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On the way back from Shuiyuntian’s Jade capital, Xiao Lanhua’s mother’s shoulders were tense. She kept glancing over at her husband, pursing her lips. 

All of four feet tall, Xiao Lanhua had to crane her head back to see their faces. She hadn’t been allowed to sit in on the negotiations with the fairy emperor — that was for grown ups only. Pressing her ear against the ornate gilded doors had proved useless. They were too thick and the people inside had been talking too quietly for her to make anything out. On their way out, everyone was smiling. It wasn’t until they’d crossed the border into Xishan that her mother’s pleasantly neutral expression had dropped. 

They’d only made it ten steps inside their home when Xiao Lanhua’s mother whirled around and said, “I don’t think we should do this.” 

“Let’s not be hasty—” her father started. 

“I’m not. Something has felt wrong about this since the first conversation. I thought I was imagining things, but this feeling, I just can’t shake it. Why… why do you think they want this alliance so badly?” 

“She’s our Xishan goddess, it’s a prestigious match.”

“Yes, of course, but why do they want it now? They’re both still children, what’s the rush?” 

“I mean, if we wait, this will certainly not be the only offer made for her. They know that.” 

“But don’t you think the timing is too suspicious?” Xiao Lanhua’s mother pressed. They seemed to have forgotten that she was still standing there, watching them from the doorway. Her mother leaned towards her father and in a low voice said, “I think this might be related to the fairy empress dowager running away.” 

Her father frowned. “They want to direct attention away from the scandal by announcing a favorable alliance?” 

“Exactly.” Her mother nodded. “But that doesn’t resolve my growing concern, which is why did she leave in the first place?” 

Her father’s mouth flattened into a thin line. Hands behind his back, he paced away and then back, clearly deep in thought. 

Xiao Lanhua herself had no clue what they were talking about. They’d made several trips to Shuiyuntian over the past couple of years. Strangely, she’d been dragged along on all of them. 

She had no idea why they wanted her there. It’s not like she’d been invited to sit in on the discussions. She didn’t even know what they were talking about! Not that she really cared. It was almost certainly some boring adult problem, not worth paying attention to in the first place. 

“I think…” Xiao Lanhua’s mother ventured carefully. “I think we should consider our choices — all of our choices — and then make an offer ourselves.” 

Dongfang Qingcang was not sulking. He wasn’t. He was merely… making a strategic retreat. 

He didn’t know why they wanted him to sit through the marriage negotiations, anyway. It’s not like they were asking for his opinion on anything. Besides, his future bride didn’t have to attend, so why did he? He didn’t understand why the Xishan goddess’ parents kept looking over at him and smiling. 

So, after the morning session had concluded, he decided to go where nobody else would find him — the imperial palace courtyard attached to his late mother’s residence. 

He was kicking at a loose stone on the ground when he turned around the corner, head down. It took him several moments to realize he wasn’t alone. A little ways away, crouching down at the edge of the koi pond, was a strange girl.  

She was wearing a light purple dress and her hair was only half braided back, most of it hanging loose over her shoulders. No girl from Cangyanhai would be caught dead with their hair down like that, especially not in the palace. She must be from the Xilan delegation, Dongfang Qingcang reasoned. 

Whoever she was, she hadn’t noticed him come in. She was on her hands and knees — soaking the bottom half of her dress, from the looks of it — dipping her fingers in the pool to play with the fish. 

Dongfang Qingcang cleared his throat pointedly, the way he’d heard his father do when he needed to get the attention of his arguing ministers. 

The girl shrieked and whirled around. 

“Who are you?” Dongfang Qingcang demanded imperiously, standing over her with his hands on his hips.

“No one!” The girl yelped. Her wide eyes were darting left and right, looking for an exit. “I’m not anyone.”

Dongfang Qingcang raised an eyebrow. “That’s obviously not true,” he said. His hands were held behind his back, his posture was perfectly straight, just as a Cangyanhai warrior’s should be. The cuff around his topknot afforded him a few extra, much needed inches of height. 

“I’m nobody important,” the girl insisted. She was holding something behind her back. Quick as a flash, Dongfang Qingcang darted a hand out and grabbed her wrist, jerking her forward so he could get a look at what it was. 

“Let go of me!” She yelled — uselessly, because he already had let go of her, the moment he’d gotten his hand around whatever it was she was hiding. “Give it back!” she cried. 

“You dare?” He asked, leaning forward, eyes flashing. She blanched, leaning back on her heels. She was standing right at the edge of the pond, there was nowhere for her to retreat to. “First you sneak into the restricted section of the palace, you steal something, and then when you’re caught, you have the gall to ask for it back?” 

“It’s not stealing!” The girl insisted, “The plant spirits gave it to me!”

Dongfang Qingcang scoffed. Did she seriously think he’d believe such a stupid lie? He looked down to his hand, uncurling his fist to reveal a… a seed lying in the center of his palm. 

“See!” The girl shouted at him. For a would-be thief, she didn’t seem to have a very good grasp on the concept of keeping quiet. 

“This belongs to the palace gardens, how dare you take it.” Dongfang Qingcang insisted. Honored guests or not, he wasn’t going to let some stupid girl get away with stealing from his mother’s imperial garden. As if the other immortal nations hadn’t bullied them enough already.

Throwing the seed in the dirt behind him, he grabbed her arm and started to pull her away, out of the courtyard and back towards the Xilan delegation. 

“You, you, you… Damutou! Let go of me! Let go!” 

“I’m taking you back to the conference room. We’ll see what punishment the elders decide is suitable for a thief like you.” He gritted his teeth, tugging her along. She was struggling quite a lot, flailing her free arm and digging her heels into the ground. It was taking a surprising amount of strength to maneuver her to the door. 

“I said, let go!”

With a flash of blue light, Dongfang Qingcang’s hand was wrenched open by a powerful force. He fell forward, away from the girl, landing hard on his hands and knees. 

Mouth falling open, shocked and angry, he whirled around, scrambling to his feet. He lunged forward and grabbed her again — or, he tried to. Right before his hand could make contact with her arm, his body recoiled, a reflexive action, and he fell back to the ground. 

He looked up at the girl. She was shocked too. A hand covered her mouth and her round eyes were darting around, nervously taking in the scene. She kept glancing back to a point a little above his eyes. Right in the center of his forehead. 

Dongfang Qingcang was smart enough to know what that meant. “How dare you curse me! You stupid flower, release me this instant!” 

“I won’t! I won’t unless you promise not to tell!”

“So you admit that you were stealing?” He snarled.

“It was a gift!” she cried, exasperated. They glared at each other, both of them breathing hard. 

“Fine,” Dongfang Qingcang said after a long moment. When he realized he was still sitting on the ground, he scrambled to his feet. “Fine, I won’t tell on you.”

“Promise!”

“I promise.” He crossed his arms, glaring at her. When both of them were standing on even ground, he was only a little bit taller, he realized with dismay. He straightened his posture. “Now get rid of the curse.” 

“Fine!” Her eyes flashed blue and a pressure he hadn’t realized he was feeling suddenly lifted. 

Pivoting on his heel, Dongfang Qingcang was almost out the door when he heard a small voice say, “I’m sorry.” He paused. 

The girl continued, so quietly he almost wondered if she didn’t want him to hear, “I’m not supposed to cast the curse on anyone except for in emergencies. I didn’t mean to, you just scared me.” Then, again, “I’m sorry.” 

Infuriatingly, he felt his eyes start to burn. When was the last time anybody had apologized to him? He was the crown prince. If some slight was committed against him, the culpable party fell to their knees before him, begging for death. The last person to say that to him had been his mother, right before she’d…. 

Swallowing hard, he nodded. Then, without glancing back, he left. 

Xilan tribe parties, even royal banquets, were nothing like the carefully choreographed state functions held in Cangyanhai, Dongfang Qingcang mulled as he wandered the halls of their palace. He’d snuck as far away from the main hall as he could get, until all the talk and music and noise of the celebrating immortals was a faint buzz he could tune out. 

It was the goddess’ 1000th birthday, her coming of age. Every immortal of even remote importance had been invited. The fairies were here — they’d come in droves — and the upper echelon of Cangyanhai nobility had been invited, too. On hallowed Xilan lands, violence was strictly prohibited, and so as much as Dongfang Qingcang would have liked to start a fight, he wasn't allowed to. 

There’d been parties like this every centennial for the past 500 years, and so far, he’d managed to weasel his way out of every one of them. This time, his father had finally put his foot down. 

“You can’t avoid her forever. Now that she’s of age, it’s time you begin courting her. She’ll be your bride soon enough, after all. And before you ask, yes, that is an order.” 

So here he was, wasting his time in Xilan, wandering around the banquet venue looking for the goddess who, as far as he could tell, wasn’t even at her own party. 

About an hour into the event, when it became clear that she wasn’t planning on mingling with her guests in the main hall, his father had sent him out to search the rest of the palace. She hadn’t been in any of the sitting rooms or the library. Not by the greenhouses or hiding in the kitchens. Dongfang Qingcang was beginning to consider the possibility that she’d fled the premises altogether. 

He’d tried wandering back into the main hall, but his father, all the way on the other side of the room, had taken one look at him and raised an eyebrow — a clear, “did you find her yet?” Dongfang Qingcang had shrugged, shaking his head, to which the Moon Supreme had simply gestured for him to turn around and keep looking. 

Exasperated, tired of ignoring the ugly stares and pointed whispers of the fairies, he’d ducked through an archway leading somewhere secluded, out to a balcony overlooking the vast grassy plains. No sooner had he done so than he spotted her. Before he could duck out, she’d spotted him, too. 

“Who’s there?” the young woman called out. 

She’s very beautiful, he thought. It wasn’t the sort of thing he normally would have noticed, but it was undeniably true all the same. Wrapped in a shimmering outer robe, translucent and bright as a cloud, she looked untouchably perfect. Like a dream vision or a mirage, she seemed to glow from within. The dress she was wearing underneath was white and luminescent as pearls. A delicate golden hairpiece wound around the crown of her head. 

Not wanting to scare her, Dongfang Qingcang reluctantly stepped forward into the moonlight, getting his first good look at her face in the process. He recognized her at once — the little thief who’d cursed him in the courtyard garden… and the Xishan goddess, he realized after a beat. 

Of course he was betrothed to the most troublesome girl he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting.

“One of the Cangyanhai delegates?” She asked, confused, “What are you doing here? Did you get lost?” Leaning against the stone railing, her back to the valley, she scanned him over critically. 

“I could ask the same of you.” He sauntered forward, coming up to stand beside her, looking outwards. It was a full moon tonight, bright and clear. Stretching out across the valley beneath them, the fields of tall grass swayed in the breeze, waving like the sea. “You’re hiding away from your own party?”

She huffed. “I never asked for them to throw a party. If they really cared about what I want, then they would release my shifu and her husband from that stupid prison at once!” 

Dongfang Qingcang frowned, trying to remember. “The arbiter?” He hadn’t realized she was the goddess’ shifu, but it had been a big scandal, just last month, when the famous, well-respected master of Siming hall had eloped with a dragon. The fairy emperor’s men had caught them almost immediately and she’d been banished to the edge of the realm. 

The goddess nodded, frowning angrily. “The fairies are so unreasonable.”

The corner of Dongfang Qingcang’s mouth quirked up. At least they could agree on that. She didn’t seem to recognize him or realize that they’d met before. It was probably for the best, he thought, for the sake of their future relationship. The goddess was clearly rather hot-headed. But still, instead of making some neutral, pacifying comment, he couldn't help himself—

“So you think this childish protest of yours is going to change anything?”

“You—!” 

He smirked, tilting his head back, admiring the stars. “Stomping your feet and making a big fuss at your own coming of age is a sure way to make people talk, laugh at you, and look down on your parents, but I doubt it’s going to change the fairy emperor’s mind.” 

“Damutou!” 

There was that insult again. So she did remember him. Dongfang Qingcang glanced down at her pretty face, scrunched up in anger. 

She took a few deep breaths, turning around. Now they were both looking out over the dark, open landscape. “What would you do, then?”

Dongfang Qingcang tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. She glanced up at him and he turned to face her, leaning down menacingly into her personal space, until their noses were almost touching. In a cold, calculating voice, looking deep into her eyes, he said, “I would storm Shuiyuntian with an army behind me, point my sword at the fairy emperor's throat, and demand he do my bidding.”

For a long moment, the goddess stared up at him, transfixed. Then she blinked several times, rapidly, and took a step back. Turning back to the valley, she settled her hands flat on the top of the stone railing and leaned out over them, sighing. 

“Forget it, that’s definitely not going to work. I don’t have an army to command, and on top of that, I think Chidi-ayi would stop me.” 

Dongfang Qingcang considered for a moment, straightening back up to his full height. “Well, then you need to employ subterfuge. Figure out a covert way to break her out.” 

At that idea, the goddess bolted upright. Turning to him, faster than he could react, she grabbed both his hands and squeezed them tight. “You’re right!” She let go, flying to the archway that led back inside. “I’m the Xishan goddess! Surely with my powers, I’ll be able to sneak Shifu out!” 

Speechlessly, he watched her go. 

She paused on the threshold, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “You can call me Xiao Lanhua, by the way. Not ‘stupid flower.’”

“I’m—” Dongfang Qingcang started, but she was already gone. His shoulders slumped. Strangely, in her absence, the night suddenly felt much colder. 

Well, he’d spoken to her. At least his father couldn’t complain. 

Xiao Lanhua was standing knee-deep in a bog in the middle of the night. It was freezing and she was thoroughly regretting not having worn something warmer. The trailing sleeves of her silk dress dragged behind her as she trudged through the foul-smelling muck. This was not one of her better ideas. 

She swatted at a fly that had landed on her cheek, forgetting that her arms were dirty up to the elbow. When she pulled her hand away, she could feel thick mud dripping down her face. 

The ancient lost artifact she was looking for was rumored to have been buried in this bog amidst the roots of its oldest tree. Of course, all the tree roots here were submerged in a knee-deep layer of mud, so there was no helping getting dirty. At least at this time of night, in such a remote location, there was no one around to see her like this. 

“What are you doing?” A deep voice drawled behind her. 

Xiao Lanhua shrieked and whirled around. 

Standing a couple of paces away was a tall, very handsome man. His arms were crossed and his head was cocked to the side. He was staring down at her with familiar skepticism. 

“How come it’s you?! Damutou, you scared me!”

“Alone, wandering far from home in the middle of the night, someone might think you’re up to something,” the Moon Tribe warrior scolded, strolling forward. 

When Xiao Lanhua walked through the bog water, she did it in big, sloppy strides, stumbling and tripping over herself with each step. When he waded forwards, however, his steps were as smooth and unperturbed as if they’d been taken on a polished marble floor. From the knee up, not even a hair was out of place. He looked as put together as a king meeting a visiting dignitary for lunch.

Shoulders slumping, she explained, “I’m looking for the Clear-sighted Mirror. Shifu’s prison is hidden in the middle of a labyrinth, I need the mirror to guide my way through.” She paused, looking up at him suspiciously. “Why, what are you doing here?” 

In lieu of explanation, he held up the Clear-sighted Mirror.

Xiao Lanhua gasped. “You have it?” She rushed forward, only to immediately trip over a rock, hidden in the mud. Before she could faceplant, however, her mysterious friend appeared at her side. With the hand not holding the mirror, he jerked her upright by the arm. When Xiao Lanhua looked up, it brought them face to face. 

“Please, oh please, Mr. Cangyanhai soldier, please let me borrow the mirror?” She begged, turning her widest doe eyes on him. “I only need it for a little while. Once I’m done I’ll give it right back!” She held two fingers up, a promise. 

“You still don’t know who I am?” He asked, staring down at her intensely. The corner of his mouth had twitched up. 

“Of course I know! You’re that boy I met in the Moon Palace back then.” He raised an eyebrow and she relented, “Alright, I don’t know your name, but how would I? You never introduced yourself.” 

He looked down at her like she was an idiot. 

“What?” She pressed, but he just shook his head. “Are you going to let me borrow the mirror or not?” 

“I will if you can guess my name.” 

Xiao Lanhua’s mouth fell open. “Unfair! I already told you I don’t know!”

He shrugged, “Then guess.” 

Furrowing her brow and balling her fists, she whirled around and tried to storm away. Only, the Moon Tribe warrior’s hand was still around her arm. Trying to jerk out of his grasp only made her stumble forward. Pinwheeling her arms, she managed to right herself without his help, waving him off when he tried to offer support. 

“Okay, fine! Fine. I’ll guess.” She looked over him, rubbing her chin contemplatively. She’d forgotten about the mud on her hands. 

He had striking features, dark and elegant — the kind of face that was easy to spot in a crowd and hard to forget after you’d seen it. Unfortunately, his appearance alone didn’t really call any names to mind. It wasn’t like she’d familiarized herself with the rank and file of Cangyanhai’s nobility. Why did he expect her to know his name without an introduction, anyway? Wasn’t this game a little too unfair?

Of course, when she eventually married Dongfang Qingcang, their crown prince, she would become a member of the Cangyanhai nobility. At that point, she’d definitely be expected to know everyone’s name. And it’s not like they were strangers to her, even now…. The Moon Tribe had been sending representatives to Xishan ever since they finalized the betrothal. 

So okay, maybe she should know who he was. But she didn’t, and there was no helping it now. Examining his appearance had proved fruitless, so she started scanning their surroundings, searching for a moment of divine inspiration. 

“Yue… Liang?” She tried, squinting up at the moon, barely visible through the thick canopy. 

The Moon Tribe warrior looked distinctly unimpressed. 

Okay, maybe that one had been a little too on the nose. What if his name was just a really common one — “Zhang Wei?” 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Listen, I really don’t know—” 

“What about now?” He asked, voice dark. His eyes flashed and a ball of blue flame appeared in his hand. 

Shaking her head helplessly she offered, “Lan Huo?” 

Extinguishing the flame, the warrior marched forward, closing the distance between them until he was crowding into her personal space, towering over her. Staring down into her eyes, he tilted his head to the side, not unlike the way a tiger looks at its prey right before it pounces, she thought, unhelpfully. A bolt of nervous energy shot down her spine. She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

“No,” he said curtly. With a thumb, he wiped a streak of mud off her cheek. He tugged teasingly at one of her braids. Then, in a puff swirling energy, he teleported away, mirror in hand, leaving her behind in the middle of the dark, stinking bog. 

Xiao Lanhua was having a horrible day. First, one of the servants had woken her up in a panic because there was some problem with the arrangements for her upcoming wedding. She hadn’t even had time to learn what the problem was before her aunt waved her away, telling her not to worry about it, that it wasn’t her responsibility. 

They kept saying that — it’s not your responsibility. From start to finish, nothing about this marriage had been her responsibility. It seemed like the only job they trusted her to handle was walking in a straight line next to her husband during the ceremony itself. 

After that, she’d been called to meet with the Great Turtle and her day had gone from bad to worse. Yeah, yeah, she got it — it was her destiny to destroy Tai Sui once and for all, defeating the evil that had plagued these lands for a thousand generations. There was no need to nag her about it. What Xiao Lanhua wouldn’t give for that to have been the destiny of one of the previous Xishan goddesses. It would have saved her a world of trouble. 

It’s not that she didn’t want to destroy Tai Sui. Of course she did, but ever since the prophecy came out — the one that said she would strike the final blow — everybody had started treating her like a stranger. Even her own people wouldn’t look her in the eye anymore. Now they bowed low every time she walked past, bestowing blessings on her every time she so much as sneezed. Couldn’t she have a day, just one day, where everyone treated her like an ordinary flower spirit?

She’d been so frustrated leaving the Great Turtle’s realm that she had brushed past the line of people waiting for her and teleported herself to the most remote, isolated corner of the valley she knew of. Walking under the weathered, ancient trees, she had just started to feel better when, out of nowhere, the clouds overhead opened up in a downpour. 

Soaked, angry, and helplessly sad, Xiao Lanhua trudged into a cave at the base of the mountain. Her eyes were fixed morosely on the ground, not really looking where she was going. That’s why, when she walked right into a strong, firm chest, she immediately lost her balance. It was only his sharp reflexes, hands darting out and grabbing her by her soldiers, that saved her from tipping over. 

“Damutou?” She gasped. Of all the caves in the wide, wild valley, how had they both ended up in this one? 

She’d kept running into him, her mysterious Moon Tribe warrior, ever since he’d left her in that bog. On top of mountains, on the banks of rivers, in the mortal realm. Once, memorably, in a bubble of air under Yunmeng Lake, where she’d been searching for a rare seagrass with magical properties. He’d shown up at formal events — banquets, meetings, and parties — and at her Siming hall, where his only order of business seemed to be bothering her. 

Not once, in all of this time, had he told her his name. 

He looked surprised to see her, too. In fact, his entire appearance was different than usual. Normally so polished and put together, right now he looked downright bedraggled. He’d clearly gotten caught in the rainstorm, too. His long, dark hair hung limp around his face and his clothes were soaked through. And then there were his eyes. 

He’d always had very expressive eyes, Xiao Lanhua thought. Whether he was lecturing or teasing, making some snide observation, or just looking at her contemplatively, his eyes were always so… alive. Right now, however, they looked defeated. 

“What are you doing here, Xiao Lanhua?” He wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“I was walking nearby when the rain started. What are you doing here? Why are you in Xilan?”

He let go of her arms and stepped back, turning away from her to look out of the cave’s opening at the falling rain. “No reason,” he clipped, voice cold. 

“No reason? Did you have some sort of official business with the tribe elders?” 

“I said, no reason,” He barked, whirling around. He glared at her, hands balled into fists. 

Unconsciously, she took a step back, eyes wide. He could be prickly and unpleasant, sure, but she’d never seen him angry before. Her cowering must have surprised him enough to snap him out of it, because his expression immediately turned contrite. His shoulders softened out of their hard line. He looked away, unclenching his hands. 

It drew Xiao Lanhua’s eyes downward. She noticed there was something wrong with his sleeve. It was a little dark in the cave and he was wearing black, but the cuffs of his outer robe were oddly frayed. It almost looked like they had been… burnt? 

“Are you okay?” She closed the distance between them, darting her hand out to grab the edge of the fabric. She rubbed it between her fingers. It had definitely been singed, the texture uneven and coarse. Anxiously, she lifted up his hand, searching it over for injuries. Before she could get a good look, however, he snatched it back out of her grasp. 

“I’m fine.” He tucked his hands behind his back pointedly. Xiao Lanhua tried to duck around him, but he neatly mirrored her sidestep, blocking her. 

“Damutou, what happened?” 

“I said, it’s nothing.”

“Tell me what’s wrong!” 

“Nothing’s wrong!” He thundered. As he said it, his eyes burst into flame, his whole body erupting in a strange, blue fire. The flames licked up his arms and curled around his shoulders. It was the same fire he’d shown off all those years ago, standing in the bog, only now there was something wrong with it. Instead of a solid, continuous flame, the blue fire sputtered and hissed. He didn’t seem to have very good control. 

With a grimace, he extinguished the fire, shaking out his hands, before whirling around, putting his back to her, and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Xiao Lanhua’s brow furrowed, putting two and two together. She took a step closer. “Is that hellfire?” 

His angry silence told her it was. 

“Damutou, you can wield hellfire?” Xiao Lanhua wasn’t much of a scholar, but the Xishan tribe elders hadn’t spent the last half-millennium cramming her head with Cangyanhai history for nothing. She knew that there had only been one recorded wielder of hellfire in all of history. Well, two now, she supposed. 

“I can’t.” Damutou spat out bitterly. “I can summon it, but the fire doesn’t… it doesn’t obey me.” 

“Why—” She reached out a hand towards his shoulder, trying to comfort him, but then thought better of it at the last moment.  

“To wield the hellfire, you must purge all emotion,” he explained, sounding like he was reciting from a book. 

“And you haven’t been able to.” Xiao Lanhua concluded. 

His shoulders slumped. “Before the treaty with Xilan, my father was going to remove my emotions forcibly. There's a secret ritual, knowledge of it has been passed down since the time of the very first Moon Supreme. But now, it's no longer necessary for our Moon Tribe to have a wielder. The alliance with Xilan means we don’t need one.” 

“Then why are you still trying?”

Rubbing his forehead, he turned back to face her. “Is a marriage alliance really enough to stop the fairies’ treachery?” 

“They’re not that bad—”

“For tens of thousands of years, they’ve done everything they could to oppress and exterminate my people. You’ve been to Cangyanhai, you’ve seen how my people live. Tell me, how does it compare to Shuiyuntian?” 

“But it was the first Moon Supreme who massacred—”

“After she was betrayed! Has the rest of the world forgotten that she was betrayed by the fairies first? Do not try to cite history to me, who do you think that ‘history’ was written by?”

“I… I…” She stuttered, not knowing what to say.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Swallowing hard, she watched the tension slowly bleed out of his shoulders. 

“Don’t be upset, stupid flower,” he said tiredly after a long moment. “When your mother refused the fairy emperor’s marriage proposal and set your engagement with the Moon Tribe instead, she did more to foster peace and stability between the realms than anyone else has in the past hundred generations.”

Xiao Lanhua nodded slowly, biting her lip. She’d always felt conflicted about her betrothal, upset with how little choice she’d had in it. Even now, the thought of marrying some faceless man she’d never met made her stomach twist. But having it all spelled out for her like this, hearing just how critical the alliance was for peace between the realms…. Everyone had always told her how important her marriage was. She just hadn’t wanted to hear it. 

Still, getting over those conflicted feelings was her problem, not her friend’s. There was no point in talking about how she felt. 

“So you’ve been trying to learn how to wield hellfire on your own?” 

He nodded. “If I meditate and clear my mind, I can reach out and grasp it, just for a moment. It’s only when I get distracted that it slips away.” 

“Show me.” 

His eyes flicked over to hers, surprised. He didn’t argue, however. Slowly, he sat down on the cave floor and arranged himself in a lotus pose. She watched his chest rise and fall as his breathing evened out. Then, he closed his eyes and began to meditate. 

Quietly, Xiao Lanhua sat down across from him, knees tucked into her chest. She kept watch. 

After several minutes, she realized the air in the cave was getting warmer. Steam started to rise off of his rain-soaked clothes. There was a flicker — once, twice — and then in the space in front of his chest, a ball of blue fire burst into existence. 

Xiao Lanhua leaned forward, too curious to be afraid. The hellfire was angrier than she’d expected. Contained tightly in a sphere the size of a cuju ball, the flames thrashed and writhed. They seemed desperate to get out, to spread. 

It was odd; the wielder had to purge themselves of emotions to summon hellfire, didn’t they? If that was the case, then why did the fire itself seem so violent? 

For almost ten minutes, the Moon Tribe warrior managed to hold the hellfire steady. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched. The flames went out. 

He swore, throwing his hands up and shooting to his feet. He paced towards the entrance of the cave. “It’s taken me six hundred years to get that far. Six hundred years, and that’s all I have to show—” he choked up and couldn’t continue.

“Damutou, I don’t think repressing your emotions is working.” 

He whirled around, furious, “That’s the only way!”

“You’re too angry,” she interrupted him. “You’re too angry and the fire won’t listen until you calm down.” 

His chest was heaving. When he turned to face her, he looked more like a demon than a man. Even though he’d lost control of the ball of hellfire he’d summoned, the blue flames hadn’t gone out of his eyes. 

Instead of cringing back, Xiao Lanhua pressed forward. Determined, she walked closer, closer, right into his personal space. She kept going until they collided, until she was pressed right up against the front of him. Cheek flat against his chest, she wrapped her arms around his tense frame and held on. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move a muscle. For a long moment, the only sound in the cave was the torrential rain, coming down hard outside. 

“What if instead of repressing your anger, you tried just accepting it?” His arm made an aborted movement. She squeezed tighter and hurried on, “Try meditating again, but this time when you start to get angry, don’t repress it, just acknowledge that it’s there. Everyone has emotions, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe you can’t help being angry, but you don’t have to let it control you.” 

She glanced up at his face cautiously. He was looking down at her, eyes intense. His expression was inscrutable. His hands came up and he gently freed himself from her grip. 

As he walked back to the spot where he’d been meditating, she trailed him closely. When he sat down, she did too, resuming her position across from him. This time, when he closed his eyes and started to meditate, she joined him. 

Hours later, Xiao Lanhua was jolted out of her meditation by a strange shift in the air. Her eyes snapped open. It must have stopped raining at some point, because now bright sunlight was streaming into the cave. She could smell fresh pine and dewey grass. Sun-warmed mud. 

Across from her, the Moon Tribe warrior inhaled sharply. A pulse of energy radiated out from his spiritual core. She nearly choked at the weight of it when it hit her. He opened his eyes, instantly meeting hers. They were burning, but not with blue hellfire. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she took in the voracious glazed flames. 

It was the day of the wedding. It was the day of the wedding. The day he’d been dreading for so long had finally arrived and Dongfang Qingcang’s stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering. 

Of all the days to become a coward, he thought, why now, why over this of all things?  

His own body was betraying him. Breathing techniques that had worked all his life were suddenly useless. He had resorted to pacing back and forth, wearing down a track in the floor, when Shang Que materialized in his room and told him it was time to change into the ceremonial attire. 

As he stormed down the halls, servants dived out of his way. There were a lot more of them than usual. This was the biggest event the immortal realms had witnessed in hundreds of years. Constructing the guest list alone had been a nightmare, not to mention working out how to host all of the foreigners for the duration of the multi-day celebration. The previous Moon Queens had all been from the Moon Tribe themselves. Outsiders hadn’t been invited to their weddings. Now, at this very moment, thousands of immortals from across the realms were descending upon Cangyanhai.

He was about to round the corner when he heard his father barking out orders to a mob of servants on the other side. He froze, thinking fast. 

Over the past few days, the once fearsome Moon Supreme had turned into a wedding planning monster, unrecognizable to his own son. If he spotted him now, not even wearing his dragon robes, he would be in for a world of suffering. 

There weren’t many options available. Glancing around in a panic, Dongfang Qingcang dove into a broom closet just seconds before his father rounded the corner. 

Safe for the moment, he let his eyes close, head falling back in relief. It wasn’t until someone pointedly cleared their throat that he realized he wasn’t alone in this broom closet. 

“Damutou!” Xiao Lanhua whispered, “What are you doing here?”

Dongfang Qingcang’s eyes flew open. He opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw her, the words died in his throat. 

She had already changed into her phoenix robes, layer upon layer of intricate embroidery arranged carefully around her slight frame. In all of the years he’d known her, she had never looked more beautiful. 

She wasn’t wearing the phoenix crown yet, but they had already applied her makeup — a layer of white powder, red paint on her lips, and an intricate huadian. Her brow was furrowed, mouth open with surprise, and all he wanted to do was lean down, cup her cheek gently and… now was not the time. 

“I’m hiding from my father, what are you doing?” He whispered in a rush. The broom closet wasn’t very big. He tried to ignore just how close they were standing. He was practically on his tiptoes, shelves pressing sharply into his back as he tried to give her as much space as possible. From the twist of her mouth, he could tell she was just as uncomfortable. 

Xiao Lanhua glanced at the door anxiously. It wasn’t solid wood, but rather an intricate metal grate. The filigree was dense enough to hide them from sight, but it wouldn’t do much to muffle their voices. Luckily, with the hustle and bustle of the servants, the corridors had never been louder than they were today. Light streamed in through the little holes, just enough to see each other by. 

“Damutou, you need to help me.” She whispered urgently, looking back at him. “I can’t go through with the wedding.” 

Dongfang Qingcang’s entire world ground to a halt. “What?” he choked out.

Xiao Lanhua looked like she was close to tears. “I can’t do it, I’m too scared. Jieli told me Dongfang Qingcang has a green face and fangs, that his long hair drags on the floor and is full of lice, and that he hasn’t brushed his teeth or taken a bath for thousands of years. Could that really be true?” She looked up at him with wide eyes and a wobbly grimace. 

Utterly taken aback, Dongfang Qingcang had no idea how to respond.  

“What if…” Xiao Lanhua continued, looking down, flustered. “What if we ran away together?” She looked back up at him, face filled with a determined sort of hope. “I know what you’re going to say — we have to think about the alliance, but you’re from the Moon Tribe, too, aren’t you? If we get married, it will still count as a union between Xilan and Cangyanhai. Even if you’re not the crown prince, you can wield glazed fire, surely that’s good enough—”

“What— what are you talking about?” Dongfang Qingcang cut her off.

“Please marry me,” Xiao Lanhau said succinctly. “I don’t want to marry Dongfang Qingcang, I want to marry you. Let’s run away together.” 

Brow furrowed, beyond confused, Dongfang Qingcang replied, “No.”

It was the wrong thing to say. At once, her expression fell, all of the color draining out of her face. She looked down. 

“Xiao Lanhua—” he reached out to grab her wrist but she managed to dodge him. It was an impressive show of agility, considering the confined space of the closet. 

“Xiyun?” A woman’s voice called from outside. 

“Wait—” he hissed at her, but in the blink of an eye, she had squeezed past him and was out the door. He was left alone in the closet, mouth hanging open like an idiot, wondering what exactly had just happened. 

When he met her at the start of the procession, the thick red veil was already draped over her head. She couldn’t see him, standing tall and proud at her side.

She offered him her hand stiffly and he took it, guiding her forward as they started the long walk to the imperial shrine. Lining the path on both sides were crowds of wedding guests — Fairies, Xilan, Moon Tribe, all of them coming together to witness their marriage. 

She doesn’t know who I am, he thought for the fifth time, just as astounded as he had been in the broom closet, when he’d first realized it. She asked to marry me and she didn’t even know my name.

He’d been sure she’d known who he was. Maybe not in the bog, but surely afterwards. Surely she’d gone home and asked someone. They’d been running into each other for hundreds of years by now. They were betrothed. How had she not figured it out?

Her back was straight as a board as they took their bows, her whole body filled with tension. It probably wasn’t obvious to the audience, but to Dongfang Qingcang, who knew what she looked like relaxed and laughing, her body language radiated anxiety. He would have rolled his eyes if she could have seen him. He’d never met a person with less common sense. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be in love. 

During the wedding banquet, she was just as uncomfortable. Dongfang Qingcang sat back at ease, eating slowly and drinking toasts with a train of well-wishers. Xiao Lanhua ate maybe two bites of rice and spent the rest of the time wringing her hands, saying nothing. 

After about forty-five minutes, when his father had drunk enough for his shoulders to loosen up and even the fairies seemed to be having fun, it was finally time to leave for the wedding chamber. There, he could take off the veil and put her out of her misery.  

She dragged her feet the whole way. Dongfang Qingcang did roll his eyes this time. Winding their way through the palace halls on the way to his chambers, they were completely alone. All of the servants were down in the banquet hall and kitchen, attending to the wedding guests. 

He held the door open for her and she trudged inside, stopping just a handful of steps past the threshold. She waited there patiently, facing away from him, head held high, not saying a word. He followed her in, stopping an arm’s length away from her turned back. The sound of his steps was loud in the silence.  

“Stupid flower, how do you still not know who I am?” 

Xiao Lanhua made a strange choking noise under the veil. She spun on her heel, robes flying out around her, and tore it off, taking her first good look at her husband. 

“You?!” 

“Me.”

He’d expected to see relief on her face. He hadn’t expected her mouth to immediately twist down into a grimace. 

“You lied to me.” 

Frowning, he took a step forward, closing the gap between them. He looked down, meeting her eyes. “I have never lied to you.” 

To his dismay, she took several steps back. Glaring at him fiercely, “You’ve known this whole time?”

“Since the second time we met, at your coming of age,” he replied.

“You’ve been laughing at me,” Xiao Lanhua accused.

Dongfang Qingcang would not let such slander abide. Prowling forward, glaring at her with intent, the lights in the room darkened as he closed the distance between them once again, pulling on his power like a cloak. 

She continued her retreat, stumbling backwards until her back met with the far wall. There was nowhere left for her to go. She took a panicked little inhale as he crowded into her space, his arms coming up to press against the wall on either side of her, penning her in. They stared at each other angrily, both of them breathing hard. 

“When have I laughed at you?” He demanded.

“You refused to tell me your name.”

“It was you who was willfully blind.”

“You don’t want me!” she cried, her voice breaking.

Dongfang Qingcang grabbed her chin with one hand. Holding her still, he leaned down until their noses were just a hair's breadth apart. 

“I want you. I have you. You’ve married me — from now on, you’re mine.” He tilted her perfect face to one side and then the other, looking her over carefully. “Your life belongs to me. You’re breathing belongs to me.” His other hand came up to trace a line down the side of her cheek with one knuckle. “Your heartbeat belongs to me. Every drop of blood in your body belongs to me.” He paused, raising his eyebrows, “Do you still want to run away from this marriage?”

With her cheeks still squished by his hand, eyes wide, she shook her head vigorously. Satisfied, he stood up straight, letting his hands fall. She didn’t let him go far. 

Both of her hands darted up and cupped his face, dragging him back down to her height. Before he could so much as inhale, she pressed forward and kissed him. 

Softening himself, he tilted his head to the side and pushed back towards her, deepening the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand burying itself in his hair. He folded an arm around her waist, pulling her forwards until their bodies were pressed flush against each other. Already she had lost herself completely, making little high-pitched whining noises in the back of her throat. 

Or maybe not. Before he could get too smug, she was pulling back, mumbling against his lips, “I’m still mad at you,” before diving right back in and kissing him again.

This Xishan goddess is a lot of trouble, he thought, manhandling her towards the bed. …But not more than she’s worth.