The next morning, they began their journey to Longming Waterfall.

  The mountain paths soon grew too steep for horses, so they continued on foot—Xiāng Sī in the lead, Duàn Lán following behind.

  The trail wound through dense bamboo groves. Moss covered the stones, and the forest was thick, silent, untouched.

  Duàn Lán found himself marveling at how easily she moved—her footing steady, her pace effortless.

  (How does she know this path so well…? She walks it like it’s her garden.)

  He masked his suspicion with conversation, boasting of his many campaigns—his rank, his skill with a blade, the countless foes he’d slain.

  Xiāng Sī listened politely.

  As they climbed higher, the view opened. Below them lay the abandoned ruins of a village.

  (My birthplace…)

  A wave of memory struck her.

  (That village called me cursed. They tied me to a log… and threw me into the waterfall.)

  ◆◆◆

  My right eye was blind. My body, deformed. The villagers called me a demon.

  They fed me scraps, left me to starve, watched me with fear and disgust.

  Even my parents looked at me like I wasn’t human.

  The famine made everything worse.

  The Emperor’s conscriptions took our men. The drought stole our crops.

  And so, to call for rain, they offered me to the Dragon God.

  Bound to a log, I was cast into the waterfall’s depths.

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  I’d never known such terror.

  ◆◆◆

  The forest grew darker, thicker. The trail narrowed.

  Xiāng Sī paused to circle around a hornet’s nest, warning Duàn Lán quietly, “Stay silent. There are bears in this season.”

  Duàn Lán nodded, panting slightly from the climb.

  ◆◆◆

  After they threw me in… the rain still didn’t come.

  Hunger made monsters of the villagers. They began trading their children—so they wouldn’t have to kill their own—and ate them.

  Their bones were used as firewood.

  Still, the rain didn’t come.

  Then the men killed the women. Ate them.

  Still, the rain didn’t come.

  At the end, the last men killed each other.

  Only when the village was gone did the heavens cry. Rain came, washing everything away.

  ◆◆◆

  They were close now. The sound of water grew louder.

  “We’re almost there,” Xiāng Sī said gently. “Hold on a little longer.”

  Duàn Lán said nothing, but gave a brief smile. She could tell—he was proud, and didn’t want to show weakness.

  ◆◆◆

  And then—he saved me.

  A man with long silver-blue hair pulled me from the depths. He cradled me, weeping.

  He poured his tears into my mouth. And I lived.

  My body burned. I convulsed. Vomited. Screamed.

  My skin peeled away.

  Pain consumed me.

  Then sleep.

  When I awoke, he was still there. Waiting.

  He looked… unreal. Calm. Gentle. Not human.

  “My name is Cāng Xuán,” he said. “And you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have a name. They just called me cursed… a monster…”

  His eyes darkened with sorrow.

  “Then let’s give you one,” he said. “Xiāng Sī. It means Water Spirit. It’s fitting—you rose from the waterfall, didn’t you?”

  “Xiāng Sī…” I whispered. “It’s… beautiful…”

  For the first time, I felt warmth. Like I was human.

  That was the beginning—of everything.