Hào’yáng.Two characters that could meanbright sun,or…
I inhale sharply.
Vast sea.
“Wait,” I begin, but he’s gone already, and I’m alone in a clearing surrounded by water and flowers and the last, warm glow of sunset.
—
It feels surreal to step into the lantern light of the Candidates’ Courtyard and to find Lì’líng, Tán’mù, and Fán’xuan seated at one of the waterside pavilions, enjoying platters of delicacies for dinner. Most candidates have returned from theirtraining, but the sound of conversation around me is a dull roar.
Hào’yáng.
The One of the Vast Sea.
It can’t be a coincidence that he’s helped me twice now, that he is linked to the judge who vouched for me, that I saw him in the ocean that day. Whether it was real or a dream, Bà sent me here to look for him, and I am at the precipice of unraveling one of my father’s secrets.
I fiddle with my jade pendant as I make my way toward where Lì’líng, Tán’mù, and Fán’xuan sit, scanning the faces of the candidates I pass, looking for signs of something off, of anyone missing. With our free schedules, quite a few have not yet returned to our quarters—but it hits me, with the force of a physical blow, whoisn’there.
Yù’chén.
My insides grow cold.
“Àn’ying!” Lì’líng calls, leaping up and waving at me with a radiant smile. The sight of her sends a sharp pang of guilt through my stomach. A candidate was murdered, there is danger within these temple grounds—yet I can’t speak of it without being implicated in the investigation.
I hesitate, and that’s when a loud, reverberating sound fills the night.
Gong…
Light streaks across the skies like a shooting star and a messenger appears, carried by wisps of cloud and shimmering in the pale silks and lamellar of the Temple of Dawn. “All candidates are to report to the Hall of Radiant Sun!” he calls.
The refectory is immediately in an uproar. Chairs scrape,plates clatter, and there’s a commotion as candidates scramble to flee to their chambers and grab their weapons before they head to the Hall of Radiant Sun. They think it’s the announcement of the Second Trial.
I stand, feeling the solid weight of my blades tucked into my dress.
“Come on!” Lì’líng squeals, grabbing my and Tán’mù’s hands. “Come on, Fán’xuan!”
The Hall of Radiant Sun seems to drink in the moon’s fluorescence at night. The golden curving eaves and bejeweled pillars gleam in soft lantern light as we file in. Guards in the identical white-and-gold uniforms line every pillar. I search for Hào’yáng—but he is nowhere to be seen.
Shi’ya, too, is conspicuously missing. Only four of the Eight Immortals are present. I study their faces as they recline on their thrones, looking for hints of unease or any emotion at all—but it is like trying to gaze into a bowl of clear water.
Though there is one person I’ve been searching for who is here, and my gaze goes to him like a moth to flame.
Yù’chén leans against a pillar at the very back of the hall, arms folded in an almost indolent manner. As though sensing my gaze, his eyes cut to mine.
I make straight for him, ignoring the way my pulse picks up at the sight of him. He is very still but for the glint of his gaze, his face an indecipherable mask. It isn’t until I’m right in front of him that he speaks.
“Come to make a monster of me again?” His voice is low.
I lean forward until we’re almost touching. My hand slips to his side—and I dig Poison in against a soft dip in his rib cage. He draws a sharp breath and freezes.
“Move or make a sound, and you’re dead,” I whisper.
“Mm. Scorpion that you are,” he murmurs, but to his credit, he stays where he is.
“The gate. Did you close it last night?”
I can’t see his face, can’t make out anything in his voice. “I closed it,” Yù’chén says, “last night. Feel free to go and check if you’re so keen to believe me a liar.”
