Such is the way of the Pavilion of Memories.
“Greetings, Lady Meng.” Four bows, unable to shake the feeling that she has been expecting him.
“I am pleased to see you are well, Your Majesty.” The Lady of the Pavilion waves her hand, and a stone stool appears next to him.
“My visit will be short,” he says, taking a seat. “Every soul in Hell must go through your tea ceremony before being reborn into the human realm. I want to know if your tea will work on a King. I want to know if drinking it will allow me to forget and cross over.”
There is no change in Lady Meng’s expression when she replies, “Your Majesty knows my nature does not allow me to lie. Yet you insist on asking me things a King should never need to know.”
Four tugs at the black strip of silk around his neck. It is suffocating him, always suffocating. “I did not take this crown myself. It was placed onto my head before I could even conceive of what a crown meant. Tell me, will your tea work on me?”
Lady Meng remains silent.
Four knows his questions are dangerous. There are good reasons why no King has drunk her tea or crossed the bridge. It is said that if the underworld is even one King short, chaos will ensue.
Four places the willow branch on the table in clear view. “I intend to use this.”
“A wish?”
Four nods.
“You will bind me to it,” Lady Meng said. It was not a question.
“I am sorry, but it is necessary, and you are the only one who exists in both realms.”
Lady Meng regards him. Her milky-white irises focus, seeing nothing and everything at once.
Four gasps.
It feels like his chest is being ripped open. She digs and digs. Clawing, raking, until she finds what she is looking for.
Then she withdraws.
Four’s breaths are shaky. He feels torn apart and put back together carelessly, his insides no longer fitting.
“That was a taste of what you want,” Lady Meng tells him.
Four shivers.
“What you want can be achieved under the right circumstances,” she continues. “Certain conditions must be met when a soul partakes in my tea ceremony. First, it requires them to forget.”
“I am willing to sacrifice anything,” he replies hoarsely.
“It would mean forgetting the reason why you are doing this. It would mean forgetting her.”
How did Lady Meng know he was doing this because ofher?
She is the reason why he must do this. Why he must escape from this life of shadow. The time they had together was brief, for she left him too early. He has existed for so, so long; an endless stretch of days and nights—but every moment with her was a moment he felt truly alive.
He wants that feeling again. Knows he can never get it back. Even if he did become human, it would not be the same. Not without her. But he cannot forget her, he cannot forget what he did to her. And maybe... he wants to. Maybe it is relief he feels, now that he knows there is a way to put his memories to rest.
“I am willing to sacrifice anything,” he says again. “I was never given a choice to be a King. Now I will make my own.”
“Very well,” said Lady Meng. “But your power and your soul are eternal and tied to this realm. If you wish to exist in the human world, you must separate them. This cannot work without the appropriate vessels: one for your power, one for your soul.”
Four swallows, wondering if it is fortune or fate at work. Unaware that the dying star had split into two, One followed the first green light to the site of that accident, and they had asked Four to help save a baby’s life.
But Four had seen the second light, the other spirit trail of the dying star that had split into two. He chose to follow it and was shocked to discover what—or who—was at the end of it.
