Chapter 16
I could feel Ren grow still, but now wasn’t the time to explain the complexities of his father’s actions. Instead, I looked around at the quiet street, then back at Li Feilin and her mother.
“The traitors—I mean, those men—all came from Xiatang?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Feilin. “The border is close by, so we remember what it was like to travel between the states and live alongside our neighbors in Wen. Many of us supported their appeal for autonomy. My husband and the others—their plan was to march toward the capital, gathering signatures for a petition to share with the king. But they’d hardly passed Lingshu when the king’s army attacked. ”
My surprise grew. The rumors had been that the rebels openly threatened the king with violence. That was why the military had gotten involved. It seemed the truth was much more twisted.
I glanced at Ren, wondering what he was thinking behind his drawn expression. It bothered me that, in that moment, I felt more concerned for his well-being than about his family’s crimes.
“If your men were killed farther north, why did imperial soldiers come here five months ago?” I asked Feilin.
“A month after my husband’s death, the soldiers were sent here as a warning. They came in the middle of the night, bearing torches as if to set our town on fire.”
I examined the houses around us. The sky had grown dark, the streets lit vaguely by candlelight through open windows, but I could still see enough to recognize the unharmed roofs and structures of the town. Clearly, the soldiers’ plan had failed.
“How were you able to defend yourselves after the loss of so many men?” I asked.
“We didn’t,” said Feilin’s mother, with something like reverence. “Master Zhang did.”
“Who’s Master Zhang?”
“Our former town leader,” Feilin said. “He—”
“Not out here,” her mother interrupted, glancing at the old man across the lane and a woman rushing home with a lantern in hand. “We shouldn’t speak of such grim events in the middle of the street. If you must tell the story, Feilin, bring your guests inside.”
The younger woman nodded and gestured toward her home. “Please, mistress, if you and your companion would be so obliged.”
I wasn’t entirely comfortable entering her home, having not yet agreed to help Feilin with her husband’s burial rites. But Ren and I had come to investigate an evil spirit, and as luck would have it, we’d found people willing to share information. I had to say yes.
I dipped my head in assent and followed the pair into their home, Ren close behind.
The house was modest but clean, with a few candles illuminating the dry herbs strung on the wall and a small bowl of rice soaking in water.
Feilin led us past the cooking area to a crudely carved table with matching stools.
A wilted chrysanthemum sat in a vase in the middle.
Despite the candles, I shivered against the cold sensation of being watched by something in the shadows.
Mistress Li returned to the worktable, where she finished chopping leeks for dinner, the thump of the cleaver sounding like an executioner’s ax. It was normal, and yet everything about Xiatang felt wrong somehow. Unease crawled along the walls of my stomach, sending a warning I couldn’t decipher.
“Would you like some tea?” Feilin asked. The flickering light emphasized the gauntness of her cheeks, and I wondered again at the shared frailty of the town.
“Please don’t trouble yourself,” I said. “We don’t intend to stay long. You were telling us about Master Zhang?”
Feilin nodded, hesitant. “Five months ago, when the soldiers came, Master Zhang was out in the fields beyond the gate. He suffers from insomnia, so it isn’t unusual to find him wandering during ungodly hours.
Unfortunately, he chose the worse night to be there.
He was the first to be killed by the soldiers.
“The watchtower alerted us all to the danger that was coming. We raced from our homes and crowded in the streets, anticipating the need to flee. But the soldiers never touched our gates. Before they could, Master Zhang had already sent them all into the pond.”
“I thought Master Zhang was killed,” I said.
“The spirit,” Ren reminded me softly.
I blinked. Of course. I’d been so focused on the details of Feilin’s story that I’d nearly forgotten the reason we were in Xiatang. A dreadful suspicion prodded my mind as I questioned the connection between the spirit and the listless townsfolk.
“You’ve heard the rumors, then,” Feilin said, looking at Ren. “It’s true. Our town is haunted by our former leader’s spirit. But he isn’t evil. He protects us.”
“He killed an entire platoon.” Ren arched a brow. “No matter his reasons, those deaths are on his hands.”
“We would’ve died without his help,” she retorted, defensive.
“What about the families of those soldiers? Surely they were innocent, as you are.”
I placed a hand on Ren’s arm before he could say anything too damning. His argument wasn’t entirely wrong. In any kind of battle, someone was always left to suffer; it’d be unfair to pretend every violent action was just.
But we were here to seek help, not make enemies. And the last thing Ren needed was to seem like a loyalist in a town full of residents hurt by his father.
“I understand your gratitude toward your town leader,” I said, addressing Feilin. “We came to request his aid as well. Do you know where we can find his spirit?”
“You came to see Master Zhang?” Feilin’s annoyance dispersed as she stared at me. “Whatever for?”
“That’s a rather private matter. But it’s urgent.” If my suspicions were correct, the town needed my help as much as I needed theirs. But I wouldn’t make any judgments until I had proof.
Feilin looked at Ren again, wary. “You’re not here to punish him, are you? Can ganshi priestesses do that? Torture a spirit, I mean?”
“No,” I said. “I can’t. I’m not here to inflict pain. If anything, I’ve come to bring Master Zhang peace.”
“I thought you needed his help.”
“It’s a … mutual proposition.” I smiled, patting Ren’s shoulder. “Despite my companion’s earlier comments, we’re not here to punish anyone. We’re here to benefit both sides.”
“What of my husband?” asked Feilin. “Will you help him too?”
“Yes,” said Ren, surprising us both. I cast him an inquiring look, but his gaze remained fixed on Feilin.
“Perhaps I spoke insensitively, but that doesn’t mean I condone what happened to the men in this town.
Since it’s a royal decree that prevents their bodies from returning home, I promise to change that law by petitioning the king myself. ”
I studied Ren, something like admiration warming my chest. He was undeniably attractive when he spoke so sincerely and with such conviction, nothing like the boyish jokester I was accustomed to.
“How are you confident that he’ll listen?” Feilin said, bringing me back to my senses. “He never has, and neither will his officials.”
Ren hesitated. “I … spent a lot of time in the palace. The king knows me.”
Feilin exchanged an uncertain look with her mother across the room.
“He used to work there,” I said, thinking quickly. “As a painter. The king commissioned his work often.”
Hope lit up Feilin’s ashen face. “Really? Then perhaps you can change His Majesty’s mind.”
“Of course,” said Ren, nodding very seriously. “But first we need your help in locating Master Zhang.”
“Very well.” Feilin wrung her hands on her lap. “But Master Zhang is difficult to find. We don’t see him often. Sometimes we’ll glimpse him by the pond or in the fields or resting in an unexpected corner. Sometimes we won’t see him for days.”
“I’m sure we’ll find him,” I said, undeterred by the fact that we were chasing a wandering spirit. “We’ll start with those locations you mentioned.”
“Did you mean what you said to Li Feilin?” I asked as we walked along the empty streets of Xiatang. I peeked over my shoulder every so often, expecting to see the shadows move.
Ren glanced at me. “You don’t have to lie so much, you know.” At my confused look, he explained, “You told her I was a painter. I know why you did it; I appreciate your help. But I’m sorry you’ve had to lie for me so many times.”
“I’ve grown accustomed to lying,” I said, my staff tapping against the cobbled road. “It’s the only way to survive in this kingdom.”
“I don’t understand.”
My thoughts flashed to Mistress Ming and the bundles of candy and seeds I’d transported to her in the past year. I bit my lip, then confessed, “I may have … carried certain things over the border and sold them … before.”
Ren shot me a startled look. For an instant, I thought he’d berate me for committing such an obvious crime. What had possessed me to be so honest with him—to want to tell him the truth? I might as well have held out my wrists to the local magistrate.
But then he laughed. “You’re a smuggler?”
“Out of necessity,” I said defensively. “You know I need the money. And my clients are happy to pay.”
His grin was annoyingly charming. “You realize the irony, considering your holy calling, yes?”
“Yes, I know. Laugh all you want. But I don’t regret what I’ve done, in case you’re thinking of turning me in. My family needs me, and I did what I must.”
“I don’t plan to turn you in.” Ren recomposed himself, his smile now tinged with melancholy.
“I’m just sorry you had to act so desperately.
To answer your previous question, yes, I intend to uphold the promise I made Miss Li.
And I hope to change things for you too, Siying.
After all you’ve done for me, you deserve to feel safe in your own land. ”
I didn’t respond immediately, taken aback by his declaration.
In all my years of resenting the royal family, I hadn’t imagined that any one of them would care about what I thought or needed.
But Ren seemed genuinely intent on repairing the past—for my sake and others’.
And strangely enough, my heart was inclined to believe him.
I pointed my staff at him. “I’m holding you to that promise.”