"When we fought the Mountain Yue, their shamans commanded plague-miasma and serpent-swarms. The army issued talismans like this one to ward off their sorcery. This talisman saved my life once. Now the divine light has faded — it's nothing more than torn paper. That's the second thing."
"Mountain Yue warriors like to wear beast-bone and feathers and colored glass. I killed men and took these trinkets from their corpses. That's the third thing."
"Tomorrow I'll take this piece of glass to your Second Uncle and tell him Xiangping found it in the river. No matter what Li Yesheng may or may not have seen, we all swear under oath: it was only a shard of glass, nothing more — just something that glittered under the moon."
Li Mutian plucked out a jagged piece of glass and packed the rest away. He turned to Li Tongya, voice softening.
"Father thinks of everything," Li Changhu said with a nod. "Second Uncle is an honorable man. He sees the bigger picture. He won't make trouble."
"What a pity Li Yesheng is useless," Li Tongya murmured, glancing at his father.
Li Mutian placed the mirror on the table and shook his head. "Now we have to figure out how to use this thing — if we even can. We might be reaching for the moon and coming up with nothing."
Inside the mirror, Lu Jiangxian had heard every word. A plan was already forming. He could not move inside the mirror, could not free himself. If he wanted to find a path in the vast road of immortality — one that a crippled artifact spirit could also walk — he would need the hands and minds of mortals.
The Li family were farmers, shallow-rooted and unlearned — yet every one of their men stood out. The father, Li Mutian, had courage and foresight. The eldest son, Li Changhu, was smooth and generous. The second son, Li Tongya, was fierce and decisive, a man who would dare anything. Li Xiangping and Li Chijing were quick and clever. It was, all in all, the best possible match.
And anyway, he had no hands and no legs. He could not walk or flee. He could not very well choose someone else. Should he keep silent, let himself be tossed back into the river like trash, and spend a century in solitary darkness?
*No. I have to go north, at least take a look — even if only from a distance.*
He willed the current of qi inside him toward the upper-left edge of the mirror.
In the room, the Li brothers had been fussing over the mirror for a long while and getting nowhere. They handled it like blown glass, terrified of chipping it and losing their immortal chance. The moonlight pooled against its surface, cool and soothing to the touch, but it would not blow away and would not be drawn in.
Until Li Xiangping picked it up and brushed a finger across the mirror's face.
Lu Jiangxian channeled his qi. The upper-left corner flared white.
Li Xiangping nearly dropped it. He called out, frozen — unsure whether to hold it or put it down.
Li Tongya leaned in. A bright white arc had kindled along the mirror's top-left rim ��� thin at the edges, thick in the middle, eerily beautiful. It faded after several breaths.
"Brother, it glowed!" Li Xiangping's whisper crackled with excitement.
Li Tongya took the mirror and drew his finger across it the same way. The white arc came again. He passed the mirror to his father and nodded.
Li Mutian and Li Changhu each brushed a finger over it and marveled.
Li Tongya made a small noise. He took the mirror back from his eldest brother, turned away from everyone, and brushed it again.
"Father," he said, grave. "It doesn't matter where you touch it. The light always points north. It's like..."
"Like a lodestone compass," Li Mutian finished.
Inside the mirror, Lu Jiangxian clapped in his mind. *That boy's sharp — he gets it in one!*
"First, the village gate," Li Mutian said, stroking his beard. He turned back into the house and called out: "Fetch a slab of cured pork. We're paying the teacher a visit."
---
Li Yesheng wiped his eyes as he stumbled into his yard, kicking stones and cursing under his breath.
"Hiding some treasure, are they? A couple melons and they act like it's gold. Sneaking around with blades in the middle of the night — guilty conscience, the lot of them!"
He sat on a rock. A thought kindled.
"Li Mutian was gone for twenty years. You think he came back empty-handed? There's treasure in that house, I'm telling you."
He cracked his knuckles and schemed.
"And those bastards are all tight-fisted. You couldn't squeeze a grain of mud from between their fingers. The old man's stubborn as a boulder — won't drop dead, won't open his mouth. The day Li Mutian dies, we get our share!"
The courtyard gate swung open. His younger brother Li Yesheng crept in, head low.
Li Yesheng's eyes flared. "You! Get over here!"
He grabbed his brother by the collar and threw him to the ground. Li Yesheng rolled in the dirt, cowering.
"I hear you're friendly with that dog Li Xiangping. Tomorrow you go steal us a couple of his melons." Li Yesheng's voice was a snarl.
---
Li Mutian led his three boys from the tail of the village to its head. Neighbors called out from their doorways: "Uncle Mutian! Where are you off to?"
"Bringing the teacher a little something!" Li Mutian grinned, lifting the pork.
At the village gate, he scanned the surroundings, then laid a hand on Li Tongya's shoulder and Li Xiangping's. "Go," he said, low.
The two boys ducked and vanished into the thick reeds.
Li Mutian gazed into the distance, worry etched on his face.
"We should have told them," Li Changhu said. "If they see anything unnatural, they should turn back from a distance. Nothing is worth lingering for."
"Tongya knows his limits."
Li Mutian narrowed his eyes. Calculations flickered behind them.
He understood what tonight might cost him. He might lose two of his sons. But he would still have Li Changhu to carry on the line. And there was also the chance that both boys would return — bringing the Li family an opportunity to soar.
The conflict carved its way through him. He clenched his fists.
Two hundred years. For two hundred years the Li family had toiled this land, faces to the soil, backs to the sky. Li Mutian, out of cool reason, had made the choice that served the family's interest — and the choice was tearing him apart.
"Brother Li!"
A door slammed open. Han Wenxu the teacher stood in his doorway, a small bowl in his hands, staring.
"Teacher." Li Mutian's face bloomed into a broad, easy smile. He strode forward and set the cured pork on the wooden table.
"You shouldn't have," Han Wenxu said, beaming.
He broke off a piece of the pork, sliced it thin into a dish, and fried some salted vegetables to go beside it. The two men dragged out a small table, poured two cups of rice wine, and sat by the door to talk.
"Those immortals soaring through the sky — they don't come around anymore, at least," Li Mutian said. His shoulders relaxed.
Han Wenxu shrugged and smiled wistfully. "Immortals, ah."
"When I was twelve," he said, lips tightening, "an immortal came to town. He was looking for people with open apertures. Out of more than a thousand children in town, he found only three. He took those three away. Some immortal flying through the sky today — who knows, might be someone from my hometown."
"A rare immortal chance," Li Mutian said after a long silence, as though to comfort him.
"A rare immortal chance," Han Wenxu echoed, staring at the moon. "A rare immortal chance..."
Each man carried his private worries. They fell silent.