Qiping wandered through the winter, bothered by neither hunger nor cold. Her feet did not tire, but she still preferred to travel by road if possible. Though her skin did not break, she grew tired of tripping on roots and dirtying her clothes. She did not mind the white clothes she was buried in, save for how easily they dirtied with dust and mud.
The few travelers she chanced upon were rightfully scared of her. They often scattered upon seeing a woman in thin white mourning clothes who did not shiver in the snow, mistaking her for a snow spirit or a malevolent ghost. And perhaps she was a ghost, despite her physical body. Having left the Luo household, she no longer had any connection with the mortal world.
Qiping bore Tangyou’s immortality the same way a child bored a fine gift they held no desire for: silently and without question. She discovered that her skin could still be broken, though she bled slowly and healed even slower. The latter she could surmise as the wound in her shoulder stitched itself back together and she regained use of her right arm, though it forever felt like heavy, like a part of her was made of stone.
In the height of summer, where the world was gold, crimson and green, she found Lady Liuying’s apothecary shop. With the snake demon she stayed, shorter than she’d imagined. Despite her poise, Liuying was a woman of strong emotions. Though her voice was soft, she often spoke of violence. Not against Bixian, however, but against the crane’s master.
“What makes your plan different from Xingxi’s?” Qiping asked, her former friend’s name choking on her tongue. At least she could say it. She could not utter the name of the woman whom she thought of as mother for the happiest years of her life. Even the word ‘mother’ felt like poison on her lips.
“I am far more patient,” Liuying said. “I also know not to kill a horse instead of its master.”
The two of them were grinding dried herbs, and the rhythm of the pestle against the stone mortar was like water flowing through a riverbed, on its way to the sea along a forgotten stretch of coast.
“She hated being thought of as the Qilin Sage’s mount.”
“All our tragedy could have been avoided if not for that damned sage,” Liuying muttered as she gathered the powdered herbs onto a dried banana leaf, which she folded into a square and tied with a thin piece of thread. “And his sniveling obsequiousness towards Heaven’s laws. But for him I’d be there with my husband, watching my daughter grow.”
Qiping nodded and let Liuying simmer in her quiet rage. She did not mention the Knife of Sublimation which Bixian had stolen for her friend. The rage the snake demon felt towards the crane’s former master masked the rage she felt towards herself.
She waited until the fires of Liuying’s anger burned themselves away to ask, “What do you plan to do then?”
“Take away his youth,” Liuying replied, twisting the thread into a knot. “Take away his immortality.” Another parcel added to the pile. “Is that possible?” Qiping asked. Unspoken in her question was a request: the possibility of ending her own eternity.
“Not yet. But we have the time.” A thin smile graced the snake demon’s lips but did not reach her eyes. Since the fall of the Qiao, very little emotion reached Lady Liuying’s eyes. Even light did not linger long in her gaze.
-
Li Liuruo left her father’s house and was married to the Marquis Zhao.
She had many suitors when she came of age, from men eager to gain connection to the royal family. Some proposed to her a life of luxury, estates in Chang’an and elsewhere that rivaled her father’s; others, knowing her attachment to her father, offered to enter into her family household rather than bring her into their own.
“Do not trust those men,” her father had advised. “They plan to use their family name.”
“All these men do,” little Ruoruo replied, clear-eyed like the mother she did not remember. “They simply are more direct about their intentions.”
“They have less to offer you. Do not marry for my sake.”
“Chen Di is ill…”
“I can find a new steward,” Li Wenrong said without conviction. Both of them knew they would never find a man as loyal to the family as Chen Di.
“Besides,” he continued, “the Li clan only have power in name only. It may be wise to gain the protection of another house.”
In the end she chose the Marquis Zhao. He was neither the youngest nor the oldest of her suitors, neither the richest nor the poorest. He held fantasies of war but little martial prowess; a lover of scholarship without being much of a scholar himself. She chose him because he seemed like a man easily molded, and because his estate was close to her father’s. The drummers did not even finish their song when her marriage palanquin arrived on his doorstep.
Within two winters, she was with child.
-
Prince Wenrong waited in agony by the light of the mid-autumn moon.
Two days ago, he had received word that his daughter was in labor. No news had come since, no news either good or bad. Twice he had gone to visit the Marquis’ house, and twice he had left wringing his hands, only able to listen to his daughter wail behind a screen as maids scurried back and forth, carrying wet cloths and pots of boiled water.
Within his quarters, Chen Di fevered. He cursed at his uselessness, his inability to comfort his lord prince in this most crucial hour. More than that, he cursed the pains that wracked his body, that prevented him from departing to find Lady Liuying once a day had passed without news of a successful birth.
On the eve of the third night, when still no word had come, he forced himself out of bed and shakily dressed himself. He made it two steps out of his quarters before collapsing in the garden.
Night had come early. A few lonely beams of moonlight broke through the clouds and lighted upon the earth in front of him. In his delirium, Chen Di thought he saw a white rabbit hopping away in the periphery of his vision. The moonbeams coalesced into flowing silver robes, and a hand as cold as stone lifted his head up to look upon a goddess’s visage.
“Oh, you pitiful servant,” Chang’e said. “Your loyalty has touched me. I will go to the snake demon in your stead.”
As she lowered his head, he was back under covers, his clothes folded in a neat pile beside his head. Chen Di closed his eyes and rested, knowing there was not much time left for him in this world.
-
Qiping hid when customers came. It was simply a matter of ducking behind the counter and drawing a small cloth curtain to separate her from the business occurring on the other side. She didn’t like the haggling that occurred, or the customer’s vacant stare as Liuying went about gathering the requisite herbs.
She especially didn’t want to be recognized by former members of the Qiao. Once she was minding the shop while Liuying was out gathering herbs, and Yuan Po walked in asking for medicines to help with her daughter’s anemia. When the fox demon saw Qiping, her eyes widened with recognition and was filled with such a mix of anger and pity that Qiping had run away to stand by the latrine, enduring the smell for one hour until Liuying had returned.
The door swept open, and Qiping took the opportunity to step aside to her alcove. A cold air swept through the shop, and she peeked through the curtains to see customer’s stark white robes. A woman in mourning?
A shuffle, and Lady Liuying took her position at the counter. Qiping could see her silhouette bow, something she rarely did. “What may this humble apothecary offer the lady Chang’e?”
Qiping’s hands flew to her mouth to suppress a gasp. During her time as a disciple, she was drilled on the names of important gods and goddesses, and she recognized the name immediately. The wife of Houyi, who shot down eight of the emperor’s nine suns to spare the earth from their scorching heat. He and Chang’e were banished to be mortals but were gifted some pills of immortality by a pitying god. Instead of sharing the pills between them to live a long life untarnished by old age among mortals, Chang’e ate all of them and ascended back into heaven. Not heaven, exactly, but the moon.
What was she doing back among mortals, in a snake demon’s apothecary shop?
A white rabbit came snuffling by Qiping’s feet. Its fur carried a slight iridescence, betraying its celestial nature. She knew better than to shoo the creature away. Without thinking, her hand went to her belt where a small length of fur hung, once white but now faded to gray. A gift Xingxi had given her so long ago. A reminder of her care and cruelty.
The goddess spoke, and her voice was deeper than Qiping expected. Raspy and far away, even though she was standing only a few feet away. “I hear you offer an effective poultice for migraines. But that is not why I am here. Liuying the snake demon, your daughter is with child.”
“That is a joy I cannot partake in.” Lady Liuying’s voice did not waver or betray any emotion. Chen Di had written to her about the news some months prior.
“She labors now for the third night. If no one intervenes, neither mother nor child will survive.”
“Surely a royal physician is present.” Lady Liuying’s nonchalance betrayed her panic.
“Would you trust a royal physician with your daughter and grandson?”
The surrounding air grew colder still. Qiping picked up the rabbit and snuggled into its fur for warmth. Its body did not give off any additional heat; its heart was not beating.
“Why have you come here, Lady Chang’e? Why do you deign to grace a demon with your presence? Is it not enough to stay in your palace on the moon and watch the folly of mortals there?” The mask was off. Lady Liuying’s shadow loomed large; she spat her words with venom. “I can’t say I paid much attention to the Qiao, whether before or after their fall from grace. But you have caught my interest. You who were not there on that night of fire. You who were not even granted the poisoned promise of a mortal life. You survive alone, without your family, while the others cling to each other because that is all they have left. In short,” the goddess concluded, “you remind me of myself.”
“If we are so alike, then I will not take this kindness lightly.”
“Would you have been happy with them? Stripped of your power, just another mortal woman married to a mortal man?”
“You only ask that question because you yourself don’t dare answer it.”
Chang’e laughed without mirth. “Time away from Heaven has eroded my social acuity. I will still take your draught for migraines, if you have some to spare.”
There was shuffling as Lady Liuying gathered the ingredients, filling the air with the sharp scent of mint. Qiping pressed herself against the wall as she reached behind the curtain from some ground willow bark.
“You have already received my payment,” Chang’e said. “Come, Jade Rabbit. It’s time for us to return.”
The rabbit jumped from Qiping’s arms and hopped away. She finally peered through the curtain and saw the moon goddess as she ascended to the sky. The goddess had a broader back than Qiping expected, a body thick and sturdy like her own, not the flowing expanse of ribbon she had pictured Chang’e to be.
She stepped out and joined Liuying’s side. She was almost as tall as the snake demon now; it bothered her to look someone she thought of as an aunt directly in the eye, especially someone like Lady Liuying, whose gaze could freeze unsuspecting men in their tracks. Qiping had long let go of her fear of this woman, however, and had the bravery to ask, “You will go?”
“I only have one daughter,” Lady Liuying replied.
She was not Luo Xingxi. She was choosing family over revenge. But to Qiping, she was still choosing to leave. Liuying’s heart ached for this girl for whom abandonment was a constant companion. It was a special form of cruelty, to give her years of peace where she found people who loved her. One by one they left, leaving scars one deeper than the next. Bixian, Xingxi, and now her.
Liuying raised her hand to smooth away a stray strand of hair on Qiping’s head. “I promise you, you will meet people who will choose you, and choose to stay.”
“And what if they die?”
“That is the price of loving,” the snake demon replied. She turned and a ripple of wind blew through her body, her hair wrapping around her limbs until she wore scales of black and green. Then, as if on invisible wings, she alighted on the air, her body undulating, swimming through the sky as if it were water.