Li Ji got up before the first morning light and started her daily tasks—buying Kiyomi's favourite fishes at the market, fetching fresh water from the well, sweeping the courtyard, washing and mending Jian and Kiyomi's clothes, cooking rice porridge for breakfast. Her daily tasks were not as numerous than those at the palace but they still required a lot of energy. Still exhausted from last night's events, she decided to take a rest.
Despondently, she looked out the window. She saw a magpie chattering on the edge of a branch. It was a good omen and hoped that this bird of joy would build a nest near their house for it is said to bring good luck.
Slowly sipping a cup of lotus tea, her gaze went to the unfamiliar and boundless horizon. The first orange rays of the day were peeking over the tiled rooftops. And the timid sun lingered on the horizon, as if waiting for the clouds to escort him to the blue sky. But those brilliant white puffy clouds, like the rippling ruffles of a western wedding dress, kept on swirling, swirling, swirling...
Kiyomi began to turn to and fro in his bed, his lips opening and closing. Emika moved closer and listened with rapt attention, taking in every syllable that he spoke. However she couldn't make out any of the words.
Between wakefulness and sleep, part of his spirit stuck within his dream, he had distinctly seen the faceless woman's features. When Kiyomi opened his eyes her clear image was still imprinted in his mind!
He turned his head and met two round emerald-green eyes filled with an odd emotion. This calico cat made him feel incredibly sad, but he wasn't sure why.
No time to dilly-dally. He had to draw her face before she dissipated like a cloud of smoke. He got up, and left the bedroom in a hurry, followed closely by Emika.
Li Ji was roused from her reverie by the sound of Kiyomi's deep voice echoing in the room. She was standing by his desk, fondly twirling between her fingers a jade ring engraved with the royal insignia and used as a pendant on a leather string.
And as the Prince leaned forward to pull out the chair, he got a lot closer to her than he usually would. She felt his warm breath tickling her ear when he asked her to grind some inkstick. And his loose silky hair slipped on her bare wrist as he sat down. She swiftly slipped the jade ring the Prince had given her years ago under the lapel of her robe before he could see it.
His natural casualness left no room for misinterpretation. This kind of closeness she wanted to last forever was unreachable. I might as well be living on the moon, she thought. In fact, no matter how deep was the trust and understanding between them, the Second Prince considered her first and foremost a loyal subject rather than a woman.
Adjusting their life to blend in this new world, they had to forego the conventional rules of palace etiquette, hence making their interactions more intimate. But even so, they were still separated by the invisible wall of his noble birth.
She immediately bowed her head in a sign of assent, stood opposite him on the other side of the desk, and started grinding the inkstick with a little water.
"I have made rice porridge. Would you like some?" she asked with a soft smile.
He barely raised his eyes from his desk and gave a slight shake of the head instead of speaking. The desk was spread with old drawings of women's faces, blank pages and many brushes. She glanced at him as he dipped his brush in ink. Poised, his brushstrokes were confident on the rice paper.
Any traces of his illness from last night could not be seen on his calm and dignified face. However, he had disheveled hair—long black hair spilling over his shoulders. He wore an open cross-collar shirt loosely fastened at the waist and matching wide leg trousers. Over his night garment he was wearing a black open-robe tasseled at the hem. Oddly enough, his slovenly appearance didn't affect his elegant demeanour and graceful posture.
"Would you like to freshen up and change your clothes? Also I bought a new hair comb made of sakaki wood..." His cross-collar shirt was gaping open and her view had been filled with bare skin, "... resembling the one your mother gave you." The last words lingered on her lips like a whisper.
Her eyes could not help but stare at his collarbones, his neck and down at his chest. She saw him tightened the sash around his waist, and she worried he had noticed her stare. But as he closed up his shirt, Li Ji was relieved that he seemed unaware and unconcerned.
The prince caught her look away and noticed her blushing cheeks. A fugitive smile flitted across his lips.
Then he raised his eyes sharply, his deep pupils swallowing her. "What did you just say?"
She thought maybe it had been improper of her to suggest that he needed to tidy up his appearance and was reluctant to reiterate her words for fear of upsetting him. But it was unlike him to omit his ritualistic morning routine—washing, getting dressed, arranging his hair, and having breakfast, then Neidan and Qiqong practice—before doing anything else.
He regarded her for a moment before asking again: "I was distracted, what did you just say?"
"W-would you like me to add more water in the ink?"
"No need, this is the right consistency."
Li Ji stared at the small pool of ink. An ocean of ink couldn't pen into words the place he had in her affections. Her heart circled around him but sadly never met him. She withdrew her gaze from his face and observed his older drawings.
"How come this woman doesn't have a complete face?"
He paused his brush.
"As soon as I wake up I keep forgetting what her face look like."
"How can you be sure you are dreaming of the same person?"
"Just a feeling..." He dimly answered with a sad sigh. But his following words quickly brought a trace of hope. "I am trying to piece her face together. For the first time today I am able to draw two new features, the eyes and the lips. Look at all my paintings," he spread them all across the desk, "do you not think they all have similarities?"
Would he have noticed the nervous quiver of her lips, the fleeting crease of her brows, and the slight tremor in her fingers; probing questions could have been raised and maybe secrets revealed.
She lost control of what her hand was doing, and she dropped the inkstick on the floor.
"Why is it of such importance to draw a stranger from your dream?" she asked while picking up the inkstick. "Dreams do not make sense. They are shreds of our subconscious, mixed with reality and fiction, hopes and desires, the present and the past."
But he retorted: "I have come to the conclusion that this woman is familiar to me and stem from my memories."
With another subtle shift of her eyebrows, something changed in Li Ji's expression. Unwanted emotions appeared briefly on her face—anger, apprehension and guilt—so briefly it was unnoticed.
Adding a little water to the inkstick, she said coyly:
"Sometimes my dreams are so vivid that I wonder if what I saw actually happened." She smiled awkwardly. "It feels so real, so palpable. But it is just a dream."
However, Kiyomi thought otherwise.
"This is not just any random dream. For the past few months this dream has been exactly the same one over and over. How can I dream of her every night unless I know her? Unless it is real?"
"But earlier, didn't you say that you can't remember your dreams? As soon as you wake up you forget. So how can you be absolutely sure that this dream is the same one?
"I know it does not make sense. Like Jian would say, call it a gut instinct."
"But still, what make you think it is a real person belonging to your past?"
"Every morning I feel overwhelmed and suffocated with a lot of different emotions–dread, loss, and sadness. Only a real person could cause such vivid feelings, do you not think so?"
Curled up on her cushion, Emika was listening with annoyance at Li Ji's insistent refutation, her extended claws embedded in the fabric pulling out the threads.
"I agree that all these feelings are very much real. Your Highness... Shu... Kiyomi, you have suffered tremendous hardships. Your mother died when you were only eleven, your father was murdered, your brother betrayed you, and you nearly died yourself more than once! Such tribulations are bound to haunt your dreams. They are awful memories that I wish you could forget." She slowed down the grinding of the inkstick and she dared to venture asking: "If–if there was a way to be free from pain and sorrow, would you do it?"
"I think all of us would."
"But if the only way to do it, is to erase from your memory the person who caused you pain and sorrow. Would you still do it?"
"Erase?..."
"Never to be remembered. Totally forgotten. As if this person was never born. Would you still do it?"
Kiyomi's lengthy silence was making Li Ji nervous.
"Your High–" she frantically waved her hand in the air in dismissal, "Kiyomi don't pay attention to my silly talk."
"No, it is a very interesting question. I was just thinking that my greatest pain and sorrow is the death of my mother. If the only way to stop my heart from aching meant erasing my mother from my mind, how could I even contemplate such a thought? My mother was my everything. I can still remember her warm and loving embrace, the smell of her perfume and the sound of her voice comforting me. Without hesitation I choose to keep the pain along with all the loving memories."
Emika's heart jumped with hope. Is it possible that the Mind-Seal was forced upon him? Could it be that he never intended to forget his love for me?
"What about you?" continued Kiyomi, "Is there someone you wish to erase other than me?"
He smiled awkwardly while looking into Li Ji's beautiful amber eyes. Wasn't he the cause of all her sufferings after all?
She could feel his gaze searching deep into her soul. The hand grinding the inkstick suddenly stopped.
"Your Highness, I know you are teasing me, but still don't say such hurtful words."
His index finger scratched along his brow, the while his apologetic eyes lowered back to his sketch.
Li Ji gravely insisted: "But, if that person had caused you unforgiving pain by intentionally harming you or trying to kill you, wouldn't you erase your memories? I know I would most certainly."
Kiyomi dipped his brush in ink, and painstakingly tried to figure out how the next stroke on the rice-paper should define the features of the woman's face now fading in his mind.
"I think the woman in my dreams is someone I knew from my childhood, at the very early stage of my childhood. This would explain why I do not remember her." Then he slowly looked up at Li Ji, "So are you trying to hint that, perhaps I have erased her from my mind as a way to forget some hurtful memories?"
Li Ji nodded, "Perhaps–" and in pursuance of this plausible speculation she would indulge him, "perhaps she is one of the Empress' palace attendants or maid-servants?"
Sending Kiyomi on a wild goose chase was the best course of action for his future. Remembering the true identity of this woman would only crush him.
"Although you were a very young boy at the time, I am sure you are aware that your mother suffered a lot of abuse in the hands of Empress Yū Miko."
The corners of his mouth twitched.
Empress Yū Miko.
He looked outside the window. Unlike his thoughts, the sky was clear.
Empress Yū Miko.
Kiyomi felt a beast roaring inside his body and he broke his brush in two.