thicket of bushes, what Fengjiu saw in Zhou Mengxi’s expression was relief, relief so bone-deep that Zhou Mengxi trembled.

Zhe Yan is right, Fengjiu thought, I’m a soft-hearted healer. I want to give the patient a sweet with their bitter medicine. But Dijun’s mortal incarnation is not the only one suffering bitterness.

As hard as it was to watch the relationship between Song Xuanren and Zhou Mengxi fester so miserably, Fengjiu accepted that no interference on her part could alter the mortal Emperor’s fate. In this realm, Si Ming was really powerful!

What else could Fengjiu do but admit defeat?

And continue helping Qingti with the mechanisms that Song Xuanren had ordered him to construct. She had no idea what fate Si Ming had planned for her mortal friend, so perhaps she could help him achieve a little recognition before things turned for the worse with Song Xuanren’s fate.

So, she trained the soldiers with Qingti and then drank with him in the evenings.

She drafted designs for mechanisms and helped Qingti see them built by artisans. And then went riding outside the city with him on patrol.

She sat with him high on a mountain peak one afternoon and talked about life and hopes – the most mortal experience she’d had yet.

‘Had you ever been with a woman before you entered your monastery?’ Qingti asked her as they shared a flask of liquor that was slightly stronger than most of the weak spirits she’d had in the mortal realm.

Fengjiu nearly choked but managed to swallow down her mouthful while Qingti laughed heartily at her. ‘You’re that shy? Then you must not have!’ Qingti teased, patting her roughly on the back like the male comrade he believed her to be.

She did her best to mimic the detached, indifferent hint of a smile that Dijun seemed to wear permanently on his face. ‘I have been with no one. The things of this world are fleeting,’ Fengjiu said.

Qingti’s expression pinched up with playful mockery. ‘Huh! Monk!’ he huffed.

Fengjiu pretended to ignore him and adopted a meditative pose, her eyes half shut. Qingti sighed and took another swig from their shared flask.

‘What about you?’ she turned the question around on him. ‘Is there a lady you fancy? Will General Ye soon continue his family line?’

‘It’s expected of me,’ Qingti sighed, staring out over the valley below. ‘My family has risen through service to the throne and there are many fathers who have offered their daughters to me. But I don’t feel ready to give up this life yet. Defending the kingdom on the battlefield? Drinking with a good friend? Views like this?’

They shared a laugh together and, in that moment, Fengjiu understood that Qingti valued her friendship as much as she valued his. She hadn’t expected to make such a good friend when she had entered Dijun’s mortal trial. It would be hard to see Qingti age and die.

Nor had she expected that her deepening friendship with Qingti would play a role in Dijun’s mortal miseries, yet she began to perceive that this was happening.

Song Xuanren remained ever hopeful that Zhou Mengxi would respond to him, yet her indifference took its toll. Once a month…then once a week…then one or two nights a week, Song Xuanren would invite her and Qingti to dine with him, seemingly to receive updates on the completion of the mechanisms for guarding Chengyu’s national treasure. But Fengjiu noticed how Song Xuanren laughed with them after a few pots of wine – heartily, yet wistfully.

Like an outsider.

Like an Emperor who had everything at his command….yet who might have traded it for just one, genuine friendship.

‘Xiao Jiu, tell His Majesty about the time that you pinned a dragonfly to the rabbit you shot while hunting on horseback,’ Qingti urged her as Song Xuanren listened raptly while the three of them sat around a table.

The mortal Emperor applauded her skill enthusiastically, a smile reaching his gleaming eyes for the first time in weeks.

‘Qingti, share the story of your first fight, when you were nine – the one with that drunken boatman,’ Fengjiu insisted. It had made her laugh out loud the first time Qingti had told it to her, and sure enough, Song Xuanren was soon howling at the tale of young Qingti’s antics – and the foolishness of the boatman who had underestimated a boy’s skill.

When the moon was high in the sky and it was well past time for all of them to retire for the evening, Fengjiu and Qingti bid the Emperor good night—

--and Fengjiu saw the delight fade from his eyes. A lonely weariness set in instead, and it was only then that she realized that this had been Song Xuanren’s expression for a long time. His heart had slowly been breaking, right before her eyes, but Fengjiu had simply grown accustomed to it.

‘Your Majesty, shall I give you a tour of the mechanisms tomorrow? They should be finished by mid-afternoon,’ Qingti offered as they were leaving.

The weight of rule pressed down on Song Xuanren’s shoulders, but he nodded and praised Qingti as a good ruler should. ‘You are ahead of schedule. Qingti, I’m glad you’ve found someone capable of matching your appetite for work…and such a good friend.’

Her mortal friend grinned humbly and bowed his head, but even that gesture of respect seemed to sadden the Emperor.

It reinforces how alone the Emperor is, Fengjiu realized. Everyone bows to him.

Fengjiu was even more startled, though, by the look that Song Xuanren gave her. It blended admiration and envy and rivalry and yearning with an intensity she hadn’t expected. For a panicked moment, she wondered if Zhou Mengxi had done something foolish, like confessing her infatuation for the warrior monk.

But as he stared at Fengjiu, Song Xuanren just said, ‘The truest treasure there ever was is a good friend. And that needs no fortress, no mechanisms, to safeguard it – only noble hearts.’

Fengjiu’s heart clenched in sympathy. Si Ming was good….brutally good.

Chapter Text

‘Xiao Jiu…how are you doing this…???’

Any answer that Fengjiu might have offered her friend Qingti caught in her throat as she stared in shock at the jade glow that illuminated his face. Emperor Song Xuanren, too, was dumbstruck at the emerald brilliance radiating from the stone shard on the altar – triggered by the light touch of Fengjiu’s fingertip. Instinctively, she jerked her hand away from the Lingbi Stone, Chengyu’s national treasure.

Her mind scrambled for a way to explain it to the two mortal men. She couldn’t share her true thoughts. Although she had recognized this as an immortal relic of some sort, to tell them that it was reacting to her fairy power would force her to leave Dijun’s mortal trial at once. Fengjiu had already been treading lightly since the incident in the woods five days ago, when Qingti had happened upon her cultivating. He had caught her by surprise when she had been so focused that some of her immortal power had shone through. To preserve her disguise, Fengjiu had had to spout nonsense about monks emitting such an aura during meditation when they attained a certain level of enlightenment. But could she get away with using that phoney explanation again?

Thankfully, Qingti had believed her deeply enough the first time that he blurted out, ‘Is this also a result of your sanctity as a monk?’

Forcing herself to conceal how flustered she felt, Fengjiu tilted her head thoughtfully and acknowledged, ‘I am unfamiliar with this stone and know nothing of its mystical properties. In my humble view, because I have failed to ever provoke such a response from any other stone in my life, this has more to do with the Lingbi Stone’s power than with me.’

‘Aside from me, the stone has lit up for no one,’ Song Xuanren murmured, clearly astonished.

‘Your Majesty…how many other people have been permitted near the Lingbi Stone?’ Fengjiu pointed out.

This gave the Emperor pause. He blinked a few times, then conceded, ‘None. You and Qingti are the only ones I have trusted this far. I finally allowed you to enter so you could help me install the mechanisms.’

‘It is a great honor, indeed,’ Fengjiu acknowledged as she and Qingti bowed respectfully. ‘Under such circumstances, it seems difficult to fathom the full mysteries of the Lingbi Stone.’

At this, they all agreed to let the matter rest, and returned to their final inspection of the many security mechanisms that Fengjiu and Qingti had installed in the underground passageways and chambers. Qingti seemed determined to hold his good friend Xiao Jiu in esteem that bordered on reverence. Though he spoke with her casually, as they always did with one another, Qingti peppered her with questions about her life as a monk and why she had chosen the spiritual path. It was easy enough for her to answer by pilfering details from her Gu Gu’s experience at Kunlun. What was harder, though, was seeing Song Xuanren withdraw into himself while she and Qingti conversed as easily as brothers during their walk to the next chamber.

It pained her to see anyone so alone. Life in the Bai Clan had always been so boisterous and close-knit. Surely, Dijun’s mortal incarnation didn’t need to be miserable every waking moment for the mortal trial to restore his cultivation, did he?

‘Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence, but may I ask – what hopes did you have for your life before you were appointed Crown Prince?’ Fengjiu redirected the conversation to draw him into it. Qingti tensed warily and his glance darted between Fengjiu and Song Xuanren, as if thinking quickly for an excuse he could make for his friend’s impulse to pry into the Emperor’s childhood.

But Song Xuanren smiled guardedly, in the wistful manner of all people whose carefree days are long behind them. ‘I had not expected to be the Crown Prince at all. My brother is the elder, so I thought the throne would come to him,’ Song Xuanren remembered while he adjusted a tripwire. ‘And my father did not seem to like me at all – he always avoided me. That is how I took an interest in designing mechanisms. I thought I might remain a prince of the Empire, designing technologies and plans for canals and roads that would help my brother build Chengyu into a great, prosperous land. I dreamed of marrying the woman I loved and building my life around her, the way my father had built his life around my mother before she died. But…things worked out differently…’

Fengjiu’s heart twinged as she listened to the sad tale of Song Xuanren’s youth. She’d arrived in his mortal trial later, so she’d missed his early life. It further convinced her of Si Ming’s formidable skill. She had read in the script that Song Xuanren’s mother had died in childbirth. Guilt had likely weighed on him ever since he’d been old enough to understand, and his father’s grief-induced coldness must have reinforced it. Fengjiu had also read the lines that had defined the core of Song Xuanren’s character: he was a mortal who yearned for love, but was doomed to be denied it.

‘…I had a natural aptitude for governance, even from an early age. By age 8, I understood that the questions about rule that the Chief Eunuch asked me every now and then weren’t a routine part of princely education; they were thorny matters that my father and his advisors struggled to resolve. It wasn’t until I was 12 years old that the Chief Eunuch revealed to my father how he had managed to advise him on such difficult matters. After that, my father’s court officials all took to testing me and said it was as if I was born with an Emperor’s mind. I was just happy that my father took an interest in me after that…those years….were the first time he ever shared meals with me and treated me like a father…’

Of course he was born with the mind of an Emperor, Fengjiu had to work hard not to smile at the thought. Si Ming must have woven Dijun’s own, tremendous aptitude into the script rather than trying to suppress it.

‘Your Majesty is gifted by Heaven,’ Qingti dared to offer a bold compliment. Fengjiu was worried that it might backfire, since she’d already detected that, for Song Xuanren, being so distinctive had been a private source of pain for him. Thankfully, he smiled.

‘It is true…I have much to be grateful for. Too often of late, I have dwelled on what has remained beyond my grasp. It is good to remember all that has been given to me,’ Song Xuanren admitted with humility far greater than was typical for a ruler.

‘Nothing was given that was not deserved, Your Majesty,’ Fengjiu added. ‘You are a ruler who upholds the laws and safeguards the people. You are a good man and a virtuous Emperor.’

To Fengjiu’s dismay, it was her compliment that pained Song Xuanren. He paused for a moment to regain his composure. The sadness in his eyes scraped at Fengjiu’s heart and left her feeling raw. ‘If only she thought so,’ he murmured quietly, before joking more loudly, ‘Perhaps I would have made a good monk.’

The three of them finished inspecting every trap in the Emperor’s Tomb, made their way back outside and mounted their horses to return to the Imperial Palace. Fengjiu and Qingti were careful to keep the conversation lighthearted and include Song Xuanren tightly within their banter. It had the desired effect, for when they dismounted at the stables, the Emperor praised them sincerely, ‘You each have saved my life in battle and your work on the mechanisms surpassed that of any engineer. But what has meant the most today is that you treated me like a friend and a brother. I won’t forget it.’

Yet, the Emperor left to dine alone and catch up on the stack of memorials that needed his reply.

Over the dinner she shared with Qingti, Fengjiu hinted at one concern that remained with her about the Lingbi Stone. ‘Qingti, even with the one hundred mechanisms we have installed, I would not trust those alone to keep the Lingbi Stone safe from a determined thief. And I have suspicions that Chong’an is trying to steal it.’

Qingti nodded grimly as he ladled more stew into her rough wooden bowl before serving himself. ‘Twice, the guards have reported suspicious movements to me. A figure cloaked in black scouting out the tomb at night and fleeing into the woods before he could be apprehended. Chong’an has long been Chengyu’s enemy; their agents are the first suspects who came to my mind, too.’

Fengjiu recalled what Si Ming had told her about the Red Demon Princess being involved in attempts to steal the Lingbi Stone. She couldn’t imagine Si Ming not knowing that the Lingbi Stone was a divine artifact, but Zhe Yan had taught her always to be careful. One minor detail could turn a remedy into a poison, after all. So, when she was alone in her quarters within the palace, Fengjiu quietly summoned Si Ming.

‘It’s a chunk of green stone that radiated power that felt immortal – only when Song Xuanren or I touched it,’ Fengjiu explained. ‘But, you’ve known this – right?’

Si Ming paced and rubbed his chin. ‘I knew that a random fragment of stone fell from one of the immortal lands down to this particular mortal realm a few generations ago,’ Si Ming acknowledged. ‘But it was a tiny fragment and seemed to have had little impact other than becoming a cherished, national treasure. So, I saw no need to look more closely. Wait just a moment, Xiao Dianxia.’

Si Ming phased away for several moments, so Fengjiu continued her nightly routine. She changed into the robes she wore to the baths and set her discarded day clothes in the laundry basket that palace servants would collect in the morning. When Si Ming returned, he was visibly chagrined – and he held the Lingbi Stone in his hand.

‘You took it!?!’ Fengjiu yelped, then clapped her hand over her mouth for having raised her voice. She hoped that the night watch would not come running.

‘I had to,’ Si Ming insisted, keeping his voice low. Holding the Lingbi Stone out for Fengjiu to observe, Si Ming regarded it soberly and explained, ‘Xiao Dianxia, this is a remnant of the Soul Locking Jade, a treasure that the demons already stole from Dijun once before. It is very powerful.’

Fengjiu gaped at Si Ming. ‘How could anyone steal anything from Dijun? Zhe Yan has told me that Dijun’s wards are nearly impossible to breach. Not to mention that what I learned in ancient history classes is that as the ruler of Heaven, Dijun executed everyone who even attempted to steal from him.’

Nodding, Si Ming agreed, ‘It should have been impossible. But one of the demon lords, Yan Chiwu, managed it. He is one of the more capable demon lords, second only to Red Demon Lord Xu Yang. Dijun has been testing his abilities recently to determine whether he is a threat. I cannot leave this here, especially with Ji Heng attempting to steal it.’

‘All right,’ Fengjiu agreed, her heart pounding faster than it had since she had rescued Song Xuanren on the battlefield. ‘Could you also leave a decoy in its place? Or…or do you mean for Dijun to be humiliated by this loss?’

Fengjiu worried, too, for Qingti. Would she and her friend fall under suspicion? For the Lingbi Stone to disappear immediately after Song Xuanren had shown them the chamber where it was kept…she couldn’t see any other outcome. And while Fengjiu would merely return home to Qingqiu if the worst happened, she cared about Qingti and couldn’t bear the idea that her mortal friend’s life might be cut short.

Si Ming’s smile assuaged her fears. ‘Don’t worry, Xiao Dianxia, I had other plans for Song Xuanren’s life. And Dijun will want to know which demons have been trying to get their hands on this. I will leave a convincing decoy in the Soul Locking Jade’s place. May I trouble you to help the mortal general catch Ji Heng, so she can be interrogated as to who is pushing her to steal it?’

Relieved, Fengjiu readily agreed. As she soaked quietly in her bath that evening, she thought of how she could nudge Qingti to investigate Lady Chu Wan, Ji Heng’s mortal persona as the concubine from Chong’an. She decided that it was time to draw on one aspect of her immortal power that would not cause her any backfires at all.

After her bath, Fengjiu withdrew to a secluded corner of the palace, shifted to her fox form, and slipped out to the woods. There in the shadows beneath the moonlit trees and brush, Fengjiu summoned the foxes of this world. They were simple creatures, not one of them a spiritual fox, but still alert and attentive. It was easy for Fengjiu to plant her command in their minds: raise the alarm at the sight of any demons prowling near the Emperor’s Tomb at night. Since the foxes would be out hunting at this time, anyway, it would be an easy task. All of them yipped their assent to her instruction.

All that remained for Fengjiu to do was wait. Within three nights, while she was sharing a pot of wine with Qingti, her sensitive, fox’s ears picked up on the cries of several foxes in the woods around the Emperor’s Tomb.

‘Qingti…it has been a while since we inspected the Emperor’s Tomb…what would you say to an unannounced visit?’ she suggested.

‘Right now?’ Qingti asked, surprised by the suddenness.

But Fengjiu nodded firmly and pointed out, ‘It would be unexpected for any agent of Chong’an who has studied the timing of our patrols and might know when to slip by.’

At this reasoning, Qingti grinned and clapped her on the upper arm. ‘Good thinking, my brother.’

So it was that the two of them were able to ride out in time to catch the would-be thief, who had been slowed considerably by the many traps they had constructed beneath the tomb. Fengjiu worried for a moment that the demon would use its powers to vanish rather than be apprehended…but this one, like Ji Heng, seemed to be unaware of its own abilities, too. She and Qingti were able to bind the black-cloaked-and-masked thief with ordinary rope, like any mortal.

When they unmasked the thief in front of Song Xuanren, who had been up late working on yet another stack of memorials from his officials, Fengjiu was not at all surprised to see that it was Lady Chu Wan’s maid, Ling Xiang. The demon bodyguard who had eloped with Ji Heng.

‘My lady knows nothing of this, the fault is mine alone,’ Ling Xiang insisted as she knelt before Song Xuanren in his study. Song Xuanren summoned additional guards while Qingti stood close behind Ling Xiang to prevent her escape.

‘The Master is always culpable for the servant’s faults,’ Song Xuanren retorted sternly. ‘If only because she should have verified your honesty before bringing you with her. But she may be no more than a servant herself; others in Chong’an may have told her to bring you, for that was the plan all along - to have you steal the Lingbi Stone.’

Within an hour, in the middle of the night, guards escorted Lady Chu Wan to the Emperor’s study as well. Fengjiu listened as Song Xuanren interrogated her and – just as Fengjiu would have expected from Dijun’s mortal incarnation – dissected every attempt at lying and concealing motives until Ji Heng’s mortal incarnation was forced to confess that she had been sent to stir up trouble.

‘Who knew about the Lingbi Stone’s location?’ Song Xuanren asked. Fengjiu listened intently – this was exactly what Si Ming wanted to know.

Lady Chu Wan bowed her head and asserted in a voice too dainty to persuade anyone of her resolve, ‘I would rather die than betray him.’

And you just revealed that it’s a he, Fengjiu thought to herself, her lips twitching at the corners.

The Emperor seemed poised to have her sent to the dungeon, but Fengjiu didn’t want to pass up this opportunity. Risking a mild backlash, she flicked her wrist and cast a compulsion spell on Ji Heng’s mortal incarnation.

‘Mr. Nie was so good to me; he healed me when I might have died!’ Lady Chu Wan blurted out, sounding utterly foolish and sentimental for having betrayed her benefactor so easily.

Now, Fengjiu could give Si Ming a name. But her satisfaction was short-lived, for an instant later, she felt the backfire. It stabbed at her gut and, to her chagrin, the fiery pain caused her to double over and cough up a few drops of blood.

At the very….very….worst possible time.

As Fengjiu dropped to one knee, she heard Qingti shout Xiao Jiu!

But she also heard another cry of alarm and, in the span of a few heartbeats, felt feminine hands gripping her shoulders.

Disoriented, Fengjiu looked up and was dismayed to see Zhou Mengxi.

It baffled Fengjiu that Song Xuanren’s beloved concubine would even be awake this late at night, let alone fully dressed and bold enough to rush into the Emperor’s private study without his invitation. No….it wasn’t just baffling. It was horrifying. For Zhou Mengxi’s eyes shone with passionate yearning and care – feelings from the depth of her heart.

Feelings that Song Xuanren desperately wanted from her, but that she had denied him.

A cold pit of dread formed in Fengjiu’s gut as she risked a glance at the mortal Emperor.

His eyes were empty.

Jealousy and anguish flooded out from him in waves.

And within the hour, Fengjiu found herself locked in a cell in the same dungeon as Ji Heng and her demon maid, lamenting how deeply she’d gotten herself entangled in Dijun’s mortal trial.

No matter how hard she’d tried, Fengjiu had still found herself enmeshed in Song Xuanren’s heartbreak, as if she were destined to be implicated in Dijun’s love fate in the mortal realm.

Fengjiu sighed. And this was the thanks she got for trying to do Si Ming a favor.

Chapter Text

‘No, it’s not time for you to leave yet…’

Fengjiu scowled at Zhe Yan, who had been kind enough to visit her while she was in prison, but who was enjoying himself far too much at her predicament. She could see his mouth twitching as he tried to keep from smirking.

‘Stop that!’ she grumped, pointing an accusing finger at him. Her uncle-by-marriage pressed his lips together tightly and raised innocent eyebrows at her.

‘This is a mess,’ Fengjiu complained as she paced back and forth on the straw-covered floor while Zhe Yan stood nearby, looking utterly radiant. ‘Zhou Mengxi is in love with me! Why didn’t you warn me? And poor Qingti – what if his natural life is disrupted because of this…this stupid love triangle?!’

‘Xiao Jiu, how could I know what Si Ming had in store…’ Zhe Yan began, but his protestation earned him another scowl and a harrumph. Fengjiu refused to believe that he hadn’t seen any of this. But he continued, ‘…the mortal realm is so fleeting and chaotic. Future events in the mortal realm are among the hardest things for me to see. But don’t worry, no matter how I look into your friend’s future, he will live the full life that Si Ming had written for him.’

As if Si Ming were listening in, they heard the metallic rattling of keys and footsteps coming in the distance. Zhe Yan bid her an affectionate farewell and phased away in a sunrise glow. A few moments later, a guard approached with Qingti, whose face was lined with grief to the point that he looked like he had aged overnight.

‘Qingti, you don’t look so good. Didn’t you sleep?’ Fengjiu asked worriedly.

At this, her friend laughed ruefully while the jailer unlocked her cell. ‘Shouldn’t that be my question to you, Xiao Jiu?’

After he had entered her cell, Qingti cast a look so severe at the guard that the other man hurried quickly away. In the next instant, Qingti had gripped her by the upper arms and rested his forehead against hers in a brotherly embrace.

‘I will find a way to calm His Majesty’s anger,’ Qingti promised too quickly. ‘You have had no contact at all with the harem.’

‘Qingti, don’t worry about me,’ Fengjiu insisted, giving his upper arms a firm, reassuring squeeze before taking a step back. ‘Although he reacted irrationally in the moment, at heart the Emperor is a reasonable man. You know it’s true.’

In a low voice, Qingti wondered, ‘Is he? Where she is concerned?’

A wry smile curved Fengjiu’s lips as she thought of her Gu Gu and Ye Hua, or the stories she’d heard about the rivalry between her grandfather and Zhe Yan over her grandmother’s affections. Her own family had taught her that Qingti’s doubts had merit – reason often flew out the window where love was concerned. And Si Ming had written Song Xuanren to yearn for Zhou Mengxi…

Qingti ended up staying for more than an hour and Fengjiu did her best to console him as they sat against the hard, stone wall of her cell. He only left when she reminded him that it was already mid-morning and his soldiers would be confused if neither one of them appeared to lead their training.

‘It won’t be…’ Qingti began, but choked on his words as he looked at her miserably.

Fengjiu smiled and did her best to encourage him. ‘You were leading troops in exercises long before we became friends.’

Qingti clenched his jaw and hung his head in frustration. Fengjiu patted him gruffly on the back and, reluctantly, he left to go to the practice grounds.

She thought she might have time to sit and think about how to leave Dijun’s mortal trial without causing poor Qingti too much pain, since events all seemed to be leading toward her necessary departure. So, she settled into a relaxed, lotus pose on the floor and began cultivating. However, within half an hour, Fengjiu had another visitor.

A familiar rattling of keys and creaking of the barred door disturbed her meditation. Fengjiu opened her eyes, noticed the brightness surrounding her, and belatedly realized that she had been radiating fairy power.

Song Xuanren stood just paces away. His eyes held a faint spark of recognition that might have been mistaken for awe, except that…well, if Fengjiu had to explain it, there was a hint of Dijun’s immortal nature there. Yet, mortal he was, and true to his mortal nature, his entire body was stiff and tense with jealousy.

‘Leave us,’ Song Xuanren ordered. The jailer was quite happy to obey. Meanwhile, Fengjiu shifted to her knees and bowed.

For several, painfully long moments, Song Xuanren studied her without saying a word. At last, he declared coolly, ‘I have decreed that in two days, Mengxi will become my Empress. She has agreed on the condition that I release you from prison…I would have done so anyway. I know that I have no reasonable charges to levy against you.’

Surprised, Fengjiu looked up and saw the resignation in the mortal Emperor’s eyes.

Of course, he couldn’t be unreasonable for too long, she thought, as an immortal, Dijun is renowned for prizing justice above all.

‘You will be freed once the ceremony is over….freed and compelled to leave this kingdom. You are exiled from Chengyu,’ Song Xuanren continued, his voice numb and empty of any joy. When he looked at her, he choked out indignantly, ‘You are a monk. You profess to live virtuously, to have no interest in relations with women. How dare you make her love you? How dare you take my place in her heart?’

Oh, it hurt Fengjiu to face this unhappy man, who had reached the end of his tolerance. Doing her best to speak calmly, Fengjiu protested, ‘Your Majesty, you have always treated me generously, and I would deserve death if I had betrayed you. But I swear I did nothing to—’

‘I know you didn’t!’ Song Xuanren interrupted harshly, his eyes glimmering with bitter, unshed tears. ‘I have bared my very soul to her, and she rejected me again and again. You have done nothing, and she loves you. I am a man…and some humiliations are too great to bear. She has accepted me for your sake. Do you know how it feels to be indebted to another man for a woman’s love?’

Fengjiu hung her head and said nothing. What could she say?

Song Xuanren hadn’t been blinded by jealousy at all.

He admitted that Xiao Jiu hadn’t done a thing to encourage Zhou Mengxi. Implicitly, he had just acknowledged that he’d thrown the warrior-monk in prison for no good reason.

No reason, except to assuage his own heartache.

And now, Fengjiu’s heart hurt, too.

‘I will leave the kingdom. I have been away from my temple for too long,’ Fengjiu agreed. It looked like her part in Dijun’s mortal trial had run its course.

After a weighty pause, Song Xuanren gestured for her to stand.

Hesitantly, Fengjiu rose to her feet. Dijun’s mortal incarnation looked her directly in the eyes and said, ‘I will have Qingti escort you to the border after the ceremony, with a sizeable donation for your temple, including incense of my own making. Xiao Jiu…you saved my life. In return, I have treated you unjustly. I admit this. I wish….’

Song Xuanren fell silent and seemed to be at a loss for words. His arms hung at his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Eventually, he continued, ‘Qingti is my best general. Please send him back to me. I hope the gift to your temple will do something to make amends.’

How awkward and sad it was for Fengjiu to hear Song Xuanren struggle to express himself. Once upon a time, many centuries ago, Fengjiu had idolized Dong Hua Dijun. Her younger self would have squealed to be hearing the confessions of his heart, even in mortal guise. But now, Fengjiu only wanted to get away…to stop being a source of his despair.

‘Your Majesty, no amends are necessary. You love the Lady Mengxi with your whole heart and I have gotten in the way. I will leave without regret. I did not answer your question earlier. I did not think you expected an answer. But the answer is no. I have never known what it feels like to be indebted to another for someone’s love. I could not, because I have never loved someone the way you love your Empress-to-be. My experiences pale by comparison. I offer you my sincere wishes for your happiness,’ Fengjiu spoke truthfully.

Even though I know Si Ming has set his hand against that very happiness.

Song Xuanren’s throat clenched, then he let out a low sigh. Fengjiu saw a tear glide down over his cheek. The two of them shared a deeply intimate moment; in the silence, Fengjiu felt that this unhappy mortal Emperor had bared his soul to her in a way he had not done with any other.

‘Thank you, Xiao Jiu,’ Song Xuanren said as he turned and left.

Fengjiu blinked her eyes rapidly and swallowed.

‘Si Ming…you’re really capable,’ Fengjiu murmured to herself.

‘Song Xuanren’s marriage will be miserable,’ a familiar voice observed to her left, startling Fengjiu.

‘Si Ming, what are you doing here?’ Fengjiu hissed at him. He smiled.

‘Zhe Yan sent me,’ Si Ming explained. ‘He’s waiting for you in Qingqiu. We have both kept an eye on you, Xiao Dianxia, as you know from his recent visit. Your presence here may have been unplanned, but you have helped me enhance Dijun’s misfortunes in this life. Zhe Yan asked me to tell you that your uncles have planned some diversions for you when you return, to make up for the fact that you suffered here at the end.’

Fengjiu smiled weakly, although the ache in her chest was soothed by warmth at the realization that, after all was said and done, this was really just a mortal dream, one she was about to wake up from.

But her heart clenched again a moment later. Qingti.

A month or two after she returned home, Qingti’s life would be over. Fengjiu hoped that he would move onto another mortal incarnation…but it wouldn’t be Qingti. The friendship that had grown so deep was really ending.

That thought preoccupied her when guards escorted Lady Chu Wan and her maid out of the prison to be sent back to Chong’an in disgrace. Fengjiu hardly cared what would happen to the Red Demon Princess. Instead, she tried to think of what gift she might leave with Qingti, what token of friendship she might offer that would make it less painful for her to disappear on him. Fengjiu continued thinking about this through a night and well into the next day when she received another visitor. One who risked a great deal to take advantage of the fact that Xiao Jiu had nowhere else to go.

‘Have you been treated well?’ Zhou Mengxi asked, concealed behind a plain, brown cowl as she stood on the other side of the bars. For a purseful of coins, the jailer had permitted Song Xuanren’s treasured concubine to see Xiao Jiu but not to enter the cell.

What is she doing here? Fengjiu groused silently to herself. Although she knew that it was beyond Zhou Mengxi’s control since Si Ming had fated her to be this way…Fengjiu was really tired of this infatuation.

‘I have,’ Fengjiu answered bluntly. ‘I’ve assured you that I am well. You may leave, Empress.’

Zhou Mengxi flinched at the title, and Fengjiu realized that her response sounded very much like the sharp-tongued dismissals of a certain silver-haired immortal.

The thought amused her. Yes, since she’d gone through all this on his account, why not borrow Dijun’s indifference to get herself over this final hurdle?

‘I was foolish to rush in that night,’ Zhou Mengxi apologized. ‘I panicked when you sickened, and it brought you such harm.’

Fengjiu stood several paces back from the bars, keeping a good distance between herself and Zhou Mengxi. She adopted the calm, stone-statue poise she remembered Dijun using when he’d demanded half her fiend berries. ‘What is done is done. I will be free to go after your coronation as Empress. There is no great harm.’

Tears pooled at the corners of Zhou Mengxi’s eyes as she clutched at the bars tightly with both hands. Yet Fengjiu made sure that the real barrier was her own posture of disinterest.

Mimicking Dijun is actually a bit fun…

‘Do you really feel nothing for me at all?’ Zhou Mengxi whispered.

‘I have never wished to deceive you or give you false hope,’ Fengjiu answered calmly. ‘I chose a spiritual life.’

‘I know you didn’t seduce me…I know you didn’t,’ Zhou Mengxi quietly sobbed. ‘And yet I love you still. Maybe because of it. The Emperor has smothered me with his desperation. He has sacrificed his dignity for me, yet he cannot say why he loves me. It is an obsession. But you have chosen your life so deliberately, with such…purpose…you have not burdened anyone else with giving meaning to your life.’

‘Your praise is over-generous, Your Majesty,’ Fengjiu deflected. ‘I only follow the teachings of my temple.’

‘Will you accept nothing from me? Not even honest admiration?’ Zhou Mengxi persisted.

Fengjiu stared back at her, unmoved, still and cold as an alpine lake in winter. ‘There can be nothing between us. You are about to be crowned Empress; you are not a common woman. There are some things that you should understand. I have no place here. I must go. If you do not stop this, everyone will get hurt.’

Zhou Mengxi’s face dissolved in tears. Fengjiu pitied her, but felt it was better to be this cruel now than to let her persist in a vain hope. The other woman tugged her cowl around her face to conceal her bitter heartache and rushed away from Fengjiu’s cell.

Fengjiu exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. That had been horrible.

But at least it had ended Zhou Mengxi’s pursuit. Fengjiu did not expect to see that poor woman, who had the misfortune of being Si Ming’s tool in Dijun’s mortal trial, ever again.

Chapter Text

The following day, Fengjiu listened from her cell as the entire city gathered in the streets to celebrate the crowning of Song Xuanren’s Empress. She heard the acclamations from the crowd and climbed up on her bed to peer out of the high window in her cell to see the bridal palanquin pass by. For Zhou Mengxi’s sake, Fengjiu hoped the woman had resigned herself to make the best of her situation, rather than resigning herself miserably to it. As Empress, she would have so many privileges, so many advantages. She would be unhappy in love, but Fengjiu hoped that Zhou Mengxi had the strength to make peace with circumstances that others who were less fortunate would envy.

‘Xiao Jiu, someday you will be the Queen of Qingqiu. You’ll need to think about the lives of your people and sometimes that responsibility will have to take precedence over your own wishes,’ her Fourth Uncle, Bai Zhen, had often reminded her.

For the rest of the day, there were celebrations throughout the city. Fengjiu could hear music and laughter and applause for street performers, as the commoners of the city, right down to the palace servants, took advantage of the coronation ceremony and royal wedding. It made her time waiting in the cell less dreary to hear so much happiness.

And to her delight, Qingti chose to forego all of the celebrations to come and sit with her in the cell. He even brought food from the banquet that Song Xuanren had ordered to be prepared for the palace servants and soldiers. Since Fengjiu hadn’t been able to go hunting as a fox during the few days of her imprisonment, even the bland, fish stew that the soldiers relished so heartily was welcome.

‘Thank you, Qingti,’ Fengjiu smiled at him. ‘For bringing some of the festivities to me.’

‘If you’re in prison, then I’d rather be here than with noisy crowds,’ Qingti grinned back at her. His eyes narrowed slyly and his smile broadened as he withdrew a flask concealed in his sleeve. ‘And I brought more than just food. This is some of my best liquor. You’re the only one I know who can keep up with me in drinking, so it’s right that we share this together.’

Fengjiu laughed and gladly accepted a drink from the flask before passing it back to Qingti. The smooth flavor was paired with a powerful kick – almost nearing the level of the weak wine that was served in Heaven Kingdom. This was a good, last meal for her to share with Qingti in the mortal realm. Neither of them talked about it, since they both wanted to enjoy their time together without regrets, but in the morning, Qingti would have to escort her too the border of Chengyu and tell her never to return to the kingdom.

Instead, they talked about Lady Chu Wan’s return to Chong’an.

‘Chong’an has already sent a protest to the Emperor, calling her return a grave insult to the kingdom,’ Qingti filled her in on the latest news.

‘So, you’re expecting trouble,’ Fengjiu concluded.

‘Mm,’ Qingti affirmed. ‘That is why I’m rotating all palace and city guards through watch duty during the celebrations. I don’t want Chong’an to catch us off guard.’

‘Mm,’ Fengjiu hummed in approval. She’d found Qingti such good company during her time in Dijun’s mortal trial because he was a mortal who had a good, solid grasp of strategy.

Qingti should have left after their shared meal, but they ended up sitting side-by-side on her cot and talking late into the night, until they fell asleep leaning against each other’s shoulders, the empty flask nearby on its side.

The mood in the morning was far more somber.

The time had come at last for Xiao Jiu to be exiled from the kingdom.

Both Qingti and Fengjiu were stoic as they walked out of the underground prison cells and toward the stables where horses awaited them – along with a contingent of twelve soldiers. Fengjiu grinned sadly. Song Xuanren was taking no chances that Qingti would be tempted to let Xiao Jiu stay somewhere in the wilderness near the capital city.

Or that Qingti would be tempted to leave with his good friend.

As it turned out, though, the soldiers had volunteered and all of them were men that Xiao Jiu had gotten along with well. To Fengjiu’s surprise, many of these recruits she had trained also wanted the chance to send the warrior-monk off.

‘The barracks won’t be the same without you,’ one of them said.

‘The exercises will be too easy. We’re going to get soft,’ another joked.

Qingti feigned a scowl and raised his hand in playful menace. ‘Too easy? You dare say so? I can fix that.’ It gave all of them a chance to laugh.

She mounted a horse that already carried two sacks of gold coins – Song Xuanren’s promised donation to Xiao Jiu’s temple. Fengjiu rode beside Qingti in the crisp, morning air as merchants were just setting up their stalls in the city streets beyond the palace. The soldiers followed on foot. As they neared the gate to the city, Fengjiu glanced up at the walls of the Imperial Palace and saw Song Xuanren standing there, flanked by his Chief Eunuch and servants, watching Xiao Jiu depart. Although he was too distant for her to see his face clearly, she bowed her head in respect to the Emperor. Fengjiu wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw him nod in return.

They ambled slowly along the road heading north out of the city because Fengjiu told Qingti that her temple lay in that direction, toward distant mountains. It so happened that this road took them by the Emperor’s Tomb, where the Lingbi Stone had been concealed until Si Ming had replaced it with a decoy. As they approached, Fengjiu heard the cry of warning from a lone fox who was awake at this early hour in the day. Something wasn’t right. When they were close enough to see the tomb, Fengjiu noticed that there were fewer guards at the gate than usual – just two instead of four. Yet there were a dozen, unfamiliar horses tied nearby.

‘Qingti…’ Fengjiu alerted him.

‘I see it,’ her friend confirmed, his posture already tense and prepared for action. The soldiers who walked on foot also began murmuring. No one recognized the two guards stationed at the gate to the Emperor’s Tomb…and those two men looked extremely nervous at the arrival of an unexpected military contingent.

Everyone’s suspicions increased when the two guards suddenly withdrew into the Emperor’s Tomb.

‘Chong’an?’ Fengjiu guessed as she turned to Qingti. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword.

‘I’d wager a jug of the best liquor that it is,’ Qingti agreed.

‘The Emperor said nothing to forbid me from helping you stop Chong’an spies from stealing the Lingbi Stone before leaving the kingdom, did he?’ Fengjiu joked with a sly grin. One more battle with her mortal friend seemed like the most appealing way to leave him before returning home to Qingqiu and the Ten Miles Peach Orchard.

Qingti gripped her hand tightly and shook it in fraternal encouragement before they both dismounted and led the soldiers to the tomb.

Inside, she could hear the shouts of warning from the two, false guards to their co-conspirators echoing through the stone corridors. Fengjiu, Qingti, and the Chengyu troops rushed after them, knowing far better than anyone how to evade all the traps and mechanisms. Indeed, she noted at least four bodies littering the passageways as they approached the chamber where the Lingbi Stone decoy was hidden – the collateral damage of Chong’an’s attempt to get through the juggernaut of mechanisms she and Qingti had built according to Song Xuanren’s design.

What Fengjiu hadn’t expected at all was to see Song Xuanren’s elder brother with a small contingent of fighters from Chong’an – at least one of whom was a demon.

Have the demons been manipulating Chong’an to do their dirty work? Fengjiu wondered. She didn’t dwell long on this thought, but rushed forward with Qingti to engage their adversaries. Fengjiu’s sword made quick work of two soldiers from Chong’an amid the clanging of steel and menacing shouts around her. Soldiers from both sides slashed at each other, jostling back and forth in the chaos of a real fight – far, far different from the training exercises she’d led these men through with Qingti.

As Fengjiu charged toward the demon among Chong’an’s troops, she saw that he recognized her as a fellow immortal. In a cowardly move, he vanished in a swirl of black smoke – perhaps rushing off to alert any of his allies among the demons. Fengjiu turned to rejoin the fight but nearly choked when her gaze fell on Qingti, who was fighting with Prince Song Xueying himself. What shocked her was not that Qingti was dueling a member of the Imperial family, or that Song Xuanren’s brother was a traitor.

It was the sight of Song Xueying wielding a demon blade, which gleamed a sinister reddish purple in the dim light of the underground chamber.

Demon blades are poisonous, Zhe Yan had taught her when she was younger. Her uncle-by-marriage had been thorough in instructing her in healing, focusing not just on diseases but also on treating injuries caused by the vast array of weapons known in the immortal realms.

Fengjiu knew from Zhe Yan’s lessons that demon blades could inflict wounds on immortals that would take years to heal. And Zhe Yan had explained that Heaven’s laws forbade the use of a demon blade against mortals, since that would not only kill a mortal, but disrupt the natural course of their reincarnation by dooming them to be reborn as mad, rabid demons.

‘Qingti!’ Fengjiu cried out at the sight of Song Xueying slashing the foul, demon weapon at her friend’s neck.

Thankfully, Qingti was the best warrior in the kingdom and was able to dodge the blow and pivot to relative safety. But Song Xueying pursued him with all the zeal and desperation of a man who knew he risked execution for treason if he lost this fight. Fengjiu rushed across the room and threw herself into battling Song Xueying alongside Qingti. The two of them, especially with her martial skills as an immortal, should have easily defeated Song Xueying.

Except that Fengjiu spied a reddish glow in Song Xueying’s eyes. He may have entered this fight of his own volition, but Fengjiu could sense demon power surrounding him. This mortal prince had become someone’s puppet. His skills and strength had magnified ten-fold. And, to Fengjiu’s horror, he managed to hurl her violently to the side while pivoting to drive his evil, demon-blade right through Qingti’s chest.

In one, timeless instant, Fengjiu made a crucial decision.

In the blink of an eye, she phased herself from where she lay dazed against a wall, to put herself right between Song Xueying and Qingti.

The demon blade pierced her right in the heart.

Its poison, and the backfires that seared through Fengjiu, left her spitting up dark blood.

‘XIAO JIU!’ Qingti cried out in despair.

Fengjiu slumped to the ground, too weak to move, although she had no fear of dying. Zhe Yan had also taught her that nine-tailed foxes were among the few immortals who could survive wounds caused by demon blades with few, serious consequences because of their heart’s blood and its ability to purify evil. Oh, she was definitely in agonizing pain…but Fengjiu could already feel her own blood working to neutralize the poison.

But Qingti had no way to know any of this.

And for Xiao Jiu to survive a fatal wound to the heart would definitely expose her as something other than mortal.

Qingti fought Song Xueying with a rage Fengjiu had never witnessed in him. While she lay still and let her body bleed, he was joined by one, then two, then four of the soldiers from Chengyu, all of whom had dispatched their opponents and rushed to aid their general. It allowed Qingti finally to land a killing blow against Song Xueying – followed by many more blows from the other soldiers’ swords. In the eerie quiet that followed, Fengjiu realized that none of the conspirators from Chong’an were left alive.

And then, Qingti was cradling her against his chest, begging his friend Xiao Jiu to hold on.

‘Don’t go…don’t go Xiao Jiu…’ Qingti pleaded.

The men helped Qingti carry Fengjiu out through the tunnels to where they’d left the horses. Fengjiu winced as the urgent pounding of the horse’s hooves worsened the wound in her chest, opening it further and causing her body to bleed faster. Still, she didn’t worry – except to worry for Qingti. She had never wanted to pretend to die in front of him, but she had no choice now.

The spell she planned to use would be tricky, and likely use enough magic to cause another backfire, but it would allow Qingti to go on believing that his friend Xiao Jiu was truly a mortal man.

Crowds scattered in panic when Qingti reached the imperial city again and drove his steed through the streets. When he entered the palace, nearby guards and officials came rushing over to see what was the matter. Qingti handed Xiao Jiu, bloody but still breathing, to a pair of guards, leaped from his horse, then gathered his friend in his arms again and rushed toward the Imperial Physician’s quarters, shouting for the doctor as he ran.

Qingti had raised such a commontion that, scarcely a quarter of an hour later, as the Imperial Physician was settling at her bedside and poised to undo her robes, Song Xuanren strode into the room.

At that instant, Fengjiu simultaneously phased herself from the bed to a corner of the room, raised an invisibility shield around herself, and created a golem resembling herself – but male - to take her place. It was one of the more complicated spells she had ever done. She felt herself about to pass out, so she shifted to her fox form and phased herself yet again, this time to the woods outside the palace. Darkness swallowed her up as she lost consciousness amid agonizing spasms of pain from the backfires.

When Fengjiu regained consciousness, she felt something licking her snout. She opened her eyes to darkness, but her vision adjusted and she realized she had slept until night. Her chest still hurt. But a wild fox from the mortal realm…in fact, several foxes…surrounded her and were licking her face and her wounds. Their ministrations were the first relief Fengjiu had had.

Even greater help arrived not long after, when Fengjiu saw a shimmer of godly power among the trees, a warm glow that resolved itself into a very familiar figure.

‘Xiao Huli,’ Zhe Yan said as he drew near, his eyes gentle with care and concern. ‘Are you angry with your uncles? Why must you do so much to worry us like this?’

The powerful Phoenix Immortal who was like a second father to her picked her up and tucked her into the safety of his embrace.

Qingti…Fengjiu thought to herself, grateful that her uncle-by-marriage had come to take care of her, but distressed at how deeply her sudden, violent exit from the mortal world must have hurt her friend.

‘Don’t worry, Xiao Jiu. You will be able to see to it that your friend is all right,’ Zhe Yan assured her. ‘Si Ming owes you a debt for all this. I’ll bring you back once I’ve healed you.’

Fengjiu closed her eyes and snuggled into the crook of Zhe Yan’s arm. She did it. She’d made it through Dijun’s mortal trial.

You owe me, too, uncle, Fengjiu growled softly in her fox voice.

Zhe Yan chuckled at her. ‘Perhaps. But hold that thought until you see what you’ve gained for your troubles…’

Chapter Text

Fengjiu sat in a lotus pose on a familiar, flat rock near a pond in the Ten Miles Peach Orchard. In front of her sat her Fourth Uncle Bai Zhen and behind her sat Zhe Yan. While she cultivated, each of them held their hands out and bathed her in the soothing warmth of their own cultivation. Zhe Yan had described this cure as saturating her with cultivation in order to purify the poison from the demon blade. And what Fengjiu learned was that an immortal could be peevish even while transferring healing power.

‘How could you send Xiao Jiu into danger like that?’ Bai Zhen scolded Zhe Yan, his brow lightly furrowed in concentration.

‘Is it not customary for members of the Bai Clan to spend time in the mortal realm as part of their education?’ Zhe Yan countered innocently.

Fengjiu’s eyes were closed, but she grinned slightly at the indignant expression she imagined on her Uncle Bai Zhen’s face.

‘How can you turn this around on me?’ Bai Zhen retorted. His voice was sharp yet affectionate, exactly as Fengjiu expected after having heard a few, rare fights between them in the thousands of years she had spent living with her uncles.

‘It was a rare opportunity for Fengjiu to see how Si Ming’s mortal trials can restore depleted cultivation and she managed it like a true Bai,’ Zhe Yan cajoled his husband. ‘Her own cultivation has benefitted from the experience. It will show after we cleanse the poison from her system.’

‘There shouldn’t be any poison in her system,’ Bai Zhen muttered in disapproval.

‘Uncle, don’t blame Zhe Yan. You know his vision sees broader, steady patterns better than the small details that shift unpredictably,’ Fengjiu spoke at last. She was feeling almost completely healed. The pain in her heart now stemmed solely from regret at what Qingti must have gone through at her “death.”

‘And we’ve planned some distractions for our niece, haven’t we, Zhen-Zhen?’ Zhe Yan added. ‘It’s true that Xiao Jiu has suffered. Now, you and I will spoil her and help her let it go.’

But I don’t want to let all of it go… Fengjiu thought.

‘I want to go see how Qingti is doing,’ Fengjiu said, opening her eyes.

Bai Zhen regarded her with quiet sympathy. ‘I looked in on you a few times. The mortal general had the honest spirit of Qingqiu in him.’

‘He’s like a brother to me,’ Fengjiu agreed.

‘Are you feeling fully healed?’ Zhe Yan asked.

Fengjiu stopped her cultivating and glanced at her uncle-by-marriage over her shoulder. ‘Mm,’ she affirmed. ‘We’ve been at this for six hours, Uncle.’

Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen also stopped showering her with their cultivation. ‘I’ll allow it, but Zhe Yan must cloak you so you will be safe and unseen,’ Bai Zhen acquiesed.

‘Of course,’ Zhe Yan agreed. ‘Would I neglect my niece?’

‘Demon blade,’ Bai Zhen reminded him with an arched eyebrow.

As Fengjiu rose to her feet, out of the corner of her eye she thought she spied  Zhe Yan pursing his lips in a flirty, blown kiss toward her Fourth Uncle. She smiled. After the drama of Song Xuanren’s unrequited love for Zhou Mengxi, this far-better example of true love was a balm to her spirit.

Fengjiu could easily fly to the mortal realm and remain hidden behind an invisibility shield, but she understood why Bai Zhen was feeling extra protective of her. Zhe Yan waved his hand and surrounded her with his own, far stronger magic that would not only conceal her from mortal eyes, but would also shield her from any further demon attacks. Fengjiu could feel the light tingling of his phoenix energy in the air around her.

‘All right, go, Xiao Huli,’ Zhe Yan encouraged her. ‘It’s been about four months. Check in on Dijun, too, while you are there.’

It made sense to Fengjiu. She could observe how the mortal trial was working to restore Dijun’s cultivation while she also checked on her friend, Qingti.

Fengjiu rode a cloud back down to the Kingdom of Chengyu and marveled at how much easier it was now. She could feel how much stronger her fairy power was – it was like awakening refreshed and full of energy after a long sleep.

When she flew over Chengyu, Fengjiu was unsurprised to see increased security all around the capital city and reinforced garrisons near the border with Chong’an. Being here in her immortal guise had its advantages. She searched for Qingti and discovered that he was not in the Imperial Palace at all, but out in the border garrison. A chill went through her as she gently drifted down to the ground there. Fengjiu worried that he might be seeking to vent his grief against Chengyu’s longstanding enemy. That could be dangerous and she didn’t want him to throw his life away.

Fengjiu found him supervising exercises in the main yard of the fortified garrison – aided by one of the recruits she had helped him train. Qingti was focused and disciplined as ever. His corrections when a soldier messed up were stritct yet patient. Fengjiu found this encouraging as she watched him throughout the afternoon. Yet he did not join the soldiers for a meal at the end of the day.

He withdrew to his quarters, bathed without eating anything, and in coarse, undyed, evening robes, went to sit before an altar. There, Qingti lit three sticks of incense and sat quietly reflecting for a long time. Fengjiu spied the empty flask she and Qingti had shared in her prison cell, along with the sword she’d carried as warrior-monk Xiao Jiu. Both were displayed with reverence – the only worldly possessions she had left behind in this realm.

Fengjiu was startled when Qingti began speaking.

‘I didn’t mourn you properly at first, my brother…I nearly drank myself blind. Even you wouldn’t have been able to keep up,’ he reminisced.

Fengjiu smiled. Care to wager? she thought, silently joking with her friend.

'But His Majesty reminded me why I admired you…why you became like family to me,’ Qingti continued. ‘You lived simply and righteously, and cared for others before yourself. You drank with me as a brother, but never became a drunkard. So, how could I drown myself in liquor without shaming myself before your memory?’

Fengjiu hoped Song Xuanren hadn’t scolded Qingti, but she suspected that even if he had, it would have been done with compassion. Dijun’s mortal incarnation wasn’t a bad man—just a very unfortunate one.

‘You saved my life, Xiao Jiu. You died for me…’ Qingti choked out, his voice barely audible. ‘I promise to live a worthy life as the only way I have left to repay you.’

Yes! Yes, do that Qingti…if you follow this path, someday I’m sure you’ll attain immortality and we’ll see each other again! Fengjiu encouraged him inwardly.

Qingti closed his eyes and continued his meditation at the altar. Fengjiu stayed beside him for another half hour, during which time a single tear slipped down his cheek and he murmured hoarsely, ‘I wish I had been the one to die for you, Xiao Jiu. I miss you, my brother.’

I would never let you, Qingti, Fengjiu thought. Impulsively, she rested her hand on his shoulder. Although Zhe Yan’s shield prevented true contact, perhaps Fengjiu’s presence was providing some sort of comfort. She saw Qingti relax slightly and draw in a deep, soothing breath.

When Qingti finally went to bed, Fengjiu left and wandered through the kingdom. She shifted to her fox form and trotted through the woods, where she was able to thank the local foxes who had cared for her when she’d been wounded. When she arrived in the palace, so much was as she remembered it. Guards patrolled the walls, the quiet city streets, lit by lanterns, were empty save for the cats and mice. Here and there in a humble home, a baby cried in the middle of the night, waking the rest of the household. Things seemed normal.

But when Fengjiu entered the palace and approached the Emperor’s and Empress’s halls, she saw disheartening signs of discord. The Empress’s quarters were decked out in mourning, with white funeral flags tied to wire all around the building. Her lanterns were darkened. Fengjiu was disappointed. Zhou Mengxi’s obsession had continued even after Xiao Jiu’s death.

This was confirmed when Fengjiu entered the Emperor’s private rooms and saw that he was alone and still awake. Song Xuanren’s face was haggard and careworn. And though he should be asleep at this late hour, he paced slowly while the servants sat sleeping outside his doors. No Empress lay beneath the blankets of his bed.

It’s already started. Song Xuanren’s marriage is as miserable as Si Ming said it would be, Fengjiu observed.

He had gotten Zhou Mengxi to marry him but she still didn’t want him. He was as alone as ever.

Fengjiu’s heart stung with pity for Dijun’s mortal incarnation. She hoped he didn’t remember any of this when he awoke.

As she contemplated this, Song Xuanren unexpectedly left his private chamber, forcing his drowsy servants to rouse themselves and accompany him with lanterns to light his way. He didn’t make his way to the Empress’s quarters, as Fengjiu might have expected. Instead, he walked to a small shrine near the outer wall of the palace, close to the soldiers’ barracks. The servants seemed familiar with this behavior – they did not murmur among themselves when the Emperor signaled for them to wait for him outside the shrine. They simply stood quietly as if he had done this dozens of times.

Fengjiu followed Song Xuanren inside the shrine. There were memorials to many of the soldiers who had served and died for the kingdom. Song Xuanren stopped before the newest altar and Fengjiu saw a simple,  inkbrush sketch of herself as Xiao Jiu beside a brazier filled with incense ashes. Much of it had probably been burned by her fellow soldiers, but apparently Song Xuanren had visited once or twice as well. And there, Dijun’s mortal incarnation lit three, new sticks of incense and knelt down in grief and reverence.

‘I say this every night, Xiao Jiu…’ Song Xuanren began.

Every night?! Fengju marveled quietly.

‘…but I am an unworthy ruler and an unworthy man,’ the unhappy Emperor confessed. ‘Out of jealousy, I banished you. If I had not ordered your exile, you might still be alive. Now, it is as if Mengxi has died as well. In her heart, she blames me. But Qingti…seeing Qingti hurts even more. He is bearing it bravely. He serves me loyally still – all to honor you, his friend. It has made me wish I had understood the value of friendship before it was too late.’

Song Xuanren’s weary face was etched with such heartache that Fengjiu struggled to resist the urge to squeeze his shoulder in encouragement, as she’d done with Qingti. As this was Dijun’s mortal incarnation, even in grief, Song Xuanren was handsome and compelling.

‘I have been so foolish. In my heart, there is only one woman and I cannot stop loving her. But I should have cherished friendship as well,’ Song Xuanren murmured. ‘You and Qingti offered it to me. I felt it that day when we worked together in the Emperor’s Tomb. I see now what a treasure that would have been. Yet I envied you. You were younger than I, closer to Mengxi’s age, and so handsome a youth that you might have been mistaken for a beautiful woman. I understood why my beloved was smitten with you. Seeing your appeal, though, only fed my jealousy…’

Fengjiu’s eyes widened to hear Song Xuanren confess such things.

Her disguise had almost not fooled him.

How had Song Xuanren nearly recognized her as a woman when Qingti had not?

Dijun’s mortal incarnation sat quietly at the shrine long enough for the incense he had lit to burn down almost completely. Fengjiu expected him to get up and return to his quarters at that point, but instead, he lit three new sticks of incense and continued contemplating.

‘In truth…although my heart has been unable to let go of Mengxi…I have never been able to understand why I love her when she has made her lack of feelings for me so clear….’ Song Xuanren continued at long last. She realized then that Song Xuanren was using the shrine to Xiao Jiu almost as a silent advisor…one who could not challenge or judge him. ‘The brotherly affection between you and Qingti was more real than what little feeling my Empress has shown me…I would give my kingdom…for Mengxi to care for me as you and Qingti cared for each other as sworn brothers….even now, I can imagine you lingering to watch over him…’

In a heartbeat, Fengjiu phased out of the shrine and to a remote corner of the palace walls. Her pulse was racing.

Had Song Xuanren actually sensed her?!?!

‘Have no fear, Xiao Dianxia, Song Xuanren could not hear you,’ Si Ming’s voice beside her gave Fengjiu a start.

‘Si Ming!’ she scolded, still flustered. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’

The elder immortal smiled demurely and countered, ‘It is not you I have been watching, but Song Xuanren. Managing Dijun in this mortal trial has strained my abilities. As you just saw, Dijun’s own powers of discernment are manifesting themselves as he regains his cultivation and heals. It means that, on an unconscious level, Song Xuanren is growing to understand that his circumstances are unusual.’

‘Even before I died, it bothered him that he treated Xiao Jiu unjustly simply out of jealousy,’ Fengjiu remembered as she and Si Ming began to stroll along the remparts.

Si Ming nodded. ‘Dijun was the grand architect of the system of justice that governs the immortal realms as we know them. He has discerned right from wrong through generation after generation of immortals. To provoke greater misfortunes, I have had to write a script for his mortal incarnation that ran counter to Dijun’s own nature. But after what he confessed at your shrine, I know that my ability to contain him in such a fate is nearly at an end.’

‘That his love has made him behave unjustly?’ Fengjiu guessed.

Si Ming tilted his head and gave half a nod. ‘That is partly it. More imporant is that Dijun’s mind is appreciating the difference between pure, selfless love and passion, and Song Xuanren’s virtue – which is an outgrowth of Dijun’s own – chafes at the reins I have harnessed to him. He has seen the kind of love he would value, the selfless love that led you to give your life for Ye Qingti. Yet I continue to force him toward an irrational passion.’

‘But this is what will strengthen Dijun,’ Fengjiu sighed, admiring Si Ming’s skill.

‘It will. Greatly so. And I have you to thank for that. I might not have been able to press Dijun so hard if you had not developed such a strong friendship with a mortal that either one of you would have died for the other. I am in your debt, Xiao Dianxia.’

‘It hurt in the moment, but that’s already in the past,’ Fengjiu shrugged with a smile. ‘And if you saw my friendship with Qingti, you know that most of it was good. Don’t worry about it, Si Ming, my uncles have already promised to spoil me.’

At this, Si Ming Chuckled and leaned toward her to confess with amusement, ‘I doubt that anything I could offer you would compare to the great feats that one of your uncles can achieve – or the elegance that the other can.’

Fengjiu nodded, grinning. She was well aware of her Fourth Uncle’s skill in crafting beautiful hairpins and other fancy things, and knew of Zhe Yan’s reputation as an Ancient with mysterious powers. Suddenly she paused, though, the breath fleeing from her lungs. She turned to Si Ming and asked, ‘Could I make any request of you?’

Si Ming arched his eyebrows and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Within reason, of course, Xiao Dianxia,’ he acknowledged with a slight smirk, as if he’d been waiting for her to realize just how much it was within his power to grant.

‘Qingti…’ she began. Encouraged by the twinkle in Si Ming’s eye, Fengjiu asked, ‘Could you send someone to keep Qingti company? Someone who will make him happy?’

A broad, knowing smile stretched across Si Ming’s face. ‘If this is your wish, I can make it so for Qingti. And it is the kind of generous wish I would have expected from you, Xiao Dianxia.’

‘Generous? I don’t know who will be happier, Qingti or me?’ Fengjiu beamed, elated that Si Ming was willing to write a little happiness into Qingti’s script.

And so it was, when Si Ming invited Fengjiu to return to the mortal realm three days later – or three years later for Qingti – she was able to watch Qingti’s wedding to a warm, lively young woman who had grown up in another military family in the kingdom and therefore understood the life of a general. She wasn’t a dramatic beauty, but what Fengjiu liked about her was her good-natured personality and devotion to Qingti.

‘She’s perfect for him,’ Fengjiu complimented Si Ming as they stood side-by-side and watched the festive celebration held at the Ye family’s ancestral estate. It was the first time Fengjiu had ever seen Qingti’s mother and father, and she smiled to see the two of them so happy for their son as well.

Si Ming nodded and smiled with satisfaction. ‘Although he will experience the usual hardships of mortal life, the worst is behind Ye Qingti. For the most part, his life will be happy. Much happier than Song Xuanren’s.’

Fengjiu sighed. ‘I know. His life will be one misery after another, with no room for happiness, all in the interest of restoring Dijun’s cultivation. Good medicine tastes bitter.*’

‘Oh, it will be worse than that,’ Si Ming corrected her. ‘There will be happiness around him. The happy marriage and family life that Song Xuanren yearns for will be right in front of him, in Ye Qingti’s household. Don’t worry, Xiao Dianxia, the Emperor will not harm your friend. Since your death, Song Xuanren has sworn never to act out of jealousy again.’

A pained smile twitched at Fengjiu’s lips. Her death had wounded Song Xuanren deeply, it seemed…

‘My uncles are taking me on a tour of the Western Sea tomorrow,’ Fengjiu murmured, her eyes damp. ‘I think I’m done with the mortal realm for now. Thank you, Si Ming…I learned a lot.’

Si Ming bowed deeply to her. ‘No, Xiao Dianxia, thank you.’

Chapter Text

Roses, irises, and orchids swirled above Fengjiu’s head in a magnificent kaleidescope of color, surging and shifting in a stunningly precise choreography. Blue and white and yellow and red and crimson-trimmed peach burst in diamond clusters, then expanding rings, then cascading showers. Enchanted, she gazed up at them and felt her spirit soaring among the petals. It was a such a beautiful work of magic.

When it was done, a confident goddess stepped to the center of the white sand beach and bowed to enthusiastic applause from the assembled immortals. Fengjiu was impressed that someone who looked barely older than she was could have orchestrated something so intricate. She clapped her hands along with everyone else.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fengjiu spied her Uncle Bai Zhen watching her and smiling. She turned and grinned at him.  

‘Thank you for this entire week, uncle,’ Fengjiu said.

Bai Zhen leaned his head close and promised, ‘The Western Sea is just the beginning of our tour of the immortal realms. Zhe Yan and I have more diversions planned for you, Xiao Jiu.’

True to Bai Zhen’s promise, he and Zhe Yan took her out sailing to waters just beyond a reef where she could swim and explore schools of fish just as colorful as the flower show she had seen. The underwater seascape was ethereally beautiful and about as distant from the mortal realm as Fengjiu could be. It did distract Fengjiu from all that she had gone through and reminded her that her immortal life spanned many different horizons. Yet it was too soon for anything to dim the memories of her time in the mortal realm.

Her uncles did their best, though.

That evening, there was a banquet in the Western Sea King’s palace, with the most exquisite fish dishes Fengjiu had ever tasted and wine that tasted like melancholy music. Fengjiu loved all of it.

But she was also getting tired. That surprised her. She’d gained energy due to her experiences in the mortal realm, and she could drink more and longer than most of the immortals here, save her own family.

‘It’s the sea air,’ Zhe Yan explained when she yawned. ‘It’s invigorating, but can also stimulate a need for rest. You can go back to our suite if you’d like.’

Before her experiences in Dijun’s mortal trial, Fengjiu would have resisted any suggestion that she leave a party early. It was a point of pride for many in her family to be the last ones to leave a banquet. But now, Zhe Yan’s suggestion gave Fengjiu an idea. She could try out a spell she’d learned in one of her classes years ago but had never had any reason to use. One that enabled an immortal to visit the mortal realm in their dreams…

She could peek in on Qingti and Song Xuanren again as nothing more than a glimmer of spiritual energy. And it had been over a week since her last visit.

So, Fengjiu excused herself and slipped away from the banquet. She made her way back toward the suite she shared with Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen, through a vaulted hallway lined with columns of delicate, pale coral interspersed with vividly green sea grass framing windows to the peaceful seascape. Further ahead of her, in the soft glow of pearl lamps, Fengjiu saw a goddess robed in the pale blue of a Qingqiu sky. The goddess seemed to be close to Fengjiu’s own age, making Fengjiu feel less like a party pooper for leaving early.

Someone else is leaving the banquet early, too.

To Fengjiu’s surprise, the goddess abruptly spun around while shouting, ‘Stop following me, Lian Song!’ And she was holding a plate of fruit.

Of course, Fengjiu was not Lian Song at all, so she and the other goddess blinked at each other for a few moments. Fengjiu recognized her as the artist who had created the beautiful, floral ballet that had been such a delight to watch.

‘Er…excuse me…I thought you were someone else,’ the goddess apologized, smiling awkwardly in embarrassment.

Very used to getting herself into embarrassing situations, Fengjiu smiled reassuringly back at her. ‘I’m not the Third Prince. But I really enjoyed your flowers!’

Relaxing, the goddess grinned and bowed slightly. ‘Thanks. I’m Chengyu. Flowers are my specialty.’

Fengjiu’s eyes widened in delight at the coincidence. ‘Chengyu? Your name really is Chengyu?’

‘Is that so strange?’ Chengyu asked.

Unable to stop grinning, Fengjiu shook her head and said, ‘No…I just…know a place called Chengyu.’

‘Hmm…’ Chengyu considered, before firing back, ‘Is it as pretty as me?’

At this, Fengjiu laughed. ‘No. Well, maybe parts of it. I’m Fengjiu.’

‘Care for some fruit, Fengjiu? Only….be careful which one you choose,’ Chengyu offered, extending the silver platter she carried and winking mischievously at Fengjiu.

‘Why? Are they poison?’ Fengjiu whispered, not terribly frightened but enjoying how carefree Chengyu was.

‘Not poison, exactly. The purple ones are Zikong fruit. They’ll make you drunk – among other things…’

‘I forgot to give you my full name. I’m Bai Fengjiu. Trust me, I’m not worried about getting drunk, it’s a family hobby,’ Fengjiu laughed. ‘But we can’t just get drunk here in the hallway.’

‘Hmph. Well, I can’t go back to my suite. The rat who gave me these fruits is probably laying in wait for me there, hoping to take advantage,’ Chengyu grumbled.

Fengjiu decided against asking who this salacious cad was, and instead offered, ‘Why don’t you come to my suite. My uncles will be at the banquet for hours more.’

And just like that, Fengjiu made a new friend. It was exactly what she needed while she was coming to terms that her friend Qingti was mortal and she would have to let him go.

In her suite, she and Chengyu shared the fruit, including the Zikong fruit, along with some wine, and sat giggling over their own lives while they relaxed on the driftwood divan in the main lounge area. At one point, though, the decadent fruits and liquor began to affect Fengjiu and she slipped into a dazed, waking dream. It was brief, so brief that Chengyu didn’t even notice and was still talking about the same topic – how disappointing Third Prince Lian Song was – when Fengjiu regained her senses.

But the daydream rattled Fengjiu more than a little.

Her suite in the Western Sea faded away and for a few moments, she was back in the kingdom of Chengyu. Not with Qingti, but with Song Xuanren.

Just holding him at first.

Then he nudged his face against hers and the moment seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. Fengjiu had never kissed anyone in her life…

…she didn’t know why the impulse seized her…

Unless it was the way Song Xuanren’s eyes, heavy with misery, looked to her for hope.

She only caressed his face at first.

Then he rested his palm against her cheek and leaned closer until the breath passed from his lips into hers. So close, yet holding back…as if he no longer trusted in his chance at love.

So, it was Fengjiu who bridged the gap and pressed her lips to his.

At first.

But in the hazy dream, Song Xuanren’s body came alive and pressed against hers with a passion that forced the breath out of her. Their legs tangled as the two of them kneaded each other’s arms until their robes loosened. A fever gripped Fengjiu as she desired nothing more than to give Dijun’s mortal incarnation what had for so long been denied to him.

But a moment later, Fengjiu was looking around her suite in a stupor, confused and flushed, while Chengyu mumbled slurred insults about Lian Song. The two of them were sprawled drunkenly and very inelegantly across the driftwood divan.

‘B-blankets….maid….hey….blankets…’ Fengjiu called out randomly, not remembering the name of the two maids who had been assigned to serve her and her uncles. However, she was still sober enough to realize that Chengyu was drunk enough that she probably shouldn’t walk back to her own suite.

‘Dianxia?’ asked the blue-robed maid who responded to Fengjiu’s incoherent summons.

‘Chengyu is…my guest. Sheez…stay…here,’ Fengjiu attempted to explain, rapping her hand on the divan. ‘Blankets…need blankets.’

‘Yes, Dianxia,’ the maid acknowledged. The young maiden scurried away and returned shortly with a couple of white duvets, as lustrous as pearls.

The maid draped them over Fengjiu and Chengyu, who were already beginning to doze. And Fengjiu slipped back into her fevered dream of Song Xuanren…

…although his hair had become silver.

Chapter Text

There was a foot in her face.

When Fengjiu’s eyes creaked open in the morning, the first thing she saw were delicate toes. She raised her head and realized that she and Chengyu had fallen asleep on the divan. The platter on the nearby table held scattered remnants of devoured fruit – empty vines, dried-out cores, pits, seeds, and discarded skins. An empty wine bottle and two cups lay on their sides. Nearby candles had all burned down into waxy puddles.

Although Fengjiu’s head didn’t hurt or feel woozy, she reeled at the dream she’d had last night.

Far, far too many erotic images of Dijun! What was that about?

She’d gotten over that childish crush. She had! Zhe Yan had cured her of it with his tales of the hundreds upon hundreds of women Dijun had tossed out of his bed in ancient times, having shown no interest in any of them, nor in anything to do with love since then.

A sudden movement on the floor near where her foot dangled off the bed ripped a shriek from Fengjiu’s mouth and she jerked her foot up onto the bed and under the duvet.

A tiny, red crab skittered sideways on the floor, dragging a slice of orange with it.

‘What?! Who’s there?! I’ll smash your face if you don’t scram, Lian—’ Chengyu blurted out, disoriented as she sat up with a start. Slowly, she wiped her hand across her face and blinked bleary eyes.

‘I’m not doing that again.’ ‘What a night.’ The two women declared at the same time.

Fengjiu looked at Chengyu and they burst out laughing together.

‘What was in those fruits?’ Fengjiu wondered. She vaguely remembered reading about Zikong fruit in her botany lessons with Zhe Yan, but he hadn’t said anything about them being so….toxic.

‘They shouldn’t have been so strong,’ Chengyu grumbled. ‘Usually, Zikong fruit just stir up light daydreams. I’ll bet that sneaky playboy hexed them.’

‘Eh….j-just daydreams?’ Fengjiu asked warily, her cheeks flushing at the mere thought of what her dreams had cooked up last night.

‘Winning a contest. Someone you like flirting with you. A banquet with your favorite foods. Finding a treasure,’ Chengyu listed off several innocent examples.

They were nothing like the carnal escapades in Fengjiu’s nocturnal fantasies.

‘I think mine were more intense,’ Fengjiu admitted, tugging at the collar of her already disheveled robes.

‘Oh, I don’t doubt it. So were mine,’ Chengyu agreed, her vengeful, calculating scowl promising retribution against a particular miscreant. ‘I think that crafty loverboy was hoping to get me in the right mood, so he boosted the potency…’

‘S-so…none of that was really…’ Fengjiu stammered, not wanting to admit what she’d dreamed and hoping dearly that the steamy dream of Dijun had all been a drug-induced, magically enhanced flight of fancy that had nothing to do with her.

Chengyu sighed and relaxed against the arm of the divan. ‘At heart, some part of it was. Zikong fruit magnifies a pleasant impression in your mind. For example, a good meal you’re eating. It just exaggerates all the sensations. But this…this was way beyond that. Somebody definitely added a little oomph….’

Fengjiu cringed. Crap.

How did pity for Song Xuanren turn into….?

…into an endless night of intimacy…and some things Fengjiu didn’t even know people could do…

‘I think I’ll go bathe and get some breakfast. How about you?’ Fengjiu suggested, feeling an urgent need to move past this.

Her plan for today had been to visit Chengyu – the other Chengyu in the mortal realm. Fengjiu hoped that last night’s…ahem…unusual dreams wouldn’t affect her ability to perform the spell that would allow her to descend to the mortal world in a dream. She could always just visit in person, behind an invisibility shield, but she had thought that keeping her physical distance would help her start to let go of things.

‘I hear the Western Sea has amazing natural baths set amid tidepools just outside the palace,’ Chengyu suggested. Fengjiu smiled and nodded. That would be indulgent but wholesome.

As the two of them headed toward the baths, Fengjiu noticed that the sun was much higher than she’d expected. Had they slept the whole morning away?

But just as they stepped out into the fresh air and blue sky, a white-clad, older immortal greeted them. Fengjiu recognized Third Prince Lian Song, who had been at Dijun’s bedside when Zhe Yan had treated the weakened Emperor.

‘Good morning ladies,’ said Lian Song, smiling more innocently than Fengjiu thought he deserved to. ‘It is a lovely day for a walk. Perhaps I may accompany you?’

‘A walk?!’ Chengyu glared at him. ‘I think it’s a better day for bashing in your face, you miserable scoundrel!’

‘Oh?’ Lian Song had the nerve to grin slyly while feigning ignorance of any trouble. Fengjiu honestly didn’t know how he managed to combine both expressions – and she was a queen of mischief, herself! ‘Chengyu, do you really want to trouble the peace of the Western Sea with violence, hmm?’

Teasingly, the Third Prince stretched his folded fan out toward Chengyu’s nose.

A sudden gust of air and the sharp, decisive opening of a fan startled Fengjiu as a creased paper arc painted with peach blossoms and an elegant, white, nine-tailed fox cut between Chengyu, Fengjiu, and Lian Song.

With a grand sweep of his hand that came within a hair’s breadth of scraping his fan against Lian Song’s nose, Zhe Yan began fanning himself at a leisurely pace that belied his forceful interruption. Fengjiu had to cover her mouth with her hand since she was utterly unable to stop a huge grin from bursting forth. There stood her two uncles, side-by-side in a united front, staring down Lian Song. She really adored them in this moment.

Just try outdoing a phoenix in dramatic displays…Fengjiu giggled inwardly.

‘What a coincidence, Zhen-Zhen and I were just about to take a walk. Perhaps you would join us?’ Zhe Yan suggested, his eyebrow arched with mild challenge even as he and Bai Zhen maintained their ever-gracious poise.

Lian Song’s expression somehow managed to droop around an unchanging, broad smile. He said nothing, just let out a non-committal hmm, while glancing at Chengyu. Fengjiu could see the wheels spinning in his mind.

‘You were still asleep when we left the rooms this morning, Xiao Jiu,’ her Fourth Uncle Bai Zhen observed smoothly. ‘We didn’t want to wake you, but it may mean that you haven’t had the chance to refresh yourself this morning. Perhaps you are not yet ready for company?’

‘Right, uncle,’ Fengjiu readily agreed, flashing Bai Zhen and Zhe Yan a broad smile of gratitude. Her eyes twinkled with mirth at their ruthless interference with Lian Song. She turned to Chengyu and looped her arm through the other goddess’s elbow. ‘Come on, let’s go wash up.’

As they pushed past Lian Song, Chengyu kicked him in the ankle. Lian Song doubled over and hissed.

Behind her, Fengjiu could hear Zhe Yan asking, ‘Oh, do you want me to look at that for you?’

Fengjiu loved, loved, loved her uncles.

‘Overbearing playboy!’ Chengyu huffed.

Fengjiu enjoyed the luxurious, cool, springwater baths that were nestled amid the saltwater tidepools along the shore. Gauzy curtains provided privacy while still allowing bathers to admire the colorful anemones and starfish in the tidepools. Even with Chengyu’s periodic grumbling about Lian Song’s persistent, sneaky attempts to seduce her – or, as Chengyu put it, ‘make her one more conquest in a long, long line – Fengjiu found the bath calming. It was just what she needed after those dreams.

She enjoyed a leisurely brunch of rice, roasted fish, and clear fish broth with Chengyu – each of them avoiding the bowl of fruit that accompanied the meal. When they had finished, Fengjiu begged off spending the next few hours with Chengyu so that she could first perform the spell that would let her dream-visit the mortal realm. They agreed to meet in early evening for a performance of flute music by the Second Prince of the Western Sea.

Although Fengjiu could have returned to her suite, she didn’t want to have to explain to her uncles why she was sleeping again. It wasn’t that Fengjiu worried that they would scold her…just that her connection to Chengyu felt very…personal. So, she chose to disappear into the rainforest further in from the shore, find a nice plant with broad, thick leaves that would conceal her, and transform into her nine-tailed fox form. She curled up on the ground and set about casting her spell.

It was actually very simple to loosen her spirit from her body and allow it to wander. Fengjiu had also spent so much time in the mortal kingdom of Chengyu that her spirit seemed to know the way with little guidance. She wondered what she would find, though. She had spent over a week in the Western Sea kingdom, so it must have been a good ten years since her last visit.

Maybe Qingti and his wife had children?

That thought made Fengjiu smile.

At the same time, it made her worry because of its counterpart. Qingti might have children…but that was less likely for Song Xuanren.

As Fengjiu entered Qingti’s home, she was unsurprised to see a large family seated around the dinner table: Qingti, his wife, and four children! Three boys and a little girl.

No…wait! Five children! It looked like Qingti’s wife carried a tiny, tiny newborn in a sling across her front.

‘Xiao Jiu, your little brother needs to go relieve himself. Take him to the back, okay?’ Qingti’s wife was saying.

‘Yes, ma,’ the eldest boy obeyed, getting up from his seat at the dinner table and holding his hand out to help a small boy of maybe three or four years.

If Fengjiu had been in her body, she might have cried.

Xiao Jiu.

Qingti had named his firstborn son Xiao Jiu.

She suddenly wished she hadn’t been so determined to put her mortal experiences behind her and make a clean break. How much she had missed! She had a namesake!

Fengjiu watched her friend’s family share their simple yet hearty meal of pork, rice, and vegetables. Her happiness at seeing the frequent smiles on Qingti’s face won out over her worry at the hint of wrinkles around his eyes and the strands of gray in his hair. Just a few, but they were unwelcome reminders of Qingti’s mortality.

As the family played together in the evening, Fengjiu learned that Qingti’s wife’s name was Meili*, Xiao Jiu was nine, the next son was seven year-old Qiangwei*, then five year-old Weiguo*, and the little daughter, Jiayi*, who was three. But they hadn’t named the newborn yet, and Fengjiu couldn’t even tell if it was a boy or a girl.

She soon learned the reason that Qingti and Meili had been waiting.

After the children had gone to bed, right as Fengjiu was considering leaving, a knock came at the door. Qingti exchanged a look with Meili, who was rocking the newborn in her arms, before going to the door. It was one of the new recruits Fengjiu remembered training, only he was now a seasoned veteran.

‘It is not going well for Lady Chunhua,’ the guard said. Qingti nodded and the guard left as quickly as he had come.

Who was Lady Chunhua? Fengjiu wondered.

But Qingti was already crossing the room to Meili. He gently gripped her arms and gazed tenderly into her eyes. ‘We don’t have to do this. I don’t even know what the Emperor will say.’

Meili raised her hand to caress Qingti’s cheek, a loving, familiar gesture that Fengjiu could imagine this mortal woman having done thousands of times. ‘It was my idea, Qing’er. If we offend, we will make amends. But think of our son’s future if this will heal that poor man.’

A sad, sober smile curved Qingti’s mouth and he nodded. ‘We may be challenging fate, but His Majesty has suffered more than his fair share in this life. And we have been so blessed.’

Fengjiu followed them as they slipped out of their home and instructed the guards posted at the door to keep watch over their sleeping children. Meili had covered herself with a cloak, concealing their newborn son beneath it. And when they reached the harem quarters, Qingti and his wife did not enter through the main gate, as Fengjiu would have expected them to. For some reason, he guided Meili through back passages known only to a senior officer like himself. As they proceeded through dark, unlit corridors, sounds began to reach Fengjiu.

Agonized, strained moans. The worried fussing of several women. Orders from a physician.

And Song Xuanren demanding to know what was happening.

‘Wait here,’ Qingti whispered to Meili.

In spirit form, Fengjiu was already rushing ahead of Qingti into the softly lit private chambers of Lady Chunhua, but she had already understood what she would see. There, on the bed, was a young woman in labor, sweaty and exhausted, her face contorted with effort….surrounded by attendants who looked desperate.

And rightly so. Lady Chunhua was deathly pale. She had lost too much blood. It was as if Fengjiu could see the thread of this mortal woman’s life about to be cut short.

Removed from the birthing bed, but still nearby, Song Xuanren paced in agitation as doom shrouded his eyes.

Song Xuanren had finally turned to a woman other than Zhou Mengxi to carry on his line, Fengjiu thought. And Si Ming must have seen another opportunity to strengthen Dijun’s cultivation. But at such a cost to the mortals! A concubine – and likely her child – dead. Worse yet, if Song Xuanren never managed to produce an heir, then civil war and the collapse of a kingdom.

That was when she realized why Qingti and his wife were here.

Lady Chunhua was the first to die. Her body simply gave out after having struggled to give birth to a child who was desperately wanted. Song Xuanren abandoned propriety and came to kneel at her bedside, pleading with her to live as he held her limp hand.

When it was clear there was no hope, the haggard Emperor choked out, ‘And my child?’

‘Your Majesty, I deserve death for my incompetence. The child is still lodged within its mother – we could not bring it out,’ the Imperial Physician lamented, his head pressed to the floor. All the attendants and servants likewise pressed their heads to the floor, despondent at having failed at such a crucial moment.

Song Xuanren looked defeated, but not surprised, as if misfortune had followed him so closely in his life that he expected it. ‘All of you, get out,’ he commanded quietly, still holding this new concubine’s hand.

For several, long moments, Song Xuanren sat there in silence. He didn’t sob or cry, he just stared at his unfortunate concubine in a stupor.

And then a floorboard creaked.

‘I said get out,’ Song Xuanren muttered.

‘Your Majesty, this is a great loss,’ Qingti greeted him. ‘We who serve you will help you bear it.’

‘I am a curse, Qingti,’ Song Xuanren coughed grimly. ‘This poor woman. She would have lived a long life if she had never entered the palace. But I ruin the lives of those closest to me.’

‘I have dedicated my life to you, Your Majesty, and I have had good fortune,’ Qingti countered. ‘And…I would ask something of you, but I fear I will offend.’

‘Say it,’ Song Xuanren murmured numbly.

‘Heaven has blessed Meili and I with another son,’ Qingti began. ‘But we had no attendants at the birth. Only the children have seen our child alive. Would Your Majesty…do us the honor of raising him as your own?’

At this, Song Xuanren stiffened and turned his astonished face to Qingti. ‘This is your own son, Qingti,’ the Emperor breathed in awe.

Nodding, Qingti acknowledged, ‘Meili and I spoke of this. A child is more precious than a parent’s own life. We do not give him up lightly. But Lady Chunhua has died – Meili could raise the boy as his nurse, and he would still be able to play with his brothers and sister. And you would have an heir.’

Song Xuanren regarded Qingti wordlessly. His hands shook. When his brow began to furrow, Qingti fell to his knees and said, ‘I deserve death for implying that you could not father an heir on your own. Please punish me.’

But Song Xuanren closed his eyes, raised his hand, and shook his head. ‘Qingti, you offer me the greatest gift I could ever receive. This is a debt I will never be able to repay.’

Fengjiu saw hope light up Qingti’s eyes. ‘Pay with your life. Every day. By being a good father to him.’

Tearfully, Song Xuanren attempted to bow to Qingti, but Qingti stopped him. Instead, the two men gripped each other on the upper arms – every bit as much sworn brothers as Xiao Jiu had been with Qingti years ago. Fengjiu was so happy that she wished she could cry, but she was just a spirit here.

The switch was made quickly and quietly. Meili temporarily bid goodbye to her infant son, assured by Song Xuanren and Qingti both that the babe would soon be back in her arms when she was “summoned” to the palace to serve as nurse to the Emperor’s son, who had “miraculously” survived his mother’s death in childbirth. It was almost too much for Fengjiu to bear, and she began to wonder which was worse – a night under the influence of Zikong fruit, or a single day in the life of Song Xuanren.

Which led her to be curious about Zhou Mengxi. It was odd that Fengjiu hadn’t seen her anywhere. Even if Zhou Mengxi felt nothing for Song Xuanren, an Empress would normally be nearby, awaiting the news of an Imperial child’s birth. Did she shun the entire palace?

Fengjiu let herself drift to the Empress’s hall, but discovered that the building was deserted. No lanterns hung anywhere and the doors and windows were shut up tight. It was eerily still.

What happened here? Fengjiu wondered.

‘Zhou Mengxi took her own life.’

Without a physical body here, Fengjiu couldn’t physically jump out of her skin, but Si Ming’s sudden pronouncement still left Fengjiu’s mind reeling. He stood beside her, also in spiritual form. Nodding toward the closed doors, he gestured for her to follow him. Together, they passed through the wall into the dark, empty hall. Even the moonlight barely filtered into Zhou Mengxi’s quarters.

‘When did it happen?’ Fengjiu asked.

‘Just over a year ago. On the tenth anniversary of Xiao Jiu’s death. Zhou Mengxi was deeply unhappy in the palace. So, without giving any sign of her plan, on that day, she visited your shrine, then took a horse from the stables, rode out to a nearby cliff, and leaped to her death,’ Si Ming explained.

Fengjiu was aghast. ‘Is that what you wrote for her?!?’

With a gloomy, bitter smile, Si Ming answered, ‘I wrote only that she would be unhappily bound to Song Xuanren for the duration of her life. Mortals have some leeway in the choices they make. Although I did not command her to die at that time, it had a profound effect on Song Xuanren. He nearly let himself die of a broken heart.’

Fengjiu shuddered at the thought. It would have led to all the terrible consequences she had imagined before. Civil war…likely invasion by Chong’an…

‘What stopped him?’ she asked.

‘Ye Qingti,’ said Si Ming. ‘Your mortal friend saw it as repaying a debt he owed Song Xuanren, for not letting him surrender to despair when you died. Helping each other overcome the death of the ones they loved most in this world has forged a bond between the two of them.’

‘So…you’ll allow a few, rare bright moments in Song Xuanren’s life,’ Fengjiu murmured, smiling sadly.

‘Don’t blame me, Xiao Dianxia,’ Si Ming chuckled, sharing this sad reflection with her. ‘In the short span of a mortal life, I have had to restore the cultivation of the mightiest god among us. I have never faced a challenge so great. But Dijun has responded perfectly to every misfortune. Even now, as a mortal ruler, he has let go of his own pride, let go the desire of powerful men to hold onto power, and accepted that his own line will not continue. While he was grieving the death of a woman who had given him comfort after the loss of his one, true love, Song Xuanren put the needs of his kingdom ahead of the urge to preserve his family line. Indeed, I have beaten down Song Xuanren as I have rarely done to any other mortal – and he has struggled to make the virtuous choice as often as he could.’

A terrible forboding gripped Fengjiu. She turned to Si Ming and pleaded, ‘You won’t take Qingti’s son from him, will you Si Ming? Please tell me you won’t!’

Si Ming shook his head and smiled reassuringly at her. ‘I’ve already written a long and prosperous reign for Qingti’s son. Song Weisheng*, as he will be known, will be the longest-lived Emperor of Chengyu in five generations, and will finally subdue Chong’an and absorb it into his kingdom.’

‘That’s good,’ Fengjiu sighed with relief.

‘Dijun has almost fully recovered,’ Si Ming observed. ‘Although Song Xuanren will live another twenty years, there are few other miseries I have planned for him. He has already endured the worst of his misfortunes. He was separated from his parents and then the woman he loved by death. He was forced to resent you out of jealousy, even though he knew it was wrong. He will not continue the Empire himself, but must borrow Qingti’s own good fortune to do so. And no matter how much pain it caused him, his heart has never been able to let go of Zhou Mengxi.’

‘So, he’ll be able to be a good father,’ Fengjiu smiled, glad that this one happiness remained for Song Xuanren in the later years of his life.

Si Ming nodded. ‘Song Xuanren will be an excellent and devoted father. Just as Ye Qingti will be an excellent mentor to the son he cannot claim from here on. And Song Weisheng will always look on Meili as a true mother, in spite of the fiction that is being proclaimed to the Emperor’s officials and servants as we speak.’

‘I think I’ll be bawling when I wake up,’ Fengjiu murmured. ‘And I was having such fun with Chengyu. We’re still supposed to hear the Second Prince of the Western Sea play his flute.’

Si Ming’s mood perked up with startling ease after the somber conversation he and Fengjiu had just had. ‘Ah! You’re at the Western Sea? If I might ask a favor, Xiao Dianxia – would you mind bringing some of Su Moye’s special Bifuchun tea to me in Heaven Kingdom…?’

Chapter Text

A sweet, somewhat melancholy melody lapped at the air with the gentleness of waves inching onto the shore. Fengjiu sat between Zhe Yan to her left and Chengyu to her right, letting her mind wander while Su Moye breathed enchantment into his simple, bamboo flute. The sun was slowly beginning its descent to the horizon, streaking the blue sky with afterthoughts of peach and coral.

Su Moye finished his performance just as a brilliant sunset lit the sky in a radiant bonfire of orange and gold. Fengjiu clapped along with all the other immortals, but after her visit to the mortal realm, she was feeling restless. She couldn’t exactly explain it, except that she had grown so used to being active as Xiao Jiu, and was now lounging around on cushions on the seashore.

You’re just a wild fox, she chided herself. You couldn’t sit still in school, either.

Fengjiu would have slipped away with her new friend, Chengyu, except for the fact that Si Ming had asked for some of Su Moye’s special blend of tea, and Su Moye had agreed to let her, Zhe Yan, and Bai Zhen taste it. So, she would have to sit through his tea preparation and the conversation that usually made tea tasting drag on for hours.

But, to Fengjiu’s surprise, it was actually interesting.

For one thing, she learned that Su Moye was much older than he looked.

‘You studied at Kunlun? When?’ Fengjiu asked as he poured freshly brewed tea into cups for them all.

Zhe Yan, who sat on a cushion beside her, rapped his knuckle against Fengjiu’s forehead and chided, ‘How can you not know this? Didn’t your Gu Gu tell you stories about Kunlun?’

‘Of course she did,’ Fengjiu protested, gingerly lifting her cup and blowing on the steaming, fragrant liquid. ‘But she never mentioned a Su Moye.’

‘Dian Xia, your aunt, Seventeen, knew me by my personal name,’ Su Moye explained with a smile. ‘My formal name as a member of the royal family of the Western Sea is Su Moye. But in Kunlun, Master Mo Yuan and my fellow disciples called me Die Feng.’

Fengjiu gaped rather rudely and almost blurted out that he couldn’t possibly be so old, but Zhe Yan pinched her on the knee to prevent her from being so ill-mannered.

‘You studied with my Gu Gu? Were you at the Battle of Ruoshui,’ Fengjiu squeaked out instead.

Su Moye nodded soberly. ‘It was a bleak time in my life, when we thought we had lost Mo Yuan forever. When he returned, I would have been prepared to serve him for the rest of my life, in gratitude to Fate for having spared him. But then my father summoned me here to learn how to rule. He had decided that my elder brother required a more tranquil existence than is permitted to those who sit on a throne.’

As they all shared the pot of tea, Su Moye talked of his travels to learn more about the realms, since Zhe Yan had pointed out that he and Bai Zhen were taking Fengjiu on a tour of a few immortal kingdoms.

‘The strangest place I visited was definitely the Fanyin Valley,’ Su Moye explained as servants cleared away the tea, replaced them with a bottle of wine, and began lighting nearby lanterns.

‘How did you get in? I thought the valley was sealed to protect the fragile environment there,’ Bai Zhen asked.

‘Father had asked Dijun permission for me to enter many years ago,’ Su Moye answered, ‘At that time, Dijun advised him that every sixty years, the valley opened for a brief time. I was then instructed by an immortal named Zhonglin about the incantation that would allow me to make my way in. It was only just a few months ago that I visited.’

‘Why do you say it was strange?’ Chengyu asked. ‘What was so strange about it?’

‘It is because its nature seems to have changed so suddenly,’ Su Moye explained. He saw that Zhe Yan’s cup of wine was empty and refilled it. ‘I had heard that the Fanyin Valley was a mild, gentle land of delicate beauty. Yet, when I entered, snow and ice were all that I saw. The people living there confirmed that their home had once been pleasant. Many of them believed the valley had recently fallen under a curse, but none could say how or why.’

Fengjiu hadn’t heard of such a thing, and that valley bordered on Qingqiu. ‘Uncle, did you know about this?’ she asked her Fourth Uncle Bai Zhen. ‘Has grandfather said anything about it?’

Bai Zhen shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Not a word. And the last that I had heard of the realm of the Biyi bird tribe, they were living in a paradise.’

‘Perhaps Heaven Kingdom will choose to investigate it,’ Zhe Yan remarked without much urgency.

‘Indeed, I had expected Dijun to descend into the valley when I did,’ Su Moye agreed. ‘His steward, Zhonglin, had given me the impression that Dijun checked the valley each time it opened. But he did not appear.’

Fengjiu said nothing and merely sipped her wine. She made eye contact with Zhe Yan, who was also savoring his wine without responding to Su Moye’s comment. She was actually surprised when Chengyu spoke up.

‘Dijun is known in Heaven Kingdom for doing as he pleases. Even when it comes to attending Tianjun’s court.’

The conversation easily turned to a different topic and Fengjiu wondered how much longer it would be until Dijun awakened from his mortal trial. She had to think it would be a month at most.

As she would discover, Dijun awakened just over two weeks later.

Just long enough for Qingti’s son to reach adulthood.

She had accompanied Chengyu to Heaven Kingdom, asking her uncles if they could continue their planned travels a little later. Chengyu had invited her to come stay at her palace and Fengjiu knew it was because her new friend wanted to keep Third Prince Lian Song at bay while she prepared an encore of her flower ballet for the Heavenly court. Fengjiu enjoyed her time with Chengyu immensely, although as soon as her father heard that she was in Heaven Kingdom, he sent word that there were a few more bachelors he would arrange for her to meet. There were plenty of immortals who had lingered for months after Gu Gu’s and Ye Hua’s wedding banquet, and Fengjiu’s father argued that she should take advantage of the opportunity.

Fengjiu had arrived an hour early at the lotus pond where she was due to meet her blind date to give herself some time to game out how she would chase off this one if she didn’t like him. Her mind started wandering though as she remembered what she’d heard about the pure, white lotus flowers in this pond.

They bloomed from the hearts of mortals.

Would there be a flower for Qingti in another week or two?

‘Where will you go next, I wonder?’ Fengjiu mused, her eyes moistening as she thought of the long journey ahead of her friend. One that she hoped would lead him to immortality. ‘Out of so many worlds and so many lives, where will you go? Will I see you here soon…and will you remember Chengyu?’

‘Chengyu? What do you know of Chengyu?’

It was a voice that was more familiar to her now than it had been just a few weeks ago, but Fengjiu was still shocked to hear it. When had Dijun awakened from his mortal trial?

She rose from her seat turned around slowly, giving herself time to think of a response.

It really was Donghua Dijun – and then some.

Foregoing his usual purple robes, he was clad only in white and his face was radiant. Fengjiu squinted until her eyes adjusted to the sight of him.

‘Bai Fengjiu greets Donghua Dijun,’ she said, bowing her head slightly. ‘And, ah…I….I am just getting to know Chengyu. She and I met in the Western Sea. I was…just…thinking up a poem for…her birthday….’

Dijun studied Fengjiu intently without speaking for several moments.

‘Chengyu…the goddess who has addled Lian Song’s mind?’ he asked at last.

Fengjiu stifled a snort and grinned hugely. ‘The very same,’ she claimed, thankful that Dijun seemed to have accepted her explanation.

But Dijun’s gaze remained skeptical. His eyes mapped her face and her frame until Fengjiu understood that he was searching his memories.

Hadn’t Si Ming given him the water of amnesia?

Just as Dijun’s eyes narrowed in recognition and his mouth opened to speak, a male immortal who looked perhaps five or ten thousand years older than Fengjiu strolled around the corner of a nearby hedge, carrying a delicate bouquet of white peonies. He halted and the lighthearted smile on his face froze as he glanced between Fengjiu and Dijun.

Fengjiu tensed. That must be her date.

She glanced between the other male immortal and Dijun.

Dijun hardly spared him a glance. With a light flick of his hand, Dijun dismissed the would-be suitor, who awkwardly retreated.

‘You were Xiao Jiu,’ Dijun stated when Fengjiu’s date had gone. ‘What were you doing in my mortal trial?’

Fengjiu’s eyes widened and she clenched her fists.

How had he recognized her? Weren’t immortals supposed to forget all the details of their mortal trials?

‘I…I….ah….how did you know?’ Fengjiu stammered, caught off-guard by how acute Dijun’s powers of recollection seemed to be. This went against everything she’d ever been told about the difference between undergoing a mortal trial for therapeutic purposes and simply wandering the mortal realms as an immortal, after the fashion of her own family.

‘The mortal trial restored me to even greater power than I had beforehand,’ Dijun explained. He took a step forward, hesitated for a moment, then continued until he stood beside Fengjiu, gazing out over the lotus blooms on the pond’s surface. ‘Before he collapsed, Si Ming confessed that he was almost unable to contain my consciousness at the end. And you have not answered my question. What were you doing in my mortal trial?’

‘Si Ming--!’ Fengjiu exclaimed, but Dijun overruled her alarm.

‘—is fine, he is simply resting,’ Dijun stated. He stared at her expectantly and Fengjiu realized she was out of options for evading his question.

She took a deep breath and confessed, ‘Zhe Yan suggested that I go. At first, it was just to observe and learn a healing technique. I meant to keep to the side and not get involved at all. But…without meaning to…I became the obsession of a woman who was y—Song Xuanren’s own obsession.’

Dijun nodded, still staring out over the lotuses and not looking at her. ‘I read about that part of my misfortunes in Si Ming’s script. I did not know another immortal had been involved.’

‘Mm,’ Fengjiu acknowledged in the smallest, quietest hum possible.

They stood side-by-side without speaking for several more moments. Nothing in Dijun’s manner revealed any sign of anger or forgiveness. He was sublime serenity personified.

‘It was effective,’ Dijun said at last before walking away.

Only after he was fully out of sight did Fengjiu relax and exhale a sigh of relief.

She couldn’t tell if Dijun held any grudge against her or if he was simply back to being his usual, detached self. He hadn’t lashed out, though. If anything, he seemed thoughtful and almost melancholy.

And he said that Si Ming had collapsed!

Fengjiu worried about the elder immortal. Restoring Dijun’s cultivation through this mortal trial had been quite a feat. Fengjiu decided it was time to take Si Ming the bifuchun tea she had brought up from the Western Sea.

Chapter Text

Si Ming’s palace in Heaven Kingdom was more like a vast, open library. As Fengjiu approached with a pouch and a brewed pot of Su Moye’s bifuchun tea, she admired how simple and airy the palace was. It was the only one in Heaven Kingdom that lacked walls or guards to control access to the palace.

When Fengjiu had finally reached Si Ming where he rested on a divan beside a small reflecting pool, she thought he was napping. His eyes were closed and his breathing soft. Fengjiu thought maybe she could leave the pot on a nearby table, but as she set it down, Si Ming spoke.

‘The Second Prince of the Western Sea blends a delicate tea.’

Fengjiu poured him a cup of Su Moye’s bifuchun tea and set it on the table for him to drink at his leisure. ‘My Fourth Uncle complimented him when we drank it together a few days ago.’

Si Ming opened his eyes and, with a bit of effort, sat up to enjoy the tea. Worried for him, Fengjiu asked, ‘Would you like me to mix a fortifying tonic for you?’

Si Ming waved his hand dismissively and assured her, ‘I will be fine in another few weeks. My work is normally not so demanding, but this time it was Dijun. It was more than just the depth of his cultivation…Few others know how extensively Dijun’s power is entwined with the stability of the realms. Dijun needed to experience the bitterness of mortal existence more severely than any immortal for whom I have yet written a script, yet none of it could be allowed to affect his…other connections. You were very helpful with this, Xiao Dianxia.’

‘How could Dijun’s mortal trial have affected anything else in the realms?’ Fengjiu asked while she studied Si Ming for other signs about his health. He might not want a fortifying tonic, but she could always send something else over and have one of his serv—

Wait, she’d forgotten. Si Ming had no servants. Just some scribes who worked for him.

He lived so simply and had practically nothing except his vast library.

‘Dijun has put himself between the realms and many threats. You may be familiar with the many, ancient weapons he created, because they have been written about in the chronicles. What few know is that, alone or with the help of others, he has also tapped his own, extraordinary spiritual power to shield the realms from chaos and violence,’ Si Ming explained. ‘If he had been harmed, even in a mortal incarnation, it could have echoed everywhere Dijun maintained a presence. This is why I am grateful to you for discovering the threat posed by the demons. And for providing such a deep source of tension within Dijun’s mortal existence.’

Fengjiu’s brow furrowed and she decided Si Ming was strong enough for her to ask her question now.

‘Si Ming, Dijun recognized me as Xiao Jiu. Why did he recognize me? Hadn’t he taken the water of amnesia?’

Si Ming’s face slowly brightened with amusement. ‘Xiao Dianxia…if he recognized you…if you spoke to Dijun already, what did he say about this?’

Fengjiu’s mouth wrinkled awkwardly with embarrassment. She wasn’t a fool, she understood that Dijun most likely understood things as well or better than Si Ming. But she also had learned from Zhe Yan that Dijun didn’t share everything that he knew.

‘Si Ming, while Dijun said it was because the mortal trial had increased his power to the point that he remembered everything, I thought maybe there might be something more that you knew,’ Fengjiu pointed out, fiddling with her hands.

Now it was Si Ming’s turn to shake his head and smile sheepishly. ‘Do you know, I gave him five times the usual dose of the water of amnesia, expecting that it would take more than usual to affect Dijun? Even that was not enough,’ Si Ming chuckled. He took a long sip of bifuchun tea and sighed. ‘For years to come, I will look back on this trial as my masterpiece. His jealousy of you, while he also admired your true friendship with Ye Qingti, created a perfect cycle of misery.’

‘It took a lot out of you,’ Fengjiu chided sympathetically. ‘Are you sure you won’t let me prescribe something for you?’

Si Ming shook his head again and insisted, ‘Rest is all I need. I have had my scribes take over the writing of mortal destinies for now. Don’t worry over me, Xiao Dianxia.’

After visiting for a little longer, Fengjiu left, feeling mildly giddy that she had taken part in the mortal trial that Si Ming would forever consider his masterpiece. It was only supposed to be another of Zhe Yan’s many lessons in healing, but Fengjiu had gained so much. Not just the knowledge. Experience – powerful experience that had changed her. And a friend – one she hoped to see again someday as an immortal.

And…

Fengjiu’s heart twitched momentarily. She took a deep breath and dismissed a feeling that had been lapping in her chest so gently and persistently since the encounter the other day.

She’d cured herself of those feelings long ago. It had just been a childish crush.

‘Fengjiu Jie-Jie! Fengjiu Jie-Jie!’

And speaking of childish…

Her eyes twinkled at the sight of her young cousin rushing toward her, unaccompanied by even one servant.

‘You little scamp,’ she teased him as she accepted his enthusiastic hug. ‘Are we in Qingqiu?’

Naturally, in Qingqiu, children in the royal family had the freedom to roam as they pleased within a certain range from the Fox Den. But the customs in Heaven Kingdom were more formal and Ah-Li had been followed by servants ever since he could walk.

Ah-Li pouted at her. ‘It’s boring with them. And now that I’ve found you, we can have fun!’

Fengjiu grinned. ‘I was just headed to my friend Chengyu’s palace. Shall we go make sugar foxes?’

‘Yes, yes!’ Ah-Li agreed. He took her hand and practically dragged her in the direction of Fanhua Palace.

Of course, Fengjiu didn’t need long to make the tasty confections. Her gift for cooking had been one of the reasons Zhe Yan had wanted to teach her about medicine, since the two arts followed similar principles. So, while the red-syrup swirls cooled on bamboo sticks, she and Ah-Li played hide-and-seek in Chengyu’s flower gardens. Meanwhile, Chengyu refined the choreography of her flower ballet, since the performance commanded by Tianjun was just a week away.

After lunch together, Ah-Li insisted that she and Chengyu come over to Xiwu Palace to help him finish a kite he had been designing and wanted to test out in the afternoon wind. But on the way there, an awkward incident occurred, one involving a Heaven immortal who evidently cared a great deal about status and precedence.

What happened was this: she and Chengyu were strolling at a slower pace behind Ah-Li, who was eager to get to Xiwu Palace and kept turning his head to cajole them to walk faster.

‘Don’t dawdle, Fengjiu Jie-Jie, or we will miss the wind,’ Ah-Li urged. ‘The wind is too mild for kites in Heaven Kingdom, except for the late afternoon.’

Unfortunately, as they came to a crossing in pathways, Ah-Li accidentally bumped into a maid and jostled her because he wasn’t looking where he was going.

‘Watch where you’re going!’ the maid scolded, giving Ah-Li a hard shove that sent him tumbling to the ground.

Ahead of the tussle, an elegantly dressed, pinch-faced Heaven immortal glanced over her shoulder and sneered dismissively, not even bothering to tell her maid to help Ah-Li up.

And just like that, a beautiful thoroughfare lined with pink-blossomed cherry trees and hibiscus flowers turned into an arena for ugliness.

Fengjiu frowned dangerously and snapped at the arrogant bird immortal (and her fox senses left no doubt that this was some sort of water bird immortal), ‘Have you no shame at letting your servant bully a child? He only bumped her by accident.’

The puffed up bird immortal, who carried herself as if she were the only princess in all the realms, turned and sniffed disdainfully, ‘And what right does he have to rush so carelessly into other people? Especially the people of Tai Chen Palace?’

‘Don’t you recognize who he is?’ Chengyu joined in, standing shoulder to shoulder with Fengjiu in defending Ah-Li, careless though he may have been.

‘Who are you to talk about status, mud blossom,’ the arrogant bird immortal murmured with a dainty sneer.

This stirred a growl deep in Fengjiu’s throat. She couldn’t stand bullies, especially the cowardly kind who called names when they were clearly too weak to win a fight.

‘She’s better than you are, you puffed-up peacock,’ Fengjiu retorted. Her fists clenched but she reminded herself of the trouble she’d get from her uncles if she started a brawl in Heaven Kingdom.

‘Just wait until I tell my brother that you offended his family!’ the sour-faced bird immortal whined.

Brother--? Fengjiu wondered to herself, only to be astonished when the answer to her silent question appeared.

‘Who offended who?’ came Dijun’s calm, detached query as he arrived at a leisurely pace, Lian Song strolling alongside him.

Fengjiu’s eyebrows arched and she had to clamp her lips tightly to stifle a laugh.

Brother? So….was this the foster sister who had tried to trick Dijun into marrying her?

Fengjiu failed. A soft snicker escaped.

Fengjiu’s cheeks flushed slightly, though, when Dijun’s eyes drifted to her and lingered for a moment. Trust Dijun to catch that quiet but rude sound.

Meanwhile, the bird immortal who was somehow Dijun’s foster sister pointed at Fengjiu, Chengyu, and Ah-Li and whined, ‘Dijun, these three have abused me and my maids. The kid ran right into my maids and nearly made them drop the plate of cakes I was bringing you. When Feifei disciplined him, those two shouted rude insults at me.’

Only then did Fengjiu even notice a showy, gilded plate with some dry-looking, lumpy cakes. She hadn’t even caught their scent earlier; they must be pretty flavorless.

‘I never waste my time on insults,’ Fengjiu fired back. ‘But I will defend my cousin when he’s shoved to the ground by a bully, and my friend when she’s called a shameful name.’

Lian Song smiled broadly, his attention lingering on Chengyu before acknowledging the bird immortal’s presence. ‘I’m sure this was a simple misunderstanding. There is no need to fuss.’

Fengjiu felt Chengyu twitch beside her and spied a fleeting eyeroll. Clearly, her friend didn’t want to be indebted to Lian Song for coming to her defense.

‘Zhihe, you would do well not to disturb the son of the Crown Prince and Princess,’ Dijun remarked.

The bird immortal, apparently called Zhihe, fidgeted uncomfortably and cast a startled, resentful look at Ah-Li. Fengjiu wondered how Dijun’s foster sister could possibly not recognize Ah-Li? Was she the kind that kept her head plunged underwater?

‘Especially not in front of his cousin,’ Dijun added, to Fengjiu’s surprise. ‘Who is a skilled fighter and loyal to those she cares about.’

Fengjiu didn’t approve of the fact that Chengyu had been left out, so she looped her arm through her friend’s in solidarity.

Reluctantly, Zhihe muttered to her maid, ‘Apologize to Tianjun’s great-grandson.’

The maid who had pushed Ah-Li to the ground lowered to her knees and bowed stiffly. ‘This maid is sorry for laying hands on Your Highness. I was startled and too focused on protecting the cakes that my Lady has prepared for Dijun.’

Ah-Li, a bit stubborn and spoiled – as Fengjiu had been at that young age – tilted his chin up and declared, ‘Cakes shouldn’t be more important than people, unless they are Fengjiu Jie-Jie’s cakes.’

‘Ah-Li!’ Fengjiu scolded, lightly kicking his foot.

‘Oh?’ Dijun’s eyes found hers and held her in a steady gaze.

‘Does the Princess of Qingqiu also make cakes, in addition to preparing remedies that could rival Zhe Yan’s?’ Lian Song poured on the flattery. Fengjiu could feel Chengyu’s blistering disdain.

‘How could I accept such praise? My uncle is unrivaled in his healing skills,’ Fengjiu countered with a polite smile.

‘It is I who have prepared cakes for Dijun,’ Zhihe asserted herself, her voice thick with resentment.

‘They’ll probably make him choke,’ Chengyu whispered for Fengjiu’s ears only.

Lian Song’s eyes twinkled and he gestured with his fan to announce an idea. ‘What if we have a tasting? Tai Chen Palace could invite young Prince Ah-Li and his friends over for tea, to restore the peace between everyone, and all of us could appreciate the talents of Zhihe and Fengjiu Dianxia. Hmm?’

Fengjiu’s jaw clenched at the manipulative suggestion. She saw Lian Song’s moon eyes directed at Chengyu and knew that her friend was seething – even moreso than Zhihe, who frowned in open displeasure.

But Dijun shrugged and said, ‘I don’t mind hosting,’ while Ah-Li demanded, ‘Can I bring my kite and fly it in Tai Chen Palace?’

‘Of course, Ah-Li, I’ll help you,’ Lian Song offered far too agreeably. ‘What else is an uncle for?’

Ah-Li furrowed his brow and pointed out, ‘Technically, you are my great uncle.’

‘That sneaky playboy,’ Chengyu cursed under her breath.

‘Dijun!’ Zhihe whined, managing to make Dijun’s title sound unpleasant to Fengjiu’s ears.

But Dijun ignored Zhihe and stared expectantly at Fengjiu, his head tilted just enough to imply that it would be rude of her to refuse.

‘Fine,’ Fengjiu exhaled her frustration. Her eyes narrowed at the hint of bemusement that curled Dijun’s lips. Ignoring him, she sent a quick summons to Mi Gu wherever he was. She would need some ingredients from Qingqiu.

Si Ming, how could I have thought I was entangled in the mortal trial you wrote? Fengjiu groaned inwardly. Heaven Kingdom’s much worse.

Chapter Text

It was the most-spacious kitchen Fengjiu had ever cooked in. Compared to the cozy chamber in the Fox Den, or the open-air grill and firepit where her uncles prepared their simple meals, Fengjiu had never seen such a palatial workspace. The ceiling reached twice as high as her head, there were multiple stoves and counters, and if all those were removed, she could easily imagine fitting enough tables for a banquet of three hundred guests at least.

Yet, how crowded it was with Zhihe preparing her cakes. Or, rather, Zhihe and a dozen maids.

‘Mistress, next you add the egg…ah, forgive me, Mistress, first you crack the egg and then add it to the flour,’ one maid was guiding Zhihe through the steps. There were thirty-six different ingredients piled on the counters around Zhihe, who insisted that she would do every step.

She just didn’t understand the steps.

Meanwhile, Fengjiu deftly worked with her six ingredients and chatted with Chengyu. Fengjiu’s preference for cooking had always been to keep things simple. Not too many ingredients, but make each one the best and the freshest. That, and her years of studying with Zhe Yan meant that she knew thousands of ingredients and the effects they produced – and knew how to enhance these with a touch of magic.

‘I know you can sit at Qingqiu’s place in the Imperial court, but would you sit with me on the day of my performance?’ Chengyu asked.

Fengjiu looked up from her work wrapping pastry dough around a ball of sweet, enchanted sorrowless root filling, looked Chengyu directly in the eye and smiled. ‘Of course I will.’

Chengyu beamed at her, then glanced down at the ball of filling and dough that Fengjiu was pressing into a cake mold. ‘What is sorrowless root, anyway? I’d never heard of it.’

‘It’s a Qingqiu plant, related to the lotus. It grows in our lakes. When activated with a little sugar syrup or honey, it tastes of sweetness and daydreams. Zhe Yan discovered its properties over six-hundred thousand years ago, when he says he spent a day watching the bees and dragonflies that landed on its flowers fly away a bit drunkenly afterward,’ Fengjiu explained.

Fengjiu arranged all of her pastries on a baking tray and slipped them in the stove to bake until they were a savory, golden brown. Chengyu watched her and asked, ‘What has it been like, growing up with the Phoenix Immortal Zhe Yan? Most of what everyone else knows is just rumor.’

They stood side-by-side, leaning against a counter while the sorrowless pastries baked, and Fengjiu answered, ‘Honestly? Fun. Never dull. Free. Both my uncles have raised me to discover who I am. And that’s who Zhe Yan is to me: my uncle.’

Chengyu marveled at this with an appreciative smile. ‘To everyone else, he’s a powerful, mystical recluse. People say he was present at the birth of the Universe. Or that he can burn down mountains or raise the dead.’

Fengjiu rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve heard all those. Zhe Yan has told me that any memories he has of the early Universe are like dreams now and he can’t be sure when he emerged. And he would never do any of those things you said. What he’s shown me over the years is that he just understands the world really, really well.’

Soon, an enticing, lightly sweet aroma filled the air around them as Fengjiu’s cakes baked. One or two of Zhihe’s maids even glanced over in Fengjiu’s direction, clearly appreciating the delicious scent. By the time Fengjiu was carefully plating her sorrowless pastries, Zhihe was only just pressing a pasty, gloppy mixture of dough, syrups, chopped nuts, dried fruit bits, flower petals, powdered seed pods, and a few other ingredients Fengjiu couldn’t recognize into cake molds. Zhihe sullenly watched Fengjiu and Chengyu walk by, then returned with sulky determination to pressing her confused concoction into the molds.

When it finally came time to present the cakes to Dijun – and to Lian Song, who had set himself up as a judge as well – Zhihe’s cakes were strained by so many substances packed into a tiny bit of pastry dough that they seemed ready to burst apart at the seams. Dijun’s foster sister had even sprayed them with a bit of gold dust. To Fengjiu, they looked horribly overdone, but Zhihe sniffed dismissively at Fengjiu’s simple cakes and stood proudly behind her own, gaudy creations.

Dijun and Lian Song tasted Zhihe’s cakes first. Ah-Li waited nearby, but Fengjiu saw his eager little eyes fixed on her sorrowless pastries and knew that her cousin cared only about grabbing handfuls of her cakes.

Although Dijun was able to keep his reaction muted, Lian Song was not so skilled. He coughed slightly at the puff of gold dust that rose up when he bit into Zhihe’s cake, blinking as it got in his eyes and nose. Zhihe frowned to see that the heavy layer of gold dust she’d applied was getting all over Dijun’s and Lian Song’s fingers. Lian Song pulled a face as his mouth labored to chew the heavy, pasty mix. After several long moments, Lian Song was still chewing. He set down the cake and smiled politely at Zhihe, even as his eyes seemed to weep with misery.

Dijun was wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief and his lips were motionless. Fengjiu couldn’t even tell if he’d chewed and swallowed the tiny bite he’d taken. His eyes stared distantly at nothing in particular.

Then, Dijun raised a cup of tea to his mouth and sipped it slowly.

At last, Lian Song swallowed heavily and drew in a deep breath. ‘What…skill….’ Lian Song managed to say. Zhihe blushed prettily and gushed with thanks over the Third Prince’s sparse praise. It almost made Fengjiu feel sorry for her.

Has she never heard genuine compliments or criticism before, that she would be so eager for a few words of thin flattery?

Well, it wasn’t her problem. Fengjiu set one cake each before Dijun and Lian Song. Then, seeing her cousin’s eagle eyes fixed hunrily on her sorrowless cakes, she smirked and passed him three. Dijun, who had been lifting the cake she’d given him to take a bite, paused and glanced between Fengjiu and Ah-Li. He narrowed his eyes at Ah-Li but resumed his tasting.

Already, Lian Song had let out an emphatic, ‘Mmm!’ and proceeded to gobble up the pastry. Almost in a daze, the Third Prince stared longingly at Chengyu, a dreamy smile on his face.

Fengjiu saw Dijun look askance at his friend, as if Lian Song’s behavior were unseemly. Which, she supposed, it was – just a little bit. But when Dijun took a bite of her sorrowless cake and the delicate pastry practically melted on his tongue, he wasn’t much better.

Dijun’s shoulders somehow tensed and relaxed all at once and his eyes glowed with tranquility.

He chewed, swallowed, and took another small bite, turning the cake around in his hand to appraise its appearance. A smile tugged at his lips and his gaze wandered to Fengjiu.

Her heart walloped her ribs almost painfully.

From every story Zhe Yan had ever told her about Dijun’s indifference to goddesses and demonesses alike, Fengjiu had believed that Dijun was incapable of looking at anyone like he was looking at her now. His gaze was almost feverish…distracted…

Fengjiu anxiously bit her lower lip, flustered at the intensity of Dijun’s appreciation. Heat rose to her cheeks.

Both Lian Song and Ah-Li reached for another cake. To Fengjiu’s surprise, the plate with her remaining cakes vanished. Lian Song cast a peevish glance at Dijun, who merely continued savoring the one he was eating.

‘Not bad,’ was Dijun’s only compliment.

A wry half-smile tugged at Fengjiu’s mouth. This was about what she’d expected. Dijun rarely praised anyone. The few that he had ever praised at length were ancient generals of his. So, to get even this much out of him was not bad at all.

Not to mention that she was fairly certain it was Dijun who had stolen the rest of the cakes away from her cousin Ah-Li, who was now in a deep sulk, his bottom lip jutting out. Winking at Ah-Li, Fengjiu silently mouthed the words, I’ll make you another batch. At this, Ah-Li’s expression brightened and he subtly, silently clapped his hands in agreement.

Lian Song, meanwhile, sighed, ‘It is true that bliss is fleeting. Fengjiu Dianxia, is there any chance you might be persuaded to prepare these for Chengyu’s flower ballet in Tianjun’s court next week? You are such close friends, I am sure that she would appreciate the support.’

In unison, Fengjiu and Chengyu immediately blurted out, ‘No!’

Chengyu leaned close to Fengjiu and whispered, ‘I don’t want that weasel getting to me through you.’

‘Agreed,’ Fengjiu whispered back. ‘Besides….I have somewhere to be for the next few days.’

Dijun and Liansong observed their quiet conversation with curiosity. However, Zhihe pounced at the opportunity to make herself the center of attention. After seething with jealousy at the clear preference for Fengjiu’s cakes, she perked up and offered, ‘Foster brother, it would be no trouble for me to prepare my cakes for the flower ballet.’

‘I would not allow you to tire yourself out with such a weighty undertaking,’ Dijun declined, easing the panic that had flared in Lian Song’s eyes. ‘Besides, you still have not finished copying the scrolls you were assigned on the sin of deceiving others.’

Zhihe’s expression pinched with resentment but she held her tongue and lowered her gaze, not daring to challenge Dijun.

That’s right, Fengjiu recalled, having forgotten this sordid story she’d heard. Zhihe attempted to pass herself off as Dijun’s bride.

Lian Song sighed again. ‘It was worth a try. But it is just as well – nothing should distract from Chengyu’s performance.’ He stared at her with the same, spellbound expression that he’d worn while eating Fengjiu’s sorrowless cake.

Chengyu shifted uncomfortably beside Fengjiu and nudged her with her elbow.

‘Thank you, Dijun and Third Prince Lian Song, for this challenge. I…erm….I’m traveling tomorrow, though, and need to go now and prepare,’ Fengjiu managed to improvise an excuse to leave.

‘Oh?’ Lian Song’s eyebrows arched with sly interest. ‘I thought you were keeping Chengyu company until the performance.’

Dijun fixed her with a pointed stare and countered, ‘The Princess of Qingqiu will be visiting Chengyu during this time.’

Fengjiu’s breath hitched in her throat at Dijun’s insight. Her eyes met his in a steady gaze as she understood what he had guessed. Dijun had awakened from his mortal trial not long ago, but it had still been many years in the mortal realm.

Qingti didn’t have much time left.

Chapter Text

Fengjiu had only been home in the immortal realms for a few, short weeks, but in that time she had visited the Western Sea and spent time with Chengyu in Heaven Kingdom. In the mortal realm, half a lifetime had passed.

Half of Qingti’s lifetime.

Soon after the pastry competition in Tai Chen Palace, Fengjiu had descended to the mortal realm, promising Chengyu that she would be back in time for the flower ballet in Tianjun’s court. When Fengjiu found Qingti, he was in the imperial capital but no longer living in the military barracks. Indeed, when Fengjiu wandered through the barracks concealed behind her invisibility shield, the commander who oversaw the troops’ exercises looked like a younger Qingti, but with a slightly different face.

It was Qingti’s eldest son and her own namesake.

As for Qingti, he now resided in a prominent hall in the palace complex, close to the Emperor’s own private residence. Fengjiu saw a life’s struggles and triumphs etched into his flesh. There was a deep scar across his right cheek and brow. When the Imperial Physician visited to treat Qingti’s most-recent wound, Fengjiu saw a web of scars across his torso. The years he had lived since her death must have resembled her grandfather’s youth in the ancient times of the immortal realms: one battle after another, each becoming a tale for his children and grandchildren. Qingti’s hair was pure white by now, his face riddled with wrinkles, and his eyes calmer and more serene than in his youth.

Yet Fengjiu still saw the brave, good-natured, fiercely loyal friend she had known when they had been like brothers to each other in his youth.

He coughed hoarsely during the physician’s examination.

Qingti was still in good health…but Fengjiu could also sense that he was dying.

And so, she passed two full years in Chengyu.

Qingti’s wife had already died several years before she had arrived, but his children and their families had ensured that he was never lonely. Fengjiu also watched with delight as the reigning Emperor of Chengyu, Song Weisheng – Qingti’s own son – consulted with Qingti often, treating him as his most-trusted advisor. She attended court frequently and followed officials and servants around the palace, eavesdropping on their conversations. If there had ever been any rumors about Song Weisheng’s paternity, given his slight resemblance to General Ye, it must have been forgotten because Fengjiu heard no whisperings about the Emperor’s lineage. Instead, all Fengjiu heard was praise for the peace and prosperity that Chengyu had enjoyed for the last decade because of Song Weisheng’s wise and capable rule.

But, there was at least one clue that there had been some doubts…at least a few rumors…many, many years ago.

As Fengjiu was keeping watch over Qingti on the last night of his life, surrounded by his children and their children, he was visited by the Emperor, who asked all others to leave the room. In the still, silent room, as candles flickered and incense smoldered, Song Weisheng sat at Qingti’s bedside and made a quiet confession.

‘General Ye, you will be revered for generations in the Kingdom of Chengyu. You won victories for my father and for me. My father and I both depended on your counsel. I will see to it that your family prospers for years to come. But in my life, I have longed to ask you one question…and I fear if I do not ask it now, the chance will be lost to me forever.’

Slowly, Qingti turned his head toward Song Weisheng and blinked at him. After a lengthy pause, Qingti murmured, ‘Ask.’

Taking a deep breath, Song Weisheng asked, ‘Are the rumors that were whispered in my childhood true? Are you my father?’

With effort, Qingti smiled but fatigue weighed his eyes shut. ‘What is to be gained by this question? You are Emperor, and were loved by the previous Emperor as the light of his life when he had known only sorrow.’

‘I do not ask this out of disrespect for my Emperor-Father,’ Song Weisheng persisted, his brow furrowed with desperation. ‘I was the happiest of sons and owe my many blessings to him. But…I wish to honor you rightly, even if it must be in secret.’

Fengjiu’s heart swelled when Qingti’s quivering hand reached out to touch Song Weisheng’s forehead and he answered, ‘You…are my son. I held you in my arms when you were born…’

She watched as the Emperor hung eagerly on Qingti’s every word as the true story of his origins unfolded, along with the tale of Qingti’s close bond with Song Xuanren and the reason that Song Weisheng had been given to him. There was no anger or resentment, only gratitude and joy at finally knowing the truth.

‘I have been so proud of you, my son, every day of your life,’ Qingti assured Song Weishang. And with his final breath, Qingti gave Song Weisheng his blessing.

As Qingti’s body went still, the Emperor of Chengyu kowtowed at his bedside and took a moment to compose himself before summoning Qingti’s family – Song Weisheng’s true brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews – back into the room to pay their respects.

But Fengjiu experienced something far more wondrous.

She could see Qingti’s spirit leaving his body, a gossamer light that shimmered faintly in the candlelit room. His spirit was about to dissipate when it seemed to hitch, then drifted closer to her until she could sense her friend all around her.

Fengjiu felt, rather than heard, his recognition. Xiao Jiu.

It was a pure, joyous resonance in the air.

She wished there was a way she could embrace him.

Abruptly, however, Qingti’s spirit dissipated. Fengjiu felt it as a sudent jolt and looked to see Dijun standing calmly beside her.

‘Dijun?!’ she gasped.

‘You must let Qingti go,’ Dijun explained gently and without judgment. Fengjiu saw that he had surrounded both of them in a protective shield, one that likely concealed their divine presence even better than her own invisibility shield had. ‘Letting go of attachments is a necessary step on the path toward enlightenment. If you hope one day to see Qingti in the immortal realms, you cannot make him yearn for what he left behind in this life.’

‘What did you do?’ Fengjiu asked, still a bit shaken that Dijun was here and uncertain of how much he had seen.

‘I sent Qingti on to his next incarnation,’ Dijun answered. His unwavering gaze softened. ‘Xiao Jiu, you must free him to continue on his path.’

‘I wouldn’t have held Qingti back,’ Fengjiu insisted, although without defensiveness. For, to her giddy delight, she realized that Dijun cared about Qingti’s future.

‘Not willfully,’ Dijun acknowledged with a slight tilt of his head. ‘But Qingti was drawn to you. You were his first brush with immortality.’

‘What do you mean?’ Fengjiu asked, alarmed. Hadn’t she concealed her immortal nature well enough?

Dijun nodded in the direction of the door to the outer courtyard and Fengjiu willingly accompanied him. She had seen her friend through the last moments of his life and his spirit had now gone on. The mourning that surrounded them was for Qingti’s mortal family.

Once outside in the moonlit courtyard, Dijun continued, ‘Your conduct was virtuous, which was in keeping with the mortal identity you had chosen. It was also what deepened your friendship with my mortal general – not to mention the obsession of my concubine and Empress. But what they were both sensing in your right living were the laws that good immortals live by.’

Fengjiu’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She held up her hands and protested, ‘I really never did anything to seduce your—’

‘I know,’ Dijun interrupted, his eyes eyebrows arching bemusedly. ‘It was written by Si Ming’s own hand that the mortal concubine would feel nothing for Song Xuanren. Si Ming is adept at using resources that present themselves, and you merely presented him with an opportunity. But unlike the true inhabitants of this world, you brought with you the light of immortality, toward which all mortals yearn. That is why I came to ensure that you let Qingti go, Xiao Jiu.’

A gentle wind swayed the lanterns hanging from the eaves surrounding the courtyard and rustled the leaves in the nearby gingko trees. Fengjiu swallowed the lump in her throat. Could she really have hurt Qingti, kept him from moving on when it was his time? Hearing Dijun say it so simply, Fengjiu realized what she had nearly done.

‘I’m not Xiao Jiu,’ she muttered, embarrassed at her own lack of caution where her friend’s fate was concerned.

The breeze blew a strand of hair across her face. As Fengjiu brushed it back behind her ear, Dijun’s hand twitched then relaxed again at his side.

‘Correct. You are not Xiao Jiu…..Xiao Bai….’ He agreed, his chin and brow contracting throughtfully as he tested out a different name. Not Xiao Jiu. Not Bai Fengjiu. Not the Princess of Qingqiu.

A smile tugged at Fengjiu’s lips. She liked it.

Nodding, she agreed, ‘Xiao Bai.’

Chapter Text

Many people had gathered in Tianjun’s court, all drawn by the promise of a vibrant, elegant flower ballet. The mood was lively and festive, and Fengjiu noticed that as Tianjun arrived at his throne, even he looked giddier than usual. Beside her, Chengyu fidgeted and breathed a bit more quickly and shallowly than usual.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Fengjiu assured her.

‘I just don’t want to end up in jail,’ Chengyu muttered.

The amiable chatter in the courtroom faded as all present rose to their feet.

All except Dijun, Fengjiu noticed.

Why was he looking at her?

Fengjiu couldn’t worry about that, though, considering the alarming worry Chengyu had just raised.

‘What do you mean?’ Fengjiu whispered as Tianjun’s herald read out a long-winded statement about today’s celebration and Tianjun’s generosity in hosting it.

‘Tianjun threw Lian Song in jail when a Green Demon Lord disrupted Dijun’s wedding and Zhihe took advantage to try to marry herself to her foster brother,’ Chengyu whispered back.

There was no time to discuss it further, though, because Tianjun was now summoning Chengyu to begin the performance. The most Fengjiu could do was give her friend’s hand a quick squeeze of encouragement.

Chengyu descended the white, marble steps to the center of the court and bowed to Tianjun. She waved her arm and, one by one, flowers began to appear suspended in the air, until there were hundreds of vibrant red, purple, magenta, and yellow blooms hovering above the assembled guests. As Chengyu began to flick her hands this way and that, the flowers began to swirl in the same kaleidescopic patterns that Fengjiu had enjoyed when her friend had given this performance at the Western Sea. With consummate skill, Chengyu created the illusion of a whirlpool, then a rippling sea, then a desert sandstorm, and lastly a brilliant meteor shower.

The audience of immortals was rapt with delight at the floral ballet. Fengjiu surveyed their faces and saw how riveted they all were by the dazzling display.

All except Dijun, Fengjiu noticed.

Although when Fengjiu’s eyes locked on his, he lazily shifted his gaze from her to the swirling flowers above.

Maybe he was just bored and his attention was wandering. Chengyu’s beautiful floral ballet was probably child’s play to him.

Thankfully, everyone else was enchanted – so enchanted that they didn’t notice the slight weakening of the energy in the flowers. Fengjiu, who had seen several practice rounds in Chengyu’s palace, was the only one who could tell that the flowers were fluttering just a bit more slowly, more gently. A closer look at Chengyu’s tense posture and furrowed brow revealed her waning stamina for the grand display that she felt pressed to execute perfectly.

As subtly as she could, Fengjiu channeled a little of her own fairy power toward Chengyu. Just enough to sustain her through the end of the floral ballet.

And when Chengyu did finish and bow to the praise of the entire assembly of immortals, Fengjiu caught the grateful smile that her friend flashed her. Fengjiu returned her smile, thrilled for Chengyu that the performance had been such a success.

Fengjiu let her gaze wander around the grand hall and saw Zhe Yan wink at her from his seat beside Bai Zhen. He must have seen her feed Chengyu that little boost of cultivation. Fengjiu winked back at him, laughing while she applauded with everyone else. She also spied Lian Song, exuberantly clapping and gazing with love-struck drunkenness at Chengyu. Fengjiu would have to shield her friend as much as possible.

When her eyes wandered again to Dijun, though, she was surprised to see him lightly clutching his chest, a mild wince of pain on his face. Fengjiu tensed with concern. What could be hurting Dijun? He’d just recovered – no, returned even stronger than before – after a mortal trial.

Yet Dijun closed his eyes, breathed deeply once or twice, and then seemed to be perfectly fine, as if nothing had happened.

‘Lord Chengyu, Goddess of Flowers, is truly talented,’ Tianjun praised from his golden throne on the highest tier. ‘As a reward, I bestow on her from the Imperial Treasury a set of jewels as colorful as her floral ballet, and invite all immortals to celebrate this performance at a banquet.’

As much as it had been Fengjiu’s intention to stick with Chengyu this evening and help her evade Lian Song’s attentions, Fengjiu had to sit at her place and watch as the Third Prince rose from his seat with an ornate jade box, descended to the main floor of the court, and present it to Chengyu. He opened the lid to reveal exquisite rubies, mandarin garnets, fire opals, amethysts, emeralds, and blue diamonds. Nearby immortals murmured in admiration yet, to Fengjiu’s amusement, Chengyu seemed reluctant to accept the treasure from Lian Song’s hands. Pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, Fengjiu watched the subtle contortions that Chengyu went through to avoid touching Lian Song’s hands when she took the jade box. In the end, Lian Song’s craftiness and persistence won out and their fingers brushed in the exchange, but Chengyu could only keep smiling in front of the assembled immortals.

When Chengyu bowed her head abruptly in acknowledgment of the gift and butted her forehead into Lian Song’s, Fengjiu was unable to hold back a sharp laugh. She had to cover it with a few, feigned coughs as she admired Chengyu’s ability to push back, which left Lian Song rubbing his forehead as he returned to his seat. And yet, he still gazed adoringly over at Chengyu. Despite her loyalty to her new friend, Fengjiu began to wonder if Lian Song might actually be serious about her.

‘You were brilliant!’ Fengjiu congratulated Chengyu when she returned to their table. Chengyu, too, lightly rubbed her sore forehead.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Chengyu whispered gratefully in the brief moment they had before their table was surrounded by well-wishers for Chengyu and…..ugh!....a few bachelors who took the opportunity to flatter Fengjiu and try to arrange meetings with her.

‘Eehhh….my uncles are keeping my schedule, would you please make arrangements with them?’ Fengjiu told each would-be suitor. As she nodded in the direction of Qingqiu’s table, where Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen sat to represent the Bai clan, Fengjiu pleaded with her eyes for her uncles to fend off at least a few of the more annoying bachelors. She was relieved to see both her uncles glance at each other with playful mischief before sending her their reassuring smiles.

With a brief reprieve from male attentions, Fengjiu relaxed against her armrest, sipped a cup of wine, and surveyed the festivities. Sadly, Si Ming was not there; Fengjiu guessed that he was still recovering in his palace. Her eyes were then drawn to Dijun, who sat alone, high above all other tiers of immortals. Dijun might have been a marble statue, so still was he in repose, his silver hair draped over his shoulders. But then he lifted a cup of tea, blew gently on it, and brought the cooled brew to his mouth for a studied sip. His eyes focused on the cup as if nothing else in the room were worthy of his attention. Well, almost.

Fengjiu could swear that his eyes fleetingly flicked in her direction.

An impulse tugged at her, and when yet another bachelor began to approach her table with his wine cup, clearly prepared to offer her a toast, Fengjiu acted on her impulse. She murmured to Chengyu that she would be right back and slipped away to climb the steps toward Dijun’s table. As she approached, he glanced at her with arched eyebrows and a hint of a smile.

‘Bai Fengjiu greets Donghua Dijun,’ she said, bowing to him in this formal setting.

Dijun blinked slowly and nodded his head in acknowledgment. His lips curved further. ‘Xiao Bai. Why are you not still celebrating with your friend Chengyu?’

Fengjiu nodded toward where Chengyu was still surrounded with young fairies admiring her and pointed out, ‘She’ll be busy for a while. I came to check on you.’

‘Check on me?’ Dijun echoed, his eyebrows arching again. ‘Why?’

He gestured with his hand and a cushion appeared for her. His eyes lowered to the cushion and then lifted to meet hers, so Fengjiu knelt down to sit beside him.

It didn’t escape her that nearby conversations hushed for a moment.

‘During the performance, you looked like you were feeling unwell. I was worried,’ Fengjiu explained.

‘You worried about me?’ Dijun remarked, his voice deceptively detached.

He poured himself another cup of tea, waved his hand to produce a second cup, and poured some for Fengjiu as well. Only when he was sipping his tea did Fengjiu spy the slight smile that Dijun was artfully concealing.

Zhe Yan has always said Dijun was a stubborn patient, yet he doesn’t seem to mind the attention, Fengjiu thought to herself with no small amount of amusement.

‘Of course,’ Fengjiu chided him the way her elders had cajoled her when she had been a spoiled and difficult patient in her childhood. ‘Don’t I know better than anyone what you have endured? You told me yourself that you returned from your trial even stronger than before. So, why did you feel pain just now?’

Dijun’s eyebrows lifted and a slight, indifferent frown tugged at his lips for just a moment. ‘I don’t know. It passed quickly.’

Fengjiu sighed. ‘Dijun, how can you be so indifferent?’

Dijun pushed her neglected cup of tea toward her, so Fengjiu picked it up and took a sip.

‘Raised as you have been by a physician, you find cause for concern in every slight discomfort. I have survived thousands of battles, Xiao Bai. This is nothing.’

‘So, there is something,’ Fengjiu pointed out with narrowed eyes.

Shrugging, Dijun admitted, ‘A brief ache as I was watching the end of the performance. First you worried for Chengyu, now you worry for me. We are both fine.’

Fengjiu’s brow furrowed. That’s right, it had happened when she’d passed some of her cultivation to Chengyu. Had Fengjiu carelessly injured Dijun without meaning to? But how?

‘Will you at least have your physician check on you?’ Fengjiu advised.

Dijun rested his head against his hand and gazed at her with bemusement. ‘What, now?’

Flustered, Fengjiu leaned back and pushed her empty teacup away from her on the low table. ‘No, that’s not what I said.’

‘Then you wish me to take you back to Tai Chen Palace?’ he continued with arched eyebrows.

Fengjiu’s eyes widened and she shook her head in protest. ‘I didn’t say that either! I’m not your physician.’

Dijun’s mouth twitched thoughtfully and his eyes went distant for a moment. Then, a lazy smile stretched across his face and he countered, ‘Then, why are you so concerned about my health?’

‘I…’ Fengjiu stammered then fell silent, her brow furrowing as she struggled with her own impulses and Dijun’s playful cross-examination. ‘I just wanted to help and I didn’t think anyone else noticed. And I was there…’

Dijun nodded, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ‘You are more observant than most, Xiao Bai. You see where others do not look. I, too, am curious to know whether I have a hidden injury. Come back with me. You are my physician now.’

‘What--?!’ Fengjiu protested, but Dijun was already rising to his feet and descending the steps, not even looking to see if she was following him.

And of course, right when she needed a moment to gather her wits, the entire court automatically stood and bowed at his departure, according to long-established ritual. Which meant that Fengjiu had no choice but to stand….and stand out as the only person at Dijun’s private table. She blushed scarlet as curious eyes glanced her way and heads leaned together as murmured gossip began to circulate. Fengjiu clenched her fists, a deep frown of frustration on her face – one that turned to a petulant scowl when she saw Zhe Yan covering his laughter and shaking visibly as he took in the entire scene.

Not wanting to give her uncle-by-marriage any further entertainment, Fengjiu forced herself to descend the steps behind Dijun and follow him across the vast, marble floor toward the entrance to the Imperial Court.

But she just might bite Zhe Yan the next time she saw him….

Chapter Text

In the seclusion of Dijun’s private chamber, Fengjiu sat on a stool beside his majestic divan and pressed her fingers to his wrist, but it felt like her own pulse was racing. As she tried to steady her nerves, all she could think was: I should never have asked him about his health.

Why, oh why, didn’t I just sit beside Chengyu and sip the sorry excuse for wine that was served in Heaven Kingdom?

Her diagnostic was even more difficult because Dijun refused to have his pulse taken like a normal patient. He’d rested his hand with the palm facing up instead of down, so his fingers rested against her own wrist while she studied the strength and rhythm of his pulse, both of which were completely—

‘Normal!’ Fengjiu blurted out, withdrawing her hand from Dijun’s wrist, twitching slightly at how his fingertips brushed her skin even as she pulled away.

‘Your pulse is healthy and strong,’ Fengjiu continued at her patient’s arched eyebrow. She tried to ignore how strong the scent of white sandalwood was, here in Dijun’s private room. Fengjiu tried to forget how she had known his preferred incense long before she had ever met him, thanks to her youthful obsession. Doing her best to focus on providing a consultation, she added, ‘There’s no sign that you’re bleeding anywhere, s-so I think it is unlikely that this is a physical wound.’

Dijun nodded, his eyes flickering with amusement. ‘I agree. I would have noticed such a thing, and physical injuries have not troubled me for half a million years.’

Fengjiu proposed, ‘There also are no signs of any of the illnesses I’m familiar with. So, I think we should focus on your cultivation and spiritual health. Perhaps your recovery from your mortal trial wasn’t as complete as originally thought…’

Again, Dijun nodded, although this time his gaze met hers with greater discernment. ‘Have your studies with Zhe Yan advanced to spiritual diagnosis?’

It was precisely because Zhe Yan had taught her some of the fundamentals of this area of healing that Fengjiu understood the subtle shift in Dijun’s mood. Her uncle-by-marriage had permitted her to test her skills on him as he had taught her the steps, yet their relationship was far, far more familiar than this odd…..whatever it was that she and Dijun had developed because of her involvement in his mortal trial. Honestly, Fengjiu wondered if anyone other than Dijun himself had ever performed this diagnosis on him.

However, Fengjiu refused to lose face for her family, and especially for Zhe Yan, by childishly allowing her actions to be dictated by fear or embarrassment. So, she nodded and admitted, ‘Zhe Yan taught me, but I’ve only ever practiced on him and my Fourth Uncle.’

Tactfully, Dijun kept his face neutral and his voice steady, almost indifferent. ‘Natural choices, and that is more experience than many physicians have had. Zhe Yan’s spiritual energy is also closer to my own than many who you might have practiced on. Do you feel comfortable enough to try?’

Throat too dry to speak, Fengjiu nodded. Although what she was about to do – with Dijun, of all people – prickled her nerves, Fengjiu believed this was where the answers lay.

Out of consideration for her, Dijun glanced away. ‘Begin when you are ready,’ he said, his breathing steady and calm, just as it needed to be.

Fengjiu, too, steadied her breathing and focused on calming her mind. With every ounce of self-discipline she had, she fixed her mind on connecting with the spiritual dimensions of Dijun’s being.

And then she touched her index finger to the center of his forehead---the gateway to his higher consciousness.

To Fengjiu’s relief, the transition was every bit as smooth as what she had experienced with Zhe Yan. It felt almost gentle, soothing. Yet it also felt like drowning in a vast ocean. Everywhere was Dijun’s spiritual aura, lapping like waves of light. If she weren’t careful, Fengjiu would lose herself, like a tiny beetle sinking beneath the surface when it rested too long on the water. It was as if, spiritually, Dijun was the Holy Jade Sea.

Feverish shivers ran up and down her spine and a slow, steady crescendo of warmth and tension radiated out from her chest. There was no examination more intimate than this.

Her breathing grew shaky. She had to project herself outward if she were to have any hope of seeing whether Dijun had a spiritual injury.

Not to mention preserving her own dignity.

Dijun’s magic swirled all around her. Infinite light.

With effort, Fengjiu forced her mind to rise, race outward, until she could see the outline of Dijun’s spiritual form. Zhe Yan’s had looked like a fiery phoenix as big as a mountain. It hardly surprised Fengjiu that Dijun’s took the shape of a lotus, as pure and pristine as white jade.

Yet from this perspective, she could finally see it.

A pale, greyish patch, like a fragment of silk curtain that had been torn away. When Fengjiu let her own spirit pass close to the dim, faded area, it felt cold.

Fengjiu’s finger stubbornly refused to part from Dijun’s forehead when she first wanted to let him know what she’d discovered. Her will seemed to fail her for a few moments. It was as if her spirit had grown comfortable where it was, nestled amid the sea of Dijun’s mystical aura. But Fengjiu forced her mind to pry itself away…until, at last, she was aware of her physical surroundings again. She lowered her finger and even covered it with her other hand, squeezing tightly.

Dijun’s eyes slowly locked with hers as the two of them breathed slowly and deeply to recover from the potent effects of their brief spiritual link. He waited for her to speak.

‘Dijun….’ Fengjiu began after several moments. ‘Is there any enemy powerful enough to damage your shadow. I saw that you do have a spiritual injury. A fraction of your shadow has been excised.’

‘Only a very few. I have not engaged with any of them in milennia, other than Miao Luo. Yet, in her current circumstances, she could not have done such harm,’ Dijun answered, his eyes narrowed. He hadn’t doubted Fengjiu at all and had instantly taken her diagnosis seriously.

Fengjiu’s mind was still reeling from what she had seen and all of the implications of this injury. Most concerning of all was that Dijun has likely entered into his mortal trial with this portion of his shadow already missing. That could have been incredibly dangerous for him, and Fengjiu wondered if Si Ming would have subjected Dijun to such extreme suffering if he had known—

Fengjiu gasped sharply at a sudden insight. Dijun’s curious expression gave her the courage to suggest something that should be unthinkable.

‘Dijun, are there those who are not enemies who could have done this…and who engage with you often?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Dijun acknowledged. ‘Especially if I were in a deep sleep, as I was nearly three-hundred years ago…’

A chill crept across Fengjiu’s skin. She didn’t dare imagine who….

‘Zhong Lin,’ Dijun summoned his steward with remarkable calm.

So, Fengjiu thought to herself, Dijun has been dealing with some severe injuries in the past few centuries and hasn’t even known their full extent…

Chapter Text

Stay.

Fengjiu had wanted to return to Chengyu’s palace and leave this conversation to Dijun. Now that she had diagnosed Dijun’s spiritual injury and he had confirmed it through his own, self-examination, she thought that her work was done. Investigating who had dared to carve out a portion of Dijun’s shadow – a fragment of his very spirit – and what that person had done with it should be Dijun’s job. Fengjiu had already intruded very intimately in this matter because of the nature of the diagnosis; she didn’t feel like she should be involved in the rest of it.

But when she had tried to take her leave, Dijun had insisted that she stay.

With just one word: stay.

And a look that didn’t command, exactly, but still assumed…or hoped for….her continued presence. As if her leaving didn’t make sense.

Which was why Fengjiu stood awkwardly nearby during a scene she would have preferred not to be involved in at all.

‘Dijun, I swear to you, your long sleep of three hundred years ago was undisturbed,’ Zhong Lin insisted as he bowed before his silver-haired master. ‘All was quiet in Tai Chen Palace.’

Fengjiu couldn’t detect even the slightest sign of guile or deception in Dijun’s steward.

When Dijun had summoned him and described what Fengjiu had found, Zhong Lin had paled with distress at the idea that someone had managed to injure Dijun at all. Now, his genuinely baffled expression deepened the mystery of what had happened back then.

After a lengthy silence, Dijun decided, ‘This may be all you know of the matter. This does not mean that it is all there is to know. I will use other means to discover how a portion of my shadow was removed.’

Zhong Lin nodded, trembling with gratitude but still deeply troubled. Fengjiu could see in the worried lines creasing his forehead that he, too, wanted the mystery solved. The idea that Dijun could suffer such a loss from his spiritual being unnoticed was unbearable. When Dijun waved his hand to dismiss Zhong Lin, the distressed steward seemed reluctant to go, but nonetheless, withdraw he did.

‘Come with me,’ Dijun then instructed her, to Fengjiu’s surprise.

‘But I have already diagnosed you to the limit of what I can—’ Fengjiu protested.

Dijun’s eyes locked onto hers with such unwavering determination that she never finished her objection.

‘You have diagnosed my injury,’ he observed evenly. ‘Would you really leave the work unfinished by failing to determine the cause?’

‘But…’ Fengjiu began, yet once again, the steady, unyielding expectation in Dijun’s eyes interrupted whatever she’d meant to say. Pressing her lips together in a slight frown, Fengjiu finally nodded and accompanied Dijun.

It was already getting late, and Fengjiu was eager to return to Chengyu’s palace, so she sincerely hoped this wouldn’t take long.

To her surprise, Dijun led her to a higher terrace in the Thirteenth Heaven that was surrounded by mighty waterfalls. Fengjiu hadn’t visited this place before, but she had studied about it in school. This was the legendary Miaohua Mirror!

Fleeting fragments of rainbows glimmered among the spray from thundering cascades. Everywhere on the terrace, the grass was damp. Fengjiu carefully avoided wandering too carelessly near the edges, lest she lose her footing and slip over.

Although he did not raise his voice, Dijun was able to make himself heard when he asked her, ‘Do you know what this is?’

‘It’s the Miaohua Mirror,’ Fengjiu answered without hesitation. ‘It is one of Dijun’s greatest inventions, allowing the user to see the rise and fall of worlds.’

She did worry about being here, in the presence of such overwhelming power. Fengjiu had felt the increase in her fairy magic after returning from the mortal realm, but she was still just a nine-tailed fox of 30,000 years. Already, the waterfalls’ thundering pressed against her head. Fengjiu rubbed her temples lightly and hoped she would be able to leave soon.

Dijun noticed the tension in her eyes and waved his hand, surrounding her with a protective shield that provided instant relief.

‘Correct,’ Dijun noted. ‘And how would you use it to find the cause of an injury?’

‘I couldn’t use it,’ Fengjiu pointed out, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Dijun, you are the only immortal strong enough to command the Miaohua Mirror. But I am guessing that you will use it to visit the moment when you suspect part of your shadow was removed.’

Although Dijun arched his eyebrows at her cheekiness, he smirked and nodded. ‘If my initial theory about the time when a portion of my shadow was taken is wrong, then we will see nothing of interest and will have to search further. But if my theory is correct….’

Fengjiu stood beside Dijun and watched as he performed a few, graceful gestures to focus the Miaohua Mirror on Tai Chen Palace three centuries ago. The vision reflected in the waterfalls focused in on Dijun’s sleeping form. Beside him stood Zhong Lin and an elderly immortal Fengjiu did not recognize.

‘…To protect Dijun’s 100-year sleep from a reappearance of Miao Luo’s scourge, I gave some thought and and recently found an answer. Elder, you are very good at creating souls. If you can take half of Dijun’s shadow to make a soul and send it to Fanyin Valley…’ Zhong Lin was saying.*

A carp could hardly round its eyes or gape its mouth wider than Fengjiu did in that moment. When Dijun had questioned him, Zhong Lin had insisted so earnestly that he had done nothing to Dijun’s shadow and that Dijun’s long sleep had been undisturbed.

‘How can this be…?’ she murmured in shock.

‘Listen closely,’ Dijun advised her as they continued to watch this moment in the past.

The elderly immortal had agreed to help Zhong Lin, but advised, ‘…after I make this soul and send it to Fanyin Valley, you and I both need to drink amnesiac water to forget this matter. Since you've always been meticulous, I assume you'll also agree with this old man. Albeit this reincarnated soul is said to only be a fraction of Dijun's shadow, it is still a part of His Majesty. If either of us inadvertently reveal the matter, a determined person could very well give us trouble by devouring this soul. Dijun will be weak during his sleep, and hence his immortal foundation will certainly be affected.’*

It was dizzying for Fengjiu to contemplate all of this. Although she had studied deception as a martial tactic with her father and grandfather, most of Fengjiu’s upbringing in Qingqiu and with her uncles in the Ten-Miles Peach Orchard had been spent in a climate of honesty and straightforward dealings. It felt like she had just shed a little of her naivete, like a tree losing its leaves in autumn. This was how Heaven Kingdom worked.

‘Zhong Lin…hid this from himself,’ Fengjiu murmured, her brow furrowed. ‘But that also meant hiding it from you.’

Dijun kept studying the images as they unfolded: the elderly immortal excising a fragment of shadow from Dijun’s unconscious, past self; Zhong Lin transporting the glowing, prescious soul to a peak high above a valley and channeling it down; and, finally, the elderly immortal administering amnesiac water to both of them. But as he watched, Dijun shared his own deductions with Fengjiu.

‘Zhong Lin tended to me when I had exhausted myself by reinforcing Miao Luo’s prison. He saw the importance I attached to suppressing her, even at the cost of my own health, and made a calculated decision when I was unable to advise him. It is understandable. He will still be punished for deceiving me, but I will be lenient.’

Fengjiu nodded, even though her chest clenched and twisted at the labyrinthine secrets that had been concealed beneath the seemingly untroubled, perfect façade of Heaven Kingdom – even in Dijun’s own palace, which should be the safest place of all! Her mind grasped why Zhong Lin had done it. Even her own, mild panic was proof of the risks of allowing the realms to discover that Dijun was incapacitated. How was anyone in the realms safe? Even Dijun could be robbed of part of himself during his sleep. Yet, it was more than this. Dijun had been alone. Vulnerable. Those watching over Dijun had done this without making any plan for Dijun to recover from their actions. Images of Qingti facing a demon blade flashed in Fengjiu’s mind.

If only she could have protected….

‘How did Zhong Lin expect you to heal from this if nobody even remembered the injury?’ Fengjiu murmured.

The ache in her chest surged and, as dizziness overtook her, she sank to her knees.

…kept Dijun safe…

‘Xiao Bai? Xiao Bai!?’

That was odd. It was unnatural for Dijun’s voice to sound panicked.

But Fengjiu lost any sense of her surroundings for a moment.

When her eyes blinked open and her vision was once again clear, Fengjiu was startled to find herself in bed in Xiwu Palace. Had that all just been a fantasy? Had she gotten drunk at the banquet in honor of Chengyu’s performance and had a vivid, bizarre dream?

Zhe Yan’s fleeting expression of concern suggested as much, although he quickly covered it up with a teasing smile. Her uncle-by-marriage sat at her bedside and helped her sit up.

‘Good. Now that you’re awake, you can drink a little fortifying tonic,’ he said, grasping a white, jade bowl of medicine and dipping a spoon into it.

Out of habit, Fengjiu dutifully accepted several spoonsful before asking, ‘What happened? Did I get sick at the banquet?’

Zhe Yan shook his head and his smile grew….enigmatic. ‘I couldn’t get all of the details out of Dijun. He arrived at Xiwu Palace late last night, carrying you in his arms. All he would say is that you collapsed and it was likely due to the power of the Miaohua Mirror. Then he left. Fengjiu, what were you doing near the Miaohua Mirror? It’s not a place that can be easily endured by one so young as you for very long.’

But Fengjiu recognized these pangs. Her hand rested on her chest as she desperately tried the techniques that had worked the first time….so long ago….

She tried deep breathing.

She tried to imagine a clear night of timeless, distant stars.

Only, this time, it wasn’t working.

Her stubborn heart surged with its own will, fueled by the memory of what Dijun’s spirit had felt like when she had connected with it.

‘Fengjiu?’ Zhe Yan’s voice held a lifetime of care in it and Fengjiu realized she was weeping.

She was in love with him. In spite of all her efforts to tame what she had convinced herself was a youthful infatuation that would lead nowhere, Fengjiu’s heart defied her head and chose Dijun.

She started laughing through her tears.

‘I’m hopeless, Zhe Yan,’ she managed to choke out.

How could she tell him that all of his wisdom, all of his guidance had been for nought, and her foolish heart had chosen the one god in all the realms who was indifferent to love?

To Fengjiu’s relief, however, understanding and support shone in Zhe Yan’s eyes as she hiccuped through shaky, stuttered breaths. Her uncle and closest mentor set down the bowl of tonic and took both her hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

‘No, Xiao Huli,’ Zhe Yan comforted her. ‘You are the most big-hearted nine-tailed fox I have yet known in all my years. And that is who you are meant to be.’

Chapter Text

When Fengjiu found Zhong Lin alone in Tai Chen Palace, she regretted having waited three days to come see Dijun. She had only wanted to share with Dijun what she had learned from Zhe Yan about how to restore his fragmented shadow. Zhong Lin welcomed her with great deference, most likely because she had been the one to discover that a part of Dijun’s shadow was missing. The steward informed her that Dijun was cultivating in seclusion but should be able to see her in a few days. To Fengjiu’s surprise, though, he said that Dijun had instructed him to offer her a guest room and permit her to stay in Tai Chen Palace should she so wish.

That seemed fishy.

Dijun had brought her back to Xiwu Palace himself. He knew she had a place to stay.

And Zhong Lin would certainly not try to deceive her after—

No. Not Zhong Lin.

This was Dijun’s doing.

Why offer Fengjiu a place to stay, unless Dijun wanted to make sure…of what?

What was his strategy?

Fengjiu had studied his achievements in the ancient world. She’d heard stories of Dijun from her grandfather and Zhe Yan. All of it suggested that Dijun was constantly strategizing, even in his sleep. So, what was he anticipating – and what was he trying to influence – by trying to keep her in Tai Chen Palace? To understand this, she had to see herself through Dijun’s eyes.

He’d rescued her from the demon lands.

He’d encountered her – albeit Song Xuanren – in the mortal realm.

That must be it. Fengjiu realized that, from Dijun’s perspective, she must be careless about her own safety and willing to rush into danger like a fool. Dijun must be trying to keep her in Tai Chen Palace for her own good. But, why would he worry about that? Fengjiu had no need to rush off into trouble….unless….

….unless Dijun was not in Tai Chen Palace at all.

And he thinks I’ll try to find him.

Fengjiu’s eyebrows arched as she realized it was a pretty good guess on his part. After all, if she showed up at Tai Chen Palace, it meant she was trying to find him.

And if he was worried about Fengjiu trying to find him, he must be in a place where there was the potential for danger.

The Fanyin Valley. The place where Zhong Lin and that elderly immortal had sent Dijun’s shadow to fool Miao Luo and keep her from starting any trouble. Dijun must have gone looking for his shadow!

‘Zhong Lin,’ Fengjiu declared, her eyes gleaming with determination. ‘Take me to where I can enter the Fanyin Valley.’

The look on Zhong Lin’s face made Fengjiu worry he would fall sideways right into the nearby fishing pond. For a long moment, it seemed he had lost his voice. When it returned, the most that Zhong Lin could do was stammer unconvincingly that he could not possibly help her do this.

‘Perhaps…when D-Dijun has finished cultivating…’ Zhong Lin suggested.

‘He’s not cultivating,’ Fengjiu pressed her speculation. ‘He’s gone to find the part of his shadow that you sent to the Fanyin Valley. Just help me get in.’

Her blunt statement once again stole Zhong Lin’s voice and he lowered his eyes in shame. However, he recovered after a moment and spoke with greater candor.

‘Fengjiu Dian Xia, Dijun has been lenient with me for this. I cannot compound my mistake with another one.’

Of course, Fengjiu was a determined fox, candor or no candor.

‘Oooohhh, so you could let me into the Fanyin Valley,’ she concluded. ‘If it couldn’t be done at all, you would have said so.’

Not to mention that if Dijun really was still in Tai Chen Palace, Zhong Lin would have said so.

Poor Zhong Lin frowned in exasperation at having been tricked. But Fengjiu was a very, very determined fox and continued talking over him just as he tried to object.

‘Was Dijun able to tell you how he plans to reintegrate his shadow smoothly without risk to himself? You know it won’t be as simple as it might seem, right? The shadow will have lived a life. It will be bringing back a slightly different cultivation because of that. But you and Dijun thought of this, yes?’

‘According to Elder Yunzhuang—’ Zhong Lin tried to break in, but Fengjiu’s inner fox would not yield.

‘Does Elder Yunzhuang’s knowledge surpass Zhe Yan’s? The Phoenix Immortal has advised me on how to treat Dijun’s spiritual injury,’ Fengjiu pushed back. Her eyes flared with a crafty intuition and she added, ‘Oh, just forget it. I’ll bet I get find my way in myself. Who needs you? I’ll just go to the Fanyin Valley now.’

And with that, she phased herself out of Tai Chen Palace and to one of the borders of the Fanyin Valley. Her fairy power carried her through the clouds to a rocky ledge above a fog-shrouded abyss. She waited there with her arms folded across her chest, but not for long. In less time than it took for her heart to beat three times, a harried, breathless Zhong Lin materialized beside her.

‘Fengjiu Dianxia, please stop!’ the frazzled steward pleaded with her. ‘You could be injured and Dijun….Dijun…..’

A lazy, coy grin slanted Fengjiu’s lips in triumph. She hadn’t behaved like this much of a brat in years – she’d have to remember how effective it could be when played right.

‘So, would Dijun be more upset if I entered the valley with your help, or if I tried on my own and got injured?’ she asked.

Zhong Lin gaped at her and slumped his shoulders in disbelief. After hesitating for a few moments, he waved his hands in a series of gestures and managed to create a small, glimmering opening in what looked like a substantial barrier.

‘Don’t worry, Zhong Lin,’ Fengjiu assured him sweetly. ‘I will tell Dijun that you did your best to stop me, but you hadn’t yet learned what my elders already know. I’m a real headache.’

With that, Fengjiu slipped through the opening in the barrier and flew down into the Fanyin Valley. The fog was frostier than she’d expected and a fierce updraft buffeted her to and fro so that instead of landing on the ground, she sort of crashed into it.

‘Ow,’ Fengjiu muttered as she stood up and brushed snow off of her robes. She rolled her shoulders and checked herself for injuries. Aside from a bruise or two on her arms, she seemed to be fine. So, Fengjiu looked at her wintry surroundings to decide how she might go about finding Dijun.

If I were Dijun, where would I start looking for my own shadow?

She hadn’t lied to Zhong Lin. Zhe Yan had indeed shared some of his knowledge about shadows with her while she was resting up in Xiwu Palace. The shadow would have been born into the local population and developed its own cultivation over the course of a lifetime – in this case, three centuries’ worth. Not a long time for immortals, but not insignificant, either. Dijun might be able to sense the traces of his own spiritual essence in a general area, but pinpointing the exact individual who had been born of Dijun’s shadow would require some careful observation.

Dijun was never one to act hastily on the battlefield, Fengjiu reminded herself.

So, her first guess was that he had settled himself in somewhere among the inhabitants of the Fanyin Valley – Qingqiu’s neighbors, the Biyiniao. Most likely in the grandest villa that was available. It was Dijun, after all.

As Fengjiu’s feet led her away from the frozen lake and stone pavillion through a wooded area, the giddy confidence that had enabled her to toy with Zhong Lin like a rabbit faltered just a bit.

What would she do when she found Dijun? What if he was unhappy that she was butting in without his consent?

Would he toss her out of the Fanyin Valley the way he’d tossed all those women out of his bed in ancient times?

Would he see right through Fengjiu, straight to the heart that loved him?

‘Xiao Bai?’

Fengjiu froze.

She’d just stepped into a small clearing and, of all people, Dijun was walking straight toward her, clad all in white, including a heavy, winter cloak. Surprised, she shifted her weight and her right foot bore down on a dead branch on the ground, snapping it in two.

Uh-oh….

Although, Dijun didn’t look too angry, just—

***

He was surprised to see her here in the valley, although not greatly so.

Xiao Bai had already impressed him with her cleverness and determination, even from their first meeting. True, she had nearly gotten herself caught by the Red Demon clan out of sheer clumsiness. But the quantity of fiend berries she’d managed to steal meant that she’d managed to outsmart one of the most-troublesome mystical plants in all the realms. Not to mention that she had evaded Song Xuanren’s mortal concubine, in spite of an obsession written by Si Ming’s own hand. Dijun had come to appreciate that Xiao Bai was quite capable of overcoming challenges.

And, truthfully, he had not worked as hard as he might have to keep her out of the Fanyin Valley. If Dijun had acted on his first impulse, he would have addled Zhong Lin’s memories so that the steward would send Xiao Bai off on a wild goose chase in a distant realm. It would also have given Zhong Lin a taste of having his being altered without his recollection. Instead, though, Dijun had merely told Zhong Lin to show Xiao Bail hospitality and ask her to wait. Dijun would have been pleased to return and find her enjoying the comforts of his palace.

It had mortified him, to the point of stirring a sharp pain in his chest, when Xiao Bai had collapsed under the Miaohua Mirror’s powerful, mystical assault. Dijun hadn’t even defended himself against Zhe Yan’s stern judgment when he’d handed her over to her peacock of an uncle.

Now…Dijun found he was even more pleased to see Xiao Bai in the Fanyin Valley, in spite of the danger she might encounter.

It was pure selfishness.

Smiling faintly, as if he were sleepwalking, Dijun stepped toward Xiao Bai, removed his warm, white velvet cloak, and draped it around her shoulders.

‘Aren’t you cold?’ he asked.

Chapter Text

‘Less so, now,’ Fengjiu answered with a shrug. ‘Dijun’s cloak is warm. But, then, won’t you be cold?’

‘I’ve suffered worse,’ Dijun remarked. Fengjiu shivered at how closely Dijun was standing to her. He arched an eyebrow and prodded, ‘Are you sure you aren’t cold?’

‘If we just stand here all day, I will be,’ Fengjiu pointed out. She was tempted to take a step back but her feet remained planted in the ground. As she looked up into Dijun’s eternal eyes, she saw the frosty cloud of her breath drift between them.

Dijun waved his arm and in the next instant they were in a rustic courtyard. Twisted pines with sculpted tufts of green needles stood like sentries in different corners. Bright, red berries on leafless shrubs adorned the wintry canvas of snow with defiant brilliance. And the dark, wood buildings that framed the courtyard were swept neat and clean, and decked with elegant lanterns, giving the entire space a feel of comfort in spite of the cold.

It wasn’t a grand villa, after all, yet it still had the feel of Tai Chen Palace.

Fengjiu took a few steps and admired the still, quiet beauty of this place, her expression at ease and warm with appreciation. When she realized she was staring, she blushed, but Dijun merely smiled at her and gestured silently for her to follow him inside the largest of the buildings. Once over the threshold, with a subtle flick of his wrist, he conjured a simmering pot of tea and two cups on the low table near the entry.

Fengjiu sat on a cushion, still bundled up in Dijun’s cozy, white velvet cloak, and accepted the cup of tea that he poured her.

‘Why did you come to the Fanyin Valley?’ he asked before sipping from his own cup.

‘Zhe Yan told me more about restoring someone’s shadow,’ Fengjiu answered easily.

‘You could have told me when I returned to Tai Chen Palace,’ Dijun pointed out, his eyebrows raising slightly. ‘Why not simply wait there?’

Not knowing how to answer at first, Fengjiu pursed her lips and took a sip of tea. She couldn’t betray the first thought that had popped into her mind: I just wanted to be where you were.

At last, Fengjiu muttered, ‘I don’t like waiting.’ She focused on her teacup, studying the painted design and rubbing her finger along the rim to test its smoothness.

‘Oh?’ Dijun’s mild, amused reply made Fengjiu squirm uncomfortably. Of course, Dijun did nothing to ease the uncomfortable silence. He just leaned on his elbow, rested his hand against his cheek, and quietly waited for her to say more.

‘I can’t very well help you from Tai Chen Palace, and you might need me before you returned,’ Fengjiu insisted. She was trying to go on the offensive, but to her chagrin, her words just came out sounding clingy.

Naturally, she kept talking and just made things worse. ‘I mean, shadows aren’t meant to be separated and divided. Restoring one can be complicated. And…and didn’t you tell me to stay with you, anyway?’

Dijun’s steady gaze and broadening smile were unnerving Fengjiu to the point that she set down her teacup and folded her arms across her chest. As soon as she’d done it, she felt childish. So, she reached for the teapot to pour herself more tea.

With aggravating calm, Dijun grasped the handle right as she did so. Fengjiu froze as her fingers brushed his and quickly jerked her hand away. Dijun’s eyes barely twitched, yet Fengjiu felt warm enough that she loosened the heavy cloak over her shoulders. Her sleeves slipped down, exposing a few, rough bruises near her wrists.

That prompted a deep frown from Dijun.

‘I did tell you to stay,’ he acknowledged smoothly as he rose from the table. When Fengjiu shifted to get up as well, Dijun glanced over his shoulder, pointed at her cushion, and said, ‘Stay.’

From an adjacent room, Dijun continued, ‘The Fanyin Valley is generally a peaceful place, so I don’t mind you being here. I need someone to serve me since I did not bring Zhong Lin. You will do.’

Hey! I’m the Princess of Qingqiu, not a maid! Fengjiu thought indignantly. Before she had the chance to retort out loud, though, Dijun was returning with a small jar and some cloth bandages.

‘And there will be rules. The Fanyin Valley is not without dangers. As you saw in the Miaohua Mirror, the chief of these is Miao Luo. So, you must follow the rules to avoid getting hurt,’ Dijun finished. For emphasis, he pointed to her wrists as he sat down, set the jar and cloth on the table, and began to slide one of her sleeves further up her arm.

‘Hey—’ Fengjiu protested weakly, but Dijun silenced her with a bemused, disdainful side-eye.

‘What is your objection? My skills are on par with Zhe Yan’s. Do you think you are the only healer?’ he challenged, albeit in a playful tone.

‘But….he’s my uncle,’ Fengjiu countered as she felt her pulse quicken at the brush of Dijun’s fingertips against her wrist while he applied cream to the bruise there.

‘Did you not heal Song Xuanren? And Ye Qingti, many times?’ Dijun pointed out, wrapping a clean strip of cloth around her wrist. ‘How is this different?’

‘If Song Xuanren had died, your whole mortal trial would have failed and Si Ming would have had trouble in starting over. I had to give you some of my cultivation,’ Fengjiu defended herself. However, Dijun’s easygoing banter with her, as well as his mention over their shared experience in the mortal realm, allowed her to relax. ‘And Qingti was my brother.’

By the time Fengjiu stopped explaining things, Dijun had already finished tending to her bruises. She inspected his work and found it was perfect. She’d have to remind herself in the future that in almost any skill there was, Dijun was probably an expert.

‘You passed your own cultivation to my mortal incarnation?’ Dijun asked, surprised.

Fengjiu nodded, folding her hands over her knees and then fiddling with her robes.

‘Dijun, you were badly wounded, enough that you would have died. Zhou Mengxi had not been able to prevent infection from setting in,’ Fengjiu confessed what she had not revealed to anyone else until now.

For several moments, Dijun regarded her quietly, a slight smile curving his lips. Fengjiu wished he would just say something, but prodding him to say what was on his mind would be rude. Finally, out of desperation, Fengjiu asked something that she had rarely ever asked in her life:

‘So, what are the rules?’

***

Xiao Bai had given him some of her cultivation to keep him alive.

In the mortal realm.

Where the use of magic typically caused immortals painful backfires. The greater the magic, the greater the backfire. And transferring cultivation to heal an injury was sophisticated magic.

Dijun felt humbled by Xiao Bai’s revelation.

He remembered how, as Song Xuanren, he had been deeply moved by Xiao Jiu’s willingness to die for Qingti. Indeed, he had envied their friendship and dedication to each other. Xiao Jiu’s death and Qingti’s grief had humbled Song Xuanren with an example of selfless love that made his own romantic obsession pale by comparison. But now, Dijun understood a greater truth.

Xiao Bai had suffered to save his life.

Xiao Bai had not just died in Qingti’s place. First, before this, she had willingly injured herself so that Song Xuanren would live.

It left him speechless.

Dijun could only stare at Xiao Bai as the flame kindled by her generosity of spirit, her dedication to those she cared for and protected, powerfully illuminated corners of his own spirit that he had left dormant for generations. His heart thumped sharply against his chest at the realization that he was one of those whom Xiao Bai cared for and protected. And he felt unworthy of her presence here in the Fanyin Valley.

The rules.

She was asking about the rules.

This simple question was one that Dijun could answer in his sleep and it finally untied his tongue.

‘Don’t wander away from this courtyard alone,’ Dijun readily listed what was required to keep Xiao Bai safe. ‘Don’t search for my shadow on your own – he is likely powerful, and may be dangerous. Don’t tell others why we are here.’

Xiao Bai’s brow furrowed. ‘Why would your shadow be dangerous?’ she asked. Her cup was empty, so Dijun refilled it for her.

‘Xiao Bai, you forget who I was,’ Dijun explained. ‘When I unified the realms, there were times when I showed no mercy. There were warlords who had terrorized their neighbors. I was the one who conquered and terrorized them. When I established the laws of Heaven, I was harsh in my judgments and showed no leniency. That is all part of me. We cannot know the character of my shadow until we find him.’

To Dijun’s surprise, this reminder of his brutal past did not make Xiao Bai wary of him. Instead, the most-endearing smile blossomed on her face and her eyes gleamed with sympathy. ‘It is hard to think of Dijun as anything but good, even if I have studied all of your achievements and know what they demanded. Whoever your shadow is here in the Fanyin Valley, he may be powerful, but I think he will be acting to protect people. It is why Zhong Lin sent this part of you here.’

It is hard to think of Dijun as anything but good…

Once again, Dijun’s heart beat in eager response to Xiao Bai’s generous faith in him. His deeds were known to her, yet she saw only the good. Just as she had treated Song Xuanren with kindness and respect in the mortal realm while so many others had pitied or ridiculed him for his humiliating obsession with Zhou Mengxi. That feverish compulsion had been the first aspect of his mortal trial that Dijun had worked to purge from his system when he had awakened. It had carried with it such a distasteful crust of misery. The memory of it now stirred a dizzying whirlwind in—

Dijun’s breathing quickened as an understanding dawned while he looked at Xiao Bai.

It wasn’t a memory that gripped him.

The same feeling was inhabiting him again.

Yet, it wasn’t exactly the same.

There was no shame in the growing warmth he was feeling. No despair. No hopelessness. Compared to what Song Xuanren had felt for his indifferent concubine, Dijun felt only the gentle purity of….becoming whole. Here in the valley where he had come in search of a part of him that had been cut away, Dijun suddenly felt restored by Xiao Bai’s presence. His spirit felt as light as Fuling petals drifting on the breeze in Bihai Cangling.

His surroundings, this moment, his mind…all focused suddenly with powerful clarity.

Dijun felt love for Xiao Bai. Love that strengthened his spirit, rather than the destructive obsession he had been afflicted with in the mortal realm.

And he didn’t know what to do.

As if Fate had a sense of humor, in that moment, Xiao Bai’s stomach let out an impatient rumble of hunger. She blushed and apologized for the embarrassing gurgle, but Dijun stilled her consternation by saying, ‘Go to the kitchen to see what provisions we have. The queen sent servants with baskets of food the other day. I will catch us a fish. We can share dinner and I will show you where you can stay.’

Chapter Text

How was this possible?

Fengjiu’s gaze roamed over the bins and shelves of fresh ingredients in the kitchen. There were peppers, carrots, cabbage, spinach, water cress, broccoli, lotus root, radish, tomatoes, potatoes, ginger, garlic…..and spring onions. How could there be spring onions in a place where winter seemed to be permanent?  From what Fengjiu had learned about the Fanyin Valley, it opened only once every sixty years. These couldn’t have been imported.

Yet, Fengjiu couldn’t imagine them growing in this icy land.

Where had they come from?

Since Dijun had been gone a good half an hour, Fengjiu decided she didn’t have time to dwell on this. She grabbed what she needed to make one of her favorite fish recipes and began chopping and blending the ingredients.

When Dijun returned shortly thereafter, the spices had been ground, the aromatics diced, and the sauce blended. Fengjiu was able to fry the fish up and season it quickly enough that by the time the rice had steamed, their main dish was ready to eat. The entire kitchen was permeated with a savory aroma that reminded Fengjiu of meals in the Fox Den when she had been very young.

As she and Dijun ate together and discussed the search for his shadow so far, Fengjiu did pay attention to the food in his dish and add more fish or rice as needed. Although his imperious declaration that she would serve him still irked her, since Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen had both taught her never to let a man talk down to her as if she were a servant, Fengjiu simply recalled how she and Qingti had kept each other’s dishes filled the many times they’d shared a meal. To preserve her dignity, she let herself imagine that this was simply looking out for Dijun as she had done for Qingti and not waiting on Dijun like a maid. It also felt very much like her meals with Zhe Yan and Bai Zhen, where they all kept each other’s dishes filled. And to her pleasant surprise….Dijun reciprocated by adding rice or fish to her dish when she had nearly eaten up her serving.

‘What are you smiling about?’

Dijun’s question stirred her out of her thoughts and Fengjiu realized she hadn’t been paying attention to what he had been saying.

‘Oh, sorry…I was just thinking of….my uncles,’ she apologized. ‘This reminds me of dinners with them.’

He nodded and echoed her faint smile. ‘A meal with family.’ Dijun emphasized this by pouring a little more wine into her cup.

‘Dijun, why haven’t you searched for your shadow these past three days?’ Fengjiu asked as she sipped the watery beverage that passed for wine in the Fanyin Valley.

To Fengjiu’s surprise, Dijun lightly rapped her forehead with his knuckle and chuckled, ‘Have you forgotten that I told you not to tell others why we are here? If I searched too openly, there would be questions. For centuries, I have followed the same routines during my visits to the Fanyin Valley. I will follow them as usual now, while being attentive to clues to my shadow’s whereabouts.’

Fengjiu rubbed her forehead and sulked for a moment, but then her spirits lifted because of how much it really was like her time with Qingti. She and her mortal friend had teased each other and engaged in a little physical roughness all the time. Was Dijun becoming friendly with her because of how she had helped him out?

Dijun might be indifferent to love…but a deep friendship with him, like what she had shared with Qingti, might be the next best thing she could hope for.

There was one way to find out….

Without warning, Fengjiu gripped Dijun’s chin with her thumb and forefinger and wiggled it slightly. ‘You can notice a lot just by walking around as usual,’ Fengjiu fired back, squinting at Dijun with plenty of cheek. ‘When did I say to do anything too out of the ordinary? Although you have a problem – I’m here. How will you explain me?’

***

Xiao Bai’s playfulness took his breath away. His chin tingled where her fingers touched it. No one had laid hands on his person since…Dijun could not even remember.

To feel her skin on his was a shock. A very pleasant shock that sparked an instant reaction. Energy crackled through his nerves and, instinctively, his hand captured her fingers as he gaped at her in playful indignation.

‘You barged in here on your own and now you ask how I will explain you?’ Dijun returned her cheek with a sly grin. ‘Fine. You’re my maid.’

‘Maid!!??!!’ Xiao Bai huffed at him, the challenge in her eyes kindling a fire in his chest. ‘Does Dijun no longer care about peace in the realms? This would certainly turn Qingqiu against Heaven Kingdom.’

She tried to tug her fingers away from his grip, but he only held her hand more firmly. Still smiling, he arched his eyebrows and conceded, ‘It might, indeed. Then we need another reason for you to be part of my household….’

Xiao Bai waited for him to suggest something, but Dijun had learned the value of strategic silences long, long ago. After a few moments, a faint blush tinted Xiao Bai’s cheeks and she glanced at where he held her hand. He let her squirm for a bit before releasing her hand.

‘Calling you my physician would suggest that I am in poor health, and that is not a rumor that it would be wise to circulate,’ he said at last. ‘But who else would I have brought to live with me in the Fanyin Valley…?’

The flush in Xiao Bai’s cheeks deepened and she glanced away, focusing her gaze steadily on a corner of the table. It only made Dijun’s heart thrum faster to see how his teasing affected her.

Was she shy? Or…could it be that she felt something for him….?

At last, he proposed, ‘How would it be if we tell others that you are my student?’

Xiao Bai’s gaze snapped to him, her brow knitted with impatience. ‘Dijun, you’ve never taken on a student in a million years,’ she pointed out, all shyness gone.

‘That does not mean that I cannot try something new,’ he countered. ‘You are to be a monarch, future queen of the kingdom that was destined for your aunt, Bai Qian. Why shouldn’t I help you, since future rule has only come to you recently when your aunt married into Heaven?’

Xiao Bai tilted her head thoughtfully and nodded. ‘That might be convincing. But why would you need to teach me here?’

‘Shouldn’t you answer this, since it was your idea to break in here?’ Dijun pointed out.

He was pleased to see that Xiao Bai didn’t shrink from his challenge. She tapped her chin for a moment before suggesting, ‘I had already heard about the long winter here from the Second Prince of the Western Sea. It’s a serious misfortune to befall the Biyiniao Kingdom. As a future queen, maybe I was interested to learn what happened and see how Dijun would resolve the matter, so I could safeguard my own people?’

Dijun nodded. ‘Not bad. It is settled then.’

He showed Xiao Bai to her room and left her for the evening, with the agreement that their first outing in the morning would be to the market. Her curiosity about how the Biyiniao managed to have fresh vegetables in spite of the perpetual winter in the valley, and a shield that kept them cut off from other realms for all but a brief window of time once every sixty years, was indeed warranted. It may be a clue to the whereabouts of his shadow.

As Dijun crossed the snowy courtyard to return to his own room, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder at Xiao Bai’s closed doors.

She was certainly a clever one.

***

Fengjiu curled up under the cozy quilt on her bed, jittery over all that had happened in her first day in the Fanyin Valley. Dijun hadn’t been angry that she was trespassing in a place that was generally closed off to other immortals. He might have scolded her, but he’d also teased her.

If she didn’t know better, she might even think he’d been flirting with her.

He held her hand.

Fengjiu sighed and pressed her hands over her face while kicking her legs beneath the covers.

When she’d thrashed the giddiness out of her system, she drew in a deep breath and sighed.

Of course, she did know better. Thanks to Zhe Yan, she knew more about Dijun than most people. Dijun played pranks on people. He definitely pushed them to test their reactions. But he didn’t flirt. Although his mortal incarnation had loved deeply, to the point of obsession, that had been Si Ming’s doing.

Dijun was the one who tossed women out of his bed and who had been indifferent to love entanglements for a thousand generations.

He was just…

…just…

…being familiar.

And offering to teach her.

It was true that Dijun was treating her differently than he treated others. Fengjiu could see that.

He held her hand.

But she couldn’t let the fact that she loved him overshadow her judgment.

She’d come here to help him.

She’d come here to be near him and look out for him while his spirit was still fragmented.

And that would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

Snakes.

Why did it have to be snakes?

After the two days that Fengjiu had accompanied Dijun in the Biyiniao capital, their paths had led here: a forest glade outside the city where four, giant pythons menaced any who approached.

Vendors at the market had all spoken openly enough about where their fresh fruits and vegetables came from. One after another, they had described the stone columns in the woods to the southeast. They had mentioned farmers who came from a mystical ward once a week, carting piles of produce to the market. And the vendors even warned about the snakes who prevented all but the farmers from daring to enter the ward.

But the response to Fengjiu’s simple question was always a curious silence.

‘Why do the farmers live within the ward? Where did it come from?’

Fengjiu must have asked that question a dozen times.

One merchant merely smiled, accepted her coins, and handed her a few bunches of spring onions.

A second answered, ‘I’m a simple man, I don’t know these things. But I hear the weather is good for growing food in the ward.’

Yet another just turned aside and said, ‘Maybe another time – I have to help this other customer.’

And so, Fengjiu was left with a basket of fresh, gorgeous produce for preparing tasty dinners, but not many clues as to why the valley was blanketed by ice and snow while all farming was done inside a ward. It made her even more curious about this mysterious ward.

And naturally, Dijun decided that if the Biyiniao were going to be cagey about something, he would investigate it personally – which was how Fengjiu ended up far, far closer to a mammoth python than she ever wanted to be in her life. When she and Dijun had first approached the ward, she saw two enormous pythons coiled around the trunk of a massive tree. Yet, out of nowhere it seemed, two other giant serpents lunged at them without warning. Caught unprepared, Fengjiu shrieked with fright and leaped out of the way just in time to avoid being slapped by a heavy, scaly tail. Panicked and wailing, she hid behind a tree, cowering to an extent that would embarrass her later.

Dijun merely held the pythons at bay with a shield of power and glanced over his shoulder at her. The amused expression on his face made Fengjiu clench her jaw in frustration. She would have been ashamed for any of her family to see her like this; she was definitely losing face for the Bai Clan, which prided itself on its bravery and martial prowess. But Fengjiu had once stumbled over snakes when she was out one night and the encounter had given her an irrational fear of any slithering things ever since.

‘You raced into battle to save Song Xuanren’s life and took a demon blade meant for Qingti, but flee from two snakes?’ Dijun remarked lightheartedly enough that it wounded Fengjiu’s pride and stirred up her ire.

‘Those aren’t just snakes – they’re monsters! And there are four, you know!’ Fengjiu snapped defensively.

To Fengjiu’s dismay and growing embarrassment, Dijun’s smile merely widened at this, although he also arched his eyebrows, tilted his chin and mused, ‘Two of them held back. You are really afraid of monsters while I am here?’

Sheepishly, Fengjiu frowned and nodded her head. She felt foolish. She felt like a 500 year-old kit. But she also felt an instinctive urge to flee from any and all snakes. It was an impulse that was very difficult to master. So, all she could do was mumble, ‘I’m deathly afraid of snakes, Dijun. Please don’t laugh at me.’

Dijun’s expression seemed slightly less judgmental after she confessed her deep-seated fear of snakes. While still holding the swaying pythons at bay with his spell, Dijun stepped back to where she was and stood shoulder to shoulder with her for a few moments. It was a quiet solidarity that reminded her of how she and Qingti used to be with each other.

And then, Dijun nudged her with his elbow and teased, ‘What would Qingti say?’

Fengjiu hadn’t realized that Song Xuanren had observed her and Qingti so closely that he was familiar with their unspoken, shared gestures and stances. But it made her feel a little less anxious. She smiled and nudged Dijun back. ‘He’d ask me what the other monks would say.’

The pythons bobbed their heads and slowly slid from side to side on the other side of Dijun’s shield, a serpentine version of pacing. Their partners around the tree just….stared. Occasionally, one of the forward pythons lunged Fengjiu or Dijun, but only bumped its snout up against the unyielding power of Dijun’s spell. As Fengjiu, Dijun, and the pythons all studied each other, Dijun assured her, ‘I am here. You’re safe.’

Fengjiu’s cheeks flushed but she swallowed her infatuated smile.

Was this Dijun reminding her that anyone would be under his protection in the face of danger, or was he caring about her?

If she didn’t focus on something other than his arm…and his hip…brushing against her side, Fengjiu risked embarrassing herself even more than she had over the snakes.

‘Why do snakes want to live near a ward, anyway?’ she grumbled, fussing with her sleeve. ‘Does it keep them warm in the cold?’

His eyes fixed on the pythons, Dijun shook his head and answered, ‘The ward may hold the valley’s warmth within it, but it radiates none on this side.’

He stood with his arm outstretched and palm facing the ward, so Fengjiu knew he was gauging the ward’s strength on many levels.

‘But then, why do they stay here?’ Fengjiu persisted.

‘The more interesting question is, who keeps them here to guard the pimpon tree?’ Dijun countered.

Fengjiu’s eyes narrowed and she looked more carefully at the glade where the pythons had ensconced themselves. She had reacted to her fear, so she hadn’t studied the position of the pythons the way she ought to have. Fengjiu could almost feel Zhe Yan’s knuckles rapping lightly against her forehead. There was something she should see…

She thought of the ward…the two pythons attacking….the two wrapped protectively around the trunk of the pimpon tree…

‘Someone who is worried that just a ward wouldn’t be enough,’ Fengjiu observed at last. ‘Someone who is planning against an attack from someone powerful enough to get past two pythons…then another two…and break into a ward.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Fengjiu spied Dijun smiling with approval. She turned her face toward him a bit more and was momentarily captured by his eyes, as he had also allowed himself a glance at her.

‘Yet someone who also permits farmers to come and go so that the inhabitants of this valley will have food to eat,’ Dijun pointed out.

‘It’s a person who is protecting the people here as well as the pimpon tree,’ Fengjiu guessed. ‘And they’re expecting someone as strong as you are. Four pythons and a ward….’

‘A very strong and well-crafted ward,’ Dijun agreed. ‘It is a good thing that you cook.’

Fengjiu blinked and stared owl-eyed at Dijun. Had he suddenly been overome with hunger?

He returned her gaze with a playful smirk. ‘You took note of the fresh vegetables and it led us here. If I am not mistaken, we will find my shadow inside that ward. It is powerful enough that even I cannot enter it without studying it further.’

‘Not to mention the snakes….’ Fengjiu added, gesturing skittishly toward the pythons.

Dijun shook his head. ‘I will be able to command the pythons. But great care will be needed to enter the ward without breaking it and endangering the lives of the farmers who reside within.’

‘How long will you need?’ Fengjiu asked.

Dijun surprised Fengjiu by grasping her lightly by the hand and drawing her several steps away from the ward and the pythons. Scarcely had she blinked her eyes when he phased them both back to their shared courtyard.

‘A few days,’ Dijun answered, as if they were still back in the pythons’ glade. ‘You have had a scare and should rest. Are you able to prepare a meal for us, or shall I--?’

‘No…no, I’m fine,’ Fengjiu insisted hastily. She did not remember Dijun’s cooking all that fondly. ‘A rabbit and vegetable stew will be easy.’

Later that evening, after a light but satisfying meal, she lay awake in her bed, once again unable to fall asleep easily because of her thoughts about Dijun.

I am here. You are safe.

Why did his voice have to sound as smooth and luxurious as a silk cloak that she could wrap around her to shield herself from a storm?

Chapter Text

The night was clear and cool as Dijun meditated in a snowy clearing by a frozen lake.

There were things he needed to contemplate in stillness.

More importantly, he needed to cultivate and he did not want to disturb Xiao Bai while she slept. The light that surrounded him when he cultivated intensively could wake her.

Dijun had sensed traces of Miao Luo in the glade when he had studied the ward to discern the type of magic that sustained it. That there were similarities with his own magic made him fairly certain that his shadow was the ward’s creator. But Dijun had also discerned a sinister energy at multiple points just outside the ward that suggested Miao Luo had somehow been poking and prodding at this ward, despite being firmly restrained in the prison Dijun had built for her.

So, Miao Luo had grown strong enough to cast projections.

And she is interested in the pimpon tree.

As Dijun cultivated, a pale moon slowly crossed the sky, rising to its apex and then entering its descent after midnight. Its light mirrored his own while he sat in a perfectly motionless lotus pose that belied his inner activity. His spirit cultivated fiercely, for he could feel a dark unease gathering nearby. Miao Luo’s presence was on the prowl. What form it took, Dijun did not yet know. That was irrelevant. What would matter was the degree of power Miao Luo would be able to leverage when she engaged him.

Zhong Lin had been understandably worried that she would act up while Dijun had been recovering through a mortal trial. She was finding ways to build her strength and extend her reach beyond her confinement.

And then…

Fingertips grazed his neck and teased their way down to his collarbone.

For a moment, Dijun’s pulse quickened and he thought of how Xiao Bai’s skin felt when her fingers had pinched his chin. Xiao Bai.

His lips parted and he exhaled.

And for an instant, it was Xiao Bai’s fingertips awakening the heat in his skin.

But he swiftly clamped down on that illusion, for he knew who it really was.

‘Why don’t you look at me, Dong Hua?’ a cruel voice whispered in his ear.

Dijun remained calm and focused, his gaze directed to the blank expanse of snow on the ground. Miao Luo’s projection could do no real harm to him, as it was far weaker than she was. It was merely toying with him to gather information on his strength that would be of use to the original Miao Luo.

‘You’re so unromantic,’ the projection purred against his cheek. ‘I’ll be disappointed if you don’t look at me, Dong Hua.’

He felt the tendrils of Miao Luo’s malevolence drifting down his arm and chest, surrounding him like a whiff of incense. Dijun silently countered it as he and the projection engaged in a subtle, spiritual dual. As a protective measure for the inhabitants of the Fanyin Valley, he raised a barrier to contain Miao Luo’s essence and prevent it from spreading beyond this clearing.

‘Is that a weakness I feel, Dong Hua? Right about…’ Miao Luo’s projection hissed in his ear as it slid its hand over his heart, ‘….here?’

Dijun remained immobile and offered no response other than a slight surge of his own cultivation. For a moment, the projection tensed in pain.

However, a moment later, it was he who tensed at the realization that someone was approaching. With every fiber of his being, Dijun willed it not to be Xiao Bai. Anyone but her.

He did not want her here, where it was so dangerous for her.

But there was something unmistakable in the air whenever she was near. Dijun knew Xiao Bai had come.

‘Why are you here?’ Dijun asked.

Xiao Bai did not answer him. But Miao Luo’s projection filled the silence. ‘What’s this? How heartless you are, Dong Hua! Inviting another woman to our date? Am I not enough for you?’

Dijun was poised to force Miao Luo’s projection off of him and attack her physically when Xiao Bai stepped forward and summoned a sword. He regretted not having raised a full-fledged ward instead of a barrier. 

Xiao Bai, run, you don’t know what danger you’re in.

‘Who are you?’ Xiao Bai demanded in a low voice, shaded with a fox’s growl.

‘Girl, do you really want to watch me spend the night with Dong Hua?’ Miao Luo’s projection taunted. The distraction momentarily halted the assault of its sinister power against Dijun's spirit.

‘You may look like you’re being intimate with each other,’ Xiao Bai conceded, although there was no naivete in her voice at all. If anything, her stern indifference reminded him of Xiao Jiu in the mortal realm. ‘But the lines of power flowing between you are signs that you’re actually locked in battle – a tough, spiritual fight.’

Run, Xiao Bai…

‘If it’s a fight you want, I’ll give it to you,’ Miao Luo’s projection sneered. In the blink of an eye, it abandoned Dijun and launched itself at Xiao Bai.

Dijun rose to his feet, ready to intervene, but he was momentarily enchanted by the sight of Xiao Bai in her white sleeping robes holding her own against the projection.

Breathlessly, he watched as an image of Miao Luo in full battle gear hurled what looked like red damasks at Xiao Bai. They were merely manifestations of Miao Luo’s lethal energy, but they were fast and capable of inflicting great harm. With a single, beautiful sweep of her sword, Xiao Bai slashed them into useless fragments. Dijun’s heart quivered like a reed in the wind. Her swordcraft was energetic yet elegant. Xiao Bai chased Miao Luo’s projection around the clearing as if she were hunting a rabbit, pushing off of trees and soaring through the air.

Dijun was so enraptured by the display of Xiao Bai’s bravery and tactics – much like Xiao Jiu’s, only more fluid and graceful – that he forgot the danger she faced. Even diluted as a mere projection, Miao Luo was no rabbit.

As if to prove his point, Miao Luo’s projection, more cunning than his enchanting fox, hurled a damask that wrapped itself tightly around Xiao Bai.

He could have easily stepped in at this point, destroyed Miao Luo’s projection, and freed Xiao Bai. Looking back on it all later, Dijun would not be able to explain why he reacted differently. But something made him hold back and offer her advice – and power.

‘In every action, the mind should move before the hand. The sword must be drawn by the mind. That’s what it takes to win the battle.’

The words were ancient. He had written them down in a treatise on military strategy generations ago, and they were now studied in every school in the realms. Perhaps, Xiao Bai already understood them.

Dijun gave her something more. A brief surge of magical power channeled from his own reserves into her.

And she burst free of the damask that encircled of her with the force of a thunderclap.

Dijun smiled, his eyes riveted to the goddess who moved him like no one ever had.

But then, Miao Luo’s projection grew vicious. It drew Xiao Bai close before slamming her in the gut and hurling her back so forcefully that Xiao Bai doubled over in pain. To Dijun’s dismay, in that moment, Xiao Bai’s red birthmark glimmered with a strange energy – one that Miao Luo’s projection quickly took note of in a disturbing way.

Xiao Bai had just become interesting to Miao Luo; the danger to her was now much greater.

And sure enough, Miao Luo’s projection began to test Xiao Bai for weaknesses that it could leverage.

Starting with Dijun, himself.

The red damasks that surged toward him posed no real threat. Dijun could disintegrate them with less energy than it would take to blink his eyes once. Yet, Xiao Bai turned his world upside down when she swept him out of the way and pushed him up against a tree. He felt a slight sting where one edge of the damask had nicked his arm. It was minor compared to the storm in his heart.

Xiao Bai had put herself between him and a deadly threat, just as she had for Qingti.

As Dijun looked down into her eyes…Xiao Bai’s lovely eyes…he could see that he meant as much to her as Qingti did. She protected those she cared for. The revelation left him as light-headed as if he’d drunk a bottle of ancient liquor that had been brewed by the Father of the Gods.

When Dijun saw Miao Luo’s projection fire another damask at the two of them, he spun Xiao Bai and himself safely away. Then, his hand moved on its own, seeking hers out to cover it and join her in gripping the hilt of her sword. Dijun event dared to wrap his other arm around Xiao Bai’s waist and grip her side with his hand.

Moving as one with Xiao Bai, he raised her sword and murmured in her ear, ‘Watch closely.’

Together, they fought back Miao Luo’s projection, although in truth it felt more like an effortless, harmonious dance. Dijun corrected Xiao Bai’s sword stroke only once and, in a heartbeat, the two of them destroyed the projection with a single, lethal sweep of the blade. It vanished in a swirl of smoke, but Miao Luo’s cackles echoed through the sky.

Dijun’s ancient enemy had gained information to exploit.

As he and Xiao Bai stood together, breathing quietly, their hands still joined around the hilt of her lowered sword, Xiao Bai asked, ‘Who was the banshee?’

She sent away her sword and began to step away, but Dijun stopped her by capturing both wrists in his grip. As he examined her from head to toe for injuries, he chided, ‘What were you doing out so late? Did you forget the rules that you agreed to?’

Surprisingly, Xiao Bai did not try to pull away from him, even though her narrowed eyes suggested that she wanted to. All she did, though, was scold Dijun in return. ‘How have I broken any rules? I haven’t left the courtyard alone, I’m with you. And I came looking for you, not your shadow. Besides, didn’t you say that you are here, so I’m safe? Look at you though – you’re the one who’s bleeding.’

Dijun glanced at his left arm and saw a reddish-gold, thin stripe seeping through the sleeve of his robes where a damask had sliced him. He’d been careless.

‘It’s nothing. I’ve survived duels with Miao Luo before. But how could you be so careless with your own safety by challenging an opponent whose strength you don’t yet know? How is it that you flee from a pair of snakes but charge in to attack a demon who is far more dangerous?’ Dijun countered, his voice and his grip on Xiao Bai’s wrists gentle but firm.

She had put herself in harm’s way for him.

Just as Xiao Jiu had taken a blade meant for Qingti.

Not surprisingly, this brave goddess who hadn’t feared Miao Luo was also not intimidated by him. Xiao Bai tugged her hands free of his loose grip and poked him twice in the chest, frowning up at him defiantly as she turned her attention to his wound. Dijun readily surrendered his arm to her as Xiao Bai seized hold of it to check it.

‘Stop acting like you’re all tough and I’m a weakling who can’t handle a fight when you’re the one bleeding,’ Xiao Bai scolded him in the same, good-natured tone that he remembered her using with Qingti in the mortal realm. ‘Let me take you back and patch you up.’

Wordlessly, Dijun nodded, yielding to her willingly. He stepped close to her again, wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her against him, and phased the two of them back to his rooms in their shared courtyard.

The astonished look in Xiao Bai’s lovely eyes was priceless.

Chapter Text

‘Ow! Tong!’

Fengjiu frowned in disbelief when Dijun flinched as she applied medicine to his wound. He sat on the divan in his entry room, his left sleeve rolled up well past his elbow, while she did her best to use a light touch with the applicator. And yet, he flinched!

‘How can you be the same Dijun famous for fighting battles with three arrows buried in your side? Or for subduing the Great Serpent of the Southern Pools while your leg was broken? How can you whimper over this little scratch?’ Fengjiu huffed, even though she dabbed even more lightly.

‘It stings, and your paddle has a sharp edge,’ Dijun mumbled. Fengjiu found his mournful pout uncharacteristically childish. It made her grin as she remembered how outrageous she had been as a young kit when she’d been sick. She had whined pitiably to get her mother to dote on her, until she had gone to stay with her uncles and Zhe Yan had put his foot down.

And it seemed Dijun was no better than she’d been!

It was already hard enough to maintain her composure while she held his bare arm, the sleeve rolled up to his shoulder. To treat Dijun even more gently than she could with the tiny, jade ointment paddle would require her to use her finger, just as her mother had done for her. But with Dijun making such a fuss, it seemed like she had no choice.

‘Big baby,’ she teased him, even as it made her blush to pat the cooling medicine on his cut with her fingertip. Dijun stopped complaining, though, and rested his hand on her shoulder to steady his arm.

Dijun tilted his chin up, mustering a bit of defiant dignity, but said nothing. The twitch at the corner of his lips hinted at his satisfaction.

So, Fengjiu indulged him.

‘That was Miao Luo?’ she asked while she reached for another vial of tonic on her tray and patted it around the edges of Dijun’s wound with her fingers.

‘Mm,’ he confirmed, watching as she tended to his tiny wound.

‘But…she hasn’t escaped?’ Fengjiu ventured, guessing that Dijun would not be sitting here like this if such a great threat to the realms were on the loose.

‘Miao Luo hasn’t escaped. That was a projection – somewhat like a shadow, but less independent,’ Dijun reassured her, his eyes meeting hers while she started wrapping a clean cloth over the cut. His blood really was as they said – gold mingled with red.

Fengjiu neatly tied-off Dijun’s bandage, feeling the subtle tightening of his grip on her shoulder as her fingers fiddled with the cloth. When she was finished, she left her hand resting over his wound, sending out just a tiny bit of cultivation as her fingers soothed the tight muscles in his upper arm. ‘Why did Miao Luo send her projection into the valley tonight? Is it because you’re here?’

Dijun nodded. Silently, he raised his free hand and Fengjiu felt him channeling a little of his own, radiant cultivation toward her midsection, right where the tough strike from Miao Luo’s projection had left a sore bruise. The mood felt very intimate as they healed each other, even moreso than the times in the mortal realm when Fengjiu and Qingti had patched each other up after sparring or minor skirmishes.

‘It is that,’ Dijun acknowledged after a few moments. ‘But I also detected many traces of Miao Luo’s energy near the ward surrounding the pimpon tree. I suspect she has entered the valley many times.’

‘What would Miao Luo want with the pimpon tree?’ Fengjiu wondered.

She was beginning to feel too comfortable being with Dijun like this, even if she was seated separately on a stool. The bruise on her midsection also seemed to be fully healed, so Fengjiu reluctantly drew her hands away from Dijun’s arm and scooted back slightly. He lowered his eyes, dropped his hand from her shoulder, and began to roll down his sleeve.

‘The pimpon is a mystical tree. It bears a single fruit each year, infused with the pimpon’s magic. It has been used to prolong or restore youth, replenish energy, and even a few times to create an immortal body,’ Dijun explained. ‘There are many reasons that Miao Luo might wish to use such a thing.’

‘Then, it’s likely that the ward and the pythons were put in place to keep Miao Luo from getting it,’ Fengjiu concluded. She understood why Dijun suspected that the ward’s creator was none other than his own shadow. After all, she and Dijun had seen in the Miaohua Mirror that his shadow was sent to the Fanyin Valley to keep Miao Luo from causing trouble. The person that Dijun’s shadow had become must have had strong instincts to oppose Miao Luo in anything she did.

Dijun smoothed the robe over his sleeve and patted his arm lightly. Fengjiu’s eyes met his. He nodded toward where she’d bandaged him and said, ‘Not bad.’

Fengjiu smiled at him.

‘My uncle’s first lesson was that the healer just prepares the patient to get rest. Healing takes place on its own – but, the patient has to rest. I should let you sleep now,’ she excused herself, getting up to leave.

‘Xiao Bai…’ Dijun’s voice had a way of coursing through Fengjiu’s veins when he said her name like that. She paused and tried to keep her expression disinterested when he rose from the divan and stepped close to her.

He brushed a finger against her forehead and Fengjiu felt a veil of energy waft over her, as gentle as a breath.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, her skin tingling.

‘The Tiancang Shield,’ Dijun answered, his eyes scanning her as if searching for flaws or gaps. ‘It will protect you should Miao Luo send another projection.’

Fengjiu’s heart thudded so hard that it felt like it had worked its way up into her throat. The idea that Dijun had placed something so valuable around her – one of his legendary devices that she had studied in school – stole her breath so that she could only nod in reply. Flustered, Fengjiu tried to manage something as basic as walking, but kept glancing over her shoulder at Dijun. Which was how she nearly tripped over the threshhold.

Nearly.

As Fengjiu felt herself lurching clumsily into a fall, Dijun was suddenly on the porch outside his room, catching her in his arms.

And everything stopped.

Fengjiu’s heart. Her breathing. The entire world around her.

She was only aware of Dijun’s embrace and his eyes looking into hers.

And the fact that he held her for several moments. Longer than he would have needed to just steady her.

He’s holding me because he wants to, not because he has to, Fengjiu realized.

It left her more topsy-turvy than when she’d first tripped.

But at last, he set her back on her feet and let her stand on her own. Although it was the right thing to do and Fengjiu was grateful for it, a small part of her was disappointed.

‘Good night,’ Fengjiu managed to choke out, her face flushed and warm.

Dijun nodded in acknowledgment, and breathed, ‘Good night.’

Fengjiu might have floated across the courtyard. She wasn’t certain.

But she would need that lightness, that heady discovery that Dijun seemed….to like her…when they finally found his shadow.

It took Dijun two full days of studying the ward before he discovered how to enter it without damaging it. Fengjiu spent most of that time waiting in the courtyard they shared, although Dijun did accompany her to the market each evening. Although it was hard to focus on anything other than the fact that he held her hand while they strolled from stall to stall, Fengjiu noticed that none of the merchants were the same. The woman who had sold her eggs had been replaced by a man. In place of the youth who had sold her greens there was now an old man. And at the stall where Fengjiu had bought rice, instead of a mother with her son, there was a father with his daughter. Once again, no one gave answers as to where the other people had gone.

Even when she and Dijun sat side-by-side in the royal court of the Biyiniao two days later, discussing Dijun’s intention to enter the ward, the Biyiniao queen was evasive. Queen Junuo also tried to persuade the two of them not to make the attempt.

‘Dijun, you are simply too powerful,’ the beautiful but cold queen insisted as politely as she could. ‘The ward rejects any with great power who try to enter it. If you break it, I fear for the survival of our pimpon tree, a treasure of the Fanyin Valley and one of the few remaining in all the realms.’

The queen’s words were eloquent and flattered Dijun while still opposing him. But there was a painful edge to Xiangli Junuo’s voice that struck Fengjiu as severe and lonely. Fengjiu noted that the queen sat on the throne by herself; there was no king or prince consort. And the court was empty save for a few, quiet officials.

‘I have found a way for Xiao Bai and I to enter safely,’ Dijun countered, his tone smooth but firm.

Queen Junuo frowned but said nothing, only lowering her eyes in reluctant deference. ‘As Dijun insists. But, would it not be safer for your….to stay here?’

Fengjiu’s cheeks warmed at Queen Junuo’s uncertainty about how to describe the relationship between her and Dijun. The two of them hadn’t really spoken about it. They had just quietly accepted the shift in their companionship and Fengjiu had been too unsure of herself to speak up.

‘Xiao Bai is someone I trust and with whom I have fought against a power that has menaced your kingdom for generations,’ Dijun explained, leaving Fengjiu feeling even warmer.

His words, which were high praise that were spoken with affection, encouraged Fengjiu and made her feel strong, capable of taking on any challenge.

Yet they still didn’t prepare her for what they found when Dijun finally managed to open a gateway into the ward after they left the Biyiniao royal court. Cleverly, Dijun bent and deflected the ward so that it formed a wall around the pythons, giving Fengjiu and Dijun safe passage.

As she and Dijun had expected, inside the ward they found a beautiful, green valley in the peak of summer, bathed in the warmth and sunlight that had abandoned the real Fanyin Valley.

But to Fengjiu’s great distress, they were also confronted by a grim figure who might have been Dijun’s dark-haired twin…

…except for the deep, jagged scar across his face and the fact that he had lost his left arm below the elbow. His expression was fierce and unyielding, what Fengjiu imagined Dijun might have looked like during the wars in which he had unified the realms.

When he spoke, chills ran along Fengjiu’s spine.

‘Who are you that dare to violate the sanctity of my ward?’

Beside her, Dijun declared in a clear, resolute voice, ‘I am Dong Hua Dijun, unifier of the immortal realms and former Great King of Heaven. Who are you?’

The hardened, intimidating man shifted his stance, the tension in his body lessening slightly as he bowed in acknowledgment. When he straightened up to look Dijun in the eye again, he offered a greeting that was more stately and sincere than the one they had received from Queen Junuo.

‘All honor to you, Dijun. I beg you to forgive me for offending you, but I am the protector of the people of the Fanyin Valley, and there is an evil that has plagued them for generations. My name is Shen Ye, and I am the Archmage of the Biyiniao.’

Chapter Text

A mother and her son, their pants rolled up to their knees, waded in muddy water tending their rice plants. Fengjiu recognized them from the marketplace in the snowy Fanyin Valley outside the ward. As she, Dijun, and the Biyiniao Archmage who had introduced himself as Shen Ye walked toward his residence, she saw other people she recognized. In a fenced yard further down the dirt path, there was an old woman feeding chickens, who had sold eggs to Fengjiu the other day. Still further, at a table outside a modest home, a familiar youth sat bundling greens into straw baskets, while inside his home a woman who might have been his mother stirred a pot of porridge while watching over a small girl.

‘This is the Fanyin Valley as it was generations ago,’ Dijun observed.

Shen Ye nodded. ‘I reproduced conditions as best as I could, so that the lives of the common people would be disrupted only a little. Families live in the ward as they used to, and members of each household take turns supplying those outside with necessities.’

‘But why are things like this?’ Fengjiu asked, perplexed at the need for such a system at all.

They had reached a modest villa, small but elegant in its simplicity, where a scholar might live. Shen Ye ushered them through the gate where a single maid in soft, peach robes greeted them before hurrying off to brew a pot of tea to serve the three of them. Shen Ye gestured for Dijun and Fengjiu to sit with him at a low, wooden table in the garden near a gnarled tree.

‘There is an evil power who began lurking in the Fanyin Valley when I was a child,’ Shen Ye explained, his battered body settling onto a cusion with effort. ‘At first, she was a fleeting figure, barely seen or remembered by anyone. But when I began studying with my Master, Lord Xize, his training allowed me to sense her malevolent influence. There were occasions of strife, even cruelty, among the Biyiniao. Things that had not happened before. Each time, I had sensed the presence of this being, who I suspect is a demon.’

The maid returned, carrying a steaming pot of tea and three cups on a tray. She held it out for Shen Ye. One-handed, he took one cup at a time and set them on the table. As he reached for the teapot, Dijun said, ‘Allow me.’

Shen Ye yielded and acknowledged, ‘Dijun is a master of the art of tea.’

As Dijun poured the tea and placed cups in front of Fengjiu and Shen Ye, he explained, ‘The evil power is Miao Luo. She is an ancient demon I have fought for tens of thousands of years. Although I have sealed her, her power has grown to the point that she can send projections of herself into areas near her prison.’

‘So…you created this ward to protect the Biyiniao people from Miao Luo?’ Fengjiu guessed.

‘My first duty is to protect the people of the Fanyin Valley,’ Shen Ye acknowledged. He sipped his tea, then set down his cup. ‘However, from the moment that I first encountered this Miao Luo, I felt a deep need to oppose her. I studied her intrusions into the valley and discovered a pattern. She had been trying to get to the pimpon tree, but was initially repelled by its natural guardians. The pimpon is treasured by the Biyiniao, and it is also one of the few survivors of its kind in all the realms. I had to make its fruit inaccessible to her without destroying the tree itself.’

‘But…’ Fengjiu objected, furrowing her brow. ‘The pimpon tree is not here, inside this ward. How is it protected?’

‘The protection was never the ward, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun deduced, and in his eyes when he regarded Shen Ye, Fengjiu spied a flame of respect. ‘It was the winter.’

For the first time since they had encountered Shen Ye, Fengjiu watched as this hardened, scarred man softened and bowed his head humbly to Dijun. ‘Nothing escapes your wisdom, Dijun,’ Shen Ye acknowledged. ‘It was the fruit that Miao Luo wanted. So, I covered the Fanyin Valley in winter to render the pimpon tree dormant. It has not produced a fruit since then. But I left it inside a lesser ward, guarded by the pythons, who are my allies in this.’

‘And you created this greater ward for the sake of the Biyiniao,’ Dijun concluded, pouring more tea for Shen Ye, whose cup was empty. The Archmage smiled awkwardly. From Fengjiu’s point of view, he seemed overwhelmed by Dijun’s praise, yet had forgotten how to smile.

‘They are my people, Dijun. I am their protector. How could I abandon them to the desolation of a perpetual winter?’ Shen Ye demurred. His eyes clouded momentarily with pain and lowered to his cup. ‘It is even something that I would not wish on my enemies.’

‘Why does anyone live out there at all?’ Fengjiu asked.

Shen Ye regarded her hesitantly, then glanced at Dijun as if seeking permission. Dijun explained, ‘Living beings cannot thrive inside a ward forever, Xiao Bai.’

Nodding in agreement, Shen Ye added, as if struggling with tact, ‘This is an artificial world, Dihou. Even the plants cannot thrive here forever. I allow the farmers and merchants to come and go so that the life energy of the Fanyin Valley can be replenished in here.’

Fengjiu stiffened. Dihou?!?

As a rosy flush crept across her skin, Dijun rested his hand oh hers and topped of the tea in her cup.

Doing nothing at all to dispel Shen Ye’s assumption.

Worse, when the maid emerged from the main hall of Shen Ye’s small villa, she, too, made the same assumption and asked if she should prepare a room for Dijun and Dihou.

‘We’re not—’ Fengjiu began, but Dijun also spoke.

‘We’re not staying for long. Miao Luo is my responsibility, and seeing what Shen Ye has done to safeguard the Biyiniao – and the realms – from her ambitions has made it clear that there is much to be done.’

Shen Ye once again smiled awkwardly, almost blushing, as if he was unused to praise. Or to happiness, for that matter. He murmured for his maid, Cha Cha, to prepare a private sitting room for their use should they have need of it, but – thankfully – no bedroom. Even though Fengjiu herself felt awkward because of the misunderstanding, she couldn’t hold back from offering Shen Ye a little sympathy.

‘You have had a hard life, but your sacrifices have benefitted many.’

Bowing to Fengjiu graciously, Shen Ye struck her as almost shy. His eyes flitted away as if he couldn’t trust himself to look at her. ‘Dihou is kind. Fate gave me more than many; I could not waste what I had on selfishness. I despise those with power who use it for selfishness.’

Something fierce in Shen Ye’s tone prompted Dijun to remark, ‘Oh?’

For Fengjiu, the hard set to Shen Ye’s eyes summoned a memory of one of Zhe Yan’s teachings about healing. Some wounds just scratch the surface; some go as deep as the bone. The worst cut to the heart.

‘Shen Ye, I hope you will forgive me for asking,’ Fengjiu ventured delicately, nodding to the dangling sleeve of his robe. ‘How did you lose your arm?’

The Archmage clenched his jaw as his eyes darkened. ‘I cut it off.’

Fengjiu couldn’t prevent herself from gasping. Dijun, however, calmly sipped his tea, as if such a thing were unsurprising.

‘For what reason?’ Dijun prompted.

‘I say this without enmity, for she has repented her folly,’ Shen Ye began, resting his remaining hand on his knee, steadying himself. ‘She was also seduced by Miao Luo, who discovered her infatuation and sought to twist it to serve her own efforts to kill me.’

‘Who?’ Fengjiu marveled, wondering which Biyiniao could have been manipulated by Miao Luo to such disastrous effect for Shen Ye.

‘Queen Junuo,’ Shen Ye answered, his voice stoic and remarkably free of bitterness. His eyes took on a distant look as he recalled events that Fengjiu imagined were deeply traumatic for him. ‘First, I must tell you that I was born into my tribe with greater power than any Biyiniao has ever been known to have. Fate blessed me with gifts that others could only envy. Magic seemed to spring from my fingertips. It is for this reason that Lord Xize prepared me to serve my people as their Archmage. When she was younger, still a princess, Queen Junuo became infatuated with me because of this power. She sought to arouse in me the same feelings, but…in my life, I have never felt the spark of affection for any woman.’

Shen Ye’s fleeting glance between Fengjiu and Dijun managed to make her blush and feel pity for him all at the same time.

‘Through Princess Junuo’s obsession, the one you have called Miao Luo was able to seize hold of her mind and plant seductive ideas. Somehow, Junuo came to possess a deadly poison that she believed to be a love potion, which she fed to me deceptively in the hopes of provoking my response to her affections,’ Shen Ye continued. ‘Her majesty was never truly wicked. Foolish, yes – and selfish enough to try to force herself on me. But her horror at seeing me poisoned was genuine. It was powerful enough to kill me.’

Dijun nodded, his expression sober yet still unsurprised. ‘And the best strategy for survival was to isolate the poison in your arm and then sever it.’

Shen Ye hummed in grim acknowledgment, meeting Dijun’s gaze as the two of them shared a moment of communion that left no doubt in Fengjiu’s mind that Shen Ye was Dijun’s shadow. Shen Ye had simply done what Dijun might have under similar circumstances.

‘The poison knitted itself into my flesh, bone, and veins. I could not withdraw it magically without killing myself. But I could deceive it. I purged it from the rest of my body into my arm. When I was certain that none had escaped, I struck,’ Shen Ye confirmed. His expression grew contrite in the next instant, though – almost pained – as he looked to Fengjiu and lamented, ‘Dihou, please forgive me for being so inconsiderate. I was too blunt.’

It was then that Fengjiu realized she was crying. Damp trails covered both of her cheeks.

‘I will take her for a walk,’ Dijun said, rising from his cushion and holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

Fengjiu shook her head and wiped her face, attempting to assure them both, ‘There’s no need, I’m fine.’

But Shen Ye quickly excused himself to check on the sitting room that his maid, Cha Cha, was preparing for them. And Dijun’s hand remained extended to her, so Fengjiu took it. Dijun continued holding her hand as they began to walk through Shen Ye’s small garden and then beyond his villa to a path that led toward the lake.

They walked quietly together, saying nothing, until the silence provoked Fengjiu to peek repeatedly at Dijun’s face. Unexpectedly, he was smiling.

How could he smile after all that?

‘Dijun, why are you smiling?’ she asked.

They had arrived near the shore of a still, blue lake, the water disturbed only by a nearby pair of ducks. Dijun turned to her and grasped her free hand in his, so that he faced her and held both her hands in his.

‘I am smiling because you did not get angry with me for not correcting Shen Ye’s mistake, as I should have done,’ he answered, his gaze warm and unwavering. ‘Shen Ye’s choice is the one I would have made, and I will have to endure it all when he returns to me. It will be bearable because I have been strengthened by something he has not experienced.’

Fengjiu’s brow furrowed, but before she could prompt Dijun to explain, he declared,

‘Xiao Bai, I like you.’

Chapter Text

Suspecting that Dijun had feelings for her was one thing.

Hearing him say the words was quite another.

 It had been so unexpected after the sad tale they had just heard from Shen Ye – who was unquestionably Dijun’s shadow. Fengjiu had just thought that Dijun had wanted to give her time to compose herself and – maybe – discuss Miao Luo a little. But this…

‘You…’ she managed to form one word, but couldn’t tame the swirl of thoughts and emotions in her mind enough to spit out anything beyond that.

Dijun’s eyes held hers steadily as he repeated, ‘I like you, Xiao Bai.’

She knew it was her turn now. Fengjiu knew that Dijun was waiting for her response. But at the moment, simply breathing was the best she could do.

Fengjiu gaped at Dijun without speaking so long that the light began to dim in his eyes, his smile faltered, and a noticeable chill descended over their surroundings. No! Stupid mouth, say something, he’s misunderstanding!

‘I like you, too, Dijun, I have for a long time but you threw all the others out so I didn’t let myself hope but then my heart chose you,’ Fengjiu confessed in a rush. The words jumbled together without necessarily making sense.

It sounded ludicrous. Fengjiu worried that Dijun would think she was mocking him. His arched eyebrows certainly suggested as much. So, she took a deep breath and started over again.

‘I like you, Dijun,’ she forced herself to speak slowly and carefully. She was relieved to see his smile return. ‘And, my heart chose you. It happens once in a nine-tailed fox’s lifetime.’

Like a dying ember rekindled by a breeze, the warmth returned to Dijun’s eyes and his smile redoubled its radiance. He embraced her tightly and rested his cheek on her head. Fengjiu’s heart glowed as she tentatively wrapped her arms around Dijun in return.

‘You have made me very happy by  saying so, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun murmured against her head. ‘I will do all that is in my power to make you happy as well.’

They held each other like that for a long while. Then, Dijun slipped his hand in hers and they walked along the lakeshore while he asked her about the things that made her happy.

‘So that I can be sure to do all of them,’ he explained.

Fengjiu laughed at this, feeling more and more relaxed with Dijun. She felt giddy at the thought that he was planning his strategy to woo her just as methodically as he had planned his battles. And as she thought of what she liked, the people she cared about most in her life came to mind.

‘I like meals with my family. I like gifts that my mother and uncles make for me with their own hands, like my Fourth Uncle’s hairpins or my mother’s embroidered handkerchiefs. I like anything to do with the martial arts. I like playing games and chasing rabbits…’ Fengjiu listed off many of her favorite things before turning the tables on Dijun and asking him, ‘What about you? What makes you happy?’

She knew a great deal about Dijun, but only what had been written down in the history books, or the snippets of gossip that Zhe Yan had shared with her. In all of that information, there was little about Dijun’s own happiness.

He answered her with two words. ‘You do.’

Fengjiu smirked, narrowed her eyes, and lightly punched Dijun on the arm just as she and Qingti had done when the other was being unreasonable. ‘That’s cheating – that doesn’t give me any ideas of how to make you happy.’

Dijun’s eyes twinkled and he grinned back at her, yet there was a dreamy quality to his gaze. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and let his fingertips linger on her cheek. ‘You make me happy in a way that I had never known before meeting you, Xiao Bai. Defeating enemies was satisfying. Studying the mysteries of existence expands my mind and spirit. Playing chess with Lian Song relieves boredom. But simply being with you, Xiao Bai, makes me happy. Thinking of what I can do to make you smile makes me happy. Thinking of a future with you makes me happy.’

Fengjiu’s breathing grew shaky as she beamed up at Dijun and wiped a trace of wetness away from her eyes with her free hand. ‘If you keep saying things like that, I’ll be happier than I can bear.’

‘I will help you bear it,’ Dijun murmured, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. ‘We will help each other bear everything.’

***

From the porch that overlooked the lake, Shen Ye watched Dong Hua Dijun with his Empress where they walked together along the shore. The sight of them treating each other so tenderly was one of many revelations he had experienced this day.

The appearance of Dong Hua Dijun in his ward had been surprising, but not greatly so. Shen Ye had known already that Dijun periodically visited the Fanyin Valley. Most Biyiniao believed it was to deliver tea lessons to students at the Imperial College. Having fought the demon that Dijun called Miao Luo, Shen Ye knew better. The tea lessons must be a diversion, to prevent the valley’s inhabitants from growing too curious about his real mission, which Shen Ye had to believe involved Miao Luo in some way.

No, that Dong Hua Dijun had wished to investigate Shen Ye’s ward and had been capable of entering it was not the surprise.

It had been the fact that Dijun was the mirror image of Shen Ye, himself.

And Shen Ye had not survived this long by turning a blind eye to details.

Somehow, the few times that Dijun had come to the valley during Shen Ye’s lifetime, Shen Ye had never met him. A natural consequence of his own reclusive tendencies. Seeing Dijun now left no room for doubt that there was some sort of connection between them.

The most likely explanation shook Shen Ye to the core.

He had always felt destined to protect the Fanyin Valley. How else to explain the exceptional power he had been born with? The great power that had always set him apart from other Biyiniao…

What if that were true?

What if Shen Ye had been fated to guard this place?

Shen Ye was well-versed in magic and knew the many things that were possible. Lord Xize had taught him extensively, imparting so much wisdom in their time together as Master and apprentice. Then, Shen Ye had studied tome after tome in his search for a means to preserve the lives of all the Biyiniao after he had brought on an enduring winter to render the pimpon tree dormant. He had even taken the time to learn about the distinctive abilities of the different immortal tribes and understood that the Sky Gods were the most powerful of all. They were capable of creating other, living beings, such as puppets or golems.

Or using a portion of their own spirit, their shadow, to bring to life another immortal.

‘Is that what I am?’ Shen Ye murmured to himself as he continued to watch Dijun with Dihou.

Just a shadow who will return home to Dijun once I have served my purpose?

A crushing weight began to ease from Shen Ye’s shoulders as his body relaxed for the first time that he could remember in a long time. His eyes misted over and a wondrous smile tugged at his lips.

If that was what awaited him, it would be a release and a reward.

His life in the Fanyin Valley had been devoted to duty: hard, demanding, filled with sacrifice, and lonely.

Shen Ye’s heart fluttered as he continued watching Dijun with the beautiful, kind goddess who had clearly earned the favor of the former Great King of Heaven, who in one million years had never been known to have an Empress. This goddess who Dijun kept by his side, even here where there was potential danger. A companion in all things, it seemed. Her genuine concern for Shen Ye, the fact that she had shed tears for his suffering, had moved him.

If there had been someone like her for Shen Ye in the Fanyin Valley, how much brighter his life might have been, how much more bearable...

Shen Ye smiled as a tear slid down his cheek.

Yes, there were far worse fates than to discover that he was but a shadow of the mightiest immortal in all the realms, and that one day, when he returned to Dijun’s spirit, he would be with that kind-hearted goddess.

Silently, Shen Ye vowed to serve Dijun in whatever action he took against Miao Luo, even if it meant surrendering his own life.

Chapter Text

Dijun stood aside and watched Xiao Bai directing several farmers on the quantities and kinds of vegetables to pack in the baskets that were being sent back with them. Shen Ye had offered and, after protesting that the food was needed more by the Biyiniao of the valley, Xiao Bai finally understood the importance of accepting generosity graciously. He smiled at her enthusiasm and ease at speaking with anyone.

Of course, this was all a distraction.

While Xiao Bai was focused on the farmers, Shen Ye approached, taking advantage of the opportunity much as Dijun might have.

‘You wished to speak with me without raising suspicion?’ Dijun asked after having cast a muddling spell that would garble the sound of their words so that others who heard them speaking would not be able to discern what they were talking about.

‘Dijun understood my gesture,’ Shen Ye bowed in acknowledgment.

‘Our minds think alike,’ Dijun remarked, his eyebrows twitching with the irony of holding such a conversation with his own shadow. ‘You would have known that my courtyard had been fully provisioned just two days ago.’

‘Indeed…our minds are as one,’ Shen Ye agreed, turning to face Dijun directly, with such fervor in his eyes that a realization struck Dijun.

He knows. Shen Ye knows what he is.

But, to preserve the illusion for Xiao Bai, Dijun did not turn to look at Shen Ye. ‘What did you wish to speak about?’ Dijun asked casually.

‘I have observed many things since Dijun’s arrival. I ask Dijun’s forgiveness for asking about private matters, but…’

Perhaps he wants me to confirm what he suspects?

‘…but, about Dihou’s birthmark…’

Dijun’s eyebrows arched. Oh. This was not what I expected.

‘…my perception may be defective, but I thought I sensed a unique energy radiating from it. One that may put Dihou at risk.’

Dijun’s lips twitched. Even my shadow, who has never known her until today, wants to keep her safe.

‘I am aware that the energy sealed within Xiao Bai’s birthmark is Miao Luo’s,’ Dijun confirmed Shen Ye’s unspoken fear. ‘I became aware of it when she dueled one of Miao Luo’s projections. Unfortunately, Miao Luo also noticed this.’

‘What?!’ Shen Ye gasped, nearly betraying the seriousness of their conversation. Thankfully, Xiao Bai’s back was turned and Shen Ye quickly controlled himself. ‘Dijun, I will not say all the things that are obvious. You do not need me to. But you must take Dihou away from the valley within the next month. Each time that I have defeated a copy of Miao Luo, it has taken her one month to return. Miao Luo’s strength grows, but so does her injury.’

This was a provocative statement, but one that Dijun was unable to pursue right away because Xiao Bai approached to ask what he and Shen Ye were speaking about.

‘The Fanyin Valley and what Shen Ye has observed of Miao Luo,’ Dijun answered, extending his hand to her. ‘He says there is usually one month between the appearances of each of her projections. It is valuable knowledge.’

Shen Ye escorted them to the glade that served as the bridge between his ward and the real Fanyin Valley, and even crossed over with them to speak directly to the spiritual serpents who protected the pimpon tree. Although Dijun was unfamiliar with their speech, from the pythons’ posture and attentiveness to Xiao Bai, he could tell that Shen Ye was instructing them specifically about her. This was confirmed when Shen Ye turned, bowed to Dijun and Xiao Bai, and explained, ‘Dijun, Dihou – I have asked the guardians to keep their senses alert to any threats to you. I hope that this will help the rest of your stay in the Fanyin Valley to be peaceful.’

Xiao Bai thanked him on their behalf, but Dijun was fairly certain that Shen Ye had been concerned mainly with instructing the serpents to protect her.

In this, Dijun agreed that he and his shadow were of the same mind.

It would have been easier to phase Xiao Bai back to the courtyard with him, but Dijun wanted to walk with her. Never before in his life had he had a companion. Loyal followers, yes. But never anyone like her. So, the little things must not be overlooked. Taking her hand and returning her lovely smile, Dijun walked slowly with her through the snowy woods, savoring every minute they spent in the chilled night air.

When they arrived in their courtyard, they lingered in the snow between their separate rooms. Dijun would willingly have remained there for hours, admiring Xiao Bai’s expressive face while she scrutinized his features in return.

‘What aren’t you telling me, Dijun?’

Xiao Bai’s question came as an unexpected surprise. Dijun blinked. Then, he appraised her even more appreciatively. His cherished fox princess was even more clever than he had already realized. The recognition that he had underestimated Xiao Bai’s keen intelligence made him love her all the more.

‘Why do you ask this?’ he bluffed, curious to know how she had detected the one deception that he had buried within the truth.

‘Your left thumb twitches when you’re holding something back,’ Xiao Bai replied, an utterly seductive, crooked smile curving her lips on one side. Her next words, though, dampened his ardor. ‘My uncle taught me that. And you’re confirming it right now by being tricky. So, what is it that worries you but that you think I don’t need to know?’

Zhe Yan. That preening peacock…

Although Dijun instantly began cataloguing all of the disadvantages he faced in having fallen in love with the one goddess in all the realms to have been raised by one of his few peers – and the nosiest busybody of them all – the fact remained that he had fallen in love. He had no experience with this feeling or with the relationship to another that it promised. But he had observed others. Lian Song played games with the goddess he was pursuing, Cheng Yu, which led to sustained fighting. During Ye Hua’s calamitous courtship with Bai Qian, the Crown Prince had attempted to conceal things from everyone, including Bai Qian’s mortal incarnation, which had nearly cost his life and her favor. Neither of those were examples that Dijun wanted to follow.

And he also knew he couldn’t take Xiao Bai’s heart for granted. She had confessed an intimate detail so openly to him. Her heart had chosen him. He had observed this powerful phenomenon in nine-tailed foxes for generations – going back even before the current Fox King’s time. There had indeed been a few whose careless actions had lost a fox’s heart after it had been bestowed on them.

Drawing in a deep breath, as he did before any challenge, Dijun answered, ‘Shen Ye is concerned for your safety. He noted what I did when you dueled Miao Luo – and what she noticed.’

Xiao Bai was so very precious to him now.

Dijun couldn’t resist the urge to stroke her cheek.

‘What? What did you notice?’ Xiao Bai pressed, her eyes locked on his.

‘It was just a flicker when Miao Luo struck you, when she made physical contact with you. But there was an echo of her own energy in your birthmark,’ Dijun explained. His fingertips brushed the red, phoenix-feather mark on her forehead. ‘Long ago, in the battle before I imprisoned Miao Luo, Canghe drew her blood. I knew of one drop only, which became the blood tear that has been protected by the Red Demons for generations. What I had not known, but now suspect, is that a second drop has been sealed inside your birthmark all this time.’

Xiao Bai folded her arms across her chest and skewered him with a stern glare. ‘And you didn’t think I needed to know this?’

Dijun was able to answer her truthfully. ‘You do deserve to know this. I had hoped to have dealt with any danger to you first, though. I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘What worry?’ Xiao Bai huffed, still bristling at him but, thankfully, a bit less angry. ‘If I know what the danger is, then both of us can deal with it. Dijun, didn’t you think of that?’

‘No,’ he answered simply.

What else was there to say? No, he hadn’t thought of including Xiao Bai in his ongoing battle with Miao Luo. He understood Xiao Bai’s perspective to a certain degree: this concerned her, personally. But Dijun had been fighting the numerous forces that threatened the peace of the realms for longer than he could remember. It was pure instinct by now. So, he hadn’t thought of including Xiao Bai – his actions and thoughts were so seamlessly connected now, he had simply acted.

‘That’s it? Just….no?’ Xiao Bai sulked, the muted disappointment in her eyes shrinking him down to barely the height of his boots.

‘This is new to me, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun confessed. ‘I have never liked someone before, nor had an equal with whom I would share my plans. I ask for your patience as I learn how to be the man you deserve.’

He only wanted to keep her safe from a demon that even he hadn’t managed to defeat yet. But Dijun understood now that Xiao Bai wanted a say in anything that affected her.

To his surprise, her anger seemed to dissipate and she pressed her hands against her cheeks to cover a rising blush. ‘It’s real. You do like me. You’re not tossing me out…you’re…you’re trying to deserve me…’

Xiao Bai’s giddiness had an instant effect on his own mood, which had grown somber in the face of her ire. His lips regained their ability to smile and a pleasant fluttering tickled his chest.

‘Who are these ones I have tossed out? You mentioned them bef—’ Dijun began, only to be silenced by Xiao Bai’s hand pressed abruptly against his mouth. It was a clumsy, impertinent gesture that none would have dared in the past. Only Xiao Bai could be so bold with him without fear of reprisal.

‘Never mind,’ she insisted hastily, her blush deepening and a glimmer of guilt in her eyes that Dijun would have to investigate another time. ‘It’s late. You should…you should go to sleep.’

She practically pushed him towards his room.

He decided to test her level of uneasiness with this thing she kept mentioning yet did not want to discuss with him.

‘Not even one hug?’ he suggested.

‘Promise me you’ll tell me about things that concern me,’ she demanded, stubborn yet no longer angry.

‘I promise,’ he agreed, whereupon he was rewarded by being enveloped by her arms. Dijun reciprocated and encircled her in his own, protective embrace. He sighed and rested his head atop hers. If this had been their first fight, Dijun hoped that any others would be resolved this easily.

***

‘Will you not eat, Lord Shen Ye?’

The soup did smell appetizing and Shen Ye had been poring over scrolls in his study for the better part of the day.

‘Just set it there,’ he nodded absently toward the corner of the table. The maid, Cha Cha, nodded and left the steaming, savory bowl of fish broth for him to consume in his own time.

Feverishly, he scanned another few scrolls. A thought that the pythons had sent into his mind had seized hold of him and refused to let go.

Broken, like you.

His loyal allies had confirmed his suspicion that he was a shadow. As spiritual beasts, their senses were attuned to things that most immortals missed. They recognized him as a fragment…just as Miao Luo’s projection was a fragment…

And that had prompted his obsessive search through the many treatises in his library.

Miao Luo’s fragment would return to her as he would return to Dijun.

How could he make use of that to weaken her?

How could he sabotage her from within by embedding something in the fragment?

Shen Ye reached for the bowl of soup at last, only to find it cold. He blinked and looked up from his desk for the first time in….hours. The sky outside his window had darkened.

He gulped down the cold, fish broth anyway. Shen Ye had never bothered to take pleasure in food or drink. And that small bit of nourishment was welcome.

He had an idea of how to wound Miao Luo so that Dijun and Dihou would be free to live their life, and the realms could continue in peace.

Chapter Text

Fengjiu wrapped the quilt around her as she looked out her window to a dawn courtyard glittering like diamonds The sun’s rays reflected off the pristine white snow crystals on the ground, the frost on the trees, and the icicles on the eaves. The world inside Shen Ye’s ward had preserved the beauty of summer, yet even this wintry Fanyin Valley was dazzling.

Still, Fengjiu wondered…what do we do now?

She had chased after Dijun to help him find and reintegrate his shadow, but she had never considered what meeting the shadow—as a real person—would be like. Poor Shen Ye had lived such a harsh life, Fengjiu couldn’t bear the idea of telling him what he was. It would be too cruel to deliver the news that he had no hope of reincarnation.

And Fengjiu certainly hadn’t expected Dijun to confess to her. Never in her wildest dreams. Not after everything that Zhe Yan had told…her…

For a moment, Fengjiu stopped breathing as her eyes flashed with overdue revelation. In her mind, she saw and heard Zhe Yan’s laughter right before he suggested that she go to the mortal realm to observe Dijun’s trial.

As a healer, you should observe Dijun’s mortal trial…

Her uncle had seen the two of them together in the future and had deliberately set her on the path leading to her present.

Of course, he couldn’t tell her. Fengjiu understood that this was how Zhe Yan’s powers of foresight worked.

But…did this mean that Shen Ye’s return to Dijun would go well? And that they would find a way to deal with Miao Luo? Would Zhe Yan really have laughed so hard if things were going to turn out badly?

These questions were all too profound for her to answer on her own. At the sight of Dijun gliding across the courtyard with a basket in his hand, Fengjiu’s heart and spirit lightened. She smiled. He always seemed to glide effortlessly and his footsteps barely left a trace in the snow. Fengjiu was eager to join him now that they were both awake, although she was also a little nervous. How should she behave with him?

Fengjiu had never had a sweetheart before. Plenty of friends, yes. But never someone who she liked and who liked her in return. She decided that the safest thing to do would be to discuss Shen Ye and what Dijun’s plan was, now that they had seen how important Dijun’s shadow was to keeping Miao Luo from manifesting her projections in the Fanyin Valley. So, as soon as Fengjiu had slipped on some clean robes, she went over to Dijun’s room.

He was relaxing with a pot of tea. When Fengjiu stepped across the threshold, his eyes glimmered warmly and he reached out his hand in invitation. She reached his side in just a few steps, grasped his hand, and sat down beside him.

‘Did you sleep well, Xiao Bai?’ Dijun asked, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Fengjiu nodded, mesmerized by his eyes, and asked in turn, ‘You?’

‘Not at all,’ he answered, his smile broadening.

‘What?!’ She frowned at him with concern. ‘Why not? Is something wrong? Miao Luo?’

Dijun shook his head and continued grinning at her. ‘I closed my eyes and saw your face. I was enjoying that vision so much I couldn’t sleep.’

Fengjiu blushed and nudged him with her elbow. ‘You worried me. I thought Miao Luo had attacked and I’d slept right through it!’

Dijun’s eyebrows rose. ‘If an attack by Miao Luo’s projection had been so harmless that you could sleep through it, would that not be a good thing?’

‘Not if it meant I wasn’t there to help you,’ Fengjiu huffed.

Dijun beamed at her and stroked his knuckle along the bridge of her nose.

‘Shen Ye said that it took Miao Luo a month to recover enough strength to send another projection into the Fanyin Valley. Things should be peaceful here for a while. The real battle must be fought with Miao Luo herself, not with her projection. We should leave the Fanyin Valley soon,’ he pointed out.

‘And just leave him here?’ Fengjiu’s voice resonated with dismay.

‘It is Shen Ye’s own wish, expressed to me before we left his ward,’ Dijun explained as he clasped her hand in his. ‘And he has been defending the Fanyin Valley long before we knew of his existence.’

Fengjiu didn’t like the idea of leaving Shen Ye to his bleak, difficult life here, but any argument was interrupted by the rumbling of her stomach. Dijun chuckled, squeezed her hand, and suggested that she take the fish he’d caught and prepare some breakfast.

While they shared their first meal of the day together – like a couple, Fengjiu appreciated – they agreed to go for a walk through the marketplace later that morning. Although Fengjiu still resisted leaving Shen Ye behind, Dijun was able to persuade her to look for some potential mementos they might take back with them, as well as gifts to bring to her family.

‘The first of many….’ Dijun hinted. Fengjiu blushed at what it implied.

But their relaxed stroll through the marketplace in the Biyiniao royal city did not go as planned.

She and Dijun were at a hairpin-seller’s stall admiring the quality of the different wooden and jade hairpins. They were no rivals to her Fourth Uncle’s beautiful hairpins, but their simplicity appealed to Fengjiu. Dijun encouraged her to choose one that he could buy for her as a gift, while the flustered artisan stood by, fidgeting with giddiness at the prospect of the legendary Dong Hua Dijun buying one of her hairpins.

Fengjiu was so focused on choosing one of the hairpins that she didn’t notice a somewhat portly, bearded scholar swaying on his feet across the street from them. Or the brief flicker of red in his eyes. Without warning, the blue-robed man stalked toward her and drove a knife into her side. The sharp pain of the blade slicing deep into her flesh tore a cry of alarm from Fengjiu’s lips as she collapsed against Dijun.

Chaos erupted as Dijun caught her with one arm and swept his other out to trap Fengjiu’s attacker in a mystical cage, one that crackled with fiery power and left the man twitching and whimpering in pain.

Yet, this was not even the greatest disruption of the morning’s peace.

To the astonishment of all, there suddenly appeared a massive python right in the heart of the market. The dark-scaled serpent surged toward Fengjiu and rose up on its coils behind her, baring its fangs at everyone else and hissing so angrily that merchants and shoppers alike fled from the area. Guards from the royal palace came running to investigate the public disturbance, but froze in their tracks at the sight of a monstrous snake swaying protectively over Fengjiu and Dijun, menacing any who might dare approach.

‘Miao…Luo…?’ Fengjiu gasped as she covered her wound with her hand, blood rapidly staining her robes.

‘Don’t talk,’ Dijun urged, his words tense and clipped. With a single gesture, he made the dazed scholar vanish. Then, with another, Dijun phased both of them back to their courtyard and erected an impenetrable ward over it.

Fengjiu barely had time to blink and she was in her own bed, with Dijun at her side, showering her wound with cultivation that began to heal her injury and stop the bleeding.

‘I thought it would take a month…’ Fengjiu murmured weakly as she rested against her pillows.

‘Don’t talk,’ Dijun repeated, although his tone was gentler now. Gentle with her, at least, yet still tense.

After a good quarter of an hour, the pain in Fengjiu’s side had faded and she could feel her wound mostly healed. Dijun stopped the flow of cultivation and caressed her cheek, relief glimmering in his eyes and palpable in his touch.

‘That was not one of Miao Luo’s projections,’ Dijun explained. ‘It appears that she is still strong enough to possess the weak-minded….Xiao Bai….’

Dijun paused and took her hand in his. Fengjiu had never seen him look so worried.

‘…Xiao Bai, I would like to take you home.’

Chapter Text

‘Take me home? Will you be coming back here after leaving me in the Ten Miles’ Peach Orchard?’ Xiao Bai asked him, wincing as she attempted to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Would she not rest even for a moment?

‘Hmm,’ Dijun acknowledged. He pressed his hands lightly against her shoulders, urging her to relax against the cushions and let his cultivation continue healing her. ‘Don’t be so quick to rise. You have just been wounded. Rest, and I will prepare you a broth.’

His cherished fox pouted at him stubbornly, ‘I suffered worse wounds on the battlefield in the mortal realm, and you’ve already healed me, haven’t you?’

Although a tempest raged within him, Dijun smiled indulgently and teased, ‘Are you the warrior-monk, Xiao Jiu, again? Are we to be only rough, brothers in arms? Xiao Bai, let me tend to you this one time, hmm?’

The smile she graced him with should have calmed the tempest. Xiao Bai was radiant. He kissed her hand before he left. But the sea of emotions surged and swirled within him still.

At the firestove in their kitchen, while he prepared a restorative broth for Xiao Bai, Dijun forced himself to carry out each step slowly and calmly as a meditation to restore inner peace.

As Dijun mixed the ingredients in the pot, he focused on reining in the urge to kill Xiao Bai’s attacker. At this very moment, the old Biyiniao scholar remained trapped in Dijun’s cage and hovered on the verge of death. Dijun sustained his life through the energy of the cage itself, but just barely, and only for one reason.

He would leave the wretch’s fate for Xiao Bai to decide.

Dijun was not so merciful as to let an attempted murderer wait in comfort, even if he was possessed by Miao Luo. Miao Luo could only possess those whose hearts were already poisoned by greed, resentment, or some other sin – especially now, when she had been weakened by the destruction of her latest projection. That man was just a pawn, but he had hurt Xiao Bai. For that alone, Dijun would have killed him. It was how Dijun had meted out justice in the past: swiftly and mercilessly. But it had occurred to him that Xiao Bai had the right to pass judgment.

It still took every last drop of Dijun’s restraint not to wring the life out of the one whose hand had driven a blade into Xiao Bai. So, he mixed the water, scraps of meat and vegetables, and a few different salts and seasonings with disciplined patience. He simultaneously imagined boiling Xiao Bai’s attacker in the pot while boiling away his own anger, which was the enemy of peace and clear-mindedness.

As he meditated this way at the stove, Dijun recognized that he had not felt the temptation to unleash fury so greatly since ancient times, when he had not yet chosen the path of the gods. In those early days, when war and cruelty had defined existence, Dijun might easily have gone the way of the demons – and become a terror far worse than Miao Luo.

By the time Dijun was straining the broth through a thin cloth to remove the solid matter, he eased his torment of Miao Luo’s pawn. Dijun deliberately thought through every step he had taken in his life to create and uphold the laws of Heaven. And then he recommitted to his ancient choice. Let Xiao Bai speak to the man’s fate.

Having calmed the first storm in his heart and mind, Dijun turned to the second as he began walking through the snowy courtyard to Xiao Bai’s room.

He had told her he wanted to take her home. She had assumed he meant the Ten Miles Peach Orchard where she lived with her uncles. Zhe Yan was powerful, it was true, but Dijun would only feel safe if she were in Tai Chen Palace.

How could he persuade Xiao Bai to let him take her there, when it implied a much deeper choice. When they had only just confessed to each other and had not yet discussed marriage?

Dijun’s pace slowed.

Although he did not want to let the broth get too cold, he used his steps for another meditation. What did he know of Xiao Bai at this moment?

She was sincere. More sincere than many people he had known in his long life.

She was not easily intimidated. That, he had seen from their first meeting. Most other fairies her age fell speechless or muttered meek, formulaic words when they encountered him. Xiao Bai spoke her mind without fear of consequences, even after he’d caught her trespassing on private demon land.

She was clever. And Zhe Yan cannot take the credit for all her cleverness – much of it was in her own style, not his.

She was loyal to those who had earned her devotion. Again, moreso than many people he knew.

Dijun’s foot paused on the snowy ground and he smiled mid-meditation.

No wonder he loved her.

His eyes flickered and his smile froze as he recalled what Xiao Bai had asked him earlier.

Will you be coming back here….?

Dijun realized she wouldn’t like being left behind. As Xiao Jiu, she hadn’t let Qingti face danger on his own, and they had just been brothers-in-arms. But…

Dijun’s eyes glazed over for a moment and he sighed.

…but she had put Dijun in her heart. Xiao Bai likes me.

She definitely would argue about being left out of the fight, no matter how many different ways he explained to her how dangerous Miao Luo was.

The logical solution would be not to leave her out of the fight and still get her to Tai Chen Palace. Dijun would need to find a way for Xiao Bai to aid him in defeating Miao Luo while remaining out of Miao Luo’s reach, for Miao Luo would surely renew her attacks on Xiao Bai now that she was aware of the drop of red qi in Xiao Bai’s birthmark.

He took a step. Then another.

His thoughts began to clear in the crisp, fresh air.

Indeed, there was a way.

Now that Dijun considered it, there was a way that Xiao Bai, herself, had already laid out before this. For the drop of red qi in Xiao Bai’s birthmark was not the only thing that Miao Luo coveted…

When he reentered her rooms, the broth was comfortingly warm. The time Dijun had spent composing himself had been enough for Xiao Bai’s medicine to cool to just the right temperature. More importantly, his own passions had cooled, so that he, too, was in the right state of being to soothe her.

‘That smells good,’ Xiao Bai complimented as he sat down beside her, this time being bold enough to sit on her bed rather than the stool.

‘If you had prepared it, it would be even better. But you are injured, so you must bear with my attempt,’ Dijun countered. Her lovely eyes twinkled playfully and her lips drew into a lopsided grin.

‘Dijun, are you holding a grudge against me for criticizing your sweet and sour fish?’ she teased him. His heart might have risen into the sky, he was so pleased at her playful mood. It was the best sign that her injury no longer posed any danger to her.

‘I am enlightened,’ he countered loftily, bringing the first spoonful of broth to her lips. ‘Enlightenment is rooted in self-awareness. You merely made me aware of my deficit. How could I hold a grudge against you for contributing to my enlightenment?’

Right as Xiao Bai was swallowing the broth she giggled at his remark, causing a bit of the soup to trickled down her chin. Dijun conjured a silk handkerchief to wipe it away.

‘You really are the most eloquent in all the realms,’ Xiao Bai grinned. ‘You can make pure hogwash sound like a Buddhist teaching.’

Dijun fed her another mouthful of soup and patted her lips with the silk handkerchief. ‘If it pleases you to say so, Xiao Bai.’

When she had finished the entire bowl of broth, Xiao Bai made the protest that he had anticipated.

‘If you are returning to the Fanyin Valley to deal with Miao Luo, then I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. Why should you fight her alone?’

‘I worried that you would say this, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun began, focusing on the right words to say to her. He set aside the bowl and took her hand in his. ‘You are brave. Of course, I would want to have you by my side, if it were not for the fact that Miao Luo wants something from you and will kill you to get it. That is why I considered how you might help from a distance, away from the Fanyin Valley. Shen Ye said something to me earlier. He told me that as Miao Luo’s strength increases, so does her injury. There is something that Miao Luo wants aside from the fragment of her power that is concealed in your birthmark. I would entrust you with the task of learning whether it could be used to magnify Miao Luo’s injury. As a healer, I know this would go against what Zhe Yan has taught you, but I would ask you to think of it instead as healing the realms.’

Xiao Bai’s brow creased and her lips tugged downward in a pensive frown. ‘What is this thing and why couldn’t I study it here in the Fanyin Valley? Dijun, if you battle Miao Luo, at least I would be here to heal you.’

Dijun smiled briefly at the image this conjured, of their present roles reversed, with Xiao Bai restoring him to health with a broth so savory and nourishing that he might forget Miao Luo altogether. He had once ruled over all the realms from the highest throne in Heaven, yet he could easily be tempted to seclude in this enchanted valley with Xiao Bai and leave the world to its fate. Dijun sighed and brushed his knuckles against her temple.

‘Because, Xiao Bai, I have placed the Soul-Locking Jade under so many enchantments that it would be difficult even for me to remove it from Tai Chen Palace,’ he explained. ‘It was stolen once before through deception, and if you had not been so clever as to recognize its fragment in the mortal realm and alert Si Ming, Miao Luo might already be free now – free, and devastating the realms. As it is, Miao Luo is not free, she remains imprisoned, so I will not be battling her in the Fanyin Valley. Like you, I will be studying how to defeat her, and at most will work with Shen Ye to destroy any projections of her power. The valley will be closing soon, so I will not stay here long.’

His cherished fox brightened at this, much to Dijun’s relief. ‘Oh! Well, if you won’t be staying, and since you’ve maintained Miao Luo’s imprisonment from…wait….’

Dijun braced himself as Xiao Bai passed quickly through an instant of bewilderment before fixing him with wide-eyed realization.

‘You said you wanted to take me home. But what you really meant was Tai Chen Palace,’ she murmured, her cheeks growing rosy.

Dijun caressed her hand with his thumb and gave it a gentle squeeze. He lowered his eyes briefly out of shyness. Xiao Bai could make him feel this way. Then, he met her gaze again and nodded.

‘I meant Tai Chen Palace,’ he confirmed.

‘That isn’t my home,’ Xiao Bai stated the fact known to both of them, yet with a questioning breathlessness that quickened his heartbeat.

Dijun had lived so long that his relationship with time differed from that of most immortals. There were rituals and etiquette, he knew – he had been the one to establish them. But present and future were mere abstractions to his mind, especially when he had set his mind on a course of action.

Yet….how could he explain this to Xiao Bai without offending or overwhelming her?

Again, he glanced down at their joined hands. Speaking with Xiao Bai about this flustered him as nothing else had in his living memory. Once more, he raised his eyes to her as he reached out to take her other hand.

‘It is not….’ Dijun conceded, before transforming his meaning with a single word, ‘….yet.’

He felt Xiao Bai’s hands instinctively twitch in his as her eyes plumbed the depths of his soul. She swallowed and her lips parted as if to speak, but she said nothing. He could not lose her by being too overbearing. He could not make her doubt him, worry that his haste was merely evidence that this was a false promise simply to get her out of the Fanyin Valley.

‘Perhaps…you could treat this as an opportunity to decide whether it could be, Xiao Bai.’

Chapter Text

‘Dijun, we only just confessed to each other. It hasn’t even been three days!’ Fengjiu blurted out, stunned. Of course, it was true that her heart had chosen him. But her family? The high-ranking immortals of Heaven Kingdom? Their heads would all spin off into oblivion if she and Dijun rushed things.

Her own head might spin off into the Milky Way at any moment. Dijun had been audacious on his campaigns; would he also be so with courtship and marriage?

Was he really thinking like this already?

It made Fengjiu’s heart wild and unruly. Yes, instinctively, she wanted what Dijun was so freely offering her. And she certainly didn’t want to be ungrateful and curse herself to suffer the turbulent courtship that her Gu Gu and Ye Hua had endured. It was just…

‘Xiao Bai, when I had decided that the demons needed a Council to discipline them in resolving their disputes peaceably, I considered it already done. I did not wonder whether I could achieve it, only how long it would take. It has been so with each endeavor I have undertaken: between thought and action and outcome, there is no difference. I am trying not to be presumptuous with you, but it is difficult when in my mind, it has already happened.’

Fengjiu would have replied that this didn’t mean they couldn’t proceed more slowly for the sake of discovering each other, but a commotion arose out in the courtyard that tore both she and Dijun away from their intimate, overwhelming moment. She could feel the very wood planks of her rustic chambers rattling.

‘Stay and rest,’ Dijun urged as he stalked out to the courtyard, his expression troubled.

‘Make me,’ Fengjiu fired back, feeling so fully healed she could easily forget she’d been stabbled. She hurried after Dijun to see what was the matter.

Outside, Dijun’s ward crackled with energy, golden flares bursing like lightning against the invisible contours of an unyielding shield.

‘Dijun! Dihou!’ a familiar voice cried out.

‘Shen Ye?’ Fengjiu murmured in surprise. Why had he come?

Snow crunched beneath Fengjiu’s feet, dampening her socks as she hurried to match Dijun’s swift, long strides toward the gate to their courtyard. Fengjiu hadn’t even had time to pull her boots on and felt a bit silly as she stood in her stocking feet in the snow and gawked not just at a very distressed Shen Ye, but the two pythons who swayed behind him and periodically lunged at Dijun’s barrier.

‘Was it not rash of you to come here like this?’ Dijun asked as he drew up before the gate, making no move to allow their unexpected guests to enter the courtyard.

‘Where is the knife?’ Shen Ye countered, urgency flaring in his eyes. Sockless herself, Fengjiu noticed that Shen Ye’s cloak was askew and the sash to his robes was tied too tightly – mirroring her own haste.

Never one to reveal information carelessly, Dijun answered, ‘Safe behind a shield. Why does this matter?’

Shen Ye swept his cloak open on one side with his whole arm to reveal the other one, truncated at the elbow beneath a loose sleeve. ‘Because Miao Luo did this to me with my own blood. In the fight that gave me the scar across my face, she gathered drops of my blood and used it to create the poison that could not be removed from my own body because it was made with my own blood. Do no let her do the same to your Empress.’

Dijun stared back at his own, grim shadow for a fraction of a heartbeat before creating a gap in his barrier to allow Shen Ye to enter the courtyard. The pythons, however, remained outside and began to circle around it in opposite directions, very much like guards on patrol.

Fengjiu shivered at the terrifying thought of what Miao Luo had done to Shen Ye, but she also began to shift on her feet as the icy chill of the snow stung her toes through her dampened socks.

At even the slightest hint of distress in Fengjiu’s expression, both Dijun and Shen Ye instantly grew more attentive, although Shen Ye was more subtle about it. Her shifting from one foot to another drew their eyes downward.

Simultaneously, Dijun and Shen Ye demanded, ‘Where are your boots?’

Fengjiu wanted to knock both their heads together, but she settled for planting her hands on her hips and scolding them. ‘With the ruckus that you raised,’ she fumed at Shen Ye, before turning to Dijun, ‘and you rushing off and leaving me behind, when did I have the chance to think about my boots?’

The perplexed helplessness that wrinkled Dijun’s brow as he confronted her own, personal logic forced Fengjiu to stifle a giggle. A moment later, she squealed in shock as Dijun swept her up into his arms and carried her toward her room.

‘Wait on my porch,’ Dijun instructed Shen Ye.

The Biyiniao archmage, who had already averted his eyes, awkwardly bowed and removed himself to the sheltered, wooden deck outside the carved, double doors of Dijun’s expansive villa. Fengjiu had draped one arm behind Dijun’s neck but she poked him mercilessly in the chest.

‘You’re not leaving me out of this,’ she warned.

‘As you wish, Xiao Bai, but Shen Ye can wait while I dry your feet and help you put on your boots so you don’t catch cold,’ Dijun countered.

Not only did Dijun dry her feet and help her slip on her boots, but he also conjured a heavy, white cloak and wrapped her up in it so snugly that the chill no longer touched her.

‘If you can treat me as your partner as well as you pamper me, Dijun, we will be very happy together,’ Fengjiu remarked.

‘Understood,’ Dijun smiled as he slipped his hand in hers and walked with her across the courtyard to meet with Shen Ye. She caught a glimpse of one of the massive pythons sliding along its patrol around their courtyard.

In the end, Fengjiu was grateful for their brief, playful interlude, for Shen Ye’s mood remained grim when the three of them finally sat down together in Dijun’s receiving room.

‘Dijun, Dihou, I beg forgiveness for troubling your peace. But when the pythons alerted me to Miao Luo’s attack on Dihou through the possessed teacher – so soon after you had defeated one of her projections – I could not remain calm,’ Shen Ye began.

‘You told us of how Miao Luo used your own blood to poison you,’ Dijun recalled, his hand resting on Fengjiu’s. ‘It is in Miao Luo’s nature to corrupt.’

‘And my first thought was that I never wanted Dihou to suffer as I did,’ Shen Ye confessed fervently, although he looked at Dijun rather than at Fengjiu herself. ‘Nor did I want you to face the choice I did, Dijun. While I know you would do what was necessary, it would torture you for the rest of your days.’

A chill ran down Fengjiu’s spine and, instinctively, her hand squeezed Dijun’s. She could see it vividly – Canghe, Dijun’s legendary sword, severing her own arm. From the tightening of Dijun’s fingers, she knew that the grim vision had darkened his mind as well.

‘I spoke harshly earlier, Shen Ye. Thank you for coming here to warn us,’ Fengjiu said, her voice calm and steady. She meant to prove to Dijun that she could handle all of the challenges she would face by his side, and that meant showing him that her insight was keener than he might have given her credit for. ‘But…you didn’t just come here to warn us, did you?’

Zhe Yan had, after all, taught her to notice as much as she could, to use her heightened fox senses to give herself an advantage. And Fengjiu could sense that Shen Ye wasn’t nervous; if anything, his energy right now was much more predator than prey.

‘We can do something similar to her,’ Shen Ye confirmed with a nod. ‘I have been studying all that I can find on Miao Luo – most of it written by you, Dijun.’

‘What I wrote was to help others protect themselves,’ Dijun explained soberly. ‘Most of my understanding of her weaknesses, I have not shared. I would not have Miao Luo know what I know.’

Shen Ye nodded in acknowledgment of Dijun’s wisdom in not revealing the full extent of his knowledge of this ancient enemy. ‘Above all things, Miao Luo values herself, her power,’ Shen Ye continued. ‘Her projections return to her as naturally as I will return to Dijun, and, as Dijun has written, she has craved the restoration of the Blood Tear guarded by the demons. I believe I may be able to poison her by infecting her next projection, if Dijun is willing to advise me.’

Fengjiu gaped at the dark-haired archmage who so clearly resembled Dijun, astonished that not only had he discovered his true nature but that he spoke about it so casually.

Dijun, on the other hand, didn’t even blink as he answered smoothly, ‘There is something I have been considering. It will take one month to be certain of success. I have asked Xiao Bai to help me. Can you protect the Fanyin Valley from Miao Luo’s next attack in that time?’

Shen Ye bowed eagerly and said, ‘Dijun, I will protect the valley with my life.’

‘Then, Xiao Bai and I will leave to prepare the medicine, while you find the way to administer it to Miao Luo,’ Dijun concluded.

‘Medicine?’ Fengjiu asked. Hadn’t Shen Ye been planning to poison her?

‘Miao Luo is not who – or what – she may appear to be. She may seem like a powerful demon to be defeated, but she cannot be killed by a poison. She is the sickness of the world. What we must do, Xiao Bai, is heal, not kill,’ Dijun explained, the gentle gleam in his eyes leaving Fengjiu eager to pepper him with questions. ‘That is why I ask you to be my partner in this.’

Snakes battering at their gate.

Wet socks.

The threat of Miao Luo poisoning her.

Dijun already arranging their future.

The last hour had been almost too chaotic.

But Dijun’s words dispelled all that noise and allowed Fengjiu to regain her bearings.

Which was how, before evening had fallen, she found herself at Dijun’s side, alighting on the clouds at the main gate to Heaven Kingdom and walking side-by-side toward Tai Chen Palace.

In spite of herself, Fengjiu couldn’t stop wondering, what would it be like to call Tai Chen Palace home?

Chapter Text

It was a good sign that Xiao Bai seemed so relaxed in Tai Chen Palace. This meant that she already felt at home.

Didn’t it? Or was it merely a reaction to being out of the cold of the Fanyin Valley?

It had been so long since Dijun had experienced doubt. He had grown accustomed to the certainty of his analysis of all things and all situations. But with Xiao Bai…his heart was teaching him to take nothing for granted.

Dijun watched Xiao Bai as she surveyed the gardens as they walked to the vault where he kept the fragment of the Soul Locking Jade that had been recovered from the mortal realm of Cheng Yu. Surely, these gardens were not new to her; she had been in Tai Chen Palace before when she had given him medical treatment. Was she looking at them more closely? Did she admire them?

She’d spent her youth living with Zhe Yan…would she like it if Dijun planted a small peach orchard here?

‘So, how are we going to heal Miao Luo out of existence, as you told Shen Ye?’ Xiao Bai asked as he paused with her near two, artfully pruned dwarf pines.

‘We cannot,’ Dijun answered truthfully. Xiao Bai’s assumption puzzled him. When had he implied ‘out of existence’?

Xiao Bai folded her arms across her chest and frowned up at him. ‘Then what are we doing here? You said she was a disease we had to cure.’

Dijun tilted his head to the side and arched his eyebrows, bemused by how his words so often ended up being misunderstood by others. ‘I said that Miao Luo is the sickness of the world, and that we must heal, not kill,’ he explained. Then, he reached for her hand and said, ‘Hold my hand, or you will not be able to enter the vault.’

As he had anticipated, Xiao Bai glanced around them, her narrowed eyes searching for any sign of a vault. They were surrounded by delicate magnolias, colorful azaleas, ornamental grasses, and the two dwarf pines on either sides of the path. By design, no nearby building was visible.

Xiao Bai let him take her hand. He then brushed his finger lightly against her forehead, giving her immunity to the concealment spell he had cast on the vault. The light of recognition in her eyes was enchanting when she saw the steps leading down into the underground vault, right in the center of the path.

‘I increased the protections on my vault after Green Demon Lord Yan Chiwu stole the Soul Locking Jade, which was the origin of the Lingbi Stone you encountered in the mortal realm,’ Dijun continued. He loosely gripped Xiao Bai’s hand and began leading her down the steps. ‘Only I can pass through the shield guarding the entrance – or, by extension, anyone in direct contact with me.’

He smiled at the admiration in Xiao Bai’s expression as she studied the passage they descended. The nine-tailed fox clan had always appreciated cleverness. Dijun had noted this when Bai Zhi and his son Bai Yi had served under his command in past wars.

At his silent command , lamps came to life and lit the way for them through the underground chamber until they reached a secluded chamber sealed by a heavy, stone door. With a wave of Dijun’s hand, it slowly creaked open, admitting them to the shadowy cell where many fragments of the Soul Locking Jade were suspended in a swirling orb of his fairy power.

Xiao Bai smiled, her eyes gleaming in the soft light. She stared at one, carved fragment and noted, ‘This one is the Lingbi Stone.’

Dijun nodded, squeezing her hand in hers. ‘It is. The others are smaller, less-powerful shards that have been recovered from many different realms. Miao Luo has sought this because it is the implement I used to imprison her 30,000 years ago.’

‘If this is already broken, is it doing anything to restrain Miao Luo? What is actually imprisoning her now?’ Xiao Bai asked, glancing over at him.

‘The Soul Locking Jade was only one of many chains I placed on Miao Luo,’ Dijun answered. ‘I also sealed her power with my own cultivation. The fact that a tiny drop of her red qi was imprisoned as the sacred, Blood Tear of the Red Demons also weakened Miao Luo, for it has kept her apart from a fragment of her primordial spirit.’

At this, Xiao Bai pivoted, planted one hand on her hip, and frowned at him with concern. ‘If being separated from one’s own primordial spirit causes weakness, then aren’t you weakened by having lost enough primordial spirit to create a shadow as powerful as Shen Ye?’

Dijun couldn’t resist teasing Xiao Bai a little bit. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His abrupt, overbearing gesture summoned a squeal of protest as Xiao Bai’s arms were trapped against his chest.

‘Do I feel weak?’ he asked with more than a little cheek.

‘Physically? No,’ his beautiful fox huffed indignantly. ‘But spiritual weaknesses aren’t always easy to detect. And I remember what you looked like when Zhong Lin summoned me here after your collapse. If your own essence is one of the only things subduing Miao Luo, you’ll kill yourself eventually!’

Xiao Bai dared scold him, even more fiercely than Lian Song did. And Dijun adored the fire in her eyes when she did so.

‘I am not in danger from Miao Luo,’ Dijun assured her, relaxing his embrace but still holding her in his arms since he found it quite enjoyable. ‘Besides, my shadow is being nurtured by the ambient magic of the Fanyin Valley, and by the challenges that Shen Ye has endured. His life is what makes the difference between my lost primordial spirit and Miao Luo’s.’

A wince of pity tightened Xiao Bai’s expression for a moment. ‘Poor Shen Ye. After what he’s gone through, you should definitely gain some strength. But how are you planning to use this?’ she asked as she nodded toward the Soul Locking Jade.

Dijun lifted a hand to caress Xiao Bai’s face and smiled. ‘That is my question for you. Shen Ye had hoped to introduce a poison into Miao Luo, just as she had poisoned him with his own blood. His idea has potential, but Miao Luo cannot be killed the way he thinks, because she is not truly alive. But you are a healer, Xiao Bai. How would you deal with a sickness that cannot be fully cured?’

‘You’re putting this on me?’ Xiao Bai almost yelped. Her eyes scrutinized him. ‘I thought I was just going to help you with your plan.’

He nodded and began to lead her out of the cell into the main crypt. ‘You are. But physicians help by giving advice. Did you not advise me to take acanthus serum, which was quite effective on the Qiushui Cold Toxin? Did you not further overrule Zhong Lin when he hesitated to summon Zhe Yan? Your medical advice has already benefitted me twice.’

She hesitated, studying him again with an intensity that Dijun had come to associate with the members of the Bai clan. Xiao Bai’s grandfather, Bai Zhi had sized Dijun up much in the same way when he had been but a youth, deciding whether to entrust himself as a soldier to Dijun’s command. Xiao Bai’s father, Bai Yi, had in turn arrived to fight under Dijun’s leadership in a different war, but had studied Dijun pointedly when deciding whether to volunteer for a dangerous mission that might have gotten him killed. The Bai clan was friendly and open with all peoples, even the Ghosts and Demons, but they were also cunning and thoughtful in their judgment of others. Even though Xiao Bai’s heart had already chosen him, Dijun could see that she still gave her head plenty of consideration when making important decisions.

‘I’ll need to know a lot more about Miao Luo,’ Xiao Bai agreed at last. ‘I won’t be able to recommend something truly effective if there are things I don’t know. So, no secrets, Dijun – no side plans that you don’t share with me.’

Dijun arched his eyebrows and sighed. Zhe Yan has not cast me in a good light, he thought.

Naturally, Dijun had kept many of his plans secret throughout his life. He had seen too much treachery. But his life was changing now. He would have to make different choices with Xiao Bai.

Nodding, Dijun agreed, ‘I will carry out no plans without consulting you, Xiao Bai.’

She beamed at him with satisfaction and trust…truly a priceless gift, especially from a nine-tailed fox…and especially from the woman he adored. Dijun remembered how he had envied that same trust between Qingti and Xiao Jiu during his mortal trial as Song Xuanren. Even then, he had seen it clearly as better than the miserable infatuation that had ensnared him. Dijun’s heart glowed at the thought of a lifetime of proving himself worthy of Xiao Bai’s trust…although he sighed in bemusement as well.

It might indeed take a lifetime – Zhe Yan has seen to that…

Dijun led Xiao Bai to his study, where he looked through his shelves and withdrew half a dozen scrolls dealing with Miao Luo. These, he had never shared with other scholars or taught in any school. They were his private writings, mainly notes that he had kept on aspects of Miao Luo’s evolution that he had noticed over the millennia. Zhong Lin appeared just as Dijun and Xiao Bai were settling in at the table where Dijun did most of his reading and annotation.

‘Prepare suitable rooms for the Princess of Qingqiu,’ Dijun instructed. ‘In a few hours, Xiao Bai and I will take a light meal.’

Zhong Lin acknowledged the orders with a bit more enthusiasm that necessary, Dijun thought, but he couldn’t be troubled to rebuke the steward. He and Xiao Bai had not quite a full month before Miao Luo’s next projection was likely to intrude on the Fanyin Valley. They could not be careless with their time.

‘Have you heard in your lessons that Miao Luo arose from the harmful energies of greed, envy, shame, war, and other sins and sufferings of the world?’ he asked Xiao Bai as he untied and rolled out one of his oldest scrolls – so ancient that the writing on the bamboo slats had faded considerably.

Xiao Bai nodded, and he was pleased to see how eagerly her eyes twinkled at the sight of his old scrolls. It was unexpected – he had not taken her for a scholar. Xiao Bai had always struck him more as a person of action.

‘Yes, and I studied more than required. Ancient History was my favorite subject in school,’ she confessed.

‘Oh?’ Dijun remarked, very curious to hear how Xiao Bai had interpreted the knowledge that he had chosen to share about Miao Luo with other immortals. He had deliberately revealed only fragments and waited to hear what theories emerged from the minds of others. In their efforts to make sense of her contradictory nature, Dijun had hoped that at least one immortal might have hit upon a theory that he hadn’t already considered. So far, though, his hopes had been disappointed.

But Xiao Bai had proven herself to be quite clever. So, he leaned on his elbow, gazing at her with the eyes of a besotted man, and prompted, ‘What do you understand of Miao Luo?’

Chapter Text

It was the first time in a long time that Fengjiu had ignored dinner and talked straight through until breakfast. And, the night before, when Dijun had first asked her to tell him what she understood of Miao Luo, Fengjiu would hardly have imagined things turning out like this. At first, she had been struck speechless.

It was one thing to show off to her teachers in school how much she knew about Dong Hua Dijun’s achievements in ancient history. But to discuss those same achievements, at least where they concerned Miao Luo, with the one who had lived them all? How was she supposed to start? What could she say that Dijun did not already know himself? All the arcane knowledge she had prided herself on, that had led to her best marks in school? When faced with discussing it to the authority on Dijun’s clash with Miao Luo – Dijun, in person – Fengjiu felt like the proverbial box that rattled loudly because there was no more than a tiny pebble inside it.

For some reason, when she found her voice, the first thing Fengjiu said that she knew about Miao Luo was that the demon had a childhood in which she had been an ever-changing trickster. It was the Buddha who had first seen through her disguises. This had been a worrisome point for Fengjiu when she had first learned the story, because, as a young kit, Fengjiu had been more than a little mischievous.

Dijun’s eyes had flickered with interest at this and he had said, ‘This is not what most people think of first when considering Miao Luo.’

‘What do they usually think of?’ Fengjiu asked while Dijun continued unrolling ancient-looking scrolls on the table before them.

Dijun glanced upward thoughtfully…or so it seemed. But his contemplative demeanor stiffened into something rigid, calcified, and…dusty. In a flat voice, he recited, ‘Demon King Miao Luo came along and challenged Dong Hua’s sole rule by fighting Dong Hua in a decisive battle…’

‘But don’t…don’t the scholars think more deeply?’ Fengjiu asked, recognizing the rote recitation of the first sentence of a standard scroll taught in immortal schools. Surely, those reclusive, bookish scholars her teachers had held in awe must have attained insights about Miao Luo that were far beyond what she could imagine.

‘There are precious few who do not begin with the battle. For most, Miao Luo is always the great adversary to be defeated, and that is what limits them,’ Dijun explained. ‘The only solution they can imagine is already framed in this beginning, in the same way that the placement of a stone on the chessboard determines the moves that follow. Starting where you have, with the fact that Miao Luo was once a trickster – a shifter -- what other solutions are possible?’

‘I..uh…make her change into something harmless, like a butterfly?’ Fengjiu guessed.

Dijun sighed and fixed disappointed eyes on hers. ‘Is that what you really think, Xiao Bai?’

Fengjiu squirmed and shook her head. She hadn’t felt truly convinced even when she’d said it.

‘Change is the key,’ Dijun conceded. ‘Change…perpetual change…growth and loss…are what feeds Miao Luo’s existence. And one of Miao Luo’s favorite taunts in a duel is that she cannot be killed by the usual means. Xiao Bai, Miao Luo is an illusion.’

Fengjiu frowned and leaned forward slightly, as if tugged by an itch in her mind. ‘But Dijun…how…Dijun, Miao Luo poisoned Shen Ye until he had to cut off his own arm. How could an illusion poison him?’

‘I did not say that there is no energy or substance at all there. But Miao Luo is the illusion,’ Dijun explained. ‘Do you remember the scorpion weed you harvested in the demon lands? It is a living thing that protects its existence – but its actions are not conscious. It may appear to menace, to strategize, but that is an illusion. It is the same with Miao Luo, which is no more than a whirlwind of the world’s suffering. Not born of any parents, with no kin, Miao Luo exists, reacts, and even plots – but does not truly live. Miao Luo is simply pain that cannot let go.’

Fengjiu couldn’t make sense of what Dijun was telling her right away, but she didn’t expect to. He had been searching for a solution for generations; how could Fengjiu expect to see the answer immediately.

And so they talked through the entire night.

For a while, they sat in his study where Dijun guided her through some of his oldest writings – treasures that he had shared with no one else.

Soon, though, Fengjiu had grown restless. She had never been one for sitting still for too long, which was why the risk of gathering scorpion weed had appealed to her in the first place. Dijun seemed to understand without her needing to say anything. When she began fidgeting, he led her on a walk through the gardens and down to the edge of a stunning, endless blue sea.

Dijun told her what lay far beyond that sea at the horizon’s edge.

Bihai Cangling, known to all the realms as his birthplace.

‘Even I have an origin. Even I change,’ Dijun explained with a smile.

They had been considering Shen Ye’s belief that Miao Luo could be poisoned.

‘But you have been hurt. You’ve been weakened,’ Fengjiu pointed out, having witnessed this personally when she had come to treat his injuries here in Tai Chen Palace. ‘Can’t the same thing happen to Miao Luo?’

Dijun nodded, took her hand and pressed it over his heart. ‘That is true. And I have healed. My strength has returned. The same would also happen to Miao Luo. I understand why Shen Ye has thought of trying to poison her. He is learning the way I did when I was much younger: by turning a wound he has suffered against the enemy who harmed him. But it will not be a lasting solution.’

Fengjiu’s cheeks flushed warm at the feel of Dijun’s heart thrumming faintly through his chest and robes. The intimacy was all so new to her. And she realized that Dijun had opened himself up to her in so many ways beyond the physical intimacy of touch. He had shown her the vault, which was concealed from all others save Zhong Lin. He had let her hold and study ancient scrolls that held thoughts he had shared with few or no other immortals. Now, Dijun was even telling her how his mind had worked in his youth. It was almost too much, too overwhelming… and yet it fit with what Dijun had said in the Fanyin Valley.

Between thought and action and outcome, there is no difference. I am trying not to be presumptuous with you, but it is difficult when in my mind, it has already happened.

No wonder failing to win Zhou Mengxi’s heart in the mortal realm had inflicted such suffering on Dijun’s mortal incarnation. Dijun, himself, had lost the habit of failure and equated his own vision of how something should be with already having achieved it.

Which was why he was treating Fengjiu so intimately now – sharing his thoughts and his home and his past. In his mind, they were already married.

Fengjiu still wanted to have a true courtship. It mattered to her because of her Gu Gu’s ordeal. Instead of a proper courtship, Gu Gu’s marriage to Ye Hua had been part of a Heavenly Trial that had broken poor Gu Gu’s heart many times over. It might be silly, but Fengjiu felt that if she and Dijun could manage to do things normally, it might cleanse away any lingering misfortune hanging over the Bai Clan.

So, she shared some of her own past experiences with Dijun, reciprocating his openness with her. They continued walking along the shore of the Holy Jade Sea, then began walking along a path up toward a training yard. As they passed a small, bamboo forest, Fengjiu told Dijun of her first memories as a kit, when she had raced far and wide across all of Qingqiu with such energy, it was hard for her elders to keep up with her.

That had been the beginning of Zhe Yan’s guardianship over her. She had been such a wild, unruly little kit that only Zhe Yan, with his unique vision, had been able to keep track of her.

‘Having Zhe Yan for an uncle has been good for you,’ Dijun commented with genuine respect. It surprised Fengjiu a little, since she had long been aware of how Zhe Yan’s feathers got ruffled by Dijun and figured that it went both ways.

Perhaps that was what prompted her to wonder, ‘Dijun, have you ever discussed Miao Luo with Zhe Yan?’

‘No,’ Dijun answered swiftly. ‘I can’t.’

There was no judgment in his eyes as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Fengjiu rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. ‘Of course, I should have remembered. Uncle can’t share too much about the future or he could change it,’ she berated herself.

‘It isn’t that, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘Zhe Yan sees the world, and all of existence, differently. There are none who share his gift. Therefore, there are none who could understand anything he might wish to describe. This includes me, although I have made efforts.’

Fengjiu’s brow furrowed at this.

Something about what Dijun said lingered with her, like a burr or leaf stuck to one of her tails. Fengjiu accompanied him to the practice yard and admired the space where Dijun practiced his swordcraft. In addition to a solid, round, wooden sparring platform, there were a variety of natural and built obstacles. She was certain that her grandfather would envy its versatility – and take away a few ideas for his own practice yard near the Fox Den.

Dijun was sparring with her, just as she and Qingti had done so often together in the military barracks of Cheng Yu, when Zhong Lin approached and asked about serving breakfast. Fengjiu realized that she was ravenous and didn’t remember eating much of anything for dinner. She and Dijun had talked the whole night through.

Yet she realized something even more important. While Dijun instructed Zhong Lin to bring their breakfast here, to the practice yard, an idea began to take shape, born of the entire evening she had spent with Dijun.

‘Dijun…you asked me earlier how I would deal with a sickness that can’t ever fully be cured,’ she began as he gestured for her to sit at a low table beneatha ginkgo tree. ‘No answer came to mind immediately then, but it should have. Zhe Yan had quizzed me on my knowledge of immortal ailments for centuries. I finally realized why: there are no diseases among immortals that cannot be fully cured. Even Qiushui Cold Toxin, which is very difficult to treat, can eventually be fully purified. But among mortals, there are diseases that can endure for an entire lifetime. Their bodies are so weak…’

Dijun nodded and conjured a pot of tea for them as refreshment after their overnight, meandering walk around much of Tai Chen Palace and its gardens. He poured her a cup of light, fragrant tea and encouraged, ‘Go on, Xiao Bai.’

‘In immortal medicine, we lack experience with illness that can’t be cured, just like you lack the experience to be able to understand Zhe Yan’s vision. For immortals, everything is about restoring harmony, restoring balance. But plenty of mortals suffer their entire lives with an illness they can never be free of. And their physicians….their physicians can only try to control the symptoms enough that the patients are able to bear living with their disease.’

‘You see now,’ Dijun smiled at her, his eyes holding more than pride or admiration. Fengjiu’s heart floated as if untethered to her body to see outright worship in his gaze. ‘For thousands of years, I have restrained Miao Luo to suppress the worst of her effects on the world. But she grows stronger, and the cage I have her in will not contain her forever.’

Fengjiu’s smile grew as she finally had a clear sense of the challenge Dijun had invited her to solve with him. ‘It is like one of the mortal infections that requires greater and greater doses of an elixir to manage the symptoms.’

‘Well said, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun sighed studying her dreamily. Fengjiu blushed to wonder where his imagination was taking him.

‘Miao Luo’s cage can’t hold her forever,’ Fengjiu advised, a daring, impossible plan forming in her mind. ‘So…we need to move the cage inside her. Let her experience backfires when she uses her power, no matter where she is…That is how we use the Soul Locking Jade.’

She and Dijun discussed how they might trick Miao Luo into consuming the Soul Locking Jade while they shared breakfast. When her stomach was full, the lack of sleep finally caught up with Fengjiu and her eyes grew heavy. The next thing she knew, Dijun had phased her to his side and was settling her against his chest in a loose embrace.

‘Didn’t….’ Fengjiu yawned, losing focus as her mind drifted. ‘….didn’t Zhong Lin prepare me a room?’

‘Just sleep here, Xiao Bai,’ Dijun murmured as he kissed the top of her head. ‘Nothing will disturb you while I am near.’

Chapter Text

Shen Ye tried not to look. It would be intrusive and disrespectful.

Yet the archmage could not resist stealing fleeting glimpses of the beauty who dozed against Dijun’s side. Even closed, her eyes held the allure of caring and intelligence. Her features were regal yet not overly delicate – they had a commander’s strength. She was the perfect Empress for the legendary unifier of the realms.

Perfect, because it seemed she was also a brilliant strategist.

‘Infect Miao Luo with the Soul Locking Jade?’ Shen Ye murmured to himself, a distracted smile tugging at his lips. ‘Weave its power to trap magic inside her, rather than imprisoning her within it….’

‘As with your case, when Miao Luo tricked Xiangli Junuo into feeding you poison, Miao Luo will have to be tricked into consuming the Soul Locking Jade, once Xiao Bai and I change it to a form that can be consumed,’ Dijun explained.

‘Miao Luo will not be easily tricked,’ Shen Ye warned, although he felt foolish doing so. What could he possibly know of Miao Luo that Dijun did not already know?

‘You are right,’ Dijun agreed. ‘She will be expecting an attempt to restrain her. She will be more aggressive in her pursuit of the pimpon fruit. You must protect the people of the Fanyin Valley, and the pimpon tree, with greater vigilence than ever.’

Shen Ye nodded; Dijun’s anticipation of trouble from Miao Luo matched his own. ‘I have already had an idea, Dijun. There is a small amount of risk, but if my plan works, Miao Luo will be denied the pimpon fruit for more than a month.’

Dijun’s gaze held Shen Ye so powerfully that, for a moment, he forgot to let himself breathe. Only when the ancient god began to smile did Shen Ye exhale – yet he still trembled slightly.

‘If there is trouble after you release the valley, summon me immediately,’ Dijun instructed before waving his hand and closing the window that he had created with space-folding magic.

Shen Ye was now staring at the unadorned, wooden wall of his study. He steadied his nerves through several, long moments of deep breathing and contemplated the awesome power that it took for Dijun to open a gateway between not one but two mystical barriers. The Fanyin Valley itself was sealed away from the outside world by a magical shield, and Shen Ye’s own ward divided the valley between a perpetual winter and the temperate fields where he sheltered most of the population.

What will it be like for me, Shen Ye wondered, to return to His Majesty, whose magic must be as vast as the sea? Will I be merely a drop of water lost in the ocean?

A vision of Dihou’s serene, sleeping face flitted through his mind. That would not be so bad…

Shen Ye rose from the thick, straw cushion where he had been kneeling during his meeting with Dijun. He walked through his garden, out the gate, and along the well-traveled dirt path that the farmers and merchants took when they left the ward to spend their allotted time in the capital city. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby grasses and leaves in the trees. It was a peaceful haven he had created for his fellow Biyiniao and the thought of jeopardizing it gave Shen Ye pause. Nevertheless, he would risk it, for he had a sense of forboding that Miao Luo’s next attack would be more severe than anything he had yet faced.

He crossed through the hidden gateway from the sunlit ward to the cold, frosted grove where the ancient pimpon tree stood in the real Fanyin Valley. The pythons raised their heads in greeting from where they were coiled around their columns, ever vigilant against an attack.

‘The time for action is coming,’ Shen Ye advised them through their shared mind-speech. ‘Our enemy fears what Dong Hua Dijun may do. I have a plan. Whether it is bold or foolish depends on whether it succeeds…’

The massive serpents bobbed their heads in acknowledgment. As always, it was difficult for Shen Ye to understand their mind-speech, but he sensed their resolve to protect life in the Fanyin Valley by guarding the pimpon tree. A moment later, all four of them coursed across the snowy ground and encircled the trunk. They wrapped themselves around the branches and their coils covered the hollow where the fruit would have grown if winter had not kept the tree dormant.

Satisfied that his strongest allies were prepared for the challenge that he was about to initiate, Shen Ye returned to the ward and instructed five of the children who were his most-energetic messengers to run throughout the community and summon them to a banquet he would host that evening. Then, he instructed his few servants to hired every cook in the community to prepare an array of dishes for the largest banquet ever held since he had created this ward. When all had gathered that evening in the market square and were seated at hundreds of tables, Shen Ye announced to them that the life they had known here in the ward was about to change.

‘Our peaceful valley has long been menaced by a powerful demon. The winter has kept us safe. But the demon is now growing more desperate. It is likely that within the next month, she may attempt a more-vicious attack. So, I plan to try a new strategy, one that will change everything about how we have lived…’

Shen Ye and his fellow Biyiniao shared a final meal together in the ward that had been their home for much of his adult life.

It wasn’t that he was asking them to leave their homes, however. They would be able to live as they had before, farming and raising families right here. Rather – it was that he would have to leave them and venture back into the outer world.

As household after household extinguished all but one of their lanterns and retired for the night, Shen Ye sat and meditated in his garden. He would have to move quickly and expend a substantial amount of his magic to achieve his objective. There was no guarantee that it would work. But, he knew that Dong Hua Dijun was also working on a brilliant solution – Shen Ye would not be alone in his effort. This gave him courage.

Courage enough in the morning to leave the ward, raise his hands in the chilled air of the real Fanyin Valley, and slowly undo the spell that had blanketed his home in a perpetual winter. Warmth gradually returned to the environment, melting the silvery frost from branches and leaves and prompting light showers from the trees as ice and snow melted into water. After a few hours, frozen ground became damp and muddy. And from every twig on every branch, on trees all around him, tiny green buds began to push out and grow into leaves of every shape.

It had been such a powerful spell that Shen Ye felt a surge of renewed inner strength when he no longer needed to expend a steady flow of cultivation to suppress the natural progression of the seasons.

Will Dijun feel similarly restored, when I return to him….or am I too broken?

Shen Ye couldn’t help wondering, now that he was aware of his true nature. Yet such questions must wait. Now that the pimpon tree was reviving along with all of the other vegetation in the Fanyin Valley, he must work harder and more quickly than ever before. The pimpon tree usually took a year to produce a mature fruit.

Shen Ye knew that he must coax it to do so in a matter of weeks.

He must be able to pick the fruit and get it safely away from the Fanyin Valley before Miao Luo could seize hold of it. He would deliver it to Dijun before Miao Luo’s next projection arrived on a desperate mission.

For attacking Dihou had already shown desperation.

Miao Luo’s power must have been depleted, yet she had still attempted to harm Dihou. That panic would be worse once Miao Luo built up enough strength to cast another projection.

And Shen Ye knew that he would be the target.

He had been one of Miao Luo’s targets his entire life.

So, he must steal her other prize away from her, at least for one year, before she could kill him.

***

Ensconced in Dijun’s study, Fengjiu worked with a diligence she had never shown for her classes in school.

Once Dijun had told her what Shen Ye was doing – that he had restored all four seasons to the Fanyin Valley and intended to bring forth a pimpon fruit from the ancient tree – Fengjiu had thrown herself into the quest for a way to break the Soul Locking Jade down into something smaller, more like a powder, without diminishing its mystical power.

For as Zhe Yan’s apprentice, she had learned early on that one of the greatest challenges in healing was to get the patient to take their medicine. They all hated it.

So, a good healer learned how to make the medicine palatable enough that a patient would be willing to take it.

And Shen Ye had just given her and Dijun the perfect vessel, something that Miao Luo would be eager to consume.

The pimpon fruit itself.

If Miao Luo could be made to think she’d snatched the pimpon fruit away from Shen Ye, right as he’s trying to smuggle it out of the Fanyin Valley, she won’t hesitate to devour it and drain it of every bit of mystical energy. She’ll never suspect that it contains a ward that will trap her own magic within her.

Chapter Text

There seemed to be an awful lot of birds in Tai Chen Palace, Fengjiu thought. She sat in the serene, sunlit gardens at a table near a fish pond that was ringed by grasses, low rocks, and a fence. The scent of jasmine drifted in the air and mingled with the white sandalwood incense that Dijun hat lit in a small, bronze brazier nearby. Yet what Fengjiu noticed were the birds: pairs of hummingbirds swooping and darting, larks singing in the trees, and more than a few cranes perched on long, skinny legs in the pond. It shouldn’t have surprised Fengjiu, given that her uncle was visiting.

‘Are those dark circles under your eyes?’ Zhe Yan asked, glancing pointedly between Fengjiu and Dijun as he fanned himself across the table from the two of them. Before Fengjiu could answer, her uncle-by-marriage directed a stern gaze at Dijun and demanded, ‘What have you been doing with Xiao Jiu, Dong Hua?’

‘Uncle!’ Fengjiu yelped, but Dijun merely smiled at her and waved his hand to dismiss her concern. He did cast a brief look of disdain at Zhe Yan and added, ‘He’s always been like this. Zhe Yan, Xiao Bai has been helping me develop a means to suppress Miao Luo’s power.’

‘Oh?’ Zhe Yan glanced at her pointedly from across the table where the three of them shared lunch. He smiled slyly and commented, ‘That is advanced healing. Tell me about the course of treatment you have planned, Xiao Jiu.’

As Fengjiu catalogued the methods that she and Dijun had experimented with to transform the Soul Locking Jade into something that Miao Luo would willingly consume, she was aware that Zhe Yan was studying her. He had focused his attention on her like this before during her apprenticeship, right around each time she had mastered a new skill in healing. So, she did her best to elaborate on the details of her proposed techniques….but for some reason, no matter how brilliant they seemed to her, Zhe Yan regarded her as if he was still waiting for her to get to the point.

What was she missing?

To Fengjiu’s surprise, though, it was Dijun to whom Zhe Yan directed a disappointed sigh.

‘Dong Hua, have you really not understood why my niece can help you defeat Miao Luo after all these years? You’ve hosted her here in your palace for a week, and in that time, all you have to show for it are different ideas about how to pulverize, liquify, or vaporize that stone of yours?’

‘Enlighten me, please, Fengxian*. You seem desperate to,’ Dijun leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand, adopting a stance that Fengjiu could only describe as taunting.

It dawned on Fengjiu that these two ancients were posturing over her. Well, perhaps not; from the stories Zhe Yan had told her, they could snipe at each other over nearly anything. Still, she had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling.

Zhe Yan was visibly annoyed by Dijun’s flippant demeanor. He folded his elegant fan up with an abrupt snap and fixed Dijun with a disdainful stare. ‘I would have thought you would have remembered your encounter with her in the mortal realm.’

‘I haven’t forgotten a thing,’ Dijun countered, his polite smile doing little to mask the annoyance in his eyes. Fengjiu imagined he was already calculating how he would get payback against his fellow Ancient.

‘Fengjiu has always led with her heart,’ Zhe Yan said plainly, his smile warm with affection when he turned his attention to her. ‘Her cleverness made her a good student; her selfless devotion to those she cares for made her a great healer. And that is how you will finally defeat Miao Luo.’

‘But uncle,’ Fengjiu finally broke in. ‘I can’t just….care…and somehow banish Miao Luo.’

‘Of course you can’t, silly fox!’ Zhe Yan narrowed his eyes at her impatiently and poked her forehead with his fingertip. Beside her, Dijun swiftly took her hand in his and reached out to swat Zhe Yan’s hand away.

‘You have thought the first step of your work through quite well,’ Zhe Yan explained, ignoring Dijun’s ire. ‘But, Xiao Jiu, it is you who will get Miao Luo to lower her guard and take this medicine that you and Dijun are preparing. She would expect deception from Dijun and from his shadow. You, however, lead with your heart. You are kind and Miao Luo sees kindness as weakness to prey upon; but it is you who are stronger.’

‘I will not endanger Xiao Bai,’ Dijun declared with finality. Fengjiu turned to assure him that she wouldn’t do anything foolish and was surprised to see how coldly he stared at Zhe Yan.

‘Dijun…’ Fengjiu whispered at him, bringing her free hand over to cover his as he tightened his grip on her other hand.

‘Dong Hua fears you will take any lethal blow Miao Luo aims at him, as you took the demon blade for Ye Qingti,’ her uncle-by-marriage explained. Fengjiu’s lips parted in mute protest, but Zhe Yan’s next words overruled any further assurance she might offer Dijun. ‘Xiao Jiu, you must understand that Dijun never left the battlefield. He fought the wars of unification and has been overseeing the peace of the realms ever since. Everything is a calculation to him. He is not reacting to any signs you have shown that you will do something rash should there be an attack by Miao Luo. Already, this lovesick old man is reacting instead to his inability to tolerate the thought of losing you.’

‘Uncle…’ Fengjiu stopped short of chiding Zhe Yan, even though she winced at how harsh his words seemed. She had been prepared from him to indulge in a bit of teasing, but this sounded like he was judging Dijun.

But, rather than stoking Dijun’s ire further, Zhe Yan’s words seemed to calm him. Dijun’s grip on her hand relaxed and, in an unexpectedly light voice, he asked, ‘Have you looked?’

Zhe Yan nodded. Suddenly, Fengjiu realized what he and Dijun meant.

‘But you don’t ever—’ she began until Zhe Yan waved his his hand to dismiss her concern.

‘Fengjiu, I rarely disclose what I see of the future because I know how easily it can be influenced. In truth, no one except this future husband of yours understands how much I see. I don’t just see the future of our world – I see them all. More than can be counted. And while most aspects of these many futures are fluid, with great and small changes possible, there is one that has recently become fixed and unchanging: your destiny with Dijun. There is no future I can see where you are not at Dijun’s side, Xiao Jiu. And that is fortunate for him.’

Irked, Fengjiu glanced between her uncle and Dijun, feeling a growl of annoyance rise in her throat. ‘Do I have any say in the matter? Not that my heart could change, but…but…what if I decided I don’t want--?’

‘Xiao Jiu,’ Zhe Yan broke in gently, his expression as sober as she had ever seen it. ‘I will say it again, slightly differently. There is no future I can see for Dijun without you by his side.’

Fengjiu’s voice caught in her throat. What could she say to that? What did it mean? Would Dijun really die without her? That was impossible – what was this hogwash that Uncle Zhe Yan was suggesting? In the end, she just wrapped her arm around Dijun’s and leaned against him. When she tilted her face up to his, his expression was much calmer than she expected. He even seemed pleased and tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Across the table from them, Zhe Yan sighed and shook his head. With a smirk, he asked, ‘So, Dong Hua, do you have a marriage proposal for me to take back to Bai Yi?’

‘No,’ Dijun answered to her surprise.

‘Eh?’ Zhe Yan frowned, equally astonished.

Dijun turned to her and pointed out, ‘You said you did not want to rush things. We will take as long as you wish, Xiao Bai.’

Zhe Yan sat back, still astonished, but smirking with delight. He even chuckled and pointed at Dijun. ‘After centuries of tossing them out, you’ve finally found the one who bends you to her will.’

‘Tossing them--?’ Dijun muttered, puzzled, until Fengjiu saw a deadly spark of understanding light up his narrowed eyes. Slowly, he turned his head from Fengjiu to Zhe Yan and accused, ‘You told her about that?’

Eager to head off a fight, Fengjiu gripped Dijun’s arm even tighter, leaned close, and murmured against his ear, ‘Only because I was curious to know if you have ever loved, Dijun.’

This stilled Dijun in a way that Fengjiu could only describe as…ethereal. For a moment, he seemed lightheaded, immaterial – absent and omnipresent all at once. His expression smiled at her like a child even if his lips had frozen in an imperceptible gape. Then, it was as if Dijun shook himself awake and a fragment of his sulkiness returned.

‘Remind me sometime to tell you stories about your uncle before he met Bai Zhen,’ Dijun muttered, even as he drew Fengjiu’s hand up to his mouth to kiss.

Zhe Yan huffed, ‘As if he will bother to wait for your reminder. I expect I’ll be slandered for the next millennium.’

Fengjiu stifled a giggle at these two, insufferable Ancients but then regained her composure and said, ‘Shouldn’t we get back to how I am going to help Dijun defeat Miao Luo? I still don’t see it.’

‘Simply put, it is because Miao Luo perceives only two things: weakness or strength,’ Zhe Yan nodded his head toward Dijun. ‘And she measures these solely in relation to herself. As she has grown as a force, she has felt her own strength. But she does not have the capacity to care – she is not truly a being in that way – and so, to her, caring is a weakness. Thus, where Dijun seeks to take the burdens of the Universe all upon himself to shield others, Miao Luo uses others. She consumes their energy to expand herself. That is because Dijun is an actual being…Miao Luo is something less. Powerful, but not truly alive. Ironically, Miao Luo, who is more a thing than a person, views all others as things for her to use to advance her goals.’

‘I have already told Xiao Bai this,’ Dijun drawled impatiently.

Zhe Yan tilted his face up to the sky and wearily wiped a hand across his eyes. ‘To think I am wasting a perfectly beautiful day in Heaven Kingdom on this,’ he muttered peevishly, before fixing a disappointed stare on Dijun and firing back. ‘Miao Luo acts predictably because she is merely an ever-expanding force. She deceives, and expects deception, but only from those she sees as powerful. Her power is vast and she uses deception, so the two are one and the same in her calculation. A true and genuine heart, like Fengjiu’s, Miao Luo would dismiss as weak – and therefore unlikely to be able to deceive her. So, Xiao Jiu would be the perfect bait – one who, by nature, leads with compassion for others. She is the sweet that would persuade Miao Luo to take a cure that she otherwise would be vigilant against. Except that what Miao Luo receives may seem like Xiao Jiu, but will not be Xiao Jiu. A decoy.’

‘Wait, uncle – have you already seen us do this in the future? Aren’t you risking--?’ Fengjiu voiced her concern, but Zhe Yan waved it off.

‘Why would I need to use my vision for this? I’m only predicting based on what I know of Dong Hua – and I have watched him act for hundreds of thousands of years.’

‘But…how can a decoy be convincing enough?’ Fengjiu persisted, her healer’s mind summoning all of her experience with counterfeit pills and potions and creams that were designed to mask their horrible taste or sickly odor, but that never quite fooled a patient. ‘Even a well-crafted golem is stiff and puppet-like in its actions.’

‘Xiao Bai,’ Dijun answered, ‘Shen Ye has released the Fanyin Valley from the perpetual winter he had imposed in order to keep the pimpon tree dormant. Within a few days, it will bear a long-delayed fruit. The pimpon fruit can be used to create a real, living body, one that is more natural than a golem. This is how we will create a decoy of you that will deceive Miao Luo. Its substance will be the very fruit she has coveted for years. Though she will not understand why, Miao Luo will be obsessed with seizing your decoy. And that is how we will strike at her.’

Chapter Text

She hated being confined. Dong Hua, the bane of her existence, had already confined her here long ago. He had fled the valley, though. Even he had turned out to be predictable. His ideals were an illusion. He had withdrawn for the sake of a little fairy he fancied, like any other man. Miao Luo crowed over Dong Hua’s fallen nobility. He was no better than she was; all that mattered to him were the things and people he coveted.

But Miao Luo also fumed that her own weakness was about to make her lose the prize that she had been waiting for from the Fanyin Valley. That insignificant Biyiniao sorcerer was forcing the pimpon tree to yield its fruit after sending the tree to sleep for a century. Filthy dog! He had realized that his time was running out, that she would not stop until she had claimed the fruit, and he was attempting to force the fruit to ripen before she regained enough strength to seize it.

No matter, she would kill him once she had the strength to send another of her shadows to the valley. The pimpon tree would bear another fruit, now that the fool had ended the winter. He had gained at most a year, at the cost of his life.

The beings of this world were worthless. And their self-professed guardian, Dong Hua, didn’t care about them; he only cared about his little fox princess.

*****

May Dijun and Dihou defeat Miao Luo with this.

The pimpon fruit had been solid and perfectly formed. Its outer skin rough, yet with a beautiful, reddish hue. Shen Ye’s palms had also felt the vitality that hummed through the entire fruit, its life-giving power radiating with the freshness of a newborn’s first breath. It was a fruit unlike any other in all the realms, and an increasingly rare treaure that Shen Ye now guarded vigilantly while he waited for Dijun to open their weekly portal with his space-folding magic.

At last, the view of the lake from his garden shimmered and disappeared, replaced by a circular gateway to the interior of Dijun’s study in Tai Chen Palace. The silver-haired, ancient emperor was serene as ever, even at the sight of the pimpon fruit.

‘Your Majesty,’ Shen Ye greeted his own origin respectfully. He held the pimpon fruit, the triumphant result of his effort, out in offering. ‘Please allow me to entrust you with the pimpon fruit, which ripened two days ago.’

With a nod of approval, Dijun gestured with his hand and the pimpon fruit vanished in a glimmer of violet magic. ‘Did you have any trouble with Miao Luo,’ Dijun asked.

Shen Ye’s teeth clenched in a desperate, haggard smile. ‘Not yet. I felt a menacing ripple of energy when I harvested the fruit, but it did little more than sting lightly. Miao Luo was too weak, but she nonetheless raged when I took the pimpon. I expect she will try to kill me once she has the power to send another projection.’

To Shen Ye’s surprise, Dijun’s eyes, which rarely showed emotion unless he was looking at Dihou, narrowed with concern. ‘Do you have the strength to fight her, or shall I send someone to assist you?’

Shen Ye hoped that Dijun did not doubt his resolve. ‘Dijun, I have the strength to fight her to the death. I will not--’

‘You will not help anyone by dying. Shen Ye, you are the greatest protector the Fanyin Valley has ever known. Without you, although Miao Luo would still be limited in her powers, she would do great harm to all living things there. The fragile, unique spiritual purity that is the Fanyin Valley would be lost.’

Dijun’s words humbled Shen Ye deeply. He had lived such a hard life and had given little thought to his own needs. And after discerning his true nature, and that he would return to Dijun after the end of this life, he had not feared death. But to be told of his own importance… it caused the hint of a smile to tug at his lips while his heart swelled with gratitude. His life mattered.

‘I humbly ask Dijun to send assistance, then,’ Shen Ye acknowledged, bowing his head. ‘Miao Luo had already shown great recklessness in attacking Dihou. Now that I have resurrected the pimpon tree, she will strike me with every weapon she has. As Dijun has said, Miao Luo’s intent is to deprive the Fanyin Valley of any protection and pervert it with her own, malevolent energy.’

‘You have shown the wisdom of a good leader, Shen Ye,’ Dijun commended him. Dijun raised his hand slightly and motioned forward with his hand. A moment later, a blue-robed immortal appeared, bringing with him a breath of familiarity. This was clearly one of Dijun’s servants; it would have been impossible for Shen Ye to have met him. And yet…deep in Shen Ye’s mind, he felt he know this immortal.

‘Zhong Lin will aid you in defending the Fanyin Valley when Miao Luo’s next projection appears. You only need hold her at an impasse until Xiao Bai and I are ready to return,’ Dijun explained.

Shen Ye nodded and replied, ‘Understood, Dijun. And…the pimpon?’

As the immortal Dijun had called Zhong Lin stepped through the portal into Shen Ye’s study, Dijun answered, ‘It will be safe from Miao Luo.’

Then, with a wave of his hand, Dijun closed the portal, leaving Shen Ye in his study with Zhong Lin.

‘We have little time. We should begin preparing for….’ Shen Ye began.

‘Honored Shen Ye,’ Zhong Lin interrupted as politely as possible. Although he bowed deferentially to Shen Ye, this Zhong Lin’s ability to take the lead and manage things seemed naturally effortless. ‘I have served Dijun for nearly half a million years. He has asked me to share some plans that may be of interest. They involve harnessing Miao Luo’s innate impulse to attack…’

*****

In the dim, greenish light of the Kingdom of the Underworld, Fengjiu stood beside Dijun while Xie Guchou, Lord of the Underworld, examined the pimpon fruit that Dijun had just passed to him. Xie Guchou’s heavy eyes, that had looked so sleepy when they had first arrived, gleamed with interest.

‘I have not seen a pimpon fruit in at least five hundred years,’ he said. Scrutinizing it closely, he surmised, ‘from the Fanyin Valley?’

‘Hm,’ Dijun acknowledged, before withdrawing a glowing, green vial from his sleeve. ‘Xiao Bai has assisted me in transforming a powerful talisman into this elixir. It has the power to contain the spiritual power of an immortal, even one as powerful as I.’

Xie Guchou took the vial from Dijun and scrutinized the deep, jade-colored liquid inside. Turning to Fengjiu, he nodded his head and offered her a smile of admiration. ‘I do not think even Zhe Yan has brewed such a postion. Your skills rival those of your teacher, Fengjiu Dian Xia.’

Fengjiu blushed at such high praise, and from a high immortal who was closer in age to her uncle-by-marriage and Dijun than to herself. And it seemed that Dijun couldn’t resist teasing her, for he chucked her beneath the chin and said, ‘Not bad for someone who stole scorpion weed from the demons.’

Miffed, Fengjiu seized Dijun’s arm and tugged it in protest. Chastened, he lowered his face and brushed the briefest of kisses against her forehead.

Xie Guchou cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, ‘Dijun and Dihou have given me two, formidable substances. I dare to presume that you are here to assign me a task…’

At Xie Guchou’s slightly gruff voice and increased deference, Fengjiu realized that she and Dijun had been a little too open in their affections. They couldn’t keep giving others the impression that they were already married when they hadn’t even told her parents yet. She let go of Dijun’s arm, but he caught her hand and placed it right back on the crook of his elbow, covering her hand with his.

He's bold as brass! Fengjiu thought silently as she blushed at Dijun’s utter lack of concern for appearances.

And yet Dijun became all business with Xie Guchou, who avoided looking at Fengjiu at all. ‘I do have a task for the Lord of the Underworld. With this pimpon fruit, I would like you to create a golem modeled on Xiao Bai. Into it, you will mix the elixir made of the Soul Locking Jade. Xiao Bai and I will bring it to life when you have completed the golem.’

Xie Guchou’s brow knitted with puzzlement. ‘An ordinary golem? Forgive me, Dijun, why would you waste something as precious as the pimpon fruit when a golem can be animated form ordinary wood? Is a pimpon fruit not used for creating a body infused with a soul – mortal or immortal?’

‘For the use we will make of this golem, it would be sinful to endow it with a soul,’ Dijun explained sternly enough that Xie Guchou instinctively lowered his head for a moment. ‘But its physical substance must be something that Miao Luo has long coveted if we are to provoke her.’

‘I understand, Dijun,’ Xie Guchou acknowledged, his voice steady even though his posture remained tense. ‘If it is merely a golem you wish, I can have this prepared in two days. Crafted from the pimpon fruit, it will indeed be living, but still a puppet, without a soul.’

Dijun nodded. ‘That is where Xiao Bai and I will step in to finish the work…’

***

‘Shen Ye, show yourself!’ Miao Luo demanded as she let the two, Biyiniao bodies fall to the ground. Their life essence filled her with strength. She was done tolerating the Archmage’s existence.  

A rustling in the bushes near Shen Ye’s villa drew Miao Luo’s attention, but she heard only the light snapping of twigs, no doubt under the paws of some small animal. She waited a few moments longer, then shouted again, ‘Show yourself, Shen Ye, or I will eat every last Biyiniao in this valley!’

She should have done this years ago. Why had she spared any of these weaklings?

Including this one, who appeared so predictably in response to her threat.

Shen Ye.

He was already a broken man, his arm sacrificed to the betrayal of that foolish Biyiniao princess. Yet he stepped through the shield that protected his villa to face Miao Luo out of a deluded sense of heroism. Soon he would be dead, unable to protect himself or the Biyiniao…or the pimpon tree.

‘You should not have returned, shadow,’ Shen Ye challenged.

Miao Luo tossed her head back and cackled at him.

‘Fool! Do you think I am just a puppet? I am the right arm of Miao Luo!’

‘We both know what can happen to arms,’ Shen Ye fired back as he drew his sword.

At this, Miao Luo cackled even louder. ‘You are the only one missing an arm, Shen Ye. Don’t you understand? I am always part of Miao Luo, no matter how many times you think you have killed me. Now…try to stop me as I burn through the Biyiniao city!’

She heard Shen Ye shouting defiantly as she phased herself to the center of the Biyiniao capital, but did not care. Before she was finished, she would kill so many of these weak birds that Shen Ye would beg to be allowed to impale himself on her sword. With glee, Miao Luo reveled in her power to destroy and hurled a fiery damask at the thatched roof of a nearby house.

But her damask seemed to vanish without a trace. The roof wasn’t even singed. Miao Luo hurled another, and another…and another. Each one soared through the air as an arc of yellow and red flames but vanished into nothingness when it struck its target.

Worse, there were Biyiniao trudging about in the streets and haggling with each other at merchants’ stalls, and all of them were ignoring her. Not a single one was fleeing. Then let them die! She stalked up to a crowd of students and sneered with triumph as she stretched out her hand to suck their life-energy into herself.

Nothing happened. NOTHING!

The students looked at her oddly, shrugged, and moved away.

What is happening?! Miao Luo fumed in frustration.

She could not waste her energy here any further until she uncovered the trick that Shen Ye was playing. In a swirl of red smoke, she returned to her source.

***

Zhong Lin extinguished the last of the fires that Miao Luo’s projection had caused with her fiery damasks. Then, he set about reassuring the frightened Biyiniao, who had all played their parts admirably but were understandably shaken.

‘I thought for sure she would kill me,’ a nearby Imperial College student muttered, clutching his chest as he leaned against the side of a house.

‘I nearly pissed myself,’ another admitted, which set all of them to laughing heartily together at their terrifying – yet successful – brush with the monster who had terrorized their valley for so long.

‘You can be proud of how well you did,’ Zhong Lin commended them as a circle of townspeople grew around them. ‘The first test of our strategy has worked. As your queen commanded them to do, the wild birds around Shen Ye’s villa flew here to warn us as soon as Miao Luo’s projection appeared there to threaten him. And the illusion spells and deflection charms that Dijun sent me to employ among you were effective in tricking Miao Luo’s projection into believing that her attack had failed. We must cover all traces of damage before she returns. For Dijun’s plan to work, Miao Luo’s frustration must be driven to maddening extremes.’

Zhong Lin smiled with approval at the renewed energy and courage among the Biyiniao after having survived this first assault. People encouraged each other with good cheer. Neighbors helped those whose roofs had sustained minor damage to remove any charred thatch and replace it with fresh straw. Miao Luo’s projection must be kept from discovering that illusions had hidden the fact that her fiery attack had, indeed, caused some homes to burn.

Meanwhile, the students helped load the dead pigs, that had taken the brunt of Miao Luo’s projection’s attempt to siphon away the students’ life-energy, onto a butcher’s cart. The unfortunate animals would be sold at market a little earlier than they might otherwise have been, but they had been the closest beasts onto which Zhong Lin could deflect the demoness’s power.

A red, spiritual fox trotted up to Zhong Lin and yipped for his attention.

‘Is there a new threat?’ the steward of Tai Chen Palace asked, tensing at the possibility that Miao Luo had figured out their deceptions much, much more quickly than anticipated.

But the fox, who with all foxes in the valley had been commanded by Fengjiu Dihou to assist him in his mission, shook its head and instead projected an image of a red-cloaked figure out gathering medicinal herbs in the wilderness just beyond the city.

Zhong Lin smiled with satisfaction.

Very good. This was the final strategem in the plan.

The bait to lure Miao Luo into a reckless attack after her frustration at being unable to harm the Biyiniao or Shen Ye had been stoked to a boiling point.

Chapter Text

It was the first time that Shen Ye had ever doubted Dong Hua Dijun. Shen Ye silently chided himself for his doubts. After all, how could Dijun not know Miao Luo better than Shen Ye, when it was Dijun who had managed to imprison her? It was just that…the golem was so poorly formed.

‘Xiao Bai will remain safely behind a protective ward,’ Dijun was explaining as they sat with Zhong Lin and Dihou in Shen Ye’s darkened study, a few candles providing the only light for their midnight meeting. Dijun took Fengjiu Dihou’s hand in his and continued, ‘I have cast a ward over the entire courtyard that she and I share. Although she has a role to play in our deception of Miao Luo, she must be protected from Miao Luo at all costs. It would be a disaster if Miao Luo were to reclaim the single drop of red qi that is embedded in Xiao Bai’s birthmark…’

Shen Ye tried to focus on Dijun’s words, but his eyes were too easily drawn to the golem that had been shaped to resemble Dihou, yet looked nothing like the true Dihou who sat at Dijun’s side. This…this obvious forgery was too smooth, too pure, too artificial. The eyes had none of Dihou’s intelligence – they were wide and vacant. The nose, mouth, and cheeks made her look like she was made of wax or jade. And Shen Ye saw these flaws easily, in spite of the poor lighting. He could only imagine how false the golem would look in daylight!

‘Dijun…’ Shen Ye finally spoke, unable to contain his unease any longer. ‘Very respectfully, I fear that Miao Luo will not be fooled by this golem. It looks almost nothing at all like Dihou.’

To Shen Ye’s dismay, Dijun’s expression sobered and his low voice exposed worry. ‘I will continue my efforts to refine Xiao Bai’s decoy here in the valley, but there was an unexpected flaw in the pimpon fruit. The tree, after remaining dormant for a century due to the winter, produced a fruit that was susceptible to corruption. It was too weak to take the shape of a true, immortal body.’

‘Then…Dihou…could you not remain in Heaven Kingdom or Qingqiu, where it is safer?’ Shen Ye suggested, appealing to the lovely goddess by Dijun’s side. ‘I dare not impugn your bravery, but would it not be better strategy to keep you far removed from the Fanyin Valley for now?’

Dihou’s answer further persuaded Shen Ye that the decoy was woefully, infinitely lesser than the real goddess, herself. ‘Thank you for your concern, Shen Ye. I take no offense at all, and see you worry on my behalf as further proof that you have been a true hero all your life. But I can’t leave Dong Hua to face Miao Luo’s projection without me. I know how hard he pushes himself. I even followed him into the mortal realm when he had exhausted himself in his effort to suppress her. If he needs healing, I can’t be stuck outside the Fanyin Valley – especially since the time when it will close to the outside world is so near.’

Shen Ye’s heart fluttered with admiration for the generosity and courage of this woman.

Yet, if Shen Ye had realized who was listening in at that very moment, he would have warned Dijun and Dihou to abandon their plans and return home to Tai Chen Palace at once.

For Miao Luo’s projection had discovered the role that birds and foxes had been playing in spying on her movements. Although she could not break the birds’ loyalty to the Biyiniao Queen Junuo or the foxes’ loyalty to the Qingqiu Princess, she could employ her own minions. Miao Luo’s projection spread her essence throughout the entire population of spiders in the Fanyin Valley, and now eavesdropped from multiple, shadowy corners in Shen Ye’s study.

A sinister glee swelled throughout the network of spiders and Miao Luo’s projection to reach Miao Luo herself.

So, Shen Ye tried to keep the pimpon fruit from me, and this is the result? I’ll show them that they can’t keep anything from me – including Dong Hua’s little fox princess. She is a softhearted fool for following him here. I’ll kill her and take back my red qi, and make Dong Hua regret that he ever got in my way!

Meanwhile, Shen Ye did his utmost to support Dijun and Dihou in their plan. He raised a formidable ward around his villa and asked the pythons to patrol around it occasionally, thus creating the impression that he was guarding something – or someone – very important. Shen Ye also took the golem out to the market on rare occasions, as if he had lowered his guard. There needed to be opportunities for Miao Luo to attack, after all. But Shen Ye dreaded what was, in his opinion, a very real possibility: that these excursions would only serve to expose the golem as a fake.

When one street vendor flattered Dihou’s decoy about how well the color red suited her, the golem giggled loudly, seeming far more like a silly, vain girl and less like the real Dihou.

Another sold her some tanghulu, and the golem was so appallingly sloppy in eating the candied fruit that she got the sticky coating, and even pieces of fruit, in her hair. Shen Ye could not imagine the real Dihou ever eating like such a gluttonous barbarian.

Shen Ye’s worst fears were indeed confirmed one week into the charade. Although he had caught brief glimpses of Miao Luo’s projection on a few occasions, observing him discreetly from one hiding place or another, she never attacked his villa, nor did she attempt to seize the golem. Instead, to Shen Ye’s horror, one evening he saw the deadly glow of orange flames and stifling, dark smoke rising in the distance from the courtyard where Dijun and Dihou had quietly ensconced themselves. According to the regular reports he had received from the local birds and foxes, Dihou rarely even set foot outside – she had concealed herself indoors as much as possible. As one fox had described it, ‘Dihou hardly left a track on the ground.’

Shen Ye rushed out of the front gate of his villa, making sure to restore the shield around it in the hope of persuading Miao Luo that the real prize was there, and not in Dijun’s and Dihou’s courtyard. In the blue darkness of early evening, Shen Ye hurried along wooded pathways from his villa on the outskirts of the Biyiniao capital, then dashed through the city streets. A few birds and a fox followed along with him, ever alert and loyal to the royal immortals who had commanded them. When Shen Ye reached the courtyard, his heart clenched at the sight of Dijun, Dihou, and Zhong Lin battling Miao Luo’s projection with all their might. But he scarcely hesitated before launching himself into the fray.

Shen Ye would die before he let Miao Luo lay a finger on Dihou.

He knew he was far, far less a champion in battle than the magnificent Dong Hua Dijun, yet Shen Ye summoned his sword and gripped it with his only hand. Miao Luo was vanishing and reappearing in all corners of the courtyard in a chaotic flurry. At one point, she was phasing herself so fast from place to place that two or three swirls of reddish-black smoke seemed to appear simultaneously. By a porch, by a tree, on the roof, near a small pond – Miao Luo was everywhere, and her damasks were so numerous that they choked the air. Dijun, meanwhile, had summoned the legendary sword, Canghe, and replicated it dozens of times. The effect was a lethal ballet of blades and damasks so thick that Shen Ye hardly found an entry point to join the melee.

But he kept his sights on Fengjiu Dihou and desperately fought his way toward her.

Swinging his solitary arm, Shen Ye deflected damasks with his sword and jabbed uselessly at Miao Luo’s projection, but he always just missed her. No matter. If his only use in this battle was to take wounds in Dihou’s stead, Shen Ye would count himself fortunate. He would shield Dijun’s compassionate, lovely bride.

Just as Shen Ye had fought his way within a final, few paces of Dihou, who was defending herself valiantly with swordcraft that rivaled Dijun’s, disaster struck. It was too horrifying to bear, and Shen Ye felt his heart turn to stone in his chest.

Miao Luo’s projection sank her clawed fingers into Dihou’s neck, somehow having managed to breach the protective, personalized shield that Dijun had cast around her. Dijun roared with rage and despair, sending every copy of Canghe converging on Miao Luo’s projection, but the vile demoness stirred up a maelstrom of fire around herself. And behind that veil of flames, Shen Ye saw Miao Luo’s projection suck the very essence out of Dihou.

He felt himself die. He wished he could die in her place.

Shen Ye was helpless as he watched her eyes and cheeks hollow inward in a terrible, ghoulish spectacle as the vital, spiritual energy was ripped from her twitching body and consumed by that monster. And the worst came when he saw the bright, reddish glow in Dihou’s birthmark flare briefly and then go dim. Not only had Miao Luo’s projection killed a brave and kindhearted goddess, but she had seized her lost drop of red qi, and would now be more powerful.

‘You deserve worse than death, Miao Luo,’ Dijun menaced her….but…with surprising calm.

Although Dijun lunged at her with the blade in his hand, the many other copies of Canghe hovered in the air.

Why was Dijun not enraged?

Miao Luo’s projection merely sneered at him contemptuously as she let Dihou’s body drop to the ground. ‘No, Dong Hua. I now have the power to break free of my prison. Soon, it is you who will be tasting death.’

The projection vanished, undoubtedly returning to its origin, the true Miao Luo.

Shen Ye dropped to his knees in despair. Why had he not done more to warn Dijun that the golem had not fooled Miao Luo?

And yet…

…to his surprise….Dijun was calm. Zhong Lin, who stood nearby, apart from regaining his breath after a furious battle, was similarly calm. Neither one of them spared so much as a glance for Dihou where she lay…

…where…what?!?

Before Shen Ye’s astonished eyes, what had seemed to be Dihou’s lifeless body slowly shriveled and shrank and twisted into a dried husk that looked more vegetal than immortal. The elegant limbs grew as brittle as bark and the face darkened until it was the same shade as—

For several moments, Shen Ye gaped, all breath, all sound frozen in his throat.

At last, Shen Ye murmured in amazement, ‘The pimpon fruit?!’

Quickly, Dijun phased them all – including the pimpon fruit – inside his luxurious receiving hall and cast a privacy ward around them. Shen Ye noticed dozens of spiders falling dead to the floor mats.

‘I am sorry that Xiao Bai, Zhong Lin, and I deceived you, Shen Ye,’ Dijun began, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. ‘It was necessary for deceiving Miao Luo. You needed to believe that the golem created from the pimpon fruit, and infused with the Soul Locking Jade, was actually Xiao Bai. I could not be sure, even if I fought convincingly to protect it, that Miao Luo’s projection would not, at the last minute, suspect a trap. Miao Luo has grown accustomed to expect deception from me. But it is deep in her nature, right down to her very origins, to be cruel. Your desperation to protect the true golem fed into her need to be cruel, to make others suffer. Her instinct to cause suffering overruled any suspicion she may have had, and led her to consume the golem immediately.’

‘And now, if all has worked according to Dijun’s and Dihou’s plan, Miao Luo has reintegrated her projection into herself, and the Soul Locking Jade along with it,’ Zhong Lin added, a hopeful smile softening his expression.

‘Where is Dihou?’ Shen Ye asked. ‘Did you leave her safely in Tai Chen Palace after all?’

An impish smile curved Dijun’s lips and his eyes glimmered with pride. ‘She is keeping watch over your villa, Shen Ye. Miao Luo’s projection overlooked her – much to my relief.’

Recoiling slightly, Shen Ye grimaced in disbelief and then began laughing heartily at himself. ‘You mean that waxy, badly carved golem was the real Dihou all along, in disguise?’

Zhong Lin and Dijun exchanged a smirk. Then, Dijun waved his hand and used his space-folding magic to open a portal to Shen Ye’s villa. However, Shen Ye saw that it was the exterior of the villa – amid the manicured shrubs and trees that adorned the path leading away from the main gate – and not in his study where he had left the golem. There was an almost imperceptible rustling in the leaves several paces away that slowly, steadily drew closer. Shen Ye could not see Dihou anywhere, though. Was she behind a concealment spell?

An enchanting, red, nine-tailed fox emerged from the bushes and trotted confidently toward the three of them. Once through the portal, the fox transformed into an even more enchanting goddess with a red, phoenix-feather birthmark on her forehead.

‘Did it work?’ Dihou asked Dijun, her gaze lingering on him with the discernment of one who was used to searching for gashes, wounds, and other ailments. Shen Ye could see her instant concern for Dijun’s well-being echoed in the Ancient god’s own gesture, as Dijun reached out to take her hand.

‘I will only be able to answer you with certainty after I visit Miao Luo in her prison,’ Dijun answered, although he smiled at Dihou and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

***

Deep in the Miaoyi Chasm, tightly bound by vines, Miao Luo gazed in shock at her own blood on the stone floor of the cave. Ten-thousand shards of glass seemed to be slicing up her insides. She had coughed blood at least six times.

Every time she had tried to tap her restored, red qi and break free of the cursed vines that had held her here for thousands of years.

No…no…what was this? What was happening?!

Miao Luo flexed her arms once more, scowling in fierce concentration, and let out a shriek as she tried to use her power to burst the vines, but her shriek magnified to a howl of agony as pain ripped through her center again. Miao Luo doubled over and spat another mouthful of blood on the ground.

It couldn’t be….it couldn’t be…..he’d tricked her!

‘DONG HUA!!!’

Chapter Text

He knew that he had disappointed Xiao Bai when he had refused to bring her along with him to see whether the Soul Locking Jade had effectively sealed Miao Luo’s power. However, Dijun was unwilling to put Xiao Bai at risk until he was certain that Miao Luo could not harm her. And, true to her empathetic nature, Xiao Bai was willing to forgive him for being so protective, especially when he promised that she could join him as soon as he had assured himself that it was safe. As he proceeded through the darkened, rock passageways of the Miaoyi Chasm, the echoes of Miao Luo’s enraged shrieks increased Dijun’s confidence that all had gone according to plan.

‘I’ll kill you, Dong Hua-a—aah—aahh—aiiee!!’

Dijun said nothing when he entered the chamber where he had imprisoned Miao Luo for over 30,000 years. He was skilled at baiting an opponent, but never wasted his energy on unnecessry tactics. So, he did not gloat or taunt the manifestation of three poisons that raged at him now. What mattered was observing the effect of the Soul Locking Jade on Miao Luo. With cold detachment, Dijun studied every detail. The bloodstained floor all around Miao Luo’s feet and the corresponding, scarlet trickles on her chin and neck—and even draining from her ears. The horrifyingly black bruises all over her skin. Her bloodshot eyes.

It was as Dijun had anticipated: the more violently that Miao Luo lashed out with her power, the more severe were the backlashes that she suffered. With the Soul Locking Jade infused within her very being itself, Miao Luo’s accumulated power had nowhere to go. It rebounded internally, battering the illusory body that had taken shape so many hundreds of millennia ago.

‘What is this?! What is happening to me?!’ Miao Luo screamed as her skin smoldered and turned a sickly grey in patches.

When Dijun saw the first tendrils of foul, putrid smoke beginning to leak from Miao Luo’s hide, he knew he had to work quickly. Shen Ye had already warned him: as Miao Luo’s strength grew, so did her injury. With two drops of red qi missing, there were tiny gaps in the mystical integrity that bound her together. Her skin was tearing open as the strain of the backlashes became too much.

‘No…no don’t….Dong Hua! Don’t let it…stop this! Dong Hua!’ Miao Luo cried in agitation. That was, until her mouth dissolved, along with her eyes and nose.

Miao Luo, the artificial being who manifested from the confluence of worldly toxins, was losing its functional integrity and returning to its original chaos.

Dijun now worked to prevent this eternal confluence of toxins from ever giving rise to a monster like Miao Luo again.

Known only to Dijun himself was that Miao Luo had only taken shape as a living being because of those who had been tempted to harness the tremendous reservoir of power that had accumulated in the Huiming Realm. What Dijun had created to divert evil energy away from the mortal realms, out of his own compassion for the weak, short-lived beings who would have perished under the weight of their own sins, had become a temptation for ambitious demons and immortals alike. In drawing upon the roiling, primeval miasma of the Huiming Realm, they had inadvertently imprinted their own traits on the lifeless, swirling energy: pride, ambition, lust, and cruelty.

Even as Miao Luo dissolved before his very eyes, Dijun methodically set up a ward that would be sustained by the very energy of the Huiming Realm – and the morbid, haunting remnants of Miao Luo’s own essence. He would still contain the three toxins within the Huiming Realm, but should any ambitious fools in the future seek to harness the Huiming Realm to magnify their own power, they would slip into a dream. Or rather, nightmare might be a better description. In the dream, the trespasser would relive some of the worst of Miao Luo’s tyrannical violence against the realms.

Dijun had developed the idea from Shen Ye’s own, formidable ward in the Fanyin Valley. From Shen Ye, Dijun learned that a world almost indistinguishable from the real one could be created and sustained for at least a century. That had been achieved through the sheer strength of Shen Ye’s will. Dijun would fuel this ward by the endless power of the Huiming Realm itself. There would always be misery, greed, fear, and hate in the world, like the chronic illnesses of the mortals. Just as the mortal physicians described by Xiao Bai would manage these incurable diseases without hope of eliminating them, Dijun would use the Huiming Realm’s own energy to subdue it perpetually.   

He took a final look at the roiling, malevolent energy within the ward, its gloomy darkness punctuated by flashes of red lightning, before phasing himself back to the Fanyin Valley.

Xiao Bai was pacing back and forth in Shen Ye’s garden while Shen Ye himself stood at the entrance gate to his villa, intently surveying the surroundings. Vigilant against any threats to the Biyiniao right to the last.

‘Dijun!’ Xiao Bai blurted out with relief when she saw him. She immediately stopped her pacing and drew near, taking his hand in hers.

At her expectant, hopeful gaze, Dijun’s eyes flashed and he assured her, ‘It worked. I will take you and Shen Ye to see what has become of Miao Luo now. You are among the few I will entrust with this secret.’

The eager gleam in Xiao Bai’s eyes fluttered Dijun’s heart enough that his breath momentarily hitched. The tremor of adoration traveled down his arm and pulsed his fingers gently against her hand. When she squeezed his hand in return and graced him with a shy smile, Dijun felt a fleeting temptation to take her back to Tai Chen Palace instead.

However, there was not only Xiao Bai to consider, even if Dijun were tempted to focus solely on her. It was a new experience for Dijun to look out for the welfare of a being that was, at heart, an extension of himself. Dijun understood well why Shen Ye had indulged himself in so few pleasures; it was Dijun’s own, strict discipline at work. Allowing Shen Ye to see what had become of Miao Luo would strengthen a man who had sacrificed greatly to hold her influence in this valley at bay. It would give him peace. And it would go much better with Shen Ye’s reintegration into Dijun if the Archmage spent the remainder of his life recovering from the many physical and spiritual wounds he had suffered.

‘I would not dare to reject Dijun’s generosity,’ Shen Ye protested humbly as he approached along the paving-stone pathway from the main gate, ‘but would it not be safer to restrict the circle of those who know how you have imprisoned Miao Luo? I have no need to see; I trust Dijun’s word that the evil one is subdued.’

Arching his eyebrows loftily, Dijun laced his fingers through Xiao Bai’s, offered her a brief, affectionate glance, then shook his head at Shen Ye. ‘Your humility does you credit, Shen Ye, but there is a need. This is to balance our accounts. You were left ignorant of the full strategy against Miao Luo. Including you among those who know the plan to manage the Huiming Realm from this point onward makes up for that. How could I present myself as a worthy son-in-law to the Fox Clan, who value the repayment of debts so greatly, if I did not settle this with you?’

Xiao Bai squeezed Dijun’s hand and covered her lips with her free hand to stifle a guffaw, but she was unable to conceal the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. ‘That’s pure hogwash, and you know it,’ she muttered under her breath.

Shen Ye, meanwhile, shifted awkwardly on his feet and glanced away, strictly schooling his features to remain indifferent…but not quickly enough to escape Dijun’s keen perception. At the insinuation of his intent to marry Xiao Bai, Dijun had seen Shen Ye’s gaze flit to her in a brief moment of yearning. Knowing that his shadow adored Xiao Bai as much as he did was useful. Dijun would warn Zhong Lin that, at some point in the next century, he was likely to undergo a period of lovesick foolishness. Zhong Lin was capable of minimizing any consequences that might trouble the dignity of Tai Chen Palace.

‘Dijun, is it your own power sustaining the ward? What would happen if you are sick or injured?’

Xiao Bai’s first question when he had phased the three of them to the underground cavern hardly surprised him. Zhe Yan’s teachings were firmly rooted in her.

She and Shen Ye both studied the tempest of grey clouds and red flashes with fascination, tempered by sharp scrutiny.

‘My own magic provides only the framework for the ward; it requires a negligible amount of my power. The energy from the confluence of toxins themselves is what sustains the ward, because we were able to infuse the Soul Locking Jade throughout them when we poisoned Miao Luo,’ Dijun assured her.

‘Genius,’ Shen Ye murmured, rapt with admiration as he raised his hand and studied the craftsmanship of the ward that Dijun had constructed. ‘A self-sustaining system. But, Dijun, could it ever be vulnerable to interference from without?’

Dijun smiled briefly at the question, so in keeping with Shen Ye’s nature. ‘There is the possibility. It is small, but it exists. So, I have designed the ward so that any who attempt to draw on the power of the Huiming Realm held within it will be caught up in a dream in which they relive what Miao Luo did to the realms.’

‘That’s not a dream, that’s a nightmare,’ Shen Ye stated bluntly. He paled and stiffened at the thought.

‘Any demon or god who would expose the realms to such suffering again for the sake of their own gain should experience this nightmare, in its totality,’ Dijun replied.

Shen Ye drew himself up straight and nodded, locking his eyes on Dijun’s. ‘I will never reveal any of this; I will not allow this to become a temptation for anyone.’

Dijun inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. ‘There are three others I will tell, should you ever need aid when I cannot be reached. The first is Mo Yuan. The second is Zhong Lin. And the third is Zhe Yan. The valley should be peaceful for generations, Shen Ye. You have earned a rest.’

Once all that needed to be said was said about Miao Luo’s fate and the ward of nightmares that Dijun had created, Shen Ye phased himself back to the Fanyin Valley, leaving Dijun free to take Xiao Bai home.

When they alighted together on soft grass amid sweetly scented trees, Xiao Bai looked around in surprise.

‘This is my uncle’s peach orchard,’ she declared, a delicate furrow in her brow prompting him to answer many unspoken questions.

‘Xiao Bai, you helped me subdue the danger from Miao Luo,’ Dijun explained. ‘Now, we are free to take as much time as you need. You have told me that your heart chose me; Zhe Yan has told you that there is no future for me without you in it. If you are ready to go to Lady Nuwa’s with me, then we will go. In my heart, you are already my wife. But I know that it matters to you that we proceed in full sight of your family. That is why we are in your uncle’s peach orchard.’

It fascinated Dijun that Xiao Bai’s face had mimicked a sunset in the short time that it took him to explain himself. Her smooth cheeks had shaded from a faint pink to a deep, flushed red in the span of a few heartbeats.

‘Come to dinner,’ Xiao Bai blurted shakily.

A faint breeze blew through the peach blossoms, wafting a delicate petal onto Xiao Bai’s hair. Dijun nodded and gently brushed the petal away with his fingertips. Then, as he caressed Xiao Bai’s cheek, Dijun finally indulged himself in something he had wanted to do for some time. His hand cupped her chin and slowly tilted her face upward while he descended to meet her. Until now, Dijun had only kissed Xiao Bai’s forehead or hand; he had never before kissed anyone, so he could not be sure that this was how it was done. But Dijun closed his lips over hers and poured into the kiss as much of the passion he felt for Xiao Bai as he dared. Her lips felt soft and warm and welcoming. When she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, Dijun shuddered and slanted his mouth against hers, desire crashing through him with the force of an ocean.

All too soon, Xiao Bai tore her lips away from his and left them both gasping for breath.

‘Be….before my uncle comes looking….’ Xiao Bai stammered breathlessly.

Even the thought of being interrupted by that preening peacock did little to dampen Dijun’s ardor, especially since Xiao Bai’s concern for him bathed his soul with a powerful truth: this was what love should feel like. This was what Si Ming had kept just out of Song Xuanren’s reach.

With great effort, Dijun tempered the flames that raged within him, stepped back, and promised her, ‘I will return tomorrow.’

Chapter Text

Even before sighting purple robes and silver hair that were known throughout the realms, Mi Gu felt the arrival of Dong Hua Dijun deep in his roots. He was a tree spirit, after all, and his connection to magic was far more grounded, literally, than that of most other immortals. And Qingqiu was wilder, more primitive than many other immortal realms. The soil and rock retained the echoes of ancient magic from the very beginning of the realms and it resonated when a being like Dijun was near.

Mi Gu had already been hearing from tree spirits in Zhe Yan’s peach orchard that Dijun had been paying visits there for the two weeks, each time bringing a different gift for Fengjiu Dian Xia. First, a purple, silk sachet containing rare, medicinal herbs. Then a jade hairpin so white, so delicately carved that it might be mistaken for a qilin’s horn. That was followed by still more jade – a bracelet, a pendant, and even a comb. The gifts made Dijun’s intent quite clear, but it still surprised Mi Gu to sense the formidable tremors in the earth and water and air around him that heralded Dijun’s appearance in Qingqiu.

Although, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised.

After all, two days ago, Fengjiu Dianxia had come to stay in her rooms in the Fox Den for the first time in a few decades. She’d spent the entire day yesterday and much of today preparing an array of dishes the likes of which Mi Gu hadn’t seen in a long time. He had been banished from the kitchen and had resorted to cooking the regular meals for the royal family on an outdoor firepit.

Mi Gu still froze for a moment at the sight of the legendary god calmly walking through the tall grasses near the shore of a lake, on his way to the Fox Den. Dijun did not seem to be carrying any gifts, although Mi Gu could see that something weighted down one of his sleeves. Mi Gu hurried forth to greet him.

‘Welcome, Dong Hua Dijun, to Qinqiu,’ Mi Gu said, bowing quickly. He gestured toward the vaulted, stony entrance to the Fox Den and asked, ‘Will Dijun follow me…?’

To Mi Gu’s surprise, Dijun remained rooted in place, withdrew a bamboo scroll from his sleeve, and offered it to him. ‘Please deliver this to Bai Yi and let him know that Dong Hua Dijun would like to meet with him.’

It took a moment for Mi Gu to accept the scroll, which was heavier and wrapped around three times more than an ordinary scroll. But take it he did, and hurried inside the Fox Den to deliver it, marveling at what had just happened. Dong Hua Dijun had not allowed Mi Gu to escort him into the Bai Clan’s court with the dignity due to the former ruler of all the realms. Dijun chose to wait outside like an ordinary petitioner. Mi Gu grinned.

This must be the big day…!

***

Fengjiu sat on a cushion near her Fourth Uncle while her father, mother, grandparents, and Uncle Zhe Yan all sat around the other side of the table scrutinizing the bamboo scroll that Mi Gu had delivered from Dijun. She knew this was all for show to persuade her elders that Dijun respected the family’s traditions and, more importantly, respected her. Although she and Dijun had chosen each other a bit quickly, matters of the heart were important to nine-tailed foxes. Her parents had impressed upon her how important it was to take love seriously, because nine-tailed foxes gave their hearts once in a lifetime.

Dijun is waiting outside like an ordinary suitor, waiting for my family’s invitation to enter…

‘This is nothing like Dijun has ever written before,’ Fengjiu’s grandfather, the Fox King, mused as he read the scroll. ‘I know his writings on marriage. They are formal and deal mainly with the joining together of kingdoms and households.’

‘This reads like some of Dijun’s poetry,’ Fengjiu’s mother remarked. ‘Except that before this, he has written more about spiritual enlightenment or natural beauty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him write about love the way he does in this proposal.’

‘And when did he ever have the chance to learn about love? There has been no news that Dijun ever had a companion,’ Fengjiu’s father pointed out.

Zhe Yan cleared his throat and turned his head away, but Fengjiu caught his brazen smirk. And she wasn’t alone.  Her grandmother, the Fox Queen, scolded, ‘There’s no need to bring that ancient history up.’

With an innocent shrug, Zhe Yan gestured to Fengjiu and said, ‘She already knows.’

Fengjiu’s grandmother shook her head and huffed, ‘Thanks to you.’

Out of deference to Ning Cang, Zhe Yan curbed his smirking, although his eyes still twinkled merrily at Fengjiu. She knew that he would not share any details that were hers to tell, so Fengjiu cleared her throat and explained to her elders, ‘Dijun experienced a love trial in the mortal realm. Si Ming doomed him to a destructive, obsessive love. As a mortal, he also saw virtuous love and yearned for it. It has stayed with him.’

‘And led him to you?’ Fengjiu’s father asked. ‘But there have been so few banquets or occasions where you could have met with him, other than your aunt’s wedding.’

‘Where Dong Hua Dijun amused himself at your expense,’ Bai Zhi grumbled.

‘And you had dates with other men,’ Fengjiu’s father persisted.

‘How do you know she didn’t chase them off?’ Fengjiu’s grandmother pointed out. At her son’s vexed grimace, Ning Cang clucked at Bai Yi as if he were still a child, ‘Oh, come now, any fox worth her tails knows how to get rid of a suitor she doesn’t like.’

‘It’s true that I was just a cure for boredom at first,’ Fengjiu grinned, remembering back to the way Dijun had parried with her a few times after Gu Gu’s wedding. ‘But, then…I took part in Dijun’s mortal trial…’

‘The love trial?!’ Fengjiu’s mother interrupted in alarm. An awkward expression tugged at Bai Zhi’s face and he glanced away, enough so that Fengjiu leaned forward in her cushion and waved her hands, as if to dispel the idea from the air.

‘It’s not what you think! I was not Dijun’s love interest. I was a young warrior-monk who became the love interest of the woman Dijun’s mortal incarnation loved,’ Fengjiu explained.

The Fox King shook his head again, but at least this time, a rueful smile curled his lips and his beard twitched with quiet laughter. ‘Those ridiculous plots of Si Ming’s…’

‘Dijun and I shared a mutual friend in the mortal realm before I died,’ Fengjiu continued, resting her hands on her knees and straightening her posture, as if unconsciously becoming Xiao Jiu again for a moment. Her eyes grew distant and she smiled, even though a dull ache surged in her chest. ‘It was through friendship that Dijun came to understand the truer kind of love.’

At this, Fengjiu’s father smiled and exchanged a fond glance with her mother. Fengjiu’s mother took her father’s hand and squeezed it affectionately, and her grandparents did the same.

‘Fengjiu, you spent all day cooking. Don’t you think it’s time we invited Dijun in to share dinner with us?’ Fengjiu’s grandmother suggested.

Fengjiu hardly needed any encouragement. She rose to her feet quickly and hurried out of the Fox Den to find the one her heart had chosen.

‘What did you write, Dijun?’ Fengjiu asked him as she slipped her hand in hers to lead him inside to be welcomed by her family. ‘They’re skipping the discussion of the marriage contract and going straight to the engagement banquet!’

‘Only the truth. I wrote that I had never contemplated or understood love until you entered my life,’ he answered, his pace steady and unhurried. ‘And that yours is a pure heart, a gift that I could hardly hope to deserve, Xiao Bai, but that has nonetheless taught me what love should be. I acknowledged that you have already been my steadfast partner in the only work remaining to me since I retired from the throne, so it is through your own merits that you have made yourself my Empress.’

Fengjiu beamed at him, a warm glow radiating out from her heart. But she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. ‘Most of that was the truth, Dijun. But the idea that you’re retired is hogwash.’

He paused their walk into the Fox Den and feigned astonishment, taking both her hands in his. ‘We are not even married, and you are already accusing me of lying to you? I am retired from the throne. I did not say I had left behind other responsibilities. But I will forgive this slander if you will do one thing for me.’

‘What is that?’ Fengjiu gazed up at him, her eyes twinkling at the easy playfulness between them.

Slowly, Dijun lowered his forehead to hers and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. ‘Call me Dong Hua. There are few who address me other than by my title. Dong Hua is the name I chose for myself in the beginning. You are my chosen Empress and I am your chosen Consort. I would like it if you call me Dong Hua.’

To Fengjiu’s embarrassment, Dij—Dong Hua’s plea moved her so much that she felt her nine tails fan out behind her, as if she were still a young kit who hadn’t learned how to control herself. She blushed up at her soon-to-be husband, kissed him on the cheek, and agreed, ‘All right, Dong Hua, help me get through dinner without embarrassing myself.’

Fengjiu took a deep breath and concealed her tails, but nearly lost control of them again when Dong Hua drew her into a warm, lingering hug.

‘You are my other half, Xiao Bai,’ he murmured. ‘This is what I had yearned for as a mortal.’

They entered the Fox Den hand-in-hand, each unaware that they were in that moment so besotted with each other that they radiated their sublime infatuation for the entire family to see. Fengjiu scarcely noticed the utter stupefaction on her father’s and grandfather’s faces, to see the exalted, ancient commander of the wars of unification smiling like a lovesick boy. But Fengjiu’s grandmother easily recognized the signs that Fengjiu had well and truly given her heart, and called for Mi Gu and a few maids to begin serving all the dishes that Fengjiu had worked so hard to prepare.

And Zhe Yan merely saw what he had already seen that day in Tai Chen Palace when Dijun had been so desperately weakened: the care and devotion with which his niece and his fellow ancient treated each other in even the simplest things. Their inability to separate from each other, to the point that their joined hands rested atop the table during dinner. Not to mention the way his niece looked up at the sky after Dijun had returned to Heaven Kingdom, promising to return with a bridal carriage within mere days now that he and Fengjiu had secured the approval of her family.

‘But what about the wedding banquet?’ Fengjiu’s mother had asked, stunned at Dijun’s haste.

‘Xiao Bai and I will plan it together in Tai Chen Palace, with your guidance,’ Dijun answered. ‘But there is an auspicious date in three days and we may as well go to Lady Nuwa’s to make things official.’

Zhe Yan knew Dijun well; as soon as Dijun had made his decision, it was already so. He would have taken Fengjiu away immediately after dinner if he’d dared. So Zhe Yan spent an hour after dinner reminding Bai Zhi and Bai Yi that Dijun had always behaved like this, before he and Bai Zhen took her home one, last time.

Chapter Text

How should he say good-bye to one who had become like his own daughter?

Fengjiu would be leaving the Ten Miles’ Peach Orchard to live in the Fox Den for two days, before Dijun took her to Lady Nuwa’s Palace. Zhe Yan had seen this in her future, but this was one of the harder parts of his ability. The future was here and now, and Fengjiu would no longer be brightening this little haven he had created with Zhen Zhen.

Of course, it wasn’t the end.

Zhe Yan smiled and chuckled softly.

How could it be the end? Zhe Yan saw what lay ahead. Fengjiu would turn to her uncle for aid in healing that magnificent hero of a husband of hers when he brought himself to the point of death more than a few times. And Dijun would accept no other physician to attend his Empress through quite a few pregnancies.

Oh, Dong Hua, are you prepared for how thoroughly you and Fengjiu are going to people that big, empty palace of yours?

Zhe Yan chuckled quietly as he continued to help Zhen Zhen and Fengjiu pack her belongings in a simple, wooden chest that Zhe Yan had crafted out of a pine tree that had once bordered his peach orchard. In just a generation or two, there would be immortals who would hardly believe that Dong Hua had once lived a solitary life.

‘Fourth Uncle, this is the most beautiful hairpin I have ever seen!’ Fengjiu marveled.

She studied the elegant, jade fox and phoenix pin that Zhen Zhen had been working on for two hundred years and had just gifted her for her wedding. Zhe Yan could only agree with her. It was his husband’s finest work yet, and his trial of a new technique for carving jade. Zhen Zhen had enchanted the jade with a spell to that the fox’s ears and tail twitched occasionally, while the phoenix preened its feathers. Nothing too dramatic, since the hairpin shouldn’t draw attention away from its wearer, but just enough to prompt curiosity and admiration.

‘When I first started making it for you, I thought only of a design that would always remind you of our family,’ Zhen Zhen remarked, as he took the pin from their niece’s hands and deftly arranged it in her hair. Grinning, he added, ‘Now, though, I think it will serve as a nice challenge to that husband of yours to see if he can do better.’

Fengjiu smiled at that and then flung herself at both of them, hugging them each tightly. Zhe Yan didn’t even bother teasing her about her impulsiveness. She was still very young, after all, and he adored her.

And now it was his turn to give her a parting gift. Just a hint of the future, disguised within a final lesson on healing.

‘Fengjiu, come and sit with me at the stone table out in the orchard,’ Zhe Yan said. ‘Your time as my student is done, so let me see what you have understood about your illustrious invalid.’

‘Uncle…’ Fengjiu rebuked, an affectionate frown wrinkling her chin. ‘Please promise me you won’t goad Dong Hua. At least, not too often.’

Zhe Yan’s eyes twinkled as they walked out to the stone table and seats where he had taught her so much of his art. ‘For your sake, I will make…an effort. Let’s say that I won’t provoke him, but I might occasionally remind him who your family is.’

He nearly laughed out loud as his wonderfully strong-willed niece gave him a disapproving side-eye, yet a lump rose in his throat for a moment. Zhe Yan would miss her fire when she was no longer living in the peach orchard with he and Zhen Zhen.

‘So, you knew already that reintegrating part of Dong Hua’s shadow into his spirit could either be disorienting or smooth, depending on how it is done,’ Zhe Yan began. ‘What more did you come to know in the valley?’

‘I came to know Shen Ye. He is his own person,’ Fengjiu answered readily. Zhe Yan nodded. It was a clear sign that she truly did understand. ‘He is not simply a severed piece of Dong Hua. Nor should his life simply dissolve and be forgotten. He should have a future within Dong Hua. Living as the mortal, Song Xuanren, changed Dong Hua. I knew Song Xuanren’s life had become a full part of Dong Hua, not just a memory. But I didn’t see that in connection with Shen Ye until I met him and saw how much he had sacrificed.’

‘Hmm,’ Zhe Yan agreed. ‘Very good. And you remember my first lesson to you, yes?’

‘All healing is simply about maintaining or restoring balance,’ his niece answered easily.

‘It will not be difficult to knit the sacrifice and suffering into Dong Hua’s spirit. Dong Hua’s long lifetime has been filled with it, and Shen Ye’s portion will blend right in. What Shen Ye has lacked has been peace, quiet, and the chance to contemplate a Universe that is far greater than what he has lived. I may give this old, decrepit husband of yours—’ Zhe Yan grinned at Fengjiu’s peevish scowl ‘—a hard time, but no one appreciates more than I do that Dong Hua has earned every moment of solace he has enjoyed.’

‘He should be able to live out the rest of his years in the Fanyin Valley in peace, now that Miao Luo has been subdued, shouldn’t—I mean, it seems to me…’ Fengjiu caught herself just as she was about to suggest that Zhe Yan look into Shen Ye’s future. Ah, but I already have, Xiao Jiu, and it will make you happy, too.

‘You and Dong Hua did take care of the main threat to peace in the Fanyin Valley,’ Zhe Yan agreed, focusing on the present. ‘The enemy that Shen Ye has fought for his entire life has been transformed. And Shen Ye has the gratitude of all the Biyiniao; indeed, he has had it for some time. Now, he can enjoy it….it is a shame that he is alone.’

Fengjiu nodded, which inadvertently caused the fox’s tails to swish on her hairpin. Zhen Zhen really was talented! With a sigh, Fengjiu rested her chin on her hand and murmured, ‘Shen Ye never met someone who stirred his affection. And he nearly died because of someone’s obsession with him. I don’t know if he’ll ever open his heart to love.’

Zhe Yan drew upon a lifetime of practice to school his features into nonchalance, lest he provoke his clever niece’s curiosity before it was time for her to make the discovery. ‘That may be. But there is one chance for companionship that arises in the life of any Archmage. He’ll need to train a successor, after all,’ Zhe Yan pointed out, keeping his voice neutral. Then, he arched his eyebrows and suggested as innocently as possible, ‘That could be a reason for you and Dong Hua to check in on him, you know. He might need advice on how to teach an apprentice. You’ve seen how I’ve taught you, Xiao Jiu. Why not pass this on to Shen Ye, in turn?’

His niece’s eyes had always been so expressive, such a gateway to that lively mind and strong heart of hers. When he saw the gleam of interest, Zhe Yan knew how thoroughly Fengjiu would see this through. ‘That would be an ideal way for me to heal Shen Ye’s spiritual wounds.

Zhe Yan nodded. ‘You are a healer, Xiao Jiu. Soon to be an empress. It has been fulfilling to teach you.’

Fengjiu’s eyes teared up, and Zhe Yan felt his own eyes growing misty. ‘It has been an honor to be your student, Teacher. And you will always be my uncle.’

‘Of course, silly,’ Zhe Yan huffed at her, tapping his finger on her forehead, which only made her laugh and draw him into a tight embrace.

Oh, why couldn’t she stay just a little longer? Fengjiu really was too good for that Old Stone.

Although, the Old Stone did know how to treat her well.

At the appointed time a few days later, with the family all gathered at the Fox Den and Fengjiu decked out in brilliant red and gold, Dong Hua arrived with a palanquin made of pure starlight and carried by four, mighty attendants, who were none other than the Blue Dragon of the East, the Red Bird of the South, the White Tiger of the West, and the Black Tortoise of the North.* Every inhabitant of Qingqiu, it seemed, down to the dragonflies and crickets, gathered in awe and celebration as the wedding party assembled and Dong Hua, garbed in red robes, led Fengjiu to her seat in the celestial coach. Luan birds circled overhead, and they were joined by every winged creature in Qingqiu – except for Zhe Yan himself.

He had positioned himself at the head of the wedding procession, beside Zhen Zhen, followed by numerous, illustrious officials of Heaven Kingdom. When Dong Hua soared up through the clouds in a magnificent swirl of violet light, Zhe Yan could only follow suit with his own, fiery trail, so that Fengjiu’s arrival in Heaven Kingdom was heralded by ripples of color across the sky the likes of which hadn’t been seen since ancient times.

What warmed Zhe Yan’s heart was that Dong Hua had done this all for Fengjiu. The wedding banquet itself wouldn’t be for another three weeks – and that had been due to the intercession of Qingqiu’s own steward, Mi Gu, who had pleaded for the Bai Clan to insist that Zhong Lin be given more time to prepare. This entire display, itself more glorious than some wedding ceremonies, was just Dong Hua’s expression of joy at being able to bring Fengjiu home with him. It was new, and yet it wasn’t. Zhe Yan had never seen Dong Hua wholeheartedly infatuated like this before, yet this was the same flair for overwhelming the senses that had enabled him to scatter enemies on the battlefield before the fighting even began.

Thankfully, the guards at the main gate of Heaven Kingdom had been forewarned that the bridal carriage’s arrival would be formidable. Zhe Yan saw that their knees trembled only a little at the passage of Dong Hua Dijun, his godly radiance uncloaked and blinding, and an assembly of immortals and legends so awe-inspiring that they could bring an army to its knees, should they wish it. Zhe Yan sighed, smiled, and fanned himself with dignified ease.

Yes, Dong Hua has done adequately for our Fengjiu.

Along the pathway to Lady Nuwa’s palace, where the bridal procession would stop before proceeding to Tai Chen Palace, Zhe Yan spied artists who had hastily positioned themselves in towers or on high walls. Some had canvases, and were magically producing paintings to record every detail of this magnificent occasion. A team of twelve junior sculptors, under supervision of their Master, was frantically carving a block of white jade into a lifelike replica of Fengjiu’s palanquin being carried by the Four Guardians.

‘That’s a new technique,’ Zhen Zhen murmured in admiration, always keen to learn new, magical methods for carving jade. ‘It’s more a burning action than chipping. I’ll try that on my next hairpin.’

Before the stone steps leading up to Lady Nuwa’s vibrant, vermillion-and-gold palace, the entire procession stopped and Fengjiu’s bridal palanquin was lowered to the ground. Dong Hua held her hand as she stepped out and, together, they climbed the steps unaccompanied, for this part of the journey was always made by a couple on their own.

Your happiness will outweigh your sorrow, little fox, Zhe Yan thought as he watched them disappear behind tall, red, wooden doors. Dong Hua will drive you crazy with worry at times, but you and he will shelter each other from the worst that Fate will bring, and your lives will be happy.

‘Ehh?!’ Zhen Zhen scolded gently by his side and raised a silk handkerchief to dab at Zhe Yan’s eyes. Zhe Yan hadn’t even realized that he’d started crying at some point. As Zhen Zhen dried his tears, he asked, ‘Are you here with me now, or in the future, Yan’er?’

Zhe Yan smiled at the young immortal who held his heart, playfully chucked him beneath the chin, and answered, ‘Yes.’

***

‘Just a moment, just…a….moment….ahhhh, yes, here it is.’

Fengjiu watched as Lady Nuwa, the ancient goddess of marriage and creator of all the mortals who Si Ming now watched over, rummaged through a vast, carved wooden chest. She had to lean for over the edge and reach deep inside. When she withdrew the scroll, it was not made of silk and rolled into a golden canister, like a few of the others she had withdrawn and set down. This one was primitive, made of plain bamboo slats stitched together with red, silk thread. The white-haired goddess set the bamboo scroll down on the low writing desk before Dong Hua and Fengjiu, who knelt on cushions awaiting Lady Nuwa’s instructions.

‘Your is one of the older records in my keeping, Dong Hua,’ Lady Nuwa explained, as she unrolled the scroll. With a wave of her hand, an ink stone and brush appeared. Perhaps partial to Dong Hua because he was closer to her own age, the elf-like ancient held the brush out to him first. ‘Go ahead, sign and make your vow.’

Fengjiu watched Dong Hua fluidly write his name in characters so elegant, so effortless, she cringed at how crappy her own would look. But why was she worrying about this? she chided herself inwardly. What mattered was that she and Dong Hua would be married in a moment.

Her eyes focused more intently when she realized that Dong Hua had taken Lady Nuwa’s guidance literally, and was writing out a brief vow. Fengjiu read it:

My life for hers.

A smile curved Fengjiu’s lips. Yes, she could meet him on this one. When Dong Hua passed the brush to her, Fengjiu nodded toward Lady Nuwa, signed her own name beside Dong Hua’s, and wrote:

My life for his.

Lady Nuwa inclined her head and smiled in satisfaction. ‘Honestly, I thought that scroll of yours would stay buried in that chest forever, Dong Hua. I’m glad I was wrong.’

Fengjiu grinned at how much like a proud auntie Lady Nuwa seemed as the ancient goddess’s eyes twinkled with delight. Then, Fengjiu felt Dong Hua take her hand and lace his fingers through hers. Lady Nuwa magically wove a blood-red thread of spiritual energy through their joined hands and a sudden jolt shook Fengjiu as the thread seeped into her very being. For an instant, her lungs filled with the sweetest, freshest breath, as if Fengjiu were just being born. She heard Dong Hua draw in a sharp breath beside her and realized that their lives truly had been joined into something new.

Dong Hua fixed her with a gaze that resonated throughout her soul and asked, ‘Dihou, shall we continue our journey home?’

‘Yes, Dijun,’ Fengjiu answered, his title meaning something much different now to her. She grinned at him playfully and prompted, ‘This has all been magnificent, but for the banquet, can we give poor Zhong Lin and Mi Gu more than three days to prepare?’

‘Of course we can,’ her husband answered slyly. ‘Especially since I plan to keep you all to myself for the next three months.’

Chapter Text

Dijun wondered if a wedding banquet was really necessary. His gaze lingered on Xiao Bai, naked and nestled snugly in his arms, and temptation assaulted his mind and heart and soul with all the might of an avalanche. Could he perhaps find a way to get out of that obligation and just keep his wife to himself for a century or two? Sighing, he brushed another kiss against her forehead and caressed her arms as he recalled their wedding night.

He hadn’t known what to do any more than Xiao Bai had.

To say that their first moments together had been awkward would be an understatement. Dijun winced at how hesitant he had been to undress her when they were alone, because he had grown so used to showing Xiao Bai that he respected her. So, how could he then tear off her clothes like a brute? And once they had undressed each other, they had been so shy with their first touches. It was only when they began laughing together at their inexperience that he and Xiao Bai had relaxed.

From that moment on, Dijun had followed Xiao Bai’s lead. More precisely, he had explored her from head-to-toe and paid careful attention to her responses. Each sigh, each moan, each cry of pleasure; each twitch, each spasm, he savored and committed to memory. It hadn’t always been easy, especially when she was doing the same to him and some of his own responses wiped all rational thought from his mind. Yet their lovemaking had improved throughout the evening, until they had grown quite adept at stirring utter bliss in each other by the morning. At that point, Xiao Bai had succumbed to the need for sleep.

And all Dijun wanted now was to seclude from the world with his enchanting wife and continue their carnal studies. He had developed a new level of impatience for Lian Song as well. The Third Prince professed to love Cheng Yu. If that was so, he was either incompetent or shamefully lackadaisical in his pursuit, for he had allowed thousands of years to pass without achieving the ability to enjoy this wondrous intimacy with the goddess he loved. Dijun concluded that his friend was an idiot, then pushed that thought from his mind as he savored the soft warmth of Xiao Bai’s skin against his.

‘Why….you…don’t sleep?’ Xiao Bai mumbled sleepily. Dijun felt regret for whatever he’d done to wake her.

‘Shhh, sleep awhile longer, Xiao Bai,’ he coaxed her softly, running his hands over her silky, dark hair.

‘You…mmphh…feel like you’re worrying,’ his cherished wife nuzzled face against his chest, and the feel of her warm breath washing over his skin sent a quiver rushing up his spine.

A certain other part of himself stirred to life and, unfortunately, put foolish words into his mouth.

‘Do you think the immortal realms care one way or another if—’ Dijun began, but his question was abruptly halted when Xiao Bai heavily swung her arm, still half asleep, and clamped her hand down over his mouth.

Dijun arched his eyebrows and gazed down at his wife’s face. She still looked for all the world like she was sleeping, yet she spoke very firmly and decisively. ‘There has to be a wedding banquet, Dong Hua. One, my family expects it. Two, you were the Great King of Heaven, so everyone else expects it. Did it never occur to you, my beloved, that the sooner we hold the banquet, the sooner we can enjoy an extended honeymoon, just the two of us?’

Indeed, Dijun had failed to consider that perspective.

Which meant that he and Lian Song were both idiots.

So he went back to cuddling Xiao Bai while she slept.

The wedding banquet did happen on the soonest auspicious date, thanks to Zhong Lin’s tireless planning and the sheer force of will of the Bai Clan’s elders. Dijun cared only about making Xiao Bai happy. So, in the grassy field near the shore of the Holy Jade Sea, he and Xiao Bai performed the traditional rituals, bowing in the direction of Bihai Cangling, then to Hao De Tianjun as the current ruler of Heaven, and – most importantly, in Dijun’s mind – to each other. Together, they prepared and served to her elders a special tea that enhanced feelings of serenity, a blend of leaves that combined his knowledge of tea with Xiao Bai’s expertise in medicine. After the brief ceremony, guests from every kingdom in the realms were seated at tables on clouds that hovered just above the surface of the Holy Jade Sea, drifting slowly among each other so that diners were able to mingle with others at different tables without ever having to get up.

Everyone seemed duly impressed and Xiao Bai’s family was clearly satisfied. In Dijun’s mind, however, all the details blurred together with thousands of other banquets he had attended in his lifetime. Only one thing mattered and made this banquet meaningful: he was with Xiao Bai. In time, he likely would forget the food and wine and table settings, but Dijun would remember forever how beautiful his wife looked, and how happy it made him to hold her hand.

But he was even happier when the entire crowd of people left and Dijun had Xiao Bai all to himself again. He might have mixed a little sleeping powder into the incense he’d prepared for all the tables except for the wedding party’s, for the majority of the guests left at a decent hour rather than lingering through the night….

Zhe Yan did him the courtesy of saying nothing about it, and even smirked with approval at one point as he fanned himself and watched an entire table leave, all yawning…

When the Bai Clan finally departed for Xiwu Palace, where they were all being hosted during their stay in Heaven Kingdom, Dijun withdrew with Xiao Bai to enjoy all of the privacy that Tai Chen Palace afforded.

‘Where would you like me to take you on our honeymoon?’ Dijun asked her a few days later, while they were relaxing together in the cool-water chamber of Tai Chen Palace’s baths, surrounded by jasmine blooms. He poured a gentle stream of water over her neck and shoulders with an iridescent oyster shell.

‘Traveling? Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of anywhere else,’ Xiao Bai admitted, smiling up at him with perfect contentment. ‘Is there somewhere you would like to show me?’

‘Well…I was wondering if you might be interested in returning to the Fanyin Valley,’ Dijun suggested. ‘We could have sixty years undistur—’

‘We can’t. Not unless we want a thousand years of guilt from my family,’ Xiao Bai interrupted, although she didn’t look cross. In fact, she was blushing and grinning giddily. At Dijun’s silent, arched eyebrows, Xiao Bai’s cheeks flushed even deeper and she murmured haltingly, ‘It’s just…at the rate….at the rate we’re going, there will probably be…a kit…in a few years. If my family has to wait sixty years...’

So early in their marriage, Dijun had not even considered this. Yet, Xiao Bai seemed to be worried about the possibility. Should he give this greater consideration?

‘Do you want to delay any children?’ he asked. ‘There are herbs that I can take.’

Truthfully, Dijun was glad for Xiao Bai to take the lead on this. He had never had a family, and after observing thousands of harmonious and discordant families throughout the ages, he had concluded that there was nothing about the timing of children that determined whether a family would be happy or miserable. Dijun realized that the closest he had ever come to having a family was his experience in the mortal realm, as Song Xuanren. Si Ming had seen to it that, as a mortal, Dijun had never managed to have children of his own. It had been one of his many misfortunes. He had been obliged to borrow a son from Ye Qingti.

Ye Qingti. His family had been one of the happiest Dijun had ever known. And their firstborn, Xiao Jiu, had come to them within just a year or two of their marriage…

‘I know those herbs,’ Xiao Bai murmured, still blushing a bit, but less awkwardly. Indeed, there was a hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘Zhe Yan and I have both prescribed them to dozens of patients; men, women, and couples.’

‘Then, do you wish me to take them?’Dijun prompted, offering her the power to make this decision for them.

But Xiao Bai shook her head and smiled. ‘I’m a Bai. Family makes us happy. And we have traditions that allow parents the chance to continue sharing time together as a couple. It’s how I ended up living with my uncles. So, I’m willing to let nature take its course, unless you’re not ready to be a parent yet.’

Dijun grinned and cuddled Xiao Bai more closely against himself in the soothing, limpid pool. ‘I will follow your lead, Xiao Bai. This is something I must learn from you and your family.’

‘Our family,’ Xiao Bai teased.

‘Mm,’ Dijun agreed. ‘Our family.’

***

Fengjiu hadn’t expected the subject of children to come up so soon after their wedding, but at the same time, she kicked herself for not anticipating it. Among the nine-tailed foxes, children were not a disruption at all. The entire family looked after them and they were an excuse for all kinds of fun and celebrations. So, whether children came early or later, it didn’t necessarily change the relationship between a married couple. But she’d been an idiot. She knew that other immortals did not share her family’s communal child-rearing traditions, and she absolutely should have taken into consideration that Dong Hua had no family traditions at all!

The fact that he had said he would follow her lead endeared him to her all the more, but also made her feel guilty. Dong Hua was wise in so many things; she had thoughtlessly forced him to confess his ignorance when she could have used more tact.

In the end, things worked out in ways that she couldn’t have anticipated.

As Fengjiu had predicted, it was scarcely a year and a half into their marriage when her appetite changed wildly, her sleep habits grew chaotic, and Zhe Yan confirmed that she and Dong Hua were on their way to becoming parents. She was as giddy as could be and felt her pregnancy drawing Dong Hua and her even closer together with each other and with her family. Her husband doted on her and followed the changes in her body with fascination. Fengjiu’s mother, aunt, and grandmothers all advised her that, by the second year, the fatigue might make her want to spend more time in her fox form. What this helped her discover was that Dong Hua enjoyed having her curl up for a nap on his lap. He was quite happy to brush her fur with delicate jade combs, too.

Yet, she also experienced some symptoms that didn’t seem like a normal part of pregnancy. It was in the third year that the dreams came to her. Very welcome, yet confusing, dreams.

The first was simply a memory of her time in the mortal realm with Dong Hua and Ye Qingti. Images of them laughing together, riding on horseback across the plains and hills of Chengyu, or just walking in the palace drifted through Fengjiu’s dreams. When Fengjiu awoke from this first dream, she thought little of it, other than that her mind was summoning up happy memories in anticipation of the birth of her first child. But when others followed, even though they were all very innocent and joyful, Fengjiu began to wonder if something more serious were at work. So, one afternoon when she and Dong Hua were drifting lazily in a white skiff on the Holy Jade Sea, she described her recurring dreams and asked him what he thought it meant.

‘It may be a coincidence, but the Universe is not often so random,’ Dong Hua answered after a few moments of silent reflection. ‘What makes more sense is that enough time has passed that Qingti’s soul may be nearing incarnation as an immortal.’

The boat rocked slightly, sending waves rippling out across the otherwise still water, as Fengjiu shifted abruptly and gaped at him. ‘Qingti! Are my dreams….am I distracting him again?’

Fengjiu tensed as she recalled her mistake in the mortal realm, when she had nearly prevented Qingti’s spirit from going onto its next incarnation.

‘Shh…shhh…come here Xiao Bai,’ Dong Hua soothed her, tugging her hand until she settled back in his embrace. He brushed a kiss on her forehead and gently stroked his hand up and down her back. ‘There is little chance of that, Xiao Bai. Your dreams are simply dreams. But you may be sensing Qingti’s progression through his incarnations now.’

‘Dong Hua, can you tell if he’ll be emerging from the Jade Pool soon?’ Fengjiu asked eagerly.

Dong Hua squinted for an instant, as if searching a horizon, but then he shook his head. ‘I cannot, although you could ask the Lord of the Underworld if you really want to know. He has a closer relationship with the ascending immortals.’

Fengjiu sighed in disappointment, but snuggled against Dong Hua and let it go. ‘No. No, I don’t need to know. I spent too much time studying with Zhe Yan to obsess about knowing the future. It doesn’t help and you still have to wait just as long.’

‘True,’ Dong Hua agreed, nuzzling the top of her head while he squeezed her gently in his arms. ‘But welcoming our child into the world will give you something to do, won’t it?’

Fengjiu grinned and poked her husband in the chest. Looking into his perfect, steady eyes, the ones that never failed to let her know how much he loved her, she murmured, ‘I haven’t forgotten.’

Dong Hua seized her finger as she poked him and held it captive until she gave him a kiss. They continued drifting on the Holy Jade Sea for the rest of the day, delighting in simply being together and leaving the world to look after itself.

As it turned out, it would be their last quiet, private day together for a while, for the next day, ear-popping contractions let Fengjiu know that her kit had decided to make its appearance in the world. Dong Hua sent Zhong Lin immediately to Qingqiu to let the family know, but even before Zhong Lin could even leave Tai Chen Palace, Zhe Yan strode through main gate and began giving orders to the maids.  

‘Zhen Zhen is already on his way to the Fox Den, he’ll bring everyone with him,’ Fengjiu’s uncle assured her and Dong Hua. ‘Now, shall we get you settled somewhere comfortable, Xiao Huli?’

Dong Hua phased all three of them to the private quarters that she shared with her husband. Nothing at all had been prepared for the baby’s arrival because Fengjiu had expected to deliver in the Fox Den a few months later. But, with just a wave of Dong Hua’s hand, all of the comforts that Fengjiu’s mother and grandmothers had been preparing for her suddenly appeared in the room: blankets, a vast bath tub for soaking, soothing incense, flowers…

Zhe Yan felt her wrist and then rested a hand on her huge, straining belly. ‘Oh, this one will be energetic, all right. It looks like you’ll have your hands full,’ he teased affectionately.

‘Xiao Bai helped me deal with Miao Luo,’ Dong Hua countered loftily. ‘Together, surely, she and I are capable of handling a child, even an energetic one.’

‘Hmm,’ Zhe Yan responded rather cryptically, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Dong Hua’s eyes narrowed at him.

A vise seemed to squeeze at Fengjiu’s midsection as another wave of powerful contractions gripped her. She scowled at both Dong Hua and Zhe Yan and snarled, ‘If you two quarrel while I’m going through this, I will bite your hands off!’

Her husband and uncle, duly chastened, behaved themselves for the duration of the labor.

Of course, they would have had little choice, because Fengjiu’s fierce aunt, Bai Qian, barged into Tai Chen Palace and dared to order Dong Hua to sit quietly by the bedside and do little other than hold Fengjiu’s hand. Fengjiu’s family also arrived swiftly from Qingqiu, about half an hour before her beautiful, silver kit was born, and her mother and grandmothers subtly took over. Most of this was a blur for Fengjiu, and all she would really recall of the birth afterwards was the sight of her sweet, little kit’s eyes when he first blinked up at her.

They were exactly like Dong Hua’s.

She had shifted to her fox form, and her kit was born in his primal, nine-tailed fox form as well, but Fengjiu could still see the resemblance. And he was practically radiant, just like his father. Fengjiu nuzzled his tiny face and groomed him until he was soft and fluffy, then curled up around him and fell asleep.

It turned out that both Zhe Yan and Dong Hua were right.

Gun Gun was an energetic kit. Fengjiu’s elders all attested that he was even more energetic, more curious, more prone to getting into mischief than Fengjiu had been. And yet, she and Dong Hua found infinite ways to channel his energy into learning about the world he lived in and cultivating his strengths. Indeed, Fengjiu marveled at how easily Dong Hua adapted to being a father – but she laughed when he told her what his strategy was.

‘It has been ages since I have commanded any troops, or encountered any immortals in Heaven Kingdom resilient enough to survive my training. Our son is the first with the stamina to manage even my most basic routines.’

When Fengjiu watched Dong Hua with Gun Gun in his earliest years, she saw how well they worked together, how much they adored and admired each other. And it dawned on her, by the time Gun Gun reached his 50^th birthday, that after a million years, Dong Hua had finally encountered another immortal like him. This truth warmed her heart.

Yet, she also noticed at times that Gun Gun seemed restless and lonely.

She encouraged him to play with his older cousin, Ah-Li, but Gu Gu’s son was several thousand years older than Gun Gun, so at times it was difficult for them find common ground. This was why Fengjiu suggested that she and Dong Hua take him to the Fanyin Valley with them when it was time for the valley to reopen. Gun Gun would have a new place to explore, and perhaps some of the Biyiniao children would be able to play with him.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the discovery that Shen Ye had taken on an apprentice, without even needing her encouragement. Nor was she prepared for who the lively, good-natured youth was.

When she, Dong Hua, and Gun Gun presented themselves at Shen Ye’s villa, the Archmage seemed happier and more at peace than she remembered him from their previous time in Fanyin Valley. Then, he summoned his new apprentice, and the young Biyiniao, who couldn’t be more than 60 or 70 years old, bore a startlingly familiar face.

‘This is my apprentice, Qin Li,’ Shen Ye explained. ‘Like me, he was born with uncommonly strong cultivation, so his parents brought him to me twenty years ago. He has become like my own son.’

But Fengjiu could hardly focus on Shen Ye’s words. Staring with delight at a face she had not since since a distant lifetime, she murmured:

‘Qingti!’

Chapter Text

When Qin Li’s parents had first brought him to Shen Ye, no longer a child yet barely a youth, Shen Ye’s heart had stirred with a feeling of kinship for only the second time in his life. The first time had been, of course, when he had encountered Dong Hua Dijun so many years ago. Shen Ye had understood why he felt a bond with Dong Hua Dijun once it was confirmed that he was Dijun’s shadow. But Qin Li had no connection with Shen Ye. He was just an unusually gifted, eager youth from a family that had produced palace guards for the Biyiniao royal Xiangli family for generations. Then, Shen Ye began to test the boy’s abilities and decided he understood why Qin Li had made such an impression on him.

Qin Li had innate cultivation far more powerful than a typical Biyiniao’s.

It made Shen Ye suspect that, maybe, Qin Li was also the shadow of a powerful Heaven Immortal. Perhaps Mo Yuan? There was something deeply martial about the lad.

It had taken very little time for Shen Ye to agree to accept Qin Li as his apprentice and complete all of the formalities for this to be permitted. When Shen Ye and Qin Li’s parents appeared in the royal court, Queen Junuo was likewise quick to approve. In her eyes, Shen Ye saw the guilt and remorse that had been there years ago when she had faced the horrifying consequences of her effort to force him to respond to her infatuation. She was ready to give Shen Ye anything he asked for and demanded only a cursory examination of Qin Li’s abilities. Obtaining Heaven Lord’s permission had been similarly easy. Although the Fanyin Valley had been sealed off again and would not reopen for another ten years, Dong Hua Dijun had periodically created a small opening with his space-folding magic to communicate with him. Through it, small items could be passed, and Fengjiu Dihou never lost an opportunity to send Shen Ye gifts of elixirs, ingredients for remedies, and special cakes of hers that tasted divine. These regular communications enabled Shen Ye to send his request to appoint Qin Li as his successor to Heaven Lord via Tai Chen Palace.

It had also been how Shen Ye had learned that Dijun and Dihou had a son, and then a daughter, and then twin sons, and then three more daughters. Shen Ye found the news a little daunting, since he had imagined returning to Dijun and how it would be to be married to Fengjiu Dihou. He had not imagined returning to Dijun and being connected instantly to a family with seven children. Or more?

And yet, when Shen Ye thought of teaching Qin Li and preparing him to assume the role of Archmage, the idea of a family began to seem less daunting.

With Dijun’s advocacy, Heaven Lord had granted his approval of Qin Li as the next Archmage of the Biyiniao without question. And Qin Li had taken to his studies like a duck to water. His innate power was nowhere near as great as Shen Ye’s had been when Lord Xize had taken him under his wing. But Qin Li was diligent, persistent in his studies, and resilient in the face of struggles to master new spells. If Shen Ye told him to complete ten drills of a magical exercise, Qin Li would do twenty. Qin Li’s skills grew quickly because of this, and in the youth’s drive and willingness to push himself, Shen Ye saw himself.

Qin Li eagerly listened to Shen Ye’s lessons about the Fanyin Valley’s history as well, and the threats from which the Archmage must defend it. He had already heard from his parents the many stories of the battles Shen Ye had fought against the evil Miao Luo.

‘Shifu, I have wanted to serve you ever since my mother told me of how you sacrificed your arm rather than leave our people at the demon’s mercy,’ Qin Li had told him during one of their history lessons. With a fervor that seemed unusual for someone so young, Qin Li asserted, ‘I could not be idle when you had nearly died for all of us. Those who willingly face death for their fellow beings are the most noble among us.’

The boy’s strong convictions on this matter further persuaded Shen Ye that he might be Mo Yuan’s shadow, or perhaps the shadow of one of Mo Yuan’s Kunlun disciples.

Shen Ye was even more certain of this when Fengjiu Dihou recognized him immediately. And yet, he discovered that the truth was far different from what he had expected.

***

Fengjiu stood with Dong Hua at the edge of the lake by Shen Ye’s village while her husband tested Qingti’s – or, Qin Li, as he was known in this incarnation – abilities. It was hard to contain her joy at discovering that her friend from the mortal realm was here, now, with Shen Ye, providing him with the companionship that he had sorely lacked in his earlier life. Fengjiu’s dreams now made more sense to her. Qingti had clearly progressed through his mortal incarnations and had achieved immortality among the Biyiniao. But, would he ever attain the level of those immortals who emerged from the Jade Pool?

‘Very promising,’ Dong Hua praised the young Qin Li, who looked barely ten years older than their son Gun Gun.

‘Shifu has taught me so much,’ Qin Li replied. ‘I owe him everything.’

‘You are a good student,’ Shen Ye countered.

The affection between them was obvious to Fengjiu. As she studied their interactions, Shen Ye and Qin Li reminded her of Song Xuanren and Ye Qingti so much that a lump formed in her throat. The weary, stony face that Shen Ye had worn when Fengjiu and Dong Hua had first met him in his ward had lost much of its joylessness and worry. Shen Ye now seemed far more at peace, as if a missing part of himself had been restored. It made Fengjiu smile. He was healing.

And Qin Li had so much of Qingti in him.

When Gun Gun grew restless and demanded her attention, she left the others to go and playfully chase her son around in Shen Ye’s garden. After racing around trees and rocks for a while, Gun Gun asked her to help him practice sword fighting, a skill for which he had a natural talent. Fengjiu gladly obliged and summoned her Taozhu sword. She and Gun Gun stood side-by-side and went through a set of fluid strokes, cuts, and parries. It was one of the drills her father had taught her when she was just a little older than Gun Gun.

Their moves caught the attention of Qin Li, though, for it was also the very same drill that Xiao Jiu had taught Qingti that day in the forest in the mortal realm. Fengjiu had chosen it to test whether any of Qingti’s memories were with his current incarnation. To her delight, Qin Li watched her and Gun Gun with fascination and a glimmer of recognition. Enough so, that Fengjiu paused the exercises for a moment and asked, ‘Qin Li, would you like to join us and learn? I am sure your Shifu has been teaching you some martial arts in addition to magic.’

Qin Li nodded eagerly, summoned his own sword, and came forward, bowing to Fengjiu.

‘Thank you, your Majesty.’

Fengjiu had to bite her lip to keep herself from inviting him to call her Xiao Jiu. She couldn’t interfere so greatly in this incarnation of his. So, she merely smiled and introduced him to her energetic son, who was very curious about the slightly older boy joining them. ‘This is my son, Gun Gun. Gun Gun, this is Qin Li, the apprentice of Archmage Shen Ye, with whom your father and I destroyed Miao Luo.’

The two boys smiled at one another. Then, Fengjiu resumed the exercise and they both fell in line and followed her movements. Qin Li was a little less fluid than Gun Gun, but he learned quickly.

Far more quickly than Qingti had the first time. Somewhere in his soul, Qin Li must remember…

She, Gun Gun, and Qin Li practiced this sequence of sword strokes for the better part of an hour before Fengjiu ended the exercise and let the boys run off to play together. A quiet joy radiated through her as she watched the latest incarnation of her friend laughing so boisterously with her son. Although Qin Li was his own person, his laughter and relish for living were so very much like Qingti.

Fengjiu rejoined Dong Hua and Shen Ye, where her husband and his shadow were enjoying a freshly brewed pot of tea. She refraind from sharing her thoughts about Qin Li, but it turned out that Dong Hua had already confided in Shen Ye about their time together in the mortal realm, and Qin Li’s connection to Qingti.

‘I had no idea that Biyiniao could be incarnated from mortals. Your experience in the mortal realm together...was it destined?’ Shen Ye asked as they all relaxed together around the low tea table.

‘No,’ Fengjiu laughed. ‘It was my uncle. Only Zhe Yan would dare!’

‘This is one time that I am grateful that he meddled,’ Dong Hua said, as he offered her some toasted lotus seeds.

‘And...the two of you met Qin Li’s mortal incarnation in that life?’ Shen Ye asked, his eyes warm with affection. ‘What was he like?’

‘Back then, we knew him as a grown man,’ Fengjiu began, finding it easy to reminisce about Qingti. ‘He was one of the most loyal generals serving Dong Hua’s mortal incarnation, Emperor Song Xuanren. He was a good strategist. Smart. Always energetic. And a good friend...’

Fengjiu felt her eyes misting slightly, so she was glad when Dong Hua continued for her.

‘Ye Qingti was a loyal friend and very generous,’ her husband remembered. ‘He valued family, yet at a crucial moment, he gave up one of his sons so that my mortal incarnation would not be left childless and despairing.’

‘Indeed, that is what Qin Li has been like in the time I have known him,’ Shen Ye agreed. ‘He has cared for me almost like a father. It has been almost painful to be treated with such devotion, for it has shown me how lonely my earlier life was. Yet, Qin Li has been a gift. I can now look back on my life and see more than hardship.’

A subtle shift in the wind stirred the lightest branches of nearby pine trees and treated Fengjiu to their refreshing, clean scent. She smiled as she watched Shen Ye sip his tea, free of the grim tension that had defined him when she and Dong Hua had known him years ago. He had healed. Fengjiu hadn’t played as great a role in that as she had hoped; the Universe had decided, instead, to bring Qingti to him. What mattered, though, was that Shen Ye was far more whole now. And that was good for him, and also for Dong Hua.

She leaned her head against Dong Hua’s shoulder and sighed.

***

Shen Ye’s steps were heavier and slower than they had been when the woodland path he walked now had bridged his sunlit ward with the perpetual winter he had imposed on the Fanyin Valley. Yet, what of it? Walking slowly was still walking. And he was going to visit the pythons and sit within their glade by the pimpon tree. They were among his oldest friends and allies and understood the value of stillness and quiet.

It had been nearly one hundred and fifty years since Miao Luo had been defeated, and sixty years since Qin Li had grown to manhood and been appointed Archmage. Shen Ye smiled. Qin Li was what an Archmage should be. His ability to wield magic rivaled Shen Ye’s own. More importantly, Qin Li had found love among their people and had married one of the Biyiniao princesses, Jielu. He was connected to the community where Shen Ye had lived in self-imposed exile. A savior, but an aloof savior.

‘Hello, old friends,’ Shen Ye greeted the giant snakes when they emerged from their hollows upon his arrival in the glade.

They hissed and gently swayed in welcome. Very slowly, taking care not to provoke any of his recurring aches and pains, Shen Ye sat down on a stone at the center of the glade. One of the pythons encircled his seat, resting its head atop its coils and gazing at him.

‘You’ve nested two eggs?’ Shen Ye replied to the unspoken, telepathic news just shared with him. ‘My congratulations to you. The family is growing and will need more room soon than just this glade.’

Another telepathic comment directed Shen Ye’s gaze to the nearly ripe pimpon fruit hanging from a single, sinewy vine at the heart of its tree. ‘So it is. It will be fully red just in time for the competition next month. I will let Qin Li know. He will...judge...this year’s....contenders...’

A slight dizziness left Shen Ye feeling lightheaded. He sat still for a moment to regain his senses, but things grew even stranger. His chest ached. A grey veil seemed to blur his vision, so Shen Ye blinked his eyes several times. He was aware of the pythons hovering around him in agitation. Shen Ye tried to assure them that he was all right and just needed a little rest, but he found that his lips were unusually clumsy and refused to form words. And then his surroundings dissolved in a glimmer of violet sparks. Shen Ye experienced such...such...perfect lightness. He felt himself drifting as gently as a leaf on a spring breeze. The familiar voices of the pythons urged him:

Don’t go.

But their words were like a fading whisper.

I’m still here, he tried to convey to them, hopeful that they could perceive his thoughts.

They did not answer.

And then he was dizzy again. Although his vision was blurry, everything was light around him, the purest, most serene light imaginable. It was a gentle light, unlike the stark whiteness of the Fanyin Valley in winter. Shen Ye drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, instinctively focusing his mind to restore his equilibrium. Except...he wasn’t alone. He realized that he had not been the one to draw the calming breath. It was someone else.

And his body felt vigorous and healthy again – stronger than he ever remembered being.  He had two arms again.What sorcery was this? His...their...eyes snapped open with such certainty, in spite of the fact that his surroundings were utterly unfamiliar.

He was seated by a lotus pond with a fishing rod balanced on his knee. Blossoming plum trees graced an elegant garden flanked by pristine, white marble halls in a palace that seemed to go on forever. Shen Ye’s disorientation gradually faded as he recognized at last where he was – and, more importantly, who he was.

So, that was dying.

Dijun continued his steady, regulated breathing while his shadow wove itself...no, himself...back into Dijun’s spirit. Once the process was complete, Shen Ye would become one of Dijun’s memories. But Dijun had been contemplating this for some time now; it did not feel right to let nature take its course just yet. With a few gestures, Dijun initiated a spell that he had worked on over the past decade. He brought his fingertip to his forehead and winced at the brief flare of power that inflicted a slight wound on his spirit.

It would heal eventually.

But while the spiritual tear remained, Shen Ye would preserve some sense of himself.

I will slowly become you, Shen Ye’s thoughts stirred in Dijun’s mind.

‘You’re awake!’

Dijun turned to see Xiao Bai approaching with a plate of cakes that she had just made.

It was a familiar ritual for them in the afternoons, when their children were occupied by studying or playing or sparring, but Dijun felt a sharp, sudden rise in his temperature. Xiao Bai was always beautiful to him, always cherished, yet her effect on him was like seeing the sun for the first time. Her radiance set his heart hammering against his chest.

Dijun loved Xiao Bai with every fiber of his being, with every pulse of blood through his veins. What Shen Ye’s return gave him was the chance to experience falling in love with her all over again.

‘I was not asleep. I have been very busy,’ Dijun countered with a playful lilt to his voice.

Xiao Bai picked up on it at once. As she sat beside him and fed him a cake, still flirting with him after all these years by placing the delicate pastry right between his lips, his beloved wife scrutinized him with lovely, keen eyes and asked, ‘What is it, then? Have you been tied up in a spiritual battle with a new threat to the realms? Communing with the Western Buddha?’

Shen Ye could only gaze in adoration at Fengjiu Dihou, trembling with elation that he was now, as part of Dijun, married to this breathtakingly beautiful and clever goddess. It was fortunate that Dijun was largely in control, for Shen Ye was so captivated by her that he could not even think of how to respond. With ease, Dijun took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles. Such a simple gesture nearly unraveled Shen Ye. He could feel his...Dijun’s...heart battering like a caged, wild beast.

And the cake...the taste was alluring...it flooded him/them with euphoria.

‘Shen Ye has returned,’ was all that Dijun said.

Xiao Bai’s eyes glowed with joy. Yes...she is Xiao Bai to us...

She caressed his cheek and leaned up to kiss his eyes and then his nose and lastly his mouth.

‘You’re both healed then,’ Xiao Bai murmured.

‘Hm,’ Dijun nodded. ‘He and I are healing. The wound is nearly closed and we are adjusting to each other.’

‘That’s good. I worried it would be difficult,’ Xiao Bai sighed. She proceeded to pepper them with questions.

Had it been painful at all? Could Dijun remember all of Shen Ye’s life? Could he feel any change in his spiritual strength?

With each question, asked with such an endearing urgency and curiousity, Shen Ye’s mirth swelled until he nearly prompted Dijun’s laughter. As it was, the two of them couldn’t suppress their delighted smile. Blended as he was into Dijun’s vast, seemingly limitless life, Shen Ye now possessed so many memories of Xiao Bai. He...Dijun...had first admired Xiao Bai for her cleverness and determination. Something about fiend berries?

Together, Shen Ye and Dijun answered her questions, and Shen Ye was grateful to Dijun for indulging him in a chance to get to know Xiao Bai in this way. So many shared memories with her swirled in Shen Ye’s consciousness, and he knew he had lived them all with Xiao Bai. Dijun’s life was his own, now, as truly as his time in the Fanyin Valley. They were both his lives...

Several silver-haired children, nearly identical in age, perhaps separated by five or ten years at most, eventually sought Dijun and Xiao Bai out where they were lounging beside the lotus pond. Joyfully, Shen Ye realized that he knew them all...

Gun Gun. Xiulan. Weilei and Weiming. Yixing. Huili. Xiao Lian.

Just the sight of each of them summoned up instant visions of the day each of his children was born. And memories of teaching them and playing with them...and, yes, fetching Gun Gun out of more than a few life-threatening predicaments he’d gotten himself into. Yet, Shen Ye felt how much Dijun loved this one, mischievous son all the more because of his fearlessness.

Shen Ye luxuriated in an afternoon among this family that was now his, savoring every tender, mundane moment with them. But when the children had been put to bed for the evening, their absence and the comparative quiet drew his thoughts to Qin Li and the Fanyin Valley.

‘Xiao Bai,’ Dijun said as the two of them walked hand-in-hand away from the room that little Yixing, Huili, and Xiao Lian shared with each other. ‘We should make a brief visit to the Fanyin Valley. It is open now, and the children will be fine with Zhong Lin here.’

‘Oh...Qin Li! Of course!’ Xiao Bai’s eyes flashed with understanding. ‘Did Shen Ye ever tell him?’

Shen Ye was feeling more and more at home as part of Dijun. He shook his head. ‘I did not explain my nature to Qin Li. Nor his own. But, if it is not forbidden, now I would like to tell him that I have not fully gone.’

He and Xiao Bai descended to the Fanyin Valley, Dijun guiding them through the slight opening in the barrier with ease.

The passage of time in the Fanyin Valley was much the same as it was in Heaven Kingdom, so Shen Ye realized that he had only died that morning.

When they arrived at the villa where Qin Li lived with Princess Jielu, Shen Ye saw that the entire household was already in mourning. No lanterns were lit; only a few, tiny candles provided dim lighting in the courtyard. Xiao Bai’s hand squeezed his reassuringly as they walked toward the main hall. The servants who stood outside the doors recognized Dijun and Xiao Bai, so their attempts to safeguard Qin Li’s privacy and turn away visitors were halting at best.

‘Tell your Master that his shifu is well,’ Dijun instructed them.

The two, young Biyiniao exchanged wary glances, before one of them disappeared behind the closed doors. When he returned several moments later, he still looked uncertain, but ushered Dijun and Xiao Bai inside.

Already, Qin Li had set up a shrine for Shen Ye and there were indentations in a cushion where he must have been kneeling before it.

‘Dong Hua Dijun?’ Qin Li murmured, grief hanging over him like a shroud.

Dijun regarded him serenely and remained silent for a moment. Then, he answered, ‘And Shen Ye. Qin Li, there is something that Shen Ye wanted you to know...’

Chapter Text

It was no small thing to rise into Heaven Kingdom.

When Ye Qingti, and he knew he was Ye Qingti, broke through the surface of the swirling waters of the Jade Pool, he could feel every one of his past lives buoying him up. The suffering, the loss, the grief, the heartache...it was burdensome enough to drag anyone down and bury them. But it was exactly why he was here. Qingti understood. The mud of existence buried some, yet nurtured others to grow and climb and emerge into the light. And so he was here.

There were others who had emerged with them. At the command of the Lord of the Underworld, they were all to proceed to the bridge to Heaven Kingdom, where their mortal dust would be washed away.

‘And with it, the weight of your past lives,’ His Highness Xie Guchou explained. ‘Those memories will fade and you will take your place among the gods.’

Ye Qingti began to follow the three others ahead of him, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Lord Xie Guchou himself stood there, sober-faced and arrayed in green robes.

‘By order of Dong Hua Dijun, I am to cleanse you myself and bring you to Qing Yun Hall,’ the powerful ruler of this realm informed him.

‘Why?’ Qingti asked. But Lord Xie Guchou merely lifted his eyebrows enigmatically and did not answer.

Instead, with his own hands, Lord Xie Guchou showered a glimmering, iridescent dew on Qingti, who felt the grime of mortality dissolve and wash away. Memories of so many lifetimes departed, clearing Qingti’s mind. Or, rather, most of those old, painful memories vanished. Two lifetimes remained and were freed of their power to haunt him or drag him back into the endless churn of mortal obsessions. Somehow, Lord Xie Guchou had purified his lives as the mortal Ye Qingti and the minor immortal Qin Li.

Now that he could focus more clearly on these two experiences, Qingti – for this is how he thought of himself – recalled clearly from his life as Qin Li that he knew Dong Hua Dijun. Or rather, while he had met Dong Hua Dijun a few times, he knew the legendary Ancient through his shadow, Shen Ye. Shen Ye, who had been Qin Li’s Shifu and the Archmage to the Biyiniao who would be as revered among them as Dong Hua Dijun was among the other realms.

Some time later, Qingti found himself in a radiant, golden hall in Heaven Kingdom, where Lord Xie Guchou directed him to take his place with the other newly ascended immortals. Qingti knelt and waited for whatever was to happen next. Very little time passed before the arrival of Dong Hua Dijun was announced and Qingti bowed with his peers. They all kept their heads lowered and their eyes on the floor beneath them while Dong Hua Dijun addressed them.

His voice...something about it reminded Qingti of other memories, beside those he had of Shen Ye...

One by one, the new immortals beside him were assigned their ranks and duties in Heaven Kingdom or some other immortal realm. To the Heavenly scribes went one. To the Heavenly apothecary went another. To a place called Xiwu Palace went a third. And then it was Qingti’s turn. As had been permitted to all the others, Qingti finally looked up. And then it struck him; he knew where else he had heard this voice!

The silver-haired god who sat high above, shining even more brilliantly than his gilded throne, was Qingti’s former Emperor from the mortal realms, Song Xuanren!

The shock of recognition was so great that Qingti gasped loudly enough to feel ashamed of being so unruly in this holy place.

‘You are an immortal who cultivated through many mortal lives and even a lesser immortal life,’ pronounced Dong Hua Dijun, looking and sounding like a grander, more regal version of Song Xuanren. ‘Zhong Lin, Steward of Tai Chen Palace, has many more occupants to serve than he once did. He can use assistance. Report to Zhong Lin to learn all you need to know for your new role as Captain of the Bodyguards for the Imperial Children of Tai Chen Palace.’

Ye Qingti felt such tremendous joy that he struggled to rein in an impulse to rush up the long staircase and embrace Dijun like an old friend. He knew that doing such a thing would only lead to a punishment; Heaven Kingdom had its rules, and Dijun was not Song Xuanren. But Dijun had honored him with the most favorable rank for a new immortal imaginable—Dijun had entrusted Ye Qingti with his own children! And it had been by Dijun’s express command that Qingti had preserved his memories of the two lives in which he had shared a close connection with Dijun’s mortal incarnation and shadow. It made Qingti hope that there was much of Song Xuanren and Shen Ye still alive in him. Qingti nearly wept with gratitude knowing that he would spend eternity serving in the household of someone with whom he had developed such a meaningful bond.

And Qingti wondered about Dijun’s son, Gun Gun. In his youth as Qin Li, he had played with Gun Gun briefly. How old was Gun Gun now?

‘Ye Jiangjun*, it is good that you have arrived in Heaven Kingdom,’ a tall, stately immortal garbed in simple, grey robes suddenly appeared before him, his approach so quiet and fluid that Qingti admired his discipline. Qingti quickly bowed while the immortal introduced himself. ‘I am Zhong Lin, Steward of Tai Chen Palace, and Dijun has been awaiting you for some time. You are much needed for this position and we must begin your training at once. Please follow me to Tai Chen Palace.’

‘Please, Lord Zhong Lin, my mortal military rank should not matter here. I am now your subordinate,’ Qingti urged carefully, feeling awkward that his superior had used such an honorific title.

‘Yes, I know,’ Zhong Lin assured him with an untroubled smile and a sly gleam in his eyes. ‘Nevertheless, Dijun has insisted on this for the sake of the children. They are well-disciplined and respectful for the most part, but the eldest, Gun Gun, is...a bit of a handful. Dijun wants them to know from the beginning that you have been a military commander.’

Such praise made Qingti blush and he attempted to demure, ‘Well, but only in the mortal realm...’

Zhong Lin cleared his throat and chuckled, ‘Dijun’s precise words were: It wouldn’t hurt for Gun Gun to know that Qingti has killed people.’

Qingti’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘But Gun Gun seemed so well-behaved in the Fanyin Valley! Surely, Dijun’s own son cannot have become a miscreant?’

They were now passing through a magnificent gate. The two guards stationed on either side of the entry bowed deeply to both Zhong Lin and Qingti. Zhong Lin shook his head and offered another reassuring smile.

‘Gun Gun is an exemplary son. He has inherited his father’s courage and dedication to the realms, as well as strong martial spirit from his mother. She, in fact, is at this moment drilling the children in their martial exercises. But Gun Gun is a little too like his father. He was injured recently because he took it upon himself to deal singlehandedly with a sea monster that had been troubling the Northern Sea. Gun Gun is capable and selfless – and needs a General to keep him from being too foolish and impulsive in his efforts to follow in his father’s footsteps.’   

Now, Qingti felt even more-greatly honored. Dijun had cause to worry for the safety of his heir, and was relying on Qingti to see to it that his energetic son reached adulthood.

But Qingti had little time to reflect on any of this, for a final surprise awaited him and stunned him so fully that he was left speechless with wonder.

Zhong Lin guided him to the open, grassy field where the children were practicing swordcraft under the watchful eye of their mother, Fengjiu Dihou, whom Qingti had encountered in the Fanyin Valley during his life as Qin Li. Except that she was not dressed in her usual, elegant purple robes and her hair was not styled artfully to frame a face that defined feminine beauty. This was not Gun Gun’s mother as Qin Li had seen her. There, dressed in the simple, white robes of a monk, with hair twisted up in a plain topknot, was the one person Qingti cherished more than his own life...

...his brother-in-arms...

‘Xiao Jiu....?’ Qingti breathed hoarsely, rooted in place as if he were dreaming.

It was Fengjiu Dihou, and yet it was also Xiao Jiu!

Tears welled up in Qingti’s eyes. He was spared from embarrassing himself at his first meeting with the children when Fengjiu Dihou prompted them, ‘Are you forgetting what I taught you about how to greet Ye Jiangjun* properly?’

The children, all beyond the age of early childhood but none quite old enough to be out of adolescence, bowed in perfect unison. Their voices rang out a respectful greeting with greater discipline than a seasoned regiment might have achieved in the mortal realm. Knowing that it was important to make a good first impression, Qingti blinked back his tears and acknowledged their bow with his own, strong, proud gesture.

‘Now go with Zhong Lin and have lunch. Your father and I have things to discuss with Ye Jiangjun*,’ Fengjiu Dihou told the children.

Qingti recognized Gun Gun, limping and with his arm in a sling, who glanced over at Qingti and offered him a hearty smile. What made Qingti’s heart clench almost painfully in his chest, though, was Fengjiu Dihou’s easy grin, so much like Xiao Jiu’s, as she hurried over to greet him.

‘Xiao Jiu...!!’ Qingti nearly bawled, unable to contain the powerful emotions any longer. His cheeks were wet with the tears he could not hold back.

‘Qingti!!’ she greeted him, losing all propriety and rushing forward to grip his forearms as he and Xiao Jiu had always done in the mortal realm. ‘Welcome home, my brother!’

In the distance, Qingti saw Dong Hua Dijun approaching, so he was careful not to hug his old and dear friend. Without needing to be told, Qingti understood that the ties between the three of them could never be what they had been in the mortal realm.

But his joy was complete and his gratitude was overflowing.

Fate had smiled on Ye Qingti and granted him an eternity that could not be any more perfect.

Chapter Text

Epilogue – Some Years Later

‘I still think Gun Gun is a little young for his Bingcang Ceremony. What is Xiao Jiu thinking?’ Zhen Zhen grumbled beside Zhe Yan as they walked along the river toward the Fox Den.

‘Fourteen thousand years old,’ Zhe Yan chuckled. ‘I think our niece has argued with her son until she was blue in the face, but in the end, she listened to that husband of hers.’

‘How did Dong Hua convince her?’ Zhen Zhen asked.

‘He pointed out that if Gun Gun succeeds, it will relieve Ye Qingti from having to watch after that headstrong son of theirs, and Gun Gun will have to assume responsibility for a region in Qingqiu,’ Zhe Yan pointed out. ‘In that case, the boy will be answering to your father, who has a few tricks for handling difficult juniors. Don’t forget how he bullied me into persuading Mo Yuan to accept your sister as a Kunlun disciple.’

Zhen Zhen sighed, whereupon his mood seemed to shift in favor of optimism. ‘Qingti has never regretted having such a challenging youth to keep in line. He’s almost as proud of Gun Gun as if the boy were his own. Do you think Gun Gun will actually succeed?’

With a hearty laugh, Zhe Yan seized his husband around the waist and drew him into an intimate embrace. ‘Zhen Zhen, are you asking me to divine the future for one of my family?’

His husband playfully kissed him on the nose and countered, ‘You did for Fengjiu, didn’t you?’

‘You know that vision came to me unbidden, once it had been fixed for all eternity because of Dong Hua’s resolute nature,’ Zhe Yan insisted. ‘Come, let’s—’

The Ancient Phoenix was momentarily struck silent. Had Zhen Zhen tempted fate, that Zhe Yan could feel the surge of a powerful vision about to grip him?

‘Yan’er?!’ Zhen Zhen’s voice rose with alarm, but to Zhe Yan, it was muffled by the whirlwind of a certain fate. One concerning himself.

Zhe Yan’s eyes glowed coal-red.

Oh. It is good that Gun Gun is precocious. Dong Hua will need the extra help...

‘Yan’er! Yan’er! What’s wrong?’ Zhen Zhen was shouting at him when Zhe Yan’s vision finally cleared.

Zhe Yan only smiled at him. He knew his appearance must have been frightening, but this had been a unique vision, the likes of which he had never had before.

‘Nothing. In fact, something is about to be made right after a long time,’ Zhe Yan explained, taking Zhen Zhen’s hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze. ‘I had a vision about myself, that is all. My first ever. At the banquet after Gun Gun’s Bigcang, I’m going to sit next to a very drunken Green Demon Lord who will share some gossip...’

The two of them reached the Fox Den, where they saw Fengjiu’s twin sons, Weilei and Weiming, being instructed by their grandfather Bai Yi, and their great-grandfather Bai Zhi, in how to welcome guests of different realms to the Bingcang. Although they were just a century or so younger than Gun Gun, they were being prepared by the Fox Clan to inherit one of the thrones of Qingqiu in a region they would rule over as co-monarchs. Several of their sisters were scampering around in the clearing outside the Fox Den, playing happily while Dong Hua and Fengjiu reclined together beneath a sturdy oak tree. Ye Qingti, as always, had posted himself in a spot where he could watch over as many of the children as possible.

‘I have something to discuss with Xiao Jiu and Dong Hua,’ Zhe Yan said to his husband.

‘Then I’m coming with you,’ Zhen Zhen insisted, holding his hand possessively. ‘Something happened to you back there and you’re certainly not going to tell our niece and Dong Hua Dijun without telling me.’

‘Of course,’ Zhe Yan agreed, squeezing Zhen Zhen’s hand in return.

When they joined the Universe’s most-exalted couple, Dong Hua unsurprisingly looked annoyed, while Fengjiu greeted her uncles with a warm smile. Zhe Yan smirked. Dong Hua had doted on Fengjiu even more once the fragment of his shadow had been restored to him. Although that had been thousands of years ago, and Dong Hua’s shadow had by now been fully, seemlessly reintegrated, Zhe Yan’s fellow Ancient had never lost the added reverence for Fengjiu. Zhe Yan approved.

‘You’re here in plenty of time,’ Fengjiu greeted them, beaming warmly at her two uncles. ‘Gun Gun is meditating inside the Fox Den, otherwise I’d call him out to see you before the Bingcang.’

Zhe Yan chuckled to maintain the pleasant, easygoing mood. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to see him at the banquet afterward.’

Yet, he could already see Dong Hua eyeing him with concern. His fellow Ancient was one of the rare immortals who would be able to sense that Zhe Yan had recently engaged with his power of foresight. So, Zhe Yan got straight to the point before Dong Hua had to prompt him.

‘However, about the banquet....I....will make a bit of a spectacle. Dong Hua, you...and possibly Gun Gun...will need to shield the living things in the nearby area.’

‘Four li?’ Dong Hua asked. Zhe Yan nodded.

‘Wait, what are you talking about?’ Fengjiu demanded, sitting up at attention now, her brow furrowed with concern. ‘Why four li? What kind of spectacle?’

‘Was this the vision you had, Yan’er?’ Zhen Zhen asked sharply, the worry evident in his voice.

Zhe Yan nodded. ‘Xiao Jiu,’ he explained gently, hoping she would be able to forgive him for the danger he was going to put everyone in. ‘I have never before seen my own actions in the future. But a vision came to me of a certain event that will lead me to take on my primal form and wield my power against someone. Your husband may need to intercede with the demons to prevent a war from breaking out.’

Dong Hua was nodding, already anticipating precisely what Zhe Yan had suggested. But Fengjiu and Zhen Zhen both asked about the possibility that Zhe Yan could choose not to take this course of action, now that he was aware of it. Patiently, Zhe Yan shook his head.

‘Things work differently for me. The closest I can come to explaining it to you is to say that, for me, it has already happened. Such a vision is as much a memory as it is a glimpse of the future.’

‘Tell me now, uncle,’ Fengjiu said sternly, using a resolute, unforgiving tone that only a goddess who had married someone like Dong Hua could hope to be capable of. ‘Will the children be harmed? Will anyone here be harmed?’

‘None of our family, and no one who does not deserve it,’ Zhe Yan assured her. ‘When the time is right, I will give you the first opportunity to deliver justice.’

‘Justice?’ Dong Hua stiffened, his eyes narrowing with interest. ‘What does this have to do with Xiao Bai?’

But it was Zhen Zhen whose insights pounced on the correct deduction. ‘You’ve found the owner of that demon blade.’

No more needed to be said, Zhe Yan knew. They were all familiar with the demon blade that had wounded Fengjiu in the mortal realm.

Gun Gun’s Bingcang Ceremony surprised everyone save Dong Hua and Zhe Yan: that little rascal actually managed to defeat his great-grandfather’s formations, albeit after a tough, hard-fought battle that slogged on longer than any previous Bingcang. Many guests said that it had been like watching a real melee on the battlefield. In the end, Gun Gun stood, bruised and a bit disheveled, yet bearing the great honor of being the youngest-ever member of the Bai Clan to succeed in their Bingcang Ceremony.

His family congratulated him with enthusiasm and pride. Fengjiu nearly hugged the breath right out of him, while Gun Gun’s siblings bombarded him with questions, all keen to learn from their elder brother so that they could succeed when their turn came. But the most-touching displays came, quietly, from Dong Hua and Ye Qingti.

Dong Hua rested his hand on Gun Gun’s shoulder, eyes gleaming, and acknowledged, ‘I could not have done better.’

And Ye Qingti, when things had quieted down and the thousands of guests from all the realms were enjoying Qingqiu’s legendary hospitality at the banquet, sat down beside Gun Gun for a few moments, gave him a hearty pat on the back and said with a grin, ‘You have no more need of a bodyguard, Gun Gun. You have proven yourself.’

Gun Gun’s reply, which Zhe Yan overheard from his nearby seat, brought a gentle smile to the Ancient phoenix’s face.

‘I could still use a big brother, though, Qingti Ge*.’

Zhe Yan sighed. This was such a joyous family celebration. There was plenty of laughter and feasting, and everywhere around him, guests were marveling at Gun Gun’s feats during his duels against dozens and even hundreds of opponents on the Bingcang field. Zhe Yan hated to be the one to disrupt this convivial atmosphere, but vengeance for one’s family members was also a Bai tradiition.

So, at the right moment, he sauntered over toward some of the demon tables, where there happened to be an open seat next to the Lord of the Green Demons, Yan Chiwu – who was exceptionally drunk.

‘He looks...so...ridclious...ridsicloo...rididic...stupid!’ Yan Chiwu was saying to his fellow Green Demons while he gestured clumsily with his wine cup in the vague direction of the Black Demon table.

‘Oh, you don’t say,’ Zhe Yan remarked lightly, pouring more wine into the Green Demon Lord’s cup from the pitcher he’d carried along with him. ‘Who is this, and why does he look so foolish?’

Yan Chiwu belched and nodded his addled head in thanks for the refill on his wine.

‘Neeeeeeeeeeeeeee Chu-yin. Th-that long cloak he wears...not a demon’s tunic. Hideszz...(hic)...za fact he lossiz knI-I-Ifffffe!’

‘Lost his knife, you say? How could such a thing happen? Can’t demons simply conjure new ones?’ Zhe Yan prompted, even though he knew full well where this was going.

By now, Yan Chiwu was practically comatose. Zhe Yan ventured a guess that this Demon Lord must have drunk five times his weight in various liquors by now. However, one of his companions leaned in with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes and gossipped, ‘Eh! You gods might not have heard, but the rumors among demons are that Black Demon Lord Nie Chuyin can’t conjure a new knife because of the prohibition.’

Zhe Yan lifted his eyebrows and rubbed his chin, feigning innocence. ‘The prohibition? Ohhhh...’ here, he shook his finger as if he’d just had an epiphany. ‘Do you mean the protective spell that Dong Hua Dijun cast over the mortal realms while he was still the Great King of Heaven, binding the power of any immortal to create a single, new weapon should they ever use an immortal weapon to harm or attempt to harm mortals?’

The Green Demon bagua* and several of his fellows nodded their heads and muttered one after another:

‘Why else would that preening phony hide the fact that he has no knife?’

‘Everyone knows he was skulking around serving the Ancient Demon Queen, Miao Luo...’

‘Thought he’d rise over the rest of us by being her toady...’

Zhe Yan’s eyes were already churning with volcanic fire. When he rose from the table, his godly form had doubled in height, to the sudden alarm of the Green Demons and guests at other nearby tables. A hush fell over them.

‘NIE CHUYIN, LORD OF THE BLACK DEMONS...!’

So piercing was Zhe Yan’s transformed voice as it echoed through the night that every bird that had been sleeping soundly in its nest took wing and flew away in haste. A terrified frenzy of flapping wings filled the sky, as did the echoes of birds sounding the alarm at the emergence of their devastating monarch.

Of course, this display was really a courtesy for Dong Hua, to give him a cue to safeguard the innocent. The silver-haired, stone god was already on his feet, though, casting a powerful shield spell that instantly expanded to cover everywhere within a four li* radius. Everywhere, that is, except over Nie Chuyin. Dong Hua had returned Zhe Yan’s courtesy with one of his own, and left the Black Demon Lord entirely exposed.

Which made it easy for Zhe Yan, when he transformed into his massive, flaming Phoenix form, to seize the cowering Nie Chuyin in his talon and soar high above the ground with his prey.

Zhe Yan hovered above the festive gathering, his fiery body lighting up the sky like the sun, his flapping wings dispersing the gentle, white clouds with the force of a cyclone, and thundered, ‘NIE CHUYIN...DID YOU BESTOW YOUR DEMON KNIFE ON A MORTAL, WHO USED IT TO STAB MY NIECE THROUGH THE HEART?’

‘N-n-never!’ Nie Chuyin stammered, his face already red and blistering from the heat. After a cry of pain, he added. ‘I swear it!’

In the blink of an eye, Zhe Yan exhaled a breath of chaos at Nie Chuyin, who coughed and choked as it flooded his throat.

‘SWEAR IT AGAIN, NIE CHUYIN!’ Zhe Yan’s screeching, resonant voice left the Black Demon lord cringing and whimpering in delirious fear. ‘THE FIRE OF CHAOS IS IN YOU NOW. IF YOU LIE, THE TRUTH WILL BURN ITS WAY OUT THROUGH YOUR CHEST.’

‘I swea—aaaaaiieeeee!!!’ Nie Chuyin began, but abruptly began writhing in agony while his face, throat, and chest glowed orange. Zhe Yan’s power was indeed devastating; it made Nie Chuyin his own tormentor. So long as the Black Demon Lord lied, he would burn himself from the inside out. Only by confessing the truth could he hope to live.

The Black Demon Lord shrieked and jerked painfully in the grip of Zhe Yan’s steely talon, refusing to confess for several more moments, during which the sight of his glowing body terrified the all immortals below save the Bai Clan. Finally, though, Nie Chuyin’s self-preservation won out, and he cried, ‘I did it! It’s as you said!!’

Slowly, Zhe Yan began drifting down to the ground, his Phoenix form shimmering back to his usual, elegant, godly form, but with a smoldering Nie Chuyin firmly in his grip. The entire banquet was silent, save for a few, frightened whispers, as Zhe Yan dragged Nie Chuyin over to the table where Fengjiu sat with her family. Dong Hua had sat down beside her and was sipping a cup of tea, as calm and disinterested as if nothing had happened.

Zhe Yan threw Nie Chuyin to his knees, whereupon the Black Demon Lord collapsed, shivering and coughing out clouds of thick, acrid smoke. ‘Xiao Jiu, I’ve found the culprit whose demon blade was used to stab you all those years ago. What would you like to do with him?’ Zhe Yan asked.

‘Hmm, it’s definitely my right to avenge this,’ Fengjiu mused, a sly, very, very foxy gleam in her eyes. ‘Especially since it would have done even worse than killing my friend Qingti if I hadn’t taken the blade for him...hmmm.’

That clever, quick-witted niece of his rested her chin in her hand and tapped her cheek with a finger, playing coy to perfection. Zhe Yan adored her.

After a moment, she poured herself a cup of tea and offered a plate of cakes to Dong Hua, who dutifully took one, ignoring Nie Chuyin and the sea of astonished, terrified immortals who waited in suspense. Fengjiu sighed dramatically. ‘I can’t be bothered to trouble myself with the likes of him. What a fawning coward, to have tried to be Miao Luo’s lackey. But I have a very talented son, who has already proven how capable he is today. Gun Gun, dear, would you like to manage the Black Demon Lord’s punishment for me? It could be your very first court trial in Heaven Kingdom.’

‘Not to mention his first war and treaty negotiation,’ Dong Hua added, unconcerned.

The Black Demons present were already grumbling and muttering threats against Qingqiu, to see their ruler so humiliated at the banquet. Zhe Yan half wondered if the entire clan would eventually drive itself to extinction with its utter stupidity and bravado, but he hardly cared to look into that future. Instead, he watched with delight as Gun Gun rose beside his mother and gratefully – eagerly – accepted her “gift.”

The trial, when it came a few weeks later, was a tour de force of young Gun Gun’s masterful knowledge of modern and ancient law, so much so that Heavenly scholars immediately committed it to the record of trials that must be studied by all jurists. Nie Chuyin was locked up in Heaven Lord’s Demon Arrest Tower and, to spite his well-known vanity, condemned to live there in the form of a hideous, crab-like monster.

The humiliations so greatly wounded the pride of the Black Demons that they briefly, foolishly, declared war on Qingqiu, crossing its borders and setting fire to its beautiful fields. Of course, that was a grave mistake. Dong Hua, as the Bai Clan’s son-in-law, ultimately had to agree that Gun Gun would not command the defense himself – the Fox King was far too adamant that the right of armed response was his. But Gun Gun nonetheless was allowed to command a legion of Qingqiu’s troops. And between the two of them, Bai Zhi and Gun Gun reduced the Black Demons to begging for mercy within a week.

So, the long peace that Dong Hua had set in place during his time on the throne was broken, but only briefly.

Gun Gun was indeed permitted to assist his great grandfather in the treaty negotiations.

Zhe Yan, who had already commanded all winged creatures to shun the Black Demon lands (leaving that realm overrun with nasty insects), made just one suggestion.

‘There are a few cliffs in the Black Demon Realm that border a chasm in the Red Demon Realm. That would be a nice thank you gift for your mother.’

‘Great Uncle Zhe Yan, why is that?’ Gun Gun asked as the two of them stood over the map spread out on the kitchen table in the Fox Den.

‘Because, you chip off a very ancient rock, those cliffs are practically choked with fiend berries. Chasing after fiend berries changed your mother’s life,’ Zhe Yan chuckled.

Oh, had it ever.

THE END | 劇終