I swallow. “Thank you,” I say, “for helping me.”
His eyes flick to my palms, swift and assessing. “Your hands are bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, lacing my fingers behind my back.Don’t let anyone see your weakness.
I try not to squirm under the long, appraising look he gives me. I hold my breath right until he inclines his head and turns. Tendrils of clouds curl over his shoulders as he begins walking away.
“Wait,” I blurt out.Why did I see you in the sea? Why did you save my life?Those are the questions I want to ask, but instead, I say, “Why did the Honorable Immortal Shi’ya vouch for me?”
He tips his head toward me over his shoulder. “You arrived at sundown. Therefore, you qualified.”
Trying to glean any information from him is like trying to reach through a wall of ice. So I ask, “How can I thank her?”
“You don’t. The rules are the rules. The Honorable Immortal Shi’ya was merely respecting them.” He begins walking again, and I hear his voice drift over the wind to me: “There is no partiality to the trials. Only those who win and those who die.”
—
The Candidates’ Courtyard is utterly silent when I return; everyone is at the banquet, enjoying themselves. I’m glad for this as I pace along the open-air veranda, rounding the pond to my chambers. When I reach my door, I find a small lacquered box sitting just outside the pool of warm lantern light. I check the box for any poison or enchantments before I pick it up and slide the lid open.
It’s a sewing kit. As I run a finger over the different needles, the hundreds of threads that glow beneath the lantern, Yán’lù’s threats seem to fall away. The world softens, and for a moment, I can imagine the girl who wished to sew oceans. The girl who made the handkerchief.
Caution bleeds into my delight. I don’t know who this gift is from, whether friend or foe, or whether it is simply the magic of the immortal realm that heard my wish and conjured it into reality.
I sense a shift in the shadows behind me. But when I look up, the courtyard is still empty. A gentle breeze ripples the waters of the pond, stirring the lotuses and dappling the moonlight. For a second, I think I see a silhouette beneath the great weeping willow across the water, sense a pair of eyes watching me through the darkness. I blink, and there is nothing but swaying branches.
I step through my doors and pull them shut behind me, making sure to latch them. I mark talismans on the doors and windows.
I place the sewing kit by my pillow. Then I grab Méi’zi’s dress and hold it tightly to me as I fall onto the bed.
Sleep takes me, and I do not dream.
11
Ichose to train you for a reason,my father wrote.
I do my best to remember that as I fail practice after practice after practice.
If I thought the Temple of Dawn beautiful in the dusk, it is even more so during the day. The training halls are all open-air, upheld by columns of marble carved with immortals dancing amidst flowering trees, phoenixes, dragons, and deer. The sun pours in through the gauze drapes, lending a golden shimmer to everything. Outside, beyond the halls and gardens and ponds, white clouds drift into eternal blue skies. Once in a while, I hear the trill of distant laughter, glimpse immortals soaring across the sky, borne on wisps of cloud or the wings of great cranes.
It’s perfect. It’s everything we don’t have in the mortal realm.
For some reason, Fú’yí’s wrinkled old face comes to me, her expression fierce.You let those bastards in the Kingdom of Sky know. You let them know we are still here. You let them know we are still alive.
The immortals are powerful—perhaps more so than the mó. And clearly, if they’re holding this tournament every year, they know there are still mortals out there fighting for survival.
Why haven’t they tried to help us?
“Focus, Àn’ying!”
I blink and find Lì’líng’s large amber eyes peering at me. “I am,” I say.
“You’ve sunk into the pond!” she exclaims, pointing.
I look down to see that I’m up to my knees in water.
Lì’líng has decided to adopt me into her group, and I can’t say that I’m anything but grateful. We haven’t spoken of the incident with Áo’yin, or how she saved my life on Heavens’ Gates, but that cements my trust in her. She could have killed me back when I was weak from fighting Áo’yin, or when I was about to be attacked by Yán’lù’s crony at Heavens’ Gates.
But she didn’t. Instead, she’s spending time training me in qing’gong.
