Of course—our wards, designed to stop mó from entering. In that moment, a part of me is glad to see him struggle, for it means our wards are still strong enough.
Yù’chén sees me watching him. His expression settles as he inhales deeply, then passes through the pái’fang at a run. When he comes to a stop before me, his face is pale. His knuckles whiten as he grips the fence to steady himself.
“How does it feel?” I’m aware of the cruelty of my question, but I need to gauge how effective the wards are.
He turns his face away from me. His jaw clenches. “Like I’m burning from the inside.” Despite how hard he tries to keep it even, his voice shakes.
“Does it hurt more for the pure mó?”
“A lot more, I’m certain, to the point where they can’t get through or won’t even try. But the most powerful mó have the magic to break through.”
The Higher Ones,I think, my stomach twisting.
It’s the middle of the night, so the streets are completely empty. As we walk, I notice how dusty and crumbling the houses are, some with broken shutters or crooked fences. The trees are growing bare in the face of autumn, the dry rattle of their leaves crunching beneath my boots. Everything looks rough and unfinished compared to the dazzling perfection of the immortal realm.
But it’s mine.
My heart lifts at the sight of Fú’yí’s house. The shutters are dark, but I spot the small pot of chrysanthemums she keeps outside her front door, the flowers she and her husband both loved. The soil within is wet, the flowers healthy and alive, and I find myself smiling.
I begin to run when I see my house, sitting in the same corner with the plum blossom tree. The bamboo door is bolted shut, as are the shutters. When I near, a shadow stirs in the darkened alley across the way, taking on the form of a large bird. Yù’chén’s shadowcrane.
I pause to incline my head at the beast. No matter what it is, it has watched over my sister all this time, and I owe it gratitude, if not respect. It only blinks back at me with those unsettling red eyes.
I reach for my front door, but Yù’chén grabs my hand. “Wait,” he says. He won’t meet my eyes, and I catch something like shame on his face. “I need you to remove the wards around your house. I…I don’t think I could get through a second set of wards.”
I bite my lip. The thought of taking down the wards around my house makes me anxious, but I need him with me.
It’ll only be for an hour or two,I tell myself. Besides, I still have the wards around the town borders as a first layer of protection.
I set to work. This is the first time I’ve removed the wards around my house in nine years, and it’s dismaying how easily they come off. A swipe of fresh blood through the old talismans I’ve drawn, and I feel the spirit energies dissipate. The defensive ring around my house fades like a linked fence coming down, and within minutes, it’s done.
I’m uneasy as I round to the front, but Yù’chén stands at the door, waiting for me. He looks so proper, like a guest in a clean crimson travel cloak, waiting to be invited in.
I square my shoulders, then open the doors to my home to let a mó through.
22
I feel like I’ve stepped through a passage in time, where everything and nothing has changed. My house remains the same: shabby, dark, with simple, cracked furniture and walls in need of repair. The shutters are closed so that only slivers of moonlight illuminate the living room, and my gaze immediately goes to the figure on the wooden bed.
“Ma,” I whisper, rushing to her side. She’s turned to the wall, her blankets drawn over her. Sucking in a breath, I place a hand on her shoulder and tense. I do not know whether to expect screaming or nothing at all.
I get the latter. My mother’s eyes are glassy, fixed on the wall in front of her. She’s dressed in a fresh gown, her hair smells like soap, and there’s a cup of water on the small cabinet by her cot. I lean in and catch a familiar bitter herbal scent.Fú’yí.An ache rises in the back of my throat as I run a hand over my mother’s thinning hair. My neighbor has kept true to her word; she has looked after my family.
But that doesn’t mean she has the ability to save Méi’zi.
I turn to the bedroom, my hands beginning to shake. I’m aware of Yù’chén’s gaze on my mother, but my mind is empty of anything and everything but my little sister.
When I push open the door, I can immediately tell something is off. The room smells of sweat and urine. A vase of chrysanthemums on the bedside cabinet has been knocked over, water dripping onto the floor. Fú’yí must have dropped by within the last day. My sister’s sickness must have worsened after our neighbor’s last visit.
My watering eyes immediately settle on the figure curled up on the mattress in the corner of the room.
“Méi’zi,”I choke as I stumble to her side. My little sister’s eyes are pinched shut, a dribble of vomit on her cheek. Her breathing is faint, her face deathly pale.
I have not felt this helpless in a long time. My blades and my spirit energy, all the preparations I have made these past nine years and the training I have gone through at the Temple of Dawn…I have worked hard for each, layering them on one by one like pieces of armor. I thought I would become powerful enough to protect those I love.
Yet again, fate has proved me wrong.
I spin and stagger to Yù’chén, grasping fistfuls of his shift with both hands. “Help her,” I say, and finally, I know how it feels to beg. “Please. Please save her. I’ll do anything.”
