Diyiren called Nianzang into his room. The two strips of hair that refused to be tame, hung at the sides of his face.
"Sit," he said, directing him to the gold-toned bed.
Nianzang's eyes roved over the room, the same desk, water feature and nightstand.
"What is this?"
"I'm going to tell you about my one hundredth birthday."
Nianzang resembled a rooster, his crest up, stalking around the coop, distrustful of everything around him.
Diyiren put his hand out again. The room smelled of a sweet fragrance, vanilla and a hint of berry. Without prompting, Diyiren said, "It was your mother's favorite scent. It reminds me of her."
More than once, Nianzang had picked up on the scent. He'd never guessed that his father burned it for that specific reason.
Diyiren assumed the meditation position and Nianzang took up the spot next to him.
"For twenty-five years, I'd been told that my hundredth birthday would be the happiest day of my life. It was supposed to be the day of my wedding before Bronagh kidnapped your mother. I thought the first eight years of my life had been sad and lonely, but losing your mother and Yuemu, it was worse. Niang had less patience with me. I distrusted BoBo more and more every day.
"The morning of my hundredth birthday, I locked myself in my room and I cried. I bit into a pillow to muffle the sounds, because my mother had no more patience for it than she ever had and I couldn't pretend to be cold-hearted that day."
YOU ARE READING
The Lamb and the Gray Battle
FantasyEvie has spent the last 575 years on the North American continent, now called America, the Pure and Clean. She smiles, volunteers and makes cakes and pastries for her neighbors, hiding away her demon blood. She wants nothing to do with her estranged...