Character Index

  Zhou Yunqi: The Emperor.

  Sir Yang: An old eunuch who served Emperor Xuanzong and now serves Yunqi.

  Zhou Ying: The previous Emperor. Posthumously titled Emperor Xuanzong.

  Zhou Xianchun: An Archduke, the seventh son of Emperor Xuanzong. Yunqi's brother.

  Zhou Chenqian: A young prince, son of Grand Prince Kuang.

  Zhou Kuang: Posthumously titled a Grand Prince, older brother of Yunqi and Xianchun.

  Empress Dowager (Wise Consort): Yunqi's birth mother. She was posthumously titled Empress Dowager (which does not stop there from being a living Empress Dowager, the mother of Kuang).

  General Shu: Yunqi's maternal grandfather. He was forced to commit suicide after his son plotted to kill Kuang.

  Shu Yunsong: Yunqi's maternal uncle. Plotted to have Kuang killed in order to put Yunqi on the throne and stop the persecution of the Shu clan. He succeeded but was forced to commit suicide.

  Ashina: Personal name Ibilga, Princess of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

  Derin: Ashina's lady-in-waiting.

  Geleng: A Pugu warrior and herder.

  Dulan: A Pugu warrior and herder. Childhood friends and relatives with Geleng.

  Shelun: A prominent Pugu clan leader who wants to usurp Heli.

  Heli: The young Pugu Chieftain.

  Tuhezhen: Heli's nephew, deceased.

  Sima Qi: Currently going by Zhu Shiwu.

  Tiezhen: A prominent Pugu clan leader.

  Anagui: A prominent Pugu clan leader.

  Sitting on the floor by his bed, Yunqi barely noticed as Sir Yang announced Wenyuan’s arrival. His thoughts were still fixated on the old eunuch’s words from a few minutes prior.

  “I have seen many such cases among consorts and even in your forefathers. So long as you continue to be troubled by the same problems, the symptoms are unlikely to go away.”

  Which meant he was only going to get worse, didn’t it? Yunqi tried in vain to sort his panic and his predictions, the two tangling together into a painful knot. It could just be a one-time thing. It could also be the beginning of something far worse. Hadn’t that happened to Emperor Xuanzong? Multiple times, the man had acted in ways that were nothing short of insane, dooming his own legacy and children.

  And I don’t even have a son yet.

  Cold fear convulsed in his stomach. If Yunqi died or became unable to rule, would Xianchun seize power? Even if he adopted Chenqian now, the boy had no more claim that Xianchun did.

  And all the Archdukes from Father’s generation–

  Why so soon? It had barely been a few months since Yunqi had taken the throne.

  “My liege?”

  Yunqi shook himself out from his terrified thoughts at the familiar voice.

  “Wenyuan?”

  Wenyuan quietly knelt down next to Yunqi.

  “My liege, I heard you were unwell.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Yunqi said hollowly.

  “Could you tell me about what happened?” Wenyuan’s voice was soft, almost similar to that of a healer examining his patient.

  For some reason, Yunqi found himself pouring out his fears and frustrations in a jumbled mess, rambling and repeating himself until he had run out of things to say. There were a great deal of things he couldn’t talk about, not directly, and he stumbled around them like a drunken man trying to get home. Wenyuan remained silent, only nodding encouragingly every once in a while.

  Finally, Yunqi fell silent. Wenyuan, in that precise manner that he took up in times like this, seemed to flip through his thoughts before speaking.

  “I think you don’t need to be too concerned about this,” Wenyuan said.

  “Do you think so? But Father, near the end, he–” Yunqi cut himself off, afraid of changing Wenyuan’s conclusion but also afraid that the conclusion was wrong.

  “My liege, you’re worn out from handling court affairs,” Wenyuan said soothingly. “Your mind is distressing you in your sleep as a reaction to being overburdened–think of it as a cry for help.”

  “I can’t help but feel that this is what I deserve,” Yunqi said, the sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger. “Brother died because my uncle wanted me on the throne. I…after what I have done…and to think of what I did all this for! By the gods, it’s a curse!”

  Wenyuan’s eyes crinkled in concern, and he moved closer to tentatively place a hand on Yunqi’s forearm.

  “My liege, you must not think of it as such,” Wenyuan said firmly. “You are self-flagellating because of a misguided conscience. What are your dreams about? Do you remember?”

  Yunqi shook his head.

  “If someone was truly wronged, they would confront you from beyond the grave,” Wenyuan said. “We know very well from the records that an angry ghost would clearly express themselves to you in a dream, and you would be able to remember the admonishments after you wake. Since you do not remember, then you are not being haunted. Yet, even the ghosts of commoners can return to haunt someone they have grievances against. How can a member of the Imperial family, who has greater divine blessing than others, not be able to return if they wished to? The fact that this has not occurred simply means that they do not have grievances against you. Your Majesty is the only one who has a grievance with yourself.”

  Hope stirred traitorously in his chest, even as a voice screamed for him not to be a coward and take the easy way out.

  “Is that really how it works?” Yunqi demanded. “Why, then, do I feel so afraid?”

  “Because you have changed history,” Wenyuan replied. “What man would not be afraid when directly intervening in something so much larger than himself?”

  A tightness unwound inside Yunqi’s chest as he let Wenyuan convince him.

  “I changed history?”

  “Of course you did,” Wenyuan said, with such certainty that Yunqi couldn’t doubt him. “You’ve changed it for the better. Everyone is benefiting from it, except for you. You’re too kind, Your Majesty. You needn’t punish yourself like this.”

  “But I am afraid,” Yunqi said. “Terribly afraid. I woke up in a fright and nearly harmed my consort. Even my father never–he never–”

  He cut off, unable to continue. His mother’s pale face flashed before his eyes, and Yunqi let out a shuddering breath.

  Wenyuan’s hand tightened on his arm, a firm and reassuring presence.

  “But you didn’t hurt her. That’s what matters, my liege. And as for being afraid–you are afraid because you are courageous. The strong sun casts dark shadows. You’ve faced down the impossible, and now you’re facing an unprecedented change in the development of this dynasty. How many people could possibly withstand such pressure? Yet it is precisely because you can endure what most people cannot that you will be the one to lead us into a new era,” Wenyuan said.

  “Do you really believe that?” Yunqi asked, feeling small and foolish for his weakness.

  “Yes,” Wenyuan said, conviction blazing in his eyes. “Yes, my liege. I do.”

  The last dregs of panic unraveled from Yunqi’s ribcage, and he found it in himself to pat Wenyuan’s hand.

  “Wenyuan, what should I do?” Yunqi asked. “Sir Yang thinks that these symptoms will continue until I have resolved the troubles in my heart. But I…even with your words, I don’t have the strength for that.”

  “It’s because you’re using all of your strength on the country already,” Wenyuan said. “So please, draw on the strength of the people around you. You should try to talk about what troubles you with people that you trust. If you have a nightmare, you should seek comfort and assurance. Please don’t make that face, my liege. It’s not weakness, it’s part of being human. Do the ancients not say, refine thyself, unify one’s family, rule the country, bring peace to all under heaven? Needing to refine oneself is the sign of a good ruler, not a weak one.”

  “I can’t stand talking about it,” Yunqi said. “And I can’t speak of it anyhow, not without risking anything.”

  There was a brief silence as both of them thought of Emperor Xuanzong.

  “That’s alright,” Wenyuan finally replied. “A journey of a thousand miles starts beneath your feet. It takes time to heal, my liege. Though I would never dare to impose, please know that I am always at your service.”

  Yunqi felt a rush of fondness for his younger cousin. “Thank you, Wenyuan.”

  They sat in silence for a moment as Yunqi slowly pieced his thoughts together.

  “I want to hold a Buddhist prayer ceremony for Father,” Yunqi said quietly.

  “Then you should do so,” Wenyuan replied.

  “But it would seem strange, as if there was some reason why I should need to hold a ceremony especially for him. As if I doubted that he had sufficient good karma to reincarnate well.”

  Wenyuan mulled it over for a second.

  “Then how about this, my liege? Hold a ceremony for your brothers. So many of them died of unnatural causes,” and at this Wenyuan ducked his head in shame. “It would not be strange for Your Majesty to wish for a prayer ceremony in their honor. And in the spirit of filial piety, Emperor Xuanzong and your mother the Empress Dowager should also be included in the prayers.”

  “An excellent idea!” Yunqi clasped Wenyuan’s hand. “Yes, of course! It would please me greatly to offer prayers for my poor mother and my brothers too, you’ve thought of everything.”

  Wenyuan offered a small smile.

  “I wish I could do something for my grandfather and uncles too,” Yunqi admitted. “I hate my uncle for what he did, but I can’t bring myself to resent him completely. He did it for himself, but he also did it for me. And my grandfather was innocent in this…his only crime was not noticing what my uncle was up to. But–I can’t mourn them, yet I can’t not mourn them either. They were—they–”

  Yunqi cut off, shaking his head.

  Wenyuan didn’t immediately reply, only gently patting Yunqi’s arm.

  “If Your Majesty wishes for it, I can arrange for a separate ceremony to be held for them outside of the capital,” Wenyuan said.

  “Do they deserve it?” Yunqi asked bitterly.

  “I wouldn’t know that,” Wenyuan said. “Their sins are not easy to judge. But you deserve peace.”

  Yunqi blinked past the stinging in his eyes.

  “Then do it,” Yunqi said.

  “As you wish, my liege.”

  Yunqi managed a smile, but it faded along with the warmth in his chest as his gaze sharpened. The glow of being understood cooled with the belated realization of what it meant.

  Wenyuan had known Emperor Xuanzong just as well, if not better. He’d known what to do, what to say, and how to get Yunqi into the seat of Crown Prince. Wenyuan had suspected that the Shu clan was involved from the moment he’d gotten to Kuang’s household–Yunqi knew this now that he had access to the Bureau’s records. But Wenyuan had also known almost exactly how to play the situation to disqualify Xianchun. It had worked–perfectly so–and to Emperor Xuanzong’s detriment.

  And now he knew exactly what to say to Yunqi.

  There was such a thing as someone who knew you too well, Yunqi thought to himself, especially when you had the future of the country in your hands.

  His eyes pinned Wenyuan into place, scrutinizing the man’s open face. And found nothing but a tired man who had dragged himself out of bed in the middle of the night to offer comfort to a paranoid Emperor. Eyes still puffy with sleep, Wenyuan didn’t even seem to notice he was being subjected to a silent interrogation.

  Yunqi relaxed.

  You brought him here, Yunqi scolded himself. You asked him to say these things.

  “Thank you, Wenyuan,” Yunqi said warmly, an unspoken apology for an unnoticed affront.

  Wenyuan bowed his head. “It is my honor, my liege.”

  Kayla tugged uncomfortably at her collar as she made her way down the steps of the Emperor’s quarters.

  “My lord.”

  Kayla glanced up to see Sir Yang holding out a cup.

  “Oh, thank you.” Kayla gratefully took a sip of the hot tea. Just what she needed. Her fingertips and toes were both freezing cold.

  “Thank you,” Sir Yang said suddenly.

  Kayla started. “It’s only what I should do.”

  Sir Yang was watching her with an incomprehensible look on his face.

  “You must have been surprised, being called so late at night,” he said. There was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite place. Kayla stilled, scanning his face.

  Does he think I’m taking advantage of the Emperor’s vulnerable state? She peered at Sir Yang, trying to see into his mind. Does he think Yunqi that foolish?

  The Emperor’s final scrutinizing glance at her before their parting had not been that of a man who could be easily swayed. Even when he received comfort that he himself had asked for, Yunqi was silently appraising everything with the cold strategic calculation of a ruler. She did appreciate that much–it wasn’t the irrational suspicion of Emperor Xuanzong, nor was it the blind trust of a naive fool. But Yunqi didn’t need an old eunuch’s wary concern, especially not this one’s.

  She sized up the wizened old man. Funny that Sir Yang was suspecting her–given that he had betrayed Emperor Xuanzong, who he’d served since the late Emperor was still a child. He wasn’t any better than Kayla.

  Without a father or a ruler one is no better than a beast.

  That applied to both of them, didn’t it? Except that Sir Yang was now trying to play the good guy.

  “The Emperor has always been kind to me,” Kayla replied.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “You handled that very well,” Sir Yang said.

  So it wasn’t suspicion after all.

  “It would do him a great deal of good to know he could rely on you,” Sir Yang added.

  “I am, as always, at His Majesty’s service,” Kayla said humbly.

  “That’s good,” Sir Yang said. “You always seem to find the right words.” Just like her, he wasn’t just thinking of Yunqi.

  What was she now, a professional Emperor handler? Kayla absently wondered if that was something she could get a license for.

  Yes, accompanying a ruler is like accompanying a tiger, but actually it’s easy, Kayla wanted to say. You just have to say the right thing to keep yourself alive. And then do it again and again and again.

  Not that it would do Yunqi much good–Kayla wasn’t a therapist. What good was relying on her? Look at what had happened to poor Emperor Xuanzong. She hadn’t been of help to him. If anything, Kayla suspected that she’d made him worse.

  She accepted Sir Yang’s words with a slight inclination of her head.

  “I’ll escort you out,” Sir Yang offered.

  “No, please stay with the Emperor,” Kayla said. “I insist.”

  He bowed in goodbye, and Kayla was left to make her way through the dark Inner Palace, following the steady steps of a young Imperial Guard who held a swaying lantern that cast a sole spot of light amidst the shadows.

  A nagging worry at the back of her mind squirmed its way into the tissue of her brain.

  What if Yunqi really becomes unstable?

  He was still young, still in good health. They’d be saddled with him for decades yet.

  She pushed that thought away as much as she could, trying and failing as if she were keeping a rowdy toddler away from a bowl of candy.

  Yunqi was anything but fragile, no matter how it seemed on the surface. How many others could have emerged from decades of being crushed underfoot to take the throne? Just look at Xianchun–he hadn’t even been put under house arrest, merely obfuscated from politics for a few months, and the veneer of pride and confidence was slowly peeling away from him in flaky bits.

  Still, there was too much at stake. The reforms that could save or destroy the lives of millions. The stability of the court. The survival of Kayla’s own family.

  Emperor Xuanzong’s ghostly presence seemed to linger just beyond the soft edges of light cast by the lantern.

  The consequences of your own actions justify your fear, he silently taunted her. And if they don’t come for you, they’ll come for your children. Just like they did for me.

  The same cold fear gripped her as it always did when she thought of the unborn child in Ashina’s stomach and the princess’ imminent ordeal.

  What if childbirth killed her? It was unlikely, given the presence of a healer, but it wasn’t impossible.

  What if the child died? That was far more likely. Both Ashina and Derin had made their peace with it, but Kayla found herself nauseous with horror. She didn’t want to think about it–an infant too small to survive on its own, slowly turning blue in a too-big cradle–the most likely scenario was a far cry from the chubby child she had dreamed of.

  Yet even if the child survived coming into the world, could they survive the world Kayla was reshaping? She silently lowered her eyes to the cobblestones beneath her feet, following the rhythmic marching of the Imperial Guard’s heels.

  Why did childbirth have to be so dangerous?

  Why did life have to be so fragile?

  Why were good things so easy to destroy?

  It was the same mix of disgust-fear-horror that Kayla felt back in her old world when she swept up decapitated mice and crushed bugs in her workplace. The revulsion wasn’t towards death or its debris, but towards how easy it was to kill them. Whatever instinctive urge she had towards preserving life turned ugly and barbed towards the creatures that died so easily, putting their deaths on her hands.

  She glanced back over the looming darkness of the palace buildings and quickened her steps away.

  Geleng trudged through town towards Dulan’s house, nodding as people shouted greetings to him. It made him uncomfortable. He was still the same old Geleng, but people seemed to see him differently now. They saw what they wanted him to be, not what he actually was.

  And what did they want? A replacement for Shelun now that they no longer wanted to overthrow Heli?

  It all just made Geleng sick to his stomach. Somehow, it had ended up as Geleng predicted. Heli’s popularity was growing–there were even those who said now that Tuhezhen’s murder must have been justified in some way, or why would the gods intervene when the Pugu tried to punish the act? No one even tried to deny that it had happened. Tuhezhen’s murder was common knowledge by now. The only difference now was that they were slowly starting to praise Heli for it instead.

  Poor Tuhezhen. The nauseous feeling of when Geleng had first seen Tuhezhen’s corpse was back. But who could he blame? Geleng had been the one to mention the displeasure of the gods. Again, that bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn’t intended for his words to lead to this.

  Then again, Geleng also hadn’t meant to set off the dissident movement, but that too had spiralled out of his control.

  It was true, he was displeased with Heli’s actions and didn’t think the teen fit to rule. But he had overlooked how angry his people already were.

  And this time, he had made the same mistake. He had overlooked their fear.

  An epidemic that wiped out over half the livestock in town–it was a matter of survival for many households. It had come out of nowhere, and now the horse doctors were fixing it after Heli called them. Geleng supposed it wasn’t strange that people saw this as a sign.

  Divine intervention?

  He smiled caustically. Geleng didn’t think so.

  The merchant caravan. With its broken wagon wheels, the perfect unlucky coincidence to strand them here.

  Zhu Shiwu. The pathetically innocent boy who Geleng had brought into town himself–a silent explanation of the boy’s presence to the townsfolk that removed him from suspicion.

  Geleng thought back to Heli’s nervous, flushing countenance when the young Chieftain had first faced the crowd. If it really is a conspiracy, then Heli would at least be better prepared to face his people, wouldn’t he?

  Or perhaps a clever ploy for sympathy. If that was the case, it certainly worked. Geleng mulled it over some more, shaking his head. No, not a ploy. Heli was just genuinely a terrified, inexperienced child. But had it been the boy’s own courage that brought him to face the public, or had it all been part of a larger strategy?

  The whole thing exhausted him to even consider, and yet Geleng couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling into the same tracks over and over.

  Almost as if it were fate, his path crossed with Zhu Shiwu just as he was thinking about the kid.

  “Geleng!” Sima Qi greeted the man cheerfully, a bounce in his step. He actually liked Geleng–the man had been kind to him, even if each scenario they’d met in had been carefully manufactured by Sima Qi.

  “Oh, Zhu Shiwu,” Geleng said. There was something guarded in the man’s voice. That was unusual. People didn’t guard themselves against Sima Qi either until it was too late for them or too late for someone else.

  “How are your livestock doing?” Sima Qi asked.

  “Fine, just fine,” Geleng replied.

  “That’s good to hear,” Sima Qi said.

  Geleng’s lips curled upwards slightly, but his eyes didn’t crease. Some part of Sima Qi’s brain stilled, focusing intently on the anomaly.

  What was that?

  Sima Qi blinked, realized that the look in Geleng’s eyes had been suspicion, and blinked again.

  Fuck.

  Of course it was Geleng–the man who had pieced together Tuhezhen’s murder–who was now piecing together the truth.

  Crisis was imminent. He could feel its steely taste on his tongue.

  Now. Act now.

  Every instinct screamed for him to grab his knife and kill the man right there and then, but reason–and fondness–won out. Geleng needed to be convinced of some other narrative. Something other than the truth.

  Sima Qi’s mind spun, piecing together a million bits of memory and observations to form an impromptu lie that would salvage the situation.

  “My horse is still sick,” Sima Qi said with a petulant note in his voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Geleng replied. “Are you doing alright otherwise?”

  The casual concern wasn't necessarily a good sign, Sima Qi told himself.

  “It’s not too great for me,” Sima Qi admitted. “The caravan isn’t charging me for living costs right now given the circumstances. If they do want to charge me, I won’t have enough money, so I’m glad. But I feel more pressured this way.”

  “If they are acting in decency, it would be wise to accept it in good faith,” Geleng advised him. “If they ask for something you cannot give in repayment, stall until you reach a town and you will be likely to find help there.”

  “I will, thanks,” Sima Qi said. He heaved a sigh.

  “Who would’ve thought that all this would happen?” Sima Qi asked unhappily. “If the horses hadn’t taken ill I would be halfway home already.”

  He hurriedly gave a shy glance to Geleng. “I mean no offense, this is a nice town, but…”

  “I understand,” Geleng said thoughtfully.

  “No place like home, right?”

  “Indeed.”

  “What are the horse doctors saying?” Sima Qi asked.

  “It might be a problem with the hay we stored,” Geleng said. “They’ll give the animals medication and the Chieftain will replace our feed for us. Of course, he’ll do it for your horse as well.”

  “Oh, that’s pretty nice of him,” Sima Qi said, working as much naivete into his voice as he could manage. “Isn’t the medication expensive though?”

  “The feed’s much more expensive,” Geleng said with a half-shrug. “The medication they’ll use is actually pretty commonplace–just the common blend we use for infections. We just don’t stock up on it in such large quantities since it’s rare that so many horses take ill at once.”

  There it was–his opening. Sima Qi jumped in without hesitation.

  “I actually passed a caravan selling herbs for livestock on my way over,” Sima Qi remarked. “If only I’d known, I would have bought some medication off the merchant for my own horse.”

  “Oh? A caravan?” Geleng’s gaze was now piercing.

  “Yeah, about halfway over,” Sima Qi said innocently. “Funny though–I told him that my horse was snorting weird but he chased me off. Even if he didn’t want to bother with recommendations, he could’ve at least let me buy something. What kind of merchant doesn’t want to sell his wares?”

  He shook his head incredulously.

  Geleng’s eyes narrowed into blade-like slits.

  “What kind of merchant was it?”

  “A Western Turk caravan passed through just two days ago.” Who had said that again? Dulan or Geleng? It was one of the two, but both definitely knew of it.

  “A Turk of some kind–oh, but not from the North. I think he was from the Western Khaganate though, given his coat. You know the really pretty kind with the colorful stripes they import from Samarkand–”

  Geleng cut him off with a curt nod. “Yes, I know.”

  “Yeah,” Sima Qi finished lamely. He shrugged, then glanced off with the slow wandering gaze that always made him look younger.

  “It’s too bad,” Sima Qi said, his voice tinged with regret. “If only I had known to insist–”

  “Forget it,” Geleng said, his voice a little rough. There was something wild in it, close to breaking through. “It’s not as if you would’ve known what to buy.”

  “I guess not,” Sima Qi said bashfully. “I didn’t own a horse until I was twenty–didn’t even know what to look for, but I got lucky.”

  Geleng smiled thinly, a forced expression.

  “Well, I still have to tend to my animals, so…” Geleng said.

  “Oh, of course! I’m so sorry for taking up your time,” Sima Qi said earnestly.

  “Not at all, I’m sorry I can’t speak more with you,” Geleng said, his tone increasingly strained. “I’ll be off first.”

  The man strode away, something stiff in his pace as he made his way through the snow.

  Sima Qi very carefully withheld a smile.

  The fish had bit the bait. Geleng had pieced together a new story for himself, a new version of what had really happened.

  Good.

  Geleng marched back to his own house, his promise to meet with Dulan entirely forgotten. He finally came to a stop before his horse pen, where he alternated between furious pacing and leaning against the fence.

  The Western Turk caravan.

  It was just conjecture. It could just be a coincidence.

  Geleng bit the bait until it bled dry.

  A Western Turk caravan had passed through just a few days before everything had started going wrong, and they hadn’t been selling wares.

  What had they been carrying?

  Geleng didn’t know. He didn’t even take notice, never thinking it important. But the one thing he did know–they’d only stopped at Tiezhen’s home.

  Geleng had noted it, but he hadn’t thought about it until now. He’d been suspecting Heli. Why hadn’t he considered the other possibility?

  That Shelun, Tiezhen, and Anagui did this.

  Given how badly they’d bungled their response, so as to lose influence instead of gaining it, Geleng hadn’t even considered this to be the case. But men made careful plans and then completely failed to execute it in favor of infighting often enough. This would hardly be the first such case.

  The traitors, Geleng thought with horror. Just for their own ambitions they would throw us all beneath the stampeding horde!

  Heat pooled in his stomach, a burning sensation that churned its way upwards through his torso. It stopped there as Geleng stopped for a moment to reconsider the situation.

  Since when had he started suspecting Heli? From when things started going too much in the boy’s favor. Then when had he started suspecting Shelun? When Zhu Shiwu’s words had alarmed him.

  And that brought him right back to the start–when had he started suspecting Heli? It was when things started going too much in Heli’s favor after Zhu Shiwu and the merchant caravan showed up.

  So this could also be part of the plan

  He sighed, all the more aggravated now. There was no one he could speak to about his suspicions–his entirely unfounded suspicions. Bringing them to Shelun was the last thing Geleng would do. At the end of everything he would just be discarded, everyone having gotten what they wanted.

  Geleng slowly ran a hand down his chin. Theories aside, something was wrong with what Zhu Shiwu had said.

  But what?

  He ran their conversation through his mind again.

  Ah. Of course.

  Too many details.

  Geleng couldn’t even remember what specifically the kid had said, just that it hadn’t sat well with him. Almost like the boy was holding up a sign saying “not suspicious”, inviting more suspicion–perhaps it would have worked just fine on someone else, but not on Geleng, who was predisposed towards overthinking.

  What is he trying to distract me from?

  Were the merchants and Zhu Shiwu indeed behind the mysterious illness that had inflicted their horses? Or were they merely agents who seized upon an opportunity to sway opinion in favor of Heli?

  Or, more likely, they really were just a merchant caravan and a young man with a tendency to overshare, and Geleng was suspecting innocent men for nothing.

  He sighed, turning a forlorn gaze up to the heavens.

  At this point, did it matter if it was Heli or Shelun behind this? Did it matter if this was a natural disaster they were taking advantage of or a manmade one engineered to favor one leader or another? In the end, men like Geleng meant nothing to them. Their masters cared even less.

  Do they think we’re fools? They were fools, he bitterly lamented. Like Dulan, like countless others, they would be fooled every time because they had no other choice. They could be squashed like bugs beneath the thumbs of their rulers, what could one do other than to look away from the giant finger overhead to worry about next month’s meals instead?

  Dissidents or traitors or whatever, we’re not the ones who have betrayed Heli. Whether it’s Heli or Shelun, they’ve betrayed us.

  The real traitors sat in warm houses with gold in their purses.

  Then what the fuck are we?

  Their anger meant nothing and their lives meant nothing.

  The sound of blood swooshing in his ears got louder by the moment as Geleng turned the thoughts this way and that in his mind. There was a strange throb that ran down the left side of his abdomen, lightning fast shoots of not-quite-pain that zipped down his veins into his toes.

  Geleng wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, the heat of fury in his chest warding off the chill of the winter wind. He barely even noticed when Dulan approached.

  “Geleng,” Dulan called out to him. When Geleng gave no response, Dulan came closer, peering at his friend.

  “Geleng, you alright?”

  Geleng stood like a statue, his hands clenched around the railing of his horse pen.

  A little unsettled, Dulan carefully took another step forward. “Geleng?”

  Finally, the other man gave a response, speaking without ever looking away from the seemingly random stack of hay he’d fixated on.

  “They’re playing us for fools,” Geleng said quietly. There was something in his voice that set off every warning bell in Dulan’s head at once.

  Dulan stilled, watching Geleng with worried eyes. “Geleng, what–”

  “They’re playing us for fools,” Geleng repeated, “but by Tengri I’ll make them pay the price for it.”

  With that, he pushed himself off from where he was leaning on the fence and marched resolutely into the night.

  Dulan stayed where he was for a moment, frozen. A terrible foreboding had clawed its ways up his ankles, locking his knees in place. It took him a long, frightening moment of swallowing icy air for him to disentangle his legs from its clutches.

  “Geleng, wait!” Dulan called after his friend’s retreating back, stumbling slightly over a lump of ice beneath the snow. “Hold on!”

  He ran after Geleng, heart in his throat.

  Cultural Notes

  托梦/Ghosts and Dreams in Ancient China: In addition to beliefs in the existence of ghosts in Ancient China, people also had dream-visions of the deceased, often in cases where they needed to pass on a message or to intercede in something.

  常人之所不能忍/Endure what most people cannot: An Ancient Chinese proverb referring to admirable resilience, it's part of a two-part saying, "He who can endure what most cannot can also accomplish what most cannot."

  修身齐家治国平天下/Refine thyself, unify one’s family, rule the country, bring peace to all under heaven: A Confucian saying that determines the values that a ruler should adhere to, and the order in which they should be done for maximum stability. This also applied to the educated class to some degree, as they had the responsibility and potential to contribute to the latter two tasks and thereby also to handle the fundamental tenets of refining the self and unifying the family.

  千里之行始于足下/A journey of a thousand miles starts beneath your feet: An Ancient Chinese proverb, the equivalent of "the secret of getting ahead is getting started."

  无父无君是禽兽也/Without a father or a ruler one is no better than a beast: An Ancient Chinese saying, rooted in Confucian values. Rather than decrying orphans and stateless refuges, the saying refers to people who do not respect/acknowledge their fathers and rulers (thereby breaking two of the three constants, that of lord and subject, and of father and son). The position of "father" is applied in a patrilineal sense, so it can also refer to a father who adopted you, or even your grandfather.

  伴君如伴虎/Accompanying a ruler is like accompanying a tiger: An ancient Chinese proverb describing the precarious position of privilege that someone close to the ruler occupies, aka the intrinsic danger of being in proximity to someone with too much power.

  Uzbek chapan: A traditional coat worn by men in Uzbekistan and also in other parts of Central Asia. Traditional Uzbek chapans were known to be rather colorful.

  Samarkand: A city in Uzbekistan, one of the oldest cities to be continuously inhabited in Central Asia, it held a very important position in the Silk Road and was well known to many.