“Houyi, you are so somber,” my mother teased him before her expression darkened. “While we speak of years ‘lost,’ how could you let me think you were dead? Did you enjoy watching me weep at your grave? Hearing my prayers for you? If I had known, I would have put salt instead of sugar in the cakes I made for your offerings.”

He laughed, a full sound that warmed me deeply. “They would have tasted just as sweet. I ate them all after you had gone, though the familiarity of their taste was a bitter consolation.” He paused. “As for your prayers, I heard nothing from where I hid. They would have been a comfort to me, they would have given me hope that you still cared.”

“Why else did you think I went to your grave?” she demanded.

“From duty? Guilt? After decades of disappointment, I had no reason to hope. I didn’t know you could not come. I tried to stay away, but I confess to going whenever I could. When I saw you again, part of me dared to dream once more. However, too much time had passed; I could not bind you to an old man.” As he cupped her cheek with his hand, she leaned into it.

“I would not have cared. I would have known you anywhere,” she whispered. “If we were old and gray, it would be the mark of a life well spent.”

“Yes, if we grew old and gray together—but we did not. With the little time I had left, I believed it better that way, rather than reopening old wounds. I wanted you to remember me as I was.”

It was a hard choice he had made, to cut himself from us like the ailing part of a plant without which the rest would thrive. And I understood how he had felt, because his pride lay in me too.

Someone knocked. Unexpected, as we had few visitors. Since our arrival, Queen Suihe had left us alone, as though she had forgotten we were here. We had gladly kept to ourselves, shunning all banquets and festivities, only emerging today for Ping’er’s funeral. As I probed the auras before opening the doors, relief and apprehension swirled through me.

Liwei and Wenzhi entered. From their hostile expressions and the way they stood stiffly apart, this was a wholly unwelcome coincidence. Liwei’s gaze slid from my father to me, his expression solemn. A sudden realization sank over me that while I had been reunited with my family, he was torn from his and hunted by his own father.

Liwei inclined his head in greeting, cupping his hands before him. “Master Houyi, it is an honor to meet you.”

Wenzhi shot me a sidelong glare, an unspoken reproach for keeping him in the dark—then he bowed too. “Master Houyi, your return brings great joy to your family.”