“Let’s have a look, then.”
Shao Qing withdrew the scroll, his hand shaking as he undid the ties. The painting unfurled.
It was just as Zhi Lan remembered. The dragon was rendered with loose brushstrokes, its body curved like a winding river between wispy clouds, its mane gold and its horns a sapphire blue. Now Zhi Lan knew why it looked so life-like. When Shao Qing brushed his hands over the paper, the painting rippled, and suddenly it was moving—actuallymoving.
Zhi Lan gaped. The dragon reared up and weaved over the page, exploring one corner, then the next. Its tail flicked through the clouds, splitting them into smaller puffs of white. It reared and clawed at them like it wanted to tear its way out of the paper, though some invisible barrier stopped it. It was the most stunning piece of art Zhi Lan had ever set her eyes on.
“It can’t leave,” Shao Qing said. If he was disappointed, Zhi Lan couldn’t tell. They crouched over it, silent.
She had half-expected the dragon to jump out and return to its owner in some way—though she wasn’t sure. This was her first run in with anything remotely supernatural.
Shao Qing made a move to stand, but Zhi Lan pulled him back down.
“We’re not leaving until we figure this out,” she insisted.
He only shrugged.
Zhi Lan squinted at the thief, then at the dragon. Shao Qing stared back with his beige, blank eyes.
The dragon’s eyes were also blank. Two empty circles the color of parchment.
“That’s it!”
Zhi Lan fumbled for the pouch at her belt. She never went anywhere without her painting supplies. Having a brush and ink on hand was very convenient when inspiration struck.
“What is it?” Shao Qing asked, watching her unload a miniature inkstone and ink stick, a brush, and a vial of water.
“Just wait.” Zhi Lan dribbled water into the inkstone and ground it quickly with her inkstick. It was Master Dan’s cinnabar brown that she had purchased in Yun City. She’d forgotten to give it to him last night.
“Are you going to vandalize my soul?” Shao Qing said when she dipped her brush into the ink and hovered it over the scroll. He splayed his hand over the dragon.
“I’ll do nothing of the sort!” Zhi Lan had never vandalized anything in her life, much less a piece of art she admired. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I’ve known you for three days.”
“Yet you’ll follow me anywhere,” Zhi Lan said, echoing his words to her earlier. She meant it to be a teasing comment, and she was so used to Shao Qing not reacting that it shocked her when his ears grew red. He slowly removed his hand.
She felt vindicated by this, knowing in her gut that what she was about to do was the right thing.
The dragon seemed curious, following the tip of Zhi Lan’s brush with its nose.
Slowly, with a steady hand that would make Master Dan proud, Zhi Lan dotted the pigment on the dragon’s right eye. Then, the left.
The dragon glowed, illuminating their surroundings in golden light. It reared from its page with a silent roar. Its body, now suspended in the air, was made up of wisps of gold lines. Some of them bled toward Shao Qing and tethered to him like shimmering fibers, as if revealing what had been there all along—the pieces of his soul that still clung to him.
Zhi Lan held her breath.
In a swift, arcing motion, the dragon hurtled toward her.
Zhi Lan shrieked.
It danced around her in a joyous manner, its tail flicking the ends of her hair and curling around her shoulders. A puff of cool air brushed her cheek as the dragon nuzzled her ear. A ghostly caress. It was a playful soul, she realized.
Shao Qing’s face twisted into an unreadable expression as he watched the dragon nestle on her shoulders.
“Why is it on me?” Zhi Lan asked, appalled. She wanted to remove it, but the dragon was like a heavy mist—present yet insubstantial. She was sure her fingers would pass right through it. And besides, touching Shao Qing’ssoulfelt a little strange. “Doesn’t it recognize you?”
Shao Qing scoffed.
