The sun was nearly set when they made a structure that remained standing, a pavilion sitting atop the lake with a small bridge connecting it to shore. “I suppose we don’t have to worry about foundations in water,” Chen Di thought to himself, though he suspected that the pagoda was less secured to the bottom of the river by its poles and more held in its place by enchanted kelp. Nevertheless, it was growing dark, and the structure provided some comfort from the wind and cold.

The five travelers sat around a makeshift fire pit, and the humans ate a simple but filling meal of freshly caught fish. Lady Liuying politely refused when offered; snakes, Chen Di supposed, often went long stretches between their meals. She was putting the finishing touches on her embroidery, the gold of the silk reflecting in her eyes in the dim light.

Once the dishes were cleared away, the couples settled next to each other, heads resting on shoulders and hands idling beside each other. Looking at the pairs, Chen Di swallowed the envy beginning to bubble in his chest. Such courtly love was for the likes of immortals, or if a mortal would be touched with such love they would be bestowed upon princes rather than stewards. Nevermind that the Weaver loved a cowherd.

With a flourish Liuying buried her final stitch and laid out her work on the pavilion floor, careful to avoid the stove’s burning embers. She had been making a flag, Chen Di realized. Inside a border of mountains and waves, a single character stood proudly in the center.

“A fair name,” he offered to the founders before him.

“Our fate has been tied with bridges,” Lady Liuying said.

“What fine handiwork,” Tangyou marveled. “You certainly have an eye for beauty that matches the goddesses of Heaven.”

Though she was not a bird, Lady Liuying preened.

The phoenix continued to trace her finger along the finely embroidered edge. “Phoenixes are often born in times of war,” she said slowly. “We live and die by the dynasties of man. By our fifth year we are fully grown and leave our nest. We rarely have courts like dragons do,” she glanced over to Ao Luming. “But we sometimes return to the place of our birth. When we do, we often bring a thing of beauty with us. It’s a game we play during the dusk, in the hours before sleep. Each of us presents a bauble and tells a story connected to it. The story circle was how my family reconnected after many years.” She looked around at the faces illuminated by firelight. “I can’t think of a better way to pass the time this first night, getting to know each other better.”

Lady Liuying splayed her hands proudly atop her work. “Perhaps I might begin?”

Tangyou nodded. “Please. Tell us, Liuying, how did you learn to sew so well?”

“When I first achieved human form, my skin was raw as if I had just shed my snakeskin. I could not stand the feeling of either wool or linen on my skin. If I wanted to walk among mortals, I had to find a solution. So I took my old skins and wove them into a robe. And I felt as proud of my work there as when I stood on two feet for the first time. I still weave my scales into my clothes,” she held out her sleeve where gold and obsidian glistened. “How about you, my dear?”

Prince Wenrong was caught by surprise, and fumbled about on his person until he settled on a cord tied about his belt. He untied it and held out a jade crest in the shape of a turtle with a neck that circumscribed its shell.

“I was gifted this by my lord father when I came of age,” he said. “I was surprised when he gave me this; I was expecting a dragon or a phoenix,” he looked pointed at Tangyou and Luming and smiled, “or something more grand. But no, I got a turtle, and to be honest I was pleased. I thought he didn’t know a thing about me; I am not one of his favored sons, and my mother is more valued for the care she provides his mother than any true love. But he remembered that as a child I liked to chase turtles in the pond, and gave me this. At that time he spared me a small piece of his love.”

Chen Di shifted awkwardly as his prince spoke, listening to doubts of fatherly love even he, as close friend and confidant, was not privy to before. He hoped that his prince judged these people correctly, heavenly or demonic heritage be damned. If any of these strangers went to the capital with accounts of Wenrong’s unfilial thoughts, he would be imprisoned for treason. Perhaps even killed.

Only Ao Luming seemed perturbed by the prince’s story. “I’m sure you are of worth to your father,” he said.

Prince Wenrong smiled gratefully at the platitude.

“It is auspicious indeed that my name matches your dynasty,” Tangyou said to dispel the silence, then turned to Chen Di. “How about you next, prince’s brother?”

Chen Di bowed his head when his turn came. “I’m afraid I have nothing of note to show, lady phoenix.”

“It does not need to be a grand story.”

“Even then. Happiness comes hard to me.”

“It does not need to be happy,” Tangyou said softly. “Simply something of yourself that you are willing to give. Like this,” she reached into her hair and pulled off a hair ornament adorned with small brown feathers.

“These were the first feathers I grew after I was a chick. I hated the color of them then, hated every part of them, because back then I did not have the words to explain why I felt so wrong in my body. By the time I found the means of changing myself, I had ripped all the feathers from my body.”

“But you saved some of your feathers.” Lady Liuying said.

Tangyou smiled softly. “I did. I suppose you and I are alike in that regard as well, sister. Despite everything, there is something precious about one’s body, imperfect as it is.” She closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth of the fire.

The next time she opened them she was staring directly at Chen Di. In her eyes he saw a familiar expression worn by captive songbirds who trusted their owners so completely they remained in their cage even when the door was open. Wordlessly, she urged him to continue the story circle.

At last Chen Di understood the purpose of the phoenix’s game. To play among strangers was different than to play among family. In these tales, the storyteller gave the listeners the means to destroy them. It was an act of ultimate trust. To become family, in a different way.

He held out his left forearm and began to unravel the ribbon he had tied around it. Prince Wenrong reached out and stayed Chen Di’s hand, asking silently if he truly wished to reveal his mark. Chen Di nodded, and the prince withdrew his hand.

Beneath the ribbon was a brand, marking Chen Di as a traitor and a slave. It was by the emperor’s grace that he was branded on his forearm and not his cheek.

The three mystical beings leaned in to better examine the scar. “I know the word written there,” Tangyou said, “but I do not understand its significance.”

“Do not mince words for my sake, lady phoenix,” Chen Di replied. “It’s as you suspect. When I was ten my family fell from the emperor’s graces. My treasonous uncle caused three generations of my family to be executed. By His Majesty’s grace I was spared and sent to work in the inner court. It so happened that there was a prince only a few years my junior who I could serve.” He looked over to Prince Wenrong. “And he, as well as his mother, were kind, and gave me a new family.”

Prince Wenrong placed a hand on Chen Di’s shoulder and smiled broadly, first at him and then at Lady Liuying. “You understand why I insisted on bringing him? If we are making a new family, my brother must be a part of it.”

Though he could never give voice to this perdition, Chen Di felt his chest swell with pride as Prince Wenrong called him brother, closer in kin than any of his relations in blood.

He glanced over to the dragon prince, the only one yet to go. “Forgive me for bringing a dour story for you to follow.”

Ao Luming shook his head. “I am honored to have listened to your story, Brother Chen. All of you,” he looked over at the others gathered near the fire. “I rarely feel able to speak freely, but here I know I can. And if we are sharing precious things, then I must show you this, something I hold most dear.”

From his sleeves he produced a sizable scroll, with a width of nearly two feet. Chen Di wondered for a moment where it came from before realizing that this was a dragon prince, who was currently hiding twenty feet of dragon in a humanoid form. Ao Luming unfolded the scroll, revealing a life-sized ink painting of a handsome woman posing with a long sword. Her right foot was kicked up, a jianzi suspended in the air in an arc.

“She’s beautiful,” Tangyou said, with the slightest tinge of worry in her voice. “Who is she?”

“I know her best in story,” he said. “May I tell it?”

“Of course.”

Ao Luming took a breath and then began:

“The first king of Liang had a fierce daughter. Long ago, while her father was still at war and her people a nationless caravan, she was but a child playing near a frozen lake. One hard kick had sent her jianzi flying atop the ice, and with the brashness of a child she stepped onto the ice to retrieve it.

“‘Be careful!’ a voice echoed from below the ice. ‘Lest you fall in and drown. The ice is thin and the current is swift.’

“Frustrated, the princess sat down at the bank and cried. After a moment, however, she could hear the breaking of ice as a dragon emerged from the depths with the jianzi in his mouth. The princess took it and thanked him profusely.

“Needless to say, her father eventually won the war. When it came time for her to marry, she issued a challenge to those who sought her hand: they must catch her by surprise. Of course it was not so easy getting the drop on her. She had survived the burning of her first home, and a long journey on horseback filled with bandits and assassins. It was said her skill with the sword rivaled that of the chief marshal.”

“So all her suitors died at her blade,” Liuying said approvingly. “A very resourceful woman.”

“Did she ever wed?” Prince Wenrong asked.

“On a summer day, while strolling about the palace grounds,” Luming continued, “A cool breeze swept through the garden and the princess shivered. ‘Is it autumn already?’ she asked her ladies in waiting. Then she understood, and smiled. For in that brief winter wind, the dragon won her hand.”

Ao Luming became animated as he told the story. He spoke with his hands, sweeping grand gestures to mimic the wind and held his hand coquettishly to his face to mimic the princess’ smile. None of the stories had such an effect on the storyteller. For the first time, Chen Di was reminded that Ao Luming was a prince too.

“And her beauty was captured in the painting?” Lady Liuying asked.

“More than her beauty. Her soul as well.”

Liuying bent closer to inspect the scroll. “Yes, I can smell it in the ink. She’s one stroke away from becoming alive.” She tucked her hair behind her ears as Tangyou put a steady hand on her shoulders and drew her back, lest her breath age the canvas.

“My father would rather preserve her in the stark beauty of her youth rather than watch her fade and die.”

Tangyou looked at her lover quizzically. “Your father? Does this mean…”

“Dragon eggs incubate for eighty-one years. My mother had disappeared into myth by the time I hatched. I had thought that in Heaven, I might find a way to revive her so my father could love again.”

Silence fell on the group. For many minutes, each person considered what would be appropriate to say. What did you say to a son who never knew his mother, taken away from him by time itself? What did you say to someone who had just left his life’s goal for another, for a more tangible, present love?

Finally, Tangyou broke the silence. “No wonder you are so slow. You move around like a snail, carrying the heavy burden of home.”

“No more,” Prince Wenrong added. “We will build an archive to protect our precious things. Your mother may rest here.” He glanced over to the flag his lover had embroidered, and smiled at the word shining amidst fire and moonlight. “Safe amongst the Qiao.”

Outside, it began to rain, a soft drizzle that the pavilion’s roof kept at bay. Lifted by a light wind, the waves lapped against the walls. Chen Di went outside to check on the horses, and then five weary travelers gathered their blankets about them and drifted off to sleep.

Chen Di's name is written 陈地, though it honestly should be 五轮.