Chūn Kingdom, 108 years ago.
This is a place of fresh beauty, with low plateau meadows, vast basins of green ringed by distant, rolling hills. A good country for pasture, with plenty of food and slow slopes amenable to hoofed animals. The horses of Chūn are prized as suitable for noble children and for pulling light carriages, due to their peaceful temperament.
The third Chūn king, Shénzhī, was a fierce-looking man, with a face like Zhōng Kuí(1), but well-liked by his subjects. His main wife, Queen Mǎn Jīang, was as soft-mannered as the Chūn horses, and had given him two children; the Crown Prince, and the Second Princess Zéyì. The king had numerous concubines and children, but the children of the Queen stood out in particular. They were not the most beautiful, but the Crown Prince was lively and athletic, reckoned a great hunter and excellent strategist, and the Second Princess was pious and altruistic, constantly seeking to assist the poor and suffering.
At fifteen, she had almost fully embraced a nun's life, eating no meat, dressing simply, praying to the gods and volunteering her time at temples to assist the monks and nuns. So dedicated was she to her cause that she would have shaved all her hair off if her mother had not begged her to keep it.
And so it was that at twenty-four, she was unmarried, while her elder brother and several of her younger siblings already had children. Her nieces and nephews adored her, and she was content with looking after them and the Chūn people.
She had been cultivating all the while, a path of temperance, righteousness and piety known as Still Heart(2), and her care of the people and her increasing abilities made her appear almost like a living goddess. She gently turned aside any attempts at worship, requesting that proffered offerings be used for the good of those in need. It was an idyllic life.
Such things never last.
At first, it was only for a few days when the rain seemed particularly heavy. Farmers occasionally grumbled about fodder for the animals being ruined, but this was only temporary and there was still enough food.
But after a time the rain fell again, and again, falling steadily heavier and then for weeks on end. The fields began to flood then churned to mud, animals forced into increasingly small patches of land, then to swim, then to drown. Under the water, vegetation began to rot. Villages and then cities flooded, with even the lower sections of the Imperial City succumbing to the water. In this flat land, there were few places to go - some people made it to the distant hills, but many lost their lives in the floodwaters.
Something had to be done.
The King, desperate, turned to the neighbouring Zhàng(3) Kingdom for assistance. He requested temporary asylum for his people until the rains ceased, and in return, he offered his eldest daughter, the Second Princess Zéyì.
Although she was old for a bride, her great virtuousness and abilities would make her an excellent teacher for the young Crown Prince of Zhàng. Besides which, as the eldest daughter of the Chūn King and his Queen, she had great status, and the two kingdoms would thus be tied together strongly. The Zhàng Kingdom agreed.
Although reluctant, the Second Princess also agreed to the marriage, to help the Chūn people. Still she was suspicious of the rain. There was too much, far too much, for it to be a natural phenomenon. Something supernatural had to be at work.
In the month before her marriage, she investigated where she could, escaping from the lessons she was being taught in preparation for her new life, to try and determine the source of the endless rain. She skipped lessons to the point where even her gentle mother scolded her harshly until they were both in tears.
There were whispers that the curse that befell the Zhū Kingdom had now spread to Chūn. Others claimed that the gods were angry that the Chūn people were more reverent to a living woman than to them. In the end, the Second Princess' investigations found nothing but rumours and conjecture, and she had run out of time.
And yet, on that grey, stormy day when she exited the place in her wedding red to board the bridal sedan, veil threatening to fly away with the fierce winds, she finally came face to face with the one responsible for all the rain.
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The rain fell.
Everything was wet, down to the bones. There was not one person who could any longer comprehend the concept of dryness, though the servants fought hard against the black mould creeping up the palace walls and across the clothing of the nobles and royals who lived there. Even as Second Princess Zéyì, the Divine Lotus, stepped out of the palace in her red wedding robes, faint speckles of mould spangled the brilliant red. The servants had liberally festooned her in jewels to try and hide the damage.
There was no way of securing auspicious weather for this wedding. How could anyone expect sunshine to grace the bride as she headed away from her family home? Yet in the bravely burning torchlight, held by servants and townspeople alike to combat the dark and the rain, the Princess gleamed like a lotus flower in morning dew and those watching could not help but feel their hearts lift...
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"You think this will change anything?"
The woman blocking the Princess' way to her bridal sedan wore tattered clothing that had once been very fine and of high quality. Her eyes were strange, the pupils narrow even in the dim light. Before a soldier could even shout or move, she had raised a bony hand, fingernails long as claws, and summoned a ball of boiling red light within.
"Stay back," she laughed coldly, stepping towards the bride. When the soldiers flinched, she sent the burning light ricocheting amongst them, raising painful welts on their faces and hands.
The Princess did not move. Completely still, her face hidden by her veil, she seemed unafraid, standing straight before the strange woman, who sneered at her.
"Look at this cute little princess, playing god to the poor. How righteous!"
The Princess bowed politely in the returned. "Good auntie, please tell me if I have wronged you in any way. If I have I will do all in my power to rectify my mistake."
A sinister smile appeared on the woman's face. "Even if it means your death?"
Princess Zéyì's response was lost below the cry of the Queen, who rushed forwards at these words.
"NO! My daughter is innocent! Please, please spare her. What has she ever done to you? A Yì is a good and virtuous girl who would have been a nun if she were not of royal blood. Who are you, seeking her death? Demon!"
"Are you responsible for this rain?" the Princess asked calmly, embracing her sobbing mother to her side.
"No, little princess, it is you. You and your mother, and your father, and all the people here." The woman laughed, but she seemed to have lost energy. Even the burning light in her hands flickered uncertainly.
"And if I die, you will release your curse?"
"A Yì!" her mother screamed.
The woman laughed and the red light whirled wildly around her. "You offer yourself, little princess? Good, then I will take your life. Kneel and let me see your mother scream in agony!"
"I swear I will let you take my life, but please let me farewell my family first."
And so, although the Queen cried to the point of fainting, and the King and the Crown Prince swore to tear the demon woman apart, Princess Zéyì farewelled her family, and the demon woman took her life. With that, the curse was broken, the rain finally ceased, and the Chūn Kingdom was saved.
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"There are far too many issues with that story," Zyu Ji Sang pointed out.
"Oh absolutely," Miss Fén agreed, gobbling berries carelessly. "How many demons have the power to curse an entire country? Why did the Princess so easily give up her life? Why did was the curse created in the first place?" She paused her eating. "Xiǎo Guī?"
The cultivator was sitting very still, her eyes fixed on some unseen point between her and the lake. Something was stirring in her mind, scratching at her brain, screaming to be let out.
"She... looked like a Queen."
Zyu Ji Sang quirked an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"That woman... when she stood in front of me at the palace... her clothes were damaged, almost rags, and she looked so, so sick... but she... still looked like a Queen."
Miss Fén put down the berry she was holding. "Keep talking. What do you remember?"
"N-nothing else, just her... just -"
"Just her is fine. Tell me about her clothes. The colour of her eyes, how tall she was..."
"She was... tall, I think. But she was hunched over... like I said, looked ill. Pale, thin, her skin looked greasy. So did her hair. It was loose and long." The words were coming easily now. "She may not actually have been that old, but her fingers looked damaged and the nails were so long. Her clothes looked like they were made of expensive materials. There were patches that looked as though they had gold thread running through them... no... not quite, but something similar. Her eyes were... it was hard to see with the light. A strange mix of brown and blue..." She trailed off as Miss Fén drew a long, shuddering breath. "Miss Fén?"
Zyu Ji Sang was also watching quizzically. Miss Fén shook her head. "It's as I thought. I know how to break your curse. But it will take a lot of energy, and I'm... well... a little under the weather right now. Sorry, Your Highness, but you won't be able to go home just yet."
"Miss Fén, you've already done so much," Meí Guī said softly. Memories were slowly filtering back in, filling the void in her mind. She stood and bowed respectfully to the demon hunter, the grace and training of a princess evident in her posture. "If you will not call me Meí Guī any longer, then please call me A Lián. My family used to call me so, and I owe you so much, I must call you my older sister."
"Then, call me Fan Ze," Miss Fen smiled. "As... As Zyu Ji Sang calls me."
"Fan Ze." Lián tested the strange syllables of the Zhū tongue, wondering if this was the right moment to ask Miss Fén about her own background. But her head was reeling with her own memories, and more questions kept arising than being answered. Not only were the questions that Miss Fén asked absolutely valid, there were so many more. Most importantly, if she had supposedly died, how had she instead ended up cursed to be bound to a lake in a different kingdom?
The dark night, which had at first felt peaceful and friendly, was beginning to develop the first signs of autumn chill, and Lián could feel it sapping her energy.
"I think it's time for sleep. A Lián, please don't be offended if I don't keep you company tonight, I am so tired I fear I may snore loudly and interrupt your own rest."
Lián blinked, wondering why Miss Fén was speaking so formally. "That's... well, of course. Please rest well, Fan Ze." The name slipped easily from her mouth this time, like water in a stream, when moments earlier the sounds had felt so foreign. Why?
Zyu Ji Sang had already packed up her things and gone as Miss Fén bowed politely and disappeared amongst the trees, leaving Lián to settle down alone in her shelter. She pulled her blanket tightly around her, as though she were being hugged, wishing that she had asked Miss Fén to stay, but remembering that exhausted, conflicted look on the demon hunter's face.
I'll talk to her tomorrow, she thought, over and over, pressing her tongue hard to the roof of her mouth because she would not cry. Don't cry. I'll talk to her tomorrow.