Chapter 25

XIAN

Xian stood alone in front of the Spirit Hall. The sky was still dark, but in the distance, he could hear the neighing of horses

and the grind of wagon wheels, the clamor of his delegation preparing to leave at the first light of dawn.

He entered the temple through the dragon door, and the noises from outside fell away. The silence was a knell as resonant

as the three-pronged sān qīng bells that Daoist priests tolled during rituals to beckon deities and banish demons.

The cruel words he'd spoken to Zhen in the dungeon rang in his mind with the same copper clarity. Xian had wanted so badly

to change his hurt into hate. After Zhen had deceived him, made him a laughingstock in front of the entire Min court and his

own entourage... he'd thought saying the words out loud right to Zhen's face would extinguish the connection between them.

A prince does not cry , his father had sternly told four-year-old Xian when he ran to the throne chamber in tears after Wang wrestled him to the

ground and pulled down his pants while his other half brothers laughed. A prince does not show weakness.

A prince should not feel heartbroken.

But seeing Zhen locked inside the cell, shivering and bereft... it had almost undone him. Despite everything, Xian still

couldn't bring himself to hate the boy responsible for his mother's suffering. How pathetic. How unfilial—

"Prince of Wuyue."

He turned. The priest had emerged from the inner shrine.

" Dao Zhang ." Xian bowed. "I am leaving Changle. I have come to give thanks and petition the gods for a safe journey back to my father's

palace."

His words were hollow, dutiful, and he had a feeling the priest could tell. The priest, his crinkled eyes unblinking, studied

Xian as if he were gazing into his soul. Xian glanced away, unused to feeling so exposed, as if the unseen wound inside him

that had ripped wide open when he saw Zhen transform into a snake was clear for all to behold, a badge of shame and dishonor.

"You came in search of the cure for your mother's illness," the priest said. "Are you leaving with what you hoped to find?"

A pang went through Xian.

"Yes," he replied. "At a price."

The priest gave a solemn nod. "You have been betrayed."

Xian blinked. Was it that obvious?

The priest took two jiǎo bēi —crescent-shaped bamboo blocks painted red—and pressed them into Xian's hands. "Perhaps this will give you some clarity of

mind."

The jiǎo bēi were always used in pairs. The concave side of each block represented yang, the convex side yin. A pilgrim would ask the gods

a question and throw both blocks to the floor. If one came up yin and the other yang, it was shèng jiǎo , the answer of sagehood—the deities were in favor. If both were yang, it meant xiào jiǎo , the answer of derision—the deities were laughing in scorn. If both fell to yin, the deities were displeased— nù jiǎo , the answer of fury.

The priest spoke. "Your doubts may seem insignificant now. You may dismiss them like water disappearing through cracks. But

over time, the water will freeze and then thaw, becoming strong enough to break massive rocks apart."

Xian stared at the blocks. A part of him still desperately wanted to believe that he hadn't fallen for the enemy. That the

undisguised emotion in Zhen's eyes when he gazed up at Xian as they made love was real...

No. None of that was important. The only person who mattered now was his mother. He shut his eyes, his fingers tightening

around the two curved bamboo blocks as he silently asked:

Is Zhen the one who will save my mother's life?

He threw the blocks into the air. When they clattered to the floor, the sound echoed sharply through the chamber.

He opened his eyes.

One block was facing up, and the other was facing down.

Xian's heart constricted. Shèng jiǎo . The gods had given their approval.

Zhen was the cure that the oracle had predicted. Fahai would find a way to use him to create the antidote. His mother would

live.

A rush of relief went through him as he touched the front of his shirt, where the jade amulet was hidden. But at the same

time, there was something else, a spasm of pain deep inside his chest, like a reverse heartbeat that pushed his blood backward,

against nature.

Xian forced his misgivings aside. He put his palms together and bowed. "I am eternally grateful for your guidance, Dao Zhang ."

As he turned to leave, his heart was as heavy as the gilt bronze statues of deities that surrounded the pilgrims' hall.

You have been betrayed.

The priest was referring to Zhen, but in another way, Xian was a traitor to himself. He had to root out the last treacherous

feelings for Zhen that still lingered. But it was as impossible as trying to draw out water that had already slipped through

the cracks in his heart.

He walked toward the tiger door, but he was so preoccupied that he almost forgot which leg he was supposed to step with. He

halted on the threshold just in time and crossed over the red plank with his right foot.