Page 102 of Immortal

His gaze went to the rip in my sleeve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Oh, I think you did.” I’d jabbed him in his shoulder, knowing I’d bruised him there earlier. “But I would have done the same if I could,” I added grudgingly.

He’d looked down then as he shoved a handful of jasmine at me. The fragrance was my favorite . . . had he noticed? I’d stared at them blankly, unsure of myself. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

“I read in the books . . . I thought you might like them.”

I had snorted then, not cruelly, but because the idea of him wanting to please me was absurd. As a deep flush crept up his neck, the wall around my heart cracked. I moved from the doorway. “Come in.”

He hesitated, touching the wound on my arm gently. His energy surged into my body—unfamiliar, yet potent and warm. The pain eased, the wound closing. “I’ve finally found something you’re not good at,” he said with a smile. “If you ever need healing, come to me.”

“What is your weakness?” I demanded, annoyed at his sharp assessment.

He looked at me directly. “I thought it was obvious.”

Silence had fallen then. It felt like something new had sprung between us, precious and rare. “Do you play weiqi?” I shifted the conversation to safer ground.

The way his smile had widened—I’d almost regretted my invitation, even as part of me was eager for a good opponent. None of the other students wanted to play with me after I’d won all the matches. Our game was the first of many—infuriating, demanding matches, where the days melded into nights, when I almost forgot who my opponent was. Respect tangled with frustration, resentment at his skill even as I admired his game. He played like he fought, unyielding and ruthless, his brilliance shining through each move. A victory against him meant something because it was hard-won. Perhaps it was inevitable that after spending all that time together, we had become friends. And then so much more.

I wanted to laugh now, recalling how badly I’d played against him in his library—before I’d known who I was. My pride was still bruised as I nodded toward the weiqi board in the corner. “Do you want a rematch?”

He caught my meaning at once. “This time we’ll need higher stakes, so you don’t surrender as easily.”

“I didn’t surrender,” I said through gritted teeth. “I was distracted—”

“By me?” His mouth curved in bold assurance.

“With trying to figure out why you were interrogating me then,” I retorted.

“I wanted to find out how much you hated me,” he admitted. “And how I could change your mind.”

“I don’t think I ever truly hated you,” I said slowly, my mind too rational to blame him wholly for things beyond his control—though I’d certainly disliked him, resented him, and even feared him too.

I paused, then added, “Maybe after you stabbed me I hated you a little.”

“I deserved it,” he said. “But we were trying to restore you, not hurt you. We’d already procured the Elixir of Immortality and believed it was safe.” His expression grew thunderous. “We were wrong.”

Even now, the echo of his betrayal still stung. No matter the farce, the emotions had been real. “I wish you could have told me the truth from the start.”

He tilted my face to his. “The Divine Pearl Lotus complicated matters. I could not reveal anything about your immortal life before you gave it to me, because it could have triggered the start of your transformation. You had to surrender the lotus of your own will as a mortal—to love me again, though you’d forgotten me.”

“But you failed then,” I said, needling him, selfishly wanting to hold on to these precious moments of discovery.

He sighed. “And you said I had the heart of ice.”

I colored at the memory, of all the terrible things I’d thought and said of him. “You were too impatient, too sure of yourself,” I teased mercilessly. “But I yielded in the end.”

A moment’s hesitation and it might have been too late. Zhangwei, dead. While I would be lost to my own past, never knowing the life I had left in the skies. I shuddered at the possibility.

He lowered his head to mine. “We didn’t foresee the Wuxin’s schemes. If they’d succeeded in spiriting you away, we would have failed you.”

“No, Zhangwei. You saved me, we saved each other. For all the things that went wrong, as many went right.”

As my hand tightened around his, he said, “It should have been me who went to the Mortal Realm.”

I struggled to remember, the memories still blurred. “What do you mean?”

“The Divine Pearl Lotus could only cure one immortal. I wanted you to have it, but you refused—you never gave up on us, researching relentlessly. It was you who learned that a mortal and an immortal could share the lotus. While neither would be entirely restored, while we would each give up a little of our strength—this way we both would live. We agreed that I would descend to the world below.”