With the celestial lord Song Jue — the man I'd spent one moonlit night with — now pointing his silver sword at my throat.
I tilted my head, letting the blade slide past, and looked at the beauty before me: robes half undone, red marks scattered across his skin. Song Jue! Don't play innocent after getting what you wanted. Have you forgotten how eagerly you used to call for me? You're probably thrilled right now, not that you'd admit it.
At that, three parts of irritation crossed Song Jue's exquisite, impassive face. He stopped hesitating and moved to strike — hard.
I nearly laughed. I was the War God. Why would I lower myself to bickering with a slender young man who couldn't carry a pail or swing an axe? I shot him one withering look and bolted.
The memory of that reckless night still coiled warm around my thoughts. He had been the one calling out to me, asking me to hold him. And now he woke up and didn't recognize me.
Still, I was the one who felt guilty. Between Song Jue and me, the fault had always been mine.
* * *
My name is Yi Ning, Princess of the Jiang Kingdom. The day our kingdom fell, I stood at the top of the city walls and drew my blade across my own throat. I refused to jump — a death plummeting through open air would have been far too undignified for someone of my reputation.
What I hadn't foreseen was that I would become a ghost. Worse, I became a ghost trapped within the walls of Jiang's imperial palace, unable to take a single step beyond its gates.
The stars wheeled overhead. I lost count of the years, of the dynasties that rose and crumbled around me.
And then Song Jue arrived — the only living soul who had ever seen me. He was the seventh prince of the Song Dynasty, unrecognized, unwanted, and burning with fever the night we met.
His eyes were glazed with heat, his voice thin as smoke. But he looked straight at me and asked, "Sister — have you come to take me away?"
He can see me? Thousands of years of loneliness cracked open in an instant. I flung myself toward him. "Boy — you can actually see me?"
Song Jue's face turned red. He leaned back just slightly.
I couldn't stop myself — I reached out and touched him. And the miracle of it seized my breath: I could feel him. After thousands of years, I felt another person's warmth beneath my hands. I never wanted to let go.
"Sister," Song Jue rasped, his voice rough and faintly aggrieved.
I studied his face — young, already startlingly handsome — and felt a deep, delighted satisfaction. I ignored his discomfort entirely, the way one ignores the protests of a beloved new toy.
His face grew redder and redder, until he lost consciousness. I nearly panicked. The boy is still sick. How did I forget that?
I was, after all, a thousand-year ghost of considerable cultivation. I pulled myself together.
I slipped into the imperial physicians' hall, rummaged through their stores, and chose the herbs myself, then set a pot to boiling in the dark. It was the dead of night — any earlier, and I would have frightened someone to death.
I fed him the medicine, and then I stayed to watch him, unable to resist touching his face again. I told myself I was keeping watch. In truth, I was simply too excited to sleep.
Dawn crept in. I felt the first faint edge of exhaustion — and just in time, the boy woke. His skin had cooled to something like jade-white, clear and glowing.
I grinned and squeezed myself onto his bed beside him. "You owe me your life. The only proper repayment is to offer yourself to me. You understand that, don't you?"
Song Jue scrambled sideways, face burning. "Please don't say things like that."
I pulled him back and wrapped my arms around him. "I stayed up all night watching over you. I didn't sleep a moment. The least you can do is let me hold you while I rest."
He stopped fighting. I fell asleep with a very satisfied smile.
Humans are so warm. So wonderfully soft.
I hadn't slept so well in ages. As a ghost, I couldn't feel temperature — but touch Song Jue, and thousands of years of forgotten warmth came rushing back to me all at once.
I woke in a state of bliss and spent a while simply playing with his long, elegant fingers. His face was composed, almost serene — except for the tips of his ears, which had gone faintly red.
"Since you called me Sister," I told him pleasantly, "you belong to me from now on."
Before he could refuse, I pressed on: "Sister is very capable. If you're my person, I'll give you whatever you want. Anyone who bullies or humiliates you — I'll end them. How's that?"
Song Jue stared at me, struck dumb. He had that enchanted look of someone being talked into something against their better judgment. I smiled wider.
"What does Sister want?" he finally asked.
Sharp kid.
I tilted my head with a smile. "What can you give me? Really, all I'm asking for is someone to sleep beside, someone to talk to."
Song Jue put space between us. "No."
From my human days to my ghost days, no one had ever refused me.
My expression cooled. "You dare refuse?"
He was not afraid. He turned his face away. "A gentleman does not dally without propriety."
I burst out laughing. I needed him — because he was the only one who could see me, the only one I could touch — but beyond that, I was starting to realize this boy was genuinely entertaining.
"Ha! I have no interest in that skinny frame of yours. I only mean sleeping. Literally sleeping. You know I'm a ghost — I just miss the warmth of people."
I was simply stating a fact. No self-pity intended. But Song Jue looked at me quietly, something soft and pitying shifting across his face. Then, softly: "All right."
Whether it was pity or something else didn't matter. I had what I wanted.
I ruffled his hair, stood, and took his hand. "Come on. Sister's taking you to eat something good."
* * *
Song Jue was a well-behaved companion. Most days he simply stayed in his chambers and read.
My routine, on the other hand, consisted of two things: ransacking the palace for treasures and good food to shower on him, and clinging to him, holding him, touching his face. These were my only hobbies.
Song Jue was clearly unused to it. Every time, the tips of his ears went red.
I didn't care. As long as I was happy.
I fed him a grape and propped my chin in my hand, studying him. "You really do get more beautiful by the day."
His hand paused on the page. He kept his eyes down, but I had a perfect view of his ears — red enough to bleed. "Sister, if you're bored," he said mildly, "perhaps you'd like to find a book to read."
My phoenix brows snapped together. "Are you mocking me?"
He caught my shift in tone, set down his book, and looked up. His smile was soft and coaxing. "Not at all. I simply worry you'll be bored."
I flopped back with a sigh. "I've been bored for thousands of years. One more day won't kill me."
Song Jue held my gaze. "Sister — haven't you ever thought about leaving?"
I didn't tell him: I couldn't leave. I toyed with the cord at my waist, voice lazy. "For the first hundred years or so, I used to throw myself against the palace gates every day and night — rattled everything loose inside me — and still couldn't get out."
For the first time, Song Jue pulled me in himself. His arms came around me and I caught the cool, clean scent of him. "Then stay by my side, Sister. Always."
I reached up and wrapped my arms around his waist. "No — you stay by mine."
His quiet laugh fell warm on the top of my head. "All right."
* * *
Song Jue was a man of jade — brilliant and courteous, never letting his cleverness show too sharply. He had no maternal clan to lean on, yet over the years he had earned his emperor father's quiet regard.
Which made it all the more senseless that Song Xun — that thick-skulled idiot — kept picking fights with him.
I returned from one of my palace treasure-hunts to find Song Jue pinned down by Song Xun's men, being forced to his knees. The armload of trinkets I'd gathered scattered across the floor. I swept the whole lot aside with a wave of cultivated fury, and turned Song Xun — over and over — headfirst into the nearest wall.
They were screaming. Ghost — !
Ghosts didn't usually walk in daylight. But a spirit of my level had nothing to fear from the sun.
Song Jue stepped forward and took my hand. "That's enough, Sister. Let him go."
I shot him a look, then let Song Xun drop. The pack of them fled immediately.
I spun on my heel and stalked inside, still seething. Song Jue followed close, caught my arm. "Don't be angry."
"Why do you let people walk all over you?" I turned on him. "What would happen if I weren't here?"
He blinked — and then his expression warmed, smooth and unhurried. "But Sister will always be here, won't she?"
I clicked my tongue. He could only count on me.
* * *
I clearly couldn't leave someone this helpless to fend for himself. I pressed a silver sword into Song Jue's hands. "From now on — every morning, you train with me. Understood?"
He accepted the sword with a smile and a nod.
Song Jue already had some physical conditioning; he wasn't starting from nothing. I dragged him out before dawn every day without fail.
And naturally — because he was gifted — he learned quickly. Both sword and brush came to him with ease.
I watched him move through his forms beneath the trees and felt a genuine satisfaction rise in my chest.
He sheathed his blade and walked toward me. The morning light caught his face: lean posture, features carved and fine. Something in my chest lurched — oddly, unexpectedly.
"What does Sister think?" He stopped close to me, smiling.
"Very good," I said, tilting my face just slightly away. "You're almost ready to go off on your own."
His quiet, clear laugh was the only reply I got.