CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The man who waits for us on the other side has a thin beard and is dressed in plain white robes. A white jade pendant swings from his sash when he stands and bows to us.
“Astronomer Wu.” Zhen clasps his hands with warm familiarity, and he returns her greeting with a fond smile.
“Please, sit.” He gestures to a round table, surrounded by stools.
I take my leave toward the next room to assist Ruyi, but the astronomer calls out to me. “You should hear this as well, Daughter of Shénnóng.”
With hesitation, I perch myself on the edge of a stool, not sure why I have been asked to stay. The number of astronomers in the empire is fewer than the shénnóng-shī listed in the Book of Tea, but no one is certain how many are in their ranks. I never thought I would be permitted to be in the presence of one, much less attend one of their readings.
“I am thankful you made the effort to meet me at risk to yourself,” Zhen says. “It will not be forgotten.”
“You have a hard path ahead, child,” Astronomer Wu says with great solemnity. “I’m not sure it will be a kindness for you to know what the stars have intended for you. I admit, I have considered encouraging you to walk an easier path.”
Zhen scoffs at the thought. “I am a daughter of the Li family. I will not turn to the easier path just to save my own life.”
“Although we are not like the shénnóng-shī, able to see the threads of a person’s possible future from a single cup”—he spares me a glance—“we can see the courses of kingdoms and empires. We see the paths of multitudes, each life affecting another, and to pull out one star is impossible. But there are moments within the stream where the paths divert toward uncertainty. You stand at the precipice, one of a cluster that gleams in the midst of it all.
“There’s a darkness coming for the empire. A darkness, rising from the heart of Dàxī.”
With each word uttered, I can perceive the threads being unwound, stars coursing through the night sky. A different magic from the one I am used to, but magic all the same.
“How do we stop it?” Zhen leans forward then, intent on finding the answers.
“There is light from the north, but it can easily be smothered by the darkness.” The words are cryptic, difficult to understand. “But your path will stop here if you do not leave the city tonight. The stars are clear enough: Stay in Jia, and you will be extinguished.”
The princess rubs her temple with obvious frustration. “Where do I go? Where do the stars lead me?”
“The way is never clear,” Astronomer Wu says apologetically, stroking his beard. “Individual destinies are too entwined with one another. A combination of hundreds, thousands of choices. We can only provide guidance, suggest the best course possible, and hope. Hope for the future of the empire. Hope for peace.”
“And the guidance for me is to … leave. Leave my home. Leave my people behind.” Zhen turns away, expression darkening. “Run.”
She suddenly looks in my direction. “What would you do in my position, Ning? Would you stay and fight for what you have, even though you may fail? Or would you go?”
I consider the various interpretations of the astronomer’s riddles, before offering my thoughts. “If you stay, your name will be recorded in the history books as a princess who fought for her throne and died. You told me your uncle is a master strategist, and you are currently unprepared. He waited for his opportunity; I would do the same. Regroup and return, when the time is right.”
She ponders this for a moment, then nods.
Astronomer Wu seems satisfied by this, and for a moment I feel as if I am standing on the precipice of change he spoke of. The stars diverting, rearranging the course of the empire, with this one decision.
Shadows will follow.
Is Zhen the target of the darkness, or the origin?
“Will you do us the honor of pouring us tea?” Astronomer Wu asks me, pointing to the tea ware set out on a table to his right. The water is already warmed on a brazier, ready to pour.
The tea leaves smell like smoke and pine, especially pungent. The water releases even more flavors, a faint sweetness reminding me of longan flesh and earthy spice. A mind in turmoil brews bitter drink, so I permit myself to become lost in the process again.
I still mourn for my mother’s beautiful redwood chest, and someday I will have the ability to re-create it, build a collection I can call my own. But in the meantime, I slip some tea leaves into the pouch in my sash, joining the other pieces I have collected these past days. I don’t know what is waiting for us in the journey away from the capital, but I know I will inevitably have to reach for my magic on the road.