Minister Song flips to a new page in his book. “Before the emperor ascended, he expressed his desire for his daughter to find a suitable match. At this point of transition, when the throne remains empty, we should all aim to spread a hopeful message. To quell the voices of the dissenters. This union may well turn the tide.”
The mood in the hall seems to shift as Chancellor Zhou rises, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. “The princess herself has acquiesced, speaking for his character, having known him from childhood. Did we also forget he saved her from the assassins on the first night of the competition?”
The grumblings of the officials settles to a quiet rumble.
At this point, the princess rises from her seat, her voice like a bell, clear and authoritative. “I welcome the counsel of the court, as you have guided my father and my father’s father. I rely on your help to maintain order in these dark times. The astronomers have been consulted, and they have determined that three is the auspicious number for my reign. My ascension, my betrothal, and the appointment of a new shénnóng-shī.”
With a sweep of her robe, she sits, concluding the matter.
“Let the final test begin.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
We have not had an audience of this size since the first round, and the feeling of eyes on me is like the unwelcome sensation of ants crawling over my skin. I keep my head down as I walk past the waiting officials to join the judges at the front of the room.
Chancellor Zhou is the one who steps forward in welcome. “The judges have been blessed to witness the various abilities demonstrated by these three shénnóng-tú during the course of the competition. They have conjured up memories and dazzled our senses. They have countered poisons and coaxed truths from lies. We have given tribute to the virtues which provide guidance to our earthly existence.
“Harmony,” he calls out—demonstrating yet again how he is able to control a crowd, commanding the attention of the court. “In pairing of food with tea, recognizing the regional variations that contribute to the composition of our great empire.
“Honesty and humility,” he continues. “A shénnóng-shī has a duty to provide the truth, even when the truth can harm. For only in receiving and accepting truth can a ruler confidently lead.
“Wisdom and compassion. A reminder that Shénnóng is a teacher and physician, a farmer and philosopher. A shénnóng-shī knows, as well as any physician, the balance between the internal and the external. We are humbled by death, but we will not bow to it.
“Finally, tonight we honor the virtue of dedication, the sacred connection of the shénnóng-shī to their patrons.”
He claps his hands three times. Servants begin to stream in, carrying cabinets and tables between them. The officials part for them as a circular stage is created in the center of the room. Three chests. Three tables. We three competitors are sent to stand beside them, regarding each other from around the circle. My hands clutch the edge of my table, etching the curve into my palm.
Minister Song approaches us with a bamboo holder, red fortune sticks protruding from the top, like ones that can be requested from a temple for a blessing from the gods. “You shall draw lots.”
Shao shakes out the first stick and places it on his table. Wenyi does the same, appearing somber. Finally, it comes to me. I close my eyes, tip the holder, and slide the stick out.
Shao’s lot reveals the Emerald Tortoise, and Wenyi, the Black Tiger. Mine, unfurled with trembling hands, is the White Crane. I pray this is a good omen, hoping the goddess has continued to guide me.
The herald calls out for the champions to enter. Two men and one woman enter the hall, each dressed in their respective colors. The representative of the Tortoise is a solidly built man, with dark brows and a mass of unruly black curls. He’s dressed in a loose, sack-like shirt and shorts that reach the knee. His legs are massive tree trunks, rippling with muscle, ending in bare feet. He salutes the princess with both hands, a massive redwood staff in his fists.
The Black Tiger champion is a muscular woman, arms bare except for red wraps wound around her wrists. Her flowing pants narrow around the ankles, and gold rings sparkle from her fingers. A single gold hoop is fastened to one ear. Strapped to her back are a pair of crossed swords.
The final representative, the champion of the White Crane, is a slender man dressed in a white robe. His hair is tied up in a sleek topknot and fastened with a single silver hairpin. If it weren’t for the sword at his side, sheathed in a blue scabbard, I would have thought he was a scholar. He salutes the princess with clasped hands to his forehead, bowing from the waist.