My heart twists at the thought. ‘No, that’s – no.’ I shudder.
It sounds wonderful, but that’s not the reality. When he moves on to his next life, it’ll be me who’s left behind, heartbroken, grieving for eternity.
I shake my head. That won’t be our future,myfuture.
‘What if you could become vampire?’I wouldn’t ever have to watch you cross the Naihe Bridge, wondering when or even if I would ever see you again.
‘Do you know how to do that?’ There’s a warning in his tone, but I’m too focused on convincing him to pay it any mind.
‘No, but we could look for the answers together. The books all say—’
‘The stories make vampires out to be cruel, debauched seducers out to destroy all that is good and pure. Why would you put stock in them?’
‘There are seeds of truth in stories,’ I say, echoing Big Wang. ‘The ones about hulijing being yang-sucking seductresses, for example.’
The quip earns me a half-hearted chuckle. ‘Perhaps.’ He cups my cheek. The warmth is comforting. ‘I’ve done a lot of reading about vampires and I can’t reconcile the lore with the Lady Jing I know.’
A tenderness for this mortal pinches my heart. ‘You’ve been reading about vampires?’
‘Yes. Not only novels, but also historical reports and treatises.’ He grimaces. ‘Deeply unpleasant and rooted in fear and ignorance. If there are seeds there, I hope they are few.’
‘But—’
‘A wise old dragon once told me I must embrace the Cosmos in order for the Way to show me a path.’ He grins, as if I should be amused. When I’m obviously not, he exhales and shakes his head. ‘Jing, I want to live my life to the fullest. I like you very much and want to spend time getting to know you, finding out what kind of future we might have together. We have time.’
I wonder though, do we? ‘I’m only saying we should talk things through, really understand our options. How you view the ghost ferries isn’t—’
‘I am mortal, Jing,’ he says with a touch of impatience. ‘It’s not anoption, it’s reality.’
‘Why won’t you even consider immortality?’
His gaze cools, and he takes his hand from mine. ‘I would never ask you to be something you are not. Your vampire and hulijing heritage are part of you. They make you who you are. My mortality is part of whoIam. There is an order to things and dying is a natural part of that. I think in this, we’ll have to agreeto disagree.’ He stands, smooths out the wrinkles in his trousers, doesn’t look at me. ‘We should join the others.’
I’m taken aback by how entrenched Tony is in his beliefs. For a mortal with rare access to other realms, how is it not obvious to him that the realities of my realm are just as natural as the ones in his?
For now, I let him have his way.
He must be more annoyed than he lets on because he doesn’t try to sit with me during dinner, and allows Lord Aengus to monopolise my time. I feel bad about raising the issue and try to catch his eye so I can apologise, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
The more I think about his answers and his reasonings though, the more annoyed I become. What kind of futuremightwe have together? The worst though is him telling me how much comfortIwill be tohimwhen he makes his final trip to yin Shanghai. And me? What comfort willIhave? Mourning for eternity for a man who, even if we were to cross paths, would only see me as a stranger.
After dinner, I head back to my room but Gigi hooks her arm through mine before I can escape. ‘Time for kanhoo,’ she sings.
She manoeuvres me into the lounge. Ah Lang is already at the bar pouring a pinky peach concoction into a line of delicate crystal coupe glasses. The sight of them make me nauseous.
‘No more Goddess Gis for the love of Tian!’ I say. ‘Please, make something else, Ah Lang. It’s the only cocktail we’ve been drinking this whole trip.’
Gigi tosses her hair. ‘Well, I suppose we can drink something else, since it’s our last night. Brother Zhu named one after you, too. Darling, make a few Lady Jings for us.’
Gigi ends up drinking most of the Goddess Gis herself, while I drink the Lady Jings. Ah Lang makes a valiant attempt toprovide a steady stream of cocktails, but he can’t keep up. Eventually, Gigi fetches an armful of Maotai, dumping the distinctive white-and-red bottles onto the chair beside her. She cracks one open and pours us each a cup before fishing out a deck of kanhoo cards from her water sleeve.
‘Arrright, ugly, time to get your pigu beaten by the Goddess of Kanhoo!’ she says.
I knock back the baijiu, wave the cup at her for more. ‘You’re so full of dog fart,’ I say, though the words are starting to slur.
The fifth, or maybe it was the sixth bottle, finally numbs my annoyance withI-wanna-be-mortalTony Lee.
Empty bottles of baijiu litter the table and the floor around us. I squint at my cards. They double then blur, and the rotted numbers swim around.
