Chapter 32

ZHEN

Zhen lowered Xian to the floor of the chamber. Thankfully Fahai had removed the bīn collar around his neck before submerging

him. His spirit powers were greatly weakened by the cultivation pool, but he had somehow mustered enough healing energy to

divert blood from Zhen's meridians and prevent the toxin from reaching his heart. Xian had lost consciousness, but his breathing

was stable.

He had to get Xian out of there as soon as possible. It was only a matter of time before Wang returned with the palace guards

in tow. He would not stop until he saw his half brother dead. Which meant the best way to ensure that he wouldn't come after

them was to make him think he had succeeded.

There was an empty urn close by, and Zhen put it next to Xian. Then he shut his eyes, focused his mind, and passed his palm over the ceramic vessel. When he opened his eyes, the urn had disappeared—and in its place lay a faceless human body. A dummy.

Transmutation was one of the most difficult skills he had learned through cultivation, and the biggest challenge was prolonging

the length of time the objects would stay in their transmuted form. The year before, the items he changed could last for only

a couple of hours, like the blade of grass he had turned into a coin and given the old man in exchange for Qing. With more

practice, the transmuted objects could now keep their form for a day. Hopefully that would be long enough to fool Wang.

Zhen took the ornately carved bronze hairpin from Xian's bun and laid it above the dummy's head. That should be enough proof

of the body's identity.

He hoisted Xian onto his back and tied Xian's wrists in front of his own chest with a cloth cord so he wouldn't accidentally

slide off. A large barrel of stone-lacquer oil stood near one of the pillars, and Zhen tipped it over; the flammable liquid

spilled, raced across the floor, and flowed around the dummy, filling the chamber with a sharp, stinging scent.

Zhen took a lit torch from its wall bracket and tossed it onto the oil. Flames sprang up, wreathing the dummy. As the fire

spread swiftly across the chamber, Zhen cast one last glance at the cultivation pool. Its perfectly round surface absorbed

the glare of the flames and reflected nothing.

He rounded his shoulders to bear Xian's weight more comfortably and ascended the uneven steps into Fahai's laboratory on the level above. The doors of a wooden cabinet had been thrown open, revealing neatly labeled bottles of venom inside.

This was probably where Fahai experimented on the snakes Xian had captured. Empty bamboo cages were stacked at the other end

of the room. Several contained silvery gossamers of snake skin sheds. Snakes shed their skins every three to six months, which

meant some of the former occupants of these cages had been kept there for longer. Were they released... or killed?

The acrid scent of smoke wafting up the stairwell from the chamber below was a warning that he couldn't linger. He turned

away from the gruesome laboratory and made his way up the last flight of steps that led out of the pagoda.

He burst through the iron door and breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with the familiar, unforgettable scent of the

West Lake. All these years, he had longed to return, but his guilt over the boy he had left behind on the islet in the middle

of the lake had kept him away.

Now he carried that boy on his back, and he would stop at nothing to keep him safe.

Something rustled in the distance, and Zhen spun around, tensing. A moment later, Zhaoye trotted out of the shadows, shaking

his dark mane as he came toward Zhen.

Zhen couldn't suppress a smile as he put a hand on Zhaoye's flank. "Hello, my friend."

The prince's horse stood obediently still as Zhen climbed into the saddle with Xian behind him. Xian didn't stir, but Zhen could feel his heartbeat against his back.

Zhen still remembered the terrain around the West Lake, especially the secret paths through the woodlands that only animals

knew. The forest he had come from would remember its own, and it would watch over them.

He guided Zhaoye up the steep, unmarked trail that led to the top of Feilai Peak, its majestic limestone bluffs towering over

the surrounding sandstone mountains. They halted briefly on the ridge, and Zhen looked back.

In the distance, the base of Leifeng Pagoda glowed, a fiery ember on the southern shore, spirals of smoke rising like incense

in the night.

He faced front and rode on.

They arrived at the small hut in the middle of the forest two hours later. The walls were made almost entirely of bamboo,

which kept the interior dry during heavy rains and cool during humid summers. After Zhen had become a snake spirit, he had

spent several months living there on his own. He didn't know who had built the hut, but the spartan furnishings within hinted

at someone who had sought frugal seclusion. The table and bed had weathered from their original teak color to a faded silver-gray.

Both his clothes and Xian's were still wet from being in the pool. The wind at this altitude was chilly even during the summer, and he couldn't let Xian catch a cold. Zhen transmuted two hemp sacks into two plain white robes. He changed into one and carefully dressed Xian in the other. The twin punctures on the back of Xian's left shoulder where the dart had found its mark had already begun to heal.

A cold draft blew through the open window, and Zhen coughed. A single drop of crimson fell onto his own sleeve. Zhen blinked;

his hand went to his mouth, where copper wetness clung to his lower lip.

Nosebleeds were a sign of rising imbalance in the body, but coughing up blood was a serious warning that internal illness

had already taken hold. The pearl's power was the only way to save Xian from the venom—but rescuing Qing last year had weakened

him considerably, and being immersed in the cultivation pool had further drained his strength. Fahai had said the pearl was

worth five hundred years of cultivation, which meant its power was not infinite. Zhen was dangerously close to overusing whatever

remained.

He would worry about that later. Right now, he was more concerned about Xian. He touched two fingers to Xian's wrist—his pulse

was weak and threadlike, and he still hadn't woken up. As Zhen laid him on the bed, the jade pendant around Xian's neck slipped

out from the folds of his robe.

Xian had said that his mother had given it to him as a protective stone. A swell of emotion rose inside Zhen's chest. Maybe

this was his purpose... his penance. He owed Xian's mother that much. He would stay by her son's side and be his protector.

He stepped out of the hut. Overhead, the stars were distant and remote, and the waning moon looked like someone had taken a knife and sliced off a crescent. He had missed the kind of dense night that existed only out in the woods, far beyond the reach of lamps and torches.

He went to the well behind the hut and drew water for Zhaoye to drink before leading him to a grassy clearing. While Zhaoye

grazed, Zhen ventured farther into the woods to forage for what he needed. As a snake, Zhen instinctively knew which plants

to avoid, such as marigolds and azaleas. As a human, Zhen had met a kindly apothecary who had taught him how to identify healing

herbs.

He collected various herbs and brought them to the front yard of the hut, where a firepit was sunk into the ground and lined

with stones. He soaked the ingredients in water, crushed them, and put them into a round cauldron that stood on three legs

above the fire. The bitter scent of the herbs in the rising steam brought back visceral memories of the decoction of realgar

that Fahai had made for him on the night of the Duanwu Festival, but he pushed the unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind.

Right now, Xian needed his full attention.

Once the medicine had cooled enough, he ladled some into an earthenware bowl and brought it inside. When he halted by Xian's

bedside, the other boy's eyes opened.

Zhen's heart leaped. "You're awake."

Xian looked very pale, and his gaze was unfocused as he took in his new surroundings.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice raw and scratchy.

"We're in a small hut deep in the highland forests of Feilai Peak," Zhen replied. "We'll be safe here, at least for now." He gestured at the bowl of soup. "Here. Drink this first. It will help you feel better."

Xian sniffed at the contents and grimaced at the smell from the honey locust plant, which was so tart and pungent that it

was often used to revive people who had passed out. "You cooked this?"

"I searched the forest and found zào jiǎo , huáng lián , huáng qín , and a bunch of other medicinal herbs," Zhen replied. "An apothecary once told me they can improve blood flow and draw out

toxins."

Whether Xian drank the medicine or not would prove whether he trusted Zhen... or still viewed him as a traitor. Zhen wondered

if he should volunteer to take the first sip, as Xian had done with the decoction that Fahai had prepared.

A long moment passed before Xian leaned forward and brought his lips to the edge of the bowl. Zhen held the bowl in one hand

and supported the back of Xian's head with the other as Xian drank the entire bowl of soup.

When he finished, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and raised his eyes to Zhen.

"What happened?" he asked. "I don't remember much after pulling Wang's dart out of my shoulder. Did you carry me out of that

underground chamber?"

Zhen nodded. "I also set the place on fire before leaving so they'll think you're dead and won't send out search parties looking

for you."

Xian frowned. "But when they put out the fire and don't find any burned bodies, they'll know we both managed to escape."

"I, uh, transmuted an urn into a human dummy that's supposed to be you."

Xian's brows jumped. "You can do that?"

Zhen winced. "Sorry, I know that sounds terrible. But in that moment, I couldn't think of anything else. The dummy should

keep its form for at least a day. I also left your hairpin behind to convince them it's really you."

Xian's brow creased. "I remember now." He reached around and touched the puncture wounds on his shoulder. "The light...

that was you healing me."

Before Zhen could respond, Xian's gaze cut toward Zhen's arm. To Zhen's horror, a patch of white scales had bloomed on his

forearm. Using the pearl's powers to heal Xian had taken a heavier toll on him than he'd thought. He rotated his arm and tried

to hide the scaly patch against his body, although he knew Xian had already seen it.

"Are you going to turn back into a snake?" Xian's tone was hard to decipher.

Zhen's cheeks burned in shame. "I can't transform even if I wanted to. Fahai took off the collar, but once I was submerged

in the pool, I became locked in my current form."

"What does that pool do?"

"It was meant to enhance cultivation," Zhen replied. "But Fahai altered its purpose so that when he immersed me into the waters,

it would draw out the essence of the pearl instead."

Xian's eyes darkened. "Fahai obviously isn't the person I thought he was. He never told me or my father about the chamber or the cultivation pool."

"I'm sorry," Zhen whispered. "For everything. I shouldn't have lied to you."

Xian was quiet for a moment before he took Zhen's hand, prying his arm away from his side.

"When I found out the truth, I wanted to hate you," he said. "I tried so hard. But I just... couldn't. And when you sacrificed

your chance to escape to stay with me... I knew the part of me that couldn't stop caring about you was right all along."

Then he ran a finger lightly over the pale tracery of scales on Zhen's forearm.

Zhen froze, too stunned to pull back. Xian held his gaze.

"I'm not afraid of who you are," he said intently. "Not anymore."

Who you are. Not what. Zhen couldn't believe his ears. He didn't realize tears had spilled onto his cheeks until Xian reached out, brushed them away with his thumbs, and closed

the distance between their mouths.

The kiss was tentative, almost chaste, as if they were discovering each other for the first time. An explosion of warmth filled

Zhen's heart. He'd never imagined in this life that he would get another chance to hold Xian, to kiss him again...

Zhen wrapped his arms around Xian's neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. When they were in Changle, he had tried to cling to these moments because he knew they wouldn't last—but now he wanted to memorize every single one because they were finally real.

When they pulled apart, neither of them moved back.

"I'm sorry too." Xian held Zhen's face in his hands, a shadow of pain crossing his features. "When I saw you in that chamber,

hanging above the pool..."

Zhen pressed their foreheads together. "I wish you didn't have to see me like that."

Xian shook his head. "It was my fault you ended up that way. I was the one who handed you over to Fahai." He tucked a loose

strand of Zhen's hair behind his ear. "I won't let him lay a hand on you again, I promise."

Zhen glanced down at the blotch of white scales on his forearm that betrayed his true nature. For the first time, he didn't

feel the instinct to hide who he was. He reached out shyly, taking Xian's hand in his; without hesitation, Xian's fingers

entwined with his own.

"In the underground chamber, Fahai told me the pearl's power could be changed into five hundred years of cultivation, and

he reckons there are three hundred left." Zhen bit his lip and drew a deep breath. "I healed you of the venom from Wang's

dart... if you'll let me, I want to use the power from the spirit pearl to try to heal your mother as well."

Xian nodded. "I trust you. But we both need to recover before we return to the palace." His expression hardened. "I have a

score to settle with my half brother—and it's worth coming back from the dead for."