It might be a trick of the light, but I can swear the minister’s eyes meet mine with disapproval for a moment.
“For the few of you who have yet to be judged, the princess has mercifully granted you passage to the next round of the competition due to the circumstances. Do not squander this opportunity.” There are a few grumbles from a handful of competitors, but they are quickly silenced with a pointed look from the minister.
We bow our heads and murmur our acknowledgment, seventeen voices joined together in one. After we rise, I shuffle alongside the other shénnóng-tú, pondering my good fortune at being able to move on to the next round even with my misstep, but then my arm is caught by one of the guards.
“Your presence is requested.” His voice is low, but it still draws the attention of a few of the other competitors, who scurry away as if the guard would start grabbing them, too, if they hesitated for too long. I despise the expression flitting across their faces, a mixture of pity and revulsion.
The hand of the guard is secure at my elbow as he guides me back to the pavilion. My empty stomach clenches in worry when I realize the grand chancellor has replaced Minister Song at the pavilion. I’m pushed up the stone steps to stand before him, uncertain of what I should say or what I should do with my hands.
Chancellor Zhou regards the water beyond the barrier, and I follow his gaze. The water lilies have yet to bloom, but their leaves are spreading on the water’s surface. Clusters of purple-red, vibrant green, a sign that nature continues to wake in the progression of the season.
I straighten my posture to match his. If I am to be removed from the competition, I can exit with dignity at least.
“Zhang Ning,” he says, voice hard as granite. “You are aware your … choices last night have consequences?”
Moments fly through my mind like arrows shot into the night. The implication of the poet’s words. The shattered teacup.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper. Regret spreads into my limbs, making me wish I could crumble into ash in front of him. If only I had the courage to look at him, defiant, to name myself as a revolutionary. But I am nothing except cowardice. “I meant no harm.”
He sighs and rubs his chin with his thumb. “I will not lie to you, child. Your path forward in this competition will be difficult. You have gained the animosity of the Marquis of ānhé. If he had his way, you would be out of the competition already.”
My hope sinks, heavy as a stone. I am to be sent back to Sù. I am certain of it.
“You are lucky the princess indicated she was interested in seeing more of your skills.” He turns to face me, gaze intent. “I also see potential in you.”
I lower myself to my knees, legs weak with fear and relief.
“You are too kind to someone as unworthy as me,” I murmur.
“Please, stand.” He grasps my arm and helps me up, but his next words send a trickle of cold down my spine. “I hesitate to call it a kindness. You will be placed under careful scrutiny. One more misstep, and you will be thrown into the dungeons.”
I force myself to look at him. With his neatly trimmed beard, the set of his jaw, he reminds me a little of my grandfather—they both have a commanding presence. I meet his steady gaze, sensing no malice there, only a warning.
“If we uncover any ties between you and the assassins, then you and everyone you care about will be banished to Lǜzhou. You and your family will die there, along with any other co-conspirators who are foolish enough to oppose the emperor.”
“I understand.” I manage to force the words out. Lǜzhou is a peninsula and a collection of islands to the east. Also known as the Emerald Isles, it is known to be the most dangerous place in the empire, where ruthless criminals are exiled in service to the kingdom. They are destined for backbreaking work in the salt marshes or the stone quarries. To live there is to await a slow death.
Chancellor Zhou sighs and waves his hand, dismissing me.
I flee, afraid still for my place in the palace. I have drawn attention to myself, and not the kind of attention that will benefit my position. I have to be especially careful of how my actions will affect the way the judges view me. It’s clear that if I make the wrong step, my family will suffer. I will not forget again.
What have I gotten myself into?
* * *
I return to the residence to find Lian picking away at her bowl of congee.
“You’re here!” She shoots up out of her seat, her spoon falling to the table with a clatter. “What happened? What did the minister say?”