Chapter Twenty

The crowd gathered for the royal announcement at high noon.

Though I couldn't bring myself to look at them from the balcony, I could sense as our audience grew from the nervous whispers

and unanswered questions just beyond the gates.

They had seen the gallows.

Wenshu had paid some carpenters to build them that morning, in full view of the main road. As the day wore on, more and more

people had gathered, curious who they were for. It was exactly what we wanted—for people to see, for word to get back to the

Empress that we were following her orders.

Many people had seen the prince return yesterday. They probably expected him to punish the private armies for destroying his

palace. They didn't know they were about to witness the dawning of a new era.

I sat alone in the throne room on the Empress's throne, looking out the open window. From this height, I could see nothing but the sharp flash of sunlight and the faint ghost of the nearly full moon against the blue sky. In the memories of past emperors, the sky had always seemed so much clearer, like an open expanse of Heaven. But to me, Chang'an had always seemed like a cage, a flat blue ceiling slowly lowering to crush us all.

The Scarlet Alchemist—who had ruined China—was somehow now its sole ruler. It hardly seemed fair, though I supposed fairness

was a childish concept among royalty.

Once, Hong had told me in my own dialect how he would rebuild the world when his mother was dead, stripping the wealthy of

their life gold, sending food and hope to the south. I had inherited the kingdom in his place, and instead of fulfilling his

promise, it had crumbled in my hands.

I gripped the edges of the throne, the sun shifting so its rays were searingly sharp across my face.

Perhaps I would never feel that I was enough of anything to rule this country. But somehow, it was mine, so I had to try.

The door opened, and my chest seized up. It's Gaozong , I thought. But it was only Wenshu.

"Are you ready?" he said.

I shrugged. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

He said nothing, stepping fully into the throne room. He crossed his arms, looking me up and down.

"We'll have to get you some etiquette lessons when this is all over," he said. "You're sitting on that throne like a monkey."

Heat rushed to my face as I uncrossed my legs, setting my feet on the floor. "Is that really our biggest problem?"

Wenshu smiled, though his eyes had no light behind them. "No," he said. "But I look forward to the day that we can worry about

small problems again. It will all be over soon, right?"

I could hear the sharp edge to his question. This will all be fine, won't it, Zilan? You promise?

"Right," I said, not meeting his gaze.

There were a lot of ways this plan could go wrong, leaving both of us dead within the hour. But we had no other options.

Wenshu nodded stiffly. "I'll get started," he said, turning to leave.

As he reached for the doorknob, the shadows fell in stripes across his back, and I was struck with the feeling that this was

the last time I'd ever see him. I'd felt that same strange premonition the day I'd left Auntie So and Uncle Fan back in Guangzhou,

the same childish fear that once they were out of my sight, they'd vanish forever.

But today, that was a real possibility.

"Wait," I said.

Wenshu hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder as he waited for me to speak.

Don't go , I wanted to say, even though I knew how childish it would sound. But I had never gotten to be a child. Just this once, I

wished I could sit here in my brother's arms and let someone else fight monsters in my place. Stay here with me, so there will be no last time for us , I wanted to say. I don't want to ever say goodbye to you again.

"Alchemy relies on the intentions of the alchemist," I said instead, the words stiff, practiced from my studies with the Moon

Alchemist.

Wenshu raised an eyebrow. "Is this really the time for an alchemy lesson?" he said. "I'm not sure how this is relevant to

me."

"You said that I didn't choose you," I said quietly, and I could sense from the sudden stillness in his posture that he knew exactly what I was talking about. "I don't always know what's in my heart," I said. "It's the reason Durian's a duck. I wasn't consciously trying to make a duck, but I was thinking so much about the prince and his overfed ducks with ridiculous names, and some part of me must have found it endearing enough that I wanted a duck of my own." I chanced a glance up at Wenshu, whose expression was unchanged. I took a deep breath.

"When I went to the river of souls that day," I said, "I didn't know whether I was going to bring you or Hong back at first."

Wenshu's face twitched, and I knew it was probably the wrong thing to say, but there was no going back now. "I love him,"

I said. "I love both of you, and I shouldn't have had to choose."

Wenshu shook his head, turning back to the door. "I don't want to hear about—"

"Alchemy knows what's in your heart," I said, ignoring him. " You are my heart, and that's why you're here now."

Slowly, he turned back to me. "I forced you," he whispered. "You don't have to lie to me. I know you love the prince more."

I stepped down from the throne, because I didn't want to talk to him as the Empress, but as his sister. "The way I love Hong

is different," I said, gently taking his hand. "I wouldn't have been able to resurrect you if it wasn't what I wanted the

most. I could have dragged you all the way to the surface and knocked on the door until my fingers broke, but it never would

have opened. It is alchemically impossible for me to love you less than Hong, because you're here."

Wenshu's lip twitched with the ghost of a smile. "You're using science to prove your point now?"

"Is it working?"

Wenshu let out a stiff laugh. The sadness had smoothed out of his features, but he still looked distant.

"You have been with me all my life," I whispered. "I can't imagine a world where you don't exist. I don't want to live in

that world."

"Really?" Wenshu whispered, the most delicate word I had ever heard him say. My heart broke for how uncertain he sounded, like he truly feared my answer.

"Yes," I said. "Promise me that I'll never have to live that way again."

At once, he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me, crushing me against his chest. That was how I knew,

in a way words could never express, that he understood.

"I won't leave you," he said. "Not for anything."

I laughed, hugging him tighter. "You've already died on me twice."

"Well, nobody's perfect," he said. "And one of those times was arguably your fault."

I pulled back and smacked his shoulder.

"You're starting to take after Yufei," he said, grimacing and massaging his arm.

"What about me?"

We both turned to Yufei, who had stuck her head through the door.

"Nothing, just that you're unreasonably strong," Wenshu said, turning to her.

"Thanks," she said, shrugging. "Come on, if you want to be out of here before Gaozong comes, we have to go."

Wenshu nodded, casting me a glance over his shoulder.

"Etiquette lessons," he reminded me. "Next week, all right?"

"Yes, Gēgē," I said, smiling in a way that I hoped looked convincing.

"Go destroy her," Yufei said from the doorway.

"Yes, Jiějiě."

Then they both turned, and the door swung shut, leaving the room in cold shadows and silence. This part I would have to face alone, at least at first. Zheng Sili would be waiting in case I needed help, while Yufei would stay with Wenshu to protect him.

I leaned back against the seat of the throne, imagining how the Empress might have sat. Slowly, I uncrossed my legs, planting

my feet firmly on the ground, resting my forearms on the gilded armrests, the cold making me shiver.

Come on out, Gaozong , I thought. I'm ready.

The sun fell lower in the sky, the angle sharp through the windows, the light too bright to look at from where I sat. Still

I didn't move, squinting through the blades of sunlight until at last, the door opened once more.

I remembered Gaozong's face from the memories I'd borrowed when drowning in his river, and seeing him now felt like my dreams

had come to life. He and Wu Zhao had stood on the very same balcony just across the room—when he was young enough that he

looked almost exactly like Hong—and he'd promised her the world. Now he was trying to deliver on his promise.

I could still see the echoes of his century-long sickness in his papery complexion, the darkness around his eyes. But despite

the signs of age, they still held the dangerous gleam that I'd seen in Taizong's vision, when he'd slipped the ring from his

dying father's hand.

He hesitated in the doorway, looking me up and down.

"It is customary to bow to the emperor, you know," he said, a soft smile at the corner of his lips. His eyes were so kind,

so like Hong's, that it would have been easy to trust him if I hadn't known better.

"There is no emperor here," I said, crossing my legs. "And I already held your funeral."

He let out a sharp laugh, stepping fully into the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

"I suppose that, technically, I should be the one bowing to you ," he said. "Imagine that."

"Stranger things have happened in this palace than a merchant girl sitting on a throne," I said.

He smiled. "Oh, I can see why she likes you," he said. He stepped forward, examining me. A chill rippled through my bones,

and I tried my best to remain still, to not give away my fear, even when I felt like a piece of merchandise he was appraising.

After all, he was imagining the body of his future wife.

I examined the alchemy rings on his hand, bright blue diamonds, jade bands, purple amethyst. It was a diverse array, a good—albeit

needlessly expensive—assortment. He clearly was no amateur alchemist.

"I suppose you'll do," he said at last, crossing his arms. "You're no Wu Zhao, but then again, no one is."

I barely resisted the urge to slap him. "I was your son's concubine," I said. "Do you not see how strange that is?"

He shrugged. "Wu Zhao was my father's concubine first."

My expression crumpled. "And people think my family is weird."

"Your family certainly is remarkable," he said, leaning forward and cupping my cheek, running a calloused thumb across my

lips. "Peasants do not normally live such loud lives."

"For the thousandth time, I'm not a peasant," I said, turning my face away.

"You're not anything anymore," Gaozong said, his eyes darkening. He reached for his satchel of alchemy stones, and I pressed

back against the throne, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

"Why did she fake your death?" I said. "Am I at least allowed to know that before I die?"

"She didn't," he said, eyeing my throat. "There are herbs that can slow breathing and pulse, mimicking death for a time,"

he said. "A physician was loyal to me and helped me escape."

"And yet you returned to her after she kept you ill for over a century?" I said.

Instead of answering, he knelt down before me, the gesture so sudden that I flinched. The Emperor of China was on his knees in front of me. I was so stunned that when he reached out a hand for my arm, I extended it to him without question. Gently, reverently, he

rolled up my sleeve, examining the soul tag that I'd carved in this very room. Fan Zilan.

"It is difficult to stop loving someone, even if they hurt you," he said quietly, the gentle words breathed across the pale

skin of my wrist.

"She killed all your children."

He sighed. "I don't expect you to understand," he said, his thumb rubbing softly across my scar. "Royalty survives because

we love our kingdom above all else. My father killed his brothers to become emperor, and in turn, he was the best ruler our

country has ever seen. None of our hands are clean. A clear conscience is a privilege of people who do not have power. If

you have a soft heart, you lose everything, and the country falls to someone far worse than you."

" She killed all your children ," I said again.

Gaozong shook his head, drawing a blade from his pocket. "If your plan was to talk me out of this, it won't work."

"And what will she do with you when she's empress?" I said, leaning away from the crisp gleam of his knife in the sunlight. "She already tried to dispose of you once."

"That was when I wasn't useful to her," he said. "I can hardly blame her for that."

He held my wrist, his grip suddenly bone-crushing. "Here is what you must understand, Fan Zilan. You can stand beside greatness,

or you can be crushed beneath it. We have both made our choices, and we will live—or die—by them."

Then he sank the knife into my skin.

I flinched, reflexively trying to pull away, but he held me tight as, stroke by stroke, he carved Wu Zhao into my right arm, a fresh crimson mark compared to the wrinkled purple scar of my own name on the other arm. Blood ran down

the armrest of the throne, pooling on the floor.

"Thank you for looking after Hong," Gaozong said quietly, releasing my wrist. He grabbed my other arm, the one that said Fan Zilan . "Please give him my regards."

Before I could answer, he drew a clean line straight through my soul tag.

I tensed, fists clenching, toes curling, jaw clenched. I went limp in the chair, breathing shallowly, gaze locked on the ceiling.

That was what was supposed to happen when you damaged someone's soul tag.

That was what Gaozong, who had performed so many thousands of resurrections, would expect to see.

That was what would have happened, if he'd actually cut through my soul tag.

But there was another, carved cleanly between my shoulder blades, courtesy of Wenshu, activated by Zheng Sili that morning.

I stayed still and limp while I heard Gaozong shuffling through a bag of stones. I didn't even flinch when he pressed a warm,

disgusting kiss to my parted lips.

"We're almost there, darling," he whispered. Then he pressed three stones to the new soul tag, and my whole body filled with light.

Both soul tags flared up in white-hot agony, the new one on my left wrist glowing as if my blood was full of light. My vision

fractured, one eye fixed on the dark rushing river, the other staring back at Gaozong's expectant face.

Stay grounded , I thought, clenching my teeth against the burn. I folded forward, and Gaozong caught me, lowering me to the floor with reverence.

The new name on my wrist burned brighter, and my bones seized up, joints locked tight. Deep in the labyrinth of my mind, someone

was pounding their fist against a door, and it took all of my strength to keep it shut.

I hadn't known exactly how this part of my plan would unfold. Wenshu had described the sensation of sharing a body as trying to peel off your own face , though I suspected the Empress's soul would be much harder to extract from a body than Hong's.

I had once clung to my body with no soul tag at all, fought for it with all my strength. It was too tall and wiry and looked

not enough like my siblings, but it was my body, not a puppet for the Empress to possess.

I opened my eyes, and I was standing on the river, the Empress on the other side, the scarlet current rushing between us,

sparks of blood splashing into the air. She met my gaze, her eyes filled with so much raw hate that it scorched me to the

bone.

Then the Empress was behind me, one hand yanking my hair, the other hand clawing at my face, trying to unpeel me like a fruit.

Sharp nails caught on my lips, cold fingers in my mouth, rings clinking across my teeth.

Get out.

The words hummed through my bones, a chill that made all my muscles seize up in agony. I caught a flash of Gaozong's concerned gaze, then there was only darkness and mud, silt and bones between my teeth, the Empress's hand on the nape of my neck.

I threw a hand back and raked my nails across the Empress's face, leaving three red scratches across her skin, smearing her

lipstick down one half of her face like a lopsided snarl.

I turned my head to the sky and tried to trace the characters for my own name into the air, to cling to nothing else but that.

I am Fan Zilan , I thought, again and again and again.

I was the merchant girl from Guangzhou, the girl who lived on the road of pig's blood, covered in clay dust, the flower who

was meant to die in winter. I was the sister of Fan Wenshu and Fan Yufei, the daughter of a great alchemist from the west,

brash and uneducated and sharp.

I was the girl who forced her way into the palace even when no one believed that I could.

Men were golden thread around my fingers, lies like poetry, bloodstains and screams and gold. And there was Gaozong, taking

my hand and looking out over our city, my city, my kingdom.

I tensed up and realized the Empress had pressed me up against a tree, her hand at my throat. Those aren't my memories , I thought. Our minds were melting into each other.

A blunt pain hammered through my skull, and through my skewed vision, I caught a glimpse of Gaozong on the floor of the throne

room, Zheng Sili looming over him.

I need to hold on until Zheng Sili can kill Gaozong , I reminded myself. This was my only job—to occupy the Empress while Wenshu and Yufei did their job outside, and Zheng Sili

took care of Gaozong. If I failed, all of them would die.

I am Fan Zilan , I thought, but the words came quieter now, the Empress's hand choking the breath out of me, her hands like solid gold.

It was bright summer, and I was gathering mud to make clay back in Guangzhou, throwing a handful at Wenshu.

I was wrapped in white, a discarded concubine praying in a convent, waiting for greatness to find me once more.

I was studying by moonlight, my sister offering me a bite of cucumber while I traced my fingers over my father's notes in

a language long lost to me, the embers of a dream slowly glowing brighter.

I am...

My thoughts reached out, drowning hands clawing for shore, but the name slid through my fingers and turned to mist.

I was alone in darkness among sweaty blankets and blood, clutching my newborn daughter too tightly against my chest, weighing

my dreams against my own heart.

I wanted more .

The men who had underestimated me, used me and thrown me away—all of them would suffer. They could rot in dungeons, grow like

mildew into its wet stones, dissolve into darkness. Because I had earned this title, this dream, this life.

I am the Empress.

I let out a breath, the tension leaving my muscles like a cool wave sighing over my whole body.

I opened my eyes, and I was sitting on my throne, watching as my husband dispatched the commoner. He had the boy pressed down against the ground by the throat, three stones crushed against his chest. The stones dissolved in a blaze of red light—alchemy could truly be beautiful beyond measure—and the boy's eyes went wide. He coughed and sprayed blood across Gaozong, tiny pearls of it splattering against my dress.

But I didn't mind at all. Red was my favorite color.

"You have to destroy his body completely, or some worm will find a way to bring him back," I said. That was all that alchemists

were—wet bugs crawling through dirt, refusing to die.

Gaozong looked at me with those round, helpless eyes that told me I would have to do everything myself, like always.

"Do I need to be clearer?" I said. "Cut his head off."

Gaozong frowned. "But I'm out of firestones."

I rolled my eyes. Alchemists were truly spoiled with their power. Gaozong wouldn't know how to wash his own feet without alchemy.

"Then find something sharp."

He stood up and bowed, hurrying out of the room. He always obeyed my direct orders, which was desirable to an extent, though

for once I wished he'd have a single intelligent thought of his own.

Like my favorite alchemist.

I looked down at her hands—my hands—caked in dirt, crooked and split nails that I would need to have Gaozong fix later. I

ran a hand through my coppery hair, grimacing at the dirt and blood tangled in it. At least my dress was silk, but travel

had dulled the vibrant red to a muddy brown. The girl was too wiry, her edges as sharp and gangly as a newborn deer, though

I supposed that was the inevitable consequence of growing up on a peasant's diet. I'd taken worse bodies before, and there

was little I couldn't fix with time.

I looked in the mirror, and a sudden wave of sadness rushed through me.

After all this time, she was gone.

The thought should have elated me. In only weeks, she'd unmade everything I'd spent a century building. She was a needle slipped under my nail, a relentless annoyance.

But how long had it been since anyone so interesting had crossed my path?

Eternal youth had seemed so promising at first. Rulers fell because they grew old and weak, but I was neither, and my reign

would last forever.

But after a century, all the colors in the world had begun to look dimmer. A sunset was a sunset, each as dull as the one

before. I could no longer taste food, barely registering sensations of cold and hot on my skin. When I read, the words blurred

together into a swirl of ink because I hardly cared for them at all. I'd begun to wonder what the point of living forever

was if the life I had finally won was truly so dull.

Until she arrived.

From the moment I saw her, I despised her. She fought like a rabid wolf, gnashing teeth and foaming spit and blood and hate

that burned fire-bright in her eyes. What right did a peasant girl have to that kind of blazing fire, but not me?

I supposed, in a way, she would always be with me now.

I ran a delicate hand down my face in the mirror, fingers ghosting over my split lip. But even wearing her face, somehow I

didn't look like her at all.

Her eyes had burned like summer stars, but my own eyes looked flat and empty without the blaze of life gold igniting them.

The doors opened, and Gaozong returned with a sword hefted over his shoulder.

"Execution's about to start," he said. "You could probably still get a good view."

I grinned, feeling a spark of warmth inside me for the first time in a very long time. I clung to it, let it fill my chest. "I love a good execution."

"I know you do," Gaozong said, leaning forward as if to kiss me over the scholar boy's body, but I turned my head, and his

wet lips grazed my jawline.

"Don't kiss me until you finish what you started," I said. Then I turned and strode from the room. It wasn't every day you

got to witness your son's execution. This was the last step, and everything would be mine at last.

I strode out to the balcony, where the crowd was gathered far below, their nervous murmurs like a drug. I loved the taste

of anticipation, of fear.

Hong was standing on the lower balcony, tense and fidgeting like always, a gleam of nervous sweat on his brow. He shifted

and said something to a person in the doorway, adjusting something tucked under his arm. As he turned, I could make out the

shape of a scroll.

I frowned. All the excitement I'd felt moments ago pooled hot in my feet.

Something was wrong.

What purpose was there to bring a scroll to his own execution? Traitors did not give speeches. They did not get final words,

not in my kingdom. His hands should have been bound, not holding a scroll. What did he think he was doing?

He unfurled the scroll, the sun bright across the words at the top.

I squinted and read the title once, then twice, and as I slowly began to understand their meaning, I felt as if a sudden darkness

had eclipsed the bright courtyard.

In a flash, I shoved away from the window and rushed down the stairs. Gaozong was busy throwing the alchemist boy's body out the window, but I shoved him aside and yanked the sword from his belt. He let out a sound of surprise.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but I was already running for the lower level. The sword was too heavy for me and pulled at my shoulder

as I hauled it alongside me, but I couldn't trust Gaozong to do anything right. He'd said that they'd prepared for the execution,

that the announcement had been made, that everything was in place. But there was no one competent in this palace. No one but

me.

And, apparently, Scarlet.

I let out a sharp laugh as I turned the corner. As always, she was keeping things interesting.

I ran through the main hall, toward the front balcony where I'd seen Hong.

The title at the top of his scroll ran again and again through my mind on an endless loop, the words burned into my vision.

With a single document, they were trying to strip me of all the years of work Gaozong and I had put into folding this country

into the palm of my hand. I hated that they even had that kind of power, but sadly, the rules of alchemy could not be bent,

not even for me.

And how well it would have worked, if only their little sister had won. They thought they would end me with a few words, but

this was what would happen instead:

The whole country would witness the Scarlet Alchemist executing her own husband before the words could leave his mouth. They

called me Scarlet for a reason, after all. I looked beautiful drenched in blood.

Hong would fall before the kingdom he never wanted, and at last, I would win. I was the Empress, a title I had earned at the cost of absolutely everything, and a peasant girl would not take that away from me.

I am the Empress , I thought, approaching the doors, my sword clutched tight in my right hand. It was so much heavier than I'd expected, but

I wouldn't let go of it for all the world.

I am the Empress.

The thought repeated, a battle cry that reverberated through my bones. I reached for the door handle, but my hand slipped

away, fingers grasping at empty air as if the earth had tilted off its axis. Suddenly there were two door handles, one of

them a trick of light. My vision doubled, bright diamonds of sunlight searing through the windows.

I am the Empress.

And I realized, too late, that the thought was not my own.

I fell to the marble floor and crashed straight through it into mud.

And there was Fan Zilan standing over me, backlit by a sky that used to be gray but now was gorgeous crimson, spilled blood

and rage. I grappled for Gaozong's sword, but my hands were empty.

She clutched the blade in both hands, unwavering as she pressed the tip to my throat.

" I am the Empress," she said, this time in her own voice, her eyes a gorgeous fire of red and gold.

Despite everything, as the blade rose, I felt a smile curl my lips.

I was not the kind of person who died.

I was not the kind of person who failed.

I did not lie in the mud at anyone's feet, especially not a merchant's daughter named after a worthless flower.

But if I had to end, and there was only one thing I could see at the end of my long life, this was what I would choose:

A girl who burned like a comet across the sky, who thought the world could be hers, as I once did.

Until next time, Scarlet , I thought, as she struck down and tore the world in two.