In the morning, I tried to return to the library only to be swept up in a training exercise in the muddy courtyard. Though I wasn’t keen on working with people who thought of me as a peasant or a whore, part of me wondered how formally trained alchemists practiced. Apparently, sparring was a regular part of their curriculum.
“It sharpens your mind,” explained one of the female alchemists.
“For what?” I’d said. “Aren’t we just making gold?”
She rolled her eyes. “Alchemists are expected to defend the royal family if the guards can’t,” she said. “Where did you study again?”
I’d watched the male alchemists pair off and take turns blasting each other’s eyebrows off with firestones or transforming blunt weapons from the wet dirt, reluctantly laughing along with the crowd when one used earthstones to smash a six-foot hole in the ground, which his opponent promptly tumbled into.
Some of them had turned each stone into a ring to better arm themselves, although having several rings on each finger seemed to hamper their movements. Some, like me, had chosen only the most useful stones to transform into rings or bracelets or embroidered gloves, keeping the rest in satchels. One alchemist, who I’d mentally dubbed Fire Fingers, had apparently dunked his hands in a fire-retardant gel, embroidered silk gloves with traces of firestone, and used alchemy to activate them so that the flames devoured the fabric, leaving him with two blazing fistfuls of blue fire.
The longer I watched, the more I began to wonder exactly how much the rest of them had learned in school while I’d been working the shop. Beating the alchemists of Guangzhou was one thing, but the North practically bled gold, and its students clearly could afford the best alchemy tutors in the empire.
“Hey, hùnxiě,” one of the men called. I knew the voice even before I looked up to find Zheng Sili, arms crossed. “Your turn.”
I wanted to slink away and study, but everyone had turned toward me. “I have better things to do than bathe in mud like a pig,” I said.
“Ah yes, you do that enough in your free time,” Zheng Sili said, laughter rippling behind him. He crossed the circle, standing right in front of me. “You’re too confident. You think you stand a chance against a trained alchemist? You only got out of Guangzhou because you flashed your skin at the judges.”
I took a steadying breath. You need to study, I thought. Fighting with Zheng Sili won’t make you a royal alchemist. “How’s your wrist?” I said at last. “Did you tell everyone how I made you cry?”
Zheng Sili’s eyebrow twitched. “There’s no need to get defensive, Zilan. I know you’re embarrassed that a whole town saw you without your dress, but it’s not like there’s much to see under your clothes anyway.”
Without thinking, I shoved him hard. The crowd hurried away, murmuring as the circle opened up wider around us.
Fine. If there was anyone here I wouldn’t mind fighting, it was Zheng Sili.
He smiled knowingly and took a step back, waving me into the circle with his palm facing up, like I was an animal. My face burned and I tightened my grip on my new satchel, which was nothing but some bundled-up scraps knotted to my sash.
Without warning, Zheng Sili reached a hand into his satchel. I didn’t see what stones he grabbed, but with one smooth arc of his arm, he cast something to the ground and a circle of flames carved itself into the grass around us. Great walls of fire singed my heels, forcing me to step closer or ignite my dress.
What kind of firestone had he used? How did he have such precise control over the fire’s shape? Was there already something flammable on the ground? I swallowed, even though the fire had sapped all the moisture from my mouth.
Where did you study again? the other alchemist had said.
In an attic above a míngqì shop, I thought bitterly. And I was beginning to feel that it wasn’t enough to get me out of this.
I shoved my hand into my bag and pulled out three pieces of granite, sharpening them into a blade with the touch of the iron rings on my left hand. I probably should have thought of something more creative, something flashy to show all the other alchemists not to bother me anymore, but with so many eyes on me, it was the best I could think of.
I lunged forward and struck at Zheng Sili, but he wrapped his hand around my knife. His skin had turned the color of jade, a flexible but sturdy material encasing his hand as he snapped my blade off easily, casting it to the side. He’d moved so fast that I hadn’t even seen what stones he’d grabbed before the transformation burned them up. With a flash of light against his jade hand, his index finger sharpened into a green blade.
He slashed at me, the strike so far from my center that I thought he was trying to tear my dress again, but instead he sliced my satchel apart, all my stones tumbling to the ground.
Forget alchemy, I thought, jamming my palm into his nose. The crunch and strangled scream that followed was satisfying for only an instant before he bit down hard on my fingers.
I tried to wrench my hand away in a panic, but his teeth only clamped harder. Human mouths were more than capable of severing fingers, and I wouldn’t put it past Zheng Sili to try. If I were to lose a finger, I would be damned if it happened in such a ridiculous and embarrassing way as this.
I reached up to jam my thumb into his eye, but his jade hand grabbed my wrist and wrenched it back. His teeth had already broken skin, and bones would come next. I had no stones, and no free hands. The iron rings on my right hand were still intact, but what was I supposed to transform in Zheng Sili’s mouth? His spit? His tongue? Transformations with metalstones like iron were meant for things, not bodies. Alchemical body augmentation was a science by itself, one that Zheng Sili had probably studied, but of course, I hadn’t. I was half a breath away from surrendering just to save my fingers when his pearl tooth caught the light.
Now that was a stone I could work with.
I wrenched my hand back just enough until my iron ring clinked against the tooth.
With a flash of white light, the pearl popped out of his gums as it snapped into a spherical shape, releasing the tension on my fingers. Zheng Sili let out a startled breath and the pearl rolled across his tongue, shooting down his throat.
He shoved me aside and fell to his knees, choking. I took my time gathering up my stones before casting a couple waterstones to the ground, turning the ring of fire into a thin sheet of smoke. Another alchemist rushed forward, striking Zheng Sili between the shoulder blades until the pearl popped out.
“Are you actually trying to kill me?” he said, panting. “We’re sparring, not culling each other! There are rules!”
“You were going to bite my fingers off,” I said, feeling oddly defensive as the other alchemists glared at me. No one had said there were rules. Everyone else seemed to fight dirty, so why couldn’t I?
“No, I wasn’t,” he said, another alchemist helping him to his feet. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could have just said so.”
As the wind washed away the smoke, the scowls of all the other alchemists fell into sharp clarity in the sunlight. Would it have been better if I’d lost? Or sacrificed my fingers for their approval? Don’t make friends, Yufei had said. It seemed like that wouldn’t be a problem.
I shoved past them, storming to the inner courtyard. Let them play their games. I had studying to do.
I finally found an unoccupied tree in the shade and threw my bag down, leaning against the trunk. My clothes still smelled of fire and my skin felt singed, but I unrolled my scrolls and started to read anyway, too angry to take in any of the words. I couldn’t help but think about Zheng Sili and what other thousands of alchemy tricks he might know that I didn’t.
I’d only been reading for a few minutes when a pair of silk shoes paused in front of me. I barely even glanced up from my scroll, catching a glimpse of jeweled bracelets probably worth my entire home back in Guangzhou. Was I really going to be a source of entertainment for all the other wealthy alchemists?
“I’m busy,” I said, rereading the last line of my scroll. “I’ll beat you up later, if you’re that desperate.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I was hoping we could continue our conversation from earlier.”
I slid my gaze up the lines of purple fabric, squinting past the sunlight at the face of the Crown Prince.
I tensed, feeling like a lost child who’d just been spotted by a tiger. He knew damn well how much power he had over me, especially here, in his palace. I didn’t want anything to do with someone like that.
He had a teacup in one hand and a scroll tucked under his arm, like he’d snuck away from a tutoring session. He looked more tired than when he’d addressed the other alchemists, and red scratches around his throat peeked out from under his collar. Probably an overzealous concubine, I thought, pursing my lips so I wouldn’t say something rude out loud.
“You spoke so freely in Guangzhou,” he said, when I spent a moment too long staring at him. “Why not now?”
I glanced around but didn’t see any guards or servants attending him. “I don’t think you want me to speak freely right now, Your Highness,” I said sourly.
He grimaced. “I’ve slipped away from my servants, so we’re alone right now,” he said. “You can say what you wish.”
I raised an eyebrow. Surely he was joking. “You won’t behead me for speaking out of turn?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Even if I liked beheading people, the Empress wouldn’t allow it. She’s too fond of collecting alchemists.”
Collecting alchemists? I thought. But there were more pressing questions, and I didn’t know how many I could ask before a servant inevitably found us.
“You were wrong,” I said at last. “You seemed certain you’d be dead by now.”
He nodded, glancing around again. “When you wouldn’t come with me, I took a long path back to Chang’an to buy myself some time. I’ve only just returned, hoping I would find you here.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “You told me you would go to Chang’an to become a royal alchemist. I believed you.”
I blushed, dropping my gaze to the dirt. I hadn’t even fully believed it myself, but for some reason, he had.
“The people you’ve helped with your alchemy, they raved about you,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of me. “They showed me their babies, children they thought were gone forever, who are just now learning to walk.”
I shook my head, drawing back against the tree. “That’s not...” I trailed off. He made me sound like a hero, when I knew full well it had only been a job and nothing more.
He smiled. “You’re so...”
I held my breath, praying his next words wouldn’t be kind or generous or something else that I wasn’t.
“...skilled,” he said at last.
My shoulders relaxed. No one had ever said that to me before. No one had ever really shown that much appreciation for anything I did. I knew it was because I’d always asked for money instead of thanks, but the prince’s words made me feel strangely warm.
“I’ve studied my entire life, but I’ve never done anything with it,” he continued. “Not like you. No one has ever cried tears of joy because of me. I spend all day reading about things that don’t matter.”
To anyone else, his soft smile might have been endearing, but something about his earnestness only reminded me how sharp I felt in comparison. He saw the good in me because he could afford to underestimate people. I was a novelty, but nothing stayed new and shiny forever. The prince would grow bored once he learned I was just a shrewd merchant covered in clay dust, not a hero.
He raised his cup to take a sip, the paint by the handle flaking away at his touch. I grabbed his sleeve, careful not to touch his skin. Commoners weren’t allowed to lay a hand on royalty.
“Zilan xiǎojiě?”
I took the cup from him, held it up to the sun, and scraped away a flake of paint.
“This is lead glazed,” I said. “You can tell because it cracks like alligator scales. You use this glaze for míngqì, not anything meant for drinking.”
“I...will pass your comments on to whoever purchases my cups,” he said, raising an eyebrow and reaching to take it back.
I poured his tea out into the dirt.
He let out a surprised sound. “Zilan—”
“Lead is poison,” I said.
The prince went pale, grabbing his throat. “But my taste tester is fine!”
“Lead takes months to kill someone,” I said, rolling my eyes. “If you’re not sick already, you’ll be fine. Just don’t drink any more.”
I handed him the empty cup, which he took with stiff hands.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “This is actually what I wanted to talk to you about. My return to the palace has been...precarious. Will you come inside with me?” He stood up, his gaze falling on the bite marks on the back of my hand.
“Is that from an animal?” he asked, eyes wide.
I thought back to the rabid look on Zheng Sili’s face. “You could say that.”
“Were you in the rhinoceros garden?”
I blinked. “You have a rhinoceros garden?”
“It was a gift from the prince of Champa, along with some elephants,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll take that as a no. Do you need medicine?”
I closed my eyes, my mind reeling. I remembered Wenshu crying when we ate our last pig a few years ago, meanwhile the royal family kept exotic pets just for entertainment. I looked between the prince’s silk shoes and my own dirty feet.
“Why are you even talking to me?” I said. “I thought I made myself clear last time. I won’t work for you.”
“You were clear that you didn’t want to travel with me to Chang’an,” the prince said, “but now, you’re already here.”
“To study, not to serve you,” I said. “I don’t have time to help you. I haven’t passed the second test yet, and I don’t need you hanging around me, making the others think you bought my place here.”
The prince frowned. “Are the other alchemists giving you trouble? I can talk to them—”
“No,” I said. “Defending me will only look worse.”
“Then what can I say that will convince you?”
“Nothing.”
“Surely there’s something you want?” he said, clutching his cup. “I can give you anything.”
I shook my head, bowing and turning to leave. My dreams couldn’t be bought.
“Please,” he said, taking my sleeve. I jolted back, for his hand had come dangerously close to my bare wrist.
“There is still danger,” he whispered. “The reason I needed your help hasn’t gone away.”
“You seem to be surviving just fine on your own.”
“As I said, I’ve been traveling,” he said, tugging my sleeve again, pulling me a step closer. “But I have duties here. I can’t avoid Chang’an forever.”
“Well, perhaps you should confide in the Emperor about your certain death, and maybe he would protect you,” I said. “What do you think is going to happen to you inside these gilded walls? Will you be crushed under your piles of gold?”
He grimaced. “My father is too ill to do much of anything,” he said, “and I am the heir to the throne. That is a very good reason for many to dislike me.”
I rolled my eyes. “It must be hard to be the wealthiest boy in the kingdom.”
His expression slid into a frown. He released my sleeve, hand falling limp at his side.
“You told me to speak freely,” I said. “Have you changed your mind?”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why does my wealth matter to you so much? Would you help me if I were poor?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “I am poor,” I said, “and you never helped me. Or any of my people.”
“What do you—”
“You cower away from death, like it’s the worst thing that could happen to you, but in Guangzhou, people far younger than you die every day. We live with that fear. We don’t go around begging for help, because we know no one will answer. No one will save us. Least of all the Emperor and his spoiled son.”
I turned and stormed away, and this time, no one tried to stop me.