Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

T he rain had stopped by the time Zhengdan and Luyi moved down to join us. They were not the only ones. Now that the sky was an immaculate blue, the dark shine of water on stone and wet lick of the breeze the sole remnants of the storm, the civilians had come out with the sun. Around us, the alleys and paved roads were filling rapidly with carts, horses, merchants. It was as if the day had just begun.

"Are you all right?" Zhengdan asked, grabbing my hand.

I nodded and smiled at her. "Of course."

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, though her voice was fierce. "That cursed turtle egg. I would have killed him if he held on a second longer."

"I'm sure Fanli would have gotten the job done before you," Luyi muttered.

We all turned to him. Fanli, especially, with a tightness in his expression, like a warning.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Zhengdan asked.

"Nothing," Luyi said hastily, catching Fanli's eye. Some silent exchange passed between the two. Whatever it was, Luyi was the first to retreat. "Don't take anything I say to heart; I only ever spew out nonsense."

"It's good that you're self-aware," Fanli said.

Luyi beamed at him. "Yes, you're right. You're always right, my most honorable minister. I'm just glad we're all here and nobody has been charged with murder."

"I'm glad we're here too," Zhengdan said, nudging me with emphasis. I recognized the look on her face. It was the look she wore when she used to sneak into my house after dark to exchange stories; when she plucked the fresh plums from Old Wang's backyard; when she fashioned poles out of branches and went fishing barefoot in the creeks, the murky waters up to her knees; when she dragged me out into the forest to show off a new sword technique she had taught herself. The look she wore when she was about to do something she knew she shouldn't, but wanted to anyway. "Now that the weather is better, can't we stay out a little longer? We haven't had a break from training since we first arrived, and we'll be gone in just three days. I barely even know what the town looks like."

"You can see it from here," Fanli said, waving a sleeve at the stalls on both sides of the street. A long line had started to form in front of a cart that sold fat slices of watermelon and waxberries and cherries, their firm, red-purple skin glowing in the light. Two children trotted past us, laughing, watermelon juice running down their chins, coins jingling in their purses. They must have been from noble families; only the wealthy could show such joyous carelessness in an age of war and instability. They assumed their money protected them from everything. The ultimate injustice was that sometimes it did.

"It's not the same thing," Zhengdan protested.

Fanli retrieved a fan from his inner robes and flipped it open with a clean snapping sound. He waved it slowly with one hand as he spoke. "We still have three texts to go through this afternoon."

Zhengdan turned to me, sulking like a child, and mouthed: You try.

I had always considered myself more principled than Zhengdan. But I was also the one who had held out the basket for her to throw in her stolen plums, who had opened the door at night to let her inside; I never knew how to refuse her. And so I gazed up at Fanli. "Just this once," I said, not expecting anything to come of it. "Please."

He hesitated. The fan in his hand went still.

"We can head back before it's dark," I pressed. "And when was the last time you did anything for leisure? You deserve a break too."

Something rippled over his features, and the frost in his eyes receded as he met my gaze. I stifled my next breath. All this time I had thought his eyes to be pure black, but now I could see the warm flecks of brown, the ring of molten gold around his iris, like preserved amber, the reflection of a gleaming crown. "All right," he said.

Luyi made a spluttering sound. I could not quite believe it myself. "All right?" he repeated, then promptly snapped his mouth shut as Fanli's face turned to ice again. "I merely meant—I had not thought it possible to sway you on any matter."

Fanli's voice was dry. "Do you wish for me to change my mind?"

"No," Luyi said in a hurry, and, as if afraid Fanli really would regret his decision, twisted on his heel to join the crowds swarming the streets. Zhengdan followed close after him, leaving me with Fanli.

A beat of silence passed between us. It felt new. It was new—to have such freedom, or at least some semblance of it, the paths ahead of us open and scattered with fallen pink petals, the scent of firecracker smoke and osmanthus honey hanging in the air.

"What would you like to see?" he asked, tilting his head. There was a rare touch of uncertainty to his demeanor too. "I will follow you."

"Really? Anywhere?"

"Anywhere," he said.

He spoke the truth. As I pushed my way through the wagons and ran from stall to stall, he followed quietly after me, without complaint. Every time I turned around, he was there, one hand behind his arrow-straight back, the other waving his white fan so it covered the lower half of his face. And though I was surrounded by stunning sights I had never even dreamed of—rolls of glimmering fabric so soft they looked to have been spun with magic, glittering hairpins carved into the shape of butterflies and cranes with jewels for eyes, zodiac animals shaped from melted gold sugar, pastries pressed into intricate flower molds—I found myself distracted again and again by his beauty. How he walked down the street like everything else was insubstantial.

But it was not just me who had noticed. A group of young women giggled from the shade, their eyes sweeping hungrily over Fanli.

"He must be a scholar," one said in a whisper designed to be heard. "He has such pretty hands, and the air of a poet."

"Or perhaps he is a warrior. He looks like he knows how to hold a sword."

"Hush, now, he is watching."

"Shall we invite him over?"

I skidded to a stop beside the closest stall and motioned for Fanli to come over. There was a sour taste in my mouth, like I had bitten into an unripe grapefruit.

"Yes?" he said, moving to my side in an instant. "Would you like to buy something?"

The idea was far from my mind, certainly further than the image of those women inviting Fanli to do anything, but the vendor leaned in with great eagerness, his gray beard trembling as he spoke. "How about these?" he asked, gesturing to the rows of crimson bracelets laid out over the cloth. They were all made of simple string and tied together with a small silver bead. "The string of fate," he said. "It ensures that you are bound for eternity, that your souls will find their way back to each other in every life. Perfect for a pair of young lovers."

It took a moment for the assumption to sink in, and once it did, fierce heat rushed up my neck. I waited for Fanli to clarify, but he only swallowed, like he was pushing an emotion down.

"Do you want it?" he asked me.

I had the sense, then, that we were standing on the brink of something; one step in the wrong direction, and we would both fall in. "It is pretty," I said, in the same neutral voice he'd used.

He turned to the vendor. "How much?"

The vendor started to reply, but I reached for my purse, and shook out a light handful of coins.

"This is all we have," I told him.

The vendor's mouth puckered. "That's hardly enough," he said. "A single bracelet is worth twice that."

I smiled sweetly at him. "Unless your bracelets are woven from gold, I doubt it. If you are unwilling to sell for such a reasonable price, then we will find something elsewhere." I spun around and had taken but two steps when the vendor heaved a sigh.

"How did you know to do that?" Fanli asked as I set my coins down on the cloth. He spoke with genuine wonder, and watched me with sharp attention, like a boy who had just witnessed a magic trick.

"Have you never bartered before?"

He shook his head.

"But surely you must negotiate often in court?"

"Those tricks would not work here," he said, his tone thoughtful. "I would have needed a day in advance to gather intelligence and root out my opponent's weaknesses, their greatest fears, their attachments, and search through their past records for any crimes I could hold against them."

I laughed, then realized he was not joking.

"Here you go," the vendor said, holding out the two bracelets. "Have a good day."

I took one and extended the other to Fanli, my heart beating oddly in my chest. When he didn't move, just gazed at me with that unreadable expression of his, I faltered. Perhaps I had already stepped too far, pushed too hard against the invisible constraints. "You don't have to wear it," I said, feigning indifference. "Do with it whatever you like. You can even throw it away, if you wish, or give it to someone else."

"No," he said, taking the red string, his fingers brushing briefly against mine. His skin was soft, warm. I fought hard not to react, to recognize the feelings stirring inside me. "I'll keep it."

But as he slipped it inside his inner robes, a commotion sounded down the street. The violent drum of a horse's hooves, yellow dust blowing into the air, clouding the antique displays and fresh fruit stands. There came a succession of loud crashes, broken by screams. A whip hissing.

" Make way for General Ma ," someone roared. " Make way or die. "

At once Fanli tensed, his mannerisms shifting, his fan exchanged in one movement for the hilt of his sword.

I was alert too.

They came like the monsters from my memory: ten men in bronze armor, rising tall on their powerful steeds, the Wu flag racing in the wind behind them. They rode on without care, without discipline, leaving utter chaos in their wake. Their long whips fell again and again on the horses' flanks, but were swung with such recklessness that they cut close to anyone within their vicinity, lashing open sleeves and overturning cartons of berries. Howling children were yanked to the side seconds before they were trampled by those merciless hooves. Porcelains tipped over and shattered on the tiles.

My stomach lurched.

Then I spotted one of the women from earlier. She stood frozen in the middle of the street, her eyes wide with horror. The soldiers showed no signs of slowing.

Without thinking, I rushed forward and seized her wrist, pulling her back with all the strength I possessed. Just in time. The horses charged so close I could feel the heat of their breath prickling my bare neck, smell the oil and leather. The air trembled with their raw strength. Even the ground seemed to shake beneath my feet.

"A shame we didn't run you over," one of the soldiers called behind him. The others cackled with mad laughter.

My heart was still pounding as I drew back from the woman, though I no longer knew if it was from fear, or rage. Now the immediate danger was gone, I saw that the woman was really just a girl, her skin pressed with thick powder, her lips dabbed crimson to appear more mature. She was the one who had remarked on Fanli's hands, though that already felt like it had happened a long time ago. It all seemed so trivial by comparison, so frivolous.

"Th-thank you," she whispered, rearranging her robes with trembling fingers. "The soldiers have never come to this side of town before… I didn't know—I wasn't expecting it…"

"It's all right," I said. "Be more careful next time. The Wu are all monsters."

She flushed, the redness of her cheeks visible even beneath that heavy powder. "I am from the Wu Kingdom myself," she told me.

I stared at her. Something in my mind seemed to fracture, and briefly, for only an instant, the state borders faded away. The enemy lines shifted, separating girls like us from men like them, commoners from soldiers, the powerless from the powerful.

But then I remembered the look of wide-eyed terror on Susu's face, the way she had struggled against the blade—

My teeth clenched. No, the enemy was and had always been the Wu.

I stepped back from the girl, letting her friends come forth and flock around her in a hurricane of silks and perfumes. At the same time, Fanli approached, with Zhengdan and Luyi trailing after him.

"That was very brave," he said, his eyes dark, the line of his jaw hard, "and very foolish."

"I will choose to believe you're complimenting me," I told him, straightening. "In which case, I am flattered."

Zhengdan was gazing into the horizon, tracking the silhouettes of the soldiers as they rode farther and farther away. Her fist was clenched by her side. "I can't believe I missed him," she hissed. "He was right there , and I couldn't do anything."

"Who?" I asked, taken aback by the venom in her tone.

"General Ma."

It was only then that the name truly clicked. General Ma. In my mind, I saw the dented helmet in the official's outstretched hands, the bronze smeared with blood. Zhengdan hadn't shed a tear when she received the news. Instead she had grabbed her father's sword and raced off into the forest. She had come back later that night with weeping calluses, shaking limbs, scratches slicing through her skin. I had found her and pressed a jar of homemade ointment into her hands and said nothing. I still didn't have the words to hold my own grief. But she understood me.

"You couldn't have done anything anyway," I told her gently. "Not without exposing your identity."

"One day, then," she said, the lines of her face set with furious resolve. "One day, I will raise a sword to his neck, even if it is the last thing I ever do. I swear it."