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Chapter 20

ZHEN

Dusk had fallen by the time they arrived back at the palace. Xian accompanied Feng to the infirmary; Fahai started to follow,

but he paused and turned to Zhen.

"Well done," he said. "Your swift reflexes out there saved the day."

Zhen was surprised at the compliment. "Thank you. I did the best I could."

"It was strange," Fahai mused, his gaze fixed on Zhen. "The leopard escaped just as I nocked my arrow. And the white snake

seemed to know we intended to capture it... almost as if they could understand us."

Zhen inwardly tensed but managed not to show it. "I suppose that's why it's called instinct."

When Zhen returned alone to the royal manor, Qing was waiting with the dinner dishes. "Where's everyone? The food's getting cold."

"We were ambushed by a leopard while out hunting," Zhen told her. "Feng defended the prince, and the leopard attacked him

instead. He's in the infirmary now."

Qing looked worried. "Is he going to be all right?"

"I think so. The leopard bit his shoulder, not his throat." Zhen sighed. "I should've been more alert. But I was distracted

by a white snake and didn't hear it approaching—"

"You met another white snake? Was it a python as well?"

Zhen shook his head. "It was a krait. Smaller, but very venomous. I rode ahead and tried to warn off as many snakes as I could,

but this one must've panicked and darted out."

"Hey. You can't save them all." Qing reached out and rubbed her thumb over a smudge of dirt on Zhen's cheek. "I keep telling

you that, but you never listen."

Zhen had to do everything he could to prevent more bloodshed—even if that meant putting himself in danger by working against

the prince's purpose. "I have to try."

"I know." A smile lifted the edges of Qing's mouth. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't."

After Qing left, Zhen washed up and changed into a clean robe. He went around the chamber refreshing the incense sticks and

ensuring the tea leaves were fresh, but it didn't make him feel any less restless. Or helpless.

Qing was right. He couldn't save everyone. Like that dead snake on the shore of the islet with the fishhook in its mangled mouth. The old tortoise spirit had told him that day about yin and yang, about how the equilibrium always found itself. But that harsh truth of the universe didn't make the crushing sense of futility any easier to bear.

Finally, just before midnight, the doors slid open and Xian stepped in, his face drawn. The front of his leather hunting tunic

was stained with traces of Feng's blood.

Zhen quickly walked to him. "How is Feng?"

"They fixed his dislocated shoulder, but he was running a high fever," Xian replied. "The physicians were afraid that some

kind of disease had entered his blood through the bite. Fahai prepared a decoction of herbs to draw out any toxins. We'll

have to wait and see if that helps."

Zhen remembered the food Qing had brought. "You must be hungry. Dinner has gone cold, but I can go to the kitchen—"

"There's no need." Xian sounded weary as he rubbed the back of his neck. "They brought me something to eat at the infirmary.

I'll check on Feng again in a few hours. Hopefully his fever will have broken by then."

Zhen dropped to his knees. He glimpsed Xian's surprise.

"I was supposed to be the guide." Zhen bowed his head. "I should have been more alert. What happened to Feng was my fault.

I'll accept any punishment you choose."

"Don't be ridiculous." Xian took Zhen's arm and pulled him to his feet. "You were the only one who noticed the leopard's weak

leg and managed to drive it off. You saved Feng's life."

If the leopard had attacked Xian instead, and if it had refused to listen to Zhen's warning to flee, Zhen would've done much more than strike its leg. Pythons were powerful constrictors and could coil their bodies around their prey in the blink of an eye, cutting off blood circulation and blocking airways. Zhen couldn't do that as a human, but if he'd had to, he would have gone down fighting. He owed Xian that much.

"I was so close." The quiet anguish in Xian's voice was almost more than Zhen could bear. "The white snake was right there—and

I let it slip out of my reach."

"That leopard attacked out of nowhere." Zhen tried to keep his voice neutral. "We had to help Feng. You made the only natural

choice."

"Cùn cǎo chūn huī." A sad smile ghosted across Xian's mouth. "A child can never repay a mother's love, just like a blade of grass cannot repay

the spring's sunlight. I carry my mother's hopes in my name, but I have failed her again. I am an unworthy son."

In that moment, Zhen wanted to tell him the truth. The truth about the pearl, his real identity, everything.

"Your mother doesn't believe that," Zhen whispered instead. "She gave you a name that means ‘immortal' for a reason."

"You remembered." An unidentifiable emotion flitted across Xian's face. "What about you? Which character is your name?"

Zhen was caught off guard. "I'm... not sure. I don't know how to read or write."

Before he became a snake spirit, other creatures had called him Little White One, for his unusual color. The first time he had transformed, as he lay shivering and naked on a muddy riverbank, he distantly heard a boy's laughter, a woman calling, "Zhen! Zhen!"

"Maybe it's this one." Xian went to the dresser table, picked up a brush, and wrote a single character on a piece of parchment:

貞 . "It means ‘virtue and loyalty.'?"

An inexplicable feeling bloomed inside Zhen's chest as he stared at the character in Xian's handwriting. He had chosen the

name because he liked the way it sounded and it was the first name he had heard as a human. But now, he felt as if Xian had

given him not just the meaning of his name but another piece of who he was.

Xian walked to the copper basin and splashed some water on his face. Zhen glanced at the gilded bathtub that stood in one

corner of the chamber. Steward Chu had said his job duties included drawing a bath for the prince.

He spoke. "Would you... uh, like me to draw you a bath?"

There was a pause. Zhen held his breath, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt.

Xian met his gaze. "I would like that."

Zhen's heart was beating faster than usual as he prepared the bath, first boiling water on the stove and then pouring it into

the bathtub with a jug. Xian walked to the wooden clothes rack and, facing away from Zhen, stripped off his tunic and undershirt.

It wasn't the first occasion Xian had disrobed in his presence, but this time would be... different. Xian would be naked

for a long while, and Zhen would be right there. He wasn't sure whether he regretted offering the bath or that Xian had said

yes.

Then Xian turned around, and the handle of the jug nearly slipped from Zhen's hand.

Zhen had never paid close attention to the details of the human physique, but now his eyes drank in the lean muscles in Xian's

arms, the taut angles of his abdomen, the tracery of dark hair trailing downward from his belly button...

Zhen tore his gaze away. The heat on his cheeks had nothing to do with the steam rising from the water. He tried to focus

on the soap powder, the washcloth, and the pumice that was much smoother than the one Zhen had been scoured with in preparation

for his first night as the prince's attendant. But his hands were unsteady, and he accidentally added too much soap to the

bath, creating a thick layer of bubbly lather on the surface.

Xian walked toward him. He seemed unperturbed by being naked... and by the effect he was having on Zhen.

Zhen swallowed past the knot in his throat. "Please be careful. The water is a little hot."

Xian raised his foot and tested the water with his toes before he gracefully stepped into the tub. Zhen was almost relieved

when the lower half of Xian's body disappeared beneath the bubbles. Xian closed his eyes and leaned against the tub, his elbows

resting on the edge.

Zhen ran the pumice over Xian's shoulders and the back of his neck, careful not to tug at the strands of hair that had come

loose from his bun. He took the opportunity to admire the ridge of Xian's collarbones, the line of his jaw, the plane of his

chest where the jade amulet rested.

Xian let out a soft, satisfied sound when Zhen began massaging his shoulders, kneading his tight muscles in slow circles to unknot the tension. Pressure built between Zhen's thighs, and he shifted uncomfortably. He had never been so attracted to anyone before. How many more times could he clean the upper half of Xian's body without venturing beneath the water?

Zhen ran the washcloth over Xian's chest—without warning, Xian's hand darted out and caught Zhen's wrist.

Zhen froze.

"My name." The droplets on Xian's lashes gleamed like tiny pearls. "I want to hear you say it."

The space between them was everything and nothing at the same time. The air was thick and heavy, like in the woodlands before

a thunderstorm, sharp with the scent of petrichor. Zhen was sure the other boy could hear his heart pounding inside his rib

cage, the same way pythons could feel the ebbing pulses of their prey...

"Xu," Zhen began, but Xian shook his head.

"No." He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Call me Xian."

Zhen stared at him wide-eyed, like an animal pinned by a brilliant light.

"Xian," he exhaled. He let the name roll off his tongue again, and it was the most natural thing in the world. "Xian..."

Raw emotion coalesced in Xian's eyes at the sound of his name, and a sharp coil of yearning tightened inside Zhen's lower abdomen. But the other boy didn't move forward, as if he were consciously holding himself at the brink of an invisible line that he was waiting for Zhen to cross.

You're the one who has to make the first move , Qing had said.

Zhen kissed him. The rush was dizzying, overwhelming, like the time he had swallowed the pearl, except now it was Xian's mouth

moving against his, the pleasurable scrape of his stubble grazing Zhen's lips—

Xian abruptly rose from the tub, sending water sloshing over the edges, rivulets streaming down his limbs. Zhen pulled back,

dazed, and automatically reached for a towel, but Xian stopped him.

"You'll catch a cold—" Zhen began.

Xian stepped out of the tub and drew him close against his naked body. "I don't care."

This time, Xian's mouth was hard, searching, his tongue flicking against Zhen's, teeth tugging at his lower lip. The roughness

was startling, but Zhen couldn't get enough of it.

Xian urged Zhen to the platform bed and maneuvered him onto his back without breaking their kiss. He straddled Zhen's waist

and leaned over him, the jade amulet around his neck swinging like a pendulum.

Zhen took Xian's face in his hands and pulled him down until their mouths met again. He wanted Xian so badly he could hardly

breathe. His fingers tangled in Xian's hair, loosening more strands from his bun. Xian slid a hand between their bodies—even

through the layer of clothing Zhen wore, a shock went through him, and he jolted in response.

Xian immediately stopped. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Zhen sucked in a shuddering breath. "It's just that I've never..."

He trailed off, expecting a flash of impatience from the other boy. But instead, Xian stroked Zhen's cheek, brushing a lock

of hair away from his face.

"It's all right," he told Zhen. "We don't have to do anything."

Xian's fingertips were calloused, likely from hours of gripping sword hilts and drawing arrows. A reminder of his future as

the leader of a kingdom, someone who expected to be obeyed without question. Yet here he was, refusing to demand that right

when they were alone. He didn't want anything from Zhen that he wasn't willing to give.

A stone on the wéi qí board couldn't be moved unless it was captured. The boy who had shared an apricot with him in the stable, who had made a

pot of pu'er tea and taught him how to savor it, who hadn't hesitated to wipe his bleeding nose with his own sleeve...

he had captured Zhen's heart.

Zhen didn't look away as he loosened the front of his own robe. Surprise flickered in Xian's eyes, which swiftly darkened

with desire that mirrored his own.

Zhen took the small bottle by the bed and pressed it into Xian's palm.

"I want to," he whispered.

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