SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 25, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  Heaven had played us all.

  Ridiculous, really. You’d think we—the almighty residents of Tianxia, string-pullers of mortal fate—would be exempt from divine comedy. But apparently not. Turns out, even Fate make for good punchlines.

  The funeral chambers hummed with sutras, an ocean of monk-song and incense drifting like fog between bells that jingled like distant rain. Everything looked beautifully tragic. Tastefully devastating. Chun Li’s body lay in the casket, buried in red spider lilies, those cruel flowers of parting, interspersed with sterile white blossoms that bloomed like little lies. Her corpse had been so artfully arranged, she looked asleep. Not murdered.

  Not left frozen in a lake like some abandoned doll.

  It had been two days. Two days since Xiao Wu left me. And now Chun Li had followed.

  And I...I, of all people...was still here. It was rather ironic.

  I thought I’d be first to go.

  But it was me who was saying goodbye. Again.

  Fate’s a sick jester with a twisted sense of symmetry.

  Lao Zhe was a complete wreck. I hadn’t told him or Ju Ying about Xiao Wu. I wanted to protect them. But news travels faster than my cowardice. So Lao Zhe and I sat for hours at Xiao Wu’s grave, him crying, me not. And Ju Ying turned to liquor. Every night, she drank herself past remembering.

  We were falling one by one, like stars that lost their sky. Or lambs sent to slaughter. Take your pick. I wasn’t picky anymore.

  I inhaled. Then choked on a breath thick with incense.

  Too sweet. Too holy.

  I needed out. Out of this room, out of this body, out of this aching, sticky grief that clung to my ribs like blood.

  The Crown Prince’s estate was blissfully silent. A tomb disguised as a palace. Everyone who gave half a damn was at the funeral. I wandered the stone paths with a broom I didn’t need. There was nothing to sweep. I just needed to move.

  I wanted to scrub the grief off my skin. Wanted to sweep my brain clean of the spiderwebs that clung to every corner.

  I kicked the pavement.

  It was too clean. Too pristine. It mocked me.

  I hated it.

  hated this place, this quiet, this pretend sanctity.

  I hated that you could scrub marble until it gleamed, but no amount of effort could polish a ruined soul.

  I hated that everyone moved on like grief was a garment they could shrug off.

  “Move on,” they said.

  As if people hadn’t died.

  As if we were worthless.

  Yes, we were nothing. I knew that. I—

  Snap.

  A loud crack splintered the air. I leapt back, arms curling protectively over my chest. I stared down at the remains of the broom I’d been holding.

  Gone. All of it. A jagged mess of wood and bristles.

  I dropped to my knees, gathering the shards with trembling fingers.

  This wasn’t right. I wasn’t right. What was happening to me? What was happening to everything in my life? Why was everything falling apart?

  My breath came in sharp gasps. A stampede of thoughts trampled through my head.

  If I had found Chun Li sooner.

  If I had made Xiao Wu stay.

  If I had listened to Ju Ying.

  If I had just—

  I clutched my temples as the noise inside me rose to a crescendo. My heart pounded like it was trying to break out of my ribcage. My whole body trembled.

  Then—

  Stillness.

  Memories swirled in my mind, searching for something to blame. That moment. The moment everything truly broke.

  The thought sliced through the noise like a knife.

  And beneath it, the truth boiled to the surface:

  They all had to pay.

  The ones who stood by.

  The ones who called it Fate.

  The ones who watched the slaughter and said nothing.

  They would pay. Every single one of them.

  For Chun Li. For Xiao Wu.

  I stood.

  There were things to be done.

  And if Heaven wouldn’t serve justice—

  Then I would. Starting with Zhao Lili.

  ***

  “Your Highness, who can protect you if I’m not with you?” Jiang Feng muttered like a man being asked to relinquish his only child, as he peeled off his uniform and handed it to me with all the enthusiasm of a tax audit.

  So. This was happening.

  Today, of all days, the Crown Prince decided I should attend court with him. Not as a guest. Not even as a servant. But as a fake bodyguard, because apparently, His Highness managed to guess that I’d been planning to impersonate Jiang Feng and sneak into court myself.

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  Instead of calling me out or throwing me in the dungeon, he just...invited me.

  I would’ve have objected because my curiosity did not rule my brain. But when the calculative bastard pulled out the title of that most precious text, the one which ended with the word compendium, I lost all sense of reason. It’s scary what that book can do to people.

  Later, I supposed that he’d finally come to value my ‘insight’ after the mess with Gao Yuchou and used the book to bribe me into entering the court. Or maybe—and this was far more likely—he wanted something. Some political gambit, some ploy he hadn’t deigned to share with the lowly mortal crawling beside him.

  Either way, I had spent the entire night numbing my brain with faction charts, court family trees, and an overwhelming urge to throw myself into the river.

  Why? Because today’s court was discussing Chun Li’s death.

  It was said—said being that dangerous passive-aggressive word people used when no one wanted to claim responsibility—that Chun Li had a disagreement with Princess Changping and ended up dead in her compound. No witnesses. No signs of forced entry. Just a body and an absurdly convenient murder weapon discarded with all the grace of a toddler hiding their mess under the carpet.

  So, who was the culprit? I had to know.

  Well, not really, but as long as he gives me The Velvet Root Compendium, I’m happy to stay ignorant to the rest.

  The court itself was everything I expected: an over-glorified echo chamber where intelligent men used poetic metaphors and twisted logic to say absolutely nothing. No wonder the Emperor had a permanent frown. I would too, if I had to listen to this carnival of wordplay and double speak every morning.

  From what little I understood, there were three major factions tearing this place apart like rabid dogs. On one side, Gan Yuanxiao’s master. On the other, the Empress’s pet officials. Oh, and somewhere in this lovely blood-soaked chessboard was the Crown Prince. And maybe, just maybe, the people who had a hand in Xiao Wu’s death.

  I tried not to stare at the Crown Prince. I failed.

  A tall man with a gravelly voice and the posture of a question mark stepped forward. “Your Majesty, allow me to recount the case,” he said, drawing the entire hall’s attention like an actor stepping onto centre stage. “First, the coroner confirmed Chun Li died the morning she was discovered. Second, the murder weapon, a hairpin belonging to Princess Changping, was found in the lake reeds. Third, Guild records show the princess summoned Chun Li to her compound that very morning.”

  He paused for effect. “I believe this points to Princess Changping’s guilt.”

  I tilted my head. What a neat little narrative. If you didn’t mind ignoring basic respect for the princess’ wit.

  If she had killed Chun Li, would she really have invited her into her home that same day?

  Another man stood, his court tablet gleaming with the name Lin Mengshi. The Imperial Censorate himself. Logic had arrived.

  Let the bickering begin.

  “Your Majesty,” Lin Mengshi said smoothly, “I must object. If the princess’s residence is so secluded, how did soldiers even know to arrest her? Who told them?”

  Lord Wu Chengsi shifted awkwardly.

  “Oh? No answer?” Lin Mengshi circled him like a cat with a particularly stupid mouse. “Isn’t it suspicious that only your soldiers knew where to find Chun Li’s body?”

  The Emperor hated spies. Everyone knew that. And Lord Wu had basically handed him a spy case with a bow on top.

  Brilliant. Lin Mengshi had casted doubt on who can enter Princess Changping’s residence. If anyone could enter, that meant anyone could have planted Chun Li’s body in the lake.

  Soon, everyone was shouting, grasping for power like pigs fighting for scraps. I couldn’t keep up with the clamour of accusations, justifications, and veiled threats.

  Then someone, likely a nobody with a loud voice and even bigger mouth, roared, “Zhouwei demands blood! Bring the princess out!”

  Because of course, when things start going badly, blame a woman. Especially one who can’t defend herself.

  But his outburst did exactly what he intended to do; it riled up the court. Immediately, all the officials began pulling out their weapons of wordplay, doublespeak, books, swords, anything that could inflict damage.

  It took the Grand Chancellor to quiet the madness, cutting through the chaos like thunder. “Shut your mouth, Jing Cheng. Have you not had your fill of death? This is not a marketplace—this is the Emperor’s court! Kneel.”

  The nobody, named Jing Cheng, crumbled like wet rice paper. “xiānshēng, I—”

  “If you still acknowledge me as your xiānshēng, get on your knees now.” Jing Cheng slowly got onto his knees.

  The Grand Chancellor bowed before the Emperor. “Your Majesty, please forgive his stupidity for disrupting the court. Your Majesty, please take it that he is grieving for the loss of his shījiě.”

  The Emperor inclined his head. “Take him out to be punished. But spare the rod. He is grieving.”

  The Imperial Guards grasped Jing Cheng from his kneeling position and disappeared outside with him.

  The Emperor leaned forward, continuing the conversation as if there hadn’t just been a massive commotion. “Further examination is required,” he mused. “Who should lead it?”

  Silence. The expectant kind of silence.

  Then came the answer.

  “I believe the Crown Prince would be a partial candidate,” Lin Mengshi said.

  Ah. So, this was it. The performance, the buildup. It had all led to this grand reveal. The Crown Prince, bastion of impartial justice, would solve the case. Either that, or he’d conveniently sweep it under the silken rug because he was involved. Maybe this was damage control wrapped in ceremonial robes.

  I wanted so much to find someone to blame, and he was perfect scapegoat; he schemed, and he knew Zhao Lili, and his relationship with his mother, and the fact that Yun Shiqi was the only person standing in his way to the throne…

  It all fit a little too nicely.

  But just as I began spiralling into one of my mental dissertations on conspiracy and palace politics, I realised something was wrong.

  There were guards.

  Beside me.

  Dragging me forward to the feet of a certain lady.

  This is not good.

  The word ‘spy’ cut through the chamber like a knife.

  The Empress stared down at me with the kind of smile that required no warmth. “Who are you, and why are you pretending to be the Crown Prince’s bodyguard?”

  They yanked my hat off. My hair tumbled down like a traitor.

  Oh, theatrics.

  “It’s just a maid.”

  “Some stupid girl.”

  Ah, the court. So quick to dismiss women unless they were dead or useful. I doubt that the Crown Prince, in all his righteous partiality would dare defend me. I will have to do it myself.

  “Name yourself,” the Emperor commanded, voice booming like a judge in a fever dream.

  “I am Su Tang,” I said, picking up my discarded hat and curtseying low. “A lowly alchemist from Taishan;s Alchemist Guild.”

  “And why did you sneak in?”

  “Because I asked her to,” came the Crown Prince’s voice, overlapped with my own response.

  He told me not to make a scene, so why did he vouch for me? He’s the one causing trouble! Everyone’s going to kill me if they know I’m related to the Crown Prince!

  The Emperor smiled thinly. “Oh? Please explain. You know that sneaking into court is an act of deceiving the Emperor. An act punishable by death.”

  The Empress’s face twitched. I suspected that she was the one who had recognised me first and made this scene. But she hadn’t thought that her actions would incriminate her son.

  I bowed. “I am aware, Your Majesty.”

  “Do you not fear me, little girl?”

  I prostrated at point. “I know, Your Majesty. I fear Your Majesty’s wrath. But I also believe in Your Majesty’s fairness. I beg you to spare my life.”

  “Why should I?” the Emperor asked, clearly enjoying this spectacle.

  Deep breath. It seemed that every time someone asked me why they should listen to me, things went wrong. This was the fork in the road, and I would not choose wrong again. Because this time, I literally had nothing to lose.

  “I will investigate Chun Li’s death and uncover the truth within the month. If I fail, Your Majesty may do as you please with me.”

  Either way, within two months, I’ll be dead from my poison.

  The Emperor turned to the Crown Prince. “So? Is this why you brought her?”

  I jumped in, faster than I could think. “The Crown Prince didn’t bring me. I acted on my own. This bargain is mine. I will stake my life for justice.”

  The chamber collectively held its breath. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had just yelled at the Emperor or because I had spoken to the Emperor without first being addressed, or a combination of both. Or just because no one could believe that anyone would be so stupid. I shouldn’t have defended him. He can defend himself just fine. Ah…I guess old habits really do die hard.

  Then, the Emperor stood. “Court is dismissed. Everyone, leave—except you,” he pointed at me, “and you,” to the Crown Prince.

  Everyone quickly fled the room with the speed of a stampede. Even the Empress slithered away, her silence louder than her fury.

  And then, it was just us three. The Emperor. The Crown Prince. And me, trying not to tremble, trying not to scream.

  The Emperor’s eyes locked on mine, calculating and ancient. And then, with an unexpected chuckle that echoed through the vast hall, he spoke:

  “I will grant your request, little girl.”

  And the world didn’t feel quite so steady anymore.