The night breeze felt cool against Lanyun’s cheek as he walked along the wooden terrace path of the lotus pond garden with Lianbing. Though only a day had passed, the leaves already appeared much healthier since he had added the fungicide, and the flowers bloomed brighter, appearing even more delighted to see him again. 

“I named this one Lianyi,” Lianbing said, pointing at a flower to her right with her fan. “The one beside it is Lianer. And that’s Liansan.”

“Let me guess, this one is Liansi?” Lanyun said, pointing at the lotus beside Liansan.

Lianbing gasped, stopping to look at Lanyun in disgust. “How dare you insinuate such a thing. Are you trying to welcome misfortune? That one is named Lianwu.”

“Forgive me, Your Imperial Highness, for that was very ignorant of me,” Lanyun said in mock repentance. He had always considered his grandmother to be the most superstitious, an unfortunate side effect from her occupation as a shaman, but it appeared that the celestials could give some serious competition for the spot.

“You are forgiven,” Lianbing said with a smug grin, blessing him with a wave of her fan. “There is a bit of a chill in the air tonight. Let us continue our conversation under the pavilion, where I will have Huahua bring us some refreshments.” 

Under the pavilion, there were four chairs and a round stone table. Lanyun and Lianbing took a seat across from each other as a servant approached them with a tray of two ceramic cups and a teapot. She then placed a cup before each of them and filled it with a steaming deep red liquid that smelled of cinnamon, cloves, and star anise. A few goji berries floated on the top of the liquid’s surface.

“Thank you, Huahua,” Lianbing said, dismissing the servant. She took a sip from her cup and smiled in content. “One of my favorite things to do is drinking mulled wine while looking at my lotuses.”

Picking up his own cup, Lanyun blew gently before drinking it. The aroma of the spices were not too overpowering, blending harmoniously with the hint of pomegranate and orange. It was also sweetened with some sort of syrup, concealing the bitterness of the alcohol. 

“I can see how one would enjoy this,” Lanyun remarked. “A delicious warm drink with a view of beautiful flowers.”

“These lotuses are like my family,” Lianbing said, staring at the flowers with a wistful expression. “I can still remember the first moments I spent with them. We were beautiful, unique from the rest with our pale blue petals, and Emperor Yushen had watered us diligently for many moons until one cold night, we were born.”

“We?” Lanyun questioned, noticing the unusual plural choice of the word. 

“Yes, I had an older twin sister you see,” Lianbing said, her expression growing melancholic. “Her name was Lianxue. And we ruled the winter season together.” 

“What happened?” Lanyun asked softly.

Lianbing shook her head. “It’s a long story.”

Picking up the teapot, Lanyun filled Lianbing’s cup to the brim. “We still have a lot of wine to finish.”

Lianbing sighed, smiling at his actions. “Well, there was this one white stag that my sister loved in the human realm. He was the guardian of the Qianlu forest. I visited there once with Lianxue. It was a beautiful forest filled with many animals and plants, where the trees grew as tall as a mountain, and the leaves would stay green even when winter arrived.” Lianbing’s smile faded. “But there was copper under the land, and the humans wanted it.” 

She took a sip of her drink, and Lanyun hurriedly refilled it as she continued. “An animal cannot withstand the rain of a thousand stone arrows, and with the guardian gone, the humans in the nearby village immediately began burning the forest. Lianxue tried to extinguish the fire with her snow, but it would always melt, while the flames continued to grow. Soot filled the air for weeks from the fires and stained her snow a permanent black.”

Lanyun held onto her every word with a bated breath. “And then?”

“You see, we celestials exist outside of the normal cycle of life,” Lianbing explained. “We emerge into this world with an eternal life blessed by the divine light that created us, but the corruption erodes away this light. And when we die from it, our essence ceases to exist, and we cannot enter the cycle of rebirth like other creatures. Just as our longevity may be permanent, so is our death. Still, I sit here, listening to my lotus brethren and imagine that perhaps, a piece of my sister might be amongst them somehow.”

“I believe that the grief was what ultimately killed her,” Lianbing said again after a long period of silence. There were a few glistening drops forming in her eyes. “Yes, she became a victim of the corruption too, but I don’t think that’s why she took her final breath. My sister died of a broken heart.” Lianbing sniffed and drained her cup. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lanyun said mournfully. “Is grief the cause of the corruption?”

“That’s one of the hypotheses,” Lianbing said. “It was my Imperial Father’s after Lianxue passed. He was worried that I would fall under it too from grief of losing her, so he came to visit me one day in my palace.” A soft smile returned to Lianbing’s face. “And in his hands, he held a small creature, which I had originally assumed to be a white fox. But he told me that she was a feifei, a creature who would alleviate my sadness. And I named her Riri.” 

Lianbing frowned as she recalled. “She wasn’t very good at what she was meant to do, but I found some use for her as a housekeeper. Besides, the human village also burned down too. They had underestimated the fire that they started, and their homes made from dry wood and straw easily caught aflame as the embers spread uncontrollably.” She laughed. “I’d like to consider it as divine retribution.”

Lianbing traced the rim of her cup and looked at Lanyun hesitantly. “I hope you understand that my distrust for humans comes from a place of reason. Every year, I listen helplessly as the fires rage and the birdsongs dwindle, and I summon the snow and the ice, yet the lands below me continue to disappear. I’ve even tried the occasional avalanche.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, what I’m trying to say, is that despite all that, I can still recognize when a human…contradicts my initial bias.”

“It’s fine, I understand,” Lanyun said, giving her a reassuring smile as he accepted her silent apology. He had already realized her true intentions during the extravagant dinner. “After all, I did end up a criminal of the celestial realm while trying to help my own sister.” 

Lianbing rested her chin on her hand and observed Lanyun. “So what is the story behind you and your sister?”

“For one, I’m hoping it’ll have a better ending than it did for you,” Lanyun said jokingly, receiving a small smile from Lianbing. “Her name is Lanfei, and she’s older than me by three years. Even though she wasn’t much older, she had to help raise me whenever our grandmother was busy. And even when we would fight or annoy each other, I always knew that she still cared about me.” Lanyun took a sip of his lukewarm drink. “I miss her.”

Lianbing refilled his cup. “Lanfei and Lanyun. Those are beautiful names.”

“My grandmother gave us those names,” Lanyun said. “She told us that it came from a dream she had of flying through clouds that billowed like waves.” 

“Maybe your grandmother wasn’t actually dreaming and had somehow been transported to the celestial realm,” Lianbing joked. 

“Maybe,” Lanyun said, but he didn’t seem to believe it. He stared out at the lotus pond, changing the topic. “Your garden is very beautiful. To be honest, I was surprised to see my favorite flower here too.”

“The lotus flower is your favorite?” Lianbing said, looking at Lanyun in surprise.

“Oh.” Lanyun blushed, realizing the misunderstanding. “I actually meant the astilbe flowers you have growing in the corner over there.” He pointed at the small clump of feather-like flowers in the distance.

Lianbing raised an eyebrow at his words. “Well I must say, that’s even more surprising. I had them planted for an old friend actually. For many centuries, I only had lotuses in this garden, but after he lost his own garden decades ago, I had a few of his flowers moved here, so that he would know he still had a place of refuge here.” 

“That friend is Renwu, isn’t it?” Lanyun guessed.

“Yes,” Lianbing said, looking at Lanyun in amusement. 

“Are you not afraid that his corruption might actually infect you?” Lanyun couldn’t help but ask. The question had been on his mind since she first mentioned it during the meal. “Especially after what happened to your sister. Grief is only one hypothesized potential cause. Since no one knows what is the true defining factor, shouldn’t you be more cautious?”

“I just don’t see any need to throw away a perfectly good friendship over what ifs,” Lianbing said, continuing to enjoy the view and her wine with a content look on her face. “I’m not particularly afraid of death if that’s what you mean. Flowers wilt and snow melts. The dryads rot and the elves fall into eternal slumber. Kings will come and go. Even the powerful inanis, who once ruled the lands that you call your home, have all been nearly wiped out. Nothing is truly eternal, so why should I worry about being the exception?” 

Lanyun quietly observed the celestial before him. A refined, graceful appearance with a noble character. Lianbing embodied the ideal celestial from Lanyun’s grandmother’s stories. She was like the winter, with a frosty exterior that could silence anyone with one look, but the snowy surface only served to protect the plants and soil underneath. 

Lianbing abruptly stood up, looking at the silver moon hanging overhead in the sky. “We chatted for so long that it’s later than I had originally anticipated.”

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. Is there somewhere that you have to be soon?” Lanyun quickly finished the remaining wine in his cup. 

“No, not me,” Lianbing said, gesturing at Lanyun to quickly move along. “You need to return to your room now.” 

Confused—and slightly worried—by Lianbing’s sudden urgency in having him leave, Lanyun quickly made his way back to his shedlike room. He immediately grew cautious upon seeing the door slightly ajar with a yellow light coming from within the room. Although it seemed unlikely that an intruder could somehow sneak into the Winter Palace and specifically target the room of a lowly human, Lanyun quietly opened the door and braced himself for a fight. Contrary to his expectation of a potential robber, Lanyun found a familiar figure sitting at the small table in his room. 

Renwu sat languidly in the chair, holding a piece of paper up against the candlelight to read.