SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 1, 5th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  Perhaps it was Fate.

  Or maybe I’m just blessed to end up adopted by lunatics.

  Ze Lujin was rubbing my hand like she was trying to polish it down to the bone. Her body leaned against mine, close enough that I could smell the faint perfume of incense. Sweet and unforgettable in a bad way. Which would be perfectly fine.

  If we were alone.

  But of course, we weren’t.

  I was not one to stereotype. But we were in a hall packed of women. Powerful, perfumed, perfectly poised women. Women who weren’t stupid. So even if their faces feigned distraction and their hands fluttered over teacups, I knew every gaze was tracking me.

  “Little Socks,” Ze Lujin cooed, raising her cup to my lips like a mother feeding her child, “have a sip.”

  I wanted to decline. I should have declined. But there was no polite way to wrestle a teacup out of an insane noblewoman’s hand without drawing even more attention. And she was already smearing the rim across my mouth like she was going to force-feed me.

  “Little Socks~” she repeated, her tone syrupy, her grip unrelenting.

  “Who does that servant think she is?”

  “Hahaha!”

  “I didn't know she could get anymore crazy.”

  “Lady Ze,” a sharp voice cut through the whispering, “are you so engrossed in playing mother you forgot about us?”

  The Empress.

  I looked up and immediately wished I hadn’t. The Empress' gaze was the kind that peeled skin, molecule by molecule. I pulled back instinctively, detaching myself from Lady Ze, who stood up with a fluid, if slightly manic, grace and bowed.

  “Of course not, Your Highness. I would never forget.”

  She gestured to Xue Wan’er, who stepped forward with a metal chest in her arms.

  “Your Highness, I present you with Lian Brocade.”

  A collective gasp, loud and indulgent. Not that I blamed them. Although I would have preferred a tattered set of chronicles hehehe. Lian Brocade was legendary. An unreplaceable treasure of the Liantai Sect, known to be only spun by Ze Lujin. After she lost her mind, it couldn’t be replicated. The kind of fabric that kingdoms could bleed for. But the room wasn’t gasping at the cloth.

  They were gasping at the gesture.

  The Empress squinted, probably trying to decide whether Ze Lujin’s gift was sincere or a subtle insult. Lady Ze, unbothered, approached and drew out a shimmering length of brocade without hesitation. She waved it before the handmaidens of the Empress.

  “Please, accept this offering.”

  Then she returned to her seat, facing me once more. Her eyes that were usually so glassy, were unusually lucid. They were calm pools for once, not storm drains. Wrinkles creased around her lids as she smiled again, raising the teacup toward me.

  I should’ve ended it right there. The farce. The delusion. The ridiculous act we were both performing.

  But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  Because—despite everything—I loved it.

  I never thought I’d missed out by not having a mother. Lao Zhe and Ju Ying did the job. But with Ze Lujin…it was different. She made me feel the absence. Made me want the fantasy. Just for a moment. Just for this room.

  They called her mad. A traitor. They beat her bloody and stripped her life to bones. And she bore it. All of it. Until they took her child.

  And here I was. I could be that child.

  Even if it was just pretend. Even if it was the cruellest kind of wishful thinking. If we played along long enough—maybe, just maybe—we could both believe it.

  And the more she called me ‘Little Socks,’ the clearer her voice became. The more coherent her mind. She was even bold enough now to slap the Empress across the face with a priceless relic.

  The moment barely lasted.

  The Empress was beside the chest. Her hand brushed the fabric, and before anyone could blink, it was fire and ash. She watched the threads turn to smoke with the dispassionate efficiency of someone swatting a fly.

  Your fabric does not impress me. Nothing from you ever will.

  Ze Lujin stiffened. I tugged at her sleeve, silently pleading. Not here. Not now.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  There was a time when I would’ve been the impulsive one.

  But I knew better now.

  Impulse only got you killed.

  Lady Ze yanked her arm from my grasp. “Little Socks,” she said, sharp and gleaming, “let me show you how you deal with a biǎozǐ.”

  She stormed to the Empress.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Her voice rang like steel against porcelain.

  The Empress tilted her head, unconcerned.

  Lady Ze raised the ruined fabric, her hand trembling, but not from fear.

  “I said—what is the meaning of this?”

  No reply. Just a delicate, withering silence.

  Then she threw her teacup at the Empress.

  It missed, but only barely. The shards buried deep into the throne’s cushions like teeth.

  The Empress didn’t even flinch. “Someone’s getting bold,” she murmured.

  Imperial Guards surged forward. Lady Ze hit the floor hard, restrained and wild-eyed but the wildness wasn’t madness. Not this time. This was something else. Something clear.

  The Empress smirked. “I’ll wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

  Ze Lujin said nothing.

  “I heard,” the Empress continued, “that you adopted a servant. At first, I thought it was just another one of your stories. But then I looked into it.”

  She turned her head toward me.

  No. No, no, no—

  I backed away, toward the edge of the room, but something tore at my scalp. My vision exploded with stars. I crumpled, skull-first into the tiles. The room twisted, voices becoming distorted burbles underwater.

  What—

  A deafening pop cracked through my skull as my hearing came back.

  The Empress was still speaking.

  “You didn’t share your secret,” she whispered to Ze Lujin. “But I’ll share one of mine.”

  She leaned in close enough to kiss her. “I hate secrets. So she—” a finger jabbed toward me “—should not be here.”

  It felt like my nerves caught fire as the beating rod whacked at me. I curled in on myself, fists, jaw, toes, everything trying to escape the agony that had no exit. Just stop. Please.

  Eventually, it stopped. Not from mercy. Just boredom.

  The Empress crouched beside me. Her breath touched my ear. “Su Tang, was it?”

  I didn’t look up.

  Her hand grabbed my chin, forcing my face upward. “It really is you. My dear son’s personal maid.”

  She leaned in again, almost smiling. “I could spare you, you know. If you help me…care for him.”

  I could have said yes. I probably should have.

  There was no loyalty in me for Ze Lujin. None for the Crown Prince. They’d let me rot just the same.

  But ‘care for your son; wasn’t the offer. We both knew that.

  It was to spy. Betray.

  And I’d already promised myself—after Chun Li, after Xiao Wu—that I would never become anyone’s dog.

  I took too long to answer because she threw my face aside.

  And the cane came down.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Again.

  The room filled with Ze Lujin’s screams.

  “What is the meaning of this?!”

  ***

  I awoke beneath a silk canopy, the kind that screamed wealth and too much taste for subtlety. The room was familiar in a way that made my skin itch, like returning to a dream you didn’t enjoy the first time around but had no say in revisiting.

  A noise. Light footsteps.

  Instinct surged faster than thought. I was upright, needle in hand, before my eyes fully opened. The maid barely made a sound as she crumpled, the tray clattering into an inelegant mix of shards and herbal slop.

  Jiang Feng leaned against the doorframe like he owned it.

  I ignored him, shoved on my shoes, staggered once (gracefully, I might add), and stalked toward the exit. If I had to impersonate Lady Ze’s estranged offspring just to get out of here, I would.

  His hand snapped around my wrist.

  I spun. My needle was already poised, ready to deliver it into perfect place, just behind the ear, where armour didn’t reach and nerves did. A single jab, and he’d be dreaming of rabbits for a week. But he blocked the left. Smart. I twisted my right free and shoved him back. My needles glittered in warning.

  Why is it always me? Getting drugged, stabbed, imprisoned, and now politely detained. And somehow I was still expected to play nice.

  Jiang Feng unsheathed his sword, but even he knew better than to charge. Last time ended poorly for him. This time might end worse.

  “The Crown Prince wants a word with you.”

  “Oh, does he now? That’s touching.” I stepped forward, needles at the ready. “Here’s my message. Ask him why he dragged me back into this absolute dumpster fire of a palace.”

  We circled. Always a dance with him.

  “He said you’d figure it out.”

  I hate how well he knows me. Worse, I hate how often he’s right.

  “And?”

  “He also said you’d be angry and try to leave immediately. My job was to stop you.”

  Ah, yes. His Highness, High Prince of Emotional Manipulation, Foreteller of My Entire Inner Life. And here I was, playing my part like a clockwork marionette. My arms trembled. Not from fear, but from the exhausting maintenance of dignity. The physical cost of pretending not to be bone-weary.

  I dropped my arms.

  He saw the opportunity.

  He lunged. I ducked low, pivoted, and swiped his legs. He went down, momentarily, but recovered with his usual soldier’s stubbornness, this time switching to close combat. Efficient, mechanical. I was barely keeping up.

  Then his arm locked around my collarbone, pinning me. I braced myself against his armour. Cold steel. Familiar pressure.

  Let me go.

  Let me leave.

  Let me leave.

  Let me LEAVE—

  He was airborne before I even registered it. A ragdoll flung across the chamber. I dropped to my knees, retching blood like a volcano.

  Perfect timing.

  The Crown Prince entered like a stage cue, slow and deliberate, eyes taking in every overturned table and shattered teacup as if he’d choreographed it himself.

  Jiang Feng coughed, dragging himself upright. “Your Highness, she is awake.”

  The Crown Prince, pristine and pristine and pristine, twisted his lips in mild amusement. “Thank you, Jiang Feng.”

  He came toward me. I looked up.

  His face was aggravating. Not just because of its celestial perfection—sharp cheekbones, lashes too long to be lawful—but because I couldn’t read it. Ever. It was like trying to read a poem written in disappearing ink.

  He knelt and offered me a phial.

  “You seem well,” he said. A statement that was really a question that was really bait.

  I took it. It was warm. Ceramic. Familiar. Qi Qi’s handiwork. Of course it was. I wondered how much he knew about my illness. Those Seals within my body. Or rather, how much Qi Qi told him. Then again, he had been there. Right when everything fell apart. Like a shadow at every turning point.

  I drank it.

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  Jiang Feng, ever the translator for his royal highness, said, “He means your wound.”

  He gestured to his own abdomen. I looked down.

  Right. The stabbing. The whipping. The delightful tour of pain I’d experienced not long ago.

  I pressed my fingers into my side. No wound. No ache. Nothing but smooth skin beneath bandages. Not even a memory of pain. My body had erased it all. Just as it always did.

  Just as it wasn’t supposed to.

  The Crown Prince watched. Observing me like one of his little puzzles, waiting for the final piece to fall into place.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

  “To finish your job,” he said, easily deflecting the conversation. Liar. I had no proof, but he had to be lying. His eyes swept the room, obviously seeing the evidence of the energy burst, the chaos I had caused just by existing. He knew. Surely he knew.

  “Is that all, Your Highness?”

  “You seem frustrated.”

  Oh, do I? How quaint. And here I thought I was masking it well. The spitting blood, collapsing in doorways, threatening armed guards. The picture of serenity.

  His gaze flickered, unreadable as always. “Would you come with me somewhere?”

  That was the thing with him. He never ordered. He invited.

  And I, fool that I am, always followed.