Prologue

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She opened her eyes from the dark.

Mei are born from nothingness, spirits congealed from the accumulation of energies heavenly and of the earth, possessing first a soul, and then condensing a corporeal form around their dearest expectations. Perhaps a bird, perhaps a tree, but more often than not, what they hope to be is a person. A perfect person.

She was just such a spirit. She never experienced a youth or an adolescence. From the moment she opened her eyes, breaking free from her cocoon, she was already in her most sublime of fresh-faced youth. She saw her own immaculate body reflected upon the water, saw the glistening brilliance of the surface of the lake and the dew of the white mist that floated over the plain, and believed the world to be as beautiful as she.

But when she began to travel this world, she was disenchanted, for she had never thought to consider that most people looked quite ordinary, or even ugly. The farmers and their dark skin, the shopkeepers and their swaying bellies, the vagrants and their drooping faces––the world was shaped by people like these, who, for the slightest bit of food or money, would work until their sweat reeked and overflowed. And the earth was not always home to flower buds and sweet winds, either. Yellow dust was often seen, and so were foul mud and white bone. She began to regret having come to this world, and so thought to find herself a peaceful mountain valley to hide away in.

She had stayed in the mountains for three months before she began to regret that, too. Though there were lakes so clear you could see straight to the bottom, and white deer and yellow oriole, there was a strange feeling that nagged at her. It was a feeling she’d possessed when she’d been no more than a mercurial soul: the thirst to be able to speak to someone, and listen to that person respond. She finally understood herself to be unable to return to her solitary world, for she was a person now, and people grew lonely.

So it was that she once again came to the human world, though she hadn’t imagined herself being lonelier among a crowd of people, because she believed no one to be capable of wholeheartedly listening to her speak. What people saw was her beauty, admiring her like a painting or weighing her like an object to be bought or sold. She began to be afraid, both wanting to be incorporated into the crowd and wanting to keep away from it. She was dithering on a small lane outside the city, not knowing what she ought to do, when a man in a golden saddle astride a fine horse appeared before her.

Muyun Qin was a martial emperor in accordance with the customs of the Muyun clan, which dictated that each emperor ought be able to personally lead armies into battle. Thus, Muyun Qin was adept with bow and horse, which was why he never much worried about assassins when he returned from his inspection tours, urging his horse forward and leaving his troops in the back of his mind. As a prince, he had led the advance against rebel armies and into enemy ranks, battled with ten thousand troops––a few assassins were nothing to him.

Initially, Muyun Qin had already rushed past the girl, but he jerked his horse to a stop, unable to explain even to himself why he’d done it. When he turned to look back at her, he felt suddenly that despite having had all of heaven in his grasp, he had been nothing more than a pitiful fool.

It was this look that determined the fate of the world.