CHAPTER 16: THE BANQUET & THE BITTER TEA
Zhao Manor — Longevity Peace Hall — Three Days Later
The Empress Dowager serves me soup.
Personally.
Empress Dowager Zhào, 57, grandma who serves soup and buries enemies, set the bowl down with two hands. No servants. No fuss. Just her.
"Drink," she said. Not an order. A dare. "Before it gets cold. Cold soup is an insult to the cook."
Inner thought: She's the cook. She made it. If I don't drink, I insult her. If I do drink, I might die. Court life.
I drank. Bitter melon. Of course. Message received: 'I see you, girl.'
She smiled. Buddha smile. Prime minister's brain. "Good. Now. Tell this old woman why my grandson Chányán locked you in my house."
Inner thought: Because 'Hán MěiLíng. Page 17. Wēn chop. She's in the East Wing.' Because 'Don't leave. Not even the Crown Prince.' Because he said 'you forgot one' and added me to the list of people who talk back.
"Regent Prince is... careful," I said. Pick words like stones. Smooth. Heavy. "There's a rat in the walls. He doesn't want it to bite me."
The Empress Dowager snorted. Actually snorted. Like a soldier. "Rat? No. Chányán doesn't cage rats. He studies them. Then he breaks their necks."
She leaned in. Smelled like incense and iron. "Question is, girl. Are you the rat? Or the cheese?"
Inner thought: I'm the girl who said 'no' to him. The only one besides her. She's testing me. Or recruiting me.
"I'm the one who told him the rat was here," I said. Quiet. But not soft.
She stared. Then laughed. Real laugh. It shook the jade in her hair.
"Good," she said. "Then you can help me gut it. After the banquet."
The banquet.
Three words. Whole headache.
Three Days Ago — The Edict
'By order of His Majesty Zhào Róng, a Spring Peace Banquet shall be held at Dragon Rest Palace in three days' time. To celebrate the Emperor's recovery. To thank the heavens. To remind the court who still breathes.'
Translation: 'I didn't die. Come see for yourself. And bring your knives. We'll count them at the door.'
Everyone's invited.
Phoenix Court. Moon Alliance. Neutrals. Enemies. Friends.
Empress Xiàoyì — released from copying rites. Now she gets to wear bright yellow again. She'll be watching LìXūn like a hawk watches a field mouse.
Imperial Noble Consort Sū MěiYán — my aunt. 'Your rites didn't hold the border. My father did.' She's been quiet since the poison. Too quiet.
Imperial Noble Consort Wēn QīngYuè — 'No sons in my belly. But I own the sons in your army.' Ministry of Revenue. If soldiers starve, it's her fault. If the poison came from her ledger, it's her neck.
Concubine Mò YānRán — Salt money. Has a 6-year-old son the Emperor adores. 'The Salt Prince.' If LìXūn falls down stairs, guess who moves up?
And...
Han Manor.
Inner thought: Ugh.
Han Manor — Same Time — Other Side of Capital
Prime Minister Hán ZhìXuān, 40, brilliant, bitter about 'merchant blood' insult, was throwing a brush.
It hit the wall. Ink splattered. Like blood.
"She's a Zhao now!" he roared. At no one. At everyone. "That ungrateful—! I disowned her! She should be nothing! Now the Emperor asks for her? The Regent Prince cages her? My daughter?"
Inner thought: His daughter. Not me. MěiLíng. He means MěiLíng.
Lián'er, 24, gentle, grateful, never asks for rank, knelt. Picked up the brush. Hands shaking. Always shaking around him. "My lord... the banquet... if we don't go..."
"If we go, we kneel!" Han slammed the table. Seal stones jumped. "To her! To Sū RuìXī's brat! She's wearing Zhao silks while my son—"
"Is here," Lián'er whispered. And she dared. She actually dared. "XiǎoBǎo is here. Safe. With us. Not... not there."
Han froze.
Hán XiǎoBǎo, 2, loud, laughs, looks exactly like his father, toddled in. Chasing a jade cicada. Lián'er sews. Sells them. For extra. For him.
He crashed into Han's leg. Looked up. Big eyes. Han's eyes. "Baba!"
Han's face... broke. Just for a second. The Prime Minister vanished. A father showed up.
He picked the boy up. Awkward. Like he forgot how. "Baba's here."
Lián'er didn't move. Still kneeling. Still scared. But she'd spoken. For her son.
Han looked at her. Really looked. Then at the brush she'd saved.
"We go," he said. Quiet. Not defeated. ...Calculating. "To the banquet. And we kneel. For now."
He kissed XiǎoBǎo's hair. Clumsy. Real.
"But tell her," Han said. Voice went cold again. "Tell Hán MěiLíng... if she embarrasses me again, I'll disown her name, not just her person. No Han will claim her. No Zhao will shelter her. She'll be nothing."
Inner thought: He doesn't know. He doesn't know she's already nothing. She's 'Lady Lin' now. In Zhao Manor. With a vial. And a ledger.
Lián'er nodded. Tears in her eyes. Not for MěiLíng. For the man who might still be in there. Somewhere.
"Also," Han said. And he smiled. It was ugly. "Tell her... if she wants a Zhao name... she should earn it. At the banquet. The Crown Prince is kind. The Regent Prince is... available."
Inner thought: He's pimping his adopted daughter. To LìXūn. To Chányán. To whoever takes the throne first.
Lián'er flinched.
XiǎoBǎo laughed. He didn't know. He was two. He just liked his baba's smile.
Zhao Manor — Longevity Peace Hall — Now
"You're quiet," the Empress Dowager said. Still watching me over her soup. "Bad?"
"The banquet," I said. Honest. She hates lies. She can smell them. "Han Manor will be there. Minister Han. His... Lián'er. His son."
"Ah," she said. Like she bit into a lemon and liked it. "The merchant blood. Still trying to buy what his ancestors couldn't."
She sipped her soup. Calm. Grandma with a body count.
"His adopted daughter," she said. Casual. Like we weren't talking about murder. "Hán MěiLíng. She's... missing, I hear."
My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.
Inner thought: She knows. Of course she knows. 'Fey' grandma. Wind tells her secrets.
"Is she," I said. Flat. Like Chányán.
"Mm," the Empress Dowager said. Eyes sharp. Too sharp. "Ran after the fire. Han ZhìXuān disowned her. Loudly. In court. 'Spies carry Su blood. She has none. She's worthless.'"
She paused.
"But," she said, and her smile went sharp, "worthless things... get desperate. And desperate girls... do stupid things. Like poison. Like lies. Like... banquets."
She knows. She knows MěiLíng's here.
"Why tell me," I said. Not a question. A test.
"Because," she said, and she pushed the jade tiger across the table. My jade. White. Cold. 'For when you need to bite.' "You'll need to bite. Soon. And I want to see if your teeth are Su... or Han."
Inner thought: She's testing me. Before the banquet. Before MěiLíng.
I took the jade. It was warm. From her hands.
"Su," I said. No hesitation.
She laughed. Again. Real again. "Good. Then wear it. To the banquet. Let her see what she can't have."
Zhao Manor — East Wing — Guest Room — Same Night
Hán MěiLíng, 16, 'She was born with nothing. So I'll take', was crying.
Pretty. Blonde. Perfect victim.
Hán MěiZhū, 16, 'I hold the rope. When she falls, I take her place', patted her back. Eyes empty. "There, there, cousin. Zhao Manor is safe. The Regent Prince is kind."
Lies. All lies.
MěiLíng sniffed. Loud. Wet. "He... he won't even see me. I asked. The maid said 'Regent Prince is busy.' Busy with... with her."
Me.
"She stole my life," MěiLíng whispered. Venom in the sugar. "First Han Manor. Now Zhao Manor. She has the jade. She has the room. She has... him."
Him. Who? LìXūn? Chányán? Yes.
MěiZhū's hand kept patting. Rhythm. Like a lullaby. Like a countdown. "What will you do, cousin?"
MěiLíng looked up. Eyes dry. Instantly. The tears were gone. Like a switch.
"I have a gift," she said. And she pulled out a vial. Small. Dark. Same as my vision. "For her. From the Wēn family. 'For services rendered.'"
Inner thought: She doesn't know I saw. She doesn't know Péi Ròu wrote it down. She doesn't know MíngYǎn sold it.
"What does it do," MěiZhū asked. Voice flat. Not curious. ...Collecting.
"Nothing bad," MěiLíng said. Smiling. Real smile. First real one. "Just... makes you warm. Makes you... honest. Makes you... want."
Aphrodisiac.
"At the banquet," MěiLíng said. Tucking the vial away. "In her cup. She'll drink. She'll go to him. Whichever him she wants. And then..."
Then what?
"Then everyone will see," MěiLíng said. Eyes bright. Crazy bright. "The Su girl. The fey girl. The slut. No Zhao will want her. No prince will keep her. And I'll be there. To comfort them. To wear her jade."
'When JiāYì cries at my wedding, I'll wear her jade.'
MěiZhū stopped patting.
"Which him," MěiZhū asked. Quiet.
MěiLíng blinked. "What?"
"Which him will she go to," MěiZhū said. Still quiet. Still empty. "The Crown Prince? Kind. Easy. He'll take the blame. Say it was him. Ruin himself for her."
She's right. LìXūn would. He's that kind. And that's why he'd lose.
"Or," MěiZhū said, and she smiled. Not empty. Full. Hungry. "The Regent Prince. Cold. Fair. He'll execute her. For seduction. For treason. In front of everyone."
Chányán would. 'If it kills him, I end it.' He'd end me. To save the Zhao name.
MěiLíng frowned. She hadn't thought that far. She just wants me gone. She doesn't care how.
"Either way," MěiLíng said. Shrugging. "I win."
MěiZhū looked at her. Really looked.
"Yes," MěiZhū said. Soft. "You win. Page 17 will be complete."
Inner thought: She's not helping MěiLíng. She's watching her. For Péi Ròu. For the next page.
Zhao Manor — Training Grounds — Dawn, Banquet Day
Zhào LìXūn was sparring.
With Zhào Chányán.
Inner thought: Wait. What?
I was walking to Longevity Peace Hall. With YìChén. "Lazy wolves still bite." He was hungover. But awake. For me.
We stopped.
Because the sound...
Clang. Clang. CLANG.
No practice swords. Real ones. Live steel. At dawn.
LìXūn moved like water. Fast. Precise. No wasted motion. The sun had a sword.
Chányán moved like... winter. Unstoppable. One strike. One kill. But he wasn't killing. He was... teaching?
LìXūn lunged. Chányán deflected. With his wrist. Not even the blade. The wrist.
"Again," Chányán said. No yell. No praise. Just... again.
LìXūn grinned. Sweat. Blood on his lip. He liked it. "You're slow today, Cousin."
Inner thought: He's teasing him. The Crown Prince is teasing the Regent Prince. With swords.
Chányán's mouth... twitched. Not a smile. The idea of a smile. If smiles were tactics.
Then he moved. Blur. Too fast.
LìXūn's sword went flying. End over end. Stuck in the dirt. Point down.
Chányán's sword stopped. At LìXūn's throat. Not touching. But... close.
"Dead," Chányán said. Flat.
LìXūn laughed. Actually laughed. "Best two out of three?"
Inner thought: He's good. LìXūn is good. Not just kind. Not just 'the sun.' He's a sword. He's Chányán's equal. Or... close.
And Chányán trains him. Personally. At dawn. With live steel.
'I don't want to fight him. For you. Or the throne.'
LìXūn said that. But he could. He could fight him. And he might not lose.
Chányán stepped back. Two steps. Always two steps.
"Go bathe," he said. To LìXūn. Not order. ...Cousin? "You smell. The Emperor will complain."
LìXūn saluted. With his hand. Not full bow. Cousins. "Yes, Regent Prince."
But he was smiling. Like Chányán had called him 'idiot' and it was a compliment.
LìXūn turned. Saw me.
His face... lit up. The sun came out.
"JiāYì!" he called. No 'Lady Hán.' JiāYì. "Did you see? I almost had him!"
Inner thought: You didn't. But he let you think it. Why?
Chányán's head turned. Slow. Like he'd just remembered I existed.
His eyes. They went from LìXūn... to me. To LìXūn. To the space between us. Ten steps. Safe.
But his jaw... it didn't tick. It... relaxed?
"Lady Hán," Chányán said. Voice flat. Wall up. Winter back. "You're late."
For what?
"Empress Dowager," he said. Answering my thought. He does that. "Wants you. For tea. And... lessons."
Lessons in 'how to bite.'
"Go," he said. Not an order. ...Dismissal?
I went.
YìChén whistled. Low. "Well. That was... something."
"What," I said. Heart pounding. Why?
"Two things," YìChén said. Counting on his fingers. Drunk fingers. Still accurate. "One. LìXūn's better than last year. Chányán's been training him harder. Like... he's expecting something."
Like war.
"Two," YìChén said. And he grinned. Sharp. Like MíngYǎn. "Chányán just called you 'Lady Hán' to your face. And 'JiāYì' in his head. I saw it. He did that... thing."
What thing?
"The thing he does," YìChén said, and he waggled his eyebrows. 'The thing' with air quotes. "Before he does something stupid. Like... care."
Inner thought: He's drunk. He's wrong. Chányán doesn't care. He has no time for—
"Also," YìChén said. Still grinning. "He didn't tell you to avoid LìXūn today. He just told you to go to Grandma. That's... new."
New.
Dragon Rest Palace — That Night — The Banquet
The hall was gold.
The people were gold.
The lies were gold.
Empress Xiàoyì in bright yellow. Phoenix on her back. Watching LìXūn. Watching me. Watching Chányán not watch me.
Imperial Noble Consort Sū MěiYán in autumn yellow. My aunt. She looked at me once. Nodded. 'We don't announce power. People move when we enter.' I moved. To the Su table. Not the Han table.
Imperial Noble Consort Wēn QīngYuè in autumn yellow. Smiling. Laughing. Counting. 'No sons in my belly. But I own the sons in your army.' Is she counting mine?
Concubine Mò YānRán in no yellow. Holding her son. Prince Zhào Chén, 6. 'The Salt Prince.' He waved at me. I waved back. Empress saw. Her eyes narrowed.
Han Manor table.
Hán ZhìXuān. Drinking. Not eating. Watching me. Like I was a debt he hadn't collected.
Lián'er. Head down. But her son, XiǎoBǎo, 2, was on her lap. Playing with a jade cicada. He looked up. At me. And smiled. Han's smile. Innocent.
Inner thought: He doesn't know. He's two. He doesn't know his sister wants to kill me.
And...
'Lady Lin.'
Blonde. Pretty. Crying. Sitting at the Han table. 'Seeking refuge.'
Hán MěiLíng.
She was here. In front of me. Ten tables away.
She looked up. Saw me. Saw my jade. White tiger. On my throat.
She smiled. Wet. Sad. Perfect.
And mouthed something.
'Page 17.'
Inner thought: She knows. She knows I know.
The drums beat.
The Emperor entered. Slow. But alive. Chányán behind him. One step. Not two. Guarding.
LìXūn entered. Last. As he should. Crown Prince. He looked at the room. At me. And he smiled. Sun smile. Real.
Chányán's jaw. It didn't tick. But his hand... it went to his sword. Not gripping. Just... there.
The banquet began.
Wine poured.
MěiZhū stood. Hán MěiZhū. 'I hold the rope.' She was serving. She's not a lady today. She's a servant. Why?
She came to my table. To me.
"Wine, Lady Hán?" she said. Voice sweet. Empty.
Inner thought: Don't drink. Don't drink. Don't drink.
I smiled. Su smile. "The Empress Dowager said I'm not to drink tonight. 'Bad for the complexion.'"
MěiZhū's eye twitched. Just one. "Tea, then?"
She poured. From a pot. Not mine. Hers.
Inner thought: Is it? Is it the vial?
"To your health," MěiZhū said. And she curtsied. Low. Too low.
She left.
I didn't drink.
Across the hall. MěiLíng was watching. Her smile cracked. Just a little.
Then the drums beat again.
And the Emperor stood.
"Today," he said. Voice strong. Stronger than this morning. "We celebrate life. We celebrate... family."
His eyes. They went to LìXūn. To Chányán. To me.
"And," he said. And he smiled. Scholar smile. General smile. "We celebrate... matches."
The hall went dead quiet.
Inner thought: No. No no no.
"Prime Minister Han," the Emperor said. Looking at Han ZhìXuān. "Your loyalty. These years. Has been... noted."
Han stood. Bow. Sweating. "Your Majesty..."
"Your daughter," the Emperor said. And he looked at me. "Lady Hán JiāYì. Has been... fey. Useful. Loyal."
No. No no no.
"So," the Emperor said. And he looked at Chányán. Then at LìXūn. Then at me. "It is time she was... rewarded."
The hall. Everyone. Looking at me.
Chányán's face. Blank. Wall. Ice.
LìXūn's face. Hope. Sun. Too much sun.
MěiLíng's face. Smile. Wide. Real. 'Page 17.'
Inner thought: She knew. She planned this. The aphrodisiac. The banquet. The 'match.' She wasn't trying to kill me. She was trying to marry me off. To who?
If I drink, I go to 'him.' If I don't, I still go to 'him.'
Who is 'him'?
The Emperor opened his mouth.