In truth, we were similar. Like two sides of a fan, we were at odds with each other, we competed with each other, but our fates similarly rested in the hands of the Emperor – the holder, the commander, the manipulator of our destinies.

...children are birds, and a mother is the tree. No matter how far the birds fly, they always long for the tree to rest on.But a tree will fall...Even if it falls or dies, its roots delve deep into a child's heart and nourish it with her eternal thoughts.

In truth, we were similar. Like two sides of a fan, we were at odds with each other, we competed with each other, but our fates similarly rested in the hands of the Emperor--the holder, the commander, the manipulator of our destinies.

The night garden felt like a home, with the glittering sky for the ceiling, the bushes our rug, and the dilapidated pavilion our bed. He lit up the place like a heart-warming hearth fire. He was the walls of my sanctuary, the food for my eyes, the scent of a home. He was everything.