Chapter 21 Rui
Rui
Rui sat across from Madam Meng in a large room with shelves stacked with tins of tea. It looked unchanged since the last time
she had been here, when Zizi had come to get his migraine medicine.
“The ritual will only work if you have a true connection to the boy,” said Madam Meng. “You will not be physically present
in the underworld, only your mind and your sight. Pick a memory, hold it firm and clear. Then drink.”
Clutching the cup of tea in her hand, Rui latched on to the first thing that came to mind: the moment when she and Ada found
out that they were progressing to the top senior class in their cohort. She sipped. The tea was fresh like morning dew on
spring leaves.
Seconds ticked by, but she felt no change. Disappointed, she pushed the cup away.
“It didn’t work.”
“Giving up so soon?” Madam Meng tutted. “There is still tea in your cup, and another chance. Perhaps the memory you chose
was not significant enough.”
Just as Rui was about to protest, she remembered what the old lady had said.
An offering is a sacrifice to the divine universe. More specifically, it must be a sacrifice from yourself.
In all the folktales, all the myths and legends, the sacrifice made by a mortal seeking divine intervention had to be an equivalent
exchange. In this case, it wasn’t about Rui giving up an arm or leg, or even her life. This was a different kind of sacrifice.
The kind that woke you up in the middle of the night, your heart mourning inarticulately for its loss.
She took the cup and drank again.
Bitterness flooded her taste buds. Caught off guard, she coughed, trying not to gag as the tea turned sour and vinegary, like needles poking the back of her throat. She shut her eyes tight, holding on to her chosen memory.
A cozy autumn day, her mother holding her hand . . . Rui laughing as warm apple cider dripped down her chin, and her father
wiping it off . . .
The birthday before the one when tragedy struck.
She soaked in her emotions, reliving the memory. Gradually, she felt lighter and lighter, like she was floating in the air,
detached from her physical body. At the same time, something was fading inside her, losing its color until it was nothing
more than gray, empty space. There was pain. The wrenching, aching sort that felt worse than all the times she’d broken a
bone in training, or even when Ten had tortured her.
Tears rimmed her eyes. But the most frightening thing was that she didn’t know why she was crying, or why she was sad.
The memory, whatever it had been, was lost forever.
She heard Madam Meng’s voice, sounding as if it was coming from very far away.
“Think of him.”
Rui didn’t have to try hard at all to focus on Zizi. How could she ever forget him? His face had been imprinted on her from
the first time they’d met. Cheekbones and jaw finely sculpted, nose like the blade of a well-honed knife—he was all angles
and edges except for his eyes, the startling blue softening whenever he looked at her. His spontaneous, too-loud laughter
when something amused him, the off-kilter smile that showed itself at the most random moments. He was perfect in all his imperfections.
She remembered the teasing look he had whenever he called her by that ridiculous nickname, Rooroo, the one he’d come up with to annoy her. It was a silly term of endearment that set her apart from all others, that told
her she was special to him. What wouldn’t she give to hear him say it again?
She felt herself lurching forward, shooting through the air like a bottle cap popping off. Something was pulling her, like an impatient guide dragging her along.
Then everything went still.
Rui opened her eyes. Her stomach did a flip as she realized she wasn’t in the tearoom anymore. The sheen of the black walls
of this dungeon-looking place was wickedly pretty. A narrow flight of stairs spiraled up behind her, and a set of doors like
an elevator’s was set into the rock a few steps to her left. The place was dark—no, it felt dark. But it wasn’t the absence of light that made it so. It was the deep feeling of dread that pressed down, as if it was
trying to squeeze the life out of everything.
This was the underworld.
Rui shuddered, trying to tamp down her growing fear. The tug she had felt earlier seemed to urge her toward the corridor.
It was a hook in her chest, the line reeling her in. She didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t like the thought of being
such an easy catch. But it’d become so strong she couldn’t have fought it even if she wanted to.
She moved forward, but her feet didn’t touch the ground, and when she tried to touch the wall, her translucent hand went right
through it. Madam Meng said she would be an incorporeal presence; perhaps this was what she meant. Concentrating on the tug,
Rui bobbed along, like a balloon tied to a string.
Voices trailed in the stale air.
“. . . Who cares?”
“Watch your mouth . . .”
“. . . need some fresh air . . .”
Footsteps drew close.
Rui floated into the shadows, hoping the owners of the voices would not come her way. But she didn’t have to worry. When the
two guards appeared, they walked right by her to the elevator.
They can’t see me. Reassured, she turned back to the corridor.
“Do you really think the mortal boy will die?”
Rui spun around so quickly she became dizzy. Were the guards talking about Zizi?
The taller guard shrugged. “They brought him here to break him. I say he doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Why doesn’t he submit to the Fourth King and get it over with? Why suffer like this?”
“Feeling sorry for our prisoner, eh?”
“He’s just a kid.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Don’t you find the whole thing weird? Any mortal would’ve crumbled the moment they entered the
Obsidian Cavern, but he’s hanging on. There’s something strange about him.” The doors to the elevator opened, and the guards
went in. “He doesn’t feel right to me, maybe he’s actually—” The doors closed, cutting off whatever else the guard was saying.
Rui couldn’t move.
Zizi was here and the guards had called him a mortal boy. Had there been a mistake? Was he not a King?
They brought him here to break him. I say he doesn’t stand a chance.
This was her fault. If she hadn’t made that treacherous deal with Ten in the first place, if she—
Get a grip. She couldn’t waste the precious memory she’d given up for this, and everyone in the mortal realm was counting on her to find
out more about the Hybrids’ spell.
The path turned sharply, ending in a large cavern shrouded in black rock. Stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling
and uneven ground, and a single enormous pillar stood in the middle. Rock splintered from it like the roots of an ancient
tree, forming a thorny prison. A young man dressed in ragged black robes was inside. Strung high up against the pillar, his
limbs were shackled to the column. His body was limp, his head hanging down as if the muscles in his neck were no longer working.
Her soul whispered to her heart, I’ve found him.
They had a true connection after all. The pull that had guided her here had been coming from him.
Rui grabbed the barricade of rock, but her hands passed through. How was she going to get to him? You’re having a vision. Anything is possible. Maybe it was like dreaming, the kind where you could manipulate your surroundings. Abandoning her normal sense of perception,
she blinked hard and found herself inside the cage.
Zizi’s eyes were closed, but he was breathing. Shallowly, painfully. He looked fearful, as if trapped in an eternal nightmare.
Up close, she could see the silvery-white strands streaking his dark hair. The same color as the Fourth King’s in her dreams.
Gently, she brushed her hand against his head, and then his cheek. Her translucent fingers passed through him, yet she couldn’t
help but think he had to know she was next to him.
Zizi, she whispered.
He seemed to stir.
Was she imagining it out of hope or despair? She was just a wisp of air with no strength or weapons, nothing to blast through
the obsidian prison. She couldn’t free him. Not now, at least. But she would save him, no matter what. Could her spiritual
weapon break his shackles? Madam Meng might know.
I’ll come back for you, Rui told the sleeping boy.
Again, she caught an imperceptible shift in Zizi’s expression, almost as if he’d heard her. Something red caught her eye.
The threads he used to wear around his wrist were still there, and it made her look at her own.
She cried out in surprise. Her string was glowing. Before she could do anything, a curtain of fog descended on her vision. Was it time to return to the human realm?
I’ll come back for you, she said desperately, reaching for him. Stay alive.
Stay alive—for me.