Each night, our meals are presented at the Fragrant Spring Garden, under the cover of the cluster of pavilions that sit in the middle of an ornamental garden paved with white stones. As our numbers grow fewer, we now eat under the central pavilion, separated by two stone tables. Lanterns sway in the breeze, lighting up the paths, and the air is scented by gardenia flower blooms.
Shao holds court at one table with those who remain of his friends, whose faces I have committed to memory. One of the loudest and most boorish among them is Guoming, who was present in the residence of the marquis. Even though the drunken buffoon who grabbed me was eliminated in the second round of the competition, I see all of them as complicit in the scheming. I’ve taken to avoiding them at every turn, casting my eyes down and continuing to behave as the quiet girl from the countryside who poses no threat.
Today we feast on sweet-and-sour fish, the carp cut into beautiful flower patterns and then fried, curling into petals. It’s bathed in a vividly red sauce cooked with vinegar. Giant lion’s head meatballs, bigger than my fist, have been cooked in their own juices, then ladled into bowls to be accompanied by greens and a light broth sweetened by mushrooms. Even something as simple as carrots and cucumbers have been turned into flowers as accompaniments, so that the platter appears to be a garden in bloom.
My head is still in turmoil from the revelations shared by the steward. What she told me explains why my parents were always so careful to keep Shu and me within the village. Why they rarely traveled, and why they never wanted to be in attendance when the emperor visited a nearby town on one of his summer tours. Why Father was so angry whenever I drew the attention of the soldiers.
I’m so focused on my food, I don’t notice I’m no longer alone until two fists strike the table in front of me. I jump, my spoon dropping out of my hand and hitting my bowl with a clatter. I look up, my mouth full of rice, only to see Shao looking down at me with a disapproving glare.
“You lost me money today, girl,” he drawls, his capital accent even more pronounced then usual. I can see over his shoulder the young men at the other table, elbowing each other and looking over at us, laughing.
I swallow, confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“He put down an entire coin purse betting you would fail this round,” one of his friends calls out, chortling. “I’m glad you proved him wrong.”
Heat flares in my face, and there’s a tightness in my chest. They’re … betting on who will win or lose?
“It was pure luck that she passed.” Shao turns back to me, regaining his composure. The lazy smile returns to his face. He dangles a small pouch in front of me, shaking it until I can hear the coins clink within. “Why don’t we make it more of a challenge for the rest of us? Take these coins, then you can leave. Return to the poor village you came from. Save yourself the embarrassment of defeat.”
The pouch lands on the table with a clatter, the silver contained within spilling out. I stand up, knocking my stool down behind me, arms trembling at my sides.
I look at the faces of the rest of the competitors at my table. All of them looked shocked, surprised, some amused, but no one speaks up for me.
Slowly, I pick up the pouch, putting each coin back inside carefully. Weighing the pouch in my hand, I can tell there is more than enough in here to stock the entirety of my father’s store. Ingredients to treat the villagers, to fill our kitchen shelves for months …
I meet Shao’s eyes, and he looks at me with growing amusement. “There is no shame in—”
Pulling my arm back, I throw the pouch at Shao as hard as I can. It hits him in the chest and lands on the stone floor below. Coins roll in every direction.
“Keep betting against me,” I say to him, voice shaking only very slightly. “I’d love to see what else you’ll lose.”
Shao’s eyes bulge as he steps forward, but even quicker, the shénnóng-tú from Yún blocks his path with his arm.
“Move out of my way, Wenyi,” Shao hisses.
“Careful, Shao,” the monk drawls. “You wouldn’t want us to think you are feeling threatened by her … Right?”
Shao sputters at the absurdity of that thought, and I turn, fleeing. Away from their mocking gazes. Away from their ridicule.
* * *
Shao’s jeers remind me of my family’s history, my disgraceful lineage. How I keep embarrassing my family at each turn. Like the time before the autumn rains, years ago, when the soldiers came to collect the harvest taxes, and my family grumbled about how they could not wait for them to leave.