Wenzhi strode past me, then stopped. As he swung around, our eyes collided—a tingling rush coursing through me like my skin was brushed with morning dew, a breath of autumn, the fall of new snow. Caught staring, heat flushed the back of my neck. He blinked, taken aback by the intensity of my gaze. No smile stretched across his face; no recognition dawned. He looked just as he did the first time we met: Cold. Unapproachable. Disinterested.

The young man clutching the horse’s reins, bowed to him deferentially. “Minister Zhao.”

As Wenzhi nodded in acknowledgment, I searched for something to say to capture his interest, to stop him from leaving, but then he came toward me, his steps halting as though fighting the impulse.

“I do not mean to offend you, but have we met before?” His manner was guarded.

My mind went blank. “Yes. Long ago. You would not remember.”

His eyes narrowed. “I apologize that I cannot place you. I would not have forgotten.”

Were those hollow words of courtesy? Or was there something more in the dip of his voice, the way his eyes lingered on my face?

A lady appeared through the doorway, moving toward him. Her face was shaped like a teardrop, a sprinkling of freckles across the slender bridge of her nose, her lustrous hair coiled elegantly upon her head. In the crook of her elbow nestled the handle of a three-tiered lacquered basket that she held out to Wenzhi. “Your breakfast. Don’t forget to eat this time.”

His wife, who else might she be? Something pierced my chest, searing deeper when Wenzhi thanked her, his lips forming a familiar smile. I had no right to feel this way. He had forgotten me, built a new life for himself where he had fallen in love, married, perhaps even fathered children. My joy should have been complete that he lived, that he had found happiness here. It should have been enough, more than enough … if I were a better person. But I was a jealous and selfish creature, fighting to quell this burst of irrational emotion. Wenzhi had loved me, he had died for me—except I had not wanted his love then and he did not remember me now. I wanted to laugh and weep at the way fate had twisted us around until I was torn between wanting to embrace him and the urge to kick him in the shin. How could I have hoped for him to remain mine when he had forgotten my name? When I had faded to an elusive shadow in his mind, the echo of a song he would never recall. At least, not in his mortal lifetime.

Perhaps sensing my avid interest, the lady glanced at me curiously before turning back to Wenzhi. After exchanging a few more hushed words with him, she returned to the house.