枕冷衾寒
Zhěn lěng qīn hán
Cold pillow and lonely bed.
Cold and solitary existence.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The celebratory banquet was held in the large hall of another temple filled with long tables piled high with food.

Again, Sanli and Ermi were given places of honor, close to where the head priest and priestess sat.

Ming Lang was sat at a special table, with the other initiates. Sanli watched as she talked and laughed with those beside her, her smile bright. The prince found himself happy, just to see her happy.

He turned his attention to the banquet before him. As one of the tenets of service to the Green King was to not eat meat, all the dishes at the banquet were made purely from plants. There were breads made with dried fruits and nuts, and vegetables fried and sautéed with different sauces of all kinds. Everything was delicious, but much simpler than the dishes served to the royal family in the valley.

Although there was no meat, an attempt at a substitute had been made using bean curd shaped and fried. Kageyama picked up one such piece of imitation meat with his chopsticks and looked at it with disappointment.

"It's not quite the same thing, is it?" Sanli heard the kitsune mutter to himself, before placing the shaped bean curd in his mouth.

"Do you like it, Sho Sensei?" asked Ermi, oblivious, on Kageyama's other side. "It tastes just like real meat, doesn't it? Here, have more." Ermi heaped a generous serving onto Kageyama's plate.

Kageyama smiled wanly and thanked Ermi.

Throughout the banquet, Sanli could not stop thinking of the refugees he had seen in the courtyard today. Simple though the food before him was, it far surpassed the unappetizing food the refugees had been eating. If they had been eating anything at all. The thought dimmed his appetite.

On Ermi's other side, Ao also seemed to be lacking in appetite, something that shocked Sanli more than his own lack of hunger. He had never known her to not devour whatever was put before her.

No meat did not mean no alcohol, and the monastery was particularly famous for their buckwheat ale, brewed using pure mountain water. Liang'yi and Zakhar had ended up beside each other, and were now competing to see who could down a tankard of the famed ale faster. Around them a crowd of monks and nuns chanted for their chosen drinker in a very unholy manner.

Liang'yi put her mug down first and wiped her mouth with a satisfied 'ahhh', and the crowd around her cheered.

Sanli grinned at their antics. Then he glanced over at Ao just in time to see her stand with a soft excuse of being 'tired'.

"Ao?" Sanli questioned. If she heard him over the noise of the dinner hall, she did not show it.

Ao turned and left. No one remarked at her leaving.

Sanli's eyes crossed the hall once more and saw an opportunity to congratulate Ming Lang. He stood and made his way across the bustle of the great hall, around the servers with their trays of food and dirty dishes, dodging between the monks and nuns who were walking to and fro.

The prince sat beside his friend in an empty chair that it's owner had vacated.

"Congratulations, Nun Wen," he said, grinning.

Ming Lang turned to him, her cheeks rosy with drink. "Ahh, if it isn't the Little Leaf! Your majesty, I am in your service!"

Sanli laughed, "How much have you had to drink, Ming?"

"Enough to see just how handsome you are..." Ming Lang said, leaning toward him, lips puckered. Sanli froze for a moment, then laughed harder, catching her lips with his palm.

"Careful there. I'd hate for you to break your vows only a few hours after making them."

"Vows?" asked Ming Lang, confused. "Oh that's right! I can't lay with you. Well, we can just stand—"

Sanli buried his face in his hands, both to contain his laughter and hide his blush. "Bloody hell Ming, if you were going to be like this you should have become a whore instead of a nun."

"You know we were talking," said Ming, nodding at a nun across the table who smiled suggestively. "—and the vows only forbid you from lying with those of the other sex," Ming Lang slurred, reaching for her tankard. "They don't say anything about your own sex—"

"Alright, that's enough," said Sanli, pushing the tankard away from her. "Come on, up you go. It's time for you to return to your rooms, before you do something you regret, Nun Wen."

Sanli turned and called Zakhar over, who was not in much better shape than Ming. "Zakhar, help me carry Ming back to her rooms. She's had FAR too much to drink."

Zakhar obliged, and together the two men supported a protesting Ming Lang out of the great hall, along with other revelers departing for their rooms. Sanli saw several of the monks and nuns pairing off with each other, and wondered if Ming's speculation as to the exact limits of the abstinence oath was taken as truth by some.

Ming Lang drunkenly directed them to her quarters. Behind a small, peeling green door was a simple room, whitewashed, with nothing but a bed and a table and chair, on top of which a cracked basin and pitcher sat. There were none of the opulent decorations Ming Lang had grown up with on her family's estate. Initiates were not allowed to bring anything of their old lives with them.

Sanli held open the door as Zakhar carried Ming through and lay her on her narrow bed. The giant man turned to go, then hesitated, glaring back at Sanli.

"Can I trust you enough to leave you alone with her?" the bearded man rumbled.

Sanli grunted in exasperation. "Do you honestly think I would take advantage of my closest friend, who is drunk and has just sworn herself to nunhood? Is your estimation of me really that low?"

"It's pretty low," said Zakhar, giving Sanli one more suspicious glance before leaving to stumble back to the main hall.

"Go get drunker, you giant fool," Sanli muttered under his breath. He found a pitcher of water and poured it into the chipped ceramic cup nearby. Then he sat beside Ming Lang and held her shoulders up, so as to pour the water down her throat.

She coughed and spluttered. "Are you trying to drown me!" she asked indignantly, struggling to sit on her own. She swayed uncertainly, then fell against Sanli's chest.

Sanli sighed. "I'm trying to keep you from being sick in the morning. You have to wake up at dawn, remember."

"I won't be sick, I—" Ming Lang pushed away from his chest and looked around her sparse room, as if just realizing where they were. "Oh bloody hell. What have I done?"

She burst into tears.

"Hey! Hey, don't do that. Why are you crying?" Sanli wrapped the small woman in his arms and drew her to his chest. He briefly had an image of Ao, leaning into his chest in the emptiness of the old mill while Zhangyu looked on.

"This is it. This is my life now. For the rest of my life," sobbed Ming Lang against him. "I can't believe it. How could I have been so stupid? I didn't want to marry someone I didn't love. But now I'm alone. I don't know what is worse."

"It's not too late. The vows don't come into effect till sunrise. Want me to marry you?" Sanli said. He chuckled, but he himself was not sure if he was joking or serious.

"No," Ming sobbed. "No. I don't. I can't. I don't want to trap you in a loveless marriage."

Sanli gently brought his lips to the hair near Ming Lang's temple. "It would not be loveless. You know I love you, Wen Ming Lang."

"No you don't," she sobbed, tugging at his shirt. "No you don't. Not like that. I'm alone. I'm always going to be alone."

"Hey. Hey there, you're not alone," said Sanli, holding her tighter. Something in his gut twisted, as thought there was an animal there, struggling to escape. "I'm here. I'm here. Shhhh. I'll stay here until you fall asleep." He didn't know what else he could do.

Sanli lay back, Ming Lang against his chest. She continued to cry, until his shirt was wet. Until she had cried herself into a snuffling, drunken sleep.

Sanli lay there for a long while, heart heavy, listening to his friend breathing and whimpering beside him. He wondered if this counted as breaking her vows.

Finally, after his friend had at last fallen into an even, deep sleep, he stood, then pulled Ming Lang's coverlet over her.

As he was standing, a knock came at the door. Sanli knew immediately from the heaviness of the sound it was Zakhar.

"Why are you still in there with Ming?" Zakhar asked suspiciously as Sanli opened the door.

"She had trouble falling asleep. Why are you here?"

"Looking for you. So... it seems Ao punched the monk guarding your ancestor's tomb and went inside. She had several bottles of wine with her and appeared to be already drunk. I would have gone in myself, but the monks barred my way and said something about me being 'unholy'. They said you could go in and try and talk her to her senses before they send more monks in to drag her out."

Sanli laughed in surprise. "That doesn't sound that unlikely, actually." He sighed. "I'll go after her. Will you stay here and guard Ming Lang? I worry about leaving her here like this with her door unlocked."

In response Zakhar pushed his way inside and grabbed the single chair in his hand. Then he set it down in front of the door. "Leave it to me," Zakhar said with a salute, some of the ale he had drunk earlier still making his movements ungainly.

Sanli saluted back and then turned toward the Memorial Temple hall. Above, the sky had cleared, and an autumn moon shone down, bright and clean.

"What a terrible evening," Sanli sighed to his shadow walking beside him in the moonlight. "Why is everyone drunk but me?" But his shadow didn't answer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Inside the cave it appeared several monks had already attempted to go in and remove Ao. A mistake. One limped by with a bruised lip as Sanli made his way through the temple where they had held the initiation ceremony that day.

Another beaten monk sat on the steps just beside the altar, holding a wet cloth to a cut above his eyebrow. The rag was soaked with blood.

Wounds to the head always bleed a lot, Sanli told himself. He'll be fine.

The bleeding monk saw Sanli and grunted, then gestured to a small archway just behind the huge carved deer statue.

Through the archway was a narrow passage carved into the rock of the mountain. Sanli followed it into the earth, the air growing colder and damper the deeper he went.

After walking several hundred lengths, the passage opened up into a large natural cave, bare of ornament. The cave was illuminated by two huge braziers of oil that blazed brightly, filling the cave with the smell of smoke, though not as thick as it should have been. Sanli guessed there must be a smoke hole, somewhere high above, where the ceiling disappeared into darkness.

In the light of the braziers, Ao danced by a carved square of rock, a wine bottle in her hand.

Sanli recalled Ao saying she was a terrible dancer, that night in Meng'xiang, when they had joined the villagers for their firefly festival. He had to agree. What Ao did was not like a dance. It was like the throes of some wild creature that has been caught, and leaps and struggles to get out of its cage.

Yet there was something beautiful to it all the same.

Her steps moved and swayed as grass does in the wind. Like water pulled by the tide. To and fro. Too irregular to be planned or learned. A raw, untamed kind of dance.

As Sanli came closer he saw the wine bottles, scattered around the square of rock. Some were standing, and still half full. Some were tipped over, and empty. The green and blue glass of the bottles gleamed in the fire light, like glazed eyes.

Ao saw him and stopped her dancing. "Little Prince. Come drink with your ancestor and me."

She staggered, and pulled herself onto the square of rock, perching shakily upon the edge. Sanli realized what it was.

This is my ancestor's tomb. That must be his grave.

This cave was customarily off limits, so Sanli had never been here before. And for all he had heard of his ancestor, he had never thought about where he was now. Or what was left of him.

It was strange to think that the remains of a god lay encased in that stone square.

Looking closer, Sanli saw the tell-tale signs. An ornate pattern of leaves and deer had been carved into stone, though they had faded with time. The familiar words of the Green King's own seal were carved around the base, and across the stone lid on which Ao now sat.

Ao took a swig from her half-full bottle, then held it out to him, almost falling as she did so. "Come green-eyed prince. Drink to your ancestor. To me. To your little friend's initiation."

Reluctantly, Sanli stepped forward and took the wine from Ao's hand, if only for the purpose of separating her from the bottle.

Ao crossed her legs, and as she did her robe twisted, so the pale white skin of her thigh became visible in the firelight. She smiled at him coyly.

"Do you love her?" she asked.

Sanli knew she was referring to Ming Lang. He knew that Ao's recent behavior was partly due to jealousy.

"Not the way that you mean, no. She is a precious friend to me."

Ao threw back her head and laughed. "Hah. You do not look at her like she was just a friend."

Sanli sighed. "Perhaps she might have been more than that, once. But it is too late now. We have both changed. Both made decisions that led us away from each other." Sanli hesitated, wondering if he dared ask the question that was on his lips, that had been at the back of his mind for a while now.

He dared.

"Did you love him?" he asked.

Ao reached for another bottle, and finding it empty frowned. She turned it upside down to assure herself that no wine remained. "Who?" She asked.

"My ancestor. Lulin. The Green King. Did you love him?"

Ao froze. Then she laughed again, but it was a moment too late. "Oh, you humans. With your notions of love and devotion. Show even a little bit of loyalty, and everyone assumes you are madly in love."

"Were you?" Sanli pressed.

Ao snorted. "Hear that Lu?" she said to the stone beneath her. "Your little heir is here, thinking he understands me. How presumptuous."

"I want to understand you, Ao," said Sanli invitingly. "Won't you help me?"

Ao stood then, unsteadily, on the grave, and Sanli stepped forward to catch her in case she fell. "You don't. You want to use me. Just as they all did."

She spread her arms wide, like wings, as if to dance again.

"In the end," she said, turning, the empty wine bottle still in her hands, "we are all that we have."

Then, with a strangled laugh, Ao hurled the wine bottle in her hand away from her.

The bottle spun through the air, shattering with a crash and then a tinkle of falling glass against the cave wall.

As if exhausted by her throw, Ao staggered back. Her foot slipped off of the tomb, and she tipped backward, toward the cave floor.

Sanli was there to catch her.

Carefully, he lowered Ao's legs to the ground. Her too tall shoes were gone, lost somewhere, and her feet were now bare. Sanli eyed the broken glass on the opposite side of the cave, but it was safely distant.

When she did not stand on her own, Sanli lifted Ao in his arms once more, surprised by how light she was, even with her heavy robes on.

For the second time that night, he found himself with a drunken woman pressed to his chest.

"He always said he wanted to be buried in the forest, beneath the trees," Ao murmured, turning into Sanli's shirt. "Now he's here, beside her, surrounded by stone."

Sanli had turned to go, but at Ao's words, he glanced back at the stone sarcophagus. He realized it was wider than it needed to be. It was made to house two bodies.

That's right. The Green King had requested to be buried beside his wife.

A poem flickered across Sanli's mind. It was on his lips before he could stop it.

"Like a drunk reaches out to grab a star,
Like a destination that's far too far,
Like a tide that returns endlessly to the sea,
Always out of reach."

"I haven't heard that before," Ao murmured. "Did Lu write it?"

"No," said Sanli, forcing a grin. "I did. Do you like it?"

In his arms Ao gave a grunted laugh that ended on something like a sob. It echoed against the cave walls.

"Let's get out of here, Ao," he said, lifting the woman higher in his arms.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sanli woke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming through the windows. The rain was gone at last.

Beside him, Ao slept soundly on the pillow. He had brought her back to his room. Then, just as she often did with him, Sanli lay beside her until she fell asleep.

Sometime in the night, he too had fallen asleep.

Now opening his eyes, he heard a soft knock from the door, and realized that was what had woken him.

Sanli rose from the bed, careful not to jostle Ao, then padded to the door, pulled on his boots, and opened it.

Ming Lang stood outside, dark rings under her red, puffy eyes. "Could we talk for a moment?" she asked.

Sanli nodded, slipping out of the door, and shutting it softly behind him.

He followed Ming Lang as she led him across the small courtyard. His friend stopped beside a fallen pillar covered with bright green moss and sat upon it.

Sanli sat beside her, marveling at how the morning sun shone through the dew caught on the soft moss. Like crystals. Like diamonds cutting rainbows from the light.

"I... I apologize for last night. I can't remember everything, but I know I said some rather foolish things," began Ming Lang.

"You do not have to apologize for what you said while drunk, Ming. I have had my fair share of foolish wine talk."

"True," said Ming Lang, and they both laughed.

Sanli grew serious. "Are you happy Ming Lang? You deserve to be happy." He took her hand in his, and rested them both upon his knee.

His friend looked at him, and tears formed at the corners of her already swollen eyes. "I... I will be happy. I know. A quiet, peaceful life is all I want."

Sanli smiled. "If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. Just down the valley."

Ming Lang smiled back, squeezing his hand in thanks. Then her smile faded. "You deserve to be happy as well you know." Ming Lang hesitated. "She cares for you a great deal."

It is not me she cares for, Sanli thought, letting go of Ming Lang's hand. I am just a reminder of him. An inadequate replacement.

"She does," Ming Lang continued. "I can tell. You need to take a chance. You are too afraid to let people close."

"People tend to disappoint." Ming Lang's face flashed with hurt. "I didn't mean you, Ming," Sanli said, quickly reaching out and taking her hand once more.

"I did disappoint you," said Ming Lang. "I disappointed my parents as well. Everyone really," she said dully.

Sanli scooted closer to her, along the pillar, the dew on the moss soaking into his trouser leg as he did so.

He put an arm around Ming Lang's shoulders. "You are not a disappointment Wen Ming Lang," Sanli said softly, in a voice he only used for her. "Counting you as a friend is one of the things I am proudest of in my life."

Ming Lang gave a sniff. "Thank you, Little Leaf."

"Come," said Sanli, standing. "Let's go find breakfast."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Author's note HERE!