My mother glanced around the room. “Where’s your phoenix?”

“I told Xiayin that she could take Chilli Oil if she wanted. And she did. And I…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence.

My mother didn’t look surprised. She didn’t look disappointed, or angry. I couldn’t read her expression. Her brows pinched together. “You let your friend take the phoenix and you’re sad that she did.”

I nodded.

She kneaded her forehead with her knuckles. She muttered under her breath something that sounded like, “I knew…” Then, louder: “I’m sorry, but you have to face the consequences of your own actions. There is nothing you can do now except wait for Xiayin to come back. If she comes back.”

I nodded again. There were thorns in my throat.

My mother left my room.

But she was back again before dinner, just as I was lighting the lantern above my desk, the one with the motif of the dragon and the phoenix. She watched as I placed the lit candle inside the cage of the lantern with a steady hand.

“This shouldn’t have been the first lantern I taught you to make,” she said, closing the lantern cage for me. “As a thirteen-year-old, you should have made something more playful. With foxes, or sparrows.”

I sat down. “Why did you teach me to make it, then?”

“Well, it is popular with customers. It’s one of the things I have to paint most often. But I suppose I asked you to paint it because I missed your father, and I wanted you to have this symbol of a happy marriage, this symbol of me and him, even if you were too young to remember the joy we’d shared together. But when you were done with it, I couldn’t tell you. My grief was too much my own; I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

“A happy marriage…” I barely thought of my father most days – I had only the haziest memories of him, since he died when I was only six. But my nose soured now, a warning that tears were about to fall, as I looked into my mother’s soft eyes. “You know, I always looked at this and thought of it as just a symbol of marriage. I forgot the happy part.”

She smiled, and cupped my cheek in her hand. “I forgot too. But there’s no point if it isn’t happy, do you understand? There’s no point if you aren’t happy. I’m sorry that I made you think otherwise. But it’s the Emperor, you know? Opportunities like that don’t just fall into your lap every day.”

“I know.”

“All right. You might still be able to catch up with your friend if you go now. And I think there are things you want to say to her, that you should have said, instead of the silly thing you actually said to her.”

I blushed and jerked away, staring resolutely at the wall. “Ma…”

She spoke more slowly now – too much sincerity was as embarrassing for her as it was for me. “I think I have always known that Xiayin is … special to you, but I didn’t want to see it. But I believe you see it now, so I must too. Just … be happy, Jingzhi. That’s all your mother wants.”