Chapter 43 Zizi
Zizi
Zizi stared at the row of tiles in front of him.
There were thirteen of them. Fourteen were needed to win.
He’d played mahjong in the human realm with fellow magic practitioners, and it was over such matches that gossip was exchanged,
secrets were traded, and alliances made. But it was one thing to play against human opponents and another thing altogether to challenge gods.
The Elders and the single Celestial were skilled players, cautious about the tiles they threw out, never ceding the advantage
to their opponents. Zizi had won some rounds, but he’d lost more.
It was hard to concentrate. Empress-Mother kept her silver globe on Rui, and Zizi couldn’t help staring at it as it hovered
next to the Elder. It was an obvious tactic to distract him. But he couldn’t look away.
Rui was still trapped in the Forest of Remembrance, and he saw her curling up on the ground. She lay motionless for so long
that his mind spiraled through every terrible possibility about what was happening to her.
“Hu!” Emperor-Father said triumphantly, flipping over his remaining tiles. He gave Zizi a slithery look that reminded Zizi
of Ten. “Thanks for the assist.”
Zizi cursed. He’d foolishly given away a tile the Elder needed to win, and he was now even further behind in the score tally.
If only he could get a big hand—like the Four Blessings or the Three Dragons or the Thirteen Wonders.
Dammit. He had to focus. But as the tiles were shuffled over the green-felted tabletop again, the silver globe flashed.
Rui was standing in front of a dilapidated temple infested by banyan trees.
Zizi’s gut pinched with cold certainty. Something bad was inside there. Stop, don’t go in. He watched helplessly as she started to pry apart the tree roots at the temple’s entrance.
“Just because you’re losing, it doesn’t mean you should destroy our mahjong tiles,” Empress-Mother scolded.
Zizi startled, following her gaze to his hand. He’d been squeezing the tile so hard that the ivory was starting to warp.
“Do you intend to keep that tile or not?” she sniped. The Celestial next to her shimmered as if they, too, were impatient
for Zizi to decide. “An opponent lacking in focus and strategy makes for a game lacking in style and substance.” She sniffed
haughtily. “Perhaps he does not belong at our table. Perhaps he is not worthy.”
Cold logic sank in. If he lost, everything would be truly hopeless. The only thing he could do to help Rui now was to win.
“Get rid of that damned globe, and I’ll show you how worthy I am,” he snapped.
With a snide smile, Empress-Mother gestured, and the globe disappeared.
The game moved faster. Tiles clattered. Hands moved swiftly, eyes sharpened, breaths were held—one draw, one discard, tension
rising with every snap.
Tempers were starting to flare, and after what seemed like a series of wrong moves, Zizi slammed the table. “This is stupid.
I don’t understand why you won’t just let me return to the mortal realm to settle things. Why must I go through this charade?
We’re wasting time with this game—I need to destroy that talisman. Now.”
Emperor-Father regarded him with disapproval as he put out a tile. “Your refusal to let go of the humanity you have developed—your
human desires and wants, the emotion you think of as love—that is why the Nothing has not retreated. That is why your siblings and the Courts are suffering. Your first and most important
duty is to the underworld and the family. We will not prevail against the Nothing until you fully restore your powers.”
“There’s nothing wrong with mortals and their feelings of love,” Zizi said, stubborn.
Empress-Mother wrinkled her nose delicately. “It is weakness.”
Zizi was reminded of the story he’d told Rui in The Reverie’s library. The tale of jealous gods who sought to punish innocent
mortals. The gods in that story had split the mortals into two, so that each would spend their entire life searching for their
other half. Were the Elders similar? If so, he should pity them.
“You’re envious,” he said, looking at his opponents. “You all are. You’ll always be hollow, but the mortals can be whole.”
The Celestial’s golden glow dimmed, and Empress-Mother looked offended.
But Emperor-Father laughed scornfully. “Envious? Not at all. Mortals are full of negative emotions and fears, especially the
fear of death, even though it’s a natural part of life. Their fear is so deep, their regrets so enormous that they created the Blight themselves. It only exists because of them. If the Blight had nothing to feed on, it would cease to exist.”
Empress-Mother turned to Zizi. “Returning to the mortal realm will only weaken your power.”
“But the talisman disrupts the balance—” Zizi began.
“The underworld will suffer for a while, but as I said, we will prevail,” Emperor-Father interrupted, shooting a disdainful
look across the table. “Why do you care so much about humans and their world? They are selfish, shortsighted creatures who
do the worst things to each other for their own gain. When their souls arrive in the underworld, we bear witness to their
mortal misdeeds, we watch as they grovel in regret and self-pity and pay their dues. They claim repentance, but then they
drink Lady Meng’s tea to forget their past lives and everything they did. They wipe their slate clean, only to go back to
the mortal realm to start life all over again with those same flaws lodged in their souls, doomed to repeat the same mistakes.
It is in their very nature. You cannot protect them from themselves. You cannot save all of them.”
He took a breath after his thunderous rant, tossing out a tile irritably.
Zizi didn’t doubt what Emperor-Father was saying. It was true that many mortals had shown themselves to be undeserving of grace, and hadn’t they caused Lei Ying’s death because of their ignorance and bigotry and lust for power?
Why do you still risk your life to protect them?
Because it is the right thing to do.
He could not forgive, and he would never forget. But for her, he would try.
He stared at the row of tiles in front of him. Thirteen in hand, fourteen to win.
One three, one four.
He reached out to the table and picked up the tile Emperor-Father had discarded, slipping it into his own row.
“I’m choosing to save just one,” he said quietly. “And if in the process other mortal lives are saved, so be it.” He flipped
the row of tiles, showing his hand. “The Thirteen Wonders.” He nodded at Emperor-Father. “Thanks for the assist.”
Stunned silence fell over the table.
Emperor-Father sputtered, “The mistakes you made—you were leading us astray, distracting us, weren’t you?”
Zizi smirked. “Or I could’ve been twice lucky. I guess you’ll never know.”
The cold metal around his neck, legs, and back retracted.
“I believe I just won,” he said, rising from his seat. “Now for my reward. My one request is for both Rui and me to cross
Naihe Bridge safely into her realm. As for my question . . .” He smiled devilishly at the Elders and Celestials. “Tell me
about the first time I played this game with you.”