“I haven’t told you what else I did. Their wounds won’t heal for months; every bruise aching, the blood seeping from their cuts. They won’t easily forget tonight—what they tried to do and what I did to them. I don’t think they’ll be able to look at another girl again, much less try to attack one.”
Wenzhi raised his brows. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
He pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between us, his hands reaching out to slide around my waist. My pulse quickened as I lifted my face to his, anticipation flaring across my skin. His eyes blazed with unfathomable emotion as he bent his head, pressing his lips to mine. Light sparked through my mind like a scattering of stars. For a moment we stood there, utterly still, our bodies molded together. Then his lips parted mine, his mouth urgent and seeking, his breath sliding in warm and sweet. Heat flashed through me—burning, molten bright—racing through my veins, setting me alight. His palm swept up the arch of my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled my head gently back. Cool lips glided to the curve of my neck, trailing a scorching path. I was afire. Undone. All thought fled my mind as I clutched him closer, pressing against him until the pounding of his heart echoed against my own.
When his hands fell away, I could not help the sigh that slid from my throat. I wrapped my arms across my chest, small comfort to the emptiness that gaped within. Our breaths came harsh in the sudden silence which fell over us.
“I wasn’t following you to stalk you. I wanted to show you something,” he told me.
We walked until we reached the bank of a nearby river. It was crowded with people who were lighting lanterns and releasing them into the water. Unlike the ones of silk in the village, these were made of colored waxed paper that had been artfully folded and shaped into lotuses. A candle glowed from the center of each flower, luminous in the dark.
“I thought the Water Lantern Festival might interest you,” he said.
The faces of the villagers were solemn and grave, a few weeping openly. Sadness clung to the air like winter’s chill.
“What are they doing?” I wondered.
“Praying for guidance from their departed ancestors. Honoring and remembering their loved ones who have passed. The lanterns are also meant to guide wandering spirits back to their realm.” From his flowing sleeve he drew out a small one, offering it to me.
I looked up at him. “What is this for?”
“A dragon is no small matter. Perhaps you should ask for guidance from your own ancestors.”
I stared at him, a tenderness unfurling in my chest. With this, he acknowledged my mortal roots and my place in this world, too. It was then I realized just how much he cared for me. And I, for him.
I took the lantern and lit its candle, crouching down to release it into the river. It bobbed unsteadily for a moment, before righting itself and floating away. I did not ask for guidance—who might I ask? I did not know whether my father was still in this world or the next. I did not even know the names of my ancestors. But I hoped wherever they were, they would see the lantern I had lit in their honor and know they were remembered.
Beneath the dark sky, we stood unspeaking. The river shone with the light of hundreds of lanterns, a stream of living fire which flowed with the current toward an unknown horizon.
30
The sun had faded to a muted orb of crimson light. In the dwindling glow, the waters of the Changjiang glittered as it wound like a fiery serpent across the emerald valley, stretching far beyond where our eyes could see.
I squinted, scanning our surroundings for where the Long Dragon, the most powerful of the dragons, was said to be imprisoned. Liwei pointed out a mountain of blue-gray rock, its peak shrouded in fog. Fields of yellow flowers bloomed at the base. Against the darkening sky, a pale light radiated from the mountain—so faint, it could not be seen by mortal eyes.
My fingers untied the cord of my pouch, pulling out the Divine Iron Seal. The metal was no longer cold, but pulsing with heat. My heart thudded as I lifted it toward the towering peak. Would it crumble to dust—the dragon soaring into the sky, grateful to be freed from its prison?
Yet nothing happened. The valley remained still with only the crickets chirping in their nightly serenade.
“How does this work?” I asked Liwei.
He took the seal, inspecting its markings before passing it back to me. “It’s a key. We just need to find the lock.”
I stared at the enormous mountain, wondering how long it might take to search it. “Would this count as a ‘dire’ need?” I ventured.