THIRTY-SEVEN
The further away they travelled from the capital, the more each mountain lake reminded Yi of Mao. At first, it was just because they all seemed to be the same shade of blue green as Mao's court clothes in one of the saddlebags, until he found himself thinking almost constantly of his former roommate. Could the man he'd known truly have been a woman all this time?
The erotic dreams had returned, featuring a woman whose face he still could not see, but Yi no longer woke up in horror when he saw Mao's face or heard his voice in his dreams. Instead, he wondered whether Mao was simply a particularly muscular girl with a deep voice and a homely face who had chosen to join the army because she feared she would never be beautiful enough to attract a husband.
There were days he did
