Chapter Twenty-Three — Return to Zhaoyao

　　Feng Xinzi, furious and drunk, stumbled into a tavern and drank himself senseless. In his mind Ruoshui’s face haunted him: her sleep-talk, her smile, her appetite, the way she touched the zither. He berated her for what he had imagined as betrayal and yet could not stop worrying.

　　He staggered back to the Yunan mansion in a stupor, but Ruoshui’s bed was empty. Sobered, a horrible premonition spread through him.

　　At cockcrow Tang Di, ready to take his post, met Feng Xinzi in the courtyard. “Where is Ruoshui?” Feng Xinzi asked Tang Di. In the drunken stupor he hadn’t noticed Tang Di was the man who had seemingly died and returned.

　　“She left with you,” Tang Di said, puzzled. They assumed Feng Xinzi had taken Ruoshui because staying in the city was perilous and Feng Xinzi might have escaped with her. Feng Xinzi, half-drunk, protested, “What do you mean ‘left with me’?”

　　Tang Di gathered his household to ask about Ruoshui. The steward remembered she had asked the source of the city’s water around midday.

　　“The moat,” Tang Di guessed. “She went to the moat?”

　　Feng Xinzi dashed off at once. The house watched him vanish, wondering if the rumors were true: was Feng Xinzi really an immortal? Tang Di and others rode after him; they reached the moat but Ruoshui was nowhere to be found.

　　“Ruoshui!” they called, voices echoing, unanswered.

　　At dawn someone spotted a sleeve floating on the water. Feng Xinzi arrived in a blur and found Ruoshui lying by the edge. Her face was deathly pale and soaked; the sleeve and her clothes were waterlogged. He was shaken clean of his drunkenness and fear replaced everything. He felt for her breath and her pulse with trembling hands.

　　She was alive, faint but alive. Feng Xinzi picked her up. Those nearby dared not move. They had seen a man who might be a god care for the woman they had failed to protect. For days Feng Xinzi nursed her himself, changing the bandages, cleaning the wounds. He stayed awake and looked ragged.

　　Days passed, and Ruoshui’s wrist wound scabbed and her color returned, but she did not wake. Feng Xinzi refused to trust anyone else with her care. He looked haggard. A month passed and still she slept. Meanwhile the plague in the city ran its course; when it ebbed people noticed something curious: the moat—called the Heavenly River—was thought to be sacred, and some whispered that the waters had protected the city.

　　Then the truth became clear to Feng Xinzi: Tang Di’s revival, Ruoshui’s bloodied wrist, Ruoshui’s act at the moat — she had nearly emptied herself into the river. The plague subsided. If it was merely suicide or despair, why go so far as to lay wrists in the water and bleed out? Feng Xinzi realized Ruoshui was no ordinary mortal. One person’s blood had saved a city; what she had forgotten was not small. No ordinary woman could do that.

　　He decided to take her back to Zhaoyao Mountain and hide her. Some things were better left forgotten. If she had been abandoned by the man she had loved, Feng Xinzi would care for her. He knew Ruoshui liked Yu Furong and Yu Lan by her side, but Yu Lan’s love had been requited by Tang Di; Yu Furong was happy to follow Feng Xinzi. So Feng Xinzi took Ruoshui and Yu Furong back to Zhaoyao Mountain.

　　The Sleepless City rejoiced in a new ruler. Some sage declared Tang Di possessed of auspicious star energy, able to pacify the realm and bring prosperity. He, having stayed with the people through plague and death while nobles fled, gained their loyalty. He proclaimed a new state, “Xing,” to restore the land and people; the sage became his adviser.

　　At Zhaoyao, in the Herb Valley, Ruoshui lay quiet. Feng Xinzi used the best immortals’ medicines; her wounds healed, her complexion improved, her pulse normalized — all signs of recovery except she would not awaken. She seemed like a sleeping beauty or the living dead.

　　“Ruoruo,” Feng Xinzi whispered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken you to the Sleepless City, shouldn’t have been arrogant enough to believe my skill could help, and I shouldn’t have left you alone to drink. Whether you were married or not, if he didn’t want you, I do. From now on I’ll be with you. If you wish to search for your past, we’ll search together. If not, we’ll stay put and watch the seasons change in the Herb Valley. If you hate that, we’ll travel the world and eat and drink as we please. Just wake up. If you wake, I’ll do anything you ask.” His voice became a pleading confession.

　　His greatest regret was not being with her when she resolved to save a city with her own blood. Soon he would understand that his deepest mistake was bringing her to Zhaoyao at all — one wrong step after another, irreversible, with no turning back.