Chapter Two: Is This Yingzhou or Perhaps Penglai?

Consciousness broke free from a realm of warmth.

I thought it was an illusion after death, the soul’s last comfort before descending to the underworld. But then a fragrance unlike anything I had ever known drifted to me—crisp and sweet, as if it could seep into my bones and awaken, inch by inch, the body numbed and stiffened by the sea.

I jolted my eyes open.

The dust of Xianyang, the brine of the Eastern Sea, the roar of the storm—every image from memory was utterly overturned by the scene before me.

I was lying on a stretch of sand, fine as powdered pearl, shimmering with a soft, iridescent glow beneath the sunlight. The water beneath me was neither blue nor emerald, but changed hues like colored glass under the sun, gently lapping at the shore. There was no trace of brine in the air—only that intoxicating fragrance.

“Yi Yi!”

The thought struck like lightning, and I sprang up, my heart pounding so violently it seemed about to leap from my throat. I looked around, and the fleeting awe was immediately replaced by boundless panic.

Then I saw her.

She lay not far from me, her small body curled up like a shell washed ashore. Grains of sand clung to her hair, and her little face was drained of all color.

I scrambled to her side, hands trembling as I checked for her breath.

There—it was faint, but warm air still slipped from her nose, the truest warmth I had ever felt.

“Yi Yi, Yi Yi!” My voice was hoarse, barely audible, as I gently patted her cheek. She did not respond, her brows tightly knit, as if trapped in some painful dream.

I could not let her slip away like this. Glancing around, my gaze was drawn to a cluster of strange plants nearby. They resembled the plantain greens of my homeland, but their leaves were beaded with jade-like dew, and at their tips hung several small, crimson fruits, glowing softly, exuding an alluring sweetness.

Everything here was tinged with the uncanny, but I had no choice. I recalled Lord Xu Fu’s tales of immortal herbs—perhaps this was our salvation.

I picked a red fruit, wiped it on my sleeve, and brought it to my lips, tasting it with the tip of my tongue. A rush of indescribable sweetness and warmth spread through me, dispelling my fatigue and chills.

A treasure!

My heart settled. Without delay, I pressed the fruit to Yi Yi’s lips, gently squeezing the juice into her mouth. Some of the juice trickled down her chin, but a portion made its way inside. I dared not give her more than half, then held her tightly, using my own warmth to drive away the cold, calling her name over and over.

Time lost all meaning in this place where no sundial cast a shadow, where the sun’s movement could not be traced.

Suddenly, the small body in my arms stirred.

“…Father?”

Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it crashed in my ears like thunder from the heavens. I lowered my head, meeting her slowly opening eyes—still clouded with confusion, but the clarity had returned to them.

“Yi Yi! You’re awake! How do you feel? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” I stumbled over my words, overwhelmed, my rough hands brushing her forehead and cheeks again and again.

She blinked, as if struggling to recall. “Weren’t we… on the boat? The waves were so big…” Fear flickered in her gaze.

“It’s over now, it’s all over,” I soothed her gently. “We were swept to a place where immortals live. Look.”

I helped her sit up and take in our surroundings.

“Wow…” Yi Yi’s mouth formed a round O, her eyes brimming with disbelief. “Father, is this Mount Penglai? It’s even more beautiful than you described! Those flowers… they’re glowing!”

She pointed at a blossom not far away, peony-shaped but with petals as clear as ice, its heart aglow with soft blue light, her face alight with childlike wonder. The shadow of the storm seemed to be quickly dispelled by this enchanted land.

“Perhaps it’s Penglai, or perhaps Yingzhou, or Fangzhang. In any case, we’ve arrived.” As I watched color return to her cheeks, I was filled with gratitude for our survival. Rising, I brushed the sand from my clothes and fastened my sword at my waist—thankfully, it was still with me.

“Let’s look around for shelter, and see if anyone else is here.” I offered her my hand.

Without hesitation, Yi Yi placed her tiny hand in mine—soft and small, yet holding it, the whole world seemed within my grasp.

Together, father and daughter, tall and small, we set out along the fantastical coastline. Every tree and blade of grass differed from the mortal world—some trunks gleamed like white jade, some leaves shimmered like golden foil. Once, we saw a group of deer, their coats silvery white, antlers glowing with a moonlit radiance. They only blinked at us curiously, not the least bit afraid.

“Father, they’re not afraid of people,” Yi Yi whispered.

“Because this is a realm of immortals—there are no hunters, and no evil here.” I replied, though my heart remained guarded. The unknown is often more terrifying than any known danger.

After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, we emerged from a sandalwood-scented grove to a breathtaking sight—a palace so magnificent words failed to do it justice, standing silent in a mountain hollow.

I could not tell what kind of jade had been used to build it; it gleamed pure white, reflecting a sacred light even in gentle sunlight. The roof was not tiled, but forged from a single piece of blue crystal; the carved beams and pillars bore images of wondrous beasts and flowers I had never seen. The enormous doors stood open, revealing a vast, silent darkness within, like the maw of some ancient beast.

Yi Yi and I halted, awed into stillness by this unexpected grandeur.

“Father… what is that?” Yi Yi’s voice was edged with fear.

I swallowed, tightening my grip on my sword. “It must… be the dwelling of an immortal.” I said this, but my heart was uneasy. The place was far too quiet—eerily so.

“Should we… go inside?”

I looked at her, then at the fathomless hall. We could not remain forever on the shore; perhaps answers awaited us within, perhaps danger. But as a father, I had to choose.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” I spoke the words again, as if they were my only incantation. “We’ll just look from the doorway, not go in. If there’s danger, I’ll take you and run right away.”

Hand in hand, step by cautious step, we ascended the white jade stairs. With every step, my heart leapt higher in my chest.

Standing before the towering doors, I peered inside. The hall was vast beyond measure, its ceiling supported by pillars so thick it would take several men to encircle one. The floor shone like a polished mirror. Aside from these, it was empty—utterly empty, devoid of life.

Summoning my courage, I cleared my throat and called into the emptiness:

“Junior Jiang Xiuyuan, with my daughter Jiang Yiyi, cast ashore by shipwreck and by chance entered this immortal realm. I beg to ask… is there an immortal master present?”

My voice echoed through the great hall, repeating again and again.

“…is there an immortal master present?”
“…an immortal master present?”
“…present?”

The echoes faded, and silence returned, deep as death.

I held tight to Yi Yi’s hand, feeling the cold sweat gathering on her palm. My own back was drenched.

Just as I was about to retreat with her, a voice—not my own echo—rose from the depths of the hall.

It was ancient, weathered, neither male nor female, as if it had come from the dawn of time.

“Since you have come, be at peace… Enter.”