Moss, so beloved by the poets, coated the boulders turning them into fuzzy cubs of an unknown beast. The slim jets of the water seeped through the cracks between the tallest monoliths to finger the green fur on their way down. A cherry tree bent over the pool at its feet to scoop water with its branches. They were already burdened with wet blooms, yet reached in, unsatisfied with the soak from yesterday's rain. The petals from the earliest, the most eager of its flowers, still dotted the ground with pink.

Xi breathed in the morning mist and breathed out, "It's pretty here." It sent Zijun into a splatter of giggles, just like the petals lured into falling by the wind.

"Oh, Xi, you are hopeless." She turned her back on the waterfall and the cherry tree. To him, she presented the side profile, perfected since their last meeting into porcelain smoothness. What's more, she tamed her once coarse hair into glossy silk.

A single strand curled down the length of her neck, tempting him to touch it, send it bounding towards its brethren caught by the jewelled combs and pins of jade. But the strand twisted loosely around a thin cord, too cheap to grace the collar of a courtesan of Zijun's fame, both disappearing into the silks. Xi tugged on it, to find the amulet he gave her once at its end. "You forgave me for leaving at least."

"I did."

The ultimate weapon of seduction, her eyes, remained glued to the wall dividing the Scholar's Garden in two.

The tireless sound of running water filled in the pause until he spoke into it. "I must return to the Serene Mother soon. We are working on 'The Method to Dragons', it is quite complicated."

A bitter sigh escaped her lips, but she did not shower him with complaints this time. He did not need to hear them, well aware of his guilt, the Empire's guilt. To the sound of water and her breath, his eyes closed, and his mind chased the fleeing peace.

The gauze sleeve whispered past his face and chest seeking out his hand. The cool touch of fabric, then the warm touch of her fingers - and, with it, tenderness devoid of hope - all passed in a flash, leaving his own fingers curled around a scroll of paper.

He opened his eye to look down on its crisp edge with an imperial seal.

"I would not have done it, but for gazing at these names day after day," she said and beckoned for Xi to follow. Together, they walked over to the point where the wall was not yet covered with names.

She brushed its gray surface with the hand that played qin and delighted men.

To one side of her, the symbols bit deeply into the stone, each stroke as dark as ink on paper. Further down, they faded, half-weathered away, down into centuries.

To the other side of her stretched the surface ready for those who would carve their names on it for centuries yet to come. The names of men who passed their examinations through trying and excellence and went on to take high positions in the Empire.

The names of men...

"You would not have done... what?" Xi asked, rolling the edge of the scroll between his thumb and forefinger.

"Betrayed a sister," Zijun replied. "The Ageless Empress gave me poison and an order to gain the confidence of the princes's mother. And so I did. Behind the bed curtains, I whispered into her ear, promising her the things that never return. Her beauty and youth, and the Emperor's eternal love."

Xi kneaded his twitching right temple. "I am no longer astounded or hurt by what my grandmother could buy. It's the price tag that interests me."

It was Zijun's turn to close her eyes, while he unrolled the paper and read out loud.

Our beloved friend Mistress Zijun of Zushulin known to the Celestial Throne for her impeccable qualities...

Xi held back a snigger. She was a courtesan, the soul of elegance, the celebrated diva of Sutao, but just like scholarship her station was illusory.

...to marry the ward of the Throne and the Empress, Chong Xi.

His grandmother did not waste flattery on him. No longer concerned with breaking Zijun's fragile mood, Xi laughed.

"Which one of you forgot that I am impotent?"

"Neither," Zijun snapped. "The enigmas concealed under your robes did not factor into the deal. Someone has to manage your estates while the mages wage war. I thought why should not it be me?"

"You thought... or the Empress?"

She pinched her lips into a thin line, cherry-red from her lipstick, probably ashen underneath.

He took her palm away from the wall, cradling it awkwardly in his. "I wish the marriage was real for your sake. You would have been happier."

She delicately slipped away, hand and all, freeing him from a feverish, heartrending elation the touch imparted. "I will search for my poet-love, the one who can fathom my qin. You will not care whose hand pushes aside the curtains by my bedmat."

"I think I will," he said quietly.

The blush overtook her cheeks, rivalling the rain-soaked blossoms. "I dreamt of it, but no, you won't. The scroll is a gift. Destroy it, for I have not the heart to set fire to my delusions."

Xi reflexively glanced at the scroll squeezed in his hand.

"Burn it!"

When he did not move, Zijun ripped it out of his grasp. The heat of frustrated love blasted him like a furnace through a mere touch of a fingertip. He was surprised the scroll did not catch on fire the moment it was in her hand. She tossed it to the ground as she would a scorpion. Her eyes continued to plead, not begging for concessions, but commanding through the power of her inner unravelling.

Xi understood. The paper burst into flames, curling up at the edges, tanning at first, then blackening. The pricey ink glowed golden against the paper before the words fell to ash.

Zijun turned her back on their small pyre the way she turned it on the waterfall and the cherry tree before that. Her gaze returned to the wall.

He did what she'd asked, and she turned her back on him.

Curse Jiang, Xi thought, curse us all...

He left Zijun standing in the Scholar's Garden, reading the long list of the men's names.