Chapter 3

After coaxing answers out of Number Four all night, I finally understood our circumstances.

Every ten years, the Changheng Sect went to the mortal realm in search of ten girls who possessed spiritual roots and had been born between the first and fifteenth days of the seventh lunar month. Once brought into the sect, they could never leave.

Their families knew they would never see their daughters again.

But joining the Changheng Sect brought prestige, and the sect offered generous compensation. Plenty of families were therefore willing to send their daughters away.

What none of them knew was that these girls possessed innately yin constitutions. The sect would help them cultivate using a special art, then send them to the altar when they turned eighteen. There, a special formation used them to reinforce the sect’s spiritual veins and supply it with spiritual energy.

The sect’s disciples called them “Holy Maidens.”

To those disciples, the Holy Maidens had high cultivation, lofty status, no need to travel for training as they did, and all the resources they could want.

In truth, how long a Holy Maiden lived depended entirely on how many sacrificial rites she could endure.

Number Four accepted all of this without complaint.

In the days that followed, she took me to soak in the cold spring and absorb the essence of sun and moon each day. She spent most of the remaining time sitting in our room, embroidering.

Then the fifteenth came again—the day of our monthly visit to the altar.

When I pushed open the door, I found Number Four embroidering a moon-white robe. The golden peonies upon it were nearly finished.

“Are you done? The sect has sent people to fetch us.”

“Almost.”

“I don’t understand why you embroider these things every day. The sect gives us more cloth than we could ever use.”

Number Four said nothing. She cut the thread, shook out the robe, and held it against me. “How beautiful. The clothes are lovely, and the person even lovelier. Come, try it on.”

I instinctively refused. “You don’t have to… I received plenty of dresses last time. Keep this one for yourself.”

Number Four insisted on draping it over me. When she had finished, she smiled and said, “This may be the last garment I ever embroider for you.”

My refusal died on my lips.

Neither of us spoke on the road from our room to the altar.

The closer we drew, the heavier the chill in the air became.

Number Four’s face grew paler as well.

The massive doors slowly opened before us. I looked back at her and said with sudden resolve, “Why don’t you stay outside?”

Perhaps the words were too far out of character. Number Four stared at me in surprise.

“It’s getting late. Once the sacrifice is over, I’ll embroider a perfume pouch for you.”

She stepped inside.

I watched her retreating figure and sighed.

Once again, I reminded myself:

This was an illusion.

It was a past that had already happened.

I could not change a thing.