My son. You were such an ugly little thing when you were born. But Mother forgives you. She’s seen enough babies to know you’ll get cuter with time.

And you did.

We named him Shu Lan Jing. A pure soul of the mountain mist. Or just Lan, for short. He could have gone by Jing, but that what’s I called my husband. There can be only one Jing, any more would get confusing!

Little Lan had taken most of my power and somehow used it to double his own. I have no idea how that was done, as my diminished powers meant I couldn’t look deeply into the human body anymore. Perhaps even if I could I wouldn’t understand it. Some things only the gods knew.

Even though I’d told Jing his son had been a miracle baby, I hadn’t meant it literally. But perhaps Little Lan was a miracle in the literal sense. That he could do such things with his power instinctual, without being taught, was remarkable. Even my brother and I had to learn how to use our power over eons of time… yet my son did many things without being told.

Was it because he was human too? Humans were highly adaptable, especially their bodies. Is this what happened when fairy and human bloodlines truly mixed? How amazing!

My husband didn’t realize anything was truly wrong with me until after Little Lan turned a year old. The Physicians had noticed that I had not regained my pre-pregnancy health. Those traitors naturally told Jing about the problem.

Jing came to me, worried and upset. He asked me if I knew what was going on. The Physicians could only do so much for me, the human part of me. The other half was spirit.

I lied.

Every so sweetly, I lied.

I told him that it was a side affect from being in this human body. I had told him before that I was substantially weakened by becoming human. Shifts in health, that was to be expected. I was physically weak, but that was all. I would be fine.

He wasn’t happy with that explanation. But at the same time, how would he know better? For all his cultivating, it was still for humans. When he looked into me with his qi, he could not understand what he was seeing. Even if he wanted to object, he couldn’t.

I would never tell him the truth. Not even with my dying breath. I would never let him feel bitter towards his son. I could only try to stop him from blaming himself, if I could. That would be the hardest part.

Right now, I was still stronger than the average man, just chronically tired. It would be another ten years before the drain really showed and I became like an ordinary woman. And then another five years before I was bed-bound. The last five years would be the hardest, since I’d not be able to move much. And the last year… well, let’s not think about it.

I loved being a mother. And Little Lan was such a smart, well behaved child so he made it easy. Perhaps too well behaved at first, which worried me. He seemed disinterested in all the things boys his age liked and learned to do everything early. By the time he grew teeth, he could talk as well as an adult. He never acted spoiled or whined. It was strange,like a grown man trapped in a little child’s body. Was it because his soul wasn’t human?

The six children I’d taken in were thrilled by Little Lan. I had raised them very carefully, making sure they were loyal to my husband and to me. When they were old enough, I sat each one down and told them the truth about their families. They could choose: be bitter and (attempt) revenge, or accept what happened and learn from their parents mistakes. This was my test for them, and they all passed. None of them sought vengeance and were instead mortified to discovery they came from a family of traitors.

Yet gossipy people still slandered them by saying they might be jealous of the crown and so the Emperor shouldn’t trust them! Could those loved by fairies have such black hearts? Would those who so ardently seek my husband’s approval do such a thing? And didn’t I personally pick them to begin with? So of course they weren’t jealous! In fact, they were relieved to finally be free of such a fate.

Out of the four boys, two absolutely did not want to be in governance. One was too analytical, preferring to deal with numbers rather than people. The other loved animals, particularly horses, and dreamed of becoming a renowned breeder and rider. The third was happy to be a Scholar and spend most of his time with a nose in a book and his head in the clouds. The fourth had the most potential, but he hated politics and instead fled into the Army (to “earn his glory”, he’d said, but those close to him knew he did it to earn praise from Jing, the adopted Father he adored).

The two girls could only marry someone into the throne. One had decided to study martial and cultivate her qi, training directly under Jing as his only Disciple. I suppose there was a distant possibility she could get married, but her taste in men was… somewhat lacking, in my opinion. She preferred brawns over brains, so there was no way she’d pick someone who could rule a country.

And her as an Empress… she’d barely passed in her studies as a child and was too blunt for higher society. In fact, if I hadn’t taken her in, I can’t imagine how she’d survive in her original family. I’d always been scandalously open minded about what women were capable of doing, to the point that I ruffled quite a few feathers socially. Her family had been extremely traditional, which is why they’d rebelled (not just against Jing, but also because of their hatred for me). That kind of environment would have suffocated a personality like hers. She needed freedom, and that’s not something they could have given her and certainly not something you get as an Empress.

The other girl was almost the polar opposite, sweet and gentle like pudding. She was sensitive to people’s feelings and unusually perceptive of the inner workings of people around her. In some ways, she was the most suited for dealing with the political scheming that came with being an Imperial Royal, but her compassionate nature was her biggest foil. No matter how aware she was of the real intent of a person, some part of her optimistically insisted on giving people second, third, and fourth chances.

So while she could have picked a good husband to be the next Emperor, under the wrong influence she could also be deeply and viciously abused. There were quite a few flies— I mean men— who I had to scare off because of her forgiving nature made her appear an easy target. Not to mention the many times noble women and their daughters tried to use her to get to the Emperor or slap my face. Frankly, it was frustrating how often people saw her as a weakness, rather than a beautiful kind soul to love and admire.

Goodness! But you can see why there was no way she could survive as an Empress with that kind of personality! She’d be trodden over and eventually thrown away! It was fortunate for me she was smart enough to realize her weaknesses and deferred to my judgment, even to the extent of insisting I pick out a suitable marriage partner for her at 15 (despite the fact that I never forced such things on any of them).

Quite naturally, when Little Lan was born, they were not only extremely relieved, but they also insisted on teaching him everything they knew as well. Each had their specialty, so they taught in their own way: mathematics, animals, strategy and martial arts, or simply the art of being still and listening. Little Lan seemed to absorb everything they taught with ease, only making them adore him even more. (To the extent that they became doting older siblings who spoiled the youngest.)

I loved watching them interact. To me, this was how siblings should behave: affectionate but teasing, and always protective. Even my brother had been a like that at the beginning, before he went mad. I was glad that Little Lan got to experience the sweetness of familial love beyond just his parents, as they would be the only siblings I could give him.

That being said, I was a bit surprised by how seriously he took everything they said. His round little face always so attentive to their words. I asked him once why he was so careful to pay attention to them.

He told me, in his childish voice: “Aren’t they very good, Mother? And even though they’re a little distant from you, you love them even still. I will love anything you love.” He gave a cute scowl. “Though Father is difficult. Even though you love him, he’s not even as good as my Imperial siblings… and he’s so demanding of you… it is hard but I will try to love him too…”

I’m not sure why he thought Jing was demanding, but it is true my husband’s goodness was a little less than my adopted children. I’m ashamed to admit it, but as the years passed, Jing had begun to obsess over me and it created a small black blemish on his soul. I worked very hard to keep that darkness tiny and powerless, sometimes irritating him on purpose to do so. After all, I’d seen what that kind of possessiveness did unchecked in my Brother, I didn’t need it in Jing.

Even so, it was such a small thing. I was stunned that he could even see it. To differentiate such minute goodness in people… He was only four, but he could see into people better than the fairies who’d lived for centuries.

…

I think my baby boy may be a genius as well as a miracle child.

He’s ten now. He argues with his Father frequently. Is it because he thinks Jing is too demanding? I brought that up once after a particularly vicious yelling match, but Little Lan had snorted and declared that Jing was just too stubborn and wouldn’t listen to sense.

Really… this boy… while I was glad to see he wasn’t blindly obedient and was now more than willing to speak his mind… must he do it in such a way as to anger his Imperial Father so?

Their fights were particularly alarming when Jing started teaching Little Lan the Blue Dragon Spirit Style (the rather flamboyant name Jing gave for his variation of my teachings). Little Lan, like everything else, was a prodigy with martial arts and spiritual cultivation. So rather than simply verbally fight, father and son began to physically fight as well. More than once, their fighting got out of hand and the Palace had to be repaired.

What on earth is with these two? Why can’t they get along? I had to lecture both of them on a regular basis now, that such behavior was unbecoming of their station (and also would worry me into an early grave). If I had the strength, I would have beaten some sense into them, luckily for them all I could do was scold.

My Mother now lived with me. She was well advanced in age at this point, Father having sadly passed away some years prior. In her twilight years, I wanted her to live in ease and comfort, her every whim catered to. Of course I insisted she live in the Palace.

Thus, when I complained about my husband and son fighting, she told me with absolute certainty it was because they were too much alike. Her father and one of her brothers had been like that too, and quarreled frequently as a result. But in the end, it was that argumentative brother that had ended up the family head once her father had passed on.

She then turned it around and started scolding me. Me of all people! My own Mother accused me of being too carefree and spoiling Little Lan. Even when my Grandfather and Uncle argued, they never did so in such a way that would get public attention. Such open disrespect from my son was a poor reflection of my teaching skills as a Mother… apparently, is what I was told.

Ah, dear Mother, how can I take anything you say seriously? Didn’t you come today, despite your frailty from old age, with a whole box of sweets to personally give to Little Lan? Don’t you glare daggers at Jing every time he fought with your grandson, acting as though Jing was the only instigator? Don’t you glare daggers at ME when I try to discipline Little Lan like you insisted I should be doing!? Aren’t you far more guilty of spoiling than I am???

…

Still though, maybe I should be more firm with Little Lan. To be truthful, I gave him all the same freedoms I’d given his adopted siblings. But unlike them, he was a Crown Prince and that meant he was under the public eye at all times. It’s not that I didn’t teach him proper behavior. He technically knew Imperial Etiquette, but he rarely used it. He’d already scandalized quite a few nobles by using his fairy intuition to point things out about them that were better left unsaid. Once he even offended a whole group of foreign dignitaries to the point of almost causing an international incident.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

…Yes, Mother had a point. I started being much more firm and strict with Little Lan. The Imperial Queen persona that unintentionally intimidated my adopted children, was purposefully turned with full force on my own son.

But I’m sorry to say it didn’t worked as well as I had hoped. I’d started too late. He was much too clever to fall for my act and saw right through me…

He humored me by going along with my act when I’d implied the extra worry he was giving me was ruining my already poor health. What a low point in my life, that I had to use guilt on my own precious child to get him to listen to me!

At least he understood it was very important to me that he act as a well-behaved Crown Prince for the Court and the public. He knew I valued his reputation and wanted him to be respected by the citizens and listened to by those in power. Which could only happen if he acted like the Imperial Royalty that he actually was… at least where people could see!

So he’s perfected his “Imperial Face”, as I call it. He became the perfect Crown Prince, modest but confident. Respectful to elders, but willing to speak his opinion when asked. Refined in speech and topics, but able to converse with even those of the most lowly status in society. But most importantly never again destroyed the Palace in fights with his Imperial Father!

Such a change in face pleased the Court and the Nobility, which in turn boosted his reputation nation-wide. The grumblings about the Prince being spoiled slowly went away as he perfected that “Imperial Face”. The naughty behavior of his past were eventually forgotten as the years passed, attributed to youthful exuberance rather than personality.

I felt a little bad, stifling him so much. It’s not that I wanted to change him into someone else, he just needed to know the right time and place for his behavior. To offset the harshness of the expectations I’d put on him, I made sure to praise him whenever he succeeded. Hugs and kisses on the top of his head, bed time stories from my past, walks in the garden, secret sweets… whatever I could think of, and for a while he relished in my attention.

Then, one day, all the things I’d been doing began to be rejected one-by-one. When I began to pout about it (by out right ignoring him), he finally confessed that my behavior had become embarrassing to him. He was too old for such affection from his Mother, especially so openly where everyone could see. I needed to, in his own words, “refrain myself as befitting an Imperial Consort”.

You brat! I loved giving you kisses and hugs and sneaking you sweets in the middle of the night! That “Imperial Face” was only meant to be a fake face, not the real you! I regret teaching you to use it, I regret it—!

Bah! Puberty is a terrible thing! It changes children. Where did my sweet Little Lan go?

He’s fifteen now. He looks more and more like his Father every day. Young Misses have noticed his good looks and behavior without any prodding from their families. The gossip within the groups of eligible young ladies has become all about the prodigiously handsome Crown Prince. Of course I keep track of such talk, and also of my son, to see if any of these ladies would be a good match.

Hm… I’m somewhat puzzled. Though there are many fine ladies to pick from, he’s not interested in any of them. What’s more I, the best matchmaker in the country, can’t seem to find anyone suitable either. It’s hard for me to tell if it’s simply my waning power or that there really isn’t a match for him.

I hope that’s not the case. The Court gave enough trouble with Jing, what will they do if Lan ends up being just as stubborn? And while I forced much on him, I won’t force a loveless political marriage. I love him too much for that, and I don’t care enough for the country to sacrifice his most intimate happiness.

Though Lan looks very like Jing, my husband says he has my eyes. They’re a brown, an uncommon color in a nation of black eyes. He told me those brown eyes of Lan’s are the only thing keeping him from strangling his own son.

Oh yes, they still come to blows despite all that training. It’s just that they no longer did so openly. It was all “cloak and dagger” fighting, to the point that even I sometimes couldn’t keep track of it.

Why does my son goad his own father? I swear they don’t know how to talk to each other unless it’s to make the other lose face. Even if I can’t see into them anymore, I’m confident they don’t hate each other. So why must they act this way? Maybe my dearly departed Mother was right: they’re too alike and it causes them to clash.

I’m weak now. The powers I had as a mountain spirit are almost gone. I have to be careful and conserve what I have left.

Physically, I’m weaker than even most women. I can’t walk for long and I’m going to bed earlier and earlier every day. I can’t hide the truth from Jing. He knows something is terribly wrong and presses me for answers. But I still can’t tell him either. To know I would die, to know it was a choice I made without consulting him… it would break his heart. So even when he pleads, even when he yells, I don’t tell him. I just smiled gently and say this is a natural part of my life.

I think he hates that gentle smile now.

Little Lan… well, he’s not really Little anymore… senses it too. He sensed it before Jing did, but having no frame of reference didn’t know to worry until it was too late. Unlike his Father who can’t see into me, Lan can see into my spirit and understand somewhat. He sees my spirit dwindling. He knows that at the rate I’m going, I don’t have much time left. It’s worse for him, because he sees what his Father can not.

My fairy children are mostly gone, only the most powerful are left. They travel and only come to me when they’re ready to go into Lan. I can’t blame them for relishing their freedom while they have it. None of us know how long they’ll be asleep.

Interestingly, Lan doesn’t realize they’re sleeping inside him. He doesn’t sense me sneaking them deep into his spirit, though admittedly I do it at night when he’s sleeping and less likely to notice. Even so, I’d notice someone stuffing that many fairies inside my spirit. Their absence makes me feel empty as it is, so surely their presence ought to make him feel full?

Is it because I’ve been doing it since before he was born? Perhaps he thinks that feeling is a natural part of his existence. But then… he wasn’t completely human, how would he know what was and wasn’t normal unless I told him?

Jing and Lan are so worried now. Jing’s aged from the stress and lines are showing around his eyes and mouth, his hair even started to gray. Even though he’s threatening the Physicians (sorry, gentlemen, it’s not your fault), they can’t fix what’s wrong with me. It’s not a physical illness. I made Jing and Lan both swear on their names and love for me that they won’t punish anyone for their failure to cure me.

Jing’s so desperate for a cure, one he’ll never find. In an effort to calm his frantic searching, I told him he won’t find a cure. He didn’t just yell at me, he screamed. I’d never seen him so furious. He was angry I was giving up without trying. I didn’t fight back, like I might have in the past, because how could I be upset knowing he was just worried? I didn’t want what was left of my days to be filled with arguments with him.

Lan was just as desperate as his Father, but being more informed, tried a different approach. He tried putting his power into me. In theory, it could have worked. Even though his spiritual energy was very much his own now, there was always a strange likeness in our qi. Perhaps it came from me being his power source as a baby, or perhaps it was simply the nature of mountain spirits to be somewhat similar. I don’t know, I can’t look anymore to find out.

He’s so much stronger than me now, rivaling my strength before I took a human body. He was still weaker than I had been in my prime, but he also lacked the mountains to feed off of. I wonder how strong might he be if he could draw from the mountains? He’s so strong now… would he be as powerful as my brother? More powerful? Ah, so many questions and I’ll probably never get them answered…

Weaker than my prime he might be but he was still obscenely strong. In fact, that’s the problem. He’s got all that power and wields it like a hammer. I almost died early the first time he tried passing power to me. It was like having my head stuffed in water. The boy is a genius in a lot of ways, but he’s got no skill for precision work.

To be fair to him, I’ve lived for eons, I know about finesse and delicacy. My son does not. I tried teaching him how to be… gentle… but apparently what came easy for me was actually quite difficult for him. I’m also really weak now, so my spiritual touches that guide him… he can’t really feel them. Using the water as an example, it’s like a drop in the ocean.

I’m reflecting on myself. Until I tried showing him what he needed to do, it had not occurred to me that I might… be… old. Experience matters, even to a spirit. All the things I’d done, I had forgotten that I once didn’t know how to do them. All that time I had let me refine my powers to perfection.

Trying to teach someone else how to do something I myself forgot how I learned is really difficult. It gave me no pleasure to tell him that by the time he figured out what I was trying to teach him, it’d be too late.

Lan was so frustrated by my attitude, he yelled at me for not trying harder! Goodness, I got yelled at by both my husband and my son in the same week!

They really are alike…

I love them both, so very much. Even when they yell at me. Their anger tells me I’m alive.

Lan is turning 20 soon. I had hoped I’d live a little longer than this, but inserting the most powerful fairies into Lan the year before was more exhausting than I expected. They’re all stored away, safely asleep. He’s spiritually stuffed and has no idea. For some reason I found that image very amusing.

I don’t get up anymore. I’ve been bed-bound for a year now. I sleep most of the day away. I’ve long since stopped missing going out of the Palace, at this point I miss just going out of my room. I’m so tired all the time. No matter how much I sleep, it’s not enough. So tired… so tired…

My time is soon. I can feel it every time I fall asleep. My spirit aches to be free of this body, to truly rest. But I’ll stay for as long as I can. I know there are people who will miss me.

Jing. Lan. And many more besides. Even my estranged Brother.

Everything I’ve written is for my dear son, Shu Lan Jing.

But that brat, can you believe he’s forgotten all about my origins? At first I wasn’t sure, but when he turned 18 he offhandedly brought up the bedtime stories I told him as a child, saying fondly that he liked my “fairy tales”. I was livid. He thought I’d been telling him fanciful tales about far away places to entertain him!

This was serious! Who I am is also who he is… if he can’t accept my past, how can he accept his future? What about all those sleeping fairies?! If he doesn’t even believe they exist, how will he wake them!

I immediately tried correcting him. Every time he visited me, as by this time I was mostly bed-bound, I’d bring it up. At first he listened and I thought perhaps I was getting through to him. But after almost a year of me talking about it, he firmly told me he was too old to believe in those tall tales I’d told him as a child. He could face the world’s reality without my tall tales to help him.

…

Boy, you were up to your eyeballs in fairies as a child! Did you think that was all wistful, childish imagining? It really happened! And now you’re stuffed full of fairies on the inside! So don’t talk to me about fairy tales, you ARE a fairy tale— with legs!

I’ll get my revenge in the end! I’ve gone back and added the juicy bits of Jing and mine relationship to make him embarrassed. Heh! Suffer boy! Suffer! You’ll be reading things you would have rather never known!

I tried enlisting Jing in my quest to correct my son’s misunderstanding. His anger over my giving up had faded away and was replaced with growing fear that I’d been right. He was considerate of me now, spending most of his time whispering sweet nothings in my ear and fulfilling any request I gave him.

When Jing explained to Lan that I hadn’t been telling fairy tales, it somehow turned into a fight between them. I should have seen that coming. From what I’m told, as I wasn’t there, Lan believed his Father was become so mad with grief from the inevitable that he’d believed my delusions as real. And if Jing was going to go that far, it was better for him to retire, let his son take over, and spend time with me during the last days of my life.

What a harsh thing to say to his own Father. When had Lan become so cold? The Imperial Face he’d cultivate as a child seem to have become his real face now.

If I had known this would be the result…

…it’s too late for regrets. I can’t fix what I had done. I had neither the time nor the energy left. Even so, I can’t help feeling sorry for myself, my fairies, my son. What a stupid mistake for me to make, knowing as I did that he absorbed the world around him so well.

Lan… my Little Lan.. I’m sorry I forced you to be like everyone else. Will you forgive me? When you’ve lived a very long time, will you remember your Mother fondly despite the mistakes I made raising you?

…

Yesterday was Lan’s 20th birthday. What energy I had left, I used to stand and talk and be there at his party. Both husband and son were worried, but I acted totally normal. So for just a bit, it was as if I wasn’t sick.

But today is the last day.

Lan, my beloved son. My little boy. My idiot genius. I wish I did not have to leave you, but I’d rather leave you then have you never existed at all.

Remind your Father that I loved him until the end. And not to mourn too long for me. He can remarry if he likes. Or not. Whatever will make him happy. Just don’t let that dark hole in his heart grow more than it already has during my illness. What if it swallows him, and he goes to the place evil men go after they die? I can not bear the thought!

Protect your Father as much as you can, Lan. He’s not unbreakable, despite how he acts when he argues with you. My death will break him. Be there to help put him back together. You are all he has, so do your best.

If he ignores your efforts, I won’t blame you. Humans are interesting because they can be light or darkness. I hope Jing doesn’t fall into darkness… but if the choice wasn’t there, he wouldn’t be himself.

But don’t tell your Father of this letter, memoir, whatever you’d like to call it. Not until he’s past the point of blaming himself, where he won’t blame you. Where he can be sad without being bitter and angry. Only then, is he allowed to read it.

It should be clear at this point, Lan, that blaming yourself for my death is absolutely forbidden. I don’t know where fairies go, where I’ll go, when I die. But I’m sure if you blame yourself, I’ll hear of it somehow and cry. Surely you don’t want your Mother’s ghost weeping over you? So don’t blame yourself!

Rejoice that you are alive, my miracle, my Little Lan. I’ve not regretted any of my life, even the mistakes. Not to the very end. Being with Jing, your father, being with you… it’s all been so fun, so interesting. I lived a good life.

Lan, even if you don’t believe anything else I wrote down, believe this: I have a Brother far to the East and he lives in the Blue Mountains. The maps on this end of the world don’t show them. But they’re the biggest mountain chain on the continent, you can’t miss them. Travel to the East, visit my Brother.

Tell him I love him. Tell him, I’m not angry with him. Everything that happened, on my end, is forgiven. If he’d not kicked me out, I’d have never met Jing or had my adorable Little Lan or met so many wonderful people or gone on so many adventures. How can I remain bitter?

And I’d appreciate, if you’re going to the Blue Mountains, making a copy of this and put it in the Traveler’s Cave for safe keeping. My entire written history is in there, and it’d be deeply unsatisfying if the ending wasn’t included. How will any lost hikers tolerate a story without an ending?

There is nothing left to say, except this:

I love you.