Chapter 14
The soldier’s eyes bored into mine. Her dark brows pinched together like gathering storm clouds, her forest-green uniform faded from travel and smelling vaguely of sweat.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’ve been tracking you,” the soldier replied bluntly. “You left Xiuxi in an unusual hurry, and I noticed you had a companion—a living one.”
“Companion?” I pretended to think. “Ah, you must mean the traveler I met in the village. But she wasn’t accompanying me. She was merely answering my request for directions and personally showing me the road to take.”
“She?” the soldier echoed.
“Yes, that’s right.” I smiled, as if amused. “Did you think she was a man? She was rather tall, wasn’t she? When I asked about her height, she said she inherited it from her grandmother, who was—”
“What of the corpse you claimed in the battlefield?” the officer interrupted, clearly exasperated. “He was a soldier from Sian, yes?”
“Yes.” I turned serious again. “But I’ll have you know that holy servants are politically neutral, and so is their work. Just as I have the right to travel between borders, my assignment has the right to return to Sian as well.”
“I’m not trying to stop you from returning, not unless you give me reason to. I merely want to examine the corpse you’re guiding.”
“He’s not with me right now,” I said. “It’s daylight.”
“So where is he?”
“Stored away somewhere dark and cool,” I said vaguely, hugging the package of food against my chest. It was growing uncomfortably hot through the fabric, and my healing wrist twinged from the weight. “Look, I really must be going—”
“Going where?”
Heavens, she was persistent. Were soldiers always this annoying about their jobs?
“Going to … the inn I’m staying at, of course,” I lied.
“Is that where the body is?”
“If I say yes, will you let me go?”
“After you show me the body.”
“You—” I gritted my teeth before I could say something offensive. I didn’t want to give her any more reason to breathe down my back. “Fine. This way, please.”
My mind raced furiously as I led us in the direction of the springs. Surely there would be inns near Yueguan’s main attraction. At the first one I saw, I walked toward it with false confidence and didn’t even glance back to check if the soldier was following. She obviously was.
The front desk was empty; it was lunchtime and the proprietress was likely taking a break. I beelined toward the only flight of stairs in the foyer, then halted and spun back to face the soldier.
“Let me put my things away and tidy up the room first,” I said. “I’ll also make sure the corpse is still secure in the closet.”
The soldier gave me a wary look. “You’re not trying to run away, are you?”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” I said. “There are no other stairs in the inn. If you’re so worried, you can stand guard down here.”
She crossed her arms. “I will.”
I nodded and ascended the steps. As soon as I hit the landing and turned the corner, I checked every door until I found an empty room. It looked like it’d been recently cleaned in preparation for the next guest. My attention zeroed in on the paneled doors opposite the room.
I’d picked this inn not only because it was one of the first I’d noticed but also because of the tiny balconies jutting out from the second floor. There were indeed no other stairs, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get down another way.
I had about three minutes before the soldier grew suspicious, so I quickly ripped the sheets off the bed and tied them to the railing of the balcony.
As a child, I’d gotten myself stuck in a tree outside the monastery trying to rescue a cat Lilan had taken in.
When my father told me to drop into his arms, I fearfully refused.
So he threw up a long sheet for me to crawl down on.
The memory gave me a much-needed shot of strength as I clambered awkwardly over the balcony’s red-painted rail, staff tucked under my arm.
I clung to the sheets and slid down slowly, sweat prickling my neck and back, my arms and legs straining.
My palms burned when I squeezed too tight and slipped too quickly.
I should’ve left the food behind. I thought about the bundle I’d strapped to my back. Its weight and warmth only made me feel hotter. But I’d spent good money on it, and Ren and I needed the food.
At last, my feet hit the ground, and I didn’t stop to worry about where the soldier might be.
Instead, I bolted away from the inn and back toward the business district of Yueguan.
I was just about to turn down a narrow street when I heard a loud “Hey!” from behind.
Glancing over my shoulder, I glimpsed the soldier leaning over the balcony from which I’d escaped, her face flushed with fury. But she was already too late.
I slipped down the street and zigzagged my way out of the town, back to the shaded safety of the forest.
Ren was awake when I returned, sitting with his legs crossed and tracing words in the dirt with a stick.
“What’s that?” I asked, trying to decipher the sweeping characters. His calligraphy tutoring hadn’t gone to waste, apparently.
“Reasons to or not to go in search of you.” He tapped the ground with the stick. “What took you so long?”
I settled beside him and began to unwrap the bundle. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go. I ran into that soldier again, the one from Xiuxi. She’s been following us, apparently.”
Ren stiffened. “Why?”
“She wants to examine you, see if you’re the fugitive she’s looking for.” I placed a leaf-wrapped square of sticky rice in his hands. “And now that I’ve run from her twice, I’m sure I’ve only cemented her reasons to suspect me—suspect us.”
“Then what are we waiting for? We must return to Sian now.”
“It’s still day.”
Ren cursed, then gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Siying. This is all my fault.”
“It’s fine. I knew what I signed up for.
” I tore apart a pork bun, the red filling soaking into the soft bread.
I hoped my own face wasn’t similarly reddened by the sound of my name on his tongue—though the unwelcome heat in my cheeks hinted otherwise.
Clearing my throat, I continued, “We’ll leave as soon as the sun is down.
The soldiers at the border are pretty superstitious, and the dark will only make them less inclined to hassle us. ”
“Speaking of crossing the border,” Ren said, “I was wondering if the checkpoint will be examining my identification papers.”
I nodded, thinking. “Fortunately, your family name is missing from your papers—”
“A precaution my brother thought to take.”
“—but unfortunately, the lack of a surname might draw attention. Also, do you think they’ll recognize the name that is there?”
Ren shook his head. “No one outside the palace knows my name, just as they don’t know my face. My father never thought me capable enough to attend foreign events or even step outside the royal grounds. That was partially why it was easier for me to sneak into the military.”
“All right.” I sighed in relief. “Then just do your part to stay silent, like the reanimated dead you were supposed to be. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“You make it sound as if I don’t know how to be silent.”
I cocked my head at him. “Practice it now.”
He pressed his lips together, focusing on the bundle in his hands. I watched as he gingerly peeled open the lotus leaves and studied the glistening brown rice inside. After a pause, he looked up.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” he said as I held back a laugh, “but what is this?”
“The locals call it nuomiji,” I replied. “It’s sticky rice with chicken, scallions, and mushrooms. My parents bought it for us once when I was a child. I’m sure it still tastes as delicious as I remember.”
“I’ve never seen rice packaged like this before,” Ren said, lifting the food closer for a better view. “It’s certainly convenient.”
I clicked my tongue. “Stop examining your meal and eat it. I bought it just for you, as thanks for saving my life in Guangli.”
At that, he smiled and took a bite.
“Well?” I asked, suddenly eager to know what he, a royal accustomed to the finest Sian delicacies, thought.
He narrowed his eyes, feigning contemplation. Then he looked at me and grinned. “It’s indeed delicious. Thank you, Siying.”
I quickly looked down at my own food, irritated at myself for blushing again. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have a border to cross, so let’s hope you’ll be better at staying silent then.”
The checkpoint was marked by a wooden tower built three stories high.
Guards had been stationed above and below, silhouetted statues in a grassy landscape cloaked by night.
Unsurprisingly, no travelers approached the road intersecting the border, which had once been frequented by traders, tourists, and ambassadors.
Now it was occupied only by the watchmen and a single horse tied to the tower base.
A lonely breeze rippled the loose fabric of my clothes as I strode forward. The chime of my iron bells resonated softly in the air. My footsteps were slow but purposeful. Behind me, a rhythmic thump thump thump—Ren’s hopping—steadied the drum of my own heart.
I sensed, rather than saw, the watchmen straighten at my arrival.
I avoided looking at them directly. My gaze traveled past the tower to the Little Snake Bridge that straddled the boundary between Sian and Wen, the thundering rush of the Xinzhong River underneath. Beyond that bridge was safety. Home.
One unlucky guard came forward to meet me at the checkpoint, his eyes kept strictly to the ground. “Your identification papers, mistress?”
Without complaint, I presented my papers to the guard.
He ordered one of the other soldiers to come hold up a lantern as he unfolded and examined the sheets twice.
His lips pursed at my place of birth, but he was much too superstitious to make any rude remark. He returned the papers with a curt nod.
“Thank you,” I murmured, hoping he might be satisfied.