Chapter 3

Brother Chen Zhi

After class that day, we walked out of the Myriad Scroll Hall. Instantly, our view opened up to a glorious scene of unprecedented prosperity. 

Here, red flowers bloomed along every street and alley. There were broad, intersecting avenues and rows upon rows of golden towers. 

Flocks of spirit cranes pierced through the clouds, and the Luo River stretched to meet the horizon, reflecting the setting sun. Wherever water flowed, the Suzhou people moved like immortals, soaring gracefully through the air. Gentlewomen held zithers in their arms, while noblemen, adorned with swords and elegant demeanors, danced alongside the water. 

Under the blazing sunlight, the glimmering waters shimmered, red petals scattered in profusion like mist, veiling the imperial splendor as though it were a pipa half-hidden behind its cover. 

This was Suzhou, my homeland. 

Because the moon seems so close at night, Suzhou has a rather poetic nickname: “Moonlit Capital.” The people who live here are called the Suzhou Clan, a water-bound tribe blessed by the divine. 

Like all devout races, we have our own faith, but unlike others, ours is unique. Most races worship the High Celestial God, the Heavenly Emperor, who reigns supreme among the six realms. 

But in Suzhou, only one-tenth of the population reveres the High Celestial God. 

Our highest deity is the Cangying God. 

Cangying, also called Yinzé, is the divine ruler of all waters in heaven and earth. 

According to The Chronicles of Suzhou, Volume One: Founding of Suzhou, it is written: “Yinzé, the Primordial God, founded Suzhou along the Luo River.” In other words, Suzhou’s creator was none other than the god Yinzé. 

When we describe a fresh start, we often use the phrase “Yinzé Establishes Suzhou.” This shows that water is not only the source of our lives but also the core of our spirits. 

Ever since I can remember, I’ve envied the adults who could fly freely in the sky. 

I recall that before I started my studies, I often fantasized about one day donning a radiant dress and spinning gracefully through the clouds like an alluring flower spirit. I imagined myself enchanting the most handsome young men in the city, leaving behind a legendary tale of a mesmerizing princess. 

If I were to evaluate those thoughts now, I’d sum them up with two words: slightly foolish. Yet my desire to fly hasn’t diminished in the slightest. Unfortunately, every time I declared my wish to “fly,” my elders would respond in the dullest way possible, reminding me that Suzhou folk couldn’t inherently fly. What I saw was merely the art of water ascension—a technique far too advanced for someone my age. 

Thus, I could only puff up my cheeks, perched on my parents’ arms as they flew, watching enviously as other women danced through the sky like flower spirits. 

By the time I stepped outside, a formation of Xuan Birds had already appeared high above. 

Xuan Birds, with their four wings, black-gold plumage, and peacock-like tails, were Suzhou’s pride—a prestigious mount. Atop these birds rode a company of beauties, their white gowns as light as morning dew. They were the attendants my mother had sent to fetch me. 

The lead attendant, graceful and poised, approached with a gentle stride, lifted me onto her lap, and boarded a Xuan Bird. Together, we flew toward the Purple Tides Palace. 

The Purple Tides Palace was the royal palace of Suzhou, where my father governed alongside his ministers. From where I stood, it appeared as a distant speck at the summit of a mist-shrouded mountain. 

And herein lay the injustice of it all. 

My father, the king, had no sons and three daughters, of which I was the youngest. Both of my elder sisters were tutored directly in the Purple Tides Palace under one-on-one instruction from royal tutors, whereas I had been exiled to the Myriad Scroll Hall, thousands of leagues away. Though it was said that the education there was more rigorous and prestigious—having been attended by the sons of previous kings—I was, to my knowledge, the first princess to be sent there. 

In my father’s words: “If I didn’t send her there, she’d grow up to wreak havoc on the Moonlit Capital.” 

Such mistrust—how utterly heartbreaking. 

The Purple Tides Palace stood atop Suzhou’s highest peak. Its base consisted of jagged cliffs suspended in mid-air—so sheer that ordinary water sources couldn’t possibly reach such heights. Yet the Luo River defied gravity, surging upward to encircle the palace. 

However, the mountain’s peak wasn’t crowned by a palace but by a massive altar, even larger than the royal halls. 

Atop the altar stood a statue visible from every corner of the city, commanding reverence from all who gazed upon it. The figure was that of a kind-faced elder with a towering frame, his long robes flowing like clouds. His very presence exuded a quiet, commanding authority. This was our god, Yinzé. My father made offerings to him every month. 

Upon returning to the Crescent Moon Hall within the Purple Tides Palace, I was surprised to find both my father and mother present. My father had removed his crown but still wore the king’s gold-trimmed black robe. His long, moon-white hair cascaded over his chest as he sat solemnly on the throne. My mother, adorned in Suzhou’s finest silks, was dazzlingly beautiful, radiant beyond compare. 

When I entered, my father said, “Wei’er, today you’ve gained an elder brother.” 

“What? A brother? When did you have a son?” My brain turned to mush as soon as I said it. 

“He is not born of your mother or me, but you must treat him as your own brother,” my mother said with a gentle smile as she led a boy out from behind the curtain. “Chen Zhi, come meet your younger sister.” 

I stared at the boy for a long moment, feeling thunderstruck as if the heavens themselves had collapsed. 

“Baozi?!” I blurted, stumbling back a step. “How are you here? How have you become my brother?!” 

“Luo Wei!” my father barked. “Such unbecoming behavior! Coarse and impetuous—where are your manners? And that is your elder brother! Address him properly as ‘Brother.’ Stop giving him ridiculous nicknames!” 

I stuck out my tongue but continued to gape at Fu Chen Zhi in disbelief. He, however, remained perfectly calm, offering me a polite smile. “I had intended to explain to the little princess earlier, but our teacher interrupted.” 

“Since you are now siblings, adjust your titles. Call her ‘sister,’” my father said, unusually affectionate toward him. 

After much confusion, my parents explained the situation, and I finally understood what had happened. 

As expected, this was all connected to my eldest sister. 

According to Suzhou’s laws, the throne was to pass to the eldest son or daughter. In our generation, that responsibility fell to my eldest sister. However, she was a free-spirited soul who loved traveling the world, singing, and dancing, and had little talent for governance. My father, ever worried, had been searching for a suitable aide—a capable mind to support her in times of need. 

Last month, during a diplomatic visit to the Nine Provinces, my father encountered a Taoist. The Taoist revealed that he had once adopted a boy named Fu Chen Zhi, who was highly intelligent and exceptionally talented in learning. However, despite being over twenty years old, he remained in the form of a child, causing much intrigue and controversy among those around him. 

The king thought to himself that this child might not be an ordinary mortal, so he requested to meet him. 

However, after meeting him, he discovered that Fu Chen Zhi truly appeared to be just an ordinary human, unable to transform into any other form. Yet, as the Taoist had described, he was intelligent without being deceitful, composed without being arrogant—like a brilliant star in the sky, his brilliance cold yet steady, his presence dignified and pure. 

The king grew very fond of him and, without hesitation, adopted him as his foster son, bringing him back to Suzhou. In doing so, he also relieved the Taoist of a burdensome responsibility. 

Judging by how much the king adored Fu Chen Zhi, it was hard to tell if he simply favored sons over daughters or if he had grown tired of me over the years. In any case, he was overjoyed and immediately summoned my eldest and second sisters to introduce them to their new little foster brother. 

My second sister, ever obedient and gentle, arrived at the Crescent Moon Hall shortly after. She was all smiles and quickly bonded with Fu Chen Zhi, as if they had been family for years. 

But we waited and waited, and still, my eldest sister didn’t show up. 

Half an hour passed, and my father, growing impatient, sent someone to urge her to come. To his surprise, the messenger returned not with my sister but with a thin letter. The handwriting on the envelope unmistakably belonged to my eldest sister. I saw both my father’s and mother’s faces change simultaneously. 

The king quickly tore open the envelope, scanned a few lines, and then pressed his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as veins pulsed visibly on his temples. “Heng Fang has left.” 

“Left?” My mother, confused and slightly anxious, asked, “What do you mean, left?” 

“Last month, she went to Penglai and met a wandering immortal there. Ever since she returned, she’s been distracted and absent-minded. Now, she has eloped with this wandering immortal.” 

As I watched my mother’s face drain of color, turning as pale as a sheet of rice paper, I glanced left and right, then solemnly asked, “What does ‘eloped’ mean?” 

“Stay out of grown-up matters, child!” my father snapped sharply. 

“…”