I avoided a lengthy conversation with Hou after breakfast because I had nothing pleasant to share with him. Guan Yin explained that a setback in Diyu, specifically the demotion of her informant, would impede her efforts to trace my parents' fates.

  “Have we lost already?” I whispered.

  “No, we’ll just need to be more creative. I know of the battles occurring but can’t know for sure which ones your parents will be present at,” she said.

  “Shouldn’t we wait until we know for certain where they will be before sending Jiang Li down there?” Hou asked.

  Guan Yin sighed. “We could wait until we know for sure but...”

  “No,” I said, not looking at Hou. “We should go.” It was rash, and in retrospect I admit that Hou had been right. But I was restless and wanting to do something other than biding eternity in a heaven in which I didn’t belong.

  Guan Yin frowned but gave a small nod. “As you wish.”

  The outcome was days spent fighting random eighth-century battles across the globe. A new battle for each day with no signs of Niu Qiang or Zhilan

  I saw the powerful Amazigh Queen Dihya defeated by the Umayyad army during the Battle of Tabarka in Numidia. Here was a dark-skinned woman who fought to unite the tribes of the land. She was bold and fearless in a way that reminded me of my shifu. But she fell, and her army with her. I felt her defeat in my soul. We returned to the palace where I resumed my afternoon studies and spent the evening in Lung Nue’s rooms talking of all I’d witnessed.

  I wonder even now why Queen Dihya’s name is not better known? And why did Justinian I get all the attention about those Nika riots, with little mention of his wife, Theodora, who stopped him from running away? Even with my esteemed tutor, why did I not learn of the fierce women in history who fought in wars and senate halls? When I asked Guan Yin about this, she said insecure men never wrote about strong women.

  My conversations with Hou were minimal. He tried to engage me, to make me laugh, even tried to anger me by throwing oranges at me. But I had few words for him and did not want to give him what I had.

  At the Battle of Aksu in the Xinjiang region of western China, we fought as Tang soldiers alongside the Karluk horsemen against the invading Umayyad Arabs and their Turgesh allies. With each battle my frustration grew, there was no sign of Zhilan or Niu Qiang, no scent of flowers, only death. Hou Zi took me back to Guan Yin’s gardens after three days of fighting on earth and left without a word.

  I saw Trac and Nhi again at the lake, even though I was tired. I spent an hour treading water this time, dressed in leather over silk. Trac thought I should rest, but I was insistent on continuing, claiming to be fine.

  The afternoon was dedicated to my studies, concluding with solitary walks in the gardens. Not having seen Muzha since his kiss, I wondered if he'd given up looking for me.

  I'm still puzzled by the happenings at the Battle of the Boarn, fought between the Franks and Frisians. I never figured out which side I was on. Their skin was pale, hair light, and eyes the color of lakes and forests. I had studied their language, yet their guttural speech was incomprehensible, despite Hou's claim that it was simpler than the languages I already knew. Still, as the boats sank in the Boarn river, I caught no scent of blossoms.

  The days spread like this for a month: wake, battle, train, study, and throw myself into bed often so exhausted that I didn’t move until morning. Hou continued to be mildly attentive during our trips but stopped asking me questions and would deposit me alone on Guan Yin’s steps.

  At the Battle of Bravalla I fought as myself, dressed in leathers. I carried a shield and short sword and fought alongside fierce women and men near the bay of the Baltic Sea. It was bloody, violent, and unforgiving, resulting in my falling to a much larger foe before Hou intervened. The man froze long enough for me to rise and raise my sword. Hou wrapped me in his arms.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Enough,” he said, returning us to the gardens as I yelled at him.

  My thrashing resulted in my fist connecting with his lip as he released me. His eyes flashed red as he ground his teeth. His lips twitched in a semi-snarl before he spit on the ground at my feet. Knowing he couldn’t feel my puny hit didn’t make me feel better.

  “You’re acting like a child,” he said and walked away, abandoning his illusion. His tail flicked from side to side.

  I realized I ought to apologize, yet I just watched him walk away. A combination of wounded pride and shame kept me rooted. My knuckles were sore and broken where I had struck him. I debated going after him, but my stubborn feet refused to move. Monkey telling me I was acting childish was a true insult. Yet the truth of his words hurt the most. I swallowed the battle’s blood in my mouth before heading in the opposite direction.

  Guan Yin sat beside the first pond of purple water lilies; her eyes closed in meditation. I thought better of disturbing her and turned to leave.

  “Jiang Li, come sit with me,” she said.

  I settled beside her, uncomfortable and irritable.

  “What troubles you?” she asked

  “Nothing, my lady,” I said, though the falseness of my words stung my broken lip.

  “Why have you changed towards Sun Wukong? Are you angry with him?”

  I considered evading her question, but she saw too much, and it would only delay the inevitable answer. “I don’t know. He confuses me.”

  “What has he done?”

  “He acts like we are friends but then tells me that I am his prison. He thinks humans are stupid.” I shook my head. “Every time I think we are friends he says something cruel, and I don’t know if he’s being sincere or attempting a joke.”

  She took my bloody hand with her calloused ones, rubbing my torn knuckles until the soreness was gone. She studied my hands before she spoke. “Do you remember Sun Tzu?”

  “Do not allow your anger to destroy the kingdom of friendship you have built with the monkey king. Once ruined, you cannot rebuild it,” she said, turning her eyes to mine. “Try to remember that he was a monkey first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In cities around the world animals search for food and safety. Both animals and humans alike act differently if they have been raised with love versus raised on survival. Some bond with other wounded souls to form packs. Some come to a home with humans, and many have known a home and been rejected. But it is the ones who are alone the longest that require extra patience and kindness. They lash out because they are afraid of being loved and abandoned again. They may growl and snarl, or run away, but it is because they have been wounded beyond trust too many times before. Yet all are still worthy of love in those moments.” She picked a leaf from my hair. “Everything can be trained with food and love.”

  “Are you still speaking of animals?” I asked softly.

  “I am speaking of your Hou Zi. Try to see his actions more than his words,” she said. “His words are impulsive and rude because he is still a monkey, and he is still surviving. Yet you may be the only one here that he truly trusts. His actions reveal his feelings more than his words, which I have faith will improve over time.”

  “But what of the circlet? Am I his prison?” I asked.

  “Have you used the mantra to control it?” She asked, her smile revealing that she knew the answer. “The circlet can compel him to obey when you use the mantra, everything else he has done has been by his will.”

  I sighed, feeling worse than I had before we spoke. “So, I should apologize?”

  But Guan Yin did not answer. She closed her eyes and resumed her meditation as several sprites alighted on her shoulders and lap.

  I found Hou in the stables talking with the horses. Tianma, the large, dappled stallion tossed his head at me when I entered.

  Hou didn’t greet me, though I knew he caught my scent long before I entered.

  “May I speak with you?” I asked.

  He ran long fingers down the horse’s nose, turning his back to me and not replying. I stepped closer to him.

  “I’m sorry I struck you,” I said.

  He huffed. “You should be. Though your puny punch didn’t hurt.”

  “I am still sorry.”

  He looked at me over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow. “Do you admit you were being an idiot?”

  I smiled. “I do and I apologize.”

  He turned towards me. “Have you eaten?” I shook my head. “We could sneak into the peach orchard. A little immortality might taste good right now.”

  I laughed. “No thank you. Only the Qi Tian Da Sheng (the great sage equal to heaven) can get away with that. The emperor would send me straight to Diyu.”

  “True, you aren’t worthy of the peaches yet,” he said, walking beside me.

  “And you are?”

  “Great sage equal to heaven, it’s in my title.” His smile was back, though still a bit tempered. We walked quietly for a time when he said, “You’re the only one on heaven or earth to ever apologize to me. Don’t you think it’s beneath you?”

  “How could it be beneath me when I am just a stupid human and you are equal to heaven?” I meant it as a jest, but he nodded.

  “I wish others saw it as you do.” And I couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious.