“Ying-tai,” a voice called from behind.

Ying-tai spun around. He was in a confused state. “Where am I?” He questioned the person who called him.

“Ying-tai,” the voice came closer. Ying-tai was very cautious at this point. He prepared to defend himself. When the person came closer, their face became clearer to Ying-tai. His eyes widened and he fell onto his knees at the clear view of the person’s face.

“My king,” Ying-tai exhaled. “Is it…can it be…really you?” Ying-tai lowered his head to him and saluted while his heart cried, “Forgive my absence in your time of need! I came as fast as I possibly could…yet I…yet I could not even give you a proper farewell.”

The Emperor didn’t seem to hear Ying-tai’s words for he only continued to smile warmly down at him, “Listen, for our time is sparse.”

Ying-tai raised his head and found them both standing over a still lake that was so clear it mirrored all the life above it. It seemed to be the break of dawn and there was a sheer fog that veiled the surface of the waters. He peered deeper into the waters and his eyes shot open at the horrifying sight. He drew back, his chest heaving.

“What is the meaning of this?” He gasped, his eyes still stuck onto what was beneath the waters. While his eyes were down casted, he noticed the reflection staring back at him was not his own. He jerked and moved back and felt he wasn’t in his own body. Ying-tai raised his arms before him but instead of seeing his hands, he only found a pair of wings flailing clumsily. “Your majesty,” he looked up at The Emperor who didn’t pay any mind to his panic. He stood a lot taller than Ying-tai remembered.

“What you see are all of the bodies that have passed during the years of the terrorizing war,” The Emperor began. “Do not be frightened. Do not cast your eyes away from them for they were once dear ones.”

Ying-tai returned his eyes to the millions of bodies of people beneath the still waters. The Emperor bent down and lovingly caressed the water below his feet, sending a soft, rhythmic ripple across the quiet lake. Ying-tai looked below The Emperor’s feet and quickly recognized the familiar face of the only mother-like figure he knew.

“Empress,” Ying-tai whispered. He tried to walk toward them but his flimsy legs wouldn’t take him closer.

“The war must end,” The Emperor stated, “for all things shall meet its ceasing time.”

Ying-tai was still helplessly trying to make his way closer to The Emperor and Empress. Though his soul was in such a distressed state, the silhouette of his new body stood tall and entirely poised. He opened his lips to tone something out, but only the chirp sounded. Not being able to express himself in this brief moment, Ying-tai felt himself get frustrated.

The Emperor rose and turned to look at Ying-tai who was in the form of a heron. He walked to Ying-tai, cupped his bill, and lifted his bowed grieving head.

“Lament not, son,” The Emperor consoled. A swimming fish came upon them and The Emperor laid his eyes on it, “Still your anger. Have perseverance and faith through all the prosecution and trials you are and will be enduring.” The fish was approaching closer to Ying-tai and The Emperor, both frozen in frame. The Emperor made a move, lowering his hand slightly, “For if you hold onto what the gods see righteous in you and change the hearts of men with it,” he swept his hand under the water in one motion and grasped the oblivious fish in his hand and raised it upward, “in time you will be rewarded for which you are suffering.”

As The Emperor said that and raised his hand with water droplets glistening around them, Ying-tai slowly turned human again before the water beads could touch the lake’s surface. On his hands and knees from the transformation, Ying-tai gasped and lifted his head to The Emperor. The healthy, plump fish in his hand began to change form and turned into a small, bony fish. Even with its little body, it tried to gnaw The Emperor’s large hands but caused no effect.

“As it is a world befallen to evil, you will meet with those who will not change their ways. But, you must not be disheartened by these people.”

“Prince Jiao Long,” Ying-tai’s voice was finally able to tone. “Must I go against him? He is my brother,” he expressed. “And…” Ying-tai paused, “Princess Xiu Juan…”

The Emperor turned his head to Ying-tai.

“I’m…I am sorry about Princess Xiu Juan. I couldn’t protect her…” Ying-tai’s head was bowed in shame as he clenched his fists.

Another heron soared from the sky and gracefully fixed itself by The Emperor. It lowered its head to him as it approached closer and bowed its head toward his hand.

“Ah, do not pity. For a warrior may take a city, but a patient person,” The Emperor turned his head to the heron beside him and stroked its head, “can move a mountain with each little stone they bear.”

Ying-tai raised his head and was startled by the heron before him with the bony fish in its mouth, waiting for him to take it. The Emperor motioned him to accept. Ying-tai paused, tossed his confusion to the side, and then formally bowed his head to receive the fish. The Emperor nodded, pleased. When Ying-tai raised his eyes again, the feathers of the heron before him were no longer feathers anymore, but fine silk gliding across the surface of the water. He smelled plum blossoms in the air and shot his head upward. The heron was no longer there, but he was familiar with the silhouette of the body descending from him. He widened his eyes. Her back was to him while she stood by The Emperor confidently. He took her hand and they prepared to leave.

“Wait,” Ying-tai called out, “Please, don’t leave yet. I have so much I’ve yet to say!”

The Emperor smiled warmly at him, “Ying-tai, son. The days to come will be hard on you. But do not be afraid, for mountains are already being moved for you.”

Ying-tai got on his feet. “But the fish?”

The lady turned around at this. Everything was unapparent about her, but her eyes held the definite attribute that his wholeness forever worshipped and will always recognize.

“Princess Xiu Juan…” Ying-tai’s heart pounded hard.

“Brother,” her soft voice toned. She smiled at him benevolently and bowed her head to him before continuing on with her father.

“Princess Xiu Juan, wait!” Ying-tai called for her. He couldn’t feel himself move. Someone or something was pulling him back from The Emperor and Xiu Juan. He desperately fought to move forward, “No! Princess Xiu Juan, wait! Please, don’t go!” Suddenly, his body dropped into the depths of the lake, his hand still extending out before him while his cries were being muffled by the waters.

Ying-tai swung to his side when his consciousness jerked awake. He gasped for air, still recovering from the drowning simulation from his dream. He lifted his head and placed his eyes on the red envelope from the Imperial Court on the small table by his bedside. He furrowed his brows at it.

“Unfortunately, that wasn’t a dream too,” he cursed to himself.

“Ying-tai!” Xia’s voice came from behind the drapes of his tent.

“Come in.”

Xia lifted the drapes to the side and lowered his head when he saw Ying-tai. “Our troops will be ready to leave by this afternoon. Preparations have been made for our campaign to secure the southern borders of Chu.”

“Excellent,” Ying-tai said as he rose from his bed and to his feet. “I’ll meet with you guys shortly.”

Xia nodded his head then glanced at the red envelope by Ying-tai’s bedside. The cutting news was delivered just yesterday and yet they had to carry on with their mission as though nothing happened. He looked at Ying-tai who began to dress.

“Is there something else you want to tell me?” Ying-tai noticed his stare.

Xia straightened his posture, “No. I was making my way out.”

Ying-tai turned around and looked at him for a bit. “Xia, we have been friends since we could hold a sword. To keep this quick and simple, as a man to another man I ask for you to not feel sorry for me.”

Xia lifted his head and opened his lips. He knew Ying-tai would be able to read him. “Forgive me. I did not intend to make you feel uncomfortable like that. I will remember this.”

“Thank you,” Ying-tai lowered his gaze and returned to dress himself in his armor.

Just before the sun reached its highest peak in the sky, Ying-tai mounted his dark horse and whipped his reins to set their operation in motion. Huian was behind him on his left while Xia was on his right. They quietly rode together through their seized lands of Chu. Some blood was still fresh on the ground despite of the rain they had and with the humidity the metal-like smell filled the air. As distasteful as it was, this also meant that the flags of Qin will stay risen and undisturbed on these grounds.