Sitting down as well, I try to find encouraging words to speak to her, but find none. All I have to offer is more bad news, more warnings. In our haste to leave the city, I had one remaining piece of information I realize now I have yet to pass on to her, and I hope at least it will help her retain her focus.
“I spoke with Wenyi in the dungeons,” I inform her, pulling out the pouch from my sash. “He said Yěli? is still loyal to the emperor, but Hánxiá may have gone to the rebellion.”
I place the items on the small table between us. The vial. Shu’s embroidery. Father’s letter. Mother’s knot. A few petals of osmanthus and strands of tea leaves. I pick up the two squares of paper from Wenyi and unfold one of them. Quickly reading the words, I confirm that this is the letter with reference to the disappearances Wenyi spoke of, and pass it to her.
“Wenyi? Why did you not bring him with you?” Zhen reads the words with renewed interest. “He could have been a benefit to our cause.”
“I’m sure he would have liked to be able to tell you himself, but he … passed in the night.”
Zhen glances at me, expression softening. “You have risked it all, Ning, and for that, I am grateful.”
While she reads, I pick up Shu’s embroidery again, running my finger over the stitches. The beauty of the peony reminds me of the teahouse we escaped from, and also that entertainer who assisted me in the second round of the competition. I never managed to get her name. The moon represents me, I am certain, her love stitched into this fabric.
“We must go to Yěli?,” Zhen says to me, worry drawing down the corners of her eyes, after taking in what was revealed in Wenyi’s letter. “If we speak to the monks there, they may provide more information on what Wenyi has shared with us. If what he says is true, then the poison must have originated from Hánxiá.”
I still have more questions than answers, but Zhen instructs me to get some rest instead. She lies down next to Ruyi, while I curl up on the bench. The candle sputters next to me and casts long, leaping shadows on the wall as restless thoughts run through my mind.
My heart is torn, knowing the decision I must make tomorrow, when the ship will continue south, then turn west at Nánjiāng. We will be passing through Sù, and close to my village.
Do I follow the princess, knowing the brilliant minds at Yěli? may have the answers that will lead me to the antidote? Or do I listen to my father’s pleas and return home?
The chancellor had said he was certain a shénnóng-shī was the culprit behind the tea bricks, but was that a lie? And how did he get the magic arrow that poisoned Ruyi? I saw the three-headed snake again when I shared the tea with the general. What is Shénnóng trying to tell me? If the poison is from Hánxiá, then why would a component of the poison be seaweed from Lǜzhou?
Sleep continues to elude me, and I sit up again, quietly growling in frustration. I look down at my hand, realizing I’ve crumpled Shu’s embroidery in my fist, holding it close to my heart like a talisman. Smoothing out the fabric, my eyes catch on the peculiar color of the grass again. Rippling strangely, as if … moving in water. Then the spots on the stunted branches of the trees. Holes.
Not trees … Coral.
I recognize it now. Seaweed. The moon reflected. The poem. I’ve been looking at it all wrong. The moon is in the water. This is not my sister, reminding me of home. She knew Father would not allow her to continue her experiments for the antidote, so she sent me an outline of her discoveries.
This is a recipe.
Sweeping the scrolls off the small table, I find ink and paper, and I begin to write.
* * *
I wake to quiet voices, my face resting against my notes on the table. I wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve as the words swim in front of my eyes.
As sleep retreats, panic sets in, shooting through me as I hurry to the porthole, clutching the paper to my chest, afraid we have traveled too far. I see the busy port where we are currently docked. I’ve slept all day while we traveled down the river. The tower in the distance, brilliantly lit against the night, is one I recognize: Nánjiāng. I feel something sag inside me with relief, and I steady myself against the wall. It’s not too late.
“Ning?” I turn to see Zhen and Ruyi looking at me with worry.
I show them everything I’ve found. Shu’s discoveries, and how I believe I may be in possession of the missing piece of the antidote. They look at each other, silent communication passing between them, then Zhen turns to me with a nod. “We will help you in any way we are able.”