Longlin folded his hands behind his back and took a few strides ahead before speaking.
“Legend says that after Nüwa shaped humans from clay in her own image, people worked themselves to the bone just to stay fed. There was no time for play, no time for joy. Life grew thin and colorless, and slowly the spirits that clung to those clay figures began to fade. They were on the verge of losing their souls and becoming nothing but empty bones.”
“When Nüwa saw this, she could not bear it. Her pity for the children she had made drove her to the Miaoguye Mountains, where she gathered the dew that formed on the peaks and turned it into a fine wine, and she gifted it to mankind. With that wine came a steadier soul—people gained breadth of feeling, appetites, desires, and life became richer for them.”
“Think about it,” he went on. “Nüwa made so many people, and yet a few drops of dew-turned-wine could stabilize their souls. What’s a single damaged soul compared to that? Even other scars would be healed with it.”
As he spoke, I remembered the thing Gu Yuan had forced down my throat—bitter, spicy, with an acrid sting that made my eyes water. Could that have been the dew-wine from Miaoguye? If so, why would he—if he meant to kill me—waste such precious stuff to keep me alive? What on earth was he up to?
The more I thought, the fouler my head felt. Gu Yuan’s motives were becoming a maze I couldn’t map. The thought made me anxious, unsettled.
“Wait. Lanlan, you’re hiding something from me.” Longlin stopped and turned, his voice sharp with a new suspicion.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” I did my best to keep my gaze steady, to show no crack in my composure. The method to save Gu Yuan with my blood—that had been Longlin’s idea alone, and he hadn’t discovered it. I didn’t want more people to know; the more who knew, the more likely Gu Yuan would find out.
Longlin stared into my eyes for a long beat before letting his gaze drop. “Not bad. You really tried to pull one over on me.”
So he’d been testing me. Little schemer.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“To where?” I asked, curious.
“You wanted to find out what Gu Yuan is doing, didn’t you? I’ll take you to look.”
Before I could protest, one of his arms slipped around my waist. He became a streak of gold and dissolved into the shadow of the cave.
He held me like that—close, too close—and I squirmed against it. “You know I’m not some unwed girl anymore, and I’m married. This isn’t appropriate,” I protested, trying to pull his hand away.
Longlin laughed at my expression. His eyes were soft, like someone smiling at a private joke. “I already know your engagement with Gu Yuan is over. Didn’t you know?”
“No—we didn’t break it.” The words felt like a raw thing in my mouth, as if someone had just torn away the last scrap of dignity I’d been keeping.
“Gu Yuan took the soul-mark he left in you. Didn’t he tell you? Or did he just walk away all on his own?” Longlin sounded bizarrely pleased to pry. Even after I’d smoothed things out he kept digging.
“I won’t say,” I snapped. “Let go. How dare you—what would Manyue think?”
“If I let go, you’d fall. You told me Manyue approached me for a reason—you said it yourself and I believe you.” His voice softened; he was teasing, but there was a seriousness under it. Maybe he’d been in some quarrel with Manyue himself.
“All right, then—just hold my shoulder instead.”
I bent down and tried to pry his arm from my waist.
“Fine…” he murmured.
He actually let go. For a terrifying second I felt nothing under my feet, weight gone, stomach dropping like a rock. My face drained of color; my heart leapt into my throat. After Gu Yuan nearly did me in, would Longlin kill me by sheer clumsiness?
Just as panic was about to take me, Longlin blinked into being again and grabbed my waist. “I told you—if I let go, you’d die.”
A northerly wind tore through us. The fall and the wind together cut through even the thickest fabric; cold hit me to the bone. I hugged myself hard, teeth chattering, my thoughts clouding with a tired floatiness.
He realized he’d gone too far and quickly wrapped his arms around me from behind. Unlike Gu Yuan’s almost otherworldly cold, his chest was warm and steady. The heat at my back spread through me; my color came back and the tremor in my limbs eased.
When my mind cleared enough to take in where we were, we were standing before a red-gated courtyard—a place of crimson walls and carved eaves that looked almost noble. Longlin’s brow knit with concern.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Do I look all right?” I muttered, still calming my breath. I forced myself down from his hold only after I confirmed my feet were on solid ground.
He tried—and failed—to hide a grin. “Okay, I was wrong. Won’t do it again.”
“Will there be a next time?” I glared.
“No. No next time. Just this once.” He smiled that disarming smile of his, and I could only sigh.
I turned toward the courtyard. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
With a casual flick across my face, Longlin summoned back the veil that had once hidden me and then let it vanish again. “I’ll change your looks. Like this, not even Gu Yuan will recognize you.”
With one arm in the crook of mine he vaulted up the red wall and we slipped into the courtyard.
Oddly, though it was a clear winter day outside, the courtyard was a blizzard. Snow blew in thick sheets as if the sky itself had been ripped open. The wind howled, and a lone azure bird, blown off course, plunged into the grounds and froze mid-flight. In moments it was buried under snow, already dead. The sight gave me a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.
“What kind of place is this?” I asked, shivering for reasons beyond temperature.
“No idea,” Longlin admitted. He didn’t sound pleased with the answer. “We weren’t brought here by our own feet. The two lackeys who led us—they came here before we did.”
“Why would they come?” I demanded.
“I told you—I don’t know. If I knew, why would we need to investigate?” He seemed slightly exasperated that I expected him to have all the answers.
I said nothing. He leaned close, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “See how it’s bright outside and yet inside there’s mist and snow? That’s to hide people’s traces.”
“What traces? Demons? Evil qi?” I asked.
“Neither,” he said with certainty. “Not demon, not fiend. It’s the presence of immortals—immortal qi. That’s what they’re concealing.”