He spoke plainly, haltingly, his voice catching a little over the words—and this moved me more than any practiced declaration. I could not feign ignorance of his intentions; he had implied them a hundred different ways. I had tried to avoid this, cravenly preferring to tread the surface of what we were, rather than risk drowning in its depths again.

Something else pierced me, something unexpected—a sliver of joy that he loved me still. Amid the rubble of our ruined dreams flickered the embers of something that could not be extinguished, no matter how I had tried. I had loved him, and then despised him—I believed I would hate him forever. Yet how could I truly hate someone who had saved me, whose life I had saved in turn, whom I had loved once? As I stared at his face, so grave and solemn, heat flashed through me at the recollection of our kiss—beyond desire, there was something else that frightened me, that could destroy all I had fought for if it was unleashed again.

My pulse quickened, an erratic pace. I almost despised myself for these thoughts, a betrayal of Liwei and myself. But I could not deny these feelings, nor should I be ashamed of them—for they were a part of who I was. The heart was an unfathomable thing that could not be tamed to one’s will. Some might think I was toying with them. That I was selfish, or a fool? In truth, I hurt too, for with my heart cleaved I would lose either way. Breathing deeply, I reined in my emotions. I could not allow such distractions to cloud my mind or weaken my resolve … to make me want things I could not afford.

“I will not.” I ignored the pang in my chest. “We have no future together.”

He stiffened. “Because of Liwei?”

I shook my head. “Because regardless of my feelings—I could never trust you again, not in the way that matters.”

“You are unforgiving, Xingyin.” A trace of sadness threaded his tone.

I lifted my head. “There are worse things to be.”

The light in his gaze dwindled, like the fading of stars come dawn. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“I thank you too.” A sudden tightness pressed around me, a hollow gaping within. A door shut, a path untrodden. A future unlived.

“What do we do now?” I asked. “How do we persuade your father to give us the scroll?”

“My father expects a wedding, so we will have to give him one.” His smile did not reach his eyes. “Try not to look so distraught at the prospect of marrying me, Xingyin. A wedding need not mean a marriage.”