Huayu ordered a stunned Obe to prepare the Drenched Blossom Pavilion in his palace for my residence. He then had nine phoenixes serenade the Fatewriter outside the Hall of Terrestial Descent. It was the highest form of gratitude in Shenjie and, immediately, everyone knew that his highness had sent his disciple to study the art of fatewriting as part of an individualized training, and that I would be back under his chaperone from now on. Other fatewriters glanced at me with respect. Even the Head of the Hall of Terrestial Descent, who I never met before, escorted me to the door and hoped “Miss Ziyan had enjoyed her stay and would think of him in the future”.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard it from the fairies, you know they are crazy about his highness,” Shangtian said with wide eyes.

I could barely believe it either. I still remembered the light in his eyes as he said that I was his… how the thin willow branches swayed behind him, how my heart seemed to slow to a stop and began again. Of course he meant “his” as in his disciple, but that did not stop Tudi from stomping off in anger.

I nodded as I packed the last few items from my room. The bed was stripped bare; the table lay empty. Next year, the room would welcome new candidates, and it would be mine no more. I looked around the room and felt a little nostalgic.

“I wonder what caused this sudden change,” Barette said, studying me.

I had been wondering as well. Huayu was angry up until I cried. Could it be my tears that moved him? That was a definite no. Perhaps some girls were weeping beauties, but I knew I looked like a melting tomato.

“He was testing your… your… who cares! I knew he wouldn’t pass up on having the Shenjie Champion as disciple,” Shangtian said happily.

I agreed that it didn’t matter. I couldn’t imagine what made Huayu change his mind, but I wasn’t going to complain. Ever since I met him, I had been captivated by his sadness. It was apparent in curve of his lips, the slant of his eyes, the shadow casted by his lashes. He was so proficient and capable, yet so cold and aloof. Then I learned about his past… it made me want to… I didn’t know. But the thought of learning under Huayu made me smile.

We spent the whole afternoon speculating on what Huayu would be teaching me. Shangtian leaned towards highly advance methods of harvesting chi, since he was highly cultivated in that area. Barette thought he might introduce me to hand to hand combat. I only hoped for something interesting.

But lessons with Huayu were not lessons at all. He began by taking me to the beaches of the eastern sea during sunset, followed by the snow peaks of Emei during sunrise. Then the caves of Dali, then the island of Penglai. Throughout all of this, he was silent. When I turned to him in puzzlement, I would find him watching me with a waiting look in his eyes.

“What are we doing?” I finally asked.

He didn’t answer, but his eyelids came down swiftly, leaving his face dark and blank.

He was quiet and sullen on the way back, but I noticed that he slowed his powerful strides so I could walk at ease. When we landed at Azure Vault Palace, Obe showed me my quarters. I expected it to resemble the stark, minimalist rooms of the rest of the palace but I could not be more wrong. Every surface was plastered with silk flowers. Lace draped from the ceiling and the walls. Even the floor had been painted the colors of the rainbow.

“His highness instructed me to decorate your room,” Obe quipped with a goading smirk.

“Exactly my taste!” I lied and slammed the door in his disappointed face.

I untied my bundle and began slowily laying out my dresses on the bed. Huayu… I hugged the cool, slippery fabric of a dress against myself and tried to sort out my jumbled feelings. Huayu had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me in the garden. But then the sudden change of the look in his eyes, as if a blaze had been lit! My heart pounded at the memory of him staring at me in the garden, so fervently.

I thought of facing him again, and a tingle spread through my body. How stupid I was being! As if Huayu hadn’t fluctuated in his behaviors before! Maybe tomorrow, he would be back to his icy self. Maybe tomorrow, all of this would disappear again.

I tossed the dresses aside and picked up the zither in the room. Softly, I plucked the strings to the rhythm of my feelings.

Almost immediately, the soothing tenor of the Xiao joined my song. I felt my heart beat faster as the unearthly music matched my tempo. Like a playful spider, it spun a web of sweet melancholy, mingling with my own excitement, arousing a fire inside me. But despite the cheerful notes, there was a subdued anguish of the melody that brought a lump to my throat.

I found myself rising from the zither and heading out the door towards the direction of the Xiao. I passed through the courtyard and rounded a grove of bamboos, where I saw Huayu. He was standing in front of a hut with the Xiao in one hand. The moonlight shone on his face and delineated his handsome features. The night air swept my cheeks and teased my nostrils with the scent of bamboo.

He didn’t appear surprised to see me.

“Were you playing the Xiao?” I asked stupidly. The Xiao was in his hand, but I had trouble linking the playful melody to him.

“Obe doesn’t play,” he answered indirectly.

I blushed further.

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“The moon is so beautiful,” I said, not wanting to admit that I was lured outside by his music.

He glanced at the moon and back at me.

“Where is your cloak?” He asked.

“In… in my room,” I stammered.

Warmth shrouded me immediately. He had untied his cloak and placed it around my shoulders. I could smell the faint fragrance of pine… his scent. A chill traveled down my spine.

“Hold onto me,” I heard him say above my head.

Before I could ask him to repeat himself, he wrapped his arm around my waist. The next thing I knew, the world spun. I looked up and only saw him. We were so close that I could count the lashes on his eyes. His hand felt hot on my body.

Then he released me. I took a step back, and my feet sank into sand. Sand? I snapped my head around. We were standing on sandy soil full of dips and boulders. Gone were the clouds that dotted the Shenjie landscape. Instead, the sky was awash with stars that reminded me of giant sparkling balls against a black canvas.

“We are on the moon,” Huayu said.

“The m… moon?” I sputtered. “Is this your idea of fun?”

“Fun? What is fun?” He asked with a frown. Then he burst into a grin.

I stared at him dumbfounded. It was the first time I heard him joke.

“Many deities try to come here, but the distance is too great so it remains peaceful,” he explained.

Peaceful? It was deadly quiet. But soon there was a rushing sound, like something was hurtling through air. I looked in the direction of the noise.

“Meteor!” I recognized. Grandma Fu used to say that meteors were gods descending to the land of the mortals.

Huayu raised his hand, and the meteor dropped to the ground. He flicked his finger, and the boulder split in half to reveal… a bottle of wine, a food basket, and a piece of cloth. He laid the cloth on the sand and gestured for me to sit.

“What’s happening?” I blurted out.

“What do you think is happening?” He asked me. There was a different tone in his voice. I met his waiting eyes and, suddenly, couldn’t bring myself to ask him why he was so strange.

“You are celebrating the arrival of a brilliant disciple,” I joked nervously, glancing at the bottle of ten thousand year flower wine, drunken in Shenjie only on celebrations.

He raised an eyebrow.

“If you are such a brilliant disciple, then shouldn’t the Fatewriter have seemed sadder at your departure?”

“He’s jealous that I was doing a better job than him!” I exclaimed indignantly.

A hint of a smile crept upon Huayu’s face.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

Was he inviting me to dinner? I was so startled that I forgot to answer.

He walked to the broken meteor. I watched as he whipped up dishes over the residual heat of the boulder. The ingredients had already been washed, cut, and prepared. Huayu knew how to cook? Huayu was cooking? Huayu was cooking for me on the moon?

If everyone on the Pillowbook knew…

“I always thought the moon was yellow, not gray,” I said dazedly.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he replied, stirring vegetables in a wok.

It certainly was.

It was silent again except for the sound of the wok.

“Would you like some music? I can’t cook and play at the same time, but one of my generals is excellent at pipa,” Huayu asked.

I shook my head immediately. I knew Huayu’s generals were all of the second rank or higher with countless military achievements. The thought of one of them forced to serenade me… I shuddered. Thankfully, Huayu didn’t press.

Soon, a feast was ready.

“‘Bristles of the Dragon Emperor’,” Huayu said as he pointed to a dish containing black fungus, asparagus, and carrots. “This is Mixed Rice and Pine Nuts Steamed over Pine Needles. This is ‘Pond-side Moonlight’. Your—” He paused and said, “You should like them.”

I marveled at the beautiful dishes I hadn’t heard of, whose flavors were in perfect harmony. “Even the names are clever. I would’ve named them the same way!”

Huayu’s eyes flashed. I chased the food down with a sip of the flower wine. The sweet liquid stung pleasantly as it flowed down my throat.

“No wonder so many goddesses like you. I bet every single goddess in Shenjie would be in love with you… if you weren’t so cold,” I babbled and took another sip.

“They don’t like me, they like what I represent.”

Warmth coursed through my body until my fingertips tingled. I felt a surge of courage.

“I know what you mean. People in Shenjie either look up to someone else, or look down on another. The way they treated me when I became your disciple, then not, then again. I would have gone crazy if I cared.”

I sighed as I remembered the loneliness the days after being thrown out of his palace.

“But I did care a little. I was deathly jealous of my friends.”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes shone.

“Thank you for apologizing, but you had your reasons and I got my revenge,” I replied, and quickly added, “which I already apologized for.”

“What was your life like before coming to Shenjie?” He asked softly.

I thought about the place I grew up and the villagers.

“You wouldn’t want to hear a village girl’s tales,” I replied. “The average mortal life is unlike scripts written for mortacations.”

“A simple hut, a life free from worldly concerns, I would want nothing more,” he said.

“Surely you can have that if you want,” I said.

The look of reverie left his face.

“You would be shocked at what little I can have. I was taught to be pragmatic rather than emotional,” he murmured. He was staring at me again. My heart rate increased. “But I do have the heart for one.”

He said it carelessly, but I felt as if the comment was directed towards me. My heart sank. I remembered his fiancé. He was warning me, to not be like those goddesses, to not do anything that would embarrass us both. Suddenly, the perfectly-seasoned food tasted like sawdust.

There was a silence. Under his watchful gaze, I took a big swig of the wine.

He snatched the bottle away.

“It might taste sweet, but it is still wine.”

“Can gods fall in love?” I mumbled.

He seemed to peer at me, as though wondering the meaning behind my words.

“Mortals are bound to fall in love like they are bound to be born and die. For gods, it becomes a bit complicated. Passion clouds our judgment. Our responsibilities don’t allow that kind of lapse, but yes, gods fall in love,” I heard him say.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” I was blabbing now.

Huayu set down his chopsticks.

“I believe that every encounter is the result of years in the making,” he answered.

“So if we were meant to be, fate would make it happen,” I finished in my head. At that instant, I decided to bury my feelings for him. He wouldn’t ever find out that I liked him and then ignore me like he ignored everyone else.

Huayu was blurry now, but I could still make out the frown on his face. He drew a swift breath.

“If someone hurt you in the past, would you forgive him?” He asked slowly.

“There is a saying in my village, a good horse does not eat the grass behind it... I would want a new beginning,” I mumbled.

He was silent for a moment.

“You are not a horse. You are more like a porcupine,” he analyzed. “Full of spike, with a fiery temper—”

“That was days ago,” I protested.

“Don’t feel embarrassed. I didn’t say it was a flaw.”

I smiled at him stupidly. I could no longer make out his expression. There were now two of him… no four, maybe six.

“If I’m a porcupine, then what are you?” I slurred.

“I’m greedy. Too greedy to let you forget.”

I wanted to tell him I had excellent memory, but my eyes closed before I could.