“That is out of my hands.” His voice was tinged with regret.

My mother glared at him. “What do you want with us?”

“You should not have attempted to defy His Celestial Majesty’s orders. You were commanded to remain here to await his justice. Disregarding his edict is a grave offense, as is attacking the emperor’s chosen general,” Wugang said solemnly.

“Justice?” I repeated with scorn. “Should we have waited here to be imprisoned?”

“It is not I who passes judgment,” he replied. “I am but a servant to His Celestial Majesty.”

“False pride does not suit you.” I jerked my head toward the laurel. “You told the emperor of this place. You turned his gaze here and poisoned him against us.”

He did not deny my claims, addressing my mother instead. “Those who rebel will face worse punishment. Rest assured that I will beseech the emperor for clemency on your behalf. However, your daughter possesses a rebellious streak that must be quelled.”

“I need no favors from you,” my mother said in glacial tones. “Especially those that will harm my kin.”

Wugang spread his hands wide. “Come, Chang’e. Let us not be at odds. There are not many of us in existence—mortals who ascended to the skies. Who else might we trust if not each other?”

A strange note rang in his voice: Cajoling. Almost hopeful. I did not think it was lust; he did not look at my mother with desire. Did he feel a connection with her because of her mortal heritage? Was he lonely? After all, he had little reason to think well of immortals, his sole company in all these centuries. And everyone he had cared for in the world below had died.

“Trust?” My mother’s chin tilted up. “When you attacked my family, lied to us, and seized our home?”

He stiffened, his fingers tightening around the bamboo handle in his grip. Was this the same axe he had stolen from the immortal? The one stained with his wife’s blood?

“Why do you use the flute for the handle?” While my question stemmed from curiosity and the urge to divert his attention from my mother, I wanted to glean some insight into his mind. The surest way to defeat an enemy was to learn how they moved, their innermost thoughts and fears.

“It was a gift from someone unworthy. A reminder to never place my trust in another again.” Bitterness thickened his voice, along with something else—a tinge of regret?

“You said your wife liked to hear you play. She gave you the flute … and you killed her with it,” I said slowly, my stomach roiling with revulsion.

Wugang’s lips pulled into a taut smile. “You seem curious about my weapon.”

“I heard you spent a long time chopping a tree with it.” I spoke with deliberate insult, trying to goad him into rashness.

“How would someone like you hear of such things?”