YUN RONG XIAN (雲榮羡)

  Day 29, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  I hadn’t expected to see her of all people.

  Almost as quickly as An Lingqi had left, she returned, this time through the front gate, half-dragging the bloodied body of Su Tang. Jiang Feng followed at her heels with another unconscious girl slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

  Amethyst eyes—silver-veined, wet with unspoken pain—met mine. She blinked, slow and deliberate. A silent plea.

  Please don’t ask, Your Highness.

  I won’t. I simply nodded and stepped forward.

  Su Tang’s head lolled, her eyes fluttering to the ornate walls of my study, as though something about the space disturbed her.

  Jiang Feng dropped to one knee, still bearing the body over his shoulder. “Your Highness,” he said. “We found them at the Blossom Deity’s residence. The place was destroyed. I…” His gaze slid toward An Lingqi. “I thought it safest to bring them here. Please forgive me for acting without instruction. But do not blame An Lingqi.”

  The apology was reflexive, meaningless. People always assumed the worst of me. But that was how I survived. And that was why I was the Crown Prince.

  I raised a hand. “Bring them to the west wing.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Jiang Feng said. Yet he hesitated.

  Jiang Feng never withheld information. “Is there something you would like to report?”

  He gave An Lingqi another glance. Though she wore a placid expression, I could see she had closed off. He lowered his head.

  “No, Your Highness,” he said. “That is all.”

  A lie. He signalled with the faint twitch of two fingers: I will speak later.

  And people wondered why I trusted no one. Even my most loyal guard was willing to withhold the truth in the presence of a beautiful woman. I doubted she had even offered him anything in exchange—no promise, no coin, no word. He simply yielded.

  Wine. Women. Wealth. The three most seductive poisons the world offers. And An Lingqi was the embodiment of the second.

  He rose and gestured to her. She adjusted her grip on Su Tang, preparing to depart.

  I spoke before they could reach the door.

  “Were they looking for something?”

  An Lingqi paused mid-stride. Her feet came together. Not hesitating, not afraid, but to bide her time. To consider what version of the truth would serve her best.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “But they didn’t find it.”

  A careful answer. An invitation to press further. A test.

  But I knew better than to ask questions when her answers would be lies. The truth always left a trace—on fabric, on skin, in silence.

  Details betrayed more than words.

  The blood soaking through Su Tang’s gown, pooling at her abdomen. Her hand, small and trembling, tried half-heartedly to conceal it. Thin white lines streaked her cheek. Bruising, deep and deliberate, wrapped her throat like fingers frozen mid-squeeze. She should not have been conscious. And yet, she was.

  Barely.

  The girl draped over Jiang Feng’s shoulder wore the same uniform, though hers was less torn, less burned. They had been together. But Su Tang had taken the brunt of it.

  Beside each other, An Lingqi and Su Tang had a comparable physique: slim, long-haired, heart-shaped faces. In the dark, from a distance, one could easily mistake one for the other.

  An Lingqi adjusted Su Tang’s arm again. The girl winced, and An Lingqi froze. Leaned in. Whispered something too soft to catch.

  Su Tang managed a faint smile.

  I had never seen An Lingqi display that level of care for anyone beyond her professional obligations. With Su Tang, she was almost...reverent. As though the girl were made of glass.

  She whispered again. This time, I read her lips: I’m sorry.

  Sorry for what? That could apply to a hundred sins.

  But the words she and Jiang Feng had said earlier were the true giveaways.

  The place was destroyed.

  They didn’t find it.

  Su Tang may have infuriated a great deal of people, but she was not a dangerous enough target for someone to have to send another to deal with her. Su Tang was a member of the royal staff; one order from any official and she would be easily executed.

  So, they weren’t after her.

  They mistook her for someone else.

  In the dark, it would be easy to mistake her for An Lingqi.

  The two of them turned the corner.

  Jiang Feng remained. He approached the threshold and reached into his sleeve.

  “Your Highness, I also found this.” He handed me a torn scrap of cloth, black and stiff with dried blood. “I didn’t show you earlier. I didn’t want An Lingqi to know.”

  To protect her feelings? Or preserve her illusion of control?

  She already knew. Her silence and dimmed expression spoke volumes. She had known the moment Jiang Feng followed her back the truth would come to light.

  She simply hadn’t tried to stop the inevitable.

  He believed he was protecting both her and me. But the game was already in motion. He was simply playing his part, like the rest of us.

  I slipped the cloth into my pocket without a word.

  And watched the door as it closed behind them.

  ***

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  Su Tang sat on the bed. There was no dignity in her posture, no elegance—only stillness, which made her presence feel unnatural. Her silence was not the peaceful kind. It was the kind that unsettled.

  When I sent her away, I’d thought I could test two theories.

  Firstly, whether or not she’d grab the chance to be free—instead, she only buried herself deeper into the schemes of the court.

  Secondly, whether or not she was related to Lady Ze—I asked Jiang Feng to arrange her to be the Lady’s tea-servant. The verdict revealed that Lady Ze seemed greatly interested in Su Tang, though Su Tang didn’t. Su Tang was just playing along with the crazy lady. Holding the role as a loyal servant.

  Disappointing results.

  I tore my gaze away.

  An Lingqi crouched beside her. One hand buried in her medical kit, the other resting lightly on the mattress. Her face was carefully blank. She was masking something. She always was.

  Su Tang’s eyes fluttered open. Her skin was bloodless, her face an unreadable canvas. She reached for An Lingqi’s hand and offered a small smile, rehearsed reassurance. It was a gesture she deployed when she wanted people to stop asking questions.

  An Lingqi squeezed her hand and stood. “Lay Xue Wan’er in the next chamber,” she said. Jiang Feng obeyed too easily.

  They crossed the room, leaving me with Su Tang.

  She blinked slowly, as though staying conscious required active effort. Her pallor gave prominence to the shadows under her eyes. Clean white bandages peeked from beneath her ruined gown—stark against the grime. Her hair, coming undone from its braid, made her appear younger. More honest. More human.

  Su Tang seemed to acknowledge my presence as she dipped her head toward me in greeting. But the movement didn’t stop. Her body kept collapsing forward.

  Instinct moved faster than thought. I stepped in, catching her shoulders, pushing her upright. Her sharp shoulders poked from underneath her hànfú. How fragile she felt beneath my hands. I had only held her once before, after Zhao Lili’s beating. It was also then that I discovered how small she was.

  Her eyes opened wide. She tried to compose herself, lips compressed and throat working. Then, quietly: “Your Highness, if you dislike me being here, I will leave. I don’t want—I would not dare to trouble Your Highness.”

  Unprompted resignation.

  Her words settled in the space between us, sharp and silent. Not because they were dramatic, but because they were precise. I had heard these words before; they lived in a part of my mind I often suppressed. In the nights when I questioned everything I’d done to be the Crown Prince.

  Dislike me.

  Leave.

  Dare to trouble.

  We stared at each other. I suspected not with the intensity and desire of love, but with mutual detachment. Close enough to be intimate, too far to be comfortable.

  She knew exactly where to cut.

  She—who’d been forced to play the game—now played it with ease. What happened to you?

  The silence broke.

  Not by words, but by sound.

  A wet, raw, and unrelenting cough.

  She curled over herself, hands over her mouth. But the action did nothing to muffle the horrible sound coming from within. I reached for a handkerchief in my pocket and found only the charred scrap from the assassin’s clothes.

  Su Tang made another throat-scratching sound. The kind of gurgling fallen soldiers made just before they would never rise again.

  Instinctively, I sat beside her, propped her against my chest, and repositioned her into a sitting position. Then, with practiced efficiency, I drew the needles from my sleeve and punctured three meridian points along her spine.

  She coughed once more, then raised her head. Her hands opened, revealing a dark, coagulated clot.

  Blood like that didn’t belong to surface injuries.

  How many more lingered within her body?

  I’d suspected she was sick, but every time her sickness was accidentally exposed, she refused to dwell on it.

  She swayed again, slumping forward. I caught her as An Lingqi re-entered the room.

  The Blossom Deity paused. She looked at Su Tang, then at me. Not for guidance, but to calculate how much I already knew.

  So, she knew about the sickness.

  I eased Su Tang to lie down and rose to meet the Blossom Deity. I passed my hand across Su Tang’s temple as I moved away.

  I nodded at Jiang Feng and his sword unsheathed with a low hiss.

  An Lingqi’s gaze flicked toward the sound. No panic. Just understanding. Even now, she was managing the information she gave and withheld. Today, I want the truth.

  Her eyes settled on mine.

  Threatening me? I expected more from you.

  I raised my chin.

  We stood across from each other—two tacticians masked in civility. I crossed my arms.

  “Xue Wan’er is awake,” she said, as if it were an ordinary day.

  Clever move to reframe the conversation before it can start.

  “If only you could say the same for your friend,” I replied. I too can control the conversation.

  “I’m surprised by Your Highness’ concern.” Don’t think you can make me talk about Su Tang.

  “She is part of my staff,” I mused.

  “Was,” she corrected.

  I tapped my fingers along my forearm. A meaningless gesture to most. A signal to Jiang Feng. He adjusted his grip on the sword.

  You’re stubborn, An Lingqi. But I’m patient.

  “I know who she is.”

  An Lingqi blinked. The first crack in her mask. Small, but present. The Blossom Deity only ever lost her charm around Su Tang. That would be the key to getting her to talk.

  She recovered her surprise. “Yes, she’s well-known at the Imperial Alchemist Guild.”

  “Of course. But as an alchemist from Shuishang or something else?” She avoided my eyes. “She’s the one who bloomed báilián on the Emperor’s birthday.”

  Her tone cooled. “Really?”

  Her flat tone could’ve fooled. But her control slipped just enough to confirm my suspicion. She was pretending and lying.

  “Feigning ignorance won’t help.”

  If I can uncover that, a certain someone with eyes of red and hair of ebony can too. And they would not be forgiving.

  She held my gaze. “Your Highness, I fail to see how I am being ignorant. Please enlighten me.” So what?

  “Do you care about her life?”

  She raised her eyebrows. I clenched my fist.

  That was a silly thing to say aloud.

  She eased her stance and focussed on her shoes. “I do, Your Highness.” She spoke with a small voice, then looked up.

  We held each other in a long, silent dialogue.

  Tell me the truth.

  I can’t. I won’t.

  You know me and what I am capable of.

  I do.

  Then you will believe me when I say I will find out the truth even if you don’t speak now.

  Of course.

  How far will you go for Su Tang, An Lingqi?

  She blinked at me again and raised a steely gaze. Her knuckles whiten to the pallor of bone.

  I nodded at her. So be it.

  I strode past her intending on leaving the room. “She can remain here until further notice. You may show yourself out.”

  I was nearly through the doorway when she called, “Yun Rongxian.”

  Deliberately saying my name.

  She probably wanted to throw me off.

  But I had baited her response. I knew there was no way she would allow me to withhold Su Tang. She would want to take Su Tang back.

  An Lingqi furrowed her eyebrows.

  “You would’ve noticed earlier,” she said. “When you held her.”

  Yes. She was cold. Her hands were always cold; even at the time I helped her stand after she fell over when she snooped in my study.

  Her eyes drifted towards Su Tang. “She is ill.”

  There were few illnesses which could chronically plague an Immortal. Since she entered my service, I noticed her health deteriorate. Slowly, but surely.

  Cold, cold hands.

  I inclined my head, allowing myself to relive the memories. They weren’t just cold hands. It was the thing behind them. An ancient and foreboding presence. Even my immortal flesh recoiled at the touch.

  A Seal. Only a seal can do that.

  Such power hadn’t been used since the Lian Dynasty.

  If Su Tang had one…

  An Lingqi knew more than she claimed. That much was clear.

  The cough. The blood. The blackened veins. Su Tang’s pale face and too thin frame—which could be mistaken for a girl trying to fit beauty ideals—matched the profile of a victim of a parasite.

  “She is very ill,” she repeated. “No one knows.”

  Her warning. No one knew and no one cared, and they both intended to keep it that way. Because that would be best.

  But An Lingqi was wrong.