trembling fi ngers trailing from his slack arm to his barely rising-and-falling chest. Ai Ling did not know what she searched for, allowing instinct to guide her. She stopped as her palm hovered over his heart. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, tangled black hair fanning across her face. She waited.
There was nothing at first. Just the sunlight behind her eyelids and the feel of the man’s silk tunic beneath her fingers. She cast her spirit toward his, a weak, wobbling cord.
It dissipated without reaching its target. She drew a deep breath and tried again. Her navel tightened as her spirit entered Fei Ming’s.
She delved into his body, and his pain slammed her. Struggling to breathe. Struggling to live. A part of him wanted to give up; give in to the darkness. Ai Ling unfurled her mind to him. She searched for his being.
It cowered, as if shoved into a corner. Fei Ming was aware 69
Cindy Pon
he had been possessed. He had watched everything, a prisoner in his own mind and body. His spirit was traumatized, damaged, and afraid. Yet he still fought for each breath that seared his lungs. His heart fluttered, tapping out a faint and erratic beat.
Ai Ling willed her own spirit over his wounds, glided across broken ribs, the cracked collarbone, and the punctured lung.
She knew nothing. She’d never studied anatomy or medi-cine, but she went where she felt his pain. She wrapped his injuries within her healing essence, coated and covered them until she felt his heart beating with a strong, regular rhythm.
Until he took a deep breath without wincing, even as he lay unconscious, crouched inside his own mind.
Suddenly Ai Ling was aware of hurried footsteps. The sound came to her as if through a deep tunnel. She withdrew from Fei Ming’s body, snapped into herself, and turned her head sluggishly. Master Tan approached like thunder, followed by Chen Yong and two manservants. He ran to his injured son and kneeled down beside him. Fei Ming remained unconscious but stirred and groaned.
Chen Yong dropped by her side, his dark brows drawn together. “Ai Ling, are you all right?”
“What happened here?” Master Tan demanded.
Ai Ling clutched at her torn clothing, feeling weak, depleted. Chen Yong cradled her elbow, as if afraid she would fall over otherwise.
What was there to say, except the truth?
70
S I LV E R P H O E N I X
“He laced my tea with poison. I woke and found myself here.”
Her voice, unfamiliar to her own ears, croaked with thirst.
“What?” Master Tan shook with fury. “Beware of your accusations, Ai Ling. I know my son.”
“He—he was possessed,” she whispered.
Master Tan’s expression hardened, the color draining from his face. He pounded closed fists together and spat at the ground before her.
“Witch! Sorceress! How dare you come into my home and bring such evil on us?”
“There must be a misunderstanding,” Chen Yong said.
“We should send for the physician. Fei Ming can tell us what happened when he recovers.” There was a strain in his steady voice she hadn’t heard before. What did he think?
Who would he believe?
Ai Ling lowered her head. It was her fault that Fei Ming was in this condition. Was it her fault as well that he had been possessed?
Master Tan gingerly touched his son’s cheek. “Quickly!
Bring the litter and fetch Physician Shen. Go!”
The two manservants rushed off without a word, panic on their faces.
“Leave, before I fetch the magistrate.” Master Tan waved one arm at her and Chen Yong, his wrath unable to hide the tears of concern for his son. “I don’t ever want to see your faces again. Go!”
Ai Ling met Chen Yong’s eyes for the first time. They were 71
Cindy Pon
unreadable, his face taut and without expression. “I’ll get our things,” he said quietly, and he turned to go.
Ai Ling scrambled to her feet to follow. Her chest ached until it felt numb—like the rest of her.
Chen Yong walked with long strides, his posture
There was nothing at first. Just the sunlight behind her eyelids and the feel of the man’s silk tunic beneath her fingers. She cast her spirit toward his, a weak, wobbling cord.
It dissipated without reaching its target. She drew a deep breath and tried again. Her navel tightened as her spirit entered Fei Ming’s.
She delved into his body, and his pain slammed her. Struggling to breathe. Struggling to live. A part of him wanted to give up; give in to the darkness. Ai Ling unfurled her mind to him. She searched for his being.
It cowered, as if shoved into a corner. Fei Ming was aware 69
Cindy Pon
he had been possessed. He had watched everything, a prisoner in his own mind and body. His spirit was traumatized, damaged, and afraid. Yet he still fought for each breath that seared his lungs. His heart fluttered, tapping out a faint and erratic beat.
Ai Ling willed her own spirit over his wounds, glided across broken ribs, the cracked collarbone, and the punctured lung.
She knew nothing. She’d never studied anatomy or medi-cine, but she went where she felt his pain. She wrapped his injuries within her healing essence, coated and covered them until she felt his heart beating with a strong, regular rhythm.
Until he took a deep breath without wincing, even as he lay unconscious, crouched inside his own mind.
Suddenly Ai Ling was aware of hurried footsteps. The sound came to her as if through a deep tunnel. She withdrew from Fei Ming’s body, snapped into herself, and turned her head sluggishly. Master Tan approached like thunder, followed by Chen Yong and two manservants. He ran to his injured son and kneeled down beside him. Fei Ming remained unconscious but stirred and groaned.
Chen Yong dropped by her side, his dark brows drawn together. “Ai Ling, are you all right?”
“What happened here?” Master Tan demanded.
Ai Ling clutched at her torn clothing, feeling weak, depleted. Chen Yong cradled her elbow, as if afraid she would fall over otherwise.
What was there to say, except the truth?
70
S I LV E R P H O E N I X
“He laced my tea with poison. I woke and found myself here.”
Her voice, unfamiliar to her own ears, croaked with thirst.
“What?” Master Tan shook with fury. “Beware of your accusations, Ai Ling. I know my son.”
“He—he was possessed,” she whispered.
Master Tan’s expression hardened, the color draining from his face. He pounded closed fists together and spat at the ground before her.
“Witch! Sorceress! How dare you come into my home and bring such evil on us?”
“There must be a misunderstanding,” Chen Yong said.
“We should send for the physician. Fei Ming can tell us what happened when he recovers.” There was a strain in his steady voice she hadn’t heard before. What did he think?
Who would he believe?
Ai Ling lowered her head. It was her fault that Fei Ming was in this condition. Was it her fault as well that he had been possessed?
Master Tan gingerly touched his son’s cheek. “Quickly!
Bring the litter and fetch Physician Shen. Go!”
The two manservants rushed off without a word, panic on their faces.
“Leave, before I fetch the magistrate.” Master Tan waved one arm at her and Chen Yong, his wrath unable to hide the tears of concern for his son. “I don’t ever want to see your faces again. Go!”
Ai Ling met Chen Yong’s eyes for the first time. They were 71
Cindy Pon
unreadable, his face taut and without expression. “I’ll get our things,” he said quietly, and he turned to go.
Ai Ling scrambled to her feet to follow. Her chest ached until it felt numb—like the rest of her.
Chen Yong walked with long strides, his posture
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