Feigned concern. Gloating commiseration. False sympathy. As hollow as those puppets wielded by street performers in the mortal world. If I had detected a fragment of genuine care, I would not have resented them so. But all that spurred their interest was greed, for a scrap of gossip to share. How my fingers had itched to draw my bow, summoning a bolt of lightning to send them fleeing from our hall. I would not have released it but the mere threat would have sufficed. Only my mother’s glare and the manners she had instilled in me since I was young kept me fixed to my chair.

Yet better by far their idle curiosity than those with malice in their hearts.

A crash rang out, something shattering against stone. Lifting my skirt, I sprinted toward the Pure Light Palace. Each time my feet hit the ground, kicking up clumps of powdery earth, the Jade Dragon Bow thumped against my back. Liwei’s footsteps were never far behind as he ran after me.

Shining walls rose ahead, then the mother-of-pearl columns. I stumbled to a halt by the entrance, examining the porcelain fragments strewn on the floor, drenched in a pool of pale-gold liquid. A sweet and mellow fragrance wafted in the air, soothing and languorous. Wine, though we kept no stores of it here.

Liwei and I stalked through the doors, along the corridor that led to the Silver Harmony Hall where visitors were received. Jade lamps cast their soft glow upon the strangers, seated in wooden chairs around my mother. As I entered, their heads swung my way as they rose to their feet.

The jade tassels on my mother’s vermilion sash clinked as she came toward us. “Liwei, we have not seen you for a while,” she said warmly, dropping his title as he had long urged her to.

“Forgive me for my lengthy absence.” He bent his head in courtesy.

As I greeted our guests, I studied them in turn. Their auras were not strong, which meant any trouble could be easily subdued, nor were there any ominous flashes of metal or subtle thrums of magic held at the ready—only discernible if one was searching for them. A frail immortal stood beside my mother. His eyes were the shade of a sparrow’s coat and his hair and beard gleamed silver. A bamboo flute with a green tassel hung from his waist. Beside him were two women in lilac robes with turquoise pins in their hair. The hands they lifted in greeting were smooth and unblemished, that had never wielded a weapon or done a day’s work. I breathed easier until I caught sight of the last guest. The hard planes of his features seemed like they were chiseled from wood, while his neck was corded with muscle. Beneath his fine brocade robe, his shoulders were thrown wide, yet his fingers twitched restlessly.