When the site was immaculate, my mother brought out the offerings of fruit and cakes that she had prepared herself, heaped onto porcelain plates. I lit the incense sticks and passed three to her, their tips crimson with muted flame. Holding them before us, we knelt before the grave and bowed thrice. A wife and daughter, mourning our greatest loss. After the final bow, I pushed the incense sticks firmly into the small brass censer. Thin trails of fragrant smoke drifted into the sky.
I touched her hand, rousing her from her daze. “Mother, when you walk in the forest at night, what do you think about?” I had longed to ask this so many times before.
She closed her eyes, a dreamlike smile on her lips. “You, as a child. Your father. Our life together. How I wish he were with us, that he had not been left behind.” She bent her head then, broken whispers falling from her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder . . . what if the physicians were wrong? What if I had not drunk the elixir? We would have lived all these years together, in the world below. My hair would be gray now, but we would have been happy.”
Her grip tightened around mine. “As I ascended to the skies, I turned around once to see him by the window—his hand outstretched, such anguish upon his face. He had returned too late. Some nights I torment myself, wondering how he felt as he watched me fly away. Did he understand why I did it? Did he feel betrayed? Did he . . . hate me? Those nights, I hate myself, too.”
She stared ahead, her throat working before she continued. “In that moment when I held the elixir, all I could think of was you and me, and how much I wanted us to live. When I drank it, I chose my husband’s death before mine. I chose a life without him. I chose—us.” Her voice throbbed with sudden emotion. “I will never be free of my sorrow. And yet, I would do it again, even knowing all which came after. Because it meant I had you.”
Tears fell from her like a scattering of rain. I cursed myself for my thoughtless question. For asking it, despite knowing it would grieve her. But we could not keep hiding and burying our hurt, especially from those we loved. I had learned that through the pain lay forgiveness, growth, and the eventual healing of our wounds. It struck me then, perhaps my mother and I were more similar than I had imagined. We had both seized the opportunities which came our way, we had both chosen to live.
Slowly, her fingers slipped from my grasp like she had forgotten my presence. Her gaze fixed on the gleaming characters of my father’s name on the headstone, her lips moving to mouth them in silence. His legacy and achievements carved into immutable stone. Forever ingrained in the memory of the world he had saved, for as long as there were books to read and songs to sing. He would never be forgotten. But it was an empty solace for those who loved him.
Rising to my feet, I joined Liwei by the bank of the river. We stood in silence, watching the water glistening in the sunlight as the breeze toyed with our hair. The air in the mortal world was filled with a myriad of scents; blossoming flowers, decaying leaves, the earthy river water thrumming with life.
He turned to me then. “I asked Princess Fengmei to release me from our betrothal.”
I stared at him in disbelief, unsure of what to say. “Why? When?” I finally asked.
He shot me a rueful smile. “Need you ask why? After you left, I visited Princess Fengmei. I told her the truth, what I should have told her long before. She deserved more than what I had to offer: a heart that would never be hers. She was most understanding. And she asked me to tell you, she hoped we would find happiness together. I think she knew since the day you rescued her.”
I recalled her clear gaze when it had fallen upon our Sky Drop Tassels, when she realized they were a matched pair. I did not wish to hurt her . . . but oh, I could not deny the joy blossoming through me now.
“What about the alliance?”
“The Phoenix Kingdom reaffirmed its support for the Celestial Kingdom. While the tie will not be as strong as one bound through marriage, they will remain our friend and ally. Both the queen and she remain grateful for our aid.”
He took my hand, pressing it against his chest—where his heart pounded as loudly as my own. His eyes shone with unbridled emotion. As his other palm cupped the curve of my cheek, I leaned unconsciously against him, drawn to his remembered warmth. “My heart is yours; it has always been yours,” he said. “You don’t have to answer me now. I know you need time to be with your mother and to think things through. I was wrong before; I did not fight hard enough for us then. But I will never fail you again.” He spoke the last words as solemnly as a vow.