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“He was fortunate. His consciousness was preserved along with his immortal spirit, something we had never seen before.”

“The laurel.” A lump formed in my throat as I recalled the fading remnants of its sap scattering over Wenzhi’s body. “It brought me back. It saved a part of him too.”

“Why did his spirit only leave now? Why not before?” My voice shook, the enormity of the revelation still unfolding in my mind.

The Keeper of Mortal Fates stepped forward, approaching the dais. “We could not do it at first. His spirit was greatly weakened; we were unsure if it was strong enough to sustain a mortal existence, the only way he could return without losing his immortal self.” He stroked his long beard contemplatively. “Yet over the years his spirit gradually strengthened, as though something was helping him heal—a most unusual circumstance. Only then, could he be sent to the Mortal Realm.”

“But that was after the laurel was destroyed, its power is no more.” Even now, I dared not wholly believe it, afraid it was not real, that this happiness would be snatched from me again.

“Not the laurel. You,” Liwei said gently.

All the times I had returned to the Cloud Wall … had Wenzhi sensed me too? Had he found comfort in my presence as I had in his? Had he been fighting to return to me? I should have known that he would haunt me if he could. Tears surged into my eyes, falling to the stone floor—when had they gathered? How I hated crying in front of the court, but nothing could have tempered my emotions—the elation cresting through me, this incandescent joy.

Liwei raised his hand and motioned for me to ascend the dais. As I stepped forward, an attendant rushed to set a chair beside the jade throne. A relief to be able to speak to him away from the ears of his court, though their eyes remained on us still.

“Why did you not tell me?” There was no resentment in my question, just wonder.

“We dared not raise your hopes. Nor could I send him to the Mortal Realm until after I had assumed the throne, until I was sure it was safe,” Liwei explained.

“Thank you, I am grateful.” How inadequate these paltry words. “I will repay you,” I added fervently.

“You don’t owe me anything, not even your thanks.” His mouth stretched into a faint smile. “For if we were to keep count, my debt to you is greater. What matters is your happiness—you deserve it more than anyone.”

“You did this for me?” An aching gratitude swelled within.

“What other reason could there be? It was certainly not for him. I saw how you grieved; you were a shadow of yourself. You must have … you must love him greatly.” A breath slipped from him, drawn and soft. “Any hardship he endured in the world below was essential to strengthen his immortal spirit, to hasten his return. It is no trivial matter to overcome the adversities of the Mortal Realm, whether illness, loss, or heartbreak.”

My insides twisted at the mention of the last. I would bring him back. “I have a boon to ask of the Celestial Emperor,” I said slowly.

He did not hesitate. “Ask it from your friend, instead. We are friends, are we not?”

“Always.” A promise and a farewell.

Something wrenched from my chest, a weight I had been carrying all this time. Such lightness bloomed in its place, relief that this rift in me would finally heal—even as a pang struck my chest, a part of me still reluctant to surrender the dream of us that I had cherished for so long. Liwei had been so deeply entwined in my life, it was like tearing away a part of myself. Yet he would not be lost to me. I would always love him, even though my heart no longer beat to his.

As Liwei raised his hand, the entire court bowed before him. He wanted them to hear what he said next, to extinguish all doubt. “Xingyin, daughter of the Moon Goddess and of the Sun Warrior, for your service to the realm in destroying the everlasting laurel and the traitor Wugang, ask your heart’s desire and it shall be granted.”

I rose and made my way to the front of the throne. Cupping my hands together, I bowed low before him. I would play my role; I would honor him this way so none could fault him. I had earned the right to ask this and I would do it with pride. “Your Celestial Majesty, the only thing I wish for is the Elixir of Immortality.”

Liwei nodded. “It shall be yours. One is almost ready—” His words cut off, unease flashing across his face.

A memory surfaced, penetrating my haze of emotion: Zhiyi showing me the peach, the joy in her face when she spoke of the elixir for her husband, the one Liwei had promised her. And what of my own pledge to her? But there was no urgency, she had an Immortal Peach, my mind whispered—for I did not want to wait.

I turned to the Keeper of Mortal Fates. “Is Wenzhi safe?” Honor dictated my action, but if it came at the cost of his life, I did not think I could do it. If there was just this one chance, I would not relinquish it, though it would stain my soul.

The Keeper nodded. “He is in good health, living in a place called Silver Cloud City. Even should he encounter danger in the realm below, even should he die—it will not affect his true self. Once he is restored to the skies, he will regain his immortal form, his memories and power.”

His words were intended as assurance, yet my hands clenched at the thought of someone hurting him. Mortal or not, they would pay. Yet I forced myself to calm, to think. Wenzhi was alive, he would be restored to all he had lost, he would return to me.

I searched Liwei’s face, catching the wavering light in his eyes. If I asked for the elixir, he would not refuse. His sister need never know of this; she lived in the world below. Silence ensued, my desires battling the better part of me, a voice within screaming at me to not be a fool, to grasp the happiness that lay within my reach—I had waited long enough. And yet, could I dishonor my promise when I owed her my father’s life? Could I burden Liwei with this decision? For it would grieve him to break his word. He had done so much for me, I could not take more.

As long as you are mine as I am yours, we have all the time in the world.

It was what Wenzhi had said to me when I had asked him to wait, when he first learned of my identity. The beginning of our unraveling, and yet buried beneath the deceit—the emotions had been true. We would have time; I would make sure of it. It would be far more meaningful, far more precious, if our joy was untarnished by shame and guilt. For it would haunt me that I had twice taken what another had claim to, that I had broken this promise. I would not be giving Wenzhi up, I could never do that—rather, I would be delaying our reunion.

We had done so many things wrong, this we would do right. We would start anew, upon a stronger foundation, to give us the chance we never had. The one we deserved.

I lowered myself into another bow. “Your Celestial Majesty, I wish for two elixirs. The first for your sister, and the second for myself.” The words were bitter on my tongue, my heart sinking when a moment ago it had soared. I was not so noble that I could yield this easily, my insides curling with resentment and longing.