SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 16, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  Lady Zhao stormed off the moment we exited the Empress’ Hall. After her dramatic display and humiliating shriek-fest, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. If I had publicly flung myself onto cold tiles and made unintelligible noises in front of the entire imperial court, I too would scurry away.

  I wandered toward the nearest staircase and, flopped onto the first step. I regretted it immediately. Pain shot up my spine like a crack of lightning. It had only been twenty strokes.

  A quaint little reminder of imperial etiquette.

  Of what had happened.

  I held my face in my hands, letting the residual adrenaline dissolve into a puddle of exhaustion. The fog of the morning had cleared, and now the memories pounced.

  Everything had been my fault.

  How I wished that I could run away from myself now.

  I tried, stupidly, to straighten my back. Tried to remember some distant lesson about holding composure in the face of shame.

  They are dead. Dead because of your smart mouth. Dead because of you thought you had the power to punish Lady Zhao.

  The words circled in my skull like carrion birds. A mantra of guilt, growing louder, heavier, uglier. The image of that furnace bloomed behind my eyes again: heat in my lungs, ash in my mouth, the smell of burning flesh laced with sandalwood and rot.

  I exhaled and folded forward, hands braced on my knees, trembling. All the careful distance I’d kept, the dry wit and cynicism, the analysis and the strategy…all of it was crumbling away.

  I just didn’t think. In Huadu Sect, we had ranks. But beyond that, everything else was fair game. We were free to speak. Free to snark. Free to challenge each other without consequence.

  I should’ve known Taishan was different.

  I had been spoiled.

  Number three. Power is a risky drug. But in a world where mercy is mistaken for weakness, it’s the only thing that makes people listen. The only thing that makes them kneel.

  At some point, I got up and staggered back to the Crown Prince’s residence. There was still work to be done. And fewer hands to do it, seeing that Zhao Lili exterminated most of them.

  Gosh, I wish I could escape my head.

  “Miss Su, His Highness requests your presence,” came the voice of Jiang Feng, the Crown Prince’s personal blade in human form.

  I very nearly told him where to shove that request. But I didn’t. I looked up instead. His bow was slung across his back like a quiet threat and his fingers twitched like they were itching to pull the string. Waiting for me to slip. To lash out. To be human.

  Number one. Truth is irrelevant. Theatrics are everything.

  I gave him nothing.

  “Of course,” I said evenly. “Please lead the way.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  When I stepped into the study, the Crown Prince was already waiting with that expressionless mask again. What was it today? Annoyance? Displeasure? Curiosity, maybe? I’d long stopped guessing. He had the best poker face I’d ever seen; smooth, polished, and absolutely infuriating.

  From the first moment I met him in the library, on that fateful night, he had exuded a kind of studied emptiness. Too quiet, too still. Was it his height? His crisp robes? That perfect, emotionless voice? Or was it the way he walked like he had no use for sound, his footsteps swallowed by the marble beneath him?

  I dropped to my knees and touched my forehead to the cold stone as the expected gesture of respect. And to avoid looking at his maddeningly blank face.

  “What was my second rule?” he asked.

  I matched his tone: “Do not bring Your Highness trouble.”

  His steps echoed softly until they stopped in front of me. His shoes were pristine white. The kind of cleanliness one would expect from someone with his status.

  “Go,” he said. “Receive your punishment from Jiang Feng.”

  Was that it? Perhaps he is easier to read than his mother.

  I supposed I should have expected this. The Empress might’ve hidden her blades behind sweet words, but her son? He didn’t need to bother with such courtesies. I was his personal servant. I had caused trouble. Now I was to be punished. Like a bad dog.

  But something didn’t sit right. My thoughts reversed.

  Punishment? For defending the Crown Prince? For protecting his reputation? I had been playing his game. Was that not the entire point of this wretched theatre?

  Still kneeling, I said nothing.

  “Did you not hear His Highness’ command?” Jiang Feng snapped, his boots slamming against the floor as he approached. He was loud. Predictable. Dangerous.

  I glanced up at the Crown Prince’s face. It wasn’t angry. Nor satisfied. Nor even annoyed. Just…calm.

  I hated that more than anything.

  What do you want, Your Highness?

  Eventually, he said, “Stubbornness is not a virtue.”

  A moral lesson? How imperial.

  “Neither is injustice,” I replied before I could stop myself—finishing the poem couplet like it belonged to me.

  His face didn’t change. But something passed through his eyes. A flicker. Recognition? Surprise? No. Just…stillness.

  “Why, you disobedient little girl!” Jiang Feng now shouted. He may have been a top martial artist like his master, but clearly, the Crown Prince’s literary talent and meticulous nature was not something Jiang Feng possessed.

  Still, I didn’t look away from the Crown Prince. Neither did he.

  Then came the scrape of steel.

  I closed my eyes.

  So, this was it. Maybe I’d misinterpreted the whole situation. Again. Maybe he wasn’t actually calm. Maybe he was genuinely furious. And this, finally, was the last straw: me, arrogantly mouthing off like I always did.

  Come to think of it, it wasn’t a bad way to go out. A clean end. Swift and mostly painless. I could count that as penance for the servants who burned because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  At least I could atone for my guilt: the death of all those servants because of my glib tongue.

  And really, it wasn’t like I had much time left anyway.

  I thought of the grey line inked along my arm, smeared like an ugly birthmark. A few more months, and those Seals within me would’ve finish me off. Slowly and cruelly.

  This would be easier.

  CLAcK! clANg! CLunK! clig-clig-clig-clig…

  The sound of metal slamming against stone shattered the room. I opened my eyes instinctively.

  Jiang Feng had stumbled back. His sword lay in fragments across the polished floor, nothing but shards and slivers. Only the hilt remained intact, silver rain-guards still attached, mocking him.

  He reached for his bow faster than the wind, nocking an arrow and angling at my temple.

  My hand brushed the floor. Dust. Light as ash clung to my fingers. Had it…disintegrated?

  “You—you…what did you do?” Jiang Feng stammered.

  What did I do? I looked at my hands. Nothing. I hadn’t touched the blade. The fog in my brain thickened. This wasn’t me.

  I turned to the Crown Prince, ready to grovel, to excuse, to play the game again. To read the room. That was how you survived here, after all.

  Yet his face remained unfazed.

  No fear. No surprise. No outrage. As if this had all been expected. As if swords disintegrated on command all the time.

  Jiang Feng, on the other hand, looked like someone had just told him that this was the afterlife and he was actually a pig.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Fine, Your Highness. You win this round.

  You’re not just unreadable.

  You’re interesting.

  And I hate how much I want to know why.