“Ahh, young man,” Amah said. “That is quite a story.”

“Good!” Sifen said, and he looked at Pinmei. “You know I love stories.”

Amah smiled and sat down.

Pinmei, however, looked at the decorated beam above her. It was a painting of an old man on a mountain, looking at the sea below. A sea dragon roared up from the waves with a maiden of extraordinary beauty by its side, her arm extended as if she had just caught something. All the creatures of the sea, from a graceful longma to a smiling fish, were bowing toward the mountain in gratitude. Above the sun—or was it the moon?—a rainbow arched in the sky. The painting was so detailed Pinmei could even see that between the fingers of the maiden’s outstretched hand was a thin silver needle.

“Come, then!” Sifen said as Yanna and the stonecutter joined. “Tell the story!”

Pinmei looked down from the painting and saw the eyes of Yanna and the stonecutter, Sifen, and even Amah watching her eagerly. Amah patted her leg.

“Yes,” Amah said, her smile broadening, “tell the story.”

“I will,” Pinmei said, and sat down.

Outside the pavilion, the glowing flowers repeated the colors of the painted rainbow, and the white clouds above echoed the cresting waves of water. Two butterflies, red and blue, flitted together as if writing poems in the air. I will never forget, Yishan had said, and that is truly the only immortality that matters.

Finally understanding, Pinmei closed her eyes, the memories of all she had lost and gained weaving around her in a glorious, invisible tapestry. When she opened her eyes, the others were still staring at her, waiting for her to start the story.

Pinmei smiled and began. “When the sea turned to silver…”