I head downstairs to tidy up in our small kitchen nook, then prepare my mother’s dinner with the utmost diligence. One part rice to ten parts water. In go a dash of salt, a bit of diced ginger, some finely chopped green onions—exactly how A-Ma used to make rice porridge for me when I was sick as a child. I would spring for a bit of chicken to place on top, but meat has become increasingly difficult to come by since the emperor’s decree. Rationing for the army, now that we’re deep into wartime.
As I scoop the porridge into a big bowl for my mother and a smaller one for myself, I cannot help but glance down at my hand. The truth of the matter is, Iamcurious. But I have my own reasons for not setting out after my Fated One. I’ve thought of doing so many times before, yet I can’t seem to find the courage. It’s hypocritical of me, I know. A-Ma’s failing health just happens to be a convenient excuse to stay home.
Threads of fate are red, unbreakable, and linked to the other half of a person’s soul—destroyed only in death.
But my thread is a dull gray and fraying before my very eyes. It’s been in this state for as long as I can remember, lacking the warmth and crimson shimmer of magic that I see with so many others. I have never seen anything else like it before, nor do I know what it means.
Frankly, I’m too afraid to find out.
2
According to legend, they were a family of three.
Rare, considering how their kind was known for their solitary and distrustful nature.
And yet, as the story goes, these mighty creatures adored and protected the lands and all those who resided within.
His Majesty, the red dragon, king of the mountaintops and the endless skies above, bestowed upon the people fortuitous rains in the dryer months and plentiful sunshine in those that were colder.
Her Majesty, the green dragon, queen of the bamboo forests and golden wheat fields, graced her people with bountiful harvests and plenty of game.
His Royal Highness, the blue dragon, young prince of the sparkling seas and iridescent rivers, gifted the people with calm waters, endless schools of fish, and rare pearls for those brave enough to dive down and claim them.
For centuries, the dragons lived their lives in peace and prosperity.
And then a stranger arrived from the lands beyond the horizon.
3
Finding customers in wantof my…uniqueservice is a surprisingly difficult affair. Most people don’t believe me when I say I can help them find their Fated One for the low, low cost of ten bronze coins or a quarter of a silver nugget.
Any higher, and they claim I’m a charlatan.
Any lower, and they claim I’m a charlatan.
Even when they agree to my price, some still call me—surprise, surprise—a charlatan.
I receive referrals from time to time through my happy customers, but it’s hardly a steady stream of income. I’ve only just started matchmaking as an official business, and my reputation has yet to truly precede me. There are many who doubt my capabilities, scoffing at the mere mention of magic and threads of fate.Tall tales for children,they say. And why should they take me at my word when they could simply go to the local matchmaker, who has a proven track record and sway within the community?
But I digress.
The sun has not yet risen when I wake the following morn. My mother sleeps soundly, lying on her side. She claims it’s easiest for her to breathe that way. Carefully, I abandon my blankets anddrape them over her brittle body for warmth before pulling on my outer robe to combat the frigid morning air.
I head downstairs, collect the four full coin pouches from my secret cache beneath the floorboards. It’s where my father used to hide the teahouse’s earnings from would-be thieves. I have since adopted it as my own. I count out every bronze coin and silver nugget as I hastily brush through my long dark brown hair and pin it back in a high bun tied by a thin piece of red ribbon.
In the Northern Kingdom of Xue, most men and women alike wear their hair in such a way, for cutting a single strand would be a slight against the beloved parents who gifted us with our healthy locks. It’s why the most popular hauls of the traveling merchants are of sparkling hair clips and pins. The merchants make an enviable profit, certainly more so than my teahouse. The richer folk up in the Pearl District can afford to dress their hair with gold and silver, rubies and jade. The rest of us settle for lengths of ribbon; the more vibrant the color, the more expensive the dye—and therefore the more you have to pay for such a luxury.
Once every coin is accounted for, I set out to see Doctor Qi before first light.
His shop is on the other side of the city near the markets, located in a rickety old shanty house. The whole structure leans slightly to the left, its foundation having been chipped away by decades of exposure to wind and rain, slowly sinking into the muddy, frozen remains of the emptied lake. Two small dragon figurines carved from bamboo sit atop his doorframe, diligently warding off evil.
I spot the doctor inspecting the rickety hinges of his shop’s front door.
“Ah, just the man I was looking for,” I say with a big grin. “How are you on this fine day, Doctor?”
Doctor Qi glares up at me, his one dead eye pivoting slightly to the left in its socket. “Must you always be so loud, boy?”
He’s a little stump of a man, coming up no higher than my chest. I have been told that the doctor was once incredibly handsome, with long black hair and the strength to move mountains. But I’ve always known him to be bald, scowling, and hunched over so severely his back is practically folded in two. Were it not for the cane he carries around, I doubt he could manage even two steps without falling over his own feet.
