SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 26, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  “Speak,” the Emperor thundered.

  Yun Hui gestured toward me. I stepped forward, one practiced foot in front of the other, rehearsed grace on the outside, a wasps’ nest of nerves underneath. For once, I was grateful for the court etiquette that demanded left hands be hidden beneath the right. It allowed me to conceal my wounds. My magic had ceased the bleeding, and the flesh was no longer hanging in ribbons, but it was still discoloured and twisted like overcooked dumpling meat. Least to say, it was unsightly. But today, I had to be flawless.

  Or at least, convincingly close.

  “Your Majesty,” I began, my voice calm and clipped, “based on the coroner’s findings and my own investigation, there is reasonable doubt that Her Royal Highness, Princess Changping, is culpable for the recent murder.”

  There were a few murmurs. But the Emperor wasn’t throwing fists yet, so I continued.

  “First, Chun Li was a much taller woman than the princess. Based on the angle of the wound, the killer must have either been significantly taller or standing above the victim. Second, the hairpin previously believed to be the weapon—Her Highness’s own—does not match the depth, width, or trajectory of the stab wound. Third…” I allowed myself a pause, “if it pleases Your Majesty, I request to demonstrate.”

  The Emperor gave a firm nod.

  Like well-oiled clockwork, the Crown Prince’s servants moved to prepare the setup. I walked to the centre of the court, prepared to deliver an elegant, scientifically sound takedown, only to be intercepted by a whispering servant.

  “Su Tang, we don’t have the hairpin.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “It was…misplaced. We’ve sent someone to retrieve it.”

  I looked at the Emperor. Then back at the servant. Then at the Emperor again.

  Fantastic. The was possibly the most important day of my life and now we were playing hide-and-seek with the murder weapon.

  “No time,” I said quietly. “I’ll handle it.”

  I turned back to the court and reached up and yanked the pin from my own hair. My hair fell around me in waves, dramatic and untamed, a wild veil of defiance.

  Or at least, I hoped it looked like that.

  “Your Majesty, this is a hairpin.”

  The crowd tilted forward like eager schoolchildren. I held the pin aloft.

  “It’s pointed. It’s sharp. It looks deadly. It would seem a very reasonable murder weapon…but looks, as Your Majesty is aware, are often deceiving.”

  I walked over to a tightly pulled canvas now standing in for the poor, ill-fated Chun Li.

  “As Your Majesty will see, I can throw the pin…” I flung it and it hit the material with a dull thunk. “But it barely dents the fabric.”

  I retrieved it.

  “However, if I am standing close enough—” I stepped forward and jabbed, hard. The pin pierced clean through. I pulled out the hairpin and examined the hole with my fingers.

  “Dearest ministers,” I turned back to the court. “I ask you this: if someone were close enough to drive a hairpin through your chest, would you let them without struggle?”

  Everyone who had been following the case knew that Chun Li’s body had no bruises, no signs of a struggle.

  There was no need to overexplain.

  The court remained silent.

  I picked up the canvas and signalled at the administrative eunuch standing near the bottom of the dais. I bowed at the waist and presented the evidence: a tray containing the investigative documents and the canvas.

  “Your Majesty, here are the written findings. As for the physical evidence, you may see the canvas yourself. Your Majesty will find that the hole made by the hairpin is thick and elliptical in nature: which does not align the victim’s present wound. I hope this may exonerate Princess Changping.”

  The eunuch took his time approaching. Too much time. My left hand, hidden beneath the tray, shook with effort. The pain flared again, reminding me that the raw nerve endings were only held together by some magic.

  If I could convince His Majesty.

  If I said just the right words.

  Maybe—

  “I object!” Grand Secretary Zhao bellowed.

  He stepped forward like he owned the floor, eyes locked on me. and I knew, at that very moment, he planned to make my life even more miserable. He looks familiar. I wonder where...I see.

  Well, more accurately, I heard. His voice was cool and polished, just like a certain demon—Zhao Lili.

  Of course, they would be related.

  “This…evidence,” he scoffed, “is nothing more than a child’s fairytale.”

  The Emperor frowned. “Why is that my beloved minister?”

  Zhao Qingshan gestured about. “Chun Li’s body was found in Yun Shiqi’s residence. Unless corpses have recently developed the ability to walk, someone had to move her. The obvious conclusion is that the princess did it.”

  He turned to me now; his lips curled in a mockery of a smile. “After all, the princess is an abandoned recluse. Who knows what she does with her time? Certainly nothing respectable.”

  A wave of murmurs swept the court. I stiffened. Princess or not, they were ready to burn her based on hearsay.

  And it seemed that this man was a powerful minister. Powerful enough to publicly speak the princess’ name and not be punished.

  No wonder he bred the spoilt biǎozǐ.

  But Zhao Qingshan wasn’t finished.

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  “There is a greater concern. This brat—” he stabbed a finger in my direction “—has committed treason.”

  The court exploded.

  Treason. The word rippled through the air like poison in water. I clenched my jaw.

  Number two. Words are the most powerful weapon.

  Hold my tongue. Hold it fast. Don’t speak.

  He continued, “Has everyone forgotten? This brat snuck into court on the same day we were discussing Chun Li’s murder. Even at the risk of committing the crime of deceiving the Emperor.”

  Yes. That’s the reason I’m here discussing the case; to exonerate myself from that crime. What’s your point?

  He continued, proudly showcasing a mèngzhū—Dream Bead. The glossy pearl shimmered ominously in his hand. The mèngzhū were magical artefacts produced by clams found only in Shanhu Prefecture. They could accurately capture memories, but at the expense of inducing amnesia in the victim.

  I wonder who the poor soul was.

  “Doesn’t it seem suspicious that this nobody would go to such great lengths? Well, it is because she has a relationship with the princess. A close one.”

  The mèngzhū replayed the scene where I was taken into Princess Changping’s residence after my fainting spell.

  That’s not treason nor loyalty. I just wanted to know who Chun Li’s murderer was.

  Zhao Qingshan paced, triumphant. “She inserted herself into the investigation to stall justice. She has lied to the court and violated your edict on frugality by wasting national resources for this false investigation.”

  He’s reaching. But reaching with a ladder and a grappling hook.

  “Please, Your Majesty, I beg that you find both this girl and Princess Changping guilty.”

  Silence fell.

  The Emperor placed down his cup.

  The Crown Prince remained unreadable, except for a twitch in his hand. Subtle, but there. Rage, maybe. Or nothing.

  Soon, everyone would be glaring at me, grabbing me, and calling for the stake. Not if I moved first.

  Number one. Truth is irrelevant. Theatrics are everything.

  Number two. Words are the most powerful weapon.

  It was time to start the next act.

  “Thank you for your wisdom, Grand Secretary,” I said sweetly. “Perhaps if you had spent less time perfecting the art of public condemnation and more time raising your daughter, we wouldn’t be here at all.”

  Gasps hissed across the court. I didn’t care.

  “This is His Majesty’s court! How dare you—”

  “I dare because we’ve clearly abandoned decorum. Besides, if we’re treating rumours as evidence, I have one. I heard Grand Secretary Zhao’s daughter bathes in milk.”

  The court reeled.

  I smiled, baring teeth. “Tell me, Grand Secretary—what was it you said about His Majesty’s edict on frugality?”

  He sputtered. “This brat is lying—!”

  “Your Majesty, here is the proof,” I cut in, producing inventory scrolls on milk rations I had acquired from the Alchemist Guild. “Along this, Lady Zhao Lili has requisitioned Your Majesty’s healers for vanity treatments.”

  I had thought to tell the Emperor about Zhao Lili’s wastefulness after completing Chun Li’s case. Who knew that the Grand Secretary would just hand her over himself?

  Thank you Zhao Lili. You’ve signed your own death warrant.

  The Emperor stood. “Fifty gallons of milk a day. For bathing?” He flung the scroll at Zhao Qingshan. “You dare call this girl wasteful?”

  “Your Majesty, we are here to discuss Chun Li’s murder, not other affairs, I ask that—”

  “You’re in the wrong and you still want to talk. Fine. Talk all you want. Tell me: What is the punishment for someone who violates my frugality edict? Tell me, since you love to talk so much!”

  The Grand Secretary barely whispered. “Your Majesty decreed that anybody who is wasteful will be flogged to death and stripped of immortality without trial.”

  “Then that shall be done. Hear my decree: take Zhao Lili and flog her five-hundred times in the public square. If she is still alive, throw her to the mortal realm.”

  “Please, Your Majesty—my daughter is young, na?ve—!”

  “Was she na?ve when she wasted food during famine? Consider her lucky that she can keep her body whole!”

  I bowed my head. Not from respect. From exhaustion.

  The Emperor descended the dais. His feet stopped before me. “Lift your head, faithful one.”

  I didn’t. “I dare not. All I do is for Your Majesty’s peace.”

  He chuckled. “What a glib tongue. I like you. Speak. What do you want?”

  I want revenge. I want Zhao Lili broken. I want Xiao Wu’s ghost to stop turning his back on me in my dreams. I thought that was what I wanted. That was all that had played in my mind for days.

  But I couldn’t smile.

  Truth couldn’t be traded for lies, no matter how hard we tried.

  The Crown Prince stepped forward. “Our duty is to ease Your Majesty’s burdens. We seek nothing more.”

  I—what had I done?

  I bit down on my tongue until it tasted like iron.

  I had spoken too much.

  ***

  I dawdled after the Crown Prince.

  He knew. He knew all along, didn’t he? Of course he did.

  He always knows.

  Zhao Lili, the interrogation, my every shaky breath. He’d let it all play out like a puppeteer quietly watching his marionette dance itself into a noose. He let me speak, let me vent, right until the moment I said something useful.

  And then—snip.

  I thought I wanted Zhao Lili did. I wanted her to die for Xiao Wu’s death. Then why did I feel so empty?

  “If you keep staring, you will burn a hole through my head.”

  “I’m not staring,” I said.

  He’s deliberately catching me off guard. Just like how he used me to get rid of Zhao Lili. Now her blood was on my hands. I didn’t realise it—no, I hated her.

  This was right. This is right.

  Does it matter whether or not he used me? She was evil. Someone would have gotten rid of her eventually. He was just letting me take my reven—

  Wait.

  How did he know that Xiao Wu would be killed by Zhao Lili—

  My mouth moved by its own accord: “Why?”

  He stopped mid-step, right there on the staircase, and didn’t even bother to look back.

  I clenched my fists, pressing nail crescents into my palms. Pain made things simpler, clearer, like a slap to the face from reality. I took the step I’d been avoiding.

  “You knew. You knew everything, didn’t you?”

  Silence.

  Because the Crown Prince wasn’t obligated to respond to people like me. He didn’t need to play the game when he owned the board. To him, I was just another carved piece. Helpful when convenient, discarded when not. A pawn. Not even a knight.

  But for heaven’s sake, this wasn’t a game. This was life. A human life. Xiao Wu died because—

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I could hear my voice raising. “Why didn’t you do anything? I even thought—”

  My voice cracked. I was an idiot. I even thought he might’ve cared. That maybe, in some version of this twisted courtly nightmare, I was the exception to his icy indifference. That he saw me. Me.

  What kind of fool thinks a chess piece gets special treatment?

  He didn’t move. Still back turned, spine straight, the hairpin on his head aglow under the sun.

  Perfect.

  Cold.

  I raised my arm, frustration overtaking common sense. “You—!”

  A hand caught mine mid-air. Jiang Feng.

  His grip was iron, locking onto my arm right where old burns and fresh bruises tangled beneath silk. I bit my tongue to suppress a scream, because flinching would be a luxury. I looked up, and his expression was unreadable. Somewhere between pity and warning.

  He raised one finger to his lips.

  Then tapped the side of his temple.

  Eyes. Are. Everywhere.

  Right.

  And that mattered more than the truth.

  I swallowed my breath and dropped my gaze. My arm throbbed.

  Number one. Truth is irrelevant. Theatrics are everything.