I step off the walkway at the next corner and into the field of flowers, surrounding myself with peonies of all colors. I take a deep breath and inhale their scent, and underneath, the smell of the earth. I don’t know if all shénnóng-shī have this natural affinity with plants, or if it’s something unique to my mother’s abilities, but it is here where I am certain some part of the old gods remains with us still.
I open my eyes to see Kang still watching me from the path, an odd expression on his face.
“I feel like I am finally able to breathe,” I call out to him, unable to contain the joy I feel at being among the growing things, no longer closed off by stone walls.
Cautiously, he takes one step off the path and then hesitantly walks through the flowers, as if he is afraid he will hurt them.
“They’re not as fragile as you think.” I tease him by grabbing hold of a stalk and shaking the bloom in his direction, making him wince. “They bend but they don’t yield easily. You can raze plants to the ground, burn them, but some will always return the next year, and the year after that.”
I remember how much I cried when the orchards and the gardens burned, like I could feel the trees dying, and how Shu was at my side, even when I was sniffling in my bed at night. She would whisper what Mother told us, that they would come back, and it was easier to believe the words when they came from my sister’s lips.
I clear my throat, trying to channel my father’s stoicism instead. “Sometimes you have to break off the branches and remove the diseased limbs in order for the plant to be healthy again. Not so different from breaking bones to set them, or cutting a swollen limb to run an infection dry.”
“I believe you,” he says with a laugh, seemingly amused at my rambling.
“You two!” Shouts in the distance interrupt our moment, and we look toward the monastery to see two monks hurrying toward us.
We’ve been caught.
I look toward Kang, mouth agape, but he quickly reacts. His hand finds mine, and he pulls me after him as he yells over his shoulder, “Run!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
We crash through the flower sea, the branches parting for us as we rush by. The flowers bow their heads and whisper, Hurry, hurry. We burst through the shrubs onto a grassy slope. The sharp-eyed monks have called for reinforcements and they split in their pursuit, hoping to surround us and box us in.
Before us a canal runs past a grove of trees, leading to a lake dotted with lotus pads. A half-moon bridge curves over the water running through the canal. We fly over the bridge, ducking under the willow branches; they leave itchy remnants behind in my hair. The path curves here, around a small man-made mountain, carved out of yellow rock. I expect Kang to lead us over the path and into the other grove of trees, where it would be easier for us to circle around and lose our pursuers, but instead he races for the rocks.
“Wait—” I say as he begins to climb over the side of the decorative mountain.
“Trust me,” he says, quirking the corner of his mouth upward, eyes sparkling as bright as the waters behind him.
I look over my shoulder and the monks are not visible any longer, but I’m certain they’re not far behind. I can’t risk getting caught with Kang outside the palace. I have to follow.
Instead of climbing upward, he skirts around the base of the rock, balanced on the narrow overhang. There is a sharp drop into the murky water below. We only have room to crouch side by side, maneuvering ourselves into a small cave at the side of the mountain. Except we are still visible to anyone who walks farther down the path and closer to the pond. I turn to Kang to see what we are supposed to do, but he tucks himself between two protrusions of rock, and then … disappears.
I hear the voices of those searching for us fast approaching, and there is no time to think. I’m on my hands and knees, scrambling after him, diving into the crevice in the rocks. My hands search for places to grip as the sun-warmed rock turns damp and slippery. Without much illumination in the cramped space, I fumble for sure footing, muddying my skirts in the process.
The narrow opening widens as my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can make out steps carved into the stone. I squeeze myself between the two boulders after Kang, continuing to descend until we emerge in an underground cavern.
Looking up, I see a crack across the top of the cavern, a separation between the rocks that must have been moved here on top of this space, to hide what is contained below. A swath of sunlight cuts across the space, and it dances across the surface of the pool at the bottom of the cavern. The waters glow with a blue-green hue, like an impossible mirage.