by JC Kang
He looked up after he heard her robes rustling away, deeper into the garden. Each time the princess had met an eligible bachelor, Hong worried she might agree to wed. Up to now, he had nothing to be concerned about.
Young Lord Zheng was the only suitor the princess had ever shown any interest in, and he seemed to be doing his best to disqualify himself.
This afternoon, Hong would make sure to remove Zheng Ming from the picture altogether.
Peng Kai-Long stewed in his palanquin as he rode back toward his compound. Like the other great lords, he now travelled with an escort of three dozen guards, even if he knew he was safe. Façades had to be maintained. Nonetheless, their noisy boots rattled his concentration.
Minister Hong apparently had a plan to remove Princess Kaiya from the picture temporarily, but Kai-long preferred a more permanent solution. Now that she’d moved on from Prince Hardeep, she was beyond his control.
He slid open the window and called for his aide-de-camp. “Little Yi. Initiate Operation Scorpion.”
The Ayuri thugs whose services he retained through several layers of intermediaries would finally earn their keep. With them, and the disaffected insurgents he anonymously funded, he could use suspicions of Madura to get rid of Princess Kaiya and guarantee war.
He just had to lure dear Cousin Kaiya out of Sun-Moon Palace.
CHAPTER 8:
Second Chances
The last time Zheng Ming crossed a bridge accompanied by two guards, he had ridden unawares into an ambush. This time, staring at the arched stone bridge between the Sun-Moon Palace grounds and the Tianzi’s castle, he knew he was walking into an ambush, albeit one of a different kind.
He looked up to the sloping, tiled eaves of the fortress across the moat. It loomed seven stories above him, standing in silent vigil over the capital and surrounding plains. With tiers and vaulting eaves, its triangular shape stood out from the rest of the imperial compound’s standard block buildings of white plaster walls and blue tile roofs. If the rest of the palace suggested organized elegance, the central bailey boasted military might.
In the late morning, Minister Hong had sent him an urgent message. The old man had called in several favors and arranged a formal invitation to meet Princess Kaiya. Up to now, no suitor had ever been invited back for a second visit with the Ice Princess.
With a deep breath, Ming smoothed his formal robes and donned his battle face. His two guards followed as he strode across the bridge.
A palace valet, flanked by eight imperial guards, waited on the other side. The valet bent at the waist. “Welcome to Sun-Moon Castle, Young Lord Zheng. Your guards must wait here. Please allow me to care for your sword.”
Ming bowed his head and offered his sheathed dao to the valet.
The man bent at the waist and received the weapon in two hands. “Follow me. Princess Kaiya awaits.”
Narrow paths between steep walls wound clockwise and upwards toward the central bailey. Arrow slits, murder holes, and battlements gave defenders an insurmountable advantage. Even if an invading army made it through the palace grounds, assaulting the castle would result in devastating casualties. Proof of the Founder’s genius. Though in these times of peace, it was little more than a relic from the turmoil following the Hellstorm and Long Winter.
At last, without even entering the main keep itself, he came to one of the gardens and emerged onto a veranda. The mottled trunk of a weeping danhua tree curved up thirty feet, its willowy branches cascading downwards in strands of red blooms. Almond blossom bushes formed a circle around the tree, their own pink flowers pooling at their bases. A fragrant scent wafted through the air, borne by petals drifting on the early spring breeze.
The blossoms seemed to slow their descent, as if listening to the bright and rapidly varying notes fluttering from the pipa nestled in Princess Kaiya’s lap. Similar in appearance to the lute played in the North, it was a hollow, pear-shaped wooden instrument with ridged frets along its neck and upper body.
Her long fingers swam swiftly across its four silken strings. Some sounds roared like a pouring rain, others whispered as the sweet secrets passed between lovers. Sitting at the edge of an ornate bloodwood chair, surrounded by three handmaidens and two imperial guards, the princess appeared lost in her music. She wore a light blue inner dress under a dark blue outer gown with hanging sleeves. With her eyes closed and an angelic expression, she appeared oblivious to his arrival.
Mesmerized by the sound and snowing blooms, Ming’s steps faltered. A cool calm washed over him as he drew near. The perfect curve of her lightly rouged lips edged upward into a dainty smile, like a benevolent spirit.
He’d conquered many women in the past with his looks and charms, including several since his near brush with death on the bridge; but in that instant, he regretted his past, and swore to make himself a better man, worthy of her.
After a moment, he woke from the whimsical reverie. The emotion of the music changed. Unease and uncertainty crept over him.
As she neared the end of her song, Kaiya noted the change in the pipa’s sound. It wrapped around a newcomer on the veranda, whose own breath fell in step with her rhythm. With the fleeting bond between performer and audience established, she smiled.
Kaiya looked up through a half-lidded eye. Young Lord Zheng Ming stood on the veranda. What was he doing here, uninvited? Her throat tightened and the music’s power slipped from her fingers.
A couple of days before, she’d felt an instant attraction, like none other since Prince Hardeep. Perhaps it’d been the full white moon Renyue clouding her judgment. With that in mind, she’d sent Minister Hong to find more about him.
His reports of Ming’s philandering should’ve come as no surprise. All strapping young lords engaged in such behavior. Why was it so... disappointing?
Minister Hong’s confirmation of these reports only strengthened her resolve. She wouldn’t be just another conquest, no matter how handsome and charming he might be. Nevertheless, there was no reason to be uncivil.
No sooner did Kaiya finish her song than Zheng Ming dropped to his right knee, right fist to the ground. “Dian-xia, thank you for sharing your practice with me.”
With a nod, she allowed him out of his bow and beckoned him over. She passed the pipa to the handmaidens, and then motioned them to withdraw to the veranda. “Thank you for listening, Young Lord Zheng.”
He strode over, withdrawing a kerchief from the fold of his robe. He held it at her forehead. “May I?
Audacious. Charming. Her stomach fluttered. At her nod, the imperial guards relaxed. Zheng Ming dabbed her skin.
Heat stirred within her. “I...you are first to hear me play this piece, Eye of the Storm. Can you offer me any critique?”
He pressed the kerchief into her hand. “Unfortunately, I am just a simple soldier, and I have no technical skill in music, and—”
“Surely you have some artistic talent? The Five Classics implore the gentleman to be skilled in both the sword and the arts.”
“I consider myself a decent poet, though you did not give me an opportunity to show off last time we met.” He grinned.
Intrigued, she flashed a smile. “Here is your chance. Tell me what is on your mind.”
He dropped to his knee again. “As the princess commands.” He looked up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I implore you not to be too critical!”
Kaiya caught herself playing with a loose lock of hair and abruptly dropped her hand. She covered a laugh, which sounded too flirtatious to her ears. “I am no more a poetry expert than you are a music critic.”
Zheng Ming took a deep breath and his gaze swept over the garden. He then spoke:
“Storm clouds gather on the horizon,
Dark shades of fear and pain.
Travelers lost without direction
Pelted by unforgiving rain.
A melody hums through somber shade
A shining beacon to guide their way
The path ahead ope
ns to sheltered glade
Beckoning back those led astray.”
Heat warmed her cheeks. He must be alluding to her and the state of the nation. “Is that poetry or politics? You must have heard what transpired in the council this morning.”
“Dian-xia, you said you would not be a critic!” His lips drooped into a facetious pout, sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “You did command me to say what was on my mind.”
“It weighs heavily on the minds of all the hereditary lords and ministers.” And poor Father. Kaiya sighed. “And on the Tianzi’s as well.”
He plucked a flower and tucked it behind her ear, sending a shiver up her spine. “We stand at a crossroads, facing uncertainty for the first time in the three hundred years of Wang family rule. The intrigue of internal politics has intersected with the machinations of foreign powers. It is a shame that the Tai-Ming have sunk to infighting and scheming instead of rising to ensure stability.”
“I believe all the Tai-Ming have the realm’s best interests at heart,” she said. “Unfortunately, they do not agree on whose policies will ensure future prosperity.”
“As long as the Wang family controls Huayuan Province, the Tai-Ming will have no choice but to obey the decisions of the Tianzi.”
Kaiya stopped fiddling with her hair. “I wonder.” The audacity of the lords during the council meeting suggested otherwise.
He nodded emphatically. “It is quite simple, really. With the exception of Huayuan, all of the other provinces are economically interdependent. None could survive on their own.”
Kaiya’s lips pursed. Cousin Kai-Long’s domain had broken conventions. Nanling province could sustain itself. Luckily, none could question his loyalty.
“Furthermore, since Huayuan has half the number of soldiers as all of the other provinces combined, it would take most of the Tai-Ming allying against the Tianzi in order to pose a military challenge. And the Tai-Ming can only meet together in the presence of a council minister. This is how your illustrious ancestor Wang Xinchang established stability in the realm. The political climate may be unsettled, but we are far, far away from a tipping point.”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “I did not think a simple soldier could have such deep thoughts.”
“Even a carp dreams of becoming a dragon.” Zheng Ming’s lips twitched.
“Perhaps that is why you were targeted the other night. I am glad you managed to fight off your attackers.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Because if something happened to me, you would have one less person to discuss politics with?”
Her belly buzzed like a dragonfly’s wings. Why did he have to be so witty? He would be so much easier to dislike if he were stupid. She placed a hand on her chest and tried to imitate his sarcastic tone. “No, because you are a key witness, and we need to uncover who is behind all of these recent attacks. The capital is on edge.”
Zheng Ming flashed a disarming smile. “Well then, based on the evidence gathered by the watch, those who attacked me the other day were financed by the Ayuri Kingdom of Madura.” Doubt weighed in his voice.
“But you do not believe that is the case.”
“No. There was too much evidence, and no motive for the Madurans to attack me. I suspect there is something more insidious. I had just met with Minister Hong Jianbin, who wanted my father to support the Expansionists. Then I was ambushed. It leads me to believe the Royalists tried to silence me.”
She leveled her gaze at him. “So where do you stand, Young Lord Zheng? Royalist or Expansionist?”
His eyes widened in mock surprise. “So direct! Usually, my peers try to coax me into revealing my affiliations with wine and sweet words.”
She found herself playing with her hair again. Bad girl! Kaiya straightened, lifting her chin. “I am the princess, and command you to speak.” Despite her order, her own lips quivered as she fought to suppress her grin. “Where do you stand?”
Zheng Ming bowed his head. “I stand on the Great East Gate of the Wall in my home province, and look out on the vast untamed lands of the Kanin Plateau. Its pristine beauty, so unlike the manmade splendor of this palace, seems to be a metaphor for our debate. To expand into it means to tame and bring order; but that in itself will destroy what makes it beautiful.”
“Spoken like a politician!” She caught herself exposing the side of her neck with a tilt of her head. “I want a straight answer, Simple Soldier.”
His lips quirked up. “The Wall protects our land borders, our dominant navy defends our shores from a sea invasion. I see no need to expand as long as the people are content. Enlarging our borders beyond the Wall means stretching resources thin to protect them, as I can tell you firsthand from my experience in Wailian County. So you can say I am an anti-Expansionist though not necessarily a Royalist.”
“Is that supposed to be a straight answer?”
He laughed. “Had I known we would be discussing politics, I would have come better prepared. I was led to believe that we would share poetry and tea.” He gestured toward a gazebo overlooking the lake. “Shall we?”
Led to believe? He wasn’t supposed to be there. Still, poetry and tea in the gazebo sounded appealing. She looked up at the iridescent moon. Hopefully, time constraints would give her an excuse to get away from him before she forgot all about his reputation and succumbed to his charm. “Alas, I am afraid I must beg off your invitation. Lord Peng invited me to watch a shower of shooting stars from his pavilion tonight. I do hope the skies clear.”
“All of the great hereditary lords and their families will be there,” Zheng Ming said. “Perhaps I will see you.”
Her jittering stomach leaped into her chest, and words slipped out in spite of her better judgment. “Then maybe you would ride with me? An escort of three dozen imperial guards will surely offer better protection in these unsettled times.”
“I would be honored. I shall meet you at the moat in two hours.”
Kaiya clapped her hands together. “I look forward to it. It will be my first time leaving the palace grounds since all the chaos started.”
CHAPTER 9:
Audacity
The nearly-full white moon Renyue hung low in the early evening sky, lighting Liang Yu’s path to Jianguo Shrine. To think, a shrine dedicated to national peace was where he received instructions that undermined the Tianzi’s authority.
Such paradoxes didn’t matter to a patriot. Hua had grown complacent and weak. As the Founder once said, the gourd that rots within is easily smashed from the outside. The Expansionists must prevail, lest foreign powers enslave the motherland.
As Liang Yu walked, he took mental note of the changes since his last visit: Fewer birds now nested in the plum trees. The scent wafting from the shrine spoke of cheap incense. The white pebbles’ scatter pattern suggested the groundskeeper had been distracted when raking the path. Had he skimped on incense quality, pocketing silver to afford a gift? A new lover, perhaps?
This ability to notice a thousand details and draw connections between them resulted from years of rigorous training at the legendary Black Lotus Monastery. Liang Yu had been one of the Moquan, the mythical Black Fist Warriors who, according to frustrated mothers, would kidnap disobedient children in the middle of the night.
In reality, they were the Tianzi’s fiercely loyal spies, whose skills in stealth and swordsmanship bordered on the impossible. One of the three most talented Moquan in his youth, Liang Yu had been betrayed and left for dead during an operation in the Ayuri City-State of Vyara thirty-two years before.
He’d returned to Hua five years ago as an importer, under an assumed name. It turned out spying skills translated well to business, and Hua’s aggressive trade policies didn’t hurt either. Yet it also exposed him to the dark underside of immoral mercantilism: the bribes, corruption, and greed that would drag the country into decline.
Now forty-nine, Liang Yu pondered these things, all the while assessing potential danger along his rou
te. Nothing amiss. He continued until he reached the grove of plum blossom trees that surrounded the temple grounds. The flowers had passed peak, and now only a few stragglers desperately clung to limbs as they watched their fellow petals fluttering like warm spring snow. Hundreds of pieces of folded paper competed with the blossoms for space on the low branches, tied by those who hoped their written wish would come true.
He silently recited the one-hundred-twenty-third poem from the popular book Poetry Anthology of the Yu Dynasty. Comparing it with a numbered code his anonymous employer had provided, he came to the correct tree and branch and looked for the specific type of paper his benefactor always wrote on. He retrieved the correct note and squirreled it in the folds of his robes, then set a brisk pace back to the Phoenix Spring Inn.
Liang Yu found the inn especially empty this night. With few prying ears, its location made for a perfect meeting place. That, and the attractive proprietress who sometimes shared her bed with him.
A glance around the common area revealed nothing suspicious. He continued on to the private room. Settling on one of the cushions arranged around the table, he unfolded the paper and read the first few words of the sloppy script.
The scare tactics have not done enough. It is time to make a louder statement with an assassination implicating Madura...
He continued reading. His employer was moving quickly, ready to take a bold step. An actual kill. Liang Yu pursed his lips. Not enough resources to make this brash move. Perhaps if he made the kill himself. The order gave meticulous time and location details.
Up to now, all of the missives had been unerringly accurate. Liang Yu, in whom suspicion was well-trained, often wondered how. By consideration of means and motives, he had already narrowed his employer’s identity down to eight possibilities. He would find out soon enough.
In the meantime, he had an assassination to plan.
Hong Jianbin peeked out from his palanquin, baffled at Princess Kaiya’s weak resolve. He had been certain she would order the imperial guards to expel the philandering Young Lord Zheng from the castle after his unannounced visit. Yet there she was, riding with the fop as the imperial procession made its way toward Lord Peng’s pavilion.