Under the warm amber glow of the courtyard paper lanterns, the pale silver starlight around Empress Luo Qingxue’s fingertips began to scatter like tiny, weightless snowflakes drifting upward toward the night sky.
Eleven-year-old Gu Nian was the first of the five children to notice.
The boy had been laughing with his brothers and sisters as White-Tiger Patriarch Hu Lie hauled the neon-pink-vested Enforcers down the mountain road behind the manure carts.
Suddenly, Gu Nian’s small boots skidded to a halt on the cedar porch boards.
His dark eyes widened as he stared at his mother’s slender right hand resting on the polished wooden railing.
Through the snow-white skin of her fingers, he could clearly see the grain of the cedar wood underneath.
“Mom?” Gu Nian’s voice dropped to a frightened whisper.
He dropped his cast-iron frying pan with a soft clatter, ran over to her side, and tried to hold her right hand between both of his warm palms.
