IT WAS A CLOUDLESS morning, the sky a brilliant azure. Liwei and I sat inside the pavilion in the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility. The waterfall rumbled into the pond, peach blossom petals drifting from the trees. Liwei waved away the attendant, lifting the teapot to refill my cup—just as he used to when we studied together, when it was just the two of us. The attendant’s gaze lingered on him with reverent admiration as he bowed, leaving us alone.

“It is the autumn season in the Mortal Realm,” Liwei said.

I nodded, returning his smile. As he set my cup before me, his sleeve brushed my hand, the embroidered silver herons soaring through the blue brocade. His hair was pulled into a gold and sapphire headpiece, just like the one he used to wear. I could almost imagine we were heading to the Chamber of Reflection after this, instead of the Hall of Eastern Light where Liwei governed the realm. Emperor in all but name.

He handed me a wooden box, painted with a woman in green robes, a crimson sash around her waist and gold ornaments in her hair. Clouds swirled around her feet, a silver orb gleaming above.

I traced my fingers over it. My mother, the Moon Goddess, as depicted by the mortals. As I pried the lid open, a rich, honeyed scent slipped out. Four golden-brown mooncakes were nestled within, their tops molded into a pattern of dragons and phoenixes. Liwei lifted one out and with a small knife sliced it into eight plump wedges. He offered one to me, a vermilion crescent of egg yolk glistening from the dark-brown filling. The lotus-seed paste was dense and sweet, the crust crumbling against my tongue. The yolk added a salty grittiness that cut through the sweetness, balancing the flavors perfectly. I closed my eyes as I chewed, imagining the mortals eating this as they listened to the tale of Houyi and the ten suns, and of Chang’e flying to the moon. A tightness clutched me; a longing to see my parents.

“Liwei, I want to go home. I cannot stay here.” As I spoke, an urgency rushed through me. This was the way out from the nightmares that haunted me—to get away from the Jade Palace with its endless ceremonies and rules, the courtiers and attendants, the burdens of the kingdom.

His face paled, his fingers curling on the table. “Xingyin, I was going to ask you to marry me. My father is retiring to a life of isolation. He asked me to ascend the throne, to become the emperor.”

I stared at him blankly, something tightening around my chest like I was being suffocated. This had always been his heritage, but even when I had dreamed of a future with him, I thought we had centuries more until his father relinquished the throne. It had been my one hope and consolation.