Chapter 17: Qing Ming Jie
Perched precipitously in a gnarled ancient tree, a girl peered into the gloom of the manor. The courtyard was completely empty; the house silent. A croaking sound made her turn, but Flame saw nothing but a crow, picking away at the leavings of Qing Ming Jie.
She was about to leave, when the sound of wind chimes called her back. Flame saw her Ma and Ba. Somehow, they were a lot taller than her. They greeted her smilingly, but there was something sorrowful about the glances between them.
“What's wrong?” Flame directed her query at them both. Her father ruffled her hair affectionately, but her mother smiled sadly.
“You've forgotten the family,” her mother told her.
“But I killed Li,” Flame protested. Her mother knelt down, and Flame realized that she was ten years old again.
“That was never the intention,” murmured her mother. “You were both to remember each other.”
“Elder sister forgot me first,” Flame had to explain.
“Be nice,” chided her father. Flame looked at him with puzzlement. “Share responsibility for the wrongs, even if Jiang was first.” He laughed lightly.
Flame wanted to reply, but she felt a burning sensation. That was strange. She couldn't burn― she hadn't when Li had come for her family, and she wouldn't now. But the pain pervaded. Wong, Xiang, and her sister all appeared above her.
“Is this real?” She addressed Wong. Xiang and her sister were too much for her.
“Everything is real, but at the same time, false,” Wong told her, ever the Buddhist monk. “Let go of your illusions and your past.” Everything swirled around her. Flame thought she had a fever, so dizzy and hot did she feel. Jiang now came into view. She was crying. This had to be a dream, Flame thought. Her sister never cried.
“I'm sorry, Flame. I've caused your death.”
“It wasn't you; it was Li.” Flame didn't even deign to say Xiang, but her sister seemed to know.
“Wong provided the horses, and Xiang carried you on his. He's been struck by crossbow bolts, though. A position-hungry enemy of his father paid the constables.”
Flame should have considered doing the same, but she hadn't had more than a thousand wen. Anyway, that wouldn't have satisfied her sense of being wronged. Nor did it bother her as much as Xiang's actions. Once again, a Li had borne her from impending death. Flame wondered if this was done out of amusement by the gods.
“It's not your fault, but Li's,” Flame repeated. And then everything whirled again. Her life, or afterlife, was confined to a silent, dark courtyard for what seemed like days.
“Flame meimei.” Xiang's voice jarred her. He looked guilty. As he should. He'd deceived her, and tried to kill her as his father had. Now he sat before her.
“Could you forgive my actions?”
“No,” Flame snapped. Xiang looked somewhat pained, as did her sister, who had appeared behind him. Nonetheless, he continued.
“Even if I died?”
“For all I know, you might already be dead,” responded Flame, as she had no idea anymore.
“How perceptive of you,” said Xiang, amused, even as he pressed on. “But would you?”
Flame considered it for a few moments.
“No,” she said, with a shake of her head. “You'd be dead, but still a Li. And I haven't, nor will I ever, forgive your father, Li.”
“Alright, what if I ceased to be Li?” Xiang smiled, and Flame laughed in spite of herself.
“That would take some act of Heaven. Next thing I know, you'll be asking if becoming a Lian will make me forgive you.”
“We've decided to choose a less binding name,” her sister broke in. Oh. It was a serious name change. Flame had never considered it, but even if she had, she would have dismissed the idea. It would have dishonoured the family.
“I won't forgive you, Li,” Flame said, heavily.
“Steadfast to the end,” Xiang sighed melodramatically. “Well, so long as you don't haunt me, I'll be satisfied.” You're not a Lian, Flame wanted to reply, but the pain in her foot and arm had spread to her head. Actually, her whole body hurt; her bones felt crushed. She thought she could see her sword in the corner—perhaps she could slash away the fires that burned her, but then maybe the flames would melt it. The thoughts ran quickly through her head.
Flame gave up thinking. Family Li was likely dead, her parents were dead, and possibly her sister as well. Maybe Flame was dead too. There would be no more hauntings, no more visits to the past. The thought satisfied her. All her life she had lived for her vengeance. And now she had it. The fever burned, as did the rest of her.
Lian Flame burned herself out.
Chapter 18: Epilogue
Within several months of their departure, Bianjing had fallen under the Jurchen's Jin, or Gold, dynasty. Wong had returned to the monasteries of Henan province. However, nothing was ever again heard from either Sister An or Wong. It was decided that he had convinced Sister An to desist in her dealings with Family Lian. After all, none of its members were left.
It had been some years since Flame passed away, but Jiang still thought of her often. Xiang knew, from the way she would sometimes stare thoughtfully into the hearth, or stand for hours on end, in ma bu, beneath the moon. The latter occurred with increased frequency around Qing Ming Jie, but Jiang had assured him that it lessened the pain of mourning. Today, however, no such thoughts entered either of their minds. They were both newly parents.
Their child gave a satisfied yawn, and Xiang watched contentedly. The only damper on his contentment was the challenge of naming. The two of them had debated for days, over their son's name. Xiang had advocated for a name rooted in wood, but Jiang had disliked the idea of naming their son after an element. That hadn't turned out well for herself, Jiang had pointed out, and though Xiang didn't agree with her reasoning, he had finally agreed that it was a bad idea. It seemed restrictive of character.
“I've thought of a name.” Jiang sounded decided, as she came up behind him.
“Please tell.” He clasped their hands together.
“Bao.” She looked pleased.
“Won't that make our son grow up with the belief that he's entitled, being precious like his name?” Xiang was slightly worried. Jiang smiled in response.
“Isn't all life precious?”
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