Chapter 50 Rui
Rui
The mirrors around her flickered intensely, flashing a spectrum of colors. Dizzy from the new memories in her head, Rui tried
to stand, but the ground rumbled suddenly like a giant woken from slumber. The walls vanished, and the ceiling faded into
mist. Even the scent of the air changed.
She didn’t know how, but she was now on a mountaintop. Behind her, a white pavilion floated in the middle of a shimmering
lake in the distance. In front of her, old cypress trees rose, their crooked arms reaching for the sky. Stars twinkled against
the ethereal purple and indigo canvas on which an enormous red moon hung, and sunset hues of orange and pink streaked across
the low horizon, as if dawn and dusk were meeting as one. Rui hadn’t realized the underworld could be so beautiful.
The sound of rushing water drew her to the edge of the cliff. A deep gorge cut into craggy rock. It wasn’t a river at the
bottom, but a furnace of molten fire. She saw a narrow, rickety-looking bridge stretching across the furious flames, its other
end disappearing into the misty horizon. Small, glowing shapes fluttered above the bridge. Spirit butterflies. Souls returning
to the mortal realm.
This had to be Naihe Bridge. She had made it. But she was late. Significant time had passed since her arrival in the underworld,
and the Lady of the Pavilion was nowhere to be seen. Had she lost the chance to return home?
Just then, she spotted a tall figure in black, almost hidden by the trees and rock. It wasn’t the Lady, but—
“Zizi!”
He looked up, a soft smile easing his frown when he saw her. “There you are.”
Rui’s heart burst with light at the sight of him, and she sprinted down the mountain path, flying straight into his arms,
slamming into him.
“Oof! Guess someone’s happy to see me,” he said huskily, holding her tight.
He tried to release her from his embrace, but Rui clung to him, loath to be separated by even an inch. Now that she remembered
everything that had transpired between them—between Four and Lei Ying—every second together felt more precious and hard-fought.
Her voice was muffled against his chest.
“What are you saying?” Zizi leaned back, tipping her chin up.
“I said, I remember everything. I was sent to some forest, and I met a creature that pretended to be my mother. She tried
to trick me, but I escaped—it was you who helped me, wasn’t it? The red thread led me to this room of mirrors, and I saw everything.”
“What red thread? It wasn’t me—I didn’t do anything.”
“It doesn’t matter—” Rui laughed at his beautiful, confused face. “I remember everything. I remember you, Four.”
Zizi was stunned. “You remember our past?”
She didn’t know why he had that expression on his face. Was he upset? But he pulled her close again.
“I didn’t think it would work out this way,” she heard him murmur.
There was a hitch in his voice that she couldn’t decipher. Four must’ve blamed himself for everything and been haunted for
centuries. Maybe Zizi still carried that weight. She had to set him free from it.
It was his turn to resist when she pulled away. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said sternly, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
“She never blamed you. I don’t blame you.”
“But—”
“Shh,” she whispered, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Lei Ying didn’t die by her own sword.”
“She didn’t?” Zizi looked even more taken aback. “But the Elders . . .” His shocked expression turned into something else
Rui couldn’t read, as if what she’d told him altered his perspective on an important matter.
“What is it?” she said.
“Nothing. Tell me who killed her.”
“Emperor Burning Flame.”
“That bastard,” Zizi growled, eyes flashing. “If I ever meet his soul . . .” Blue flames rose from his hands.
Rui touched his arm, and the flames subdued. “Burning Flame and Lei Ying once shared a close friendship. She called him Xiao
Ran—Little Flame. And when the killing blow struck, she saw—I saw his face. He looked just like Yiran.”
“Song Yiran?”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
Looking troubled, Zizi turned to the bridge, staring into space. “It’s a cycle repeating itself.”
“Are you saying Yiran might’ve been Burning Flame in a past life?” she asked, but Zizi didn’t seem to want to answer.
Rui remembered Burning Flame’s regret, the way he was aware he’d gone down the wrong path but he kept going anyway because
it felt like there was no other way through. She was certain he’d spent the rest of his life regretting what he’d done.
“Even if Yiran was Burning Flame in his past life, he isn’t anymore,” she said.
Zizi looked as though he wanted to argue, but he only said, “I think it’s time for you to return home. I got you safe passage
across the bridge. And I’m returning with you to settle some unfinished business. I’m going to find the spell and destroy
it.”
Safe passage? It meant she wouldn’t have to give up treasured memories of her family. She should’ve felt relieved, but her
worry surged instead. She gripped his arm. “But I went through a ritual to come here, and Madam Meng said I have to make payment to return home. How did you get me safe passage? Nothing comes for free in the underworld. Did you make a deal with—”
Zizi cut her off. “We shouldn’t waste time—you need to cross over. I’ll explain everything later.”
He seemed to be in a hurry. Rui supposed it was best not to linger in the underworld. “All right,” she breathed out, staring
warily at the bridge. It was swaying over the flames, and her knees felt like jelly.
“Don’t turn back,” Zizi told her. “Keep going until you reach the end.” Smiling, he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her
ear, his hand resting briefly on her cheek. “We’ll meet again on the other side.”
She smiled back. Ignoring the river of fire beneath her, she straightened her spine, stared ahead at the horizon, and took
the first step.