Authors: Cindy. Pon
“You got wet, did you?” Li Rong chuckled.
She covered her cheek with one hand. “The water stings,”
she said, unable to explain the pain beyond that.
Chen Yong gently pulled her hand aside to examine her face, while Li Rong held the gilded lantern close. “It bores 101
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a hole into the skin,” Chen Yong said, his voice quiet with shock.
“What?” Ai Ling asked. Tears streaked down her face.
The pain was so intense she could barely think. She was too afraid to touch the wound and turned her face from the young men.
“I see you have met my water pets,” said a voice from within the cave.
A thin man approached with a torch in one hand. He wore his white hair in a single queue and a square gold cap on his head. He was attired in robes of the same color, a sash of bright crimson tied at the waist. Silk pouches in various colors hung from it.
“Come, Ai Ling. Let us apply the antidote to your cheek before you lose part of that pretty face . . . and more.” His commanding presence discouraged any questions as they followed him into the cave. She stumbled as her tears blinded her, biting her lip hard to keep from sobbing aloud.
Chen Yong took her elbow and guided her.
The man pulled a jar from the cave wall as if he had conjured it. He pinched something between two long fingers, stepped up to Ai Ling, and rubbed the substance into her cheek. “Did the water touch you elsewhere?” he asked.
She showed him her hand, and he pinched more thin flakes from the clear jar and applied them to her burning fingers. “The pain should cease immediately. And you will heal as if you were never hurt.” He smiled at her, eye to 102
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eye. Even as he spoke, the searing agony faded. “I hope this teaches you to not look where you shouldn’t.”
“You knew my name.” The realization hit her long after he had said it, her mind was so crushed by the pain.
“Master Tan spoke of you when I was called to his manor. I performed purity rites throughout the home,” the seer said.
Ai Ling’s thought flew to the new writings and characters plastered on the Tan manor’s main door. They must have been part of the purity rites, to ward off evil and cleanse the home.
“I am Lao Pan, an old friend to Master Tan. Please follow me.”
Lao Pan’s bright torch threw glimmers of light across the incandescent walls of the cave. After walking only a short distance, they were outside again.
It was a natural courtyard, oval in shape, nestled within the mountainside, with a small house tucked against the steep rock face at the back. A welcoming fire glowed in the middle of the wide-open space.
“We have no fresh grass, but there is hay for your horse.”
Lao Pan pointed toward what looked like a small stable. Li Rong led Feng there, speaking softly all the while. The seer swept an arm toward stone benches under a giant starfruit tree, and the weary travelers seated themselves.
“It’s a breach within the mountainside. Nature shaped a perfect facade for my humble home,” Lao Pan said. A boy of about thirteen years emerged from the house with a tray of tea. “My grandson, Rui. Also my apprentice.”
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“Did you carve the tiger head into the mountainside?”
Chen Yong asked.
“Ancestors did. This place has been used by my family to pass on the art for many centuries.”
Ai Ling wondered what he meant by “the art,” but the seer spoke as if everyone should know, so she didn’t ask. “Were those enchanted fountains at the cave entrance?” she asked instead.
Lao Pan chuckled. “No, no. My water pets are fish caught from the Sea of Zhen.”
“Fish! That speak?” She touched her cheek. The skin felt smooth now, the pain completely gone.
“Indeed. They are mentioned in
The Book of Lands Beyond
.
But scholars often read it as myth.” Lao Pan smiled as if amused by the foolishness of it. “The Zhen fish spit venom.
The poison will eat flesh to the bone, then spread if not treated.”
A cool sweat broke over her brow. She could have died, slowly eaten away by venom until her entire body was nothing but agonizing pain and corrosion. As if reading her thoughts, the seer continued. “I keep the antidote at the cave entrance. It’s the scales of the fi sh themselves.”
“But I didn’t see any fish,” she said, her hand still pressed against her cheek.
“You wouldn’t. They conceal themselves to their environs.
It’s why I laid colored stones at the bottom of the fountains,”
Lao Pan said.
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Chen Yong shook his head in amazement. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw that canker growing in Ai Ling’s cheek.”
She was glad she hadn’t seen it herself. The image would have been nearly as frightening as the pain.
“Have you not heard the tale behind these creatures?” Lao Pan asked.
“I’ve read some from
The Book of Lands Beyond
,” Chen Yong said.
“It’s not a tale Father ever shared,” she said.
Li Rong joined them on the stone bench. They could hear Feng’s contented snorts.
“It’s a love story, as so many of them are.” Lao Pan smiled.
“Emperor Yeh, from many dynasties past, collected women for his pleasure as one would collect trinkets. He had more than one thousand concubines sequestered in his inner quarters, but it wasn’t enough.”
Rui returned with warm, wet cloths for the travelers. Ai Ling was relieved to wipe her face.
Lao Pan continued with the tale, his gaze intent on the fire.
“One day an official near the borders visited. He brought his wife. She was sixteen years and of mixed blood—her mother from some frigid kingdom in the north, with hair so pale it was near white and eyes the color of warm seas.”
Ai Ling sneaked a glance toward Chen Yong. He was leaning forward, relaxed, captivated by the story.
“The Emperor executed this diplomat and took his wife.
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He went mad over the woman. Convinced that she would be taken from him, he exiled her to a small island in the Sea of Zhen. He asked the powerful sorcerers of his court to shroud the island in mist so no one could find her. And the fish of Zhen were created, to kill any person who approached. They were given voice so they could call out a warning to the Emperor as well as report to him when he visited.
“But the Emperor was so delirious for her he neglected his duties, instead spending all his time on this hidden island.
When he finally returned to the Palace, he was poisoned by his closest adviser.”
“What happened to the beautiful woman?” Li Rong asked.
“She was forgotten. Left on the small island hidden in mist to die alone. A victim of her own beauty and the Emperor’s demented love for her,” Lao Pan said.
“Ah.” Li Rong sounded disappointed.
Ai Ling felt the same. This was no enchanted love story—
it was too tragic and real. She felt immediate sympathy for the woman, kept prisoner because of the Emperor’s deranged love. Why were women always seen as things to be possessed by men in these tales, never worth more than their physical beauty?
The seer clasped his hands together and stood, his golden robes shimmering before the flames. “Rest assured you can sleep in this courtyard in comfort and safety. It nears the 106
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thieving hour. I think it best we all retire for the night and talk more tomorrow.”
Rui emerged from the house with three thin pallets. The tired travelers made their beds in a semicircle near the fire, like pack animals seeking warmth. The pallet was cozier than Ai Ling expected, and although she wanted to mull over everything that had happened that day, her exhausted body did not allow it. She fell asleep even before bidding a peaceful night to her companions.
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