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I smiled faintly, pushing the qin aside. My mother had neither skill nor interest in music, which was why it had been Ping’er who instructed me.

She sat down, clasping her hands on the table. “You don’t seem fond of our guests.”

“Just one in particular.” I tilted my head toward the window.

“Why don’t you like Master Haoran? He is well-mannered and considerate.”

I had no real cause to dislike him. It was just a feeling, like the shift in the air from an immortal’s aura, the prickling sensation of being watched. And, as Liwei had said, I should trust my instincts … or at least not silence them in favor of what I wished were true.

I did not want to be right; I did not want any danger to come to our home.

“He is guarded. Tense, as though he is hiding something,” I explained haltingly. “Whenever I ask him a question, he deflects it, moving the discussion from himself.” Evasion was something I was attuned to, having spent years concealing my identity.

“Maybe he is unused to company. Some people feel uncomfortable talking about themselves; some prefer to listen.” My mother added, “Master Haoran is afraid of you. Do you realize how you look at him? Eyes pinched, lips curled.” She touched my hand gently. “Xingyin, I know you’ve been hurt. If you suspect everyone, you might eventually be proven right—but you will end up disappointed nonetheless. Sometimes, by treating others with mistrust, you invite it upon yourself. By refusing to see the good in them, you might lose something precious that you never allowed yourself to find.”

Her words rang true. These days I caught myself finding a sneer in a smile, menace in a frown. Searching for enemies in every shadow.

She rose, smoothing out the folds of her robe. As her palms grazed the cloth, the tips of the embroidered silver lotuses glinted brighter. Was it a trick of the light? I did not think it was her power; it had never manifested in any other way.

“I came to tell you Shuxiao is here.”

My spirits lifted. Apart from Liwei, she was my most frequent visitor, and always welcome. “Where is she?”

“In the dining hall, plaguing Ping’er for food.”

I headed there at once. The floor was paved with gray stone tiles, covered with a silk carpet in shades of violet. A round table with curved legs rested in the center of the room, surrounded by barrel-shaped stools. The rosewood was inlaid with iridescent mother-of-pearl, forming scenes of flowers and birds. Eight could fit comfortably around the table, and in my childhood I never imagined the day would come when it would be too small.

A warm, savory aroma wafted from the food already laid out: a thick soup brimming with chunks of meat and sliced lotus root, whole eggs stewed in herbs, tender pea shoots, fish fried to a golden crisp, and bowls of steamed rice. Simpler fare than in the Celestial Kingdom, yet rich with flavor. Master Gang took the stool beside my mother, while the sisters from the Golden Desert sat on her other side. Master Haoran was absent, as he had been for the past week—though his jars of wine were on the table, our cups already filled. It was an excellent brew tinged with the sweetness of plum. Though I still doubted his tale, his skill as a winemaker had not been exaggerated. The last few nights I had emptied my cup without hesitation, falling into a deep and untroubled sleep, although I awoke in the mornings with an ache that pounded at my skull.

I filled two bowls with lotus-root soup, then made my way to Shuxiao. Though she smiled, it did not reach her eyes. “What is troubling you?” I wasted no time in pleasantries, sliding one of the bowls toward her.

“Things have been tense in the Jade Palace,” she admitted. “The new general keeps a tight rein on us.”

“General Wu?” The minister’s recently acquired title was stiff on my tongue.

She nodded. “With General Jianyun sidelined, General Wu is now the real power behind the army. He is rigid and harsh. Rules are enforced to the strictest letter, with punishments meted out for the slightest offense. It’s considered a lapse of our duties to converse with another, even during mealtimes. Now we just sit there in silence, not daring to look at each other, like we’re children again with the fiercest tutor in the realm.”

An army divided is easier to control. An unwelcome thought. Was the Celestial Emperor wary of the soldiers uniting against his will again? The soldiers had not realized their support of me could be seen as a challenge to the emperor—they were ignorant of what I had done to earn his wrath. My true defiance of the emperor that day, my calculated misinterpretation of his command to bring him the pearls, was something only the two of us knew. And likely, the newly elevated general, his most trusted advisor.

“Is that the worst of it? Quiet mealtimes?” I spoke lightly, trying to brighten her mood despite my own reservations.

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s hard to keep track of the rules when new ones are added each day. Soon, it will be an infraction to leave the palace without permission. I won’t be able to visit then.”

The thought unsettled me. How things had changed since I left the Celestial Kingdom. How I would have chafed beneath these restrictions. The worst punishment I could recall was a stern rebuke from General Jianyun or Wen—I recoiled, casting aside the unwelcome memory. “What happens if you ignore the rules?” I asked.

“Kneeling. Confinement. Lashings.” Her voice cracked over the last word.

My fingers clenched around the bowl. “You must be careful.”

“Oh, I am. I’ve never been so circumspect before,” she said with feeling. “But they seem to be keeping a close eye on me, particularly after General Wu’s elevation.”

“Why?” When she did not reply, I probed, “Is it because of our friendship?”

She looked down, stirring the soup with her spoon. “It is others, seeing threat where there is none. It changes nothing; I will not pander to them.”

Remorse gripped me. This was what I had dreaded all this time, that she might come to harm for simply being my friend. “If things are that bad, if they’re looking to punish you, why stay?”

“I can’t leave yet. While I serve the emperor, my family is safe. We have no powerful friends who would speak for us should trouble arise again. My younger brother hopes to join the army when he comes of age, and if I resign, he will lose the chance.” Her gaze turned distant. “Sometimes, steering clear of trouble doesn’t keep you safe. Pebbles by the side of a path still get trodden by careless feet, and idle words carry too much weight when whispered into the wrong ears.”