Silver Phoenix (31 page)
Authors: Cindy. Pon
Cindy Pon
“Look over there.” Li Rong pointed to two birds strolling majestically by the pavilion.
“Phoenixes,” Ai Ling whispered, afraid of startling them.
The birds reached taller than her waist, with long legs covered in golden scales. Their heads were white, with a vermilion comb on top. One phoenix stopped briefly to ruf-fle the crimson and gold feathers of its back with a pointed beak. They walked with dainty steps, light glancing off their hooked talons, the giant plumes of their red tails trailing behind.
“This is their favorite spot,” said a lyrical voice.
A woman dressed in a pale green gown stood under a pavilion. She swept her arm to reveal the table behind her, laden with dishes. The smell of scallion and ginger and even more exotic scents assailed Ai Ling.
“A meal awaits. Eat at your leisure.” The woman bowed, her black hair free flowing except for two braids coiled on top in loops. She vanished from view.
“I’ll never become used to that,” Li Rong said after she was gone. And, as an afterthought, “I wonder if a mortal can love the servant of a goddess?”
“Why don’t you fi nd out?” Ai Ling teased.
“You didn’t have much luck with a serpent demon,” Chen Yong said.
Ai Ling and Chen Yong laughed together. Li Rong threw a playful jab at his brother, which Chen Yong pushed 170
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to the side with a sweeping arc of his forearm.
“We’re not all monks like you, old brother,” Li Rong said.
Chen Yong raised a brow but made no reply.
They settled down on the stools and watched the two phoenixes stroll to the river and dip their golden beaks into the rushing water.
“Do you think it’s safe to eat the food of the Immortals?”
Li Rong asked.
“I feel we’re safe here,” Ai Ling said, helping herself to rice, vegetables, fish, braised meatballs, and a steamed bun.
“I’m afraid to return to our world.”
Both brothers looked serious now, as they joined her in the meal. The food on their plates never dwindled, nor did their teacups empty. Each serving was more addictive than the last.
“Thank you, Immortals!” Li Rong said, unsuccessfully hiding a burp behind his hand.
Ai Ling laughed as Chen Yong shook his head.
“Have you considered all that the Goddess said?” Chen Yong asked.
“If I dwell too long, saving Father becomes an impossible task.” She closed her eyes, hoping for silence.
“What Zhong Ye does affects all of us in a way. Who knows how he has skewed the Life Cycle by keeping these spirits trapped? I wanted to go to the Palace to find my mother, but I go now to help you slay this man as well,” Chen Yong said, his voice quiet and steady.
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“Me, too,” Li Rong, head down, mumbled from behind his sleeve.
Ai Ling opened her eyes and found Chen Yong studying her with an expression she could not identify. She fought the urge to touch him with her spirit, just to glean his thoughts, but she had promised herself she’d never intrude on him like that again. She smiled instead, unable to express her gratitude.
“You must have been very strong in your past life to be chosen for this task,” Chen Yong said.
She straightened, no longer drowsy. Her hand unconsciously sought her dagger’s jeweled hilt. What was the use of being strong in a past life? Would she be strong enough in this one?
They spent the rest of the afternoon following the curve of the gentle river, exploring the lush garden. Ai Ling sketched the flowers; Li Rong stalked the phoenixes, until he came too close and got pecked in the thigh.
At dusk, they found three plush beds under the same pavilion where they had dined. A platter of fruit and some more lavender-colored tea were set on a low table.
Before the light faded entirely, Ai Ling decided to find a secluded spot and bathe in the river. She strolled away from the pavilion, feeling safe and at ease in the garden.
She’d been so tense, so afraid these past few days. Thank the Goddess Chen Yong and Li Rong were with her.
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Finding an area with soft grass along the riverbank, Ai Ling stripped bare. She loosened her braid, and threw a glance over her shoulder. Nothing stirred.
The water was warm. The rush of the current exhilarated her, and the elliptical pebbles pressed into her flesh, massaging knotted muscles. Her tension unfurled—Ai Ling imagined it rising to her skin’s surface, being swept away by the flow of water. She slid a bit lower, propped herself up on her elbows, her entire body beneath the warm, gurgling river.
She threw her head back and wet her unbound hair. Her breath caught in her throat. The stars emerging from the deep indigo of early evening were endless. At first the sky was flat, but the longer she looked, the more bright specks leaped into place, until the darkness took on depth. Brilliant points of silver, white, bright orange, and cold blue blinked down from above.
She traced the Azure Dragon by the glimmering dots in the sky and had begun to search for the Agate Tortoise when she heard the brush move.
Ai Ling quickly sat up and drew her knees to her bare chest, bumps prickling her arms. “Who is it?” she asked in a quiet voice, quelling the unexpected panic that filled her.
A silver cat glided from the thickets, seating itself daintily near the river’s edge. It was unlike any feline she had seen, with short, thick fur the exact color of a shiny coin.
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“Hello there.” She cocked her head at the cat, which raised a paw and began licking it. The action was so familiar it immediately brought Taro to mind. She ached for home.
“The water is very relaxing. Have you tried it?”
The cat paused in its cleaning and regarded her with silver eyes. It mewed as if in reply, the sound throaty and lyrical, taking her by surprise.
“No. Taro doesn’t like baths either.”
There was a rustle of steps on the path. She wrapped her arms around her breasts.
“Ai Ling?”
Chen Yong.
“Yes, I’m bathing.”
“I thought I heard you speaking.” His voice carried in the still night, even though Ai Ling could not see him.
“I was talking to myself.” She decided that was easier than trying to explain why she was having a conversation with a silver-haired cat.
There was a pause before Chen Yong replied, “All right.”
Embarrassed, she quickly braided her hair. It was time to dress and retire. Ai Ling reached for the thick towel she had brought, dried herself, and pulled on a clean tunic and trousers.
She bade the cat good night and headed down the path toward the pavilion. Their beds were arranged in a triangle formation. One glass lantern shaped like a lotus flower 174
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glowed in the middle of this makeshift nest until Li Rong extinguished its three fl ames.
The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves and the chirping of crickets. Even the Immortals have crickets in their garden, she thought, before she fell into a contented sleep.
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Ai Ling sat up and rubbed her face, embarrassed to be the last one to rise.
“A peaceful morning.” Chen Yong smiled. The dust of travel had been scrubbed from his face, his thick hair bound in a topknot wet and dark. Had he bathed in the river? He wore a new tunic, slate gray embroidered with hints of cerulean along the collar and sleeves.
“There’s hot goat’s milk for your morning meal, along with sticky rice balls with sweetened taro, rice porridge with pickled vegetables and salted pork, and the most amazing fruit you’ve ever tasted.” Li Rong waved his arm in a fl ourish toward a lacquered tray laden with food at the end of her bed.
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