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Feimao shoved the edge of his blade to the back of my mother’s neck. One upward thrust, and it would sever the core of her lifeforce. I searched his face, hoping for a flash of doubt, a sign of assurance—yet his expression remained blank.
Fury burned within me, enmeshed with the ice of fear. The temptation surged to unleash a gale upon them, sweeping Wugang to the ground … yet I forced myself to release my power, letting my sword fall from my grasp. How I hated this feeling of helplessness; these binds of futility.
Wugang inclined his head to my mother with unexpected courtesy, as though he were the genial Master Gang once more. “Chang’e. It saddens me to repay your hospitality in this manner.”
“You could release us and spare yourself the grief,” I bit out.
“That is out of my hands.” His voice was tinged with regret.
My mother glared at him. “What do you want with us?”
“You should not have attempted to defy His Celestial Majesty’s orders. You were commanded to remain here to await his justice. Disregarding his edict is a grave offense, as is attacking the emperor’s chosen general,” Wugang said solemnly.
“Justice?” I repeated with scorn. “Should we have waited here to be imprisoned?”
“It is not I who passes judgment,” he replied. “I am but a servant to His Celestial Majesty.”
“False pride does not suit you.” I jerked my head toward the laurel. “You told the emperor of this place. You turned his gaze here and poisoned him against us.”
He did not deny my claims, addressing my mother instead. “Those who rebel will face worse punishment. Rest assured that I will beseech the emperor for clemency on your behalf. However, your daughter possesses a rebellious streak that must be quelled.”
“I need no favors from you,” my mother said in glacial tones. “Especially those that will harm my kin.”
Wugang spread his hands wide. “Come, Chang’e. Let us not be at odds. There are not many of us in existence—mortals who ascended to the skies. Who else might we trust if not each other?”
A strange note rang in his voice: Cajoling. Almost hopeful. I did not think it was lust; he did not look at my mother with desire. Did he feel a connection with her because of her mortal heritage? Was he lonely? After all, he had little reason to think well of immortals, his sole company in all these centuries. And everyone he had cared for in the world below had died.
“Trust?” My mother’s chin tilted up. “When you attacked my family, lied to us, and seized our home?”
He stiffened, his fingers tightening around the bamboo handle in his grip. Was this the same axe he had stolen from the immortal? The one stained with his wife’s blood?
“Why do you use the flute for the handle?” While my question stemmed from curiosity and the urge to divert his attention from my mother, I wanted to glean some insight into his mind. The surest way to defeat an enemy was to learn how they moved, their innermost thoughts and fears.
“It was a gift from someone unworthy. A reminder to never place my trust in another again.” Bitterness thickened his voice, along with something else—a tinge of regret?
“You said your wife liked to hear you play. She gave you the flute … and you killed her with it,” I said slowly, my stomach roiling with revulsion.
Wugang’s lips pulled into a taut smile. “You seem curious about my weapon.”
“I heard you spent a long time chopping a tree with it.” I spoke with deliberate insult, trying to goad him into rashness.
“How would someone like you hear of such things?”
“The tales are told far and wide, sung in the mortal teahouses even,” I lied. “How they must pity you.”
“They would not dare!” His face twisted before it smoothed over, a mask slipping back into place. “Do you know, the mortals tell their own stories of the Moon Goddess? How she stole the elixir won by the noble Houyi, out of selfish desire to become a goddess. Some said she broke her pact with him to share the elixir, taking it all for herself. The entire one grants immortality, yet half of it would have bestowed them a long life beyond the mortal span. I would not have imagined such a ruthless heart to beat beneath this gentle exterior. How I applaud your choice, to disdain love.” His smile was sharp with malice. Repayment tenfold for her hostility.
“You know nothing of me, nothing of love.” My mother’s voice was hard and cold. I had never seen this side of her before, radiating ice and snow—the goddess the mortals knelt to worship.
“Love is worthless,” Wugang sneered. “Fleeting, inconstant, and shifting like the wind. All it yields is sorrow in the end, whether through indifference, betrayal, or spite. Those truly powerful have no need for love—a weakness, as it brought you all down today.”
His taunt seared. “Perhaps you’ve never truly been loved. Perhaps you’ve never really loved another.” A low blow as I wielded his pain as a weapon.
He laughed, though there was no joy in it. “What is love to eternal life?”
“Is that why you serve the Celestial Emperor even after he treated you so?” A part of me still hoped to sway him from the emperor’s side. To make him question his allegiance.
“Those of you who are born immortal take death for granted. You can’t comprehend the dread of an inevitable end, whether emperor or slave. That’s why your mother was banished instead of lauded, until you—her conniving offspring—tricked His Celestial Majesty into making a bad bargain. You were fortunate not to have died that day, a mistake that will be thoroughly remedied this time.”
