3: Princes
His friends, the boys he played at ball and war games with when he was younger, tease him about her. About how she lets him, so to speak, play in-and-out with her over on the hillside, like any other village girl would. They wonder, often and out loud, why in Heaven's name he hasn't grown bored of her yet. He simply shrugs and waves them away, reminding them to no avail that it's nothing like that. And they laugh, as if they haven't heard him, about what an odd match they make.
He wonders if that's what they look like - an odd match, even as friends. She's certainly odd herself, with her preference for silence and solitude even at the usually bright and brazen age of fourteen. But he likes that about her. She's not the type to be taken advantage of or pursued, as his friends insinuate, and certainly nothing like the village girls who flutter their eyelashes and giggle behind their hands when he passes by, and dream of a handsome warrior - perhaps even a prince? - on a white horse who'll come to whisk them away and make them Empress of the world. He tells her as much, on one of their afternoon trysts under the peach tree.
She smiles, one of her rare smiles, and leans a pale cheek against her hand. "They're troublesome creatures, princes."
"Oh?"
"Mm-hmm. Even in fairy tales."
"How so?"
"Ponder upon it," she says matter-of-factly. "Who wants to be whisked away from home by a stranger, even if he makes her the Empress of the world or what-have-you? Yes, he'll give you everything you desire and treat you like you're made of spun glass, but what then? What if all the storybook romance is gone? With a home, you're secure. Ordinary, but secure, among people you know, like you should be." She sighs. "Princesses are silly like that."
"Did it ever occur to you, Xiang, that maybe they didn't want to be secure?" he inquires gently. "That maybe they wanted to be alive, perhaps?"
She shrugs, withdrawing into silence again as she will after expressing an opinion.
"The land is changing," he continues. "War is spreading. My father left to fight the other day, and so will I, when I'm strong enough." He leans against the trunk of the tree, hands behind his head. "I want to make a name for myself. You know, give my own little share in bringing back the peace that everyone misses so much. But that means I'll have to leave home, Xiang, and I won't be so secure anymore."
Silence.
"I won't have any peach tree to sit under when I'm not out fighting, or someone to talk about strange things with like I do with you. I'll have comrades, I should think, but I don't know about friends."
"You're very brave, Zilong," she says at last, and smiles again. He thinks he can hear sorrow behind it, but he isn't sure.