And everywhere I went, my fingers intertwined with Fuchai’s, my crimson sash flowing over my slender arms, the whispers fluttered after us like petals in the wind:
“She is as beautiful as all the rumors say…”
“No wonder His Majesty cannot bear to part from her…”
“They are a fitting pair, don’t you think? The beauty and the king. I’m willing to bet there will be many poems and plays written about them.”
But the tones with which they gossiped were not always adoring or admiring. There were darker sentiments too, ones I wished I hadn’t heard.
“… did you hear what the servants said, about that time they walked in on…”
“I hear he visits her chambers thrice a day—sometimes early in the morning…”
“She looks so innocent. It’s hard to imagine…”
“… that night, in the middle of the court, with everyone watching—”
“Your Majesty.” The chair creaked as Fanli stood, swaying slightly. There was a misted look to his dark eyes, and streaks of color stained his cheeks. “Please forgive me, but I’ll have to retire early…”
Fuchai took one long look at him, then burst out laughing. “Drunk already? Do you have such low alcohol tolerance?”
Fanli said nothing, just bowed his head in a subservient gesture. Unfailingly courteous, even with all that alcohol in his blood.
“All right, all right,” Fuchai said. Then he swiveled around to me. “Xishi—how about you show him to the guest chambers? He can rest there until the others are ready to depart.”
A shock went through me. I could hardly dare to believe it. “Me?” I asked, half wondering if this was some sick joke, another cruel test of his to see whether I felt more for Fanli than I revealed.
But there was no suspicion in Fuchai’s gaze. He waved his long sleeve good-naturedly. “Yes, you. I trust that you’ll show him how beautiful the palace is.”
So that’s why he’s asking me.He could be so childish sometimes. He wanted to show off, to impress Fanli, rub in the fact that he had the most stunning women and rooms in all the lands.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course,” I said, standing. I swallowed, tried to suppress the giddy tremor in my hands. The king of Wu had constructed the Palace of Beautiful Women just for me, built a promenade with thousands of earthenware jars that chimed whenever I walked on it, changed the very course of the rivers and commanded that a new waterway be created simply because I’d suggested it to him. He had been nothing but generous, given me his heart and time and affections again and again, spoiled me with the finest silks and sweetest cakes and warmest chambers. But I’d never felt so much gratitude toward him as I did in this very moment. And he didn’t even realize what he’d gifted me: time alone with Fanli. Time to speak, to drop our pretenses, to ask how he was. I would not have been so happy even if he’d single-handedly plucked the moon out of the sky for me, if he’d woven me a necklace made of all the stars in the heavens.
I walked over to Fanli, my eyes lowered to the ground. I kept my voice even, mildly polite, the way one would speak to a stranger. “Please follow me.”
His voice was equally neutral. “Thank you, Lady Xishi.”
Gusts of heat swept over the back of my neck as I led him to the main doors. I could sense his gaze on me, the distance that pushed and tugged between us, the space humming between our bodies. The door swung open under my touch, and the cool night air blew toward me, sweet with the faint perfume of begonias. I breathed in.
We were both outside now. Alone. All the noise from the banquet faded away, muffled by the walls. Crimson lanterns glowed softly down the corridors, illuminating every round, latticed window and carved pillar we passed. Bright-painted murals unrolled on either side of us: immortals dancing in rolling clouds and temples suspended on mountains and lovers sailing together down a river on a bamboo raft.
I scanned the empty, narrow paths around us before speaking. “Are you well?” The sound of my own voice startled me; it was not the sweet tone I used around the king to get what I wanted, nor the commanding tone I adopted to intimidate others into obedience. I had almost forgotten what I really sounded like.
“As well as I could be,” he replied. His steps were slower than usual, and his brows were slightly furrowed, as though he was concentrating hard just on walking in a straight line. Surprise coursed through me. I had wondered if perhaps he was faking his drunkenness to get away from the banquet quickly, but now I was certain that it was no act. “No, that’s not true,” he said suddenly with a soft huff of laughter, as if he could not quite restrain himself. I stared. I’d never seen him like this before. “The truth is… and you cannot repeat this to anybody—though of course, of course I know you won’t…” He paused, leaning against one of the polished pillars, his eyes black as midnight, and made a beckoning motion.
My heartbeat picked up. I stepped toward him, close enough tofeel his warm breath grazing my skin as he whispered, “I’ve missed you, Xishi.”
A sharp emotion sliced through me: joy so deep it resembled grief; grief so keen it resembled joy. The two were inseparable. I felt my breathing hitch.
Then, just as abruptly, he was walking ahead again, his head turned back toward me, a half-bitter smile on his lips. “Isn’t it ironic?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the wind in the leaves, the silver splashing of water from the garden fountains. “I only have myself to blame. What is that old saying… cleverness overreaches itself? Cleverness outwits itself? All these years, I’ve prided myself on my intelligence, but—”
I held up a hand before he could say anything else, even though all I wanted was for him to continue. My heart was still beating much too fast, my blood rushing through my veins. “Not here,” I said quickly, checking around us again. Emptiness, nothing but the shadows of the trees. Still, paranoia clung to me. “Come with me.”
My footsteps quickened. We were walking side by side. I kept my eyes straight ahead on the path to the guest chambers, but I felt his cool fingers brush against mine. So quick it might have been an accident. My own imagination. Yet seconds later, his fingertips ran down the line of my palm. Another quick brush, the barest sliver of skin against skin. A small gasp rose to my throat.
I couldn’t help sneaking a glance at him. His expression was controlled too, save for the faintest pink brushing the curve of his ears, creeping up the side of his neck, illuminated by the lantern lights. Yet his hand touched mine again; each time it was the barest, subtlest motion, concealed by the darkness and the flowing sleeves of our robes. It felt like a secret, a quiet rebellion. A stealing from fate, or perhaps a reclamation of what had been taken from us. My skin burned with the private knowledge, tingling in every place his long fingers skimmed over my own.
The guest chambers were tucked away in a remote courtyard. The lights were dimmer here, the grass neatly trimmed, but with no flowers growing. No maids positioned outside the gates.
