Chapter 3

Spring passed into autumn. Cuicui grew much taller, no longer thin as a bean sprout.

When we carried water together, one end no longer hung lower than the other.

Winter was bitter. Our quarters were as cold as an ice cellar, so we burrowed under one quilt and warmed each other with our bodies.

Her bones pressed against my hands. Resting my chin on her shoulder, I suddenly remembered years ago.

I had been seven or eight then. Li Qi and I had shared a bed like this too.

She was two years older. She held me as though I were a doll, her voice close to my ear.

“Jiujiu, do you know what our tutor told us today? There was a woman general in the previous dynasty, Fang Jingshan.

“A woman, and she defeated countless enemies. They made her Prince of Changle. I want to be someone like that.”

I nuzzled against her. “All right. But you have to take me with you. You can be the prince, and I’ll be your chancellor.”

She looked down at me. “Of course. Whatever I do, I’ll take you with me.”

I nodded hard. She hugged me tighter. “Oh, I hate wearing those dresses all day, and all that jewelry in my hair. If only I could just tie my hair up under a crown like a man.”

I only half understood, but it didn’t sound particularly difficult.

Not long afterward, Grandmother gave her a shimmering dress.

I stood up. “I want that dress.”

I took everything she hated. The dresses, the jewelry, the fiancé.

It was no great sacrifice. I’d always liked those things myself.

But she had promised to take me with her, whatever she did.

Where was she?

Sihai Zi had formally renamed Divine Sword Mountain’s young Martial Aunt. Li Qi was now Li Shen’ai.

Shen’ai.

Beloved of the gods.

How well it suited her. Heavenly-grade roots, scarcely seen in a hundred years, a thousand years—a born prodigy of cultivation.

When the gods made her, surely they had tucked love into every corner of her eyes, every sweep of her brows.

I no longer had the heart or the ability to compare myself to her.

She had changed her name. I wanted to change mine too.

Cuicui and I went into the mountains to cut firewood. The spirit plants were thick and hard, terribly difficult to chop.

Sweat poured off me as I swung the axe. “Do you think people like us really have no chance of cultivating?”

She laughed. “Of course we have a chance. Why wouldn’t we?”

I perked up at once. “How?”

She tapped my forehead. “All we need is some great blessing to fall out of the sky—”

Bah. What nonsense.

Would anyone blessed by fortune still be here?

Cuicui’s father sent word through an outer disciple.

Her mother was gravely ill. Her brother had married, but his wife had died in childbirth, leaving a nursing infant that cried all day. So very pitiful.

But where was Cuicui supposed to get money?

Servants worked for nothing. We’d never received a single coin.

That night we held each other. In the winter cold, when even our breath seemed to freeze, she shook all over.

But I knew it wasn’t only the cold.

I lowered my voice. “They sold you. Why should you care what happens to them?”

Her tears rubbed off on my shoulder. I didn’t understand. And yet, a little, I did.

Li Qi—no, Li Shen’ai now.

Li Shen’ai never asked after me. But if she fell ill, I couldn’t simply stand by.

Perhaps she had her reasons?

Cuicui must have been thinking the same thing.

She must have invented countless excuses for her mother.

Perhaps she was trapped, unable to act. Perhaps she hadn’t known how hard life was here. Perhaps she simply hadn’t had a chance. Perhaps…

Perhaps what? Damn Li Shen’ai. Damn her.

I held Cuicui. “Go to sleep. Unless you harden your heart, you’ll never have a good life.”