Part 1
The main problem with achieving immortality, Springshadow reminded herself, is that you had to live long enough.
That is to say, the preparations for immortality required one thousand years, and one thousand years was not eternity. One thousand years merely seemed like eternity. Especially to Springshadow, who had already counted her nine-hundredth and ninety-ninth birthday almost a year before and felt every one of those birthdays now, though she told the young scholar Zou Xiaofan that she had just turned eighteen. She looked eighteen, and so he believed her. But then, Xiaofan always believed her. Springshadow found that a useful trait in a lover.
"I cannot imagine what my life would have been like without you," he said from his sickbed.
Springshadow understood the irony, but didn't bother to appreciate it. She just smiled and took his hand for a moment after she set the lacquered tray down on the table beside his bed. "Drink your tea. You need to regain your strength."
The rooms Xiaofan rented in the provincial capital were small, merely a bedroom adjoining the slightly larger space he referred to as his "studio". Over the years Springshadow had seen many more rooms that fit the designation better. Even so, like the thousand year fragment of eternity, the differences were more degree than kind. Here on the table was a lump of uncarved jade, there the skull of a badger. Xiaofan's books were arranged on shelves on the far wall, various scrolls and documents in cubbyholes in a small chest near the floor.
When Springshadow took the empty tray away, she noticed something new on the table, a small parchment containing part of a poem, a stiffening, black-tipped brush, and an inkstone in bad need of a cleaning. Springshadow leaned close and read the fragment of poetry. It was about her. The poem, incomplete though it might be, was in Springshadow's opinion a rather lovely piece of verse.
In their short time together, Springshadow had grown fond of Xiaofan in her fashion, but even that miniscule bit of concern was beside the point. The goal — the goal was all that mattered. Three more days were all she needed. No more. No less. In three more days she'd have drawn enough of Xiaofan’s living yang energy to brew the elixir that she needed to survive until her next birthday. The most important birthday: her one-thousandth birthday.
"Springshadow?"
"Yes, my love?" she answered immediately. "Do you need something?"
"You," he said. "I need you."
Springshadow closed her eyes, and for a moment her hands balled into fists.
Three days, Xiaofan. If I can wait, so can you, but of course she did not say that. She unballed her fists and composed herself. She kept her voice melodious. "You're not strong enough," she said.
That was a mistake. Springshadow knew it the moment she said it. She should have dropped hints about being "indisposed". She should have changed the subject. But no, she had told the truth. Springshadow steeled herself to deal with the consequences.
"Is there another?"
"What rubbish! Do you think so little of me?" she countered.
"You're young and beautiful. I know you have many admirers."
Springshadow sighed, put down the tray, and returned to the bedroom. Xiaofan had managed to prop himself up against the frame of the bed. Springshadow smiled down on him. "Of course I have many admirers. Yet where am I now? I am here to attend to you in your illness, that's where."
"Because you love me?" he asked.
"I certainly don't love your money," Springshadow said coyly.
That part was true enough. Xiaofan was of good family, but he was not wealthy. He had prospects, of course. He had done well in the regional examinations, and there was reason to think that, once his health had improved, he would perform at least as well in the Imperial Examinations that would determine his status in the bureaucracy that ran the nation. Once he had achieved the rank of Second Level Scholar, he was guaranteed a decent
The main problem with achieving immortality, Springshadow reminded herself, is that you had to live long enough.
That is to say, the preparations for immortality required one thousand years, and one thousand years was not eternity. One thousand years merely seemed like eternity. Especially to Springshadow, who had already counted her nine-hundredth and ninety-ninth birthday almost a year before and felt every one of those birthdays now, though she told the young scholar Zou Xiaofan that she had just turned eighteen. She looked eighteen, and so he believed her. But then, Xiaofan always believed her. Springshadow found that a useful trait in a lover.
"I cannot imagine what my life would have been like without you," he said from his sickbed.
Springshadow understood the irony, but didn't bother to appreciate it. She just smiled and took his hand for a moment after she set the lacquered tray down on the table beside his bed. "Drink your tea. You need to regain your strength."
The rooms Xiaofan rented in the provincial capital were small, merely a bedroom adjoining the slightly larger space he referred to as his "studio". Over the years Springshadow had seen many more rooms that fit the designation better. Even so, like the thousand year fragment of eternity, the differences were more degree than kind. Here on the table was a lump of uncarved jade, there the skull of a badger. Xiaofan's books were arranged on shelves on the far wall, various scrolls and documents in cubbyholes in a small chest near the floor.
When Springshadow took the empty tray away, she noticed something new on the table, a small parchment containing part of a poem, a stiffening, black-tipped brush, and an inkstone in bad need of a cleaning. Springshadow leaned close and read the fragment of poetry. It was about her. The poem, incomplete though it might be, was in Springshadow's opinion a rather lovely piece of verse.
In their short time together, Springshadow had grown fond of Xiaofan in her fashion, but even that miniscule bit of concern was beside the point. The goal — the goal was all that mattered. Three more days were all she needed. No more. No less. In three more days she'd have drawn enough of Xiaofan’s living yang energy to brew the elixir that she needed to survive until her next birthday. The most important birthday: her one-thousandth birthday.
"Springshadow?"
"Yes, my love?" she answered immediately. "Do you need something?"
"You," he said. "I need you."
Springshadow closed her eyes, and for a moment her hands balled into fists.
Three days, Xiaofan. If I can wait, so can you, but of course she did not say that. She unballed her fists and composed herself. She kept her voice melodious. "You're not strong enough," she said.
That was a mistake. Springshadow knew it the moment she said it. She should have dropped hints about being "indisposed". She should have changed the subject. But no, she had told the truth. Springshadow steeled herself to deal with the consequences.
"Is there another?"
"What rubbish! Do you think so little of me?" she countered.
"You're young and beautiful. I know you have many admirers."
Springshadow sighed, put down the tray, and returned to the bedroom. Xiaofan had managed to prop himself up against the frame of the bed. Springshadow smiled down on him. "Of course I have many admirers. Yet where am I now? I am here to attend to you in your illness, that's where."
"Because you love me?" he asked.
"I certainly don't love your money," Springshadow said coyly.
That part was true enough. Xiaofan was of good family, but he was not wealthy. He had prospects, of course. He had done well in the regional examinations, and there was reason to think that, once his health had improved, he would perform at least as well in the Imperial Examinations that would determine his status in the bureaucracy that ran the nation. Once he had achieved the rank of Second Level Scholar, he was guaranteed a decent
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