On the edge of the horizon, there was a pool of honeyed spring water where the most alluring of maidens would bathe. And before the world was sheathed in roads and houses, this pool was already radiant with natural beauty. The maidens were few in number, but they each shone like a ball of light. The most striking was named Changxi. Her skin shone with a pale, silvery glow, and her eyes were warm and milky. Gauzy wings protruded from her shoulder blades, gathering her up into the sky. Her raiment was slim and pearly, designed for the climate of the summer pool. She kept two white horses, dressed in crescent livery, letting them roam in the jungle near the water margin. The maidens would bathe by the starlight, for there was no moon, no sun, in those times. There was only immutable night.
From the reeds at the edge of the pool, men would watch the maidens with covetous eyes. There were few people in this stygian world, and the men hungered for wives. They wanted children, driven by a primal need. And so they watched, and chose who would be their brides.
One day the most venturesome of the men emerged from the reeds, and a ripple went through the ranks of maidens. They had never seen a man before, hidden away on the edge of the horizon, providing light only to their small corner of the world. But the maidens were strong, much taller than the men, and much more beautiful. They had no reason to be afraid.
Di Jun was a bold warrior. He already had many children, scattered in various tribes across the continent. But when he heard about a mysterious pool in a faraway land, inhabited only by enigmatic, scantily-clad women, he could not resist the urge to make the journey. Intrepid, he immediately set his sights on the most resplendent of them all, Changxi.
Changxi was daring and rebellious, and she was also intelligent. She often wondered what the world was like outside of the pool, if there was something that she was missing. Di Jun spoke to her of far off lands, of villages and history, of marriage and of children. Though she had lived for many years, she had never heard of such things. A fire lit in her eyes, and she began to yearn for adventure. And though she would not allow Di Jun to touch her, she lent him one of her horses and they rode together toward the settlements in the east.
When they arrived at Di Jun's home, Changxi learned that he had other wives and many children. Di Jun bragged to the other men of his gorgeous, wild wife, who he had tamed and brought back from the west. She saw the way that the other wives of the village were treated: objectified, like animals bought and sold to rear offspring. If she stayed with this man, what would she become? She would not be free, commanding Changxi any longer.
Taking her two steeds gently by the mane, she lifted them on her wings into the air, a gentle, luminous fairy soaring into the stars. The air was cool and her raiment thin, so she wrapped herself in stardust. She flew silently through the night air. The men and women on the plain gasped and looked up in wonder. What was this new ball of light that glided through the sky as if pulled along by horses? They called her the moon, and wondered if she would appear again.
Changxi flew to the horizon, to the summer pool she once called her home. She had kept her power, kept her freedom. It was something she would allow no one to take from her. But now she knew of the ways of men and women, knew what she was missing. The thought of the villages on the plains and the secrets of mountains and rivers kept her curious. And so every so often, she would ride one of her steeds into the sky, wearing a thick gown of stardust, and peer below her, exploring the Earth with her inquisitive eyes.
