The Emperor's Riddle

by Kat Zhang

  “He’s a strange emperor to focus on,” the boy said. “He was barely on the throne at all. Is he famous in America?”

  Mia squinted against the sun to meet his eyes, trying to decide if he was actually interested, or just being polite. Maybe he was only humoring her until Jake came downstairs. But no, he was waiting patiently for her answer, his eyebrows raised—expectant.

  Haltingly, she told him how Zhu Yunwen’s story was something she’d shared with her aunt. When it became clear that the boy barely knew anything about the emperor, Mia found herself slipping effortlessly into the story. How Zhu Yunwen had escaped from his uncle’s soldiers the night of his supposed assassination. How some people said he’d eventually become a monk, cloistered in an isolated monastery up in the mountains, to better hide himself. And all the while, dreaming, dreaming of the day when he might take power again.

  It was easy to keep the conversation going when she talked about history. Easy to forget to be shy or awkward.

  “He died before he could rule again,” she said. “They probably buried him as a monk by the monastery—”

  She cut off midsentence.

  An idea had come to her. An answer to the riddle she’d pondered so long and hard. She only dared to approach it sideways in her mind, as if afraid it would dart off again if it saw her.

  It didn’t dart off again. Just grew more concrete with every moment.

  The apartment door blew open, almost knocking her off the steps. She scrambled out of the way just in time to see Jake skid to a surprised stop. They stared awkwardly at each other, neither speaking.

  Then his friend pulled him away. As they walked off, Mia heard him say, laughing, “Your little sister’s pretty interesting, isn’t she?”

  She didn’t hear Jake’s reply.

  * * *

  After Mia borrowed her mom’s laptop to do some searching online, she became more convinced that her initial idea was right. She’d figured out the location of the last clue.

  There was only one problem.

  Every time Mia and Jake fought, it was like a stony game of Who’ll Blink First afterward, waiting to see who’d make the first step toward peace. Back when they were younger, it had almost always been Mia—even when it had been Jake who’d started the fight and said the worst things while they were angry.

  She’d always hated it when they weren’t speaking with each other. The silence would stretch inside her like razor wire until she couldn’t take it any longer.

  You have a soft heart, Aunt Lin always said, laughing gently, when Mia gave in. It’s not a bad thing.

  This evening, though, as Mia approached Jake in the hallway, watching him pull off his tennis shoes, she didn’t know what she was going to say. She wasn’t ready for apologies. Most of the time, she and Jake didn’t do apolo­gies anyway. They made up with rolled eyes and only said what was absolutely necessary.

  Jake saw her coming and paused in the middle of untying his laces.

  “Did your team win?” Mia asked. “The practice game?”

  Jake made an affirmative sort of noise.

  She hesitated. Reminded herself that he’d cared enough about the treasure hunt to tell his new friends. That had to mean something, right? If he was secretly embarrassed by it, or thought it was childish, he wouldn’t have talked about it.

  “I’ve almost finished the map.”

  Jake lifted an eyebrow. Encouraged by this sign of interest, Mia continued speaking. “There’s only one piece missing, and I’ve already solved the riddle—it’s Zhu Yunwen’s grave.”

  “His grave?” Jake frowned. “How’re we supposed to know where that is? I thought he ran off and died as a nobody somewhere.”

  Mia shoved an article into his hands. She’d printed it out from her uncle’s computer.

  “You know I can’t read this—” Jake started to say, and exasperated, Mia pointed to the picture of a small, stone pedestal toward the top of the article. An oblong, tombstone-­like object sat atop it.

  “People discovered this a while back, up in the mountains. They used to think it was only a monk’s grave, but that never really made sense, because of decorations around the tombstone. There are dragons, and dragons are an emperor’s symbol—back then you couldn’t just use them for anyone. And the location makes sense, Jake. It matches the poem. It’s by the coast, so there’s water, and it’s up in the mountains—it’s the place the riddle’s talking about. I’m sure of it.”

  She paused as their mother came into the living room, chatting with their uncle. Neither seemed to have heard anything. After a moment she turned back to her brother.

  He hesitated, still crouched on the ground, one shoe untied. “Is it close by?”

  “I’ve looked it up,” she whispered. “It’s too far to take buses, but if we take a train, it’ll only be about forty ­minutes—we can be there and back before anyone misses us.”

  “Forty minutes by train? That’s not anywhere near the city, Mia.”

  She pressed her lips together, then admitted, “It’s in Ningde. It’s another city, kinda northeast of Fuzhou. Forty minutes isn’t a lot of time, Jake—”

  “But it’s far,” he said. “And that’s not counting how long it’ll take to get to the station here, or from the station in Ningde to the grave site. If it’s really up in the mountains, then it’s probably not anywhere near the city. We’ll have to take a bus—if there’s even a bus. We don’t know anything about Ningde, Mia.”

  Mia hadn’t thought about those things. Not in any amount of detail anyway. They hadn’t mattered. The only thing she’d cared about was getting to Ningde—getting to Zhu Yunwen’s grave. Solving the map. Finding the treasure. Saving Aunt Lin.

  Everything else seemed trivial in comparison. Doable, as long as she kept her eye on the goal.

  “I can figure all that out. I have the train schedule for tomorrow—”

  “Tomorrow? No way you’re going tomorrow, Mia.”

  “I didn’t mean by myself,” she said softly. “I thought maybe you’d want to come too.”

  He was quiet again for several long seconds.

  “I know you don’t believe Aunt Lin’s been taken,” Mia mumbled, “but the map’s still real.”

  Slowly, he stood. “I’m not saying I won’t go. I just can’t go tomorrow, okay? I’ve got a game, and they’ll be a player short without me. I can’t abandon them like that.”

  You’re fine with abandoning me, Mia thought. You’re fine with abandoning this treasure hunt—this search for Aunt Lin.

  She’d been stupid to be hopeful. Stupid to think this was nearly as important to him as it was to her, whatever he’d said to his friends.

  Jake leaned down and gripped her gently by the shoulders. “You promise you won’t go alone?” he said. “You promise you’ll wait for me?”

  “I promise,” Mia said.

  Jake stuck out his hand, his face solemn. “Shake on it.”

  So Mia did.

  But she didn’t mean it.

  20

  THE FIRST TRAIN FROM FUZHOU to Ningde left a little after seven thirty a.m. It was, Mia figured, her best shot if she was going to do this alone. She’d wake up early and be out of the house before anyone else had risen. Her mom and uncle would notice when she didn’t come for breakfast, of course, but they’d go to Jake first, and he’d know where she’d gone.

  Besides, her mom might not even wake up until midmorning. It was nearly midnight, and Mia could still hear her through the apartment’s thin walls, pacing her bedroom and doing her Polite but Upset voice on the phone. Another business call had come in after dinner, pulling her mom out of the bathroom before she’d even had time to rinse the toothpaste from her mouth. She’d been shut away ever since. From the way the muffled conversation seemed to be going, Mia wouldn’t be surprised if things lasted until dawn.

/>   It sucked that her family would worry, but that was unavoidable.

  Mia had to do this. Even if they didn’t understand.

  She laid out everything she’d need—a few bills, filched from her mother’s purse, her messenger bag, the now-ragged copy of Zhu Yunwen’s map. Then she set her watch alarm for six a.m. and lay tossing and turning in bed until she fell into an uneasy sleep.

  The alarm shocked her into fretful wakefulness and the pale morning light. She stumbled out of bed and into her clothing, reaching last for the messenger bag, which she slung across her chest. It seemed heavier than usual. She went over the items inside, picturing each in her head: the compass Thea had given her, the box of matches, the sewing kit—

  Oh, and the firework her uncle had bought for her. That was why the bag felt heavier.

  She started to take it out, then changed her mind. It didn’t add all that much weight, and it was actually sort of nice, having something from him to carry with her.

  She tied the bright strands of Aunt Lin’s bracelet, heavily frayed now, to her bag’s strap. And then she was ready.

  Or almost ready.

  Her gaze fell on Aunt Lin’s notebook, lying crooked on the desk. She hesitated. Maybe she ought to leave a note. Even if Jake could tell her mom and uncle everything, maybe it would be better if they had something in Mia’s own words too.

  She sat at the desk, pen against the page, imagining her mother finding this in a few hours when she came to check on Mia and no one answered her knock. Imagining what she might tell her so she’d worry less—so she wouldn’t be angry. What she could write to Jake to explain why she’d had to break her promise to him.

  Nothing came.

  She sat there and sat there as the pen pressed harder against the page, leaving a dark splotch of ink.

  After an eon, she set the pen down.

  She couldn’t do it. There was nothing to say to her mom, or to Jake, or even to her uncle—who was no longer a stranger, not anymore. Because she couldn’t just leave them. Not like this.

  She shoved the notebook away and leaned back, defeated, in her chair. She’d have to wait for Jake to come with her. Then, at least, their mom wouldn’t worry—not if she thought they were close by and they returned before nightfall.

  A knock sounded at the door, surprising her so badly she nearly tipped over in the chair.

  It must be Mom, she thought. But when she opened the door, it was Jake.

  He’d obviously just gotten up—his hair stuck up in all directions, and he was still wearing his pajamas. Even as she stared at him, he yawned so wide she thought he might crack his jaw. But he didn’t seem surprised to find her dressed and ready to go.

  “We should stay for breakfast, at least,” he said as she gaped at him. He smiled, just a little. “Then we can go catch that train.”

  * * *

  The train station was a crush of people. Mia and Jake kept tight hold of each other as they pushed through the crowds. Neither of them made even a perfunctory grumble about having to hold the other’s hand. If they got separated here, they’d never find each other again.

  The train itself was only slightly less crowded. An eclectic collection of people shuffled through the corridors, finding their seats. The briefcase carriers and high-heel wearers intermingled with women carrying baskets full of fresh fruit or spotted brown eggs. A little girl ran laughing up and down the aisles in a pink princess dress, grinning at Mia every time she passed.

  Then came a warning beep on the overhead speakers, and the train lurched from the station. They were off.

  It wasn’t the first time Mia had taken a train in China. She’d sat between Aunt Lin and Jake during the long ride from Shanghai to Fuzhou. But she’d been exhausted then, fresh off a fifteen-hour flight and still smelling of stale airplane air. She’d spent most of the ride asleep, her head lolling against Aunt Lin’s shoulder.

  This time, she’d nabbed a window seat. The landscape flashed by, at first nothing interesting—just a series of tunnels—then widening and unfurling into rolling greenery as they left Fuzhou behind. Mountains rose around them, lush under an achingly blue sky. When the lakes came, they were just as blue, as if two polished mirrors sandwiched the world between them: the mountains, the train tracks, the train, Mia.

  By the time they arrived at the Ningde station, it felt like they’d traveled a lot more than forty minutes away—even if it was forty minutes by high-speed train. Mia realized suddenly, as she stepped onto the platform, how far she and Jake were from the apartment in Fuzhou. From their mom and uncle, who thought they were just visiting another tourist site around the city center.

  “What’re you staring at?” Jake said as he strode past her. He paused when she didn’t answer, giving her a questioning look over his shoulder.

  Mia gripped the strap of her messenger bag. “Nothing,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Unofficial taxi drivers milled around the train station. They weren’t like the taxis Mia saw on television, bright yellow and clearly marked with a sign on the roof. These just looked like normal cars, their drivers rolling down their windows and calling out to passersby, asking if they wanted a ride.

  They found one willing to take them to Zhu ­Yunwen’s grave site, then bartered the price down to something reasonable. Mia wasn’t used to arguing about prices, but they didn’t have a lot of money left, so now seemed like a good time to give it a go. The driver stared at her, amused, the whole time.

  “So, why’re you two so interested in Zhu ­Yunwen’s grave?” he said once they were in his car, swinging around the looping mountain roads.

  “I like history,” Mia said simply.

  He laughed. “And your parents? They don’t like history?”

  “They’re busy today,” Jake said quickly before Mia could reply. “They’re just staying in the city.” He tapped at the car window, gesturing to the swatches of carefully pruned plants flying past. “What’re they growing there?”

  “Tea leaves,” the driver said, latching happily on to the new topic. “One of Ningde’s specialties.”

  The rest of the ride passed quickly, full of dangerously tight turns and his cheerful chatter about tea. Mia twisted Aunt Lin’s bracelet in her hands.

  Soon they were wending beneath a thick canopy of lanky trees, the sun a scattering of fractured yellow light. The driver pulled into a small parking lot and smiled at them through the rearview mirror. “Well, here you are: history.”

  Jake looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. He ushered Mia out of the taxi and reached into his pocket for their money.

  “Where is it?” Mia said, looking around. “The grave?”

  The driver rolled down his window. “Up there—­follow the path. It isn’t far.”

  The woods were peaceful, devoid of people except for Mia and Jake. Devoid of sound, even, but for the whisper of wind through trees and the occasional song from a faraway bird. Everything was green, green, green, spindly trees and tufts of tall grass erupting from every inch of unpaved road.

  It was a far cry from the chaos of the train station. Here, it was like they were alone in the world. It was that feeling, perhaps, that gave Mia the gumption to say, a little shyly, “Thanks for changing your mind, Jake.”

  What she meant was, Thanks for coming with me, but she couldn’t quite manage to say it. Besides, Jake understood.

  “Is your team mad?” she added quickly. “About you leaving them a player short?”

  He shrugged and smiled at her. “Maybe I’ll still make it, if we get back early. If not—well, I told them my family had something important going on. One of them’s got a friend who can sub in for me.”

  Without warning, the path delivered them to an opening in the woods—a series of raised stone daises tucked into a semicircle niche among the trees. At the topmost dais, ensco
nced within a wide loop of thick, stone wall, was the pedestal and tombstone Mia had seen online.

  A shivery feeling danced across Mia’s skin. Here lay the man who’d started everything more than five hundred years ago. He’d been dead about that long too. Yet the ripples of his dreams still rocked her life today.

  Would she, Mia Chen, dream anything that big? Do anything that significant?

  If she did, would she know about it?

  She climbed the stone-cut stairs to the second dais. Twin dragons stretched on either side of the tombstone, just like the article had said. Unlike the other dragons decorating shops and temples Mia had seen since her arrival, these were only vaguely dragonlike. Their bodies were thin and rod-straight, their mouths open in a strange grimace. The designs down their necks, rippling in an imagined wind, seemed more like leaves or ribbons than proper scales.

  Mia ran a hand over one of their sun-warmed snouts. Strange dragons for a strange emperor. Who had buried him here and tried to give him a ruler’s send-off despite his anonymous death? Had they known about his ­hidden treasure?

  They must have, to have instructed someone to hide a clue on his tombstone.

  “Look, someone’s left a clementine for him.” Mia approached the altarlike pedestal supporting the tombstone. She reached out to touch the fruit, then decided against it at the last moment. She wasn’t sure if there were rules about things like that, and the last thing she needed was to offend the very man whose treasure she was after.

  “Come on, Jake,” she said, reaching for their copy of the map. She couldn’t hear his footsteps, despite the near silence of the woods. “You think we should start looking on the tombstone itself, or everywhere around the grave? The riddle wasn’t very specific. . . .”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Jake?”

  She turned, frowning—and froze.

  Jake lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.

  He fell, she thought. He fell and hit his head and—