Choices

23 - Confrontation

A/N: "Four things come not back: the spoken word, the spent arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity." – Chinese Proverb

One scene, two viewpoints.

Warning: Angst.

(It's been too long, I know. My apologies, as well as the sincerest hope that you, dear readers, will see this story through with me to the end.)

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It was only when Fengjiu was already nearing Jiuchongtian -- riding atop a hastily-conjured cloud -- that she remembered what day it was.

The fifth day of the fifth month, when newly ascended immortals receive their titles in Qing Yun Hall. One of the rare times when Donghua Dijun ascends the Nine Heavens, to give the new immortals their assignments and then check the recordings in the Lianxin Mirror.

From what she deduced from that earth-shaking conversation with Xie Guchou, today will be the last ascension ceremony, before the Jade Lotus Pond is forever closed.

As she descended before Jiuchongtian's gates, and witnessed the reverent way by which the guards greeted and let her pass, any hope Fengjiu had that everything she learned recently was just some cruel joke fell into a heap at her feet and died. The realization made her dash to the 36th level of Heaven, arriving just in time to see the doors of Qing Yun Hall open as the ceremony within came to an end.

Without second thought, unmindful for once of all her inhibitions and self-doubts, she stepped into Qing Yun Hall with her head held high, determined to see him eye to eye, and demand an explanation for his actions -- consequences be damned.

Qing Yun Hall, surrounded by cerulean clouds, was a sight to behold with its tourmaline beams and amethyst, soundproof walls. And there, sitting on the golden throne was Donghua, as she had never seen him before.

Tall and majestic, clad in purple robes that was several shades lighter than the violet frocks he had taken to wear in the demon realm, his usually loose silver hair gathered to a neat half-bun at the back of his head and secured by a jade hairpin. Zhonglin stood beside him on the dais, and an immortal was in the middle of standing from where he knelt on the floor at Donghua's feet.

Fengjiu had only ever known Donghua Dijun as the retired emperor, former master of heaven and earth, living in relative seclusion in his chosen domain at the Southern realms. But she had never seen him like this, the pinnacle of purity and magnificence, every inch the most revered god that once stood on top of the world, with the power to decide who lives and dies and on whose hands rested the fate of the eight realms and everything and everyone in it.

How could she have even harbored the hope to move this deity's heart? It struck her, now, how way beyond his repute was to her reach, how insignificant she was compared to his greatness, and how utterly forgettable she must be in his eyes.

(Yet he chose her as his successor. There should be a convincing explanation for his decision, or else Fengjiu might misunderstand, and harbor false hopes that will serve nothing but hurt her in the end.)

Seeing him this way, there seemed only be one proper thing to say, with him sitting up there, and she standing before him like the young, inferior goddess that she was. "Bai Fengjiu of Qingqiu greets Your Majesty Donghua Dijun."

The gaze by which he fixed her with was ice cold, tinged with something that looked like pain. He gestured to Zhonglin, and Fengjiu had a vague sense of people leaving the hall, though she did not dare remove her eyes from the magnificent being that sat atop the golden throne.