“I know.” I looked up at the faint sunlight filtering through the leaves. “It’s too early to travel right now. And we need food. You stay here, and I’ll go purchase supplies from the village nearby.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, already pushing to his feet. He moved stiffly, still sore from his encounter with Chunhua, but at least he no longer needed my commands to help him walk.
“Did you not hear me?” I gestured toward the sky. “It’s broad daylight, and you’re wearing a Fu talisman. The villagers are bound to notice.”
“I can hide it,” he said, flipping the reanimation talisman backward onto his head. Then he swept the hood of his cloak over his forehead, simultaneously holding down the talisman and shadowing his eyes. “See?”
“And what if people recognize you?”
“They won’t,” he said, confident. “Before I enlisted, I’d never stepped foot outside the palace. The only person in Wen who’d know me is Lady Ming.”
I sighed. “It’s still too risky. Besides, what if you—”
“Bring misfortune to the villagers?” he guessed, smilingwryly. “I’m not actually a corpse, Mistress Kang. What bad luck can I possibly give off?”
I felt plenty cursed already.
Ren pressed, “Please let me come. I’d be so bored here. And what if I’m attacked by angry ghosts again? Or a tiger?”
“What kind of soldier are you if you can’t even defend yourself?”
“The kind that falls in his first battle,” he said shamelessly. “Besides, I’m a prince. One, I might add, whom you need alive.”
I hated that he knew my weakness. And that he was now staring at me with such pleading eyes. Grabbing my sack, I said, “Fine. But you must stay silent and keep your head low while we’re in the village.”
Looking smug, he tightened the cloak around his throat and matched his pace with mine. We made our way through the forest’s underbrush until we hit the main path. From there, it was a half-mile walk to the village.
The arching gate over the village’s main road bore the settlement’s name carved into hand-painted wood: Xiuxi. The red and green paint was faded, chipped in some places, but the familiar construction was comforting. As were the people milling about, busying themselves with their morning routines.
Though I wasn’t fond of social interaction, I didn’t mind blending into a crowd dense as this one. I felt contentedly invisible instead of overwhelmed, another drop of blood in a warmly beating heart. All around me, mothers carried babes in bamboo baskets on their backs, some leading lines of children like baby ducks behind them. Vendors hawked their wares down the streets, their friendly shouts mingling with the din of conversation and oil sizzling in large black woks.
I followed the flow of the crowd with my peach staff inhand, the iron bells tinkling softly against each other. My teal priestess’s robes, though wrinkled and scuffed from travel, drew the curiosity of several passersby, who dipped their heads in respect as I walked past. But their attention was fleeting, soon distracted again by the activity around them.
Above the chaos, brightly painted houses climbed toward the sky, gabled units stacked one on top of another with sun-bleached roofs. Drying laundry hung from open windows, and small gray finches perched along the worn, upturned eaves. Some dared to swoop down at the glimpse of a crumb fallen from careless fingers.
My own stomach grumbled as I was bombarded by the smells of steaming sweet bread, barbecued pork, and seared vegetables. Xiuxi was a popular rest stop for travelers, and the locals knew how to entice hungry customers.
Ignoring the stands shouting for my attention, I stopped only in front of tents selling transportable produce, as well as the general store, where I purchased a small sack of rice and strips of dried meat.
From my periphery, I watched Ren for signs of trouble. But he appeared satisfied with gazing at the bustle surrounding him, eyes wide and curious. It was the first time I’d seen such an open expression on his face. A smile began to touch my lips before I caught myself. What was wrong with me?
“Come,” I said, leading him away from the store. “We have one more stop to make.”
“Where?”
“The apothecary’s shop.”
It was a place I disliked visiting, no matter what town I was in. Ren, however, was visibly eager to see more of the things he’d missed while growing up inside the palace walls.His enthusiasm would’ve been endearing if not for the fact that he’d been raised in luxury while the rest of us struggled to feed our families.
As if the gods had heard my thoughts and were prompted to tease, a commotion interrupted our path to the apothecary’s. The shop was located at the opposite end of the village square, an open space lined with wooden walls for local bulletins and businesses that spilled out their doors. I could’ve easily cut through the traffic if not for a crowd that had gathered in the center of the square.
At the heart of the offending mass, several young men stood on an open-roofed caravan, passing out flyers that must’ve taken days to transcribe. They wore the dusty blue and tan tunics of commoners, their faces flushed from the vehemence of their cries.
As I analyzed the crowd for an opening to pass through, I heard cries of “loyalty to self” and “freedom for the people.” So these men were separatists seeking support against the crown. Seeking soldiers to fight.
Prior to meeting Liu Chunhua, I would’ve sympathized with their call. For years, Wen had been pushing to become an independent state from Sian, blaming cultural differences and the monarchy’s neglect. It was true that the king of Sian cared little for Wen except for when it came to the crops and taxes the state had to offer. When the fainting-fever epidemic hit Wen, the king did nothing. When floods and typhoons struck from the South Sea bordering Wen, the king sent nothing.
Only when the citizens of Wen proposed secession did the king mobilize his armies—to quell the growing rebellions.
