SU TANG (素醣)

  Day 2, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Shuishang Province, Huadu Sect

  My stomach let out a vulgar grumble that could’ve been mistaken for a distressed ox. The aromas drifting through my room were frankly illegal. Without ceremony, I dove in. Soup first, as etiquette dictated. Then rice, vegetables, meat dishes, and finally the fruity desserts that promised to absolve me of all emotional trauma. By the end, I leaned back in my chair and patted my full stomach like a noble settling in for retirement.

  Then, scanned my collection of books.

  The Ash-Brew Ledger.

  The Complete Collection of Withering Steps.

  Thirteen Shackles of the Heart-Mind.

  Silent Needles: A Guide to Spirit Acupuncture.

  Mr Shen’s Unsolved: Volume I, II, IV, VII—gosh, I need to complete that series.

  There were far too few books to be considered a collection. But most of them were one-of-a-kind, so that must’ve counted for something.

  Usually, eating a warm meal at the end of the day and reading an excellent book of knowledge always helped. And although the elephant in the room hadn’t been addressed, that could be a tomorrow problem.

  “Get out here! Now!”

  I guess it’s a tonight problem. The elephant had decided to arrive and bring their war drum.

  Come on. Let’s get this over with. She’s been mad at you plenty of times before.

  I scrunched up my face. No, this time is different.

  This was not the ordinary angry Ju Ying.

  I cracked open the door like it owed me money. “I’m here.”

  Her hand shot up and I flinched, expecting a slap. Instead, she paused, her hand hovering mid-air like a blade caught in hesitation. And that was worse. I’d prefer that she hit me rather than psychologically torment me.

  Her hand dropped beside her.

  “Why did you have to make such a big fuss?” she demanded.

  I blinked. Seriously? That was how she wanted to start this?

  She glared like her eyeballs had been soaked in hot coals. The lines between her brows had deepened into an entire topographical map, and her lips were drawn thin enough to slice tofu.

  I straightened up. Still a few centimetres shorter than her, but close enough to hold eye contact without tilting my head back like a child. That had to count for something.

  “So,” I said, voice flat, “it’s my fault for what happened today.”

  Her response came swiftly. “Of course! Who else?”

  I scoffed with deliberate effort to be impolite. “Just maybe if you could get past your ego, you’d realise that all this—” I gestured at her dramatically “—was your fault.”

  She crossed her arms and jabbed one foot into the veranda boards like she intended to break them. “I wasn’t the one who violated the rules. You didn’t finish growing the flower.”

  “Tch! If you hadn’t smacked my hand and mucked about, I would’ve finished it.” As If I didn’t plan to finish growing it. Because clearly I wanted to fail.

  “But the fact remains that you didn’t,” she insisted, smug with the kind of logic that only the truly delusional could weaponise.

  Oh, she did not just pull the logic card.

  “Don’t tell me that. You’re a liar. You’ll find any reason to justify your selfish actions. After all, you’re only doing this because you don’t want me to be better than you!” I snapped, heat rising up my neck. “You’re a coward and a—”

  Crack.

  The slap landed faster than I expected. My hand instinctively flew to my cheek, now likely redder than a stewed hawthorn.

  Slowly, I turned my head. Her face was trembling with rage and disbelief. She looked like she’d surprised even herself. Her hands hung rigid by her sides and her eyebrows were knotted so tightly that the creases on her forehead stuck out like sore thumbs.

  Ju Ying had always threatened to slap me. Threatened it the same way she threatened to cut my hair in my sleep or deduct spirit points if I skipped cultivation drills.

  But she’d never actually done it, even when she was so that I thought she might burst.

  Until now.

  “How dare you talk to me like that! I am the Blossom Chief! You will listen to me!” she shouted, the title ringing in her throat like it gave her permission to lose control. Her eyes were red—not teary, just red. The kind of red that comes from staring too long at things you wish weren’t true.

  I quickly turned my head to the side to suppress my tears. I didn’t want her to know that her slap hurt me.

  She sighed with her hands on her hips like I was an overgrown herb that had wilted wrong.

  “You never listen. You’re always so disrespectful and rude,” she muttered, not for the first time.

  They all said that. Lao Zhe said I was like a hurricane—twisting here, flipping there, leaving a mess wherever I stepped. But what they always forgot was that hurricanes clear the air. They break up the stagnation. They carve paths where none existed. And that was how I got here: the youngest registered alchemist in my class.

  I crouched down on the floor, arms around my knees. My cheek throbbed. The night air kissed it like a pitying stranger, but that didn’t do anything to soother. I pressed my forehead into my knees, into my robes. She didn’t deserve my face right now.

  Sighing again, she knelt down beside me.

  “I’m sorry Tang’er. I didn’t mean it.”

  I shoved my face deeper into my knees. Partly out of stubbornness. Mostly to hide how her apology had actually landed somewhere. Because even if her actions were rotten, the apology wasn’t. Her dishevelled hair, her creased sleeves, and the bags under her eyes, told me what her words didn’t.

  She was tired. We both were.

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  But tiredness didn’t mean forgiven.

  Her shoulders moved with a quiet rhythm. She was probably thinking of what to say next. And I sat and waited. Because whatever came next would determine whether we rebuilt anything, or if we left it buried beneath the ruins of our pride.

  Finally, she spoke. “Su Tang. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a proper chat. We need to talk.”

  I didn’t lift my head. “We are talking,” I mumbled into the soft folds of my knees.

  Before she could respond, a foreign voice sliced through the air like a blade dipped in ice.

  “Are you Blossom Chief Ju?”

  The air frosted over. I didn’t need to look up to know the speaker wasn’t from Huadu Sect. The voice had the polished weight of someone used to being obeyed.

  Ju Ying straightened. “Yes, I am.”

  The Half-Immortal who approached was younger than I expected, though her presence didn’t leave room for underestimation. She held a white silk scroll with gold end-knobs, inlaid with pearl.

  And if that hadn't revealed who was the sender of the scroll, the Tian’an Sect’s unmistakable royal wax-seal lay plastered on it. A badge was tied to the Half-Immortal’s waist, with four shining characters engraved into the gold: huángjiāshǐzhě.

  Royal Emissary.

  The emissary bowed from the waist and offered a fist to palm salute. “Greetings, Blossom Chief Ju.”

  Ju Ying tapped me with her foot, signalling me to get up. I gracefully stood up and mirrored the servant’s actions. Even if listening to Ju Ying was the last thing I wanted to do, I wouldn’t lose my dignity in front of a Taishan emissary.

  “At ease,” the Blossom Chief said. “What brings you here today?”

  The Half-Immortal peeled open the scroll with ceremonial precision. “Please accept Her Majesty’s decree.”

  Ju Ying dropped to her knees in an instant, yanking at my skirt like I was some child she’d trained to behave in public. I rolled my eyes but followed suit. If she weren’t my shījiě, and if that envoy weren’t a walking embodiment of imperial threat, I would have kicked Ju Ying.

  The Half-Immortal began to read:

  “Her Majesty, Empress Huangmei of Taishan, is hosting a birthday banquet for His Majesty, Emperor Tai Quan of Taishan in five days.

  Her keen eyes have recognised Blossom Chief Ju Ying’s and Alchemist Su Tang’s talents, and hence charges both with duty of the floral decorations and theming at the banquet.

  Her Benevolent Majesty has given two days to produce a design that will be presented to her by the deadline.”

  Two days. Two. For a royal banquet. And a floral theme? What were we supposed to do in such a brief time? Summon butterflies?

  The emissary rolled the scroll back with the care of someone handling a viper.

  The Blossom Chief bowed, placing her face on the floor.

  “Her Majesty's servant accepts the decree.” She paused, then raised her head slowly, flicking her eyes at me. “However, I suggest another more qualified Immortal should be assigned. Su Tang is only a tier-five alchemist. She is naive and dim-witted. She will only hinder this great honour.”

  EXCUSE ME!?

  Face flat to the floor, I saw red. Ju Ying was lucky the emissary was still here. Although, she wouldn’t be so lucky once the Half-Immortal had left.

  The emissary didn’t flinch. “Her Majesty’s decree cannot be altered.”

  In other words: Sit down and shut up before you end up designing flower arrangements in a prison cell.

  I lifted my head. “Blossom Chief Ju, I am not as stupid and dim-witted as you think. I am capable of doing this meagre task.”

  “SILENCE.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake.

  This wasn’t just a promotion. It was the promotion. A once-in-a-life time opportunity for a small potato cultivator, like me. And she was trying to block it? Again? For what? Pride?

  Even if she didn’t gain cultivation from this, she'd still bask in reflected glory as my senior.

  And let’s not forget—the thing that mattered the most—this was a royal decree. Denying it wasn’t just rude. The was treason.

  I loved stewing trouble as much as the next person, but messing around with the ruling martial sect was equal to playing with fire. Except that they’d already burned your face off and were still greedy for your soul. Ju Ying should know this.

  I lifted my head towards the emissary. “I accept the decree.”

  Ju Ying shoved my head back into the floor, whispering like we were conspiring in a crime. “Do you know what you are doing?”

  “Of course,” I whispered back.

  “Take it back.”

  “I won’t.”

  My shījiě stood and casually pressed her foot into my back like I was a stool. “I know Her Majesty’s decree cannot be altered,” she said, voice all sweet honey and slow poison. “But I’m sure Her Benevolent Majesty would only want the best cultivators of Huadu Sect. Su Tang is disruptive and uncooperative. I’m sure you’ve heard about today’s incident at our ceremony.”

  The Half-Immortal smiled faintly. “It is precisely because Her Majesty wants the best that she selected Alchemist Su Tang.”

  She bent down in my direction. You should thank Her Majesty for noticing a talent like you.”

  Ju Ying tried again, “As her shījiě, I know there are better individuals. I’ll personally bring them to Her Majesty.”

  She gave me a hurried glance. Not even she believed herself at this point.

  The emissary narrowed her eyes. “Better than the winner of the past one-thousand-one-hundred-and-eighty-eight Blossom Cultivation Day competitions?”

  Ju Ying froze.

  The Half-Immortal adjusted her sleeves and turned to the star-freckled sky as if bored of this charade. “Her Majesty is not blind. She reviewed every record. Despite you withholding the title for the past thousand years, it’s evident Su Tang has consistently surpassed expectations for an alchemist of your Sect. Her Majesty is also fully aware of Su Tang’s…temperament. That is why she tasked you both together. Surely you understand her intentions.”

  Ju Ying finally bowed, her posture collapsed. “I understand.”

  The emissary offered a courteous smile. “I will return in two days’ to collect you.”

  Then she politely bowed to the dispirited Blossom Chief, before vanishing in a mist of white.

  The Blossom Chief placed her head in her hands and started pacing like a ghost who couldn’t find the exit. After a few rounds around the veranda, she flopped into a bamboo armchair with all the grace of a collapsing bookshelf.

  “Su Tang, why did you have to say that?”

  My knees were achingly sore from all that ceremonious kneeling, and I gladly stomped to my feet.

  “How is this my fault again?”

  She sat up with the urgency of someone trying to fix a mistake in real time. “If you hadn’t added fuel to the fire, I could’ve bargained with the emissary.”

  “Bargained?” I snapped. “You were this close to committing social suicide in front of a royal envoy just to spite me. You, you—crafted a plan to humiliate me!”

  Her nostrils flared. “I’m trying to protect you! You just—” She cut herself off and sank back into the chair.

  I watched the jade hairpin dangling precariously from her messy bun. It swung like a pendulum. Like her logic.

  Protection? Her favourite excuse. A phrase so overused it should be printed on a robe and given to all disciples. If this was her idea of protection, I was terrified of what her neglect looked like.

  I slammed both fists onto the table. A teacup catapulted off the edge like it couldn’t stand the tension either.

  “What do you want?”

  She rested her head on the table like she was tired of being the villain. Slowly, she lifted it again. The fury was gone. No more raging senior, just an empty calm. Her eyes followed the tea as it dripped off the table’s edge and pooled below. Then she casually cracked her knuckles and began combing out her hair ends.

  “I want nothing,” she said.

  I blinked. That’s it? Nothing? What are you, an immortal sage on a mountaintop?

  “Then why?” I burst out. My voice cracked, which only irritated me more. I hated that I couldn’t best her in wordplay. I hated that she knew something that I just could not wrap my head around.

  She didn’t answer. Just rubbed her temples and looked up at the night sky like it had more sense than I did.

  “You’ll understand one day,” she said.

  You’ll understand one day. That infuriating line people used when they had no real answer. Or when they had one and didn’t trust you with it.

  And understand what? That I wasn’t ready? That she was trying to protect me from some great, mysterious doom?

  No. I’d heard all those excuses before. From masters too old to bother. From jealous seniors who couldn’t stand the idea of a ‘disruptive and uncooperative’ upstart getting ahead.

  I didn’t say anything else. Just stared at her.

  Because if she really wanted me to understand, she would’ve told me. Which meant, somewhere in her cold, well-practised mind, she didn’t want me to. And that was the worst part.

  She toyed with her jade hairpin. “But what’s done is done.”