Wenzhi bowed his head as he intoned formally, “May she find peace in eternity. May you and your mother find the strength to overcome your sorrow.” He reached out a hand to me, then pulled it back, his fingers closing into a fist.

Shuxiao hugged me tightly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll miss her too.”

Grief clawed me, endless recriminations ringing through my mind. If only we had fled sooner, if only I had been swifter—I might have killed Wugang before. Had I treated him with the same mercilessness as he showed Ping’er, his blood would be bathing the laurel and Ping’er would be alive.

“Where should we go?” Shuxiao asked as she released me.

“To my home. You will be safe from the Celestial Emperor there,” Wenzhi offered.

I recoiled from his suggestion, despite the sense in it. Once, he had brought me to the Cloud Wall against my will, and I had no desire to ever return. Even if Wenzhi truly wanted to aid us, what of his ruthless father? His vile brother? My nails dug into my palm. No, I would not thrust us into that nest of vipers. I would not lay Ping’er to rest there, in a strange place she had feared all her life.

Would you bring me home? Her words echoed through me, cutting through the fog of misery.

“We have to bring Ping’er back to the Southern Sea,” I said flatly.

Wenzhi frowned. “Queen Suihe is neither benevolent nor tolerant. She will not harbor you if she knows you are wanted by the Celestial Emperor; she will see you as a threat to her people.”

I did not expect a warm welcome from the queen. Fugitives, with neither friend nor kin there. The bearers of ill tidings. Yet Ping’er had never asked for anything before. This was a paltry request when she deserved so much more. While she had never expressed a desire to return, she always spoke of the sea with such warmth and longing, even with her final breath. No matter how far we had traveled from our home, it was a bond impossible to sever—rooted deep into what we were, entwined with all we would become.

My resolve hardened. “We will fulfill Ping’er’s last wish,” I replied, as my mother nodded in agreement.

“You must be careful,” Wenzhi said gravely. “Fortunately, the queen will not have heard the news yet. The Celestial Emperor will be keen to keep this quiet as your escape would be seen as another weakness, a failure. Do what you must, then leave as soon as you can.”

“We will,” I told him, even as I longed for a few precious days to recoup our strength, to plan our way forward. To mourn.

“I know you blame yourself,” Wenzhi said in a low voice. “Don’t forget, it was Wugang who struck her. The emperor who ordered the attack on your home.”