SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 15, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  “You did what?”

  Chun Li dumped the herb jar onto the table with enough force to startle the ghosts of long-dead alchemists. I flinched, instinctively tensing like she’d just flung the thing at my head. Then I squinted down and resumed reading, like a coward with her priorities straight.

  She moved before me and slammed the book shut.

  “What on earth did you do, Su Tang?”

  Apparently, discretion wasn’t one of my natural talents. After letting a few unplanned anecdotes from my first day spill out, I had officially nominated Silence as my closest companion. I widened my eyes in faux innocence.

  “What did I say?”

  Chun Li muttered something unflattering under her breath and flicked her wrist. With one sharp motion, she straightened her robes like a woman who had just argued with a wall and lost. Then she turned and glided toward the herb pantry, her long white plaits swinging in silent outrage. I waited for her silhouette to vanish behind the doorframe before casually switching books.

  This was what I had come for: Art and Forms of the Liantai Sect. A forbidden classic. Ju Ying would’ve fainted if she knew it still existed, let alone that I was reading it.

  The Liantai Sect—infamous for their unorthodox ways and erased from official records. It was one thing that nobody seemed to be able to give me a clear answer about. The collective apathy was infuriating. No sect in history vanishes for no reason.

  "You might want to start with this book before you dig into that one," came Chun Li’s voice, smooth as silk and just as sudden. She reappeared without warning, holding a massive tome that looked like it could double as a blunt-force weapon.

  Normally I’d feel guilty getting caught with unauthorised materials, but her smirk made me feel like I was being invited into a secret club.

  I returned the smile and accepted the new book: The Complete History of the Lian Dynasty. Dusty, dry, and heavier than my childhood guilt. But it was a book. I flipped through the contents.

  Pointless author’s note. Publisher. Compiler’s longwinded preface. Something about a rice tax. A family tree.

  Ooh—so interesting.

  Not.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Chun Li sank into the seat beside me, letting out a sigh so melodramatic it could’ve been scored by a string quartet. I knew she vied for my attention, and I couldn’t help but give in.

  “Hey, um…” I hesitated. What was she, anyway? Not quite a friend. Not quite a master. Somewhere between irritated older cousin and librarian with a grudge.

  “xiānshēng,” she offered helpfully.

  Right. I’m not saying that. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No,” she said, tilting her chin at the book in my hands.

  I stared helplessly at the script. The Old Language was a twisting, metaphor-heavy nightmare I had yet to fully conquer. Fortunately, as an Immortal born into Yuyan Sect, Chun Li had the supernatural aptitude for translation.

  If only she’d help me.

  My eyes drifted to a shallow bowl beside her. Half-melted alchemy pills sat like burnt dumplings, their surfaces cracked and dull.

  She caught me looking and shoved the bowl toward me. “But if you can tell me what I’m doing wrong, and why these stupid pills refuse to hold form, maybe I’ll think about helping.”

  Fair trade.

  I picked up a pill and held it to the light. The uneven coat, brittle texture, and faint sour smell made it obvious: overheated core temperature. No stabiliser. She was refining too hot, probably out of impatience.

  “Have you tried corpse seaweed?” I asked.

  “Yes. Probably. I don’t know,” she muttered.

  I blinked. “You’re the Head Alchemist of this entire Guild, and you don’t know?”

  “You don’t get to judge. You’re the one who almost detonated the examination hall in the middle of your entrance test.”

  I let the insult slide. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. That just meant wasting more of my precious time when I could be reading.

  I dropped the pill back into the bowl. “Use an orange flame. Add corpse seaweed. Be patient.”

  She took the bowl back and studied me. I had returned to my reading position: arms folded like a pillow and forehead pressed into the fabric.

  A long breath escaped her. “I wanted you to…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”

  The softness in her tone made me pause.

  Was I being too impatient? Maybe. But I really just wanted people to stop wasting my time. I hadn’t come close to finding out what kind of seal was in my body…and that deadline was nearing.

  Still, I adjusted my posture to sit up straighter.

  Without another word, Chun Li opened the family tree and waved her hand over the page. The ink shimmered, and the ancient script reshaped into something legible.

  “You can see it starts with the original ancestors and traces down through the Lian line.”

  I nodded, only half-interested. This wasn’t the page I wanted her to translate. I had hoped her magic could sift and categorise information as easily as it could decipher it.

  I guess I still have to do the leg work.

  “Su Tang,” she said.

  I followed her gesture with my eyes. I got up on my palms.

  “Are family trees meant to look like…that?”

  At the bottom of the tree, four names had been crossed out—no, not crossed. Marked. Each descendant was stamped with a vivid red crucifix in place of a name. The ink had been pressed hard into the parchment, as though whoever had done it wanted to leave a scar.

  Nameless heirs. Erased lineage.

  Something cold crawled up the base of my neck.