THE BLOOD YOU CHOOSE
Zhao Manor — Longevity Peace Hall — Deep Night
The pain was white.
Not hot. Not cold. White. Like snow blindness. Like every nerve in my body was screaming at once.
Inner thought: I'm alive. I'm alive. Why does alive hurt worse than dying?
The ice bath was over. Three hours. They said. Felt like three lifetimes.
Chányán didn't watch. He said he wouldn't. He didn't. He stood by the window. Back to me. The whole time. YìChén and the physician did the needles. The ice. The holding down.
I screamed. I know I did. I screamed his name. Not 'please.' Not 'stop.' Just... 'Chányán.'
He didn't turn. Not once. But his hand... it was on the window frame. And when I screamed, the wood... cracked.
Now it was quiet.
I was in bed. Dry. Wrapped in ten blankets. Still shaking. Not from cold. From... empty. The heat was gone. Left a hole.
Inner thought: I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
Lie. I don't. I hate that he was right. I hate that I said yes. I hate that I'm alive.
The door opened.
No knock. Again. No one knocks for me anymore. I'm either 'fey' or 'the girl who burned.'
Imperial Noble Consort Sū MěiYán walked in.
Alone. No eunuchs. No maids. Just her. Autumn yellow gone. She was in plain blue. Midnight blue. The color Su wears for funerals.
Inner thought: Oh. She came dressed for a death. Mine? His?
She looked at me. Really looked. At the blankets. At the shaking. At the bite marks on my own arm. Where I'd bitten down. To not say his name.
She didn't sit. Didn't speak. Just... stood there. Like a judge. Like a executioner.
"Did he touch you," she said. First words. No 'how are you.' No 'niece.' Did. He. Touch. You.
Inner thought: Yes. No. He held my hand. He picked me up. He didn't...
"No," I said. Voice raw. From screaming. From ice. "He... didn't."
My aunt's eyes narrowed. "The physician said the cure was... a man. LìXūn offered. The whole court heard. Yet you're here. Alive. Untouched. So."
She stepped closer. One step. Two.
"Explain."
Inner thought: She thinks... she thinks I'm lying. She thinks Chányán...
"Ice," I said. Pushing the word out. It hurt. Everything hurt. "Needles. He... he chose pain. For me."
My aunt stared. For a long time. Like she was weighing me. Like she did at the banquet. 'We don't announce power.'
Then she laughed. One sound. Bitter. Like my mother's medicine.
"Pain," she said. "Of course he did. Zhào Chányán. 'Fair.' 'Cold.' 'No time for romance.' He'd rather watch you suffer than compromise you."
She said it like an insult. Like it was the worst thing a man could do.
Inner thought: It was. It is. I hate him. I hate that he's good.
"Do you hate him," my aunt said. Like she heard me. Maybe she did. Su women hear everything.
I didn't answer. Couldn't. Yes? No? Both?
"You should," she said. And she sat. Finally. On the edge of the bed. Not touching me. But close. "He let you burn. Then he let you freeze. All to keep his hands clean. All to keep his 'honor.'"
She leaned in. Smelled like sandalwood. Like Mother.
"Tell me, JiāYì," she said. Soft now. Too soft. Dangerous soft. "If it had been LìXūn at that door. If he'd been the one to carry you out. Would you hate him too?"
Inner thought: LìXūn... LìXūn would've held me. Would've said 'it's okay.' Would've...
Would've made it worse. Because I would've wanted it. And then hated myself after.
"No," I whispered. Honest. Too honest. "I'd hate me."
My aunt closed her eyes. Like I'd confirmed something awful.
"So," she said. Opening them. Hard again. "You hate Chányán because he didn't take. And you'd hate yourself if LìXūn did."
She stood. Back to General Sū.
"The Emperor heard," she said. Changing tracks. No warning. Su women fight like that. "The scandal. The cup. The 'needs a man.' It's all over the palace by now. 'Lady Hán, drugged. Crown Prince offered. Regent Prince refused.'"
My stomach dropped. 'Refused.' Like I was a gift he sent back.
"The Empress is furious," my aunt went on. "Not for you. For LìXūn. 'My son, humiliated. Offering himself and being denied by a *Han girl.'"*
Inner thought: I didn't deny him. Chányán did. 'Cousin. Now.'
"Wēn QīngYuè is laughing," my aunt said. "'The Su girl frigid. The Zhao boy heartless. Good. Let them tear each other apart.'"
She looked at me. Really looked.
"And Chányán?" she said. Voice quiet. "He thinks you hate him now. For the ice. For the choice. For walking away."
Inner thought: He's right. I do. A little. A lot. I don't know.
"Is he wrong," my aunt said. Not a question. A test.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. What was the truth?
I hate that he saw me. I hate that he heard me. I hate that he said 'no' and I'm alive because of it.
I hate that I'm grateful.
"I..." I started. Stopped. 'I don't know' was true. 'I don't know' was weak. Su don't say 'I don't know.'
"I'm blood," I said. Finally. 'You hear me? You're Su. We bite.' But what did that even mean now? "Su blood. Han name. Zhao robe. I don't... I don't know whose blood I am when it matters."
My aunt was quiet. For a long time.
Then she did something I didn't expect.
She reached out. Tucked my hair behind my ear. Like Mother used to. Like I was five. Not sixteen. Not ruined.
"Then choose," she said. Soft. So soft it hurt worse than the ice. "Right now. In this bed. No court. No emperor. No princes. Choose."
Inner thought: Choose what?
"Su," she said. "Bite. Fight. Burn the world if they touch you. Like I did. Like your mother did."
She paused. Thumb brushed my cheek. Wiping a tear I didn't know was there.
"Or Zhao," she said. "Endure. Calculate. Let them hurt you if it keeps you alive. Like him. Like Chányán."
She leaned down. Forehead to mine. Like a blessing. Like a curse.
"But choose," she whispered. "Because if you don't, the palace will choose for you. And it won't be kind. And it won't be fair. And it won't be Chányán holding your hand."
She stood. Straight. Imperial Noble Consort again. Wall up. War up.
"I'm going to see the Emperor," she said. "Before he does something stupid. Like marry you off to Guō Péi to 'end the scandal.'"
She was at the door. Hand on the frame.
Stopped. Didn't turn.
"He asked about you," she said. Quiet. "Chányán. After the ice. He asked YìChén. 'Is she...' He didn't finish. YìChén said 'alive.' He left."
Inner thought: He asked. He didn't come. He asked.
"Don't hate him for being cold," my aunt said. And she finally looked back. Eyes wet. Aunt eyes. Not consort eyes. "Hate him if he was warm. Because warm men... warm men like LìXūn... they burn you trying to save you."
Door shut.
Gone.
Inner thought: I'm Su. I'm Zhao. I'm...
I'm cold. And I'm empty. And I hate him. And I...
I understand him.
And that's worse.
Zhao Manor — Outer Courtyard — Same Time
Chányán was there. Alone. No guards. No sword. Just him. And the moon.
He was looking at his hand. The one that held mine. The one that was shaking.
He made a fist. Tight. Until the knuckles went white.
Then he let go. Slow. Like it hurt.
YìChén walked up. Didn't speak. Just... stood. Brother.
"She hates me," Chányán said. Not a question. Not sad. Fact. Like 'the sky is blue.'
YìChén didn't deny it. "Probably."
Silence.
"Good," Chányán said. Finally. After a lifetime. "Better she hates me. Than..."
Than what? Than wants me? Than dies?
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
YìChén looked at him. Really looked. 'Ge, you idiot.'
"The Emperor summoned Aunt," YìChén said. "Sū MěiYán. Now. About... the marriage. To end the scandal."
Chányán went still. All of him. Like the ice bath was his.
"Whose marriage," he said. Voice... not flat. Not wall. ...Sharp.
YìChén hesitated. Then: "Yours. To her. To end the 'she's mine' rumor. To make it true. Or..."
Or LìXūn. To make it kind. To make it worse.
Chányán closed his eyes. One second. One breath.
When he opened them, the winter was back. The wall was back. The Regent Prince was back.
"Ready the horses," he said. To YìChén. To the night. To himself. "We ride for the palace. Now."
Inner thought: Why? To stop it? To allow it?
He didn't say.
He didn't know.