The scrape from the blade is still on her arm.
‘Is your arm all right?’
‘It does not hinder movement.’
She holds the bowl a little closer. I take it, my fingers against the warm sides, and have a sip. My throat is so dry it hurts. Only when I swallow do I realise how thirsty I am.
I pull the blanket back up from my waist. It still holds some warmth from the fire. My shoes are beside the straw, my backpack against the wall, its zip still open.
I hook a finger through the strap and drag it over. As I do, she lays a dry cloth across my knees, then turns to feed the fire. A little steam rises from the damp wood. She turns its dry side towards the flames without looking back at me.
I wipe my face, then my neck.
Morning light catches wet streaks on the cave wall. Water trickles down a crack and winds round the straw on its way outside. She’s put the straw on the higher ground.
‘Thank you.’ My voice almost disappears under the dripping. She turns and sets the water flask within reach.
‘Fortunately, there is a derelict temple nearby. I brought these things from there. I hope they will suffice. There is more water if you are still thirsty.’
I cup the bowl in my hands. My fingers aren’t so cold now.
‘I’m not a princess.’ My voice sounds as if I’ve been crying all night. Great. Even more convincing.
‘I remember.’ She sits down by the fire. ‘You have not yet told me what I should call you.’
‘Tao Xiyi. Everyone calls me Peach.’
I fold the cloth. ‘And you’re… Zuobituo?’
‘Yes.’
I say it again in my head and put the bowl down beside the straw.
‘Right. So do you know how to get to Earth? Taiwan, Taipei. Where I live.’
I fish my phone out of my backpack. In the family chat, the photo of the Tower still has that little failed-send mark beside it. I pull down and let go. No new messages.
Sixty-two per cent. I open my photos and swipe through yesterday’s Qingming outing: the sea, the mountain road, the MRT. I stop at our lane. Scooters parked crookedly in a row. Mum and Dad walking behind, Jun Hao up ahead, looking back at me.
‘My home’s here.’
I zoom in to show her the way down the lane, but my finger stops over Mum and Dad’s backs. I drag the photo a little further. Half of Jun Hao’s face squeezes onto the screen.
‘That’s my brother. Nine. Very annoying.’
She leans over and lowers her head to study the half-face.
‘What is his name?’
I look up at her. A metal chrysanthemum border surrounds a smooth face. No mouth, no nostrils, but her voice comes through from behind it. So gentle. Nicer to listen to than the woman on the radio when we’re in a taxi.
‘Jun Hao. Tao Jun Hao.’ I drag the photo sideways. ‘He’s got his own bed, but he comes and squeezes into mine every night. Takes the whole pillow too. You’d think someone that little wouldn’t need so much room.’
My finger stops when I mention the nights.
Water is still dripping at the cave entrance. I quickly zoom back out.
‘Drool… he drools in his sleep, too. On my pillow.’
‘Do you wake him?’
‘No way. Then he won’t go back to sleep.’
I pick at the edge of my phone case. When I look up again, the two circles of light behind her mask, where eyes would be, blink softly. She doesn’t hurry me. There’s a piece of firewood still in her hand.
I tuck my feet back under the blanket.
‘Well, not every night. Sometimes I shut the door before he gets there. Then he stands outside calling for me until Mum wakes up too, and somehow I’m the one who gets told off.’
She places the wood gently in the fire.
‘Why does your mother blame you?’
‘Because I keep arguing with him through the door.’
I give a little laugh and turn the phone so she can see again.
‘Look, that’s my mum at the back. She’s really good at putting outfits together. Even her bag has to match.’
I point to the one in Mum’s hand.
‘Pretty, isn’t it? She says it’s a designer bag. I can’t remember the name. Anyway, it’s not allowed on the floor.’
She looks for a little longer before raising her face.
‘I am sorry. I do not know the way to your home.’
I zoom out. Mum, Dad and Jun Hao are back in the lane. In the top corner, the number changes to sixty-one per cent.
I switch off the screen.
‘Grandfather Moon told me to find you.’
‘The Moon Primordial?’ She presses her palms together. ‘What guidance did he give you when he appeared?’
‘He said to find you first. He didn’t say what to do after that.’
‘His wisdom is profound. I do not know why he arranged for us to meet.’
I slide the phone into my backpack. My fingers catch the old book. One corner has folded over.
‘What are you going to do now, then?’
‘I must find the five Celestial Princesses. First, I will go to the imperial capital to look for the Earth Princess.’
She glances towards the entrance and moves the unburnt sticks away from her feet, out of reach of the dripping water.
‘The last time I woke, I found her in a cave as well.’
‘The Earth Princess?’
‘Yes.’
I look at the stone walls, then at her. So the princess in the book once sat in a cave like this too.
‘Do you want to find her?’
The wood stops moving in her hand.
‘I do.’
I lift my head. Above the two circles of light, there’s another, tiny one in the middle of her forehead. She faces me and waits.
I push the book further into my bag.
‘If we find her, could we ask how to get home?’
‘Perhaps a Celestial Princess’s power could find an answer. I cannot promise it.’
‘Oh…’
She puts the remaining wood away. ‘Would you be willing to come with me to the imperial capital? I could also find somewhere for you to stay.’
I look at the muddy path outside. Which way down? Who would I look for at the bottom? No idea.
I let out a breath. ‘Let’s go together for now, then.’
She nods. I finish the water, let her pack the bowl away, and crouch to find my shoes. They’re still damp inside. My toes curl back as I push them in.
The rain at the entrance has stopped. Only the leaves are dripping now.
Zuobituo puts out the fire. I shoulder my backpack and follow her out.
The smell of wet leaves meets me.
I’m watching my feet until we pass the big rock at the cave mouth and a distant gleam catches my eye. Beyond the treetops, each ridge is paler than the last, half-hidden in white mist. Five colours of light spread out above the clouds and stream into the distance. Blue-green, gold, even the edges of the mist shining.
‘Zuobituo. Look.’
She stops beside me.
I edge forward, steadying myself against a tree, and look up. There are bright clusters beyond the clouds, far apart. One has a thin trail of light hanging beneath it.
‘Are those stars too?’
‘Yes.’
Sunlight has already reached the opposite mountain, but the stars are still shining. They look so close I squint, trying to make out their edges.
Last night I was too busy running to see any of this.
A huge bird crosses the sky. Bigger than a plane, I think. Its call echoes through the valley.
The wind presses my wet cuff against my wrist. I shift a little closer to her, and my elbow brushes her arm.
She doesn’t move away.
We stand under the tree, watching the mist slowly lift from the mountainside. Behind us is the Tower. I can’t see its top; it disappears into clouds of stars. A drop lands on my nose. I wipe it off, move to her other side, and keep looking.
A dog barks at the foot of the mountain.
Then more join in. Zuobituo turns towards the sound.
‘There is a small town in that direction.’
I lean past the tree. The muddy path bends into the undergrowth. I can’t see anyone below. Leaves rustle, and scraps of voices reach us on the wind.
‘Help—’
I pull my backpack strap higher onto my shoulder.