Between one leap and another, the wall of rock angles out, then stretches into flat terrain.
Yù’chén gives one last heave, and we’re there. With a groan, he sprawls backward onto the clifftop, and I go with him. We fall still, and I surrender to this moment of peace. Yù’chén’s chest rises and falls beneath me. We are a tangle of limbs and breaths, but my cheek rests against him and I hear the steady, strongthud-thud-thudof his heart.
He sighs and utters a shaky laugh, then his other arm falls against the small of my back. “Fuck,” he says.
I let him hold me for a few more heartbeats. I know I shouldn’t, but it feels good to be held instead of to hold.
When I feel strong enough to lift myself, I push up against him so I can look into his face. Lying against the rock with his hair fanning out in loose locks, framing his face, he blinks and watches me. His hand is on my waist, pressing on my woundto staunch the bleeding; his spirit energy warms me, weaving itself into a healing talisman. Even in his state of exhaustion, even wounded…he is helping me. As the clouds shift and the sun caresses the sharp edges of his jaw, I feel again that flutter in my heart.
“Why did you risk your life to save me?” I croak.
He snorts, a sharp shift of his chest. “Why did you risk your life to saveme?”
I close my eyes and speak the truth. “Because if that candidate killed you, I’d be dead, too.”
Yù’chén doesn’t reply for a few moments. When I open my eyes, I find him still looking at me with that expression I find so hard to read. He lifts a hand and brushes my hair from my eyes. His fingers graze the side of my face.
“Because you are a life,” he says. “You, too, have a beating heart.”
The exact words I gave him when he asked why I saved the yao’jing.
“You’re frowning,” he observes, and I’m keenly aware of the tip of his thumb still tracing down my jaw, keeping the wind from stirring my hair. “Are my words so hard to believe?”
“Yes.” None of it answers my question of why—why did he ally with me when he knew I was weaker, why did he save me—because I’m convinced there must be a reason. In the world I’ve come to know, people don’t help others without selfish purpose.
Yù’chén is watching me with that searing gaze of his, but if he sees the disquiet in my thoughts, he says nothing of it. “Can you stand?” he asks.
I push myself to my feet, trying not to sway. He’s healed my wound, but the blood loss makes my head feel light. “Yes.”
“Good.” He tilts his face up to something behind me and narrows his eyes. “Because this trial isn’t over yet.”
7
I turn.
We are at the clifftop. The expanse of rock is broken by lush, flat-topped pines. The mist has evaporated. The sun caresses my face and illuminates a radiantly beautiful sight.
Clouds roll beneath us in every direction, pouring over mountaintops. The morning light filters through, dusting treetops a dusky gold. In the distance, high in the skies and as faint as a mirage, I see it: nestled between the hazy shapes of mountains that seem to drift above the rolling clouds, flashes of gold from the eaves of curving rooftops, and white stone pillars blending into the mists.
The immortal realm.
And I stand at its threshold.
I realize I’m gripping Yù’chén’s forearm, my other hand curled around the jade pendant at my chest. “We made it,” I whisper. Possibilities bloom before me, as warm and tangible as the sunlight on my face. Ma, brown eyes sparkling and mouth curved in a smile as she bends over her sewing.Méi’zi by her side, silver needle flashing in perfect harmony with Ma’s.
Everything is right here, before my eyes.
“We just have to make it through the Sea of Clouds,” Yù’chén says. He points. “See those outcrops of rock? We need to cross those. You can jump, can’t you?”
I follow his finger. There, beginning at the edge of this mountaintop and dotting a path through the clouds, are what appear to be floating slabs of rock. No, not floating slabs of rock. Mountains, whittled to pillars by wind and water over time. I’ve studied them—the Immortals’ Steps, spoken of as half-mythical in our mortal realm. So few have survived the treacherous Way of Ghosts and Heavens’ Gates to see them, the stories have become mixed with legend.
The steps have another name: the Dragons’ Pass, for—as the stories say—far, far below us, hidden beneath the Sea of Clouds, is the actual ocean…and the beginning of the realm of dragons. I breathe in deeply and notice a briny scent on the breeze.
“The ocean!” I exclaim. I turn to Yù’chén. “It’s below us, isn’t it?”
His expression softens as he looks at me. “Yes. We are at the seam between the realms.”
I watch him unwind the sash around our waists until there’s only one loop tied around each of us.
