Chapter 2

About fifteen feet separated Zeyue and me.

When I offered no reaction, the displeasure between his brows deepened. “Fanyin, why have you not paid your respects?”

I was livid. Pay my respects? If I had been able to beat him, I would have kicked him straight off the terrace.

I gave the shallowest curtsy possible. “Welcome back, High God.”

His black eyes fixed on me, his frown deep enough to crush a mosquito. Then his expression softened with uncharacteristic warmth. He reached behind himself and drew the woman out, looking down at her while addressing every immortal present.

“This young lady is Qingzhi. We met during my mortal trial. Without her help, I could not have returned successfully. I promised I would bring her to heaven.”

Qingzhi blushed under everyone’s gaze and tried to burrow back into his arms. Zeyue curved one arm protectively around her and guided her toward me.

“Fanyin, your Hall of Celestial Music has many attendants. Qingzhi will stay there for now.”

Before I could answer, Qingzhi stole a glance at me, dropped to her knees, and cried, “Sister Fanyin, thank you for taking me in. I have no roots or support in heaven. If you are willing to help me, I will be forever grateful!”

Two streams of tears ran down her cheeks.

What a pitiful mortal woman, alone and helpless. And that meant I was supposed to be the fool who paid for everything?

Behind me, hot-tempered Gu Se snapped, “Who do you think you are? You are not worthy to call our mistress your sister.”

Zeyue’s blazing gaze bore down on her. I stepped between them.

“What is the meaning of this, Fanyin?”

I curled my lips. “Was Gu Se wrong? What exactly is this Miss Qingzhi that she should presume to call me sister?”

The same scene had occurred in my dream. Desperate to see Zeyue, I had rushed up before his divine radiance even faded and affectionately called him Brother Zeyue. When he asked me to house Qingzhi, I had agreed rather than embarrass him before the other immortals.

This time, I did not give a damn about saving his face.

I stopped two steps from the kneeling Qingzhi. She flinched violently and began to tremble. Such acting. Only an idiot would fall for it.

I paced around her, studying her with deliberate scrutiny. Her performance gradually faltered, and at last she forgot to shake.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Zeyue stepped forward to shield her, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“The High God wishes me to admit Miss Qingzhi into my hall. Naturally, I must test her first and discover exactly what she is.”

Still circling, I asked, “Which sect did you study under in the mortal realm, Miss Qingzhi? By what path did you enter cultivation, and for how many years have you practiced?”

She lowered her head. “I… have never cultivated.”

I arched a brow and raised my voice. “Never? Then I understand. You must possess immense merit. Have you saved tens of thousands from disaster?”

Qingzhi stammered, bit her lip, and turned tearful eyes on Zeyue in silent appeal.

He immediately stepped forward. A gale rose around him, and his voice cracked beside my ear like thunder. “Fanyin! You go too far! I brought Qingzhi here to fulfill my promise. Question me if you must.”

He advanced beneath the crushing battle aspect of a High God.

I governed music and was no warrior, yet I felt no fear.

“You are the one going too far, Zeyue!”

I stepped forward as my own divine aspect answered my call. A magnificent robe of gold and crimson wrapped around me, red silk floating from my wrists. The cries of phoenixes filled the air as celestial music surged.

“The Emperor still rules this heaven. Even injured and asleep, he is not dead. Other High Gods live in seclusion, and natural-born deities remain. You do not have the authority to discipline me.”

I took another step.

“The laws of heaven require mortals to cultivate for decades or accumulate immense merit before ascending. Even those born in this realm must start at the bottom and labor for centuries before they can face tribulation and rise in rank. Natural deities each fulfill their ordained duty, and without a rare opportunity, some never advance at all.

“Yet for your private desire, you brought to heaven a mortal who has neither cultivated nor earned merit. What does that make of every person who struggled for the right to ascend? Is High God Zeyue so mighty that sharing one mortal trial with you is enough to carry someone straight to heaven? If so, why did you not bring the parents who gave birth to your mortal body, or your mortal brothers and sisters? Were they unworthy?”

My words rang clear and hard. A vigorous power rose through me, holding me steady beneath Zeyue’s pressure and spreading outward in invisible waves.

To Bochuan and Fuling, Zeyue’s old friends and fellow warrior immortals, my voice rang like a temple chime dispersing an enchantment. Facts they had ignored or rationalized snapped back into focus.

They summoned their own battle aspects and flanked me.

“Privately bringing a mortal to heaven is already a violation of law,” one said.

“Trying to crush Immortal Lady Fanyin with your battle aspect is beneath contempt,” said the other.

“If you insist upon fighting today, do not blame us for opposing you.”

I hid my surprise. In my dream, neither man would ever have stood with me. I had not quite been condemned by every soul in heaven, but it had been close. Their support proved the story could change.

After a tense stalemate, Zeyue withdrew his aspect, and the rest of us followed. He stared at me with emotions too tangled to interpret—and I had no interest in trying.

Finally, he pulled Qingzhi to her feet. “I did not consider this thoroughly, but a promise once made cannot be casually broken. It is said that when the reclusive Immortal Ziyun comprehended the Heavenly Dao and ascended, he pitied the chickens and dogs in his courtyard. He shared his merit and carried them into heaven with him. Today, I will follow his example and give Qingzhi a hundred years of my merit.”

I could not resist. “A hundred years of merit? You make ascension sound as cheap as cabbage.”

Zeyue gave me a long look. “Qingzhi will live in my palace, and I will personally teach her to cultivate.”

He was determined to keep her in heaven. I could not force her back to the mortal realm, but the outcome still satisfied me. If Qingzhi never entered my hall, many events from my dream could not occur.

“Do as you please,” I said. “But remember that every meal, garment, and cultivation resource she uses must come from your private stores. She will hold no office or rank. She will take neither another person’s resources nor a place meant for a legitimate ascendant.”

Then I turned and walked away.

Several peaceful months passed after the confrontation at the terrace. With the heroine kept out of my hall, I was spared a great deal of trouble.

One day, my sisters and I were laughing in the courtyard while lively Pipa Ge stood in the center, solemnly imitating my heroic performance.

She raised her brows and roared, “You are the one going too far, Zeyue!”

Help. I had not looked that theatrical.

Pipa Ge clapped. “I don’t care. It was magnificent. Wasn’t it satisfying?”

“Incredibly,” Meng Sheng said.

Yuan Xiao sighed. “I wish I had painted Zeyue’s face. I could admire his shock every day.”

Gu Se added, “Mistress, you were always too kind to him. He thought the Hall of Celestial Music was easy prey. The way he ordered you around made me want to tear off his mouth and grind it under my heel.”

“And cut out his eyes,” Qin Yu said. “They are only decoration on his face anyway.”

Within moments, my sisters had verbally chopped Zeyue into pieces.

After the laughter died down, I found an excuse to send them away, grabbed the bundle I had secretly packed, and fled for the mortal realm without looking back.

Forgive me, sisters. After seeing the nightmare that awaited us, I had to prepare for the worst.

In my dream, the heroine benefited from the immortal bone torn from my body.

This time, I intended to ruin that bone myself. Let them see what they could dig out of me then.

The mortal realm was delightful. I had not visited since the last time I visited, after all.

Three months passed in the blink of an eye.

“Fanyin, stop indulging yourself. Do not forget why you came down here,” I solemnly reminded myself.

Then I spent another day indulging myself.

I sat dejectedly on a cloud and let the wind carry me toward the next mortal kingdom. It was not that I lacked determination. My standards were simply very high.

To destroy the supposed purity required by the Glazed Immortal Bone, I needed a mortal man’s help. If I did not like his face, I could hardly bring myself to touch him.

I had inspected plenty of handsome men, but something was always missing.

When the wind stopped, I descended into a bustling city and headed, as usual, for its most luxurious pleasure house.

Before I reached the door, a tortured burst of music assaulted my ears. I stopped in disbelief.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible. I had spent centuries spreading music through the mortal world. How could anyone be this tone-deaf?

“Merciful heavens, which accursed fool has forced Young Lord Gu to play again?” an old vendor cried, hands clapped over her ears. “Are they torturing him or the rest of us?”

I leaned toward her. “Who is Young Lord Gu?”

Still covering her ears, she pursed her lips toward a second-floor window. “He lives in that room. I tell you, he—huh? Where did you go?”

I flashed straight upstairs.

A door burst open before I could move again. Several richly dressed men surrounded someone seated at a zither. One dragged him to his feet and threw him hard onto the floor.

“Our young marquis used to excel in both letters and arms. The greatest prodigy in the capital, composing poetry at three! You have spent a year in a brothel, yet you still cannot learn one little tune?”

The man on the floor remained silent, head bowed beneath a curtain of black hair.

Angered by the lack of response, his tormentor ground a heel over his fingers, then seized his hair and forced his face up. “I am speaking to you. Are you deaf?”

I drew a sharp breath.

The man wore white, his hair black as ink. Phoenix eyes tilted slightly in a face like carved jade, yet the dark pupils seemed utterly lifeless. Below a straight nose, his beautifully shaped lips were pale pink.

Even his tormentor faltered beneath that abyssal stare. Jealousy replaced uncertainty. He flung the man’s hair aside, snatched up a cup of wine, and threw it in his face.

“That face is all you have left. No wonder you sell your body.”

The man turned his head on instinct, revealing a flawless profile. Wine beaded on his skin and fell from lashes lowered like fans.

For some reason, my mind supplied a breathy little voice: Oh, how cold.

In reality, he made no sound. From beginning to end, he showed no emotion, as though the person being tormented was someone else entirely.

My cheeks warmed.

There it was. That was what I had been searching for.

A beautiful, powerful, tragic man.