Chapter 29
“How is house arrest?” Mistress Ming asked as we walked through the streets of Baimu, examining the wares and produce in the marketplace.
Shortly after Ren’s return to the palace, the wisewoman’s murder conviction had been reversed, and she was free to step foot in Sian again.
While she’d decided she was content to stay in Wen, she’d promised to visit when the last vestiges of winter left the land.
Glossy emerald leaves adorned the branches above us now as I showed her around town for some light shopping.
I waited politely when Mistress Ming stopped at a stall selling various dried fruits and herbs. “It isn’t really house arrest,” I said. “And it’s not as terrible as you’d think.”
As punishment for frightening the citizens of Hulin and trespassing into the palace, the officials had wanted me imprisoned.
But Ren advocated for me, arguing that I’d saved his life and helped prevent a tyrant from stealing the crown.
As such, my sentence was lessened to a year of not being allowed to take on any corpse-driving jobs.
But just because I couldn’t work, that didn’t mean I couldn’t teach.
“The pupils keep you busy, I’m sure,” said Mistress Ming.
“Yes, they do. It was a learning curve at first, but now they’re no longer as homesick, and they rather enjoy the lessons. Especially ones involving chicken blood.”
“Delightful,” she said, smiling dryly. We left the stall and resumed walking through the traffic of shoppers and sellers. “Have you spoken to Prince Renshu recently?”
“Not as much these days,” I said. “He’s been occupied.”
“That he has.”
In the last few months, Ren had accomplished more than anyone could ever expect.
Not only had he convinced his father to make him crown prince—not too difficult a feat considering the king’s declining health, lack of options, and guilt regarding his former consort’s death—but Ren had also kept his promise to meet with the governor of Wen, where they worked together to arrange the state’s official secession.
I’d rather let them rule themselves, he’d explained to me in a letter, so I can better focus on the kingdom in front of me.
“He has a lot to deal with before he becomes king,” I said to Mistress Ming.
“He hasn’t visited?” she asked while admiring the blush-pink peaches at a produce stand. “He stopped by my hut when he traveled to Wen two months ago.”
“No.” I shook my head. “But we exchange letters every once in a while.”
With his father growing weaker every day, Ren had begun to assume his duties as if he’d already been coronated.
He wrote to me about long meetings with the ministers, evenings spent by his father’s bedside, and appointments with magistrates across Sian eager to inform their future king of the kingdom’s many needs.
With so much taking up his time, it was difficult to keep in regular contact, and I’d learned to accept his letters as pleasant surprises.
“Interesting,” said Mistress Ming. “He seemed practically lovesick when I saw him.”
I laughed, the sound coming out strained and awkward. “You’re mistaken, dajie. The prince and I are close, but not—not in that way.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, unconvinced. “Are you sure nothing happened during your travels together?”
In his letters, Ren never mentioned our conversation from that ill-fated night at the monastery.
He claimed to miss me, and he occasionally brought up memories from our journey together, but he said no more than that.
For my part, I felt a mixture of disappointment and relief.
Our lives were complicated enough without our feelings tangling things even more.
My smile waned, and I picked up a snow pea, considering whether to buy a bag just to escape the conversation.
But Mistress Ming wasn’t one to accept cowardice, and neither was I.
So I casually said, “It doesn’t matter. As I mentioned, we’ve both been busy, and I have the monastery and corpse-driving to worry about. ”
“I suppose you’re right.” She motioned to the crate of peaches, prompting the vendor to go find a sack. “Speaking of, I suppose I’ve distracted you long enough from your duties. I’ll browse a bit more; you return to the monastery first.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, brows knitting together. “The pupils are busy helping Lilan in the garden. I’m not needed yet.”
“Well, I need you to bring these peaches back to the monastery for me.” She passed me the bagged fruits, then turned to pay the vendor. “I’d rather not lug it around as I shop.”
I rolled my eyes. “All right.”
Secretly, I was relieved. I’d stayed up late planning the pupils’ schedule for the coming week. While Lilan and the students were distracted, I could finally take a moment’s rest.
Mistress Ming swatted my arm. “Run along, then, girl. I’ll see you shortly.”
The peaches grew heavier as I carried them up the slope to the monastery gate. I daydreamed of when I could sit down and enjoy a cup of ginger tea before the afternoon’s lessons.
But the moment I walked into the courtyard, my plans scattered.
A visitor stood in the middle of the pathway, holding on to the reins of the horse beside him. With his back to me, I could see only a black cloak and dark hair falling past his shoulders. He must’ve just arrived, looking up the steps at the temple’s open doors.
Lilan was still in the garden behind the monastery, so I approached the man with the bag of peaches swinging at my side.
I stopped three feet away and bowed at my waist. “Welcome, sir, to the Moon Cloud Monastery. I’m the head priestess here. Would you like me to take your horse while you visit the grounds?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you speak so politely to me before. I’ll admit it’s rather strange.”
I froze at the voice—familiar and imbued with humor.
I slowly lifted my head and stared at the figure before me, like a specter conjured from my dreams. My eyes traveled up the robe of green silk brocade and the sweeping cloak stitched through with curling gold patterns.
His hair was only half swept up, the knot pinned by a delicate gold crane, which matched the embroidered crest on his chest. He looked nothing like a corpse and everything like a prince, down to the cocky smile stealing across his lips.
Heavens, how I’d missed that smile.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, smoothing the shock from my face. “You should be at the palace. You have so much work—”
“I completed two weeks’ worth of work in advance to come here,” he said, nonchalant. “The officials will be fine without me.”
I tsked. Leave it to Ren to find a way around his hectic schedule so he could make time for leisure.
“But why did you come here?” I asked, my gaze sliding to his horse. It nuzzled Ren’s hand as he stroked its head absentmindedly.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “It’s been a long six months, and I’ve been desperate to see you.”
My cheeks warmed. He’d come all this way for me?
“How long are you staying?” I asked, a little too quickly. A blush prickled my back.
“At least a week,” he said, beaming. “Lady Ming is in town too, isn’t she? It’ll be nice to have us all together again.”
I glanced down at the peaches, wondering if the wisewoman had known he’d be coming. I wouldn’t put it past her to keep a secret for Ren so he could surprise me like this.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Is it safe for you to be here? Where’s your entourage? Your guards?”
He shrugged. “Waiting for me in the village. I assured them that as long as I’m with you, I’ll be where I’m safest.”
His words rooted in my chest, blooming into something hot and golden. To distract myself from the sensation, I gestured toward the residence and started walking past him. “Come inside, then. I was planning to boil a kettle for tea anyway.”
“Excellent,” he said, following. He patted the satchel strapped across his body. “I brought a jar of ginseng.”
I stared at him, shifting the peaches to my other hand. “You despise ginseng.”
“You seem to like it well enough.” He smiled crookedly, scratching his cheek. “And I’ve … acquired more of a taste for it. It did save my life many times.”
At that, I smiled. “My, you’ve certainly grown, Your Highness.”
He paused to tie his horse’s reins around the banister outside the temple. “Why are you calling me that?”
I leaned against the railing. “Calling you what?”
“‘Your Highness.’ I thought we’d moved past that.”
“And I thought you wanted me to speak to you like royalty,” I said, referencing our last conversation at the palace. I ascended the first step and turned to face him. “You’ve earned it, Your Highness.”
He crossed his arms, considering me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t like it after all.”
“A king shouldn’t be fickle, Your Highness. Your people need you to be steadfast.”
“And what do you need, Kang Siying?”
“Pardon?” I stammered, caught off guard by the question. From atop the step, I stood at the same level as his eyes, which gazed back with that persistent warmth.
“I once promised to help you feel safe in your own state,” he said, suddenly soft. My heartbeat shot into a sprint as he stepped close. “I know there’s still much for me to do in terms of healing the nation of Sian and protecting every person who lives here. But tell me, Siying. Do you feel safer?”
He truly wanted to know. He wanted to know that his decision to become king was making a difference for the people he served.
Including me.
“Yes,” I said. “I feel safer, thanks to you.”
“No, not me.” He startled me again by lowering himself to his knees, the hem of his robe spilling across the ground at his feet.
Head dipped, he said, “If this nation is truly safer, it’s thanks to you, Kang Siying.
You saved my life, and you gave me the courage to accept my duty.
The heavens have witnessed the eternal debt I owe you.
Whatever you wish for, now and forever, I’ll grant it. ”