A hand touched my shoulder just as I was about to release the spell, making me cancel it.
"Nán Nán! Calm down! We were just training. See? Brother is not hurt—I can even pick you up," he said, his voice low but steady. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Then he lifted me up and patted my head.
"But brother is bleeding. How can you say you're not hurt?" I said, tears welling in my eyes as I pointed to his bleeding shoulder.
"Don't cry. You're making big brother sad. I promise, I'm not in pain," he said, gently wiping the tears from my face.
I placed my hand on his wounded shoulder. The bleeding stopped as the wound vanished.
"Nán Nán! How did you do that?" he asked, amazed.
"Oh no! She's the direct descendant of the Crimson. She is the calamity the prophecy mentioned," they said simultaneously, exchanging shocked looks.
Both rushed toward me and Lǐ Xùyáng, pulling me away from his hands.
"Nán Nán, are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere? Can you tell daddy how you learned that?" he asked, holding my hands tightly and looking into my eyes.
"The Crimson teaches me whenever I'm sleeping. But she said I must go to the Mountain of Mófǎ zhī dì to finish my training, which will take ten years," I said, swinging his hands playfully to seem innocent, hiding the truth.
"When did she say you must leave?" he asked, worry clouding his eyes.
"She said by the end of this week. Don't worry, Father, I'll be fine on my own. Mother taught me how to cook, and the Crimson will protect me. This month is the Month of Lán Sè—the weather isn't extreme, so don't worry too much," I said, cupping his face gently.
He lifted me up and went to find Lǐ Míngfēi so we could prepare for my departure.
The Annual Cycle
All the months are named after the dragons:
January – Month of Bái Sè
February – Month of Lán Sè
March – Month of Zǐ Sè
April – Month of Lǜ Sè
May – Month of Hóng Sè
June – Month of Zōng Sè
July – Month of Qīng Sè
August – Month of Yáng Hóng
September – Month of Zǐ Luó Lán
October – Month of Yín Sè
November – Month of Jīn Huī
December – Month of Fēi Hóng
At the end of the week, we climbed into the carriage and headed to the base of the Mountain of Mófǎ zhī dì. When we arrived, not a single house was in sight.
My parents panicked, fearing I'd be left to live wild with no shelter.
"Mom, Dad, and big brother, please stay close to the carriage so you won't get hurt," I said, walking toward the open clearing.
I then created an illusion to distract the coachman and maid who had accompanied us, and began an incantation.
"Form!" I commanded, pointing two fingers where I wanted the house to appear.
The forest trembled with breathless stillness, as if nature itself was holding its breath. A shimmer of golden light sparked in the heart of the trees—soft at first, like sunlight glinting on dew. Then it pulsed, rippling through the air like a heartbeat.
Leaves rustled upward, drawn by an unseen force, while the moss-covered earth glowed with ancient runes. From the soil, stone and crystal rose—elegant columns twisting like vines, archways blooming with intricate carvings as if sculpted by time itself.
Walls formed not brick by brick, but in sweeping waves of light and energy. Glass windows stretched open like butterfly wings, catching the moonlight and reflecting it in a thousand hues. Domes crowned themselves in silver, spires twirled skyward like enchanted tree branches, and ivy wrapped lovingly around polished marble.
At the center stood a grand staircase, curling upward into the highest tower where a soft glow pulsed—like a heartbeat, like a soul.
And just like that, in the space between heartbeats, the palace stood—majestic, otherworldly, silent. A dream made real by magic