Pei Zhi carefully lowered herself onto her redwood chair, which had an embroidered seat pad gifted to her by one of her many grandchildren. This chair was one of the two remaining pieces of furniture from a set that had originally been bought before coming to Lanhua. The other pieces, including the bed, had all been gifted away to various family members over the many years she’d been alive.

Typically, elders had the best furniture in the house, and it was only after they died that it was given to any of the younger generation as part of the family inheritance; but Pei Zhi and her husband, Wu Tengfei, stayed healthy no matter how they aged. It was to the point their children were likely to die before they did, in which case those children would never properly receive their inheritance. Rather than risk that happening, they’d given most everything away.

Except two chairs. She sat in one and the other remained empty. The person who should be sitting there, laying motionless in the bed.

Pei Zhi ran her aged hand on the arms of her chair, barely able to feel the familiar slick wood grain through the coldness in her fingertips.

She was cold all the time.

It had started after the Emperor had fallen asleep. Winters became longer and more severe, spring weather more unreliable and summer turned cooler. Along with the weather, Pei Zhi and Wu Tengfei felt their limbs gradually chill. Starting with their hands and very slowly working to their core. No amount of medication fixed the problem.

Though it had never been explicitly stated, Pei Zhi and her husband had suspected that the Emperor was keeping them alive. They were well over a 100 years old now, the last remaining members of their generation, but they didn’t look a day over 60. Many of their children looked older than they did and some had died before them too, just as they had feared all those years ago.

It wasn’t natural for the parents to live so long while the children died of old age.

That’s what Pei Zhi had thought at the time, but never said aloud. Not just her, but Wu Tengfei also seemed to realize they lived too long. But what could they do? Go to the Emperor and tell him to withdraw his favor?

If Pei Zhi dared do that, Mei Hua’s heart would break.

That silly girl didn’t understand what it meant to be mortal. Though Mei Hua technically understood the concept of time, it was not the same as how Pei Zhi understood it. Mei Hua was eternally young, with a husband and sons who also didn’t age. Those who worked in the Palace were the same. Though it was unintentional, her friend had lost touch with what it was like to be human and live a human’s life.

Not that Pei Zhi begrudged her friend for such a blessing. To have what Mei Hua had meant giving up Wu Tengfei and her family. She loved them too much for that.

Her eyes moved toward the still form of her husband.

When she was young, she had thought that if Wu Tengfei left the land of the living first, she could carry on. If not for her own sake, then for her family or at the very least Mei Hua’s sake. But now that it came to it, Pei Zhi discovered that she didn’t have it in her.

She missed him terribly and not even an hour had passed. It was like someone had snuffed out a warm light in her heart.

Very slowly, she reached out and unlocked the nearby window. It used to be she would sit here with Wu Tengfei during the spring and summer and enjoy the fresh air, sunlight, tea, and snacks. But now, during the depth of winter, she more often stayed on her heated bed with her husband.

The moment the clasp was removed, the winter wind knocked the window open the rest of the way, dragging a flurry of snowflakes and a weak beam of sunlight with it. The warmth of the room almost instantly vanished, but Pei Zhi remained unfazed.

She was so cold that there was no difference between a heated room and standing outside.

Near the door of their room, and in front of the window, was an ancient blue flower tree. These particular trees could be bare of leaves during the winter or be fully green with blue flowers blooming. Pei Zhi asked Mei Hua once why there was no consistency and she had been told that the age of the tree determined whether it was capable of blooming during the winter.

All blue flower trees were intelligent like humans; but just like humans, their strength and desires were dictated by their age. When they were young they had neither the inclination nor the power to go against the weather. Only as they grew older did it occur to them to bloom out of season or remain ever-green to satisfy their vanity, while also having the power to do it.

From what Mei Hua said, the tree in front of their room was apparently “middle aged”. It didn’t bloom in the winter but it also didn’t drop its leaves either. It remained green all year ‘round. Currently it’s green leaves were laden with snow and, on another day, Pei Zhi would have found the contrast lovely and complimented it.

Today, though, she was simply glad this tree was old enough to understand human words and capable of passing along information.

She took several labored breaths before she managed to say to the tree, “Hello there old fellow... Pass a message along for me... will you? Mei Hua, I’m not… strong enough… to stay. Sorry. Thought I… could do it… but my… heart is with… Tengfei… Be… well… dearest… frien…”

That was all she got out before she slumped back in her chair, exhausted. The tree shuddered at her words, causing heaps of snow to fall from its branches, but she didn’t notice.

The last bit of warmth around her heart began to fade and her eyes grew heavy. She knew death was embracing her but she wasn’t afraid.

Life had truly been good.

A loving husband, a big healthy family, and a friendship that lasted a lifetime.

It was just a shame she couldn’t be Mei Hua’s life-long friend.

Maybe the gods would be merciful and she could reincarnate and find Mei Hua again. Even if she forgot everything in this life, if she met Mei Hua in a new life, she was absolutely sure they’d be friends again…

***

“Is she still there?” Fu Jing asked in a low voice, a worried expression on his face.

In front of him was an arched stone entrance. On the arch read “The Wu Family Ancestor’s Last Resting Place”, with the phrases “1000 Years of Luck” on the left and “1000 Years of Peace” on the right.

In front of the luck phrase stood a young man with green hair, Ye, and in front of the peace phrase stood a tall, brown skinned woman, Shuya. Both nodded at him in affirmation.

Ye whispered sadly, “We’ve tried moving her but she just won’t leave.”

“She’s a bit better now though,” Shuya spoke quietly, glancing into the room as she did, “Probably the hunger and thirst is wearing her down.”

They were standing in a cemetery.

It was the first one built in Lanhua. Fu Jing had seen many different graveyards, travelling all of Dalu like he did, but Lanhua’s graves were the most interesting.

They found the places on the mountains that were made of solid sheer rock and, most likely with the Emperor’s help, carved pathways into them. These pathways led into wide tunnels that had rooms, each room housing a different family. The rooms were filled with square shelves. As Lanhua was a young country, most of these shelves were empty.

Here they burned the body to ash and the ash was placed into a stone box urn. Each box had a carving on all four sides. The bottom of the box had a curse for hell to shower on their enemy, the top had a blessing for the heaven’s to bestow, the side facing the stone mountain a wish for their family, the right side a regret in their life, the left side a praise for a good deed, and the forward facing the name of the deceased, their birth and death date, and a phrase that summed up their life.

The wealth of the family would dictate the size of the urn and how many, if any, designs were added to all the sides . There was no standard for size or designs, but most families had already developed their own traditions. Some traditions got popular and were now relatively common, to the point that urn makers could pre-make urns and know they’d sell.

One would think that these hallways and rooms would be dark and dank, considering their location. But because they were made by the Emperor, the ceiling was covered in many different semi-transparent gems and through them light, presumably from outside, was filtered through. The entire place had an otherworldly glitter and shine to it during the day. When the sun sets, a string of night pearls, or something like them, would cast a soft glow through the long corridors.

If these cemeteries had been built anywhere else in the world, they’d have to be guarded all day long. The amount of precious material found here was too tempting for unscrupulous sorts, they’d steal everything they could, even if it required mining tools to do it. Here in Lanhua, people were generally good hearted and would never think to steal from a cemetery. Those less virtuous who managed to survive in Lanhua weren’t stupid enough to try.

Though this place was very splendid, it couldn’t make up for its purpose.

Currently, a woman who looked much younger than her actual age, was sitting on the floor in front of two urns. These urns were about half the height of a person and three hands wide. They were much, much bigger than normal and packed with lettering, to the point there was barely any room for the usual designs. No other urns were like these and it was clear that the people who rested in them were important.

Fu Jing entered the room but the woman didn’t respond.

She had her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her face buried in between them. Her long hair fell loosely around her body and onto the floor. She was as still as the stone urns she sat next to.

He walked over quietly and sat down.

There was a long moment of silence and then she spoke in a crackling voice, “Go away.”

“Mm.”

He didn’t leave, but instead got more comfortable.

The silence stretched out again and this time she raised her head. Her face was unnaturally pale and her eyes had dark circles under them. Though it was inappropriately timed, Fu Jing couldn’t help but be amused by how his Third Nephew, Shi Ji, had the exact same kind of bags under his eyes when sleep deprived. Truly the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree...

Those tired eyes flashed at Fu Jing. There was a flash of anger and irritation in her eyes.

“Go. Away.”

“No.”

She lowered her head onto her knees.

“I want to be alone.”

“For how much longer?”

“...”

“You have been here for two weeks already, Sister-in-law.” Fu Jing said, his voice low and his tone mild. “Your cultivation is high but you are not quite to the point where you can abstain from all food and water.”

She only grunted, clearly unwilling.

Fu Jing wasn’t angry or surprised. If she’d been in a state to be reasoned with, would he be here? Every son had tried to get her out after the first few days, unsuccessfully. Ye had tried too, though much later. Lately, Xui Shi the Bloodstone Seal had visited, as well as the White Fox Clan to try and talk her into leaving.

As for Shuya, she was suffering along with Mei Hua in her grief. Apparently the intensity of the sorrow was such that it made things awkward for Shuya through their shared connection. If Shuya got too close to Mei Hua, she’d get the full brunt of her Little Sister’s sorrow and start sobbing uncontrollably. She didn’t want to leave, but couldn’t get close, so she stayed at the entrance with Ye as if to guard her.

Fu Jing had a bag with him. He took out a jug of water and two hot steamed buns. He placed them in front of her.

The smell of the buns wafted through the air. Whatever Mei Hua’s heart was feeling, her stomach was well past this nonsense. It rumbled loudly at the scent of food.

“Eat. Drink.” Fu Jing urged, suppressing a chuckle.

She didn’t move, despite her stomach’s continuous protest.

“Sister-in-law…. Surely, your friend wouldn’t be happy with you starving yourself.”

Mei Hua stiffened at this comment. She looked up at him angrily but, despite not liking his words, reached over and grabbed the buns and water. Whether it was hunger or because she felt guilty for eating, she practically inhaled the food. It was as if Fu Jing blinked and it was all gone.

Fu Jing gave a small smile of relief.

At least she had eaten.

This wasn’t the first time someone tried to get her to eat. But her cultivation was high enough that a week without food or water wouldn’t kill her. The second week, however, would get uncomfortable. Now, by the third week, her body was likely screaming at her for sustenance.

Fu Jing understood very well how she was feeling. Perhaps he understood it better than she did, having lost his wife. It wasn’t so bad now, since he firmly believed she was alive… he just didn’t know where. But those years before he knew, he’d felt like a huge stone was sitting in his gut. If he didn’t have a strong sense of responsibility for his nation, he would have done what Mei Hua was doing now: just stay by the grave and waste away.

“Tell me about your friend.” He suddenly asked her.

She blinked at him in surprise.

“Why?”

“I only met her once or twice, I don’t know very much about her. I’m curious.”

Mei Hua bit her chapped lip, eyes reddening slightly, and then she began speaking softly:

“You know, Pei Pei comes from a family of slaves.”

Fu Jing’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Mm… I guess her great-great-grandfather was a gambler and sold off his son to pay the debt. The Wu Family bought him and stuck him in the kitchen…” Her gaze softened. “She always said that the heavens put all the bad luck at the beginning of her great-granddad’s life so that the rest of it would be smooth sailing. He did really well as a kitchen worker, became a top chef in the Wu manor before he was 25 years old, and managed to buy his freedom.”

“I take it he didn’t leave the Wu manor, considering who Madam Pei Zhi married.”

Her chapped lips almost curved up but failed at the last minute.

“Yeah. He stayed, married a slave girl working for the Wu’s, had a bunch of kids with her and then raised their kids to be servants of the Wu’s and so on. Up until Pei Pei, all her family were servants who worked in the kitchens. They passed down their cooking techniques to their children. Pei Zhi is— was—” Her voice trembled slightly, “—a cook, I mean, an excellent cook. Later, when she married Wu Tengfei, she didn’t have to cook anymore. She said she liked cooking but Madams of rich households didn’t cook, it looked bad or… or something. I guess. I didn’t understand that. If you’re rich why can’t you do what you want? But she didn’t want Wu Tengfei to look bad so she stopped cooking. I’d ask her to cook for me sometimes, because I knew she could use me as an excuse to… to do something she… she loved…”

Mei Hua’s eyes began to water and she lowered her head back to her knees and gave a shaky breath.

Fu Jing waited for her to calm down before asking, “If Pei Pei’s family were servants, how is it she and Wu Tengfei married? I’d think his family would oppose it.”

“Oh, that…” She raised her head and used the palm of her hand to wipe away the tears that were forming at the corner of her eyes. For the first time, her expression lightened. “Wu Tengfei, you know, he always looked soft and amicable on the outside, but he could be ruthless when he chased after something. I mean, look, how many 14-year-olds would come to these mountains and beg for an audience with a mythical mountain spirit which they believed regularly devoured people? All on the word of a servant girl claiming the mountain spirit had reformed? I know he was desperate at the time, but that kind of person isn’t normal, no matter how I look at it.”

“He was very brave then.”

“More like crazy.” She gave a light chuckle and then blinked several times, as if confused. She stared off into space before continuing, “They were friends from childhood. They always got along well. They would tell each other secrets that no one else could know.”

“Secrets?”

“Actually, I don’t know what secrets he told her, because she never told me.” Mei Hua sniffed, as if offended by being left out. “But she told him things like: what crazy things were going on in her family, or the gossip shared by the servants, or elders they didn’t like, family teachings and traditions they thought were stupid…”

“Hah, I can see why they kept that to themselves.”

In Greater Peak Country, as well as other central countries, part of the filial piety of a child was to never question their elders. That included any criticism towards tradition and family teachings. Doing something like that where others could hear would get one labelled as rebellious. A rebellious child was harshly punished and, when correction didn’t work, eventually disowned.

Fu Jing had never been the sort of elder who approved of that kind of filial piety. Perhaps because he was raised by a mischievous fairy spirit, but disagreement and debate were the best way to hone a young person’s mind and keep an old mind sharp. It benefited both generations to allow open dialogue.

“Yeah…. They got along really well but…. Pei Pei said she didn’t ever think of Wu Tengfei as a potential husband. Their statuses were too different. At best she could be his concubine, but being the 3rd son he wouldn’t be allowed to take a concubine. She didn’t want to be one anyway. Most of the women were maids in her family, they didn’t have to get married to survive.” Mei Hua sighed, an admiring look on her face. “Gotta say that Pei Pei was clever even as a child. Why fight over a husband when she could earn money, take her time, and pick a good man? She never put herself at a disadvantage.”

“Sensible of her.”

“En… it was Wu Tengfei who liked her from early on. He didn’t dwell on it when they were children because he knew it’d never work. But when he became the head of the household and the family’s success was directly tied into his, he gained a lot of power. Only his grandmother, Old Madam Wu, had any power over him. And he talked her out of matchmaking him with any outside families by saying their peers had all abandoned and abused them when they were low. Why should any of their daughters get to cling to Wu’s when they rose up? At least Pei Zhi and her family were loyal from beginning to end, and that proved to be the more important thing.”

“I’m surprised the Old Madam agreed. Usually wealthy families prefer to marry their sons and daughters in ways that expanded their power...”

Mei Hua looked thoughtful. “I wonder if she did agree…. You know, Wu Tengfei once asked Jin what he should look for in a wife. I remember because he was really shy and anxious about it when he asked. I thought it was funny.”

“How did Brother-in-law respond?”

“He said it was a stupid question.”

“........”

A real smile finally rose on the corner of her lips.

“Wasn’t he rude? He was really tactless when he was younger… er, in human years I mean. But from his perspective, it felt like a dumb question.”

“How so?”

“Because only the two people involved will know what they need and want. What other people think is irrelevant, unless you’re dealing with someone who lacks self-awareness and needs outside counsel. Wu Tengfei always had a good understanding of himself. From Jin’s perspective, shouldn’t Wu Tengfei know best what he wants in his wife? Why ask Jin? Especially concerning spouses, what both needed or wanted in a woman would be completely different.”

Fu Jing hummed. “That may be true but it’s usually the parents who decide the spouse. Unless Wu Tengfei’s Grandmother was willing to take the man’s opinion into account, she could marry him off to whoever she wanted...”

“True, in which case, what good would asking Jin’s opinion do? It’s not like Jin could go find Wu Tengfei’s Grandmother and tell her what to do about his marriage.”

“Ah. That’s a good point.”

She propped her chin on her knees and tilted her head, “Actually, I told him to answer Wu Tengfei properly and what I told you just now is what he said, more or less. Years later, Pei Zhi told me that the Old Madam agreed to their marriage because Wu Tengfei said the Emperor told him to marry his Pei Zhi. How could the Old Madam go against the mountain spirit? She was forced into accepting the match.”

Fu Jing frowned slightly, “But that’s not what Brother-in-law said...”

She chuckled.

“It’s not but how would the Old Madam know? And it’s not exactly a lie. Wu Tengfei had always wanted to marry his childhood friend and Jin told him not to bother with anyone else’s opinion. Therefore: Jin told Wu Tengfei to marry Pei Zhi.”

“What a convenient interpretation.”

“Isn’t it?” Mei Hua smiled for a moment and then her face fell back into sorrow. “I miss Jin.”

“Are you angry at him for not being here?”

She looked at him in confusion. “Why would I be angry?”

Fu Jing scratched his cheek, “I just thought… at times like this... you might be a little bitter…”

“No… never. It’s not his fault and, anyway, he needed the rest.” She put her face back into her knees, voice muffled, “I know how much he needed to sleep… not just for himself, but everyone, it’s better… so I don’t… I’m not angry. I just miss him.”

“I wonder when he’ll wake up.”

“Soon, I hope.”

“Mm.”

There was another long stretch of silence and suddenly Mei Hua stretched out her legs and stood up, Fu Jing hastily following her. She touched the tall urn that had the name Pei Zhi elaborately carved into its front, her fingers gliding across the curves of the words.

Mei Hua muttered to the urn. “I will visit you, always, I promise.”

“You’re ready to go home?” Fu Jing asked in relief.

“Yes.” She lowered her hand and turned her back to the urn, “You reminded me… I have left Jin by himself.”

Fu Jing didn’t state the obvious: it’s not like Jin would have noticed she was gone.

Mei Hua glanced back at him and smiled sadly.

“If I’m going to be sad anyway…. I’d like to be sad next to Jin.”

***

When word circulated that the Queen Consort returned to the Palace, everyone was finally able to put their hearts down. Her sons, in particular, finally felt they could sleep peacefully that night.

The third son, the eternal recluse Shi Ji, was the only one who wasn’t entirely satisfied.

His older twin brother, Yan Li, noticed Shi Ji’s discontent and asked in annoyance, “Why aren’t you happy Mother has finally returned home like the rest of us?”

“How can I be happy?” Shi Ji muttered. “Isn’t the root of the problem still there?”

“What do you mean “root of the problem”?”

“Mother wouldn’t be sad like this if she hadn’t gotten so close to a mortal.”

Yan Li frowned. “Aunty Pei Zhi was worthy of Mother’s friendship.”

“Worthy or not, she was still doomed to die. Mother knew it was going to happen too. She shouldn’t have done that, for her own happiness’ sake. It’d be better if she never made a friend with a mortal again.”

“That’s just your opinion.”

“Not opinion, look what she just went through!”

“That’s not what I mean. Maybe the grief isn’t worth it to you, but who says Mother felt the same way? Isn’t it likely she felt Aunty Pei Zhi was worth grieving for?”

Shi Ji retorted ruthlessly, “Nonsense! Where was Aunty so great and lofty it should cause Mother’s heart to break, starving herself and acting like a dead woman for weeks?”

Yan Li gaped at him.

“I thought you liked Aunty!”

“I do, but I love Mother more. That’s why it’s unacceptable for her to suffer like this. She can’t make friends with a mortal again otherwise this whole thing will be repeated!”

“Can’t? What are you going to do? Tell her who she can be friends with?” Yan Li gave a single laugh. “If the Old Man couldn’t do it, who are you to try?”

Shi Ji raised his chin defiantly. “Who says I’ll tell her?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aren’t there cultivators from Jiang Hu always coming over? Those people live hundreds of years, sometimes thousands. I’ll just introduce her to some of them.”

Yan Li couldn’t help being skeptical.

“You will introduce them?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have to actually talk to people to be able to introduce them?”

Shi Ji stiffened.

“I talk to people all the time!”

“The same people.” Yan Li narrowed his eyes. “Do you even remember how to talk to strangers at this point?”

Shi Ji’s face turned ugly and he lashed out with a leg, as if to kick his brother. This didn’t work, as Yan Li had always been the stronger one physically. Yan Li simply side stepped and grabbed Shi Ji’s foot by the ankle, causing the younger twin to stand awkwardly on his remaining foot.

“Shi Ji, no matter how upsetting it is, you don’t have the right to dictate who Mother befriends, just like the Old Man doesn’t have the right to restrict her movements.”

The younger twin pulled his leg at the same time Yan Li let go of it, causing Shi Ji to tumble backward and land on his back. Like a cat who’d fallen accidentally, Shi Ji quickly stood up and pretended like nothing had happened.

“I’m not the Old Man, alright?” Shi Ji glared at Yan Li, offended by the comparison. “I’m not saying who she has to be friends with, I’m just suggesting we…. Narrow down her options.” He then added: “It’s just to ensure she’ll be happier in the long run.”

Yan Li snorted. “There’s nothing more irritating than a person meddling for someone else’s good. Count me out.”

“But—”

“No. I won’t stop you from trying but keep me out of it. Unlike you, I have to deal with the fall out directly in my home. If my wife finds out I went along with you, she’d kick me out of the bed indefinitely.” He pursed his lips and muttered, “Not. Worth. It.”

Shi Ji gave him a disgusted look. He couldn’t help thinking, ‘I swear I won’t be this useless when I marry…’