Kang never pressed her for explanations, never asked what she was doing in the form of a young woman. Nor did he ask her what it was like, her home in the heavens. He didn’t feel entitled to know. Just thinking of the Star, the fact of her presence, filled him with a quiet, incandescent joy. He was a small boy again, in the presence of wonder. He was grateful for whatever the Star chose to reveal but he never presumed to ask.

Over time she shared tidbits of her story. After a while, he patched together the fragments. He consulted the Library of Legends. When he could contain his curiosity no longer, he had to ask.

“Your story,” he said, “it very much resembles the love story of the Willow Star and the Prince.”

The Star seemed relieved. Glad, even. She said she didn’t mind having someone in this life who knew her true identity. Especially since Shao wasn’t allowed to know.

“It’s one of the conditions set by the Queen Mother of Heaven,” she said. “It’s all a game to the gods. Someday Shao may remember who I am, what we meant to each other. Then I’ll be allowed to take him home with me, back to the heavens.”

Professor Kang shook his head. “But to do this through eternity, waiting through so many reincarnations, not knowing if you’ll ever manage to make him remember.”

“It’s been interesting,” she said. “I’ve lived among mortals for hundreds of years but still find your obstinacy hard to fathom. I used to think you were stubborn because of your tendency to hope.”

At first, she had found humans’ hopefulness endearing. Valiant even. Now she couldn’t begin to count all the ways they managed to delude themselves.

“When the dragon winds of disaster rush at you,” she said, “you always believe yours will be the one house left untouched by the storm. You invest in one dubious scheme after another, never learning from past mistakes. You trust that a husband might stop drinking or a lazy son finally discover ambition.”

“So have you given up on us,” he’d said, “we mortals and our many failures?”

“Worse than that, Professor.” A wry smile. “I’ve learned to hope.”

THE MONKS FILED out of the room, leaving the shrouded body on the table. They bowed to the professor as they passed.

The Star stood up. “Come with me,” she said. “I have another duty. There’s someone I must find.”