Chapter 13 #2
“Fine,” he said, burying his fingers in his hair.
The truth spilled out in a rush. “But it’d be more selfish for me to want the throne.
I’m much less qualified than my brother, who’s been diligently studying to become king since he could walk.
I, on the other hand? I preferred reading novels and listening to the handmaidens gossip about their cousins.
I can better paint a landscape than draft a royal decree.
Even if I wanted the crown, I’d only run the kingdom into the ground and make everything worse. ”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re being an absolute fool.”
Ren stared at me, once again thrown by my words. “Excuse me?”
“You say your brother is more qualified,” I continued, “but the duties of a king and knowledge of the law—those are all things that can be learned. What’s much harder to learn is genuine love for the people.
” I tapped his chest, mimicking my father—along with a bit of his wisdom.
“I can tell that you care, Your Highness. You were even willing to sacrifice your life for mine. With that kind of compassion, you could be a king who changes things for the better.”
“I…” He rolled his lips together, eyes growing distant.
His hand clasped mine and squeezed. Then he dropped it—before I could start overthinking the heat of his grip.
“No, no. I couldn’t. You’re kind to believe in me, but the fact of the matter is I don’t want to rule.
And if I don’t want it, how could I ever be a good king? ”
“Ren—”
“Please, Mistress Kang.” He glanced over at the townsfolk, who’d begun gathering near the mansion gate to leave. “Don’t attempt to change my mind. Just focus on honoring our original agreement, so I can help you save your father. That’s all that matters.”
I flinched at his mention of Baba. I’d decided long ago that I’d do anything to save him, even at the cost of others. So perhaps I didn’t have the right to lecture Ren on duty to the masses when I’d done very little myself in looking past my immediate family.
“Come,” Ren interrupted my thoughts. He leaped to his feet and extended a hand, smiling crookedly. “Everyone’s about ready to return home. We should be resuming our journey as well.”
I looked up at his face, so warm and wary at the same time. It brought to mind Liqin’s cunning in Yuyan’s memory. I didn’t like it.
But Ren wasn’t listening to reason, so I’d try again later.
“You’ll need a new Fu talisman,” I said.
He tsked. “And here I was hoping you’d forget.”
“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t want to frighten the residents.”
His smile softened. “Then let’s wait until we’ve left town to perform the reanimation ritual.”
I opened my mouth to argue but knew he was right to be careful. Taking his hand, I muttered, “Very well, Your Highness.”
“By the way,” he said as he pulled me to my feet, “now that we’ve saved each other from horrible deaths, can I call you Siying? Mistress Kang feels too formal after everything we’ve been through.”
I considered the question, remembering the way Yuyan had used my name to trick me. But she’d been an enemy, and this was Ren. Ren, who had put my life before his. Whose goodness made the growing sunrise behind us pale in comparison.
“I suppose,” I said slowly.
He beamed. “And no more ‘Your Highnesses’ either. I much prefer you using my name, as you did earlier.”
I turned on my heel and began to walk off, so he wouldn’t see the smile I was trying so hard to bite back. Maintaining a cool voice, I said, “Fine.”
Having lost an entire night in Guangli, I insisted on traveling quickly to reach the Wen-Sian border. We slept little, and I even allowed Ren to pull on his hood so that we could make some progress during the day.
During those instances, I stuck close to the forest and kept a careful lookout for Wen soldiers.
Ever since I’d run into the woman in Xiuxi, I’d felt like a fox being hunted.
I didn’t miss the horrors of Jing Mansion, but I was more confident dealing with the dead than with members of the Wen military.
I needed to get us back to Sian before anyone realized who Ren was.
As we neared the village of Yueguan, we were forced to slow down. We’d journeyed all night, the sky barely blue against the approaching sunrise. There was still enough darkness for us to reach the checkpoint and cross the Xinzhong River to Sian.
But we were only a few miles away when Ren suddenly stumbled, his hand catching my shoulder at the last second.
I halted, grabbing his arm to steady him. My voice came out half a pitch higher than intended. “Ren? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I just feel a little faint. Can we rest for a moment?”
Torn between impatience and concern, I glanced at the road before us. Off to left, in the distance, the village of Yueguan hugged the base of Mount Yue, its houses merging with the forest that swathed the mountainside.
If we stopped now, the sun would be up by the time we approached the checkpoint. The guards would certainly question a ganshi priestess guiding the dead in daylight. Which meant that if we were to rest here, we’d have to hide until nightfall—losing more time as a result.
But Ren looked truly exhausted, even with his eyes shielded behind the Fu talisman. His complexion was unnervingly pale, his smile more strained than usual. I realized, somewhat ashamedly, that I’d pushed him too hard.
“All right,” I said, looping my arm around his waist and nudging him toward the safety of the trees. “You can sleep for a few hours, but first you must drink some ginseng tea.”
Ren curled his lip. “Must it be ginseng?”
“It’s good for strengthening qi,” I said. “You need it.”
“But it won’t be enough to warm the mala beads. I need human qi for that.”
“It’ll still be good for you. Now stop complaining and do as I say.”
We found a thick-rooted tree to settle under, protected from overbearing sunlight and unwanted human eyes. After boiling tea with the ginseng I’d previously bought, I made sure Ren finished both cups that I poured. I smirked faintly at his disgust, but he made no further comment.
“What’s that smell?” he asked, sniffing the air as he lowered his empty cup.
I lifted my nose, catching a whiff of sulfur.
“Mount Yue is known for its hot springs,” I said, remembering a visit I’d made with my family many years ago, before Wen declared independence. “Yueguan relies on the tourists who come to bathe in the springs, which are said to extend one’s youth.”
“Is that so?” said Ren. “Should we test that claim? I wouldn’t mind prolonged youth.”
I swatted his knee, then took the cup from him. “We don’t have time for such things. We’ve stopped only for you to get some rest. Now lie down and sleep before you fall face-first into the campfire.”
He laughed but readily obeyed, too tired to argue. The sound made me smile. At least he still had the strength to be merry.
Once Ren was wrapped in his cloak, having fallen easily into a deep sleep, I stamped out the fire and started for the village of Yueguan. It was risky to leave Ren on his own, but we were out of food, and he’d need it to maintain his strength. At least until we found another spirit to purify.
I used my staff as a walking stick as I navigated the rough mountain terrain to reach the village gate. Dawn flung rosy hues over the horizon, the sky lightening with my steps.
The scent of sulfur tickled my nose, growing stronger the closer I drew to the settlement. Warm humidity encased me, quite a contrast to the autumn chill that I’d grown accustomed to.
Through the trees, I caught flashes of the terraced pools cascading down the face of Mount Yue.
White earth rimmed the smooth green water, a balmy film of mist floating through the forest. The pools reached as far as the edge of the village, making it easier for the residents to construct restaurants and inns around the springs, which in turn allowed convenient access for guests.
Before, visitors from Sian traveled in caravans to relax in Yueguan.
Now the only tourists were Wen’s own citizens.
I ignored the temptation of a hot bath and entered the village proper to find the nearest establishment selling travel supplies. I purchased more easy-to-carry foods, like dried meats and fruits, and a small sack of potatoes.
On my way out of the village, however, I noticed a stall selling steamed snacks.
The smell of sweet pork buns and lotus leaf–wrapped sticky rice wafted from the stacks of bamboo baskets.
I thought of Ren, who’d been sharing my pots of congee for the past week, never once critiquing the food.
Surely, having been raised in the palace, he would’ve preferred more flavorful meals.
Street food wasn’t nearly the same as roasted duck dressed in plum sauce and vegetables laid out like jewels on porcelain plates, but it satisfied both stomach and heart in its own way.
After the week we’d had—and all he’d done for me—Ren deserved something pleasant.
I approached the stall and ordered everything my nose could distinguish. The vendor, an older woman with gray-streaked hair and an apron smeared in flour, was more than happy to oblige.
“Would you also like an order of lotus buns?” she asked, shrewdly capitalizing on my eagerness. “They’re our specialty, in honor of the moon for which our town is named.”
“All right,” I said, won by the vendor’s motherly smile. What was the last thing my mother had made for me before she passed? I couldn’t remember.
“Here, try it,” the vendor said, offering me a smooth white roll wrapped in leaves. “The pork buns will take just a moment to steam.”
The bread scorched my fingers when I touched it, so I blew across it first before delicately splitting the bun apart.
Hidden inside was a generous offering of rich brown lotus paste, the sugary scent escaping into the air.
I tore off a piece of the bun, ensuring an even amount of bread and paste, and popped it into my mouth.
“Good?” said the vendor as she watched me chew.
I nodded, then swallowed. “Delicious.”
“It’s nice to see a traveler in town.” The vendor dusted flour on her palms and rolled out another piece of dough. “Yueguan has been too quiet these past months.”
“Are the springs not busy?”
“Not at all. Everyone is too afraid to visit, what with us being so close to the border. We’re all holding our breath, waiting for the Sian king’s soldiers to strike.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, thinking of the prince waiting for me back in the forest. The prince who could possibly prevent the village’s greatest fear. “I’m sure nothing will happen anytime soon.”
“I certainly pray that we’ll be safe a little longer.” The vendor sighed, then paused her work to check on the steaming baskets. “Ah, it appears your food is ready.”
I waited as the woman wrapped my order in cloth and passed it over the stall.
I thanked her with a bow, knowing I needed to hurry before the food cooled.
Imagining Ren’s excited face when he saw the treat made my stomach warm, as if I’d swallowed another bite of lotus bun.
The feeling unnerved me, so I quickly brushed the image away.
I’d walked the length of a block when I felt a hand on my shoulder. After spinning around, I recognized, pulse spiking, the grave face of the soldier I’d left at the apothecary shop in Xiuxi.