Something flashed across Prince Yanxi’s face, akin to surprise. “Indeed. We would be greatly disadvantaged underwater. The merfolk are excellent swimmers and are accustomed to the darkness. However, they will be reluctant to challenge us on land. We will need a plan.”
King Yanzheng leaned forward. “The captain and his troops just arrived today. We are being inhospitable, keeping them here when they need to settle themselves.” His smile was gracious and warm. “Captain Wenzhi, we have planned a banquet tonight in your honor. I hope you will grace us with your presence, along with First Archer Xingyin.”
“We would be honored.” Captain Wenzhi hesitated, his throat working. “Your Majesty, the library of the Fragrant Coral Palace is renowned throughout the Immortal Realm. May I have your permission to visit it? I hope to learn what I can about the merfolk to aid us.”
The king inclined his head. “An attendant will bring you there whenever you wish.”
As Captain Wenzhi and I left the hall, I grinned at him. “‘First Archer?’ ‘The highest ranked archer in our army?’” I repeated his earlier words back to him. “Does this mean we’re closer in rank now?”
He shot me an exasperated glare. “It’s not an official position as you’re not an official recruit. And since when have our ranks mattered to you?”
I laughed, not protesting his claim. I had never been disrespectful to him, but neither had I treated him with the deference his position called for.
Without breaking his stride, he continued, “You are the first ranked archer in the army. Although, if you slack off and lose your position—you’ll have to make do with ‘Second’ or ‘Third Archer,’ which sounds a lot less impressive.”
“Hah!” I was stung by his insinuation. “Care to challenge me yourself?” He was known to be a skilled archer and yet, the moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to snatch them back. They evoked too many unsettling memories . . . of a peach blossom forest, of someone I desperately wanted to forget.
A shadow of a smile formed upon his lips. “Not with the bow. But you’re welcome to try me on any other weapon.”
I did not reply, forcing myself onward, one step after the other, as silence fell between us now.
He stopped by the entrance doors, tilting his head as he scrutinized me. “You look pale. Tired. You’ve been training too hard. Why don’t you return to the camp and rest? I’ll go to the library to see if I can find anything of use.” He gestured to the waiting attendant who hurried over at once.
“I’m fine,” I protested, eager to visit the library, too. But he stared at me unrelentingly until I nodded. I could not defy his order in front of the attendant.
“I’ll tell you what I find,” he said, perhaps seeing my crestfallen face. “Rest, while you can. Tonight, will be a long affair.”
18
An attendant from the Fragrant Coral Palace arrived, bearing a tray of garments for the banquet. Glad for their gracious hospitality, I pulled on the yellow satin dress with turquoise beads thickly sewn onto its hem and cuffs. A sea-green sash went around my waist, its silken tassels falling to my knees. The style of this garment was different from those in the Celestial Kingdom, leaving my jade pendant bared below the hollow of my neck. My only other adornment was a comb of pearls tucked into the crown of my head, as my dark hair flowed loosely down my back.
Captain Wenzhi waited for me outside. My pulse leapt unexpectedly as I walked toward him. He was striking tonight in a forest green robe, with a gleaming length of black silk knotted around his waist. His hair was gathered into a carved jade ring, falling over his shoulder like waves of night. It was as though my eyes were rinsed, finally seeing with startling clarity all the fine features which Shuxiao had described.
The wind blew gently that evening. I inhaled the cool air, drowning my senses in the fragrance of the sea—a bewitching mixture of sunshine and salt, laced with an undercurrent of excitement. The rays from the setting sun painted the waters crimson and vermilion, the Fragrant Coral Palace glowing like a jewel in the horizon.
In the banquet hall, hundreds of lanterns were strung across the ceiling, luminous and bright. Low wooden tables and brocade-padded chairs were arranged around the walls, leaving an empty space in the center of the room. In one corner sat an elegant lady playing a pipa, the four-stringed wooden instrument shaped like an elongated pear. As she plucked its strings, the melancholy strains of her song filled the air. Her playing was masterful; from the twang of a single string she wrung a river of sorrow and an ocean of grief.