“What’s the matter?” I finally asked, unable to restrain myself. “Is it your family? Bad news?”
Her fingers clenched around the cup. “I want to go home.”
Simple words which struck me deep, which had echoed in my mind each day and night. I knew Shuxiao missed her family; she spoke of them with such longing. But she was a Celestial, and I had thought she was happy here, that she had chosen this path.
“Isn’t this your home? Don’t you want to be here?” I asked tentatively, wondering if the wine had dulled my mind.
“No. Home is south in the countryside, shaded by crabapple trees, a river cutting through the fields.” A small smile played on her lips. “My father never sought a place at court or the emperor’s favor. While our family is not weak, we are without allies. It would not have mattered if a powerful noble had not taken a liking to my younger sister. He approached my father, asking for her to be his concubine. An insult. Even if he wasn’t both lecherous and ancient, with over a dozen concubines and three wives.”
Such things were common among the nobility, yet the idea repelled me. How could love thrive in so unequal a circumstance?
“My sister refused the match. My father supported her, as not many would have done. The old goat was furious that we spurned the great honor,” she snarled. “He threatened my family with ruin. That he would blacken our reputation to the Celestial Court. Who would defend us when none knew our name?”
“Is that why you joined the army?”
She nodded. “To stop the threats and bullying. To prevent this from happening again. Few would dare malign us without proof now I have General Jianyun’s ear. But this is not the life I wanted, among the crowds of the Jade Palace. I want to be home with my family and friends. Maybe fall in love. Yet the higher I rise, the more I am bound. The more we have to lose.” Grabbing the jar, she emptied the last of it into her cup, some of the wine sloshing onto the table.
I did not know what to say. Perhaps I was failing her through my continued silence, but neither did I wish to give misguided advice. I had always thought Shuxiao thrived here; liked by commanders and soldiers alike. Perhaps it was as Liwei had said: Everyone has their own troubles; some lay them bare while others hide them better.
I could not tell her to follow her heart. I could not tell her to be selfish. This was her choice to make, though I would gladly support her however she decided. We each had our own burdens to bear and we alone knew their true cost, and whether we could pay it.
“Maybe you’ll find someone here?” I teased, trying to lighten her mood.
Her nose wrinkled. “Hah! You’ve got the best one—among the men, at least.” She rummaged in the chest behind her to pull out another jar of wine.
Did she mean Wenzhi? Heat prickled along my neck yet I held my tongue, feigning indifference.
After a pause, she nudged my arm. “Xingyin, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”
I took a long drink, letting the wine burn through the sudden tightness in my throat. Did she suspect anything of my family? My identity? She would not betray my confidence, but I could not risk a chance indiscretion.
“What’s that ornament you always wear by your waist? The one with the teardrop-shaped stone. I’ve seen it on Prince Liwei, too.”
I released a drawn-out breath, relieved that my mother’s secret was safe—even as my insides clenched with a new anxiety. My past with Liwei was another secret buried deep, but I would not lie to Shuxiao. Not for this.
“It was a gift. From Prince Liwei.” I hated the way my voice shook over his name.
As her lips stretched in a knowing grin, I added hastily, “It was nothing, just a token of friendship. He’s engaged.” A statement as obvious as the color of my hair.
She squinted, as though struggling to remember something in her befuddled state. “Prince Liwei is never without the tassel. And his attendants say that your song, the one you played at his banquet, is often heard drifting from his room.”
He kept the shell, still? It means nothing, it changes nothing, a voice inside me hissed.
My fingers toyed with my cup. This time, it was I who drained it first. “I didn’t think you listened to idle gossip,” I told her.
“Only when it concerns my friends,” she said, with a grin.
I did not speak again, and neither did she. So, we drank in companiable silence for the rest of the night, the air between us heavy with past remembrances.
My head throbbed mercilessly the next morning. I thought a walk would ease it but my feet led me back to a familiar courtyard. I hesitated, before entering the pavilion and sitting on a stool. Yellow and orange carp darted around the lotus blooms as the waterfall cascaded into the pond with a soothing rumble. I closed my eyes, inhaling the sweetness in the air. My old room was a few steps away—was it occupied by another? This was my first time entering the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility since I had left. It was just as I remembered, yet everything had changed.