For three years, he'd played the role of a hardened prisoner, breaking stones in the prison quarry. The old ma…
For three years, he'd played the role of a hardened prisoner, breaking stones in the prison quarry.
The old man sharing his captivity watched him with amused eyes. "Never had someone who mattered to you? Someone who made you wish time would slow down?"
His shovel hesitated mid-strike. A fleeting image surfaced—a woman with blindfolded eyes. Just for an instant.
"No," he answered. "Not with unfinished business at hand."
"Time's up then," the old man said. "You're free to go. Must be eager to attend to your grand affairs."
A grunt of acknowledgment. No time for goodbyes. He mounted his horse without looking back.
Three wasted years. His plans couldn't wait any longer.
But first, one last task.
With practiced motions, he cleaned his blade, wiped the still-warm eyes, and placed them carefully in the ice-cold jade box against his chest.
He remembered their first meeting at the lake's bottom three years prior.
As he explained his request, she listened quietly. Though blindfolded, her gaze seemed to pierce straight through him.
A single, jarring heartbeat.
For a moment, he'd forgotten to listen for her reply. Not that it mattered. Her answer was always the same.
Long have I heard of the Moon Goddess. Will you help me save someone?
Yes.
To save this person... I may have to kill many others. Good people.
Yes.
The Moon Goddess is indeed as rumored... What repayment would you ask? A pair of eyes?
Yes.
Their bargain was struck: she'd guard his charge; he'd procure her new eyes.
A pity he was three years late. He hoped she wouldn't resent it.
When he finally reached Moon Lake, its waters remained impossibly clear. He suddenly smoothed his wind-tangled hair.
Too rough. Too wind-worn.
He was late. Or perhaps late was an understatement.
Three years.
Three years ago, he waited three days for her. But she, at the bottom of the lake, had waited for him until now.
How could such a debt ever be repaid?
Yet he had promised. He would see it through. Even if, even if...His hand trembled slightly as he wrote:
I will give you new eyes.
He signed it Li Zhenzhen, lips forming the name soundlessly.
I will give you new eyes.
Departing the depths, he cast one final glance backward.
A pity, never seeing her restored sight. A pity, never seeing his reflection in her eyes.
A pity that if only...But no. If only changed nothing.