ã€ŠThe Red Crane of Guilinã€‹


 Prologue

    THE RED CRANE OF GUILIN

    <hr>

    Year 697 of the Ashless Era

    Anjie closed his eyes with Liyun¡¯s trembling hand in his grip, their pulses thundering in tandem. But when he woke, he was alone.

    He was in his bedroom, hued orange by the soft candlelight at his bedside. A night breeze drifted from the windows, stirring the little flames and their smoked wax scent. He breathed in. Lungs stung, a thousand needles. Breathed out. Bones burned, scorched raw. Shaking, he pushed the fresh sheets off his remade body and attempted to stand. His legs shuddered. With a sore, voiceless cry, he collapsed onto the polished wooden floor.

    Gentle string notes seeped through the cracks of his closed door, a distant sound too sharp for his raw ears. He ignored the ache and crawled forward, a weak thing approaching his reflection in the oval mirror. Within the chiseled mahogany frame was the same face, but stark, thin, and hairless. New scars that looked months old lined his scalp, and the deep earth of his irises had faded to a pale, fragile copper. He gripped the arm of a nearby chair and pulled himself upright.

    A red silk robe covered his body. He tugged the sash loose and slipped the upper half from his shoulders, letting the fabric collect around his elbows. Faded incisions layered his chest, patterned lines drawn with mathematical precision. Watching the mirror, he turned around. Inked across the span of his back was the traditional crane of House Guan. Her long throat arched, vulnerable. Her eyes dared anyone to mar her canvas.

    Anjie leaned against the chair and slid a hand over his face. His fingers closed over his lips, holding back the flood of emotions. The relief that he lived. The weight of the ink. The lost, shaken uncertainty. The insidious fear, making it hard to breathe. But he breathed, deeply, three times.

    He retied his robe and straightened his back. He left the room limping.

    Tonight, the corridors of his home were somber and dark. When he reached the source of that string melody, a pit filled his gut.

    The music came from the tea room. Beneath the archway to the night garden, a young boy looked up. His small fingers hovered over his instrument strings, frozen. His lower lip trembled. Beside this boy, a younger child bolted upright, spilling a cup of tea over the wooden floor. He ran toward Anjie, colliding at his waist with a stifled whimper.

    Hearing the broken sound, Anjie fell to his knees. He held his little brother in his arms, those wrenched cries muffled in his robes. He looked up at the First Lord and Lady Guan, sitting behind a table, quiet among the tears of their children. A painted calligraphy character hung on the wall above their heads.

    Duty.

    ¡°Liyun,¡± said Anjie.

    His father touched his teacup. His mother shook her head.

    A silence.

    ¡°What went wrong?¡±

    ¡°Nothing went wrong, Ah-Jie. She simply could not endure it.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Anjie looked down at the woven floor mat, the details of the straw sharp to the grain. Liyun? Could not endure? His fierce, infallible sister, twice as strong as he was. Then how had he survived? He clutched his chest, which seemed to be tearing apart beneath the new insulation, the reinforcement implants, the titanium bones. It seemed now that the crane upon his back weighed a hundred tons for each dot of ink. His vision burned. Threatened to blur.

    ¡°Ah-Jie.¡±

    He looked up. The First Lord of House Guan poured a second cup of tea.

    ¡°Come.¡±

    Swallowing, Anjie gently pulled aside his brother. He rose against the weight and the ache, and sat with folded legs across his Lord and Lady. His heart kept burning, beating itself raw against his cold new bones. But expressionless, he wore his body unbent.

    ¡°Hold your tears now, my son. The spirit of House Guan cannot be daunted. Tomorrow we will celebrate a new crane.¡± His father set the cup softly before Anjie. A thin chrysanthemum petal rolled along the golden liquid. ¡°When the full moon passes, you may grieve.¡±

    He drank. The lukewarm tea scalded. Days later, the full moon passed.

    They buried his sister within a southern hill of the Guilin mountains, where the river streamed into the turquoise lake. Her body was restored as much as it could be to its natural state so that the earth might embrace the return of her soul. Nobody was permitted into the operation room while their shamans performed the restoration. After the restoration, nobody was permitted to touch the clothes that covered her body.

    The funeral was brief. After days of feigning an iron spirit, Anjie could no longer cry when they sealed the lid of her coffin. He only soothed the trembling of his little brothers, dreading the day when they too would mature into their bones, and their bones would be recrafted to mirror the gods.

    The days went by. The weeks went by. The months. He stopped visiting her grave. Instead, Anjie passed the lonely stone bridge in the mornings and tossed fresh flowers for the stream. Sometimes he stayed a while, watching the sun rise and the petals disperse.

    One morning, it rained. He meant to send the flowers and be on his way, but the drops beating his fallen petals into the water kept his feet grounded on that stone bridge. The rain washed over him, drenching. The petals disappeared in an unceremonious rush.

    A shadow fell over him.

    Anjie turned beneath the shelter of a red umbrella. Holding it was a young man, appearing as rough and as wild as the unadulterated beauty of Guilin, a languid, crooked smile on his lips. His eyes crinkled in their corners. A damp, curling lock of black hair plastered to his forehead.

    With a gentle, windblown voice, he said, ¡°As lovely as you look standing under the rain, you really shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    Anjie frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve not seen you here before.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve only been here for two weeks.¡± The man reached into his shirt. He pulled out a folded parchment and offered it. ¡°Here. I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Anjie took the parchment. It was tough, thick. Smelled of old wood and graphite. When he lifted the fold, he blinked in surprise. He looked up at the stranger, who smiled a little softer.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been coming here for a while. I couldn¡¯t help but notice, and then I couldn¡¯t help myself. You can keep it. Toss it. Whatever you would like.¡±

    Anjie¡¯s wet fingers hovered over the image, afraid to touch. The profile of a figure on a bridge, delicacy in every stroke. Soft eyebrows drew as faint as a whisper, lips parted as if trembling. The graphite man looked like he was about to cry.

    Anjie did not know how long he stood looking at this picture. He only startled as a warm, wet drop splattered the sketched cheek. With a rare panic, he wiped at the drop. But his hands were still rain-soaked.

    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    The man caught his guilty, wavering fingers. His touch was as rough as his make, warm as his smile. Anjie looked at his kind eyes and could not turn away.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± said the man. ¡°If you like it, I can make you another.¡±

    In the pause, the mountain rain drummed. A rhythmless, relentless wash, and yet a gentle constance.

    ¡°I¡¯m Musheng,¡± said the man eventually.

    ¡°Anjie.¡± Softly, ¡°Guan An Jie.¡±

 Character/Location Reference List

    CHARACTERS

    <hr>

    The Guan Family

    Guan Anjie - Eldest Guan brother

    Guan Jinyue - Middle Guan brother

    Guan Wenzhan - Youngest Guan brother

    Guan Wenbo - Youngest Guan sibling, a ten year old girl

    Guan Baisun - Mute Guan woman, aunt to Anjie and siblings

    Guan Sanhai - Guan family head doctor and shaman

    Guan Ruotian - Twelve year old niece of Sanhai

    Guan Liutian - A shaman doctor who''s been living outside of Guilin

    Mu Ziyuan - Agender right hand of the First Lord

    Su Cailan - Seventeen year old attendant to Guan Jinyue

    Feng Sueyi - A member of the crane generation from before Anjie''s lordship

    Zhang Yelu - A nine year old girl of the householdThis story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Zhang Lanyu - A crane who has been living outside of Guilin

    Xi Mona - A crane who has been living outside of Guilin

    Guan Liyun - Deceased eldest sister of the Guan family

    Guan Haizhen - Former First Lord of House Guan, father of the Guan brothers

    Na Mingbo - Second wife of Guan Haizhen, Wenbo''s mother

    Jie Zhaliu - First wife of Guan Haizhen, mother of the Guan brothers

    Other

    Jun Musheng - An artist Anjie meets in Guilin in Year 697

    Lin Suzha - A female student at the Guilin provincial college, affiliated with Wenzhan

    Yu Ling - Deceased king of Yulai

    Chang Dazhe - A foreign visitor to Guilin in August, charged with rape by House Guan

    Quan Caihe - Regent of Anzhou

    LOCATIONS

    <hr>

    Guilin

    Guilin - A small autonomous valley province. Present-day Jiuzhaigou National Park.

    Rizhai - The central town in Guilin. Located near the valley split.

    Guilinhe - A village on the outskirts of the Rizhai township. Location of the Guan estate.

    Beicheng - Northmost town of Guilin province.

    Other

    Anzhou - A state of the continent, encompassing the region of what was formerly China beneath the Yangtze river to the Tibetan plateau.

    Yincheng - A modern coastal city, capital of Anzhou.

    Beiguo - A state of the continent, encompassing the region above the Yangtze to the northern border.

    Shanjing - A mountain city, capital of Beiguo.

    Xijia - A state of the continent, encompassing the western plateau and desert regions of what was formerly China.

    Mosanguo - Capital of Xijia.

    Yulai - A former state of the continent, once encompassing the area between the Yangtze and the Yellow River, excluding the autonomous province of Guilin.

    Tianxin - Formerly the continental empire, existing from 149 to 296 of the Ashless Era.

 Part I: The House of Guardians | 1

    August 29th, 712 A.E.

    The soft trickles of the garden pond laced with the morning birdsong and the young woman¡¯s repressed sobs. She was a delicate girl, no older than twenty, small and doe-eyed. With a heavy shawl wrapped over her body, she seemed not to feel the late summer warmth. In fact, her slender fingers trembled beneath the hem of her nightgown. As the shawl was gently removed, those fingers clutched bone white, and the trembling shivered up to the line of her bruised shoulders.

    ¡°Here,¡± said the old woman at her side, pointing at the bruises. She grabbed the young woman¡¯s arm and pulled up her sleeve, brandishing the pale skin. Hard finger lines lingered. ¡°And here. Look, my lord. And there¡¯s more¡ªmy lord, do not make me show you. Please, we tell the truth.¡±

    Guan Jinyue folded his fan and sighed.

    ¡°The lady hasn¡¯t taken a proper breath since we met,¡± he said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to convince me.¡±

    The old woman bowed her head, her silvering hair falling in loose strands from a tired bun.

    ¡°Laomeng knows these trivial matters are not for House Guan, my lord, but we¡¯ve gone to the Provincial Council and they turned us away. The Council says the man is not of Guilin, so they can¡¯t touch him. But my daughter will have these scars for the rest of her life. He is a vile pig¡ªno, a¡ªa¡ª¡±

    ¡°A lump of dog shit,¡± supplied Jinyue.

    The woman, who referred to herself as Laomeng, clapped the ground and pressed her head to the wood.

    ¡°My lord, my lord, please¡ªLaomeng asks for justice. If that man doesn¡¯t have another finger to lay on a woman, we could be satisfied. But anything you can do, any time you can spare¡­¡±

    Jinyue beckoned a hand. A moment later, a young attendant knelt at his side. He said to the girl, ¡°See if the doctor can free up an hour for this young woman.¡±

    The attendant nodded and left.

    Alone with the two women, Jinyue said, ¡°The matter is not trivial for House Guan. Your protection is our responsibility. Now, you say that this man is a cousin?¡±

    The older woman, having clasped her hands in flustered gratitude, nodded intensely. ¡°A distant cousin. He hasn¡¯t been in Guilin for decades. His family left after the Four Unions. But with the outside war being what it is, he¡¯s claimed his old ties again.¡±

    ¡°Yet his citizenship is...?¡±

    ¡°In Anzhou. I believe he plans to return when the war is done.¡±

    Jinyue tapped the edge of his fan to his chin. No wonder the Council refused to intervene in even a case as damning as rape. Guilin was a tiny, autonomous province, far outsized by the sprawling nation-state of Anzhou. The Guilin Provincial Council was a political entity presided by privileged old folk and played their cards cautiously, like pampered mice. But House Guan¡¯s only obligation was to the wellbeing of Guilin and its people.

    ¡°Where is he staying now?¡±

    ¡°With my sister¡¯s family, in Beicheng.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have our doctor take care of your daughter. We¡¯ll leave afterward for Beicheng and bring the man back here. He¡¯ll have a hearing, of course. And he¡¯ll be given the judgment of the First Lord.¡±

    ¡°My lord! Laomeng cannot thank you enough.¡±

    ¡°There is no need, Mrs. Meng,¡± said Jinyue, standing. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of duty.¡±

    He saw the two women through the Guan estate to their shaman-doctor, who had cleared her ward for them at the message of his attendant. On his way out, a shadow in his peripheral caught his attention. He faced the corridor. A small figure popped out from behind a hall pillar, wearing a lazily tied shirt and a wide, toothy grin¡ªGuan Wenbo, the youngest of the four Guan siblings, and nearly the wildest. Her cropped hair had clearly not been brushed since she got out of bed, and a smear of chocolate dotted the corner of her lips. Frowning, Jinyue wondered how her breakfast crumbs had migrated to the top of her head.

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you at school today, Bobo?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sick,¡± said the ten year old, bright-eyed as ever.

    ¡°Then why aren¡¯t you resting?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that sick.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re well enough to be tailing me, you¡¯re well enough to be sitting in a classroom.¡±

    Little Wenbo made a face, the corner of her mouth curling. ¡°An-Ge said I don¡¯t have to go today. Else I¡¯ll get everyone else sick, you know?¡± Suddenly, she hopped over to Jinyue¡¯s side and tugged at his hand, her earlier retorts replaced with excitement. ¡°But I¡¯m better now. Look, Jin-Ge! Touch my head. See?¡±

    The girl was indeed coming off the high of a quick fever. Jinyue sighed at little Wenbo¡¯s reins-free enthusiasm and started walking toward his chambers.

    ¡°Can I come with you to Beicheng?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s a long trip and you¡¯ve got work to do.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You do. You¡¯re going to transcribe the next chapter of Modern Era and practice your zither.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°No buts.¡± Jinyue paused and peered at his little sister. With the corner of his sleeve, he wiped the chocolate smear from her face. ¡°If you want to go to Beicheng, I¡¯ll take you this weekend. But only if you can play me a clean Origins.¡±

    The girl didn¡¯t look pleased, but she sauntered off nonetheless. Jinyue imagined she had plans to procrastinate for several hours. Fortunately, the other children of the house were at school, which meant his sister had limited company to stall with. He could only hope the adults wouldn¡¯t indulge her.

    Twenty minutes later, Jinyue returned to the wards where he found the elderly Mrs. Meng waiting. They left her daughter under the care of the Guan family doctor. Jinyue¡¯s attendant had already prepared the horsewagon at the estate entrance, a simple darkwood vehicle led by a cinnamon mare.

    The attendant drove. They followed the valley paths north, out of the central Rizhai town and surrounding village cluster. Late summer, the landscape was rich with vivid greens, the lakes and rivers their famed turquoise blue. Come autumn, a hundred colors would paint the banks and forests, the ethereal image of old heaven. Since the great wars of the Modern Era, few places in the world retained their untarnished natural beauty. The isolation of the Guilin valley, the self-sustaining ecology, the historical reverence of its beauty¡ªthese had all preserved it through the centuries of nuclear ash. Even now, seven hundred years after the world¡¯s return to simpler time, Guilin alone held on to its innocence. No exorbitant electric luxuries, no indulgence in the cybernetic advancements of its surrounding states, no god-seeking science remaking nature. None except within the hidden chambers of the Guardian House of Guan, who sacrificed even their humanity for the protection of this vulnerable, sacred place.

    It was not a large province. Guilin consisted only of three towns, and the leisurely ride from the central town to the northern Beicheng took a little under two hours. The people of Beicheng recognized the driving attendant¡¯s pure white garments underlined with deep black and vivid maroon; though not a Guan by blood, the attendant was a member of the household and so bore their colors. An intentional practice: House Guan, after all, was not some vague and ghostly entity, but a symbol and a pillar for the people of Guilin. They dressed to be known.

    The townspeople stared and whispered in curious delight. When Jinyue exited the horsewagon, several recognized him as well. A few bowed with a respectful Master Guan as he passed, following Mrs. Meng up the stairs of a wooden two-story building. At the door on the second floor, she knocked.

    The door creaked open moments later, revealing the haggard face of another woman. This woman flitted sunken eyes between Mrs. Meng and Jinyue, then stiffly pulled the door further back and moved aside. With a sigh, she said, ¡°Second door back.¡±

    Mrs. Meng looked at Jinyue. Jinyue thanked their haggard host and found the second door back. With his attendant and Mrs. Meng at his back, he knocked.

    ¡°Excuse me. Mr¡­¡±

    ¡°Chang,¡± whispered Mrs. Meng. ¡°Chang Dazhe.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Chang,¡± said Jinyue. ¡°May we come in?¡±

    Heavy footsteps. The door swung open. A man with short hair, a graphic shirt, and sweatpants appeared behind the frame. None of these three things were common in Guilin, whose men wore their hair bald or long, whose fashion was elegant, flowing, and simple. The man stopped in the midst of scratching his nose to glower at Jinyue.

    ¡°What do you¡­¡±

    His eyes widened, spotting the elderly woman at Jinyue¡¯s side. Then they narrowed, and he scoffed.

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°My name is Guan Jinyue, of the Guardian House of Guilin. Mrs. Meng came to us this morning with her daughter, whom they say you assaulted. I must admit, the wounds looked quite severe, and that¡¯s not yet speaking of the young lady¡¯s mental state. The matter must be addressed, so I have to ask you to return to House Guan with me.¡±

    The man shook his head and crossed his arms. ¡°I didn¡¯t touch her.¡±

    ¡°You lying dog¡ª¡±

    Jinyue placed a hand on the furious Mrs. Meng and spoke to Chang. ¡°That will be for the First Lord of House Guan to judge.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. Get your police if you want to put me on trial. Get a fucking warrant. Who are you to order me around?¡±

    In a smooth motion, Jinyue drew the curved sword at his hip. Before Chang could so much as stagger, the steel tip hovered a hair¡¯s breadth below his chin. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°My name is Guan Jinyue,¡± he repeated, ¡°of the Guardian House of Guilin. You have been accused of raping a woman of Guilin. So you will come with me.¡±

    ¡°This is illegal,¡± said the man.

    ¡°Which law do you cite?¡±

    The man balked. ¡°This is fucking illegal.¡±

    ¡°Do we have to restrain you and carry you back, Mr. Chang?¡±

    The man glanced at Jinyue¡¯s weapon. Cursing, he went.

    They ended up restraining the man anyway, after he attempted to run once they left the building. While the attendant watched him in the wagon, Mrs. Meng brought Jinyue to their village house where the assault occurred. Jinyue took a quick survey of the shed, noting the strewn hay and the sprawled tools, the specks of blood and torn hair strands. As predisposed as he was to believe an injured, trembling girl of his province, the justice for rape was severe and he dared not supply it without evidence. Satisfied for now, he returned the group to the Guan estate.

    It was mid-afternoon when they arrived. Jinyue secured the accused Chang in a private room and brought Mrs. Meng to her daughter in the medical wards. The shaman doctor Sanhai was tending to another visitor at the moment. After the treated man left, Jinyue approached her.

    ¡°How is the girl?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll recover from the injuries. It¡¯s always harder to say with the psychological damage.¡±

    Jinyue nodded. ¡°And my brother?¡±

    ¡°At the college.¡±

    ¡°No, I meant¡ª¡±

    ¡°Anjie¡¯s at the college,¡± said the doctor Sanhai, raising an elegant eyebrow. ¡°Fixing your little brother¡¯s problems, again.¡± The corner of her lips curved faintly. ¡°We¡¯re lucky Wenzhan picked these past few peaceful years to throw his fits. Else I doubt Anjie would have had enough spare energy to deal with the invasions.¡±

    ¡°What did he do this time?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Anjie didn¡¯t look happy.¡±

    Jinyue sighed and rubbed his brow. ¡°I¡¯ll try to speak with him later.¡±

    Later did not come for quite a while. It was evening by the time Anjie returned, and their younger brother still hadn¡¯t appeared. With suppertime coinciding, the visiting women and detained men were fed before the hearing. Jinyue briefed Anjie on their case over a quick meal. Afterward, they convened in the central hall.

    The hall was a ceremonially decorated place with new mahogany pillars and intricate framework. Traditional calligraphy hung in a large scroll across the northern rear wall: The mountains in our bones; the rivers in our veins; the earth in our hearts; the heavens in our souls. Despite the space that could easily hold the hundred members of the Guan household, only seven were in attendance tonight. The two women sat with the doctor Sanhai on the mat between the eastern pillars of the room, and Jinyue accompanied the detained man in the southern center. The place between the western pillars was reserved for the primary branch of the household, the Guan descendants, always held witness to the judgments of the First Lord. Right now, only two people occupied that space¡ªJinyue¡¯s mute aunt, reading a book without a care for the rest of the room, and little Wenbo, picking at the corner of the sitting mat. Jinyue frowned pointedly at his sister until she finally glanced up and grinned at him, guiltily hiding her hands.

    Beside Jinyue, the detained man was hunched. Perhaps worn by the day or daunted by the mood of the hall. The young woman was stiff in the presence of her assaulter, and her mother only held her hand in grim silence. The others in the room were accustomed to waiting, and so they waited.

    Not for long. The shadows of the northwest archway flickered. The First Lord of House Guan entered the hall. Behind him came his righthand: a handsome and willowed beauty by the name Mu Ziyuan, who presented as neither man nor woman. With a graceful sweep of his crane white robes, Guan Anjie took his place beneath the the calligraphy script, between the characters vein and heart. His unmarred fingers rested calmly over the knees of his crossed legs, his rich hair spilling free down the straight line of his back. His unearthly metallic eyes swept the hall.

    If the visitors were quiet before his entrance, a deathly stillness covered them now. Jinyue did not blame them; his eldest brother, particularly when he presented as the First Lord, was a striking presence. Perhaps even more so for the women, who knew the Guilin history and the stories of the Red Crane. But even the foreign Chang Dazhe hunched a little further. After all, it did not take stories to see that daunting beauty, to feel that oppressive, ethereal dominance.

    Between the west pillars, their mute aunt closed her book. Little Wenbo sat up straighter.

    Anjie¡¯s gaze hesitated over their mat. It was a brief linger, returning to the full hall a second later.

    ¡°My brother has summarized matters for me, so there is no need for the preliminaries. I will hear Lady Yin and Chang Dazhe speak. Lady Yin?¡±

    The elderly Mrs. Meng helped her daughter to the center of the hall. The young woman was no longer wearing her shawl, and any calm she had reclaimed throughout the day seemed to evaporate as she knelt with the accused Chang Dazhe at her back. Her shoulders began to tremble.

    Her mother grasped her hand and bowed at Anjie. ¡°My lord, please, let me speak on her behalf. My daughter has suffered¡ª¡±

    Anjie held up a hand. Mrs. Meng fell silent.

    ¡°Your daughter is the one he wronged, Madame Meng. The story is hers to tell.¡± He looked at the trembling Lady Yin. ¡°My lady, I will not lift a hand against this man without your words.¡±

    The trembling intensified. Mrs. Meng rubbed her daughter¡¯s back, whispering encouragement. Jinyue looked at his brother, his expression unmoved by the pressure he exerted on this battered young woman. Yet it could not be helped: only if the victim spoke could House Guan determine the final truth of the matter. Jinyue swallowed, holding his tongue through the girl¡¯s silence.

    After a long pause, Anjie spoke with hint of softness.

    ¡°My lady, whatever the man may have taken from you, he did not take your voice as well.¡±

    The fabric of the young woman¡¯s shirt stretched over her shoulders. With a sharp shudder, she inhaled.

    Her first words were barely audible.

    ¡°I was in the garden last night.¡±

    They listened. The accused Chang Dazhe only stiffened and swallowed, his hands occasionally clutching white at parts of her unsteady recounting. Between the west pillars, little Wenbo began to sniff quietly. After the young lady Yin had finished in tears, Anjie glanced downcast to his right, waiting for the flawless perceptions of his righthand. Behind him, the righthand Mu Ziyuan nodded once.

    Anjie turned toward the east pillars. ¡°Doctor?¡±

    The doctor Sanhai moved a few paces into the center and knelt. ¡°Her injuries were consistent with everything she said. The bruising in particular¡ª¡± She paused, glancing westward. They all did. A tall, broad figure had entered the hall, shirt loosely tucked and outer garment skewd. A bruise on his lower lip, a mess in his rebellious short hair. Guan Wenzhan, the third Guan brother. He sat between the west pillars next to his little sister, refusing to look at anyone except the guests. Sanhai cleared her throat and continued. ¡°The bruising in particular suggests the young lady was forcibly held down.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Anjie. ¡°Madame Meng, Lady Yin, you may return to your seats.¡±

    The women did just that. In the meantime, Jinyue eyed his little brother. At twenty, Guan Wenzhan wasn¡¯t so little anymore. But he certainly felt like it, in the worst possible way. Even at this distance, Jinyue¡¯s enhanced senses picked up the alcohol.

    Wenzhan¡¯s eyes flickered to Jinyue. They stayed for a brief moment before falling to the ground.

    Jinyue sighed. He was nearly surprised when the accused Chang Dazhe trudged forward from his side. He hadn¡¯t been paying attention when Anjie had asked the man to come forward.

    Chang Dazhe walked to the center and stayed standing. Shoulders spread, chin lifted, he looked down at the seated Lord Guan.

    ¡°You can play at lordling all you want, but this is pointless.¡±

    ¡°Do you deny the lady¡¯s words?¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one who did it.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s lying!¡± said Madame Meng.

    Anjie held up a hand for the elderly woman again. To the accused Chang Dazhe, ¡°You did not do what?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t rape her,¡± said Chang Dazhe.

    Anjie looked toward his right, a wordless question. Behind him, the righthand Ziyuan¡¯s clear copper eyes bore into the standing man. After a moment, Ziyuan said, ¡°Lie.¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t even in the village last night.¡±

    ¡°Lie,¡± said Ziyuan.

    ¡°You can ask my cousin! Shit, I¡¯ve got a woman, a real woman. Why the fuck would I want to touch a little rabbit like this one here?¡±

    ¡°Lie,¡± said Ziyuan.

    The man snarled. ¡°Fuck you. I¡¯m not lying. I didn¡¯t do it. And you¡¯ve got no proof that I did, just the words of a few crying women and a¡ªwhatever the hell that one is.¡±

    Before the man¡¯s mouth had shut, Anjie had stood. Level, he stared down the man with cold eyes.

    The accused Chang Dazhe took a step back. Jinyue could smell the fear on him.

    ¡°This¡ªthis is illegal¡ªyou¡¯ll hang¡ª¡±

    Their eyes did not follow the speed of the next motion. Jinyue only blinked, and then Anjie¡¯s sheathed sword was in his hand, knocking clean into Chang Dazhe¡¯s legs. With a graceless cry, Chang Dazhe fell to his knees.

    The sheathed sword returned to its proper place. The Lord Guan spoke down at the shocked man.

    ¡°You breathe the air of Guilin. Here I need neither proof nor law to pass judgment.¡±

    Anjie¡¯s hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

    ¡°Let this be a lesson to you, Chang Dazhe. The people of Guilin are not yours to touch.¡±

    The blade glinted briefly under the hall¡¯s warm light. It sank back into its sheath as quickly as it was drawn. A moment of silence passed. It appeared that Chang Dazhe was oblivious to what had happened until he suddenly screamed, clutching at his crotch. Blood seeped slowly through his sweatpants.

    Anjie turned to the doctor Sanhai. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, Doctor.¡±

    Sanhai inclined her head and went to lug the screaming, flailing man out of the room. She¡¯d give him the emergency treatment, and then he would be cockless. Of course, once the man returned to Anzhou, he could buy the procedure to regrow the lost appendage. If he had the money for it.

    To the women, Anjie said while the man was still in the room, ¡°If he has not left Guilin by the morning, I will see him out personally.¡±

    ¡°Th-thank you, my lord. Thank you so much.¡±

    ¡°It is late. You may stay the night. I will have someone escort you home tomorrow.¡±

    His righthand Ziyuan appeared at his side and bowed at the women. ¡°I¡¯ll show you to your rooms.¡±

    A few more flustered thanks fell from their lips, tears from the young woman¡¯s eyes, and then they left with Ziyuan. Anjie turned to face the remaining Guan family members. He paused for a moment, waiting for any response to what had just transpired. Tonight they were quiet, for despite the harsh maiming of the rapist, Ziyuan¡¯s eyes caught all truths, and rape was intolerable in the Guan family halls. In their silence, Anjie said, ¡°Get some rest.¡±

    Aunt Baisun smiled, picked up her book, and left. Little Wenbo lingered. Jinyue went to collect his sister. But when his brother Wenzhan turned to go, Anjie spoke up again.

    ¡°Not you.¡±

    Wenzhan paused. Sensing what was coming, Jinyue tugged little Wenbo out of the south exit.

    The exit opened to a corridor, and the corridor opened to their main courtyard. Jinyue managed to pull little Wenbo into the courtyard before the girl stopped walking. He looked back at her, a faint pout and a frown etched into her expression, and then he relented to their curiosities. He pointed at the walkway of the courtyard, just beyond the corridor and the central hall.

    ¡°Over there. Sit.¡±

    Little Wenbo beamed at him and hopped over silently. Jinyue followed, planting himself over the wooden rise of the walkway. He leaned against a nearby pillar and pursed his lips as Wenbo ignored his last word and wandered to the edge of the corridor entrance, clearly eavesdropping.

    Jinyue could pick up a faint undercurrent of tone from where he sat, though not the words. It was easy to tell who was speaking. His older brother¡¯s voice was soft, patient even when his younger brother was at his most trying. His younger brother¡¯s voice was rough, curt, occasionally a growling mumble. He had been this way for years¡ªnothing like the transparent, clingy boy that used to follow Anjie wherever he went and cry when Jinyue was mad at him. Lately, his delinquency and misbehavior had been getting worse. His cutting words would lash out even at Anjie every so often. Actually, in particularly at Anjie.

    Jinyue had a faint idea of what was wrong. It hurt his heart to think about it, so he promised he would not pry unless his younger brother came to him.

    It was not long before hard, rushed footsteps built toward the exit. His younger brother walked past them without a glance, wearing a rigid look on his face.

    ¡°Wenzhan!¡±

    He didn¡¯t turn around at Jinyue¡¯s call. Just disappeared out of the courtyard.

    A moment later, Anjie emerged as well.

    ¡°An-Ge?¡± said little Wenbo. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Wen-Ge?¡±

    Anjie shook his head. ¡°I think he¡¯s rather sick of speaking with me. Ah-Yue, will you look after him? He¡¯s not in a good place right now.¡±

    Jinyue nodded.

    Anjie held out a hand to little Wenbo. ¡°Ah-Bo, let¡¯s go. It¡¯s bedtime.¡±

    Their sister took Anjie¡¯s hand and clung to his side, small hands digging into his robes and shoulders secure under a gentle touch. An image flashed through Jinyue¡¯s memory of a younger Wenzhan doing the same. With a hidden sigh, Jinyue watched his siblings disappear around the corridor, then hurried to catch up with his tumultuous brother.

 Part I: The House of Guardians | 2

    Past dusk, the fields of Guilinhe village were empty and the solar energy collected throughout the day was humming in dim, warm lights along the wooden street posts. Wenzhan ignored the balking bows of the few passing villagers and wandered to the far southern corner of the village. There, he slammed the counter of a tiny outlet shop. Orange lanterns swung below the worn shop canopy, loosening floating dust in the enhanced sharpness of his peripheral vision. Past the counter, a large shadow shifted behind the rows of stock.

    ¡°Yeah, comin¡¯,¡± said the shopkeeper, grunting as he stumbled over a sack of rice. A moment later, he spotted Wenzhan and straightened his casual slouch. ¡°Master Guan! What can I¡ª¡±

    Wenzhan slapped four large coins onto the countertop. ¡°Tiange, cold.¡±

    ¡°Cold, yeah, right away¡­¡±

    The shopkeeper disappeared into the backroom of the outlet. A few moments later, he reappeared with a round bottle of strong liquor, the glass perspiring from its storage in the cool undercellar. That pleased look on the man¡¯s gruff face stuttered as he saw Wenzhan¡¯s expression. Or maybe it was when he smelled the alcohol already on Wenzhan¡¯s breath. Wenzhan grunted a curt thanks and then plopped down on the mud steps of the shop, tossing the cork and tossing a long draft down his throat. The liquid burned, immediately easing that hideous feeling in his gut.

    He had hit Anjie. He had hit Anjie, of all people¡ªfor nothing more than gently grasping his shoulder and trying to calm him down. For not even raising his gentle voice when he pressed on why Wenzhan had skipped the college lectures for the dozenth time. He¡¯d knocked his brother¡¯s hand off like it was a vile thing, and that soft hurt in his brother¡¯s eyes cut Wenzhan to the bone. But how could he say that it wasn¡¯t Anjie, it was Wenzhan who was the vile one? That Anjie shouldn¡¯t sully his beautiful hands on his wretched little brother.

    He tossed another draft back. Eventually, another. Dazed, he knocked his head against the shop pillar. Once. Twice. Thrice¡ª

    And hit something soft.

    Wenzhan looked up. Jinyue stood over him, his palm protecting Wenzhan¡¯s skull from the hard wooden pillar. Wenzhan must be terribly inebriated, an exacerbation of his state from earlier in the evening, to not have noticed someone come up right next to him.

    He looked down quickly. The image of perfect, flawless Jinyue, down to the precision of his braided hair with not even a strand out of place, was hard to bear. Wenzhan was painfully aware of his own shorn hair, his skewed clothes. But he couldn¡¯t hold anything against his brother, who quietly sat down at his side and took the liquor bottle from his hands.

    ¡°Jin¡ª¡±

    Jinyue lifted the bottle to his own lips and drank. A line trickled from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his clean white sleeves. The liquor was tinted yellow, and so his crane white was tainted yellow. Afterward, he handed the bottle back to Wenzhan.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t wise to drink alone.¡±

    Wenzhan didn¡¯t say anything.

    Jinyue placed a gentle hand on Wenzhan¡¯s shoulder, as Anjie had done. And yet, it felt nothing like Anjie¡¯s touch. It didn¡¯t scald. It didn¡¯t strike the urge to run away.

    ¡°I won¡¯t ask what¡¯s wrong. But Wenzhan, you don¡¯t have to fight it alone.¡±

    Wenzhan shook his head. He drank.

    ¡°I do,¡± he whispered. ¡°I really fucking do.¡±

    The hand on his shoulder tightened. ¡°Look at me, Wenzhan. Look. I¡¯m sure Anjie would say the same, but he isn¡¯t here now, so I¡¯ll say it.¡± He gripped Wenzhan¡¯s hand, his earthen eyes firm. ¡°I am your brother. I don¡¯t care what it is. I don¡¯t care why. If you need me, I¡¯m here for you.¡±

    His throat dried. Lungs filled. Wenzhan tore away and buried his face in his hands, the liquor spilling on the ground, his nails digging into his scalp.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know,¡± he said, voice breaking. ¡°You have no idea.¡±

    ¡°I know my little brother,¡± said Jinyue. ¡°I know how much he treasures our big brother. And I know he would never treat Anjie like this without good reason.¡± Jinyue tilted his head forward, touching Wenzhan¡¯s shoulder again. Softly, he said, ¡°Wenzhan, if you want me to know, I will say that it¡¯s not your fault. If you don¡¯t want me to know, I will say as I have been saying. I will always be on your side.¡±

    Wenzhan broke into tears¡ªugly, choked tears. Through the heavy inebriation swirled a horror that Jinyue¡¯s sincerity was a thorough one¡ªthat he knew. And the horror slowly nudged a weight off his back. He let his brother pull his larger form against those prim white robes. He buried his eyes over his brother¡¯s shoulders, soaking the layers through.

    Come morning, he was going to regret this weakness. Wenzhan had not cried on his brothers¡¯ shoulders since their parents passed. He had taken painstaking care, especially in the last few years, to recraft who he was among the Guan siblings. Not the vulnerable third. But for now, he felt ten, comforted in the kind embrace of his stronger brothers.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell him,¡± he whispered. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell him.¡±

    Jinyue stroked his shorn hair and hushed him. ¡°It is not my place.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll hate me.¡±

    ¡°He would never.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll hate me.¡±

    ¡°He loves you.¡±

    Wenzhan sobbed. They sat like that for long time. Eventually, speaking. Of what, Wenzhan was not sure, because his voice came out in slurs and mumbles and his ears took words in warped cuts. He vaguely felt the dirt road beneath his feet, the rich evening breeze of the valley forest. The white sleeves in his clutch. Everything else, came morning, slipped from his memory.

    <hr>

    Dawn light filtered through the sheer curtains of the master bedchamber, casting a warm hue to Anjie¡¯s sleeping profile. It was not that Anjie had a cold aura, but asleep, he was more like the spring river than the summer hearth. He¡¯d moved a little in his sleep, loose hair sprawling over the pillows. Smiling mischievously, Wenbo pinched two loose locks between her fingers and carefully folded the strands beneath his nose, making a terrible moustache. The strands pricked his smooth skin. His brow drew in a faint wince, and a small noise escaped his lips. His fingers stretched forward. ¡°Mu¡­¡±

    His eyes flickered open.

    Wenbo giggled, dropping the fake moustache.

    As if surprised to see her, Anjie blinked. A pause later, he smiled softly.

    ¡°Ah-Bo. What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Making you a mustache. Are you awake?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m awake.¡±

    Wenbo hopped off the bed and tugged down his covers. ¡°Can we play?¡±

    Anjie pushed upright, rubbing his eyes. ¡°What do you want to play?¡±

    ¡°Cranes!¡±

    He laughed, a sound still tinged with sleep. ¡°Go and get changed. I¡¯ll meet you in the training hall.¡±

    Making a gleeful noise, Wenbo ran back to her own room and dove into her wardrobe, tossing aside wrinkled clothes until she found her light black garments. The training halls were in the east wing of the estate, and at the dawn hour, the ring of rooms were heavily occupied by the habitual morning exercises. The training hall, the one Anjie meant, was located in the far east center, a polished room reserved for the First Lord alone. In terms of decor, it was sparse. A single painting draped down the back wall, a red-crowned crane arched in a proud stance. Wenbo plopped down in front of the painting while she waited for her brother, her eyes tracing the elegant lines of that magnificent form.

    Wenbo had seen the crane on the backs of her two older brothers. She was seven when they inked it into Jinyue. Many other warriors of the house wore it as well, and at least a dozen had gotten theirs within Wenbo¡¯s memory. Feng Sueyi, an older crane with the same light copper eyes as Anjie and Aunt Baisun and Ziyuan, once said that the new cranes were fake cranes, that they hadn¡¯t earned the ink¡ªthat one only needed to look at their human eyes to know they were imposters of the sacred bird. Wenbo remembered that moment vividly: they had been holding evening practice, and Jinyue was helping Wenbo with her lunges. Her second brother had never looked as pained as when those words drifted over.

    Wenbo mentioned the incident to Anjie later. The next day, Anjie took Feng Sueyi to the Guan ancestral hall, where they burned incense for the deceased. They were in there alone for a long time. When Feng Sueyi walked out, his chiseled face was stark, and he prostrated himself in front of Jinyue, begging forgiveness. Nobody ever talked about fake cranes after that.

    Wenbo didn¡¯t understand it all. She just knew that the crane was a special mark, that it made a person a true guardian of Guilin. That it took no more and no less than Anjie¡¯s approval to be bestowed the image, and that if she had her eldest brother¡¯s approval, she had nothing in the world to fear.

    ¡°Just you wait,¡± she said to the lofty bird. ¡°I¡¯ll catch you soon enough.¡±

    The crane only stared with its proud, untouchable eyes.

    Soon, soft footsteps approached. Beaming, Wenbo turned around. Her brother arrived in black training garments, his hair braided neatly down his back. He held out a large flask, which slushed with liquid.

    ¡°Did you remember to drink, Ah-Bo?¡±

    She took the flask and downed the water. Together, they stretched and warmed-up. This was the part that Wenbo grimaced over, impatient as she was to get started. But Anjie insisted on the little things and took his time enjoying the slow pace. In the background, the courtyard birds chirped and the stir of morning training thrummed. By the time they finally took the wooden swords off the racks, Wenbo was jittery with excitement.

    ¡®Cranes¡¯ was not so much a game as it was hard sparring. Anjie went easy on her, of course¡ªWenbo would not be learning much otherwise. Still, she was thrilled at every tiny success, every hard clack of wood. These days, Anjie rarely sparred seriously with anyone other than his righthand Ziyuan. In fact, he rarely sparred at all with anyone aside from Ziyuan, Jinyue, and Wenbo. He seemed happy to oblige requests, but the requests were few. Several months ago, a young crane had wistfully mentioned how he would love to try his skills against the First Lord. When Wenbo, eavesdropping, chirped why not ask?, the man had broken into a laugh.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Sorry, milady, but I¡¯m not his sister, he said. He doesn¡¯t have the time to baby me.

    It appeared to Wenbo that the general consensus was that her brother would be ¡®babying¡¯ anyone who challenged him. How foolish. After all, she thought, if they didn¡¯t grow out of being babies, with or without her brother¡¯s help, then was Anjie supposed to be the only adult in the house?

    At least there was Ziyuan. And Jinyue. Wenzhan, on the other hand¡­ Her third brother preferred stabbing trees in the valley forest to proper exercises in the estate. The last time she saw Wenzhan spar was about a year ago, against Jinyue. Totally wild and formless. Wenzhan had lost, but he broke Jinyue¡¯s sword and the nearby weapons rack in the process.

    In the end, Wenbo was not able to land a single blow on Anjie. Collapsing onto the floor, she said, ¡°One day, I¡¯ll win.¡±

    Anjie stared at her as if surprised. After a moment, he broke into a happy laugh.

    ¡°Of course you will. You¡¯re the fiercest little lady I know.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± said Wenbo, pushing upright, ¡°you don¡¯t actually know too many fierce little ladies, do you? I think it¡¯s just me and Ruo-Jie. And Lulu, but she¡¯s not little at all.¡±

    Anjie smiled and knelt, fixing her mussed hair. ¡°You¡¯re right. The fiercest person, then.¡±

    Wenbo beamed, a satisfied warmth filling her chest. Anjie placed a hand on her cheek, speaking softly.

    ¡°Keep that ferocity, little crane. I¡¯ll be waiting for the day.¡±

    They tidied and had breakfast in the private tea room afterward. Dinner was a family affair, and lunch was taken at everyone¡¯s own convenience. Breakfast met somewhere in the middle, usually attended together by Anjie, Ziyuan, Jinyue, and Wenbo. Aunt Baisun slept in too late to join, and Wenzhan came or didn¡¯t at his own whim. Today was a no for Wenbo¡¯s third brother. Jinyue arrived later than usual, catching the tail end of Anjie and Wenbo¡¯s dining. Her two brothers talked briefly about affairs to be taken care of during the day, and then Anjie sent her to change into her school clothes.

    In the Guan household, there were four children of primary school age, Wenbo included. Two had already gone ahead, but Ruotian, Sanhai¡¯s niece and Wenbo¡¯s far removed cousin, lingered behind to wait for Wenbo. Wenbo found the older girl sitting in the main courtyard, a book opened in her right hand, her back straight and her hair braided in elegant plaits. As Ruotian sighted Wenbo, her left eyebrow arched smoothly and her mouth opened to comment. Before the words left her lips, her eyes darted past Wenbo.

    Ruotian stood up quickly. ¡°An-Gege.¡±

    ¡°Ah-Tian. Are you ready to go?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re coming with us today, An-Gege?¡±

    ¡°I have some business in town, so I¡¯ll walk you.¡±

    Ruotian¡¯s lips pulled into a smile. Wenbo could see the corners pursing, trying to stay prim and ladylike. But the older girl¡¯s eyes brightened and flickered to Wenbo, clearly delighted to have her brother¡¯s company.

    It was a half-hour walk from the Guan estate from Guilinhe village to the primary school in the Rizhai town. On the way, the Guilinhe villagers smiled and waved at the trio. One man working the morning fields hurried over to press a bundle of fresh vegetables into Anjie¡¯s hands, his tanned skin already sweat-sheened and his nails stained with dirt. In the market area of the Rizhai town, an old woman waved down the two girls and gave them each a large, hot doughnut. Wenbo wolfed hers down while Ruotian, a few minutes later, passed her doughnut to a small townboy.

    When they arrived at the school, the children crowded the windows and doors to see the First Lord Guan. After Anjie left and Ruotian joined her own class, Wenbo¡¯s classmates surrounded her in a flurry, asking after her absence yesterday. She happily basked in the attention, spinning a wild exaggeration of her morning illness the day before.

    Later in the day, the teacher announced that they were beginning an autumn project on family. He handed out their notebooks and then instructed the students to write a paragraph on their concept of family. His instructions hung with an ambiguous silence afterward, his fan folding behind his straight back and his eyes sweeping the room with a quiet expectation.

    Wenbo pressed the end of her pen to her lip, thinking. After a moment, she smiled and dipped the tip into the soft parchment.

    Family, she wrote, is the people you share your food with.

    <hr>

    ¡°Wenzhan. Zhanzhan. Hey, Wen-Gege.¡±

    Wenzhan winced, slowly feeling the ache of his neck, the throb behind his eyes. Soft fingers touched his exposed forearm, and a familiar breath ghosted his ears with the scent of peonies. ¡°Wen-Gege, if you don¡¯t wake up, I¡¯m going to take your belt.¡±

    He swat his arm at the voice. The warmth at his side peddled back. With a grunt, he lifted his head where it rested on his arm, and his arm prickled with the numbness of being pressed to the desk. Leaning back in his chair, he blinked to an empty lecture room and the afternoon light burning the edge of a metallic table.

    Sighing, he rubbed his face.

    ¡°Shame. I did kind of want your belt.¡±

    The woman next to him pulled over a chair and sank into it, facing him. Wenzhan gave her a sideway glance, irritated at her all-too-pleasant voice.

    Lin Suzha. A year under him, a transfer to the Guilin provincial college since last winter. The only person at the college with the nerve to rouse him from his napping. It was not a justified nerve in the moment, when Wenzhan was still off-kilter from the morning hangover and a half-nudge from snapping at any company. He didn¡¯t remember all of last night. Just the part where he hit Anjie. Just the part where he sobbed over Jinyue¡¯s nice white robes and more or less admitted to his second brother¡¯s suspicions.

    Wenzhan really did not want to speak with anyone for the next month.

    ¡°You got water?¡± he said.

    ¡°Sure,¡± said Suzha. She tugged over a decorated bag on the desk and fished out a flask, which she tossed to Wenzhan. He downed all of the water, which was not enough to clean his mood. Suzha said, ¡°Something happened this morning?¡±

    He stood, swinging his bag over his shoulder. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Yesterday, then.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    Suzha followed him out of the lecture room. The college was winding down at the late afternoon hour, the corridors sparse. Even so, the few that glimpsed him averted their gaze. Once, they did that out of respect for his status as a lordling of House Guan. These days, it was just nervous distaste.

    ¡°It matters to me,¡± said Suzha. ¡°Hey, Wenzhan. Wenzhan!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going home.¡±

    Her hand wrapped around his wrist. He didn¡¯t resist as she maneuvered him against the wall. As she was about to speak, a student drifted past them. She seemed to think better of making a visible scene and soon pulled him into the adjacent empty classroom. The door shut with a heavy draft.

    Wenzhan slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. Suzha watched him for a hanging moment, her earlier humor and ease gone. Perhaps it was the eastside dim of the classroom. Or perhaps it was because they hadn¡¯t talked properly in days.

    ¡°I heard from Luxian,¡± she said eventually. ¡°Well, ¡®heard¡¯ is putting it lightly.¡±

    Wenzhan cocked an eyebrow. ¡°What, you don¡¯t like it?¡±

    Suzha scoffed and shook her head at him. They glared at each other.

    Then she closed the distance in two strides. Her fingers wrapped around the fabric of his broad shoulders, and her mouth covered his. She tasted like summer plums. Instinctively, Wenzhan shut his eyes and kissed back.

    A moment later, Suzha pulled away. She hissed over his lips.

    ¡°Stupid boy. I don¡¯t care who you fuck. But she has a boyfriend. What the hell were you thinking?¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t thinking? You fucked someone¡¯s girlfriend without thinking?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    Suzha groaned in exasperation, stepping backward and pressing a hand to her forehead. Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, ¡°Luxian¡¯s been waiting for you outside. What are you going to do?¡±

    Wenzhan shrugged. ¡°Talk. Fight. Whatever he wants.¡±

    ¡°I think you know what he wants.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t keep him waiting, then.¡±

    Suzha grabbed Wenzhan¡¯s arm as he made to leave.

    ¡°Wenzhan. Don¡¯t do anything stupid. You know you¡¯re the one in the wrong here.¡±

    He had nothing to say to that. Suzha was right, and for all his crass behavior, Wenzhan had been raised well to know right from wrong, wise from stupid. But some things he could not control, some wrongs he could not escape, and he had decided years ago that if it was going to be this way, he¡¯d let it be this way. Right? Wise? Fucking someone¡¯s girlfriend, fighting someone¡¯s boyfriend? What were those small transgressions anyway, but an outlet for the steam of a much greater one?

    He pulled his arm from Suzha¡¯s grip. She had no place to chastise him.

    Without another word, he left the room. Suzha sighed and followed.

    As she had warned, Luxian was waiting in the empty open corridor beyond the building exit. He was alone, a brawny man matching Wenzhan in size. When Wenzhan appeared, Luxian pushed off the pillar he leaned against and leveled a cold, hard look. They stood opposite each other for a silent moment.

    ¡°You wanted to talk?¡± said Wenzhan.

    A pulse rippled through Luxian¡¯s jaws. ¡°Talk?¡±

    ¡°Better for you,¡± said Wenzhan.

    ¡°Better for me?¡± A humorless chuckle shook Luxian¡¯s form. ¡°You think that you can take whatever you want, say whatever you want, fuck whoever you want because you¡¯re a Guan?¡±

    ¡°I fuck whoever wants me to fuck them.¡±

    ¡°Guan Wenzhan!¡±

    ¡°Luxian, is it?¡±

    The man snarled. Took three wide strides forward, a fist curling. The hit landed empty, and with a grunt, Luxian went stumbling back from a languid kick.

    ¡°You sure you want to fight?¡±

    Suzha touched Wenzhan¡¯s shoulder. Frantically, ¡°Wenzhan¡ª¡±

    Luxian roared. Wenzhan shoved Suzha out of the way. For all his skill and trained build, Luxian was but a stick of wood compared to the modified warriors of House Guan. Wenzhan may not have endured the traditional final procedure¡ªand never would, now that Anjie was First Lord¡ªbut he had been recrafted in other ways since birth. He retaliated the assault in reserved motions, knocking the other man carefully back and withholding his strength for a short time.

    Then Luxian said, ¡°Guan? The Guardian House? Don¡¯t fuck with me, Wenzhan. You¡¯re a shame to that name.¡±

    A blow landed on Wenzhan¡¯s cheek. He stumbled back, spitting blood onto the ground. After a stunned moment, he felt a laugh crawl up his throat.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. Guan? Yeah. Don¡¯t fuck with me. I never wanted to be one.¡±

    Luxian threw a fierce kick. With ease, Wenzhan grabbed his leg and sent him toppling back. The man sprawled on the ground with a grunt. Suzha hurried to Luxian¡¯s side and knelt.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re only going to hurt yourself.¡±

    Wenzhan was turning to leave. In his peripheral, Luxian spat at Suzha¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t they call him the First Guardian?¡±

    Wenzhan froze.

    ¡°Some damn guardian he is, letting his own brother piss all over the place. Can¡¯t even take care of his family¡ª¡±

    Bone cracked along Wenzhan¡¯s heel. Blood splattered. Luxian rolled back with an ugly cry.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. You dare. Talk about him.¡±

    Clutching his mouth, red trickling down his jaw, his fingers, Luxian pushed upright. ¡°Don¡¯t I? Didn¡¯t he raise you? He¡¯s the reason you turned out like this, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Wenzhan, Wenzhan, don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    He knew it was goading, intentional, maybe even deliberately planned. And yet, he could not help the way those words bled into his arteries, swallowed up his head. Seeing red, Wenzhan lunged forward. He did not hold back anymore.

    Fighting, he didn¡¯t have the graceful, avian mastery of his brothers¡ªonce, yes, but he had long since grinded the style out of his bones. Anything to set himself apart, anything to dilute his Guan blood. His hair, his clothes, his harder body, his rougher martial work. Anything to be just a little less the brother of Guan Anjie.

    Yes, his brother was the reason he turned out like this. But how dare the words come from the mouth of a stranger, a man who seemed to know nothing about the First Lord of Guan and the First Guardian of Guilin, who had the audacity to forget¡ªor to be ignorant of¡ªall that his brother had done for this place.

    He¡¯s the reason I turned out like this?

    ¡°Witless dog, he¡¯s the reason you¡¯re alive!¡±

    Luxian screamed. Filled with an untamed fury, Wenzhan beat the man wet and raw.

    It was only when Suzha covered the man¡¯s body with her own, in tears, that Wenzhan finally came to his senses. His throat dried at the blood, the shivering form on the ground. He stepped back. A small ring of horrified spectators retreated with him, as if afraid they would be next. Head drumming a thunder, he staggered out of the college grounds.

    ¡°What did I do?¡± he whispered down the dirt path. ¡°What did I do?¡±

 Part I: The House of Guardians | 3

    The image of Guilin blood plastered itself to the back of Wenzhan¡¯s eyelids. Viscous crimson spit pools, veined swollen eye. Violet and blue beneath cheek and jaw, a wrist bent to savage distortion. Fingers shivering over fragile ribs. Luxian had baited it, gotten it, and like a fisherman who would boil the wrecking shark, he would no doubt reap the rewards of his suffering.

    The diverging paths out of Guilinhe village tempted Wenzhan in desperate whispers. But he could not face his brothers knowing that he had run, that he had left them to shoulder the consequences. So he forced himself back to the Guan estate. Arriving, he shut himself away in his room through the remainder of the afternoon, into the hours of the evening. He ignored the invitation to dinner. He ignored the pelting late summer rain, splattering in from his opened windows, scattering his college parchment. Along the wall, two intricately knotted birds fluttered where they hung. Anjie had made those with him when he was just a child.

    Anjie. What would Anjie have to say on the matter of him beating an innocent man? No¡ªhis words had been anything but innocent, but they were words, harmless¡ªcutting, boiling¡ªwords, only words. Anjie could not possibly remain as gentle-handed and soft-voiced as he had been through all of Wenzhan¡¯s past behavior. Even if he wanted to, House Guan had always held duty before family.

    A foreboding cold sank through his skull. Wenzhan closed his eyes.

    Not yet. He wouldn¡¯t think about it yet. When it happened, he¡¯d take it. He would bear the punishment without excuses, without complaints, whether it was a shaming, a hand¡ªhell, an exile. But for now, while he still had these moments, he simply stared at the fluttering birds. Blank-slated his mind and traced the knotted lines of their wings, the stray yarn that a younger Wenzhan¡¯s clumsy fingers had mussed.

    An hour after dusk, the knocking tapped at his door.

    ¡°Master Guan. Lord Guan requests your presence in the ceremonial hall.¡±

    Wenzhan blinked, feeling dizzy. Wordless, he stood and opened the door. The young attendant kneeling outside bowed her head. Wenzhan passed her and went to the central hall.

    He smelled the blood and pungent medical oils before he had walked through the entrance. In the southern center of the room sat Luxian, bandaged and grotesquely battered. He was not alone, for he was so beaten that the trip to the estate would have been impossible to make without aid. His drawn-faced father, his sobbing mother, and a pale young woman who could be his sister were all in attendance. Conversely, the Guan showing was merely Anjie, his righthand Ziyuan, and Jinyue. The others, Wenbo included, were starkly absent.

    At least his little sister would be spared his shame.

    The eyes that trailed his entrance were cold, righteous, violent, and pained. Only Anjie, sitting in his usual place before the calligraphy script, did not look at him. The deliberate ignorance wrung his heart.

    Silent, Wenzhan approached his place between the western pillars, meaning to sit beside Jinyue. He was not particularly surprised when the motion was interrupted.

    ¡°Wenzhan.¡±

    At his eldest brother¡¯s call, he took three steps toward center and knelt facing the northern wall. He lowered his head.

    ¡°The Song family comes bearing their grievances against you. Is it true that you beat young master Song this afternoon, at the college?¡±

    Wenzhan swallowed. ¡°It is.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Wenzhan, turn around. Look at him.¡±

    Like his bones could splinter from the pressure, Wenzhan did this. Luxian glared at him with one hazed, reddened eye, the other half of his face disfigured. His left arm was bound, broken. His chest was wrapped with a compression for his ribs. Crutches laid by his legs. Displayed fresh from the crime, Luxian would have had to endure numbing pain to come to the estate tonight. But of course he would¡ªLuxian had taken the beating for exactly this.

    Seeing Wenzhan, that one reddened eye flickered with seething, ugly vindication.

    Anjie said, ¡°Is it true that you caused each of those injuries?¡±

    Staring at Luxian, Wenzhan said, ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    This question was softer than the rest. Wenzhan slowly turned back to face his brother. He stared at the floor in silence for a long while. ¡°I was angry,¡± he whispered.

    Silence.

    Behind him, the mother sobbed quietly.

    Wenzhan thought his knuckles would grind into the wood of the floor for how long he knelt there, waiting for judgment. At last, Anjie moved in his peripheral. He looked up.

    Beneath the calligraphy, his eldest brother rose. His slender fingers reached for his sword. He removed it from his heavy holster belt, and then he set it on the ground.

    ¡°House Guan is sworn to protect the people of Guilin,¡± said Anjie calmly. ¡°If we fail to do so, then we can only give the people justice.¡±

    Breaths released behind Wenzhan. A louder sob, relieved.

    Anjie curled his fingers around the thick wrap of his belt, removing it. They did not own whips in the Guan household. Here, this kind of slow, humiliating corporal punishment was never entertained¡ªat worst, as for the rapist Chang Dazhe, it was a quick and clean cut. But even as the horror and shame crawled beneath his skin, Wenzhan understood. If he was to remain a member of the Guardian House, he could not afford to lose a hand, not after what had happened ten years ago. And yet, justice for what had been done to Luxian warranted nothing lighter than deep, lasting pain.

    The Lord Guan folded the belt in his hands, a decorated and tough leather. In his peripheral, Jinyue tensed. Wenzhan curled his fists against the wood and leaned forward, resigning himself.

    ¡°It appears from these injuries that my brother did not withhold his strength. Is it true, Wenzhan?¡±

    Wenzhan forced his body still against the threatening shiver. His voice came out a whisper. ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°Then neither will we. Will ten lashes suffice?¡±

    Ten lashes at the hand of Guan Anjie, if truly without reservation, would easily cut to the bone. Wenzhan had the constitution to recover from it, but it would be brutal. As brutal as the damage to Luxian, if not more so. But if Luxian¡¯s afternoon insults did not indicate his ignorance of the First Lord¡¯s strength, the Song family¡¯s silence showed it now.

    The father bowed his head. ¡°That should be¡­¡±

    The mother interrupted him. ¡°My lord,¡± she began, pulling back her tears with a hoarse voice, ¡°please pardon us, but I might have lost my son today. His arm is broken. His ribs are broken. His face is broken! And for what? The doctor would not let him leave the sickbed, but he insisted¡­ He said he could not live if he did not have justice. Please, my lord, if you truly have the people in your heart¡ªyou must know that ten lashes from a belt cannot possibly be justice.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°How many do you suggest?¡± said the Lord Guan.

    The mother inhaled. ¡°Fifty,¡± she said. ¡°At least fifty.¡±

    In his peripheral, Jinyue stood up. ¡°That will kill him. Brother, you can¡¯t.¡±

    Anjie did not reply immediately. But when he did, it was as if he hadn¡¯t heard Jinyue speak.

    ¡°Then it will be fifty.¡±

    Wenzhan shut his eyes. A strange sound drifted from Jinyue.

    ¡°Let it not be said that House Guan exempts any abuses,¡± said Anjie. Then with the weight of those metallic eyes upon the bow of Wenzhan¡¯s head: ¡°And let it not be forgotten that our strength is granted only to protect.¡±

    That soft reprimand lashed Wenzhan harder than any weapon could. Breathing through the cold thunder in his head, he waited to be called forward.

    ¡°Ziyuan.¡±

    Wenzhan looked up. Confused, because his brother passed the belt to his righthand. Because fifty from Ziyuan would be lighter? Because Anjie couldn¡¯t bear to beat his own brother? But even as he prayed that it was one of the two, he watched his brother remove his white outer robes. And in his thin black undershirt, pulling his hair over his shoulder, Anjie knelt.

    ¡°No. No, no¡ª¡±

    Jinyue grabbed him. Ziyuan lifted the belt. Wenzhan screamed. The first blow landed with a shrill, resounding snap. Ziyuan hesitated, a stripped expression as those copper eyes lingered on Anjie¡¯s hidden back.

    ¡°My lord, no, please, this isn¡¯t what we...¡±

    Ziyuan lifted the belt again. The Songs fell into a shocked silence.

    Nobody listened to Wenzhan, not when he yelled, not when he sobbed. But eventually, as Anjie lowered his head, his hair falling to hide his face, as the belt sprayed harsh splatters of blood across Ziyuan¡¯s cold cheek, Jinyue¡¯s grip on Wenzhan slackened. Wenzhan didn¡¯t move. He couldn¡¯t anymore. He understood. For the greatest transgression a man of House Guan could commit, fifty lashes were too lenient. They were never meant to be his punishment.

    This was.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, voiceless through the tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. I will never do it again. Please forgive me. Please, no more...¡±Stolen story; please report.

    When the lashes finally ended, Ziyuan dropped the belt like it burned their hand. Torn from the beating, it hit the floor with a heavy, wet thud. Anjie slowly pressed a hand to his stomach, silent.

    ¡°Jinyue,¡± said Ziyuan, toneless, ¡°will you please escort our visitors to the gate.¡±

    Shaking, Jinyue stood. Once he had gone with the Song family, Ziyuan collected Anjie¡¯s sword, draped Anjie¡¯s discarded outer robes over his body, and gently lifted their lord upright. As they left the hall, Wenzhan stared at his brother¡¯s back. Red soaked through the crane white fabric.

    Alone, Wenzhan curled in on himself. Trembling, he gasped against the floor, his tears streaking the wood. It was a long time before he realized he wasn¡¯t crying alone anymore.

    Little footsteps. Wenzhan looked up.

    Wenbo stood by the bloody belt, her eyes red and her nose running. Her voice came in hiccups, stuttering and uncontrolled. She stared at Wenzhan, a look in her eyes as raw as his heart.

    ¡°I hate you,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    She picked up the damaged belt and ran away.

    Some time after, a soft hand covered his shoulder. ¡°Fifty would have killed you,¡± said Jinyue, later, as if that somehow lightened what they had just seen. But Wenzhan felt like execution would have been a kinder mercy.

    <hr>

    ¡°And here I thought the two of you had grown out of beating each other up,¡± said Sanhai, patting the medical oils into Anjie¡¯s raw back. The lightness of her tone betrayed no concern, but then again, Sanhai had not so much as trembled when the Yulai army killed her husband and her son. She could not be bothered to rile over even the First Lord¡¯s self-inflicted injuries.

    Ziyuan sighed, leaning against the ward wall. ¡°You¡¯re villainizing me again, Doctor. He was the one who beat me up back then. And he was the one who made me do it today.¡±

    Sitting on the bed, Anjie glanced sideways. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    His voice was still fainter than usual, but at least it was a voice. An hour ago, Ziyuan would have claimed magic if Anjie had spoken a word. Mercy to the boys¡ªto the Songs too¡ªthat Anjie¡¯s back had been facing Ziyuan alone. Fifty lashes, no bars held? It was impossible. For all the biological advancements of House Guan, even their old cranes were human on the surface. His shirt and skin had torn after one lash. The belt would have snapped after twenty. But even dealing the rest at half-strength, faint hints of Anjie¡¯s silver bones had been visible by the end.

    Blessings to the House for the endurance of the cranes. Ziyuan would not have known what to do if Anjie had collapsed before the end of the punishment.

    Blessings for their expedited healing too. Now Anjie could be coherent while Ziyuan snarked at him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re too soft on or too cruel to your brother,¡± said Ziyuan. ¡°That boy¡¯s going to let anyone in Guilin pommel him into the ground now.¡±

    Anjie made an irritated noise. Sounded like a growl. Uncharacteristic¡ªprobably the pain and the oils.

    ¡°What else was I supposed to do? The mother was right. Her son could have died.¡±

    ¡°If you wanted to be fair,¡± said Sanhai, ¡°you should have beat the boy. If you wanted to teach him a lesson, you should have beat the boy.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve done both just¡ªah¡ª¡±

    Sanhai had pressed a hot cell stimulant to his back, stamping it across the openings. Moments later, she pulled the bloodied device away and replaced it with a soft, medicated cloth.

    ¡°Anjie. You don¡¯t get to hold their hands forever.¡± She cleaned his back gently now. ¡°Your brothers and your sister will outlive you by a near century. What will they do in those hundred years if they¡¯re still relying on you to protect them?¡± She paused, removing the cloth to stare at his back. Ziyuan glimpsed the peripheral span. The magnificent crane upon it was shredded by old scars and fresh, drying wounds. ¡°Guilin as well,¡± said Sanhai, touching a white rift where there should be black ink. ¡°I respect the decisions you¡¯ve made, but you need to consider the future that comes after you. After us.¡±

    ¡°I have,¡± he said simply.

    Sanhai sighed. ¡°Pass me the bandages, Ziyuan.¡±

    Ziyuan did this, then stayed to help Sanhai with the wrapping. Anjie¡¯s skin was fevered to the touch, the result of overactive regeneration. This close, Ziyuan noted the details of the lashing. The House crane, with her beautiful body spread so proudly, now wore deep slashes across her throat. Blood still leaked from the cuts. Ziyuan repressed a shiver.

    The wounds covered, Anjie pushed off the bed and pulled a set of fresh garments over his shoulders. He was tying the sash, straight-backed as ever, when a rapping came on the ward doors.

    ¡°Come in,¡± said Sanhai.

    The door slid open. Ziyuan¡¯s messenger boy glanced quickly at the trio, and then approached Ziyuan, offering a folded parchment. ¡°News, Guardian.¡±

    Ziyuan took the parchment. The boy bowed and left. The paper was light in Ziyuan¡¯s hand, sleeker and paler than the traditional parchment of Guilin. Inside were uniform, machine-printed characters. A delivery from the outside world.

    The ward was silent while Ziyuan scanned the message. Several bullets were less than relevant. A single point, flagged at the top, drew Ziyuan¡¯s eyes for a linger. Afterward, Ziyuan folded the paper and slipped it in their pocket.

    ¡°Anzhou took Mosanguo last night. Xijia surrendered.¡±

    Sanhai grunted. ¡°That¡¯ll do it. Quan Caihe might have her continental dynasty yet.¡±

    Ziyuan looked at Anjie. After a moment, the First Lord said, ¡°It is likely.¡±

    Sanhai sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s hope she¡¯s wiser than her predecessors.¡±

    The corner of Anjie¡¯s lips curved. ¡°She is certainly smarter.¡±

    ¡°Why are you smiling about that? It¡¯s not good news for us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± said Anjie, arching an eyebrow at the doctor. ¡°She overthrew the sitting regent of Anzhou, re-established the Quan dynasty, and will probably unify the continent all within the span of two decades. I dare say she might rival the Tianxin Emperor in the histories.¡±

    ¡°He called it,¡± mused Ziyuan, unthinking.

    Anjie fell silent. Ziyuan froze.

    ¡°Who?¡± said Sanhai, oblivious.

    Ziyuan scratched the back of their ear. ¡°Jun Musheng. Said Quan Caihe would have the continent within the second decade of the century.¡±

    Sanhai laughed, a singular bark.

    ¡°Damn bastard. Wasn¡¯t he clever. Shame he didn¡¯t have a heart to go with that head.¡±

    Anjie picked up his sword from the bedside and left the room.

    Ziyuan frowned at Sanhai afterward. ¡°That was cold, Doctor.¡±

    ¡°What? It¡¯s true.¡±

    Ziyuan shook their head and took their leave. Outside, Ziyuan caught up to Anjie in the corridor. He wasn¡¯t walking toward his chambers.

    ¡°Where are you going? You need rest.¡±

    ¡°To see Ah-Zhan.¡±

    Of course. The boy was a certain wreck right now.

    ¡°Go get some rest,¡± said Anjie. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡±

    Ziyuan caught Anjie¡¯s wrist. Anjie turned.

    In the dim corridor, every imperceptible tell of the First Lord¡¯s expression was laid bare to Ziyuan¡¯s trained eyes. No truth ever escaped them. If Anjie said right now that he was as unbothered as he sounded, it would be a lie.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ziyuan said after a moment.

    ¡°For what?¡± said Anjie.

    Ziyuan hesitated. That apology was weighted, weighted with curses and blood, with desperate pleas and helpless tears, with damning accusations beneath the old and unburnt lake trees, with a decade and a half of time. After thinking, Ziyuan could only reply, ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t apologize,¡± said Anjie. He slid his arm free from Ziyuan¡¯s grasp. The corner of his lips lifted, and yet the softness he intended for Ziyuan did not reach his eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t have anything to be sorry for, Ziyuan. You were right, were you not?¡±

    Anjie turned around, adjusting the loose weight of his garment.

    ¡°In any case, it hardly matters anymore.¡±

    Ziyuan looked at the ground, silent.

    Lie.

    <hr>

    When the wood rapped, Wenzhan was a half-dressed mess sprawled across the bed. Only when he recognized Anjie¡¯s voice did he scramble to adjust his shirt and rub the wetness from his face. Heart pounding, he stumbled to the door and shoved it open.

    Anjie stood in clean robes, as if untouched. Seeing him straight-backed and calm, Wenzhan fell to his knees. He wanted to clutch the soft fabric in front of him, but he dared not touch his brother. Curling near the ground, he said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, An-Ge. I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m so sorry¡­¡±

    A sigh.

    ¡°Will you let me inside first, Ah-Zhan?¡±

    Clenching his jaw, Wenzhan shifted back from the frame. Anjie shut the door gently. His brother moved away momentarily to light the nightstand candles, and then returned to the door. Perhaps seeing that Wenzhan was not going to move far from the frame, Anjie sat kneeling across from him. His soft fingers brushed Wenzhan¡¯s chin and lifted his face upward. Wenzhan shut his eyes at the touch, his skin horribly electric.

    ¡°Look at me, Ah-Zhan.¡±

    A cold washed down his bones. Wenzhan opened his eyes, willing the lump in his throat to dissipate on its own. No chance, not when he saw that painfully beautiful face caressed by the firelight.

    Anjie folded his hands back in his lap. With a faint frown, he said, ¡°You didn¡¯t answer me properly in the hall. Why did you hurt that boy, Ah-Zhan?¡±

    Wenzhan swallowed. At the first chance he got, his eyes flickered downward again.

    ¡°I was angry,¡± he said, because it was the first thing that came to his unsteady mind.

    ¡°You would not hurt someone merely because you are angry.¡±

    ¡°Does it matter? I beat him. He was vulnerable. Does it matter why?¡±

    Anjie paused.

    ¡°It does not matter by the oaths of our house,¡± he said after a while. ¡°But it matters to me.¡±

    Wenzhan¡¯s fingers dug into his legs.

    ¡°He said you were the reason I turned out like this,¡± whispered Wenzhan. When he heard his own words, he shook his head fiercely, looking at Anjie. ¡°It isn¡¯t true. It isn¡¯t your fault. I¡¯m just¡ªI¡¯m just fucked up. I shouldn¡¯t be here, I shouldn¡¯t be in this house...with you, I...¡±

    Love you.

    ¡°Oh, Ah-Zhan.¡±

    Anjie stood. Took two steps forward. Wenzhan looked up.

    Before he could blink in the shadow, his brother had knelt again. Arms encircled his back, pulling him into a warm embrace. Wenzhan could feel the fevered heat of his brother¡¯s skin, the hard rhythm of his tried and tired pulse. He could smell the blood and the oils, the faint undertone of lily ginger. Taste the gentle brush of those lips in his hair.

    But his delusional want was staggered by a quiet whisper.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, little brother.¡±

    ¡°Why are you apologizing?¡± He paused. ¡°Why...why are you crying?¡±

    Anjie did not respond immediately. At last he said, ¡°Because my family was made to protect Guilin, and yet I don¡¯t know how to protect my family from this place.¡±

    The zither beneath young Jinyue¡¯s fingertips, trembling that moonless night.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    The embrace tightened. Wenzhan slipped his hand within the soft folds of Anjie¡¯s robes, drinking in the vulnerable warmth. He rested his head against Anjie¡¯s shoulder, breathing the gentle scent of his pulse.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. You don¡¯t have to understand it.¡±

    ¡°An-Ge?¡±

    Anjie pulled away. In the candlelight, the remnant tears that glistened along his cheek struck Wenzhan breathless. Pain swallowed his chest, and shame, his gut.

    Please, Heavens, spare me this.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to fight anyone for me,¡± said Anjie softly. ¡°If you fight, it must be to protect. Do you understand?¡±

    Wenzhan nodded numbly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to say those words. That you are fucked up. That you don¡¯t belong here.¡± Anjie shook his head, his eyes not leaving. ¡°There is nothing wrong with you, Ah-Zhan. And none of us belong here. We were simply born here.¡±

    ¡°How do you know there¡¯s nothing wrong with me?¡±

    How did he know, if he didn¡¯t know that his voice broke softly in the most vivid of his brother¡¯s dreams? If he didn¡¯t know that his lips were feather-soft and spring mint in those same dreams? If he could not even see that in this very moment, Wenzhan would give a decade of his life to lean forward and kiss him, hold him, have him?

    Anjie gripped his shoulders. His copper eyes burned.

    ¡°Because you are good. And in this world, that is all that matters.¡±

    Wenzhan blinked.

    Anjie withdrew and rose. A slow motion, perhaps tinged with the ache of his wounds. But he spoke gently anyway. ¡°Tomorrow, will you come have breakfast with us?¡±

    Wordless, Wenzhan nodded.

 Part I: The House of Guardians | 4

    September came, and the days breezed slowly by.

    On the twelfth, which was a special day, Jinyue found himself running through the Rizhai outskirts at dawn. The streets were muddy from a shower the night before, and he did not have time to navigate puddles. Thick brown stained the lower quarter of his white robes, splattering the rooftop shingles when he hopped on for the elevation. Down below, his target sprinted in wild lunges and intoxicated gasps.

    The man had been charged with assault and destruction of property. This was not why Jinyue had spent the early hours of morning hunting him down, however. More concerning than the man¡¯s disturbed trashing of the shopkeeper¡¯s wares and customers was the substance he had been accused of consuming¡ªand selling.

    Jinyue saw it clearly when he jumped off the rooftop, cornering the man in a dead end alley. The man flailed backward, gasping like a pained wildhog, his veined eyes dilated to black.

    ¡°No!¡± he screamed, voice hoarse. ¡°I didn¡¯t piss in it! I didn¡¯t piss!¡±

    Jinyue frowned. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The soup is yellow! The soup is sour and yellow!¡±

    The man was delusional. Sighing, Jinyue unhinged the leather handcuffs on his belt. As he stepped forward, the man yelped and fell to the wet ground, curling with his hands over his head. His shouts became incoherent mutters, a string of words about food and urine, and even more incomprehensibly, blue moss.

    ¡°It¡¯s not moss, is it? What do they call it? Heavensbane?¡± Jinyue knelt by the man. The man scampered away, but the wall was close behind him. Jinyue said, as kindly as he could manage, ¡°The soup is sour and yellow. You will hurt yourself if you keep running. Give me your hands and let me help you.¡±

    The man whimpered. His eyes narrowed at Jinyue, tremors twitching the lids. Those swollen pupils scanned Jinyue¡¯s clothes.

    ¡°Crane,¡± said the man at last. ¡°Crane. Crane.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Jinyue.

    Slowly, the man held his hands forward. Jinyue smiled so as to not alarm him, and then cuffed his wrists. Only after the cuffs had locked did the man seem to realize what had happened. He stared at his bound hands, and then screamed again.

    ¡°Up you come,¡± said Jinyue. ¡°We¡¯ll have our doctor take a look at you.¡±

    ¡°No! No! I didn¡¯t piss!¡±

    Jinyue held the man by his shoulder and his cuffs. All his intoxicated struggling did nothing against Jinyue, who moved him forward through the town. A pair of women walking down the streets with wheelbarrows of market produce slowed to stare. Jinyue nodded at their alarmed expressions while his captive continued to scream nonsense. One of the women lifted her sleeve over her mouth and giggled, though there was little amusing to Jinyue about the state of the poor fellow.

    He intended to walk the man back to the estate, since Jinyue had come to Rizhai by foot this morning. But passing through the town center, he was stopped by a small hoard of footsteps.

    Three men and a woman intercepted his path, each wearing the blue uniform of the Provincial Council¡¯s enforcers. The woman, who appeared to be heading the group, clasped her hands and bowed in front of Jinyue.

    ¡°Master Guan. Thank you for your trouble. We¡¯ll take the criminal off your hands now.¡±

    The ¡®criminal¡¯ shrieked even louder. ¡°I didn¡¯t want the moss! They put it in my food!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s coming back to the Guan estate with me,¡± said Jinyue.

    ¡°I must insist,¡± said the enforcer. ¡°That man has been charged with the possession and distribution of an outside poison.¡±

    Heavensbane, this so-called blue moss¡ªthe drug intoxicating him to madness right now. It had appeared in Guilin once before, and under the examination of their shamans, it was confirmed to be a chemical substance produced under the advanced engineering of the states beyond Guilin. For all the temporary ecstasy the drug allowed, their people didn¡¯t have the constitution to endure its dangerous side-effects. To sell it within Guilin was a crime indeed.

    Still, Jinyue pursed his lips. ¡°I will bring him back to the estate for treatment.¡±

    ¡°Our doctors are sufficient for that, Master Guan. We will take care of him.¡±

    Jinyue narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°Quite responsible today, aren¡¯t you? I did not see the Council interfering when one of our women was raped last month.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of no such thing.¡±

    ¡°No, you wouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    Such was the self-important nature of the Council¡¯s enforcers. They managed the people of Guilin and little else. Like any political entity, the Provincial Council that governed Guilin could not exist without an executive arm. House Guan was not their lapdog, and so the Council had created their own band of quasi-police to enforce their laws. It was a coexistence delineated by unspoken agreements: the Council and their enforcers, respecting the strength and guardianship of House Guan, would not retrospectively challenge any dealings of House Guan; and House Guan, sworn to protect Guilin¡ªincluding the integrity of its governance¡ªwould not interfere with legal matters already claimed by the Council.

    Jinyue wished he could pretend he didn¡¯t know where this particular matter fell. The matter of substance abuse was carefully written into the Council code. And since House Guan hadn¡¯t already executed the man¡ªnot that they would have¡ªhe fell under Council jurisdiction.

    Reluctantly, Jinyue released the man. The man scrambled to run. He was caught by two enforcers.

    ¡°What will the Council do?¡±

    The lead enforcer inclined her head again. ¡°Don¡¯t worry yourself over it, Master Guan.¡± She straightened with a polite smile. ¡°Please, enjoy the celebrations tonight. You have our regards.¡±

    With that, the enforcers led the screaming man away. By then his voice was torn and weak. Jinyue watched them fade down the street, a dark cloud swarming his chest.

    ¡°Master Guan, Master Guan!¡±

    He turned. A young boy carrying a basket of fresh autumn corn waved at him.

    ¡°Master Guan! Do you like sweet bean or lotus seed? My mama¡¯s makin¡¯ baozi for you tonight!¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± said Jinyue.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± said the boy. ¡°She says Lady Jie made the best baozi! Though you might miss ¡®em, so¡­¡± The boy grinned widely. ¡°So sweet bean? Or lotus seed? Or both?¡±

    Jinyue smiled, his discomfort forgotten.

    ¡°I¡¯d love some lotus seed baozi.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll make lots!¡± said the boy. ¡°You¡¯d better save room!¡±

    Jinyue laughed. With a thank you for the boy, whose name he didn¡¯t know, he began his walk back to the Guan estate.

    <hr>

    It happened at the abandoned shrine inside the valley forest.

    Nine years old and naive, Wenzhan had lingered too long in the shadows. He was searching for a white fox that day, because the school children had fooled him into thinking an immortal godling lived in such a form, haunting the valley forest. By chance, he¡¯d chased down a white creature to the lost shrine. And because it was a shrine¡ªthough old, centuries old, chipped, and covered in living greens¡ªhe fancied it must be fate. The immortal fox had brought him to the shrine to pray.

    Ironic, in retrospect.

    He wasn¡¯t supposed to be there that day. He was supposed to be at the Guan estate, studying. Playing in the woods was a delinquent offense, so when Wenzhan heard the approaching footsteps, he hid behind the trees. The wiser course have been to leave the area entirely, yet he was not ready to give up on meeting his white fox. Then he recognized the voices, and immortal godlings did not matter so much.

    Hard to pin at first. The first voice was strewn by breath and laughter, nothing in the way of its usual elegant composure. Light footsteps ran to a stop within the shrine. The laughing gave way to words, a smile curling the syllables.

    ¡°Not coming?¡±

    The second set of footsteps had stopped chasing.

    ¡°It¡¯s a shrine,¡± said the second voice, windblown and deep. Distinct. Wenzhan straightened and fought the urge to peer at the owner.

    A light laugh, Anjie¡¯s. ¡°Enjoy your superstitions, then. I will be in here.¡±

    There was a pause. Meanwhile, Wenzhan frowned behind the trees. He was of the same mind as Ziyuan¡ªthere was something unlikeable about that man, the one with Anjie, something disturbingly paradoxical about his strange softness and sharpness. Back then, Wenzhan was not so viscerally jealous. He was merely irritated to see his brother playing games with him.

    And it was a game, a ridiculous sort. The autumn leaves suddenly rustled. Those footsteps struck old stone. Anjie laughed again¡ªand was cut off sharply with a quick breath and other sounds. Wenzhan made a face, innocent enough to be vaguely horrified at the concept of kissing. It went on for quite a time too, dissolving from something passioned to something gentle.

    At last, between the breaths, Anjie¡¯s soft, unhinged words drifted over. Wenzhan would not have caught the intimate murmur if he did not have his sharpened hearing.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be cursed for this, Jun Musheng.¡±

    Another kiss.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± said Musheng, in a voice that Wenzhan had never heard before. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Says the man who dares not point at the moon.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± said Musheng again. ¡°I¡¯ll take any curse for you.¡±

    Anjie laughed yet again. His lungs had seemed to be filled with the ease of it that day. ¡°Brave words. But the old shrine gods can be quite cruel, don¡¯t you know?¡± Faintly softer, ¡°They can lock you in a cage and bind you to a blade. Are you sure you can endure such a curse?¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°I would rather free you from it,¡± said Musheng. ¡°But if that¡¯s not possible, then yes. I¡¯ll share it with you.¡±

    Quiet. The forest trees hushed with a breeze.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want that,¡± Anjie eventually murmured. His voice sounded muffled, vulnerable and protected at once.

    ¡°I do,¡± said Musheng. ¡°Let the shrine gods hear my words, Guan Anjie. I want you.¡±

    Their conversation melted away afterward. Wenzhan, entranced, felt his nerves crawl beneath his skin as the sounds echoed in his ears. It would be years before those feelings of confusion, revulsion, and innocent fascination morphed into something else. And then the raw, ruined mess of Anjie¡¯s voice would haunt his dreams like the horrific shrine curses he had warned his lover of, always whispering that same name.

    Musheng.

    Musheng.

    Musheng.

    ¡°Wenzhan. Oh, Wenzhan¡ªWen¡ªfuck, fuck¡ªI¡¯m¡ª¡±

    Nails dug into his skin, a shuddered groan. He finished and collapsed onto the bed, rolling to the edge. As always, the shame came after the high of his fantasies. Frustration drummed his pulse, built in his throat. He shut his eyes and ignored the gasps heaving behind him.

    There is nothing wrong with you.

    How laughable. There could be little more wrong in the world than dreaming of his name on his brother¡¯s lips while he came inside a woman.

    Fingers traced his back. Wenzhan didn¡¯t move, letting that gentle hand stain with his sweat and intangible grime.

    ¡°You alright?¡± said Suzha.

    Wenzhan grunted.

    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you pleasant? Not even a thank you? I let you go at it pretty hard, too.¡± As if to prove her point, Suzha hissed as she shifted upright. ¡°Don¡¯t remember the last time you were so rough.¡±

    He glanced over his shoulder. Despite the pained noise, Suzha was smiling down at him. In the orange evening sunlight, her skin shimmered, a mixture of afterglow and moisture. Her eyes were faintly hazed, her lips swollen. A beautiful sight, yet only barely enough to nudge away Wenzhan¡¯s uglier thoughts.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he mumbled.

    Suzha laughed. ¡°There we go. Our boy still has his manners.¡± She pat his ass and then sauntered off to the washroom of her tiny apartment complex. When she returned with fresh robes and damp hair, she said, ¡°So I¡¯ve been hearing about a thing tonight at your place. Care to catch me up?¡±

    Wenzhan opened his eyes, which had drifted closed during her shower. ¡°The Remembrance. It¡¯s the annual thanksgiving.¡±

    ¡°Keep talking.¡±

    He sighed and sat up. Suzha had come to Guilin several months after last year¡¯s Remembrance, so she was asking for the whole exposition. Too lazy to give it in detail, Wenzhan merely said, ¡°It¡¯s to thank House Guan for defending Guilin against the last invasion.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve heard about that. Yulai put on a two year siege, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°One year. And it wasn¡¯t a siege.¡±

    ¡°How old were you then?¡±

    ¡°Ten.¡±

    Suzha crawled onto the bed again, eyes lighting up with curiosity. ¡°Yeah? What happened?¡±

    He scratched his head in annoyance.

    ¡°People fought. People died. They kept me out of it. So I guess, if you want my perspective, it was a lot of sitting around waiting for the damned killing to stop.¡±

    ¡°I heard Yulai got swallowed up by Xijia and Beiguo afterward. Too crippled from the battles here to defend themselves.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°But House Guan¡¯s just, what, a hundred people? Less? Yulai was a whole kingdom.¡±

    Wenzhan grunted again, tugging his clothes over and beginning to dress.

    ¡°So, it¡¯s an open invitation?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°To the thanksgiving thing. Can I come?¡±

    He paused, uncertain if he wanted his family meeting Suzha. She was neither a girlfriend nor a simple friend¡ªa keeper, perhaps, for his rawer self. She did not know his secrets, but she knew the unadulterated consequences of having them, the urges that drove him to drink and fight and fuck and drown himself in his self-destructive indulgence. He preferred their relationship private.

    Suzha tugged lightly at his ear. ¡°What? Ashamed of me?¡±

    He shrugged her off and stood. ¡°Come if you want.¡±

    By nightfall, the town was adorned with fresh red and white lanterns in honor of the guardian house. Guilinhe village was even more vivid, paper cranes twined from light pole to light pole. Come morning, the lanterns would be hidden and the cranes would be burnt. They were meant to sit vigil for only one night, a restriction set by the old First Lords of House Guan so that thanksgiving was merely thanksgiving, and remembrance remained remembrance. There had been many past Remembrance days for all the times House Guan had protected Guilin in its three hundred and sixty year history. Each Remembrance day had been overridden by the next, so that House Guan was only celebrated like this once a year.

    A precaution like the sterility of their unchosen descendants, like the intentional crippling of their shamans: The Guardian House must never be glorified beyond these singular days of celebration, lest one day, their pride led them to forget their purpose. With power like theirs, such a thing would become a nightmare.

    Already, the people of Guilin flooded the fields and gardens beyond the Guan estate. It was a night to express gratitude, so they came bearing gifts and flags, children sitting atop shoulders with woven cranes in their hands. Stalls had been set up with food and goods, things to sustain the growing crowd through the night. It was not an extravagantly planned affair, but a simple gesture¡ªso that when the guardians of Guilin looked outside their estate windows tonight, they might see the love of the province keeping them company.

    Wenzhan purchased a crane mask from a vendor on his way to the estate and wore it now, inconspicuous among the crowd. If anyone recognized his figure and shorn hair, they seemed respectful enough of his efforts to leave him alone. Beside him, Suzha handed over the coins for a bag of dried plums. Plopping one in her mouth, she asked, ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said. ¡°They just come here to hang out.¡±

    ¡°How exciting.¡±

    ¡°We can leave.¡±

    As he said it, a cheering rippled through the crowd. A row of villagers dressed in beautiful red-gemmed, white-silk robes were floating into the center of a quickly forming opening. ¡°Make way, make way,¡± shouted a young boy at the head of the procession. ¡°The cranes come to dance!¡± The cheers started again as the young boy, along with two girls, began to beat the drums hanging at their chests in practiced harmony.

    Suzha tugged at Wenzhan¡¯s sleeve and pointed toward the thick, low branch of a nearby tree.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go over there.¡±

    He followed her. They were sitting on the branch moments later, hidden by the canopy shadow and overlooking the estate exterior. Irritated by the holding string, Wenzhan peeled the crane mask off his face. Below, the performance flowed. It carried the rhythm of battle, yet with a romanticized beauty.

    ¡°It¡¯s not bad,¡± said Suzha. ¡°Want to try one?¡±

    Wenzhan peered at her. She held out a dark plum. When he reached for it, she pressed the small, salted treat into his mouth.

    ¡°Say, Wenzhan, if there¡¯s ever another invasion, would you have to fight too?¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°You guess?¡±

    ¡°I guess I have to.¡±

    Suzha made a noise and looked forward again. ¡°That¡¯s kind of fucked, isn¡¯t it? Not saying you¡¯d definitely die, but you really don¡¯t get a say in whether you get to keep your life or not, do you?¡±

    ¡°People don¡¯t get a say in a lot of things,¡± said Wenzhan.

    ¡°Have you ever thought about leaving?¡±

    He frowned. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Leaving. Getting the hell out of this place. You said it yourself, to Luxian. You never asked to be a Guan. Guilin¡¯s beautiful and all, but there¡¯s a whole ¡®nother world out there. So, Wen-Gege¡­¡± She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. ¡°Let¡¯s elope.¡±

    Wenzhan pushed her away. She laughed loudly, scrambling for balance on the tree branch.

    The dancing cranes on the ground were joined by masked, golden-cloaked men¡ªthe soldiers of Yulai. A riveting tension between their motions peaked and ebbed. In the end, the soldiers sprawled themselves gracefully on the ground, mimicking death. The cranes clustered around a single dancer, whose white robes were tossed aside with a flourish. Beneath it was a second robe, pure crimson. The crowd roared.

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to be?¡± said Suzha.

    Wenzhan swallowed a lump in his throat.

    ¡°The Red Crane.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t look like you¡¯re about to join the cheering.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°That¡¯s my brother,¡± he said quietly. The exaltation of the crowd was hard to bear because it was joyful, idolizing. Never witness to the tears on his brother¡¯s face. The words pressed at his throat, a fierce protective instinct. He exhaled. ¡°You said House Guan is only a hundred people, and Yulai was a kingdom. Yeah, it was a kingdom. And we weren¡¯t ready when they came the first time. We thought we were. But we had fucking snake with us. They wiped out half our house that first invasion. My parents. My uncles, cousins.¡±

    ¡°In the first invasion alone? Then how¡­¡±

    ¡°My brother survived,¡± said Wenzhan. He looked at the crimson garments on the dancer. They should be torn, gored, hideous. ¡°They say that when the fighting was over, not a speck of white was left on his robes. They say it was like this the first time, and it was like this the last time. They say it was all the blood of his enemies, but¡ª¡± Wenzhan barked a laugh, humorless. ¡°When the war was finally over, you would have thought he¡¯d carved all the blood out of his own heart instead.¡±

    Suzha was silent.

    Wenzhan shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s a heroic story for masses. For me, it¡¯s just a reminder of how useless I was when he needed us.¡±

    The cheering faded. The dancers dissipated into the crowd.

    Later, well into the night, the gates of the estate opened. The guardians emerged to greet the crowd, try their food, accept their gifts. It was not a procession, just intermittent and casual. Wenzhan spotted Jinyue, kneeling with a smile among a circle of youths, accepting a bag of steaming baozi.

    ¡°You should go join them,¡± said Suzha.

    Wenzhan shook his head.

    Before Suzha could press again, Anjie appeared with Ziyuan at his side. Those two drew a different ripple through the gathering, a warm hush, a respectful retreat, as if afraid to suffocate the two guardians with their intense admiration. Noticing, Suzha said, ¡°That¡¯s him? Your eldest brother?¡±

    Wenzhan nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s my first time seeing him,¡± said Suzha. There was an odd tension to her voice.

    Wenzhan turned to her, frowning. She met him quickly with a smile. Too quickly.

    ¡°He¡¯s something else, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    He turned back to Anjie. A villager was kneeling before him, offering fine red garments in her weathered hands. Anjie pulled her gently upright, taking the gift with a smile and some certainly gracious words. As he straightened, he brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Aside from this small slip, nothing about his appearance was out of place. Nothing about his motions, about his expression. He was as polished as fine porcelain, displayed upon a pedestal to be admired.

    Wenzhan¡¯s thoughts drifted back to the forest shrine. Back then, when Anjie¡¯s voice had broken, a young Wenzhan had mistaken the sounds as pain. Afraid for his brother, he had bolted out of the cover of the trees. He¡¯d stumbled ferociously toward that shrine, only to find his brother¡¯s arms wrapped around the man above him. Anjie had reacted quickly, shoving back Musheng and sitting upright.

    ¡°Ah-Zhan!¡± he said, as flustered as Wenzhan had ever¡ªand ever would¡ªsee him. Yet even as his face flushed and he scrambled to cover his hips, his body curled closer to the man next to him. Musheng had instinctively shielded him at the intrusion, his dark hand sprawling over the crane on Anjie¡¯s back. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°He¡ªhe was hurting you!¡±

    Musheng rubbed his brow, chuckling. ¡°Ah, heavens¡­¡±

    With a sharp frown, Anjie shoved at Musheng, which only roused more laughter. ¡°This is not amusing. Ah-Zhan, you should be studying. Go on home.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    Perhaps sensing Wenzhan¡¯s lingering suspicion of Musheng, Anjie said, ¡°He isn¡¯t hurting me, Ah-Zhan. Look, he hasn¡¯t even hit back. And he could not hurt me if he tried. Go on, please.¡±

    Wenzhan had gone. Because indeed, who could hurt the untouchable Guan Anjie?

    And who could humanize the perfect, deified First Guardian of Guilin?

    No one, thought Wenzhan with an aching bitterness¡ªno one so brutally, and so thoroughly, as the man he had left his brother to beneath the shrine of the fox god.

    ¡°Wenzhan? Wenzhan, he¡¯s looking this way.¡±

    Wenzhan blinked. The valley forest faded away. Indeed, his brother had spotted him in the tree, and was smiling. Wenzhan returned the gesture, his lips pulling weakly. Inside, his heart wrung. For all the softness of those copper eyes, all the warmth they held for the people of Guilin, that smile had been porcelain for a long decade.

 Part I: The House of Guardians | 5

    The people of Guilin provided more food on the Remembrance night than even a household of a starving hundred could consume. Late afternoon on the following day, so that the perishables would not go to waste, Jinyue wheeled a barrow of leftovers to the Rizhai poorhouse for dinner. He had the time on his hands and a desire to be present among the people, for after the celebrations last night, he¡¯d slept with the elevated feeling of a lordling. Not what the thanksgiving was meant to instill. Humility was not a natural condition but a deliberate effort, so Jinyue rolled the food pile through the roads.

    The red lanterns were down. The paper cranes were gone. Jinyue walked beneath the soft autumn breeze, the vivid greens that had not yet yellowed. At his side, his young attendant followed in respectful silence.

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯d not rather have a break?¡± said Jinyue.

    The seventeen year old Su Cailan started at his sudden question. Shaking her head, she said, ¡°It¡¯s fine, Master Guan.¡±

    Jinyue smiled, not arguing. She was a devoted girl, had been since her family joined House Guan as a peripheral branch nine years ago. The Sus, which once served the Guilin Provincial Council as enforcers, had fought against the final Yulai invasion with extraordinary courage. It was only fitting that Anjie offered them a place in the household afterward. Jinyue¡¯s attendant was only an eight year old girl at the time, but she had blossomed into a resilient warrior and would almost certainly, in due time, receive the crane upon her back. He was lucky to have her service.

    Wanting to make her time today worthwhile, Jinyue struck up a conversation.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be taking the college entrance exams at the end of this year, no?¡±

    Cailan started again. ¡°Ah, yes, Master Guan.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll be good. There will be someone to keep an eye out on Wenzhan while he¡¯s wrapping up his studies.¡±

    ¡°I would have to pass the exams first, Master Guan.¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t so difficult,¡± said Jinyue, recalling his time at the college. In Guilin there was only one college, and it had educated almost every member of the Guan family. ¡°I suppose it may feel that way since you haven¡¯t been in school for a time. Perhaps you¡¯d like to take the next two months off to prepare?¡±

    ¡°T-that¡¯s not necessary, Master Guan! I wouldn¡¯t want to leave you unattended.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been attending to myself for some time before I took you on. Of course, you¡¯d be sorely missed, but your education comes first.¡±

    The girl looked at the ground and lifted a hand as if to brush hair behind her ear. But there was no hair to brush, as hers had been primly tied into a bun. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say so, Master Guan. There isn¡¯t much I would do with a college education. My place is¡­¡± She paused, like the words had hinged in her throat. Swallowing, ¡°With House Guan.¡±

    Jinyue lifted an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t seem certain of that.¡±

    ¡°Ah, no! No, that isn¡¯t why¡­ Master Guan, I am certain of it, I am. There¡¯d be no greater honor than to serve House Guan for the rest of my life, I know it.¡±

    Jinyue chuckled. ¡°You won¡¯t be able to take back those words when you receive the crane. But until then, don¡¯t bury your options. Besides, don¡¯t you know of Zhang Lanyu and Xi Mona? They¡¯re able to make a life outside of Guilin because of their education at the college. We do need cranes to keep up with the rest of the world¡¯s affairs, after all. Perhaps one day you would like to be one of them.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    Cailan bit her lip and glanced down again. ¡°Yes, Master Guan.¡±

    They arrived at the Rizhai poorhouse shortly before dinnertime, when a small line of children, beggars, and elderly was forming along the street. Jinyue smiled at their waves, more energetic than their hunger would normally allow. He handed the food to the poorhouse keeper to distribute fairly, and then because his own dinner was not for another hour and a half, he lingered to help hand out the portions. The large windows of the poorhouse soon became decorated with the peering faces of children.

    ¡°Not sure if they¡¯re here to eat with their mouths or their eyes,¡± said the poorhouse keeper, a jovial woman with silvering hair.

    Jinyue laughed. ¡°Dining should be an affair for all the senses, no?¡±

    ¡°Tell it to the kids, Master Guan. Food¡¯ll run out if they don¡¯t stop staring!¡±

    Jinyue smiled and finished piling a tray of food. He passed it to his attendant. ¡°Cailan, for the children, if you don¡¯t mind. The little ones. Tell the rest to line up, please.¡±

    Cailan nodded and went.

    When she had gone out of earshot, the keeper chuckled. ¡°That one likes you, Master Guan.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°The young lady. I know girls when I see ¡®em. And I know young masters too. Break her heart easy, alright?¡±

    Jinyue blinked, hesitating to pass a portion to the next man in line. It was the first he¡¯d heard of such a thing, and he wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. Cailan, after all, was but seventeen. And Jinyue had never felt any attraction toward women¡ªor men.

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not mistaken, Mrs. He? Perhaps it¡¯s just her kind nature.¡±

    The keeper barked a laugh. ¡°You have a kind nature, Master Guan, and no one¡¯s going around mistaking it for anything else.¡±

    Jinyue shifted uncomfortably.

    A little while later, the decor of peering faces scattered from the windows. Curious, Jinyue looked that way. Beyond the glass, a stir was happening. The same went for the end of the line, near and past the exit¡ªsomething outside was drawing their attention.

    Jinyue frowned, listening to the chattering crowd. Somebody murmured, madman.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Jinyue, setting down the food. He pushed his way through the crowd and left the poorhouse.

    The poorhouse was just beyond the ring of the town square, where the authoritative words of a hard voice was luring throngs of people. Behind Jinyue, Cailan called to him. He didn¡¯t respond, a cold foreboding sealing his lips as he followed the throng forward. Soon he emerged into the square opening. He was met with the face of a familiar man atop the central platform.

    The murmurs of the crowd and the declarations of the enforcers blurred behind his pulse. That man had been changed into cheap white garments, and the garments were stained wet and yellow¡ªyellow like the soup he¡¯d screamed of. Eyes dilated, but not with Heavensbane. Red veins, not from a high. His hair was wilder than the last morning, giving him the silhouette of a truer madman. But beneath the clear evening light, his face was sober, stark, and terrified.

    Distribution of an outlawed poison...hereby sentenced to death¡­

    Jinyue pushed the crowd apart. An executioner unsheathed a heavy sword.

    ¡°Wait,¡± he said. ¡°Wait!¡±

    By the foot of the platform, an elderly man stopped screaming. This man pried himself out of the enforcers¡¯ arms that held him back, staggering with a frail form toward Jinyue. ¡°Master Guan! Master Guan, please, my son¡ªmy son¡ª¡±

    Jinyue looked at the executioner, an unfamiliar man. He looked behind the executioner, at the woman who had led the enforcers, the same one who had delivered the sentencing. She gazed down at him, frowning faintly.

    ¡°Master Guan.¡±

    ¡°This can¡¯t be right,¡± said Jinyue. ¡°The death penalty is far too severe for his crime.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect, Master Guan, that is for the Council to decide.¡±

    Jinyue shook his head. ¡°You would be killing a man for a lesser evil. He does not deserve to die!¡±

    ¡°He attempted to poison the people of Guilin for little but his own greed. If such a transgression is not deserving of death, then how may be call ourselves the protectors of the province?¡±

    She meant to slap his cheek with those words. And he did feel the sting on his skin, of a righteous fury¡ªthat she had the nerve to pretend guardianship when she had a blade to a man¡¯s throat. Gritting his teeth, Jinyue said, ¡°Hold the punishment. House Guan claims right to this judgment.¡±

    The enforcer arched an eyebrow.

    ¡°Upon what grounds?¡±

    Jinyue didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°It is the code of the Council that this man violated, Master Guan. The right to judgment belongs to the Council. And the Council has judged. He will die, and cease to be a threat to Guilin.¡±

    Jinyue¡¯s hand lifted to his sword hilt. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Master Guan!¡± cried the elderly father.

    ¡°Master Guan,¡± said Cailan.

    The enforcer¡¯s gaze drifted to the threat at his palm. Then she locked on his eyes. ¡°Master Guan,¡± said the enforcer, ¡°These are the laws of Guilin. We did not change them for this man. You would not be drawing your blade against us.¡±

    His grip tightened. ¡°Let him go.¡±

    ¡°These are the laws of Guilin,¡± said the enforcer again.

    In Jinyue¡¯s silence, a stillness hung over the town square. The seconds ticked. His hand quivered.

    Then the executioner lifted his blade.

    ¡°Master Guan! Master Guan, please¡ª¡±

    The father clawed at Jinyue¡¯s robes, his voice shredded and wet. Cailan held the old man back, her eyes plastered wide to Jinyue. The metal carvings of Jinyue¡¯s sword stretched the skin of his cold, unsteady palm.

    On the platform, the sentenced man stared at Jinyue.

    Crane, he had said. Crane.

    ¡°Please,¡± whispered this man now, ¡°I don¡¯t want to die. I don¡¯t want to die.¡±

    ¡°Master Guan,¡± pled the father, ¡°save my son! Please save my son! Master Guan!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to die...¡±

    ¡°Master Guan!¡±

    The blade fell.

    A head rolled to the edge of the platform.

    The voices became silent.

    ¡°Ah-Ming,¡± whispered the old man. ¡°Ah-Ming. Ah-Ming. My son. My son¡­¡±

    On the platform, the enforcer clasped her hands and bowed at Jinyue. Cailan took his arm and guided him out of the crowd. Numb, he staggered after her, his hand slipping loose from his sealed blade.

    <hr>

    ¡°Jin-Ge. Jin-Ge, you¡¯ve got the wrong tempo.¡±

    Wenbo tugged at Jinyue¡¯s sleeve, interrupting the mechanical vibrations of his zither strings. It was that same late evening after Jinyue had missed dinner. He sat with his little sister and his elder brother in the family¡¯s private tea room, an autumn breeze drifting in from the night garden at his back. Solar lights illuminated the room while Wenbo practiced her zither with him, while Anjie scripted the affairs of the day for his records. Now his brother¡¯s pen hovered in his hand, eyes lifting at the interrupted music.

    Jinyue pushed his thoughts away. Smiling for his little sister, he said, ¡°Maybe you should try.¡±

    Wenbo straightened her back and poised her fingers over her strings. With a flourished pluck, an earthen melody began. The usual tones of her youthful energy simmered peacefully, as if she were not a ten year old child but as old as the wood of her instrument¡ªas old as the composition itself. The Moon over the Mountain thrummed gently through the tea room, dreamlike. The soft noise of pen against paper began again.

    ¡°Almost,¡± said Jinyue when the music had ended.

    Wenbo frowned. ¡°Almost?¡±

    He hadn¡¯t been concentrated enough to recall the flaws of her long rendition. So instead, he said, ¡°You did well tonight. It¡¯s late now, so let¡¯s continue tomorrow.¡±

    Wenbo slumped again, crossing her arms. ¡°Don¡¯t wanna.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t want to continue tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t wanna go.¡±

    Jinyue frowned. This was a first. Typically, the girl was more than eager to be done with her zither lessons. Even Anjie had paused again, though it was only a quick glance this time.

    ¡°Why not?¡± said Jinyue.

    Wenbo hunched a little further. With an uncharacteristic mumble, ¡°Bad dreams.¡±

    ¡°Bad dreams?¡± Jinyue chuckled. ¡°What about?¡±

    In their peripheral, Anjie tore off a parchment from his notebook and crumpled it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± said Wenbo. ¡°Lots. I had to pull the feathers off a bird last night. And then the moon turned yellow and red and fell down, and then my teeth turned all yellow and red and fell out!¡± she said, pointing to her upper incisors. ¡°And, and¡­¡± She straightened now, pouting. ¡°And Wen-Ge kept putting fish bones in An-Ge¡¯s soup. The sharp ones too!¡±

    Jinyue looked at Anjie, who was smiling now.

    ¡°Bobo¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah-Bo,¡± said Anjie, ¡°when was the last time you spoke to Ah-Zhan?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡±

    ¡°Two weeks, no?¡± said Anjie.

    Wenbo scratched her cheek guiltily. Two weeks ago was when the Songs had come for justice with their injured son¡ªwhen Anjie, upon hearing their accusations against Wenzhan, had ordered their little sister up to bed before calling in their younger brother.

    ¡°Did you know the plums you had for breakfast yesterday were from him? He went early to the market to fetch them fresh for you.¡±

    Wenbo looked down, biting her lip.

    ¡°I am sure that if he was putting fish bones in my soup, it was because he thought it best for the flavor.¡± Anjie paused. When Wenbo looked up, he continued. ¡°Your brother made a mistake and he has hurt for it enough. What must he be feeling now, to know that his beloved little sister can¡¯t forgive him?¡±

    She scratched her ear, silent.

    Jinyue sighed. In due time, she would make amends with Wenzhan.

    ¡°Would you like to spend the night with Lulu?¡± said Jinyue, speaking of the other young girls in the household. ¡°Or maybe Tiantian? Company is a good medicine for nightmares.¡±

    ¡°Lulu broke my pencils,¡± said Wenbo. ¡°Maybe Ruo-Jie.¡±

    They tidied away her zither. Before she left the room, Wenbo ran up to Anjie¡¯s table and leaned over, kissing his cheek. He was the only one she did this for, as Anjie had raised her since she was months old with the same affection. In a way, Jinyue understood her reluctance to forgive Wenzhan for causing the beating she had disobediently witnessed. Wenzhan was her older brother. Anjie was her older brother too, but also the closest to a parent she would ever have.

    When the tea room doors slid shut behind their sister, Jinyue turned back to his own zither. He laid his fingers over the strings, heavy.

    ¡°Did something happen today, Ah-Yue?¡±

    Jinyue watched the solar light glimmer off a string. ¡°I let a man die today.¡±

    Anjie set his pen down, waiting.

    ¡°He was a vulnerable man,¡± said Jinyue, softly. ¡°He made a mistake. Heavensbane. I believe he tried to sell it. But he didn¡¯t hurt anyone.¡± He paused. ¡°They executed him at the square. His father was there. He begged me to save his son.¡± Jinyue shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t. My sword was in my hand, and I let him die.¡±

    A silence. The autumn cicadas chirped.

    ¡°You did not let him die, Ah-Yue. You did not have the power to stop it.¡±

    ¡°But I did. You know I could have done it.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Anjie, ¡°but the power to disregard the law of Guilin is absolute. If we take that power, then we become absolute. House Guan does not exist to govern or to control, Ah-Yue. Only to protect.¡±

    ¡°When I brought Chang Dazhe back here,¡± said Jinyue, speaking of the foreign rapist from late August, ¡°he asked me by what law. I know it was different, that he didn¡¯t fall under the jurisdiction of the Council. I know that. But still¡ªwhat is justice besides saving a man¡¯s life? If we can maim a man like Chang Dazhe, then why did I have to stand by while a more innocent man was killed? An-Ge, it feels so wrong.¡±

    Anjie hesitated.

    At last, softly, ¡°It is. But we cannot protect Guilin nor its people if we do not protect its laws. Or else, what is there to protect Guilin from us?¡±

    ¡°And if the law is wrong?¡±

    ¡°That is not for one man to decide.¡±

    Jinyue closed his eyes, seeing the sentenced man¡¯s flesh part to blade. Seeing his eyes, begging, crane¡ªcrane, the guardian symbol of his home. Jinyue had known all this back at the square, and it was why his sword could not unsheathe. But only hearing his brother echo his thoughts did the guilt cease to suffocate. It merely lingered now in ugly tendrils.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Jinyue.

    Anjie paused.

    ¡°It seems that people have taken a liking to apologizing to me these days. Why are you sorry?¡±

    Jinyue shook his head. ¡°It feels like I handed the decision off to you again.¡±

    ¡°You made the decision, Ah-Yue. And it was the right one.¡±

    Jinyue peered at his brother. He was dressed lightly today, his hair loose, his robes simple. In the past ten years, it did not seem like anything other than Anjie¡¯s eyes had aged. But that was a dangerous science, slowing his time at a heavy price¡ªa price his brother no longer allowed to be paid, breaking centuries of precedence and sacrifice. It is inhumane, he had said, and even guardians deserve better.

    Who was there to tell Anjie that he had made the right decision?

    ¡°Does your heart feel heavier when you assure me of that?¡± said Jinyue.

    Anjie hesitated. Then he smiled.

    ¡°Does yours feel lighter, Ah-Yue? Let it be light. One day, it will have many more burdens to carry than mine.¡±

    Jinyue wondered if it was true. Sighing, he listened to his brother and exhaled the weight from his chest. ¡°Thank you, An-Ge.¡±

    Anjie picked up his pen again. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    Jinyue stood up. He set away his zither. At the door, he glanced back at his brother, quietly writing beneath the calligraphy character hanging on the wall. Duty.

    ¡°Good night, An-Ge.¡±

    Anjie looked up. ¡°Good night, Ah-Yue.¡±

    <hr>

    Like the tick of a clock, the door clicked softly shut.

    Alone, Anjie laid his hands on the table and rolled the pen between his fingertips, absorbed in the smooth metal pressure. His gaze drifted toward the night garden, the autumn flowers silhouetted by moonlight. Eastern dahlia, marbled cyclamen, a whole gradient assortment of begonia¡ªAunt Baisun had begun planting these nine years ago, after their hard-earned peace drove a need to brighten the estate. Anjie loved the flowers. They were beautiful. Simple. Easy for man of little skill to transcribe onto paper.

    He looked down at the parchment he¡¯d torn and crumpled earlier. The parchment had loosened from its crumpling, revealing an idle cluster of begonia flowers inked into the corner. Anjie smoothed this corner. He traced his ever amateur lines for a moment before sighing and crumpling the parchment once more. This time, he tucked it inside his robes to discard properly.

    Turning back to his personal records, he continued where he had left off. The next lines began: Jinyue noted a Council execution for the distribution of Heavensbane. He seemed greatly troubled by the matter. I sat beneath the script of my forebearers and echoed their words to him. But I do not know what I would have done in his place¡­

    The pen scratched. The cicadas sang.

    A tapping came on the door.

    ¡°Anjie.¡±

    It was Ziyuan¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Come in,¡± said Anjie.

    The door slid open. Ziyuan appeared, dressed down in their darker night clothes, a folded paper in their hand. Ziyuan shut the door and walked to Anjie¡¯s table. Ziyuan set the paper over Anjie¡¯s unfinished entry and sat, eyes level as they spoke.

    ¡°Beiguo surrendered to Anzhou a few hours ago,¡± said Ziyuan. ¡°The war is over. Quan Caihe has her continental empire.¡±

    Anjie unfolded the paper, scanning the machine-printed words. It did not take him long to read, but his eyes lingered. The white parchment and black ink became the image of a snowing winter night, a rugged artist gazing half-robed out the frosted windows, a cup of wine in his hand, a bit of swell to his lips. Musheng looked at Anjie after something the young crane had said, his earthen eyes ever so sharp, ever so knowing. With a smile on his lips, he had spoken of this Quan Caihe, who was nothing but a small usurper then.

    She was born to conquer mountains, just as you were born to protect them. And in time, Guilin will tempt her like a pinnacle¡­

    Anjie folded the paper. He handed it back to Ziyuan.

    ¡°Send a message to our cranes who are beyond Guilin. Tell them it is time to come home.¡±

 Part II: The Greed of Dynasty | 6

    Quan Caihe leaned against the floral timber balustrade, breathing the night air of the northern mountains. Shanjing, capital of the newly surrendered kingdom of Beiguo, had not been touched by the gore of their war. Here the antique palace towered proud over the luxurious valley city, a beautiful mixture of natural greens and holograph lights, of glinting waterfalls and spotless fibersteel architecture. The rulers of Beiguo had lived in modest opulence, having both the advancements of modern civilization and the beauty of age-old natured¡ªquite contrary to the capital of Quan Caihe''s own kingdom, which leaned more toward the cybernetic modern. A shame the Beiguo lords had run like mice when the kingdom surrendered; Caihe would have liked to offer them a peaceful burial in this lovely place.

    Of course, on this continent there were lovelier lands. Legendary ones. Untouchable ones, shrouded in the myths of blood-stained ghosts. But for tonight, Caihe was satisfied with the balanced magnificence of Shanjing.

    "Your Grace. Your generals are ready for you."

    She peered over her shoulder at the bowed soldier. This one had been wounded in the recent final battle. The artificial flesh of his right arm had been removed to keep it from rotting, revealing only scratched machinery beneath. Not uncommon after this campaign into the north: just an hour ago, Caihe had spotted another soldier on a crutch, a leg all metal, wire, and limp. At least they felt little pain.

    "Thank you, Gulong. I''ll be there soon."

    The soldier bowed and left.

    Caihe took a final look at the afterdusk skyline. Straightening the folds of her silk dress, she made her way to the private upper meeting hall of the palace. A jovial murmuring seeped through the half-opened doors. Upon Caihe''s entrance, someone''s laughed turned into a cough. Six men and a woman began to push out their seats and rise.

    "No need," said Caihe, waving a hand.

    They had gathered in an atmospheric room, the pillars and the furniture all polished darkwood. A bonsai plant greened the corner; a monochrome mountain hologram sprawled the east wall, birds flitting scripted through the image. The solar lights, presented in clear lamps, mimicked the softness of fire. Warm shadows cast powerfully across the long table.

    Caihe took her seat at the head of this table. She surveyed the table before she spoke.

    "I called you all here tonight because there are some things that shouldn''t be said only in crowds."

    The seven waited. There had once been ten at the beginning of this great intercontinental war, filled with inevitable loss and sacrifice. From the coast of southern Yincheng below the millennia old Long River to the sprawling plateaus of the far west, they had waited like this for her every command. Perhaps now they expected the same¡ªa new order. But it wasn''t for war that she had assembled them tonight. It was for immortality.

    She met each pair of eyes, and then an eye without a pair.

    "Thank you."

    A struck pause followed her weighted words. The generals with two eyes glanced at each other. A lost, uncomfortable shifting began.

    "Your Grace..."

    "You don''t have to say anything," said Caihe. "You''ve spoken more than enough through your actions. You''ve given me the unity of a whole continent." Almost a whole continent. "It''s been a hundred and twenty-four years since we''ve had unity across the land. A decade ago, I couldn''t have dreamed of restoring it." False. "It''s by your courage and faith that we''ve come this far."

    "It''s by your strength," said her third general, appearing emotional. "Your Grace, we came this far because we followed you. Your steps paved the road. The honor of being a part of this journey¡ªYour Grace,weshould be thankingyou."

    The table rippled with agreement.

    Caihe smiled. They had forgotten that three months ago, two of them had been on the verge of mutiny. But victory was a powerful medicine indeed.

    "I''ve received your gratitude a hundred fold by your blood and your sweat. Now it''s time for me to give you my gratitude. When we return to the capital, you''ll have the expected rewards and more. But you deserve more than that.

    "You know that I don''t have family anymore. That the Quan name was betrayed and slaughtered many years ago. But we stand at the birth of a true dynasty¡ªas great as the Quan of old and the Tianxin Emperors before them. I''ve no intention of raising the dynasty alone. So I''d like to offer each of you and your children the Quan name."

    Like she''d slapped the moon down before them, the generals balked.

    "Don''t tell me your answer tonight," said Caihe. "I''ll hear it when we''ve returned to the capital. But there are a few other things as well. General Yan."

    "Your Grace?" said an older bearded man, his voice booming even in its polite reservation. He had arrived in the north only a week ago, bringing his forces from the conquered western kingdom of Xijia to reinforce the final push against northern Beiguo.

    "You know the west kingdom well," said Caihe, "and we couldn''t have Xijia without you. Whether you join my family or not, I''d like to appoint you State Regent of Xijia. Can I expect to have your answer by the time we return to Anzhou?"Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The man bowed his head and clasped his hands. "Your Grace, you may have it now. It would be my greatest honor."

    "I''m glad to hear it." Caihe turned to the only other woman at the table. "General Wei."

    "Your Grace," said the woman, inclining her head. She had led the critical siege of the last standing northern stronghold. She had done it alone too, without relying on detailed orders or reinforcements.

    "Beiguo would do well under your oversight."

    The woman clasped her hands and bowed her head lower yet. "It would be my honor."

    "And General Jun."

    She faced the one man who had not stirred at the offer of the Quan name. He sat at the shadowed end of the table, scruff in appearance tonight. Stubble and lazily bunned hair, the loose locks curling with uncanny disregard. His one eye drifted over now, soft and sharp¡ªand surprised.

    "Your Grace," he said.

    "This war would have dragged on another decade without your insights on the enemy," said Caihe. "You may have started a foreigner, but you''ve served us faithfully for five years. And no one can deny your talent. I think it''s time we restore to the court a position suitable for your skills." She arched an eyebrow. "General Jun, I''d like to appoint you Imperial Chief of Intelligence."

    The man paused. Said, "I''m honored. I''ll think on it as you wish, Your Grace."

    The rest of the room shared glances, quiet reservation. Caihe only smiled.

    "Then that is all. Please consider my offers, generals. And rest well tonight."

    The generals bade their respectful farewells and left. Only the last man she''d addressed remained in his shadowed seat.

    When the doors had shut on the two of them, Caihe leaned back in her chair and waited for the man to speak.

    "It''s a bold move," he said eventually.

    "What is?"

    He glanced her way. "To elevate a traitor."

    "Are you one still?"

    He smiled. "I have a history, no? You wouldn''t have Beiguo and Xijia''s secrets otherwise."

    Caihe chuckled, rising. She skimmed her fingertips along the polished darkwood table as she approached her company. At his side, she pulled away the adjacent chair and leaned against the table. The skirt of her dress brushed the fabric of his trousers.

    She gazed down at the general. He was a rugged fellow, handsome when his face turned leftward. Handsome to some people even when he didn''t turn, but that part of his face was marred with an old, deep scar that halved his eyebrow and crossed the sealed hollow where an eye used to be. He scared children with that face, even when he smiled, even though his smile was a soft one. And he was always smiling too. The damaged left corner of his lips never lifted as high as the right. Perpetually crooked.

    They say that those who never frown can never be trusted.

    Quan Caihe mirrored his smile, but with more grace and symmetry.

    "It''s true," she said. "A man like you is a gamble wherever he goes." Yulai, Guilin, Xijia, Beiguo¡ªhe had certainly gone many places, unashamed to lay that slithery history before her. "And so far, you''ve played them all. Quite brutally too, no?"

    "I have."

    No pride, no guilt. It was a matter of fact.

    Pleased, as ever she was by his ungilded talent, Caihe reached for the old jade pendant at her general''s collar. A twined dragon, detailed to the scales and billowing mane. She had never seen him without it. Rubbing it now with the man so compliantly enduring, she felt a satisfying sense of possession.

    "It''s pretty. May I have it?"

    "With all due respect, Your Grace, no."

    She dropped the pendant and laughed. When the pleasure had simmered, she propped a foot on his chair, between his legs, and leaned forward.

    "The dragon is the champion of the gods," said Caihe. "Of dynasty and the epitome of power. Is that what you are after? Betraying nation after nation. And yet this pretty pendant of yours seems more like a sentimental aesthetic than any real desire." She cocked her head. "What is it that you really want, Jun Musheng?"

    "Not much, Your Grace. To live a little longer, I suppose."

    "A bold lie. Everybody wants something."

    He was quiet, his one eye unwavering.

    At last he smiled, that eye half-lidding. "Only one then, Your Grace. The integrity of peace."

    "The integrity of peace?"

    A permanence, he likely meant. A noble thing to wish for¡ªand nearly appropriate. The windlike, untethered intensity of this man had always seemed bound for something as beautiful as a noble wish. But among the lust of insatiable men, an everlasting peace could never be.

    Caihe laughed. "I see. Your dream is an impossible one, so you live chasing its mirage. Something like that?"

    "You could say so."

    Caihe raised an eyebrow.

    "I had you pegged for practical. You''re a mysterious man after all."

    "And yet you want me to handle the new empire''s secrets. Wouldn''t you be wary of what a mysterious man might do with those secrets, Your Grace?"

    "Naturally. But you stand at the pinnacle of this continent now." She wrapped her hands around the arms of his chair. Her hair fell over her shoulders, the soft ends brushing his chest. "What could you do next, Musheng? Kill me? Take the regency?" She lifted her fingers to his halved eyebrow, skimming the soft hollow beneath, the scarred flesh. "But you don''t have the eyes of an emperor, General. There is no lust in them. Your dream might be impossible, but in my empire, you can find the mirage you''ve been chasing. Peace at last, and perhaps for centuries to come."

    "At last?" he said.

    Caihe withdrew.

    "You''re right. I misspoke. The continent''s not whole yet."

    Musheng lifted his good eyebrow. "I wouldn''t recommend it, Your Grace. As beautiful a trophy as Guilin is, that place is guarded by a merciless god. He''ll damn you if you cross his land with ill intentions."

    "Oh? You sound scared."

    "For good reason. If you are going to invade Guilin, I''m afraid I can''t follow."

    Caihe cocked her head.

    "Did he take your eye?"

    Musheng didn''t say anything.

    "And only an eye," she said then, smiling. "A pitiful damnation. Or was it that you had the skill to escape his wrath?"

    "It was luck," said Musheng, "and you won''t have it, Your Grace."

    "But I have you."

    She pushed off the table and walked around his chair. Behind it, she smoothed the wrinkles of his autumn jacket. She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling them tense. Kneaded those muscles, hovering in their intimate space.

    "Don''t you want revenge for your eye, Musheng? Don''t you want to see this merciless god again? To see him mortal, and to take from him what precious things he took from you?"

    A breath escaped his throat. A soft, strange sound.

    Caihe pressed her lips to his ear.

    "Follow me there. Lend me your insight again. I''ll bring that god to your feet, and you can do to him whatever your heart desires. And when we are done, I''ll give you peace. I''ll give you as much of your dream as this world can make possible."

    Musheng closed his eye.

    Caihe slipped her fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. She kissed his mouth, thrilled by the soft, then strong, then desperate reciprocation.

    When they parted, and his eye flickered open. A rich, dilated black. She gazed down at him.

    "Our brilliance is greater than myths and gods. Believe in me, Jun Musheng. The legends of Guilin will become mortal again."

 Part II: The Greed of Dynasty | 7

    The landscape of the central southwest passed in rolling fields beyond the train window, a softer image than the earlier metropolitan clusters of the journey. Xi Mona of House Guan, returning home after eight years of academia in the southern capital, felt her modern-life anxiety melt away like the fibersteel and holotech imagery. It was only a temporary peace¡ªMona had no illusions about why Anjie had called them home at this time¡ªbut still, she could feel her pulse in her throat at the anticipation of being home.

    The last time she had seen the beautiful valley was when Yulai had invaded with their army. Back then, Mona stayed only long enough to fight, cry, and bury the family and friends she had not seen in years. Since Mona had turned twenty-six, she had been living outside, researching cybernetics in a metropolitan university, eating processed nutrients and wearing synthetic fashion, tracking the mundane advancements of the ever-changing external world. Her duty was simple¡ªto be an extension of the guardian house that kept up with the modern outside, so that Guilin¡¯s traditions did not leave them vulnerable to blindsiding. Some days her life was pleasant. Some days it simply was. Most days, Guilin felt like a distant dream stirred away by the routine of her instant morning coffee.

    When she received the message on her comm tablet, it had felt like waking up. Now the dream was Yincheng, that sprawling port city where her apartment and cat and talking coffee machine waited. It was a mistake, really; she should have given the cat away. There was no saying when she would be returning to that life again.

    In the history of Guilin, the House only called their outside cranes home for three reasons: the death of the First Lord, the naming of a new one, and the imminence of war. Anjie had given the order, which meant this was about the last of the three. The threat, no doubt, came from Anzhou.

    Mona had moved to the Anzhou capital of Yincheng shortly after the ruling Hua family had been overthrown by Quan Caihe and her supporters. She had seen Quan Caihe at city celebrations, a charming and extraordinary woman by the look of her eyes and the poise of her posture alone. The propaganda spun a tale of a heroic return from the ashes, for the Quan family had once ruled Anzhou¡ªand over a century ago, ruled the whole continent. Mona had thought that winning this war of unification would satisfy the empress-regent, but it seemed that the House had different premonitions.

    If they were right, it would not be the first time the Quans attempted to take Guilin. Back in 365, after the First Warring States Period of the Ashless Era, the rising Quans had attempted to claim the autonomous traditional valley¡ªand met the ghost-like cranes that inhabited the land. That was the birth of the legend: House Guan formed in the aftermath of that horrific battle, and the valley was renamed Guilin¡ªthe Ghost Forest¡ªby the external states. Few invasions had occurred since, but each time, House Guan had stood victorious.

    Mona hoped they would not have to add a fifth marker for the histories. Their enemy felt different this time. And their house, for better or for worse, was far weaker than the titanium-hearted Guan of old.

    Early afternoon, the train docked at the nearest station to Guilin. From there Mona hitched a half-hour ride to the small town of Duling, and from there, she arranged a trip with a merchant heading south into Guilin scheduled for the next day. The merchant was jovial about it, declaring he had made much bank the last week from the returning guardians. Mona, he said, was the ninth. Which meant that she was among the last, if not the last. Having had some matters to wrap up in the city, she¡¯d delayed her return by about a week since receiving the message.

    The next morning, the Duling merchant took her south on a large truck of produce and wares. It was a four hour drive to the valley region, crossing uninhabited fields and barren flatlands. The appearance of rich vivid greens marked their approach.

    He dropped her off on the outskirts of Beicheng, northmost town of the little valley province. The Council guards on duty checked him in for his business and allowed Mona to pass after seeing her emblemed sword. That thing had drawn quite a bit of attention on her trip, had been hidden away in her apartment for years. Walking down the Beicheng roads with her hand on the hilt, she could almost feel the metal sing in homecoming.

    It was a four hour hike from Beicheng to the Guan estate. Having missed the Guilin landscape viscerally and not knowing when she would next have this luxury, Mona walked. Time rewound by centuries, immersed in a land so hauntingly beautiful in its unexploited vulnerability. Too soon, and years late, she arrived at the road leading to the Rizhai township, which homed Guilinhe village and the Guan estate on its southern outskirts.

    On this road she stopped. It was a wide dirt path, the soil marked by wheels and steps, simple and gracious. The standalone archway to Rizhai stood proudly down the road, a wood and stone construct that was older than their era, reinforced through the centuries. Past it was the first village, the lush trees, the valley mountains in the background. The welcome of home.

    Breathing deeply, Mona walked on.

    By the time she reached the estate, it was mid-afternoon. The first to greet her were the children, finished with school and playing ball in the yard. So much bigger than she remembered them¡ªnearly unfamiliar. The oldest boy was the only one who recognized her, his eyes glittering as he dropped the ball.

    ¡°Auntie Mona!¡±

    She smiled at the boy. ¡°Look at you. I can barely recognize you. And the rest of you too! Is that Ruotian?¡±

    A prim girl weaving under the tree stood up and bowed her head. ¡°It¡¯s me, Auntie Mona.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve picked up manners too!¡±

    The girl blushed. Mona laughed. In her peripheral, a small figure dropped out of the plum tree¡ªa young girl with wild hair cropped at her jaw and a vivid fruit in her mouth, purple juice dripping down the corners. She took the fruit out of her mouth and said, ¡°You¡¯re really late.¡±

    ¡°And who¡¯s this little wildling?¡± said Mona, having a guess.

    The girl grinned. ¡°I¡¯m Lenglei.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± said a boy, appearing offended.

    The girl giggled.

    ¡°She¡¯s Wenbo,¡± said Ruotian.

    Mona¡¯s smile softened, watching the child tease the boy named Lenglei. Last Mona had seen the girl, she was a year old and without parents. Today her little spirit was practically brimming with light.

    ¡°You want a plum?¡± said Wenbo, fishing one out of her pocket and looking at Mona.

    Mona stretched out a hand. Wenbo tossed the plum. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°You gotta hide it though. Jin-Ge says I¡¯m supposed to leave the tree alone.¡±

    Mona laughed. ¡°Alright, kid. I¡¯ll hide it.¡± She pocketed the plum and lifted a hand to wave at the children. ¡°You kids have fun with your ball game. Save me a spot next time, okay?¡±

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± said Wenbo.

    Mona peeked over her shoulder. ¡°To check in with your big brother.¡±

    Wenbo made a face.

    ¡°You¡¯re really late,¡± she said, echoing her words from earlier. ¡°He left Guilin this morning.¡±

    ---

    The letter arrived at dinnertime, delivered to Ziyuan by a northtown guard who said an imperial courier had come in person. The envelope, a thick and refined parchment, carried the old, outdated emblem of the once-imperial Quan. Addressed to the First Lord of House Guan, it went sealed to Anjie¡¯s hands.

    The dining room was quiet while Anjie read the contents. Ziyuan, the three younger Guan siblings, and their aunt Baisun waited, only the ten year old Wenbo shifting in unsettled confusion. A soft hiccup from the child interrupted the silence.

    Ziyuan had been watching Anjie, whose characteristic calm belied a resigned grimness. At Wenbo¡¯s hiccup, Anjie glanced at her. To all but Ziyuan, that fade of his features to a warm resolve would have been imperceptible. Anjie¡¯s gaze lingered on his sister for a moment. When the moment was gone, he handed the paper from the envelope to Ziyuan, who scanned it while Anjie spoke.

    ¡°The Quan Empress is holding an inaugural dinner for her new empire,¡± he said. ¡°She invites me to attend.¡±

    ...and to discuss the future between our two sovereignties, the letter read.

    ¡°What? She can¡¯t actually expect you to go,¡± said Wenzhan.

    Ziyuan folded the paper and tucked it back inside the envelope. In their peripheral, Jinyue¡¯s sharp gaze followed their movement.

    ¡°When is it?¡± said Jinyue.

    ¡°In three days,¡± said Anjie.

    A pause.

    ¡°Ignore it,¡± said Wenzhan.

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± said Jinyue. ¡°When has House Guan ever involved ourselves with outside affairs? Quan Caihe knows this. It¡¯s not just an invitation to dinner, An-Ge. It has to be political.¡±

    Anjie didn¡¯t respond immediately. At the opposing head of the table, the mute aunt Baisun resumed eating, the porcelain clicks of her chopsticks accentuating the silence.

    ¡°Ah-Yue,¡± said Anjie eventually, ¡°I¡¯ll leave the household affairs to you for a time.¡±

    Wenzhan slapped the table and bolted upright. ¡°You can¡¯t go. At worst, it¡¯s a trap¡ª¡±

    ¡°And Guilin needs you here,¡± said Jinyue, nearly matching Wenzhan¡¯s rebellious tone. ¡°The First Guardian has never left the valley. If anything happens while you¡¯re not here¡ªif anything happens to you out there¡ª¡±

    Anjie frowned and opened his mouth. His brothers fell silent, but the words visibly boiled at their lips.

    ¡°It is not a trap,¡± he said. ¡°Only a first move.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play her game,¡± said Jinyue.

    Wenbo tugged at Ziyuan¡¯s sleeve. Whispered, ¡°What game?¡± Ziyuan smiled for the little girl and pressed a finger to their lips, indicating quiet.

    ¡°She can start the game,¡± said Anjie, ¡°but that does not make it hers.¡±

    ¡°Still¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Ah-Yue. The dinner table is not a place for arguments. We can talk about this later.¡±

    Later, Ziyuan gave the brothers their private space. In the adjacent tearoom, Ziyuan sat beneath the archway to the garden, their back to the solar room lights. While the strained, inaudible words underlaid the background, Ziyuan pulled the letter out of their shirt and unfolded it. Ziyuan traced the fine lettering, handwritten with rich ink.

    Quan Caihe. Her name had drifted into this household well before she had acquired the regency of Anzhou, from the lips of a man who saw too much and showed too little. But Ziyuan could not deny that they had admired the traitorous Jun Musheng¡ªfeared him, even. From the very beginning, Ziyuan had felt the dangerous viper beneath the soft charm, the demeanor of someone who was not afraid of anything, who elevated himself above everything. And even such a man had spoken about Quan Caihe with an apprehensive respect.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Guilin won¡¯t last forever, he had said. Nothing does.

    Ziyuan crumpled the letter in their hand and tightened their jaw. It was true that nothing in this world lasted forever. But so long as the Guan siblings called this home, Anjie would never let harm come to Guilin. And so long as Ziyuan lived, they would never let Anjie shoulder that conviction alone.

    At last the conversation of the brothers came to an end. The door opened and Jinyue and Wenzhan walked out, neither looking happy, but neither looking quite as fiery as they had been at the dinner table. They bade Ziyuan a good night and left.

    Anjie appeared next, pulling a ribbon out of his hair. The half-tie he had been wearing loosened, spilling over his shoulders. He scratched the back of his head, looking relieved as he sat down beside Ziyuan.

    ¡°How did you talk them down?¡± said Ziyuan.

    ¡°Well,¡± said Anjie, smiling, ¡°I am their older brother, no? I remember that you once tried to sell the lotus fairy to Lanlun and she avoided the ponds for years.¡±

    Ziyuan laughed. ¡°Fair. Should it worry me that you compare persuading your brothers to selling a fairytale?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing so ridiculous.¡±

    Ziyuan nodded, their laugh-spread grin fading to a half-smile. ¡°Just a little bit, then?¡±

    Anjie leaned back on his arms and hummed, gazing at the night garden. A soft affirmative.

    Of course, the coming risk was not so light that the younger Guan brothers would be tame if they understood the scope. In the past, no First Lord would have considered responding to this invitation¡ªat best it was not necessary, and at worst it was a sign of weakness to compromise their long-standing indifference on external affairs. Quan Caihe might not even be expecting Anjie to attend. But circumstances had changed since the Yulai invasion had cost them so many copper-eyed cranes. In particular, circumstances had changed since Anjie had ended the practice of their third tier modifications.

    The legends of the cranes were only legends because of their science. Inherited from old nobility, the techniques of their engineering exceeded the current modern capabilities by centuries. The warriors of House Guan underwent the first tier at birth, and most survived with a fine-tuned nervous system, a forceful immune system, and enhanced regeneration. They underwent the second tier at adolescence¡ªor if they had not been born with House Guan, like the Su family, they underwent a variant of these two tiers upon joining the household. Warriors like Wenzhan and Jinyue were endowed with daunting endurance and strength, lethal reaction time. But the third tier could only be performed on a fully matured body, which was then systematically recreated from the marrow to the flesh. A three month, torturous process that many did not survive.

    Ziyuan remembered vividly when Anjie had undergone the remaking. He went under first, three months before they began on his sister Liyun, because only one operation could be performed at a time. Liyun had insisted that Anjie go first because she hadn¡¯t wanted her brother to endure the wracking fear and uncertainty in that wait period. Anjie took another month to recover, and in that time, Liyun passed under the operation knife.

    Liyun was not the last person he¡¯d loved to die to their merciless duty. And for better or for worse, Anjie was not going to let the same thing happen to his little brothers and sister. But the difference between a crane with copper eyes and a crane with human eyes was simply incomparable, and their coppers were barely a quarter of the historical minimum. If Quan Caihe struck now, bottling Guilin¡¯s entry points with her full army, there would no doubt be a rupture somewhere that not even Anjie could dam.

    Anjie was trying to avoid an outright war, or at least preempt it. But Ziyuan could not say what waited in the new empire capital, or what came after.

    As if hearing Ziyuan¡¯s thoughts, Anjie said, ¡°Quan Caihe will not touch Guilin without a declaration and at least the illusion of a cause. Or at least this is what I believe. Her rise to power has been defined by this image of righteousness, and Guilin has been an autonomous legend for too long. So she will need a story for the public if she is to try to claim our land.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s easy to spin tales,¡± said Ziyuan.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Anjie, ¡°and easier if we appear at this celebration with words and actions for her to distort.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you going?¡±

    ¡°Because I believe she will find a way to spin that tale regardless. And this may be our best chance to persuade her otherwise.¡±

    Ziyuan blinked. ¡°Persuade? You don¡¯t mean negotiate?¡±

    ¡°That depends.¡± Anjie paused. His fingers drifted to the ends of his hair, perhaps unconsciously toying with the locks. ¡°Somebody once told me that men prefer to be governed rather than killed. That it¡¯s only pride that drives us to leave our children orphaned, when the wiser course is often to buy peace.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not thinking of letting her imperialize Guilin?¡±

    A silence, heavy.

    Anjie moved his hand away from his hair and smoothed the folds of his robes.

    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I could not betray our centuries of sacrifice like that.¡±

    Ziyuan narrowed their eyes. Despite the straight arch of Anjie¡¯s back, the final resolve in his tone, he had perhaps truly considered it for a moment.

    ¡°You¡¯re worried about Jinyue and Wenzhan,¡± said Ziyuan.

    Anjie looked at the black grass.

    Of course he would be worried. Jinyue and Wenzhan had been too young to participate in the fight against Yulai. But a war now meant they were expected to be at the front lines, and not even Anjie could protect them from that duty if he was to lead this house.

    ¡°I will do what needs to be done to protect the integrity of the valley, and my family. For now, it means making an appearance.¡± He paused. ¡°Quan Caihe is driven by ambition. But maybe she can be reasoned with.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re optimistic,¡± said Ziyuan, shaking their head.

    ¡°I have to be.¡± Anjie looked at Ziyuan. ¡°Come with me?¡±

    Ziyuan sighed. They put a hand over Anjie¡¯s, gripping it tight for a moment.

    ¡°I¡¯m with you anywhere. So don¡¯t get me killed, Anjie.¡±

    ---

    The day after next, Anjie fastened the synthetic buttons of a light collared shirt in a public bathroom, watching his new appearance in the wall mirror. They had left Guilin before dawn to avoid startling the province people, and seven hours later in the train station town, they had purchased appropriate modern attire for the trip. Prim black trousers, thin bodied shirt, light suit jacket. Simple belt, no holster. Their swords stayed home, too obtrusive and probably unnecessary. Quan Caihe was a proud new empress, after all¡ªAnjie doubted she would do anything overtly hostile while they were in her capital on her invitation.

    When he was done with his shirt, Anjie braided his hair and tucked it in a tight knot. A foreign man stared back from the mirror afterward, something from an odd dream. Behind Anjie, another man entering the bathroom glanced at this foreign reflection, glanced away, and did a double take. Anjie looked away from the mirror, hiding his strange copper eyes. He collected his robes and went to find Ziyuan.

    A challenge at first. Ziyuan was at the boarding platform, facing away from the bathrooms. Anjie picked them out by their neat, chin-length hair and their suitcase. Ziyuan seemed to sense his approach and turned as Anjie reached.

    ¡°Oh,¡± they said, glancing over Anjie. ¡°That¡¯s very odd.¡±

    Anjie smiled. ¡°Likewise.¡±

    Ziyuan stood up and peered more intently at Anjie, a frown drawing their brow. After a moment, Ziyuan hummed. They reached over and undid the top button of Anjie¡¯s shirt.

    ¡°It looked stuffy,¡± said Ziyuan.

    Now Anjie frowned.

    Ziyuan cocked their head leftward. ¡°The man over there wears it like this. It looks better.¡±

    ¡°Are we on a fashion tour now?¡±

    Ziyuan chuckled. ¡°Someone with a face and air like yours will stand out for the wrong reasons if he¡¯s not fashionable. I¡¯m sure we¡¯re already quite lacking in that department, so let¡¯s do what we can.¡±

    Anjie hesitated.

    ¡°Thank you, Ziyuan,¡± he said, not about the button.

    Ziyuan only smiled knowingly.

    They boarded the train a half-hour later. It was an hour¡¯s ride to the nearest metropolis, where they ate a meal and then switched to the advanced interregional bulletrail. The heavy holographic lights and masses of distinct people were nearly suffocating. But not so much because of the hectic, unfamiliar clutter.

    In Anjie¡¯s thirty three years, he had only left Guilin three times, and twice had been with Musheng. Once, the last time, they came all the way to this same metropolitan city. It would be a lie to say he did not remember that time like a ghost wound now.

    Foolish. It¡¯s been a decade.

    Still, he closed his eyes when they were secured in their private rail compartment. Moments later, he was asleep, restlessly.

    Late night, they arrived in the sprawling port city of Yincheng, capital of Anzhou. At this hour, Guilin would be silent and lightless but for the moon and the street lamps. By contrast, Yincheng appeared to be as awake as anything could be in daytime. Hardly a star was visible in the sky from the pollution of night lights, a vivid array of colors glittering off the glass and metal of towers. People undulated the landscape in fashion just as bright and varied, the dangle of a microchip earring here, the headband of a traditional weave there. Below the bridge overlooking a wide river hung familiar paper lanterns; below those, a row boat carried two apparent tourists with flashing midnight cameras.

    Anjie had seen images apart from his three trips beyond Guilin, but this immersion, ten years later, was still overwhelming. More went on in a single street of Yincheng than in an entire town of Guilin. Somehow, Anjie and Ziyuan made it through the onslaught. They checked in at a hotel for the night on the twelfth floor. Ziyuan had never been so high off the ground before, particularly in a place like this, and peered out the window in excitement. When they waved Anjie over, Anjie only shook his head and went to shower.

    The next day, September 24th, was the evening of the imperial celebration. Anjie and Ziyuan spent the day wandering the city, which was abuzz with chatter about the dining event and the attending nobility. The waiter who served their lunch gushed about the peace coming to the continent at last¡ªthe Second Era!¡ªand proclaimed that the empress to be celebrated tonight was an appointee of the heavens. This waiter seemed to have forgotten that most of the turmoil in the last half-century, at least for Anzhou, had been caused by Quan Caihe¡¯s relentless rise to power.

    ¡°It¡¯s fate,¡± said another woman that Ziyuan had struck up a conversation with. ¡°You only need to take one look at her to know it.¡±

    So, half past five, they made preparations to head over to the palace. Leaving the hotel entrance, a modestly-dressed woman approached them and bowed her head.

    ¡°Lord Guan, I presume?¡±

    A slick cold ran down Anjie¡¯s spine. He lifted an eyebrow calmly. ¡°And you?¡±

    The woman lowered her head further. ¡°Only an escort of the imperial court, my lord.¡±

    ¡°How did you find us?¡±

    The woman looked up and smiled. ¡°We are not as legendary as Guilin, but Yincheng has its own cleverness. Come this way, my lords. I will take you to the palace.¡±

    She led them to a modern black vehicle, which sped through the city with the soft background music of traditional zithers. Perhaps a deliberate choice. Anjie recognized the second piece, and the third. By the fourth, they pulled into the drive of a lush, gardened estate. No security guards¡ªmerely the occasional gate or automated monitor post, blinking as their vehicle passed. Aside from this, the modernized clutter of the city fell away to natural greens and a quiet peace, a sprawling pond. It was another five minutes before a traditional palace appeared in the distance.

    According to the cranes who lived beyond Guilin, this kind of thing was common. Royalty and nobility secluded their homes¡ªor at least one of them¡ªin the mimic of classical history. The modern luxuries of the city was but a quick drive away, after all, but beauty like the willow trees and speckled pond ducks must be sought or built. So it came as no surprise that the Yincheng palace reminded Anjie of the Guan estate, but several times more grandiose. Instead of cranes, this place was protected by giant stone lion guardians.

    Their vehicle was not the only one entering the walled palace courtyard. Ahead, a car stopped before wide stone steps to drop off its passengers¡ªthree garbed men and women, and a fourth driver. These four ascended the steps to the tall, red entry gates of the main building. The uniformed driver spoke with the gate guard. When their own vehicle parked and Anjie stepped out, that gate guard struck the ground with a heavy staff.

    ¡°Announcing the Lord and Ladies Jing, provincial regents of Dongchuan!¡±

    The three lords and ladies Jing entered beneath the towering archway. Through this archway drifted a stir of polite chatter, sweet aromas, and the poised accent of live classical music.

    ¡°This way, my lords,¡± said their escort-driver.

    In Anjie¡¯s peripheral, Ziyuan made a peeved face at the address. Anjie smiled at them, then smoothed the sleeves of his new suit. He followed their escort up the steps, surveying the building interior as the escort spoke to the guard. What appeared to be a massive gathering hall had been filled with gold-clothed tables for the meal, and nearly all of these tables were already seated. Light dining had begun, waiters ferrying carts of appetizers for the attendees.

    The invitation had said six o¡¯clock. Anjie had opted to skip the social mingling, and it was twenty minutes past the hour. A choice with a cost: now, a full audience was present to hear the staff strike the ground.

    ¡°Announcing the First Lord Guan, of the Guardian House of Guilin!¡±

    Ziyuan, unmentioned, made a noise in their throat. ¡°That is almost as terrible as being misgendered.¡±

    A comment to fill the sudden silence. The hush of what must have been at least a thousand people was heavy¡ªa thousand witnesses to the moment Anjie shattered House Guan¡¯s untouchable aura of lofty indifference. He thought of Wenbo crawling upright from the training room floor, a fierce light in her eyes as she said, one day.

    ¡°Welcome, my lord.¡± A new escort bowed. ¡°This way, please.¡±

    They followed the escort to the front end of this hall. In the struck silence, it felt like a very long walk. An empty table waited near the elevated dais, ringed by four empty seats. One for Anjie, another for Ziyuan. Perhaps Quan Caihe truly intended for a talk over this public dinner.

    Before they reached this table, a strange feeling swept Anjie¡¯s skin. Like wind, but the room was windless. He turned in its direction.

    There was another table by the front, seated by men and women bearing the Quan emblem. These men and women started at his glance¡ªand yet none of them seemed peculiar to Anjie. His gaze hovered on a single empty chair, pushed out awkwardly. A half-empty wineglass laid before it, the red liquid still trembling.

    Anjie looked around. There was only the rich imperial decor and the overbearing attention.

    ¡°What is it?¡± said Ziyuan.

    Anjie shook his head. In his peripheral, the appetizer cart rolled toward their waiting seats. ¡°Let¡¯s have something to eat. I imagine the main course will be quite difficult to swallow.¡±

 Part II: The Greed of Dynasty | 8

    For the propriety of status, Quan Caihe kept to her private gardens until all the guests had arrived. A messenger informed her of this; with two guards at her back, she made her way toward the great palace hall where the dinner was to take place. She was not one for grand gestures¡ªthe excess of pomp, she believed, was an indicator of insecurities¡ªbut she respected the formalities that must take place for a woman to enforce her status. So the inaugural event for the noble houses was only a simple meal, which would be preceded by a simple speech. From the port of Yincheng to the far west plateaus of Mosanguo, the nobility of the continent would bear witness to her dynastic rebirth in all its unembellished elegance.

    Her heart sped beneath the golden dragon of her emblemed robes. These coming moments would be written into history as the second rising of her family name. To have absolute control over the script of that history¡ªit was as intoxicating as the strongest liquor. The thrill laced her nerves. Absorbed her thoughts, revising for the thousandth time the words that would come from her lips tonight.

    She almost didn¡¯t notice the shadow at the end of the open walkway.

    ¡°General Jun?¡±

    The man was leaning against the corridor rail. Not quite facing the open gardens¡ªhis head hung in his hands, his body hunched. A rare sight, and oddly stirring.

    Jun Musheng righted himself at her voice. He lowered his head. ¡°Your Grace.¡±

    Caihe gestured for her guards to wait. Alone, she approached her general in the dim-lit walkway.

    ¡°What brings you out here, General?¡±

    She had a faint idea.

    Musheng slipped his hands into his pockets. ¡°I needed to breathe, Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°Well, are you finished breathing? You have an appearance to make tonight.¡±

    ¡°It might be wiser if I didn¡¯t. I¡¯m not feeling very well, and I would hate to¡ª¡±

    Irritated, Caihe stepped into his intimate space. She could smell the wine and sweat, and a sweet heat like a fever. She slid a hand beneath his jacket, over his heart. The pulse was still thunderous.

    She murmured, ¡°That frightening, is he?¡±

    Musheng turned his face away. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Your Grace.¡±

    Her fingers curled around fabric. She pulled him forcefully down until she could speak over his lips.

    ¡°Why have you anything to be afraid of, Jun Musheng? You are in my court. You stand behind me now. You survived him when you were alone, Musheng. And now that you are not, it¡¯s he who must try to survive you.¡±

    When Musheng did not respond, Caihe narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°Unless it isn¡¯t fear.¡±

    He shook his head, a smooth motion. ¡°Your Grace, you¡¯ll be meeting him for the first time tonight. But I was with him for six years. You can¡¯t simplify what I feel to a word.¡±

    Caihe released the general. ¡°So it isn¡¯t fear?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing pleasant,¡± said Musheng. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be near him.¡±

    She sighed and crossed her arms. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s impossible. You¡¯re a part of the game, Musheng. You can¡¯t expect me to play with a missing piece¡ªa general, no less.¡±

    ¡°Your general might cost you more¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough. Compose yourself, Quan Musheng. You enter the hall with me.¡±

    She turned around before he could protest again. After a pause, his footsteps followed.

    Upon reaching the great hall, the guard declared her entrance with three forceful strikes of his staff.

    ¡°Announcing the Imperial Quan Caihe, Regent of the New Empire!¡±

    The audience fell hush. Caihe entered from the dais end, her eyes sweeping the hall graciously. A thousand carefully selected nobles were in attendance tonight, their faces accentuated by the atmospheric lights. She maintained a tactful assessment, giving the higher ranked tables their due of her eyeshare. But it was that one by the front which lured her burning curiosity.

    No images existed of the guardians of Guilin. Only spoken legends of ghosts, gods, and the great Red Crane.

    He was easy to distinguish from the two at the table. Both of them were poised, suited, wearing no trace of excessive age on deeply matured faces. But he possessed an air, the iron-glass air that came with being deified. Iron because it was daunting¡ªglass because it was fragile, as all inhuman expectations were when they were laid upon humans. And Quan Caihe believed that no matter what science, the man who gazed back at her with was human.

    His metallic eyes lidded softly. For a man¡ªno, for a human¡ªhe was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that rugged artists would dream to lay onto their parchment.

    Perhaps, she thought suddenly, it wasn¡¯t fear at all.

    Caihe glanced back at Musheng. That man had entered the hall with her, as instructed. His singular eye met hers briefly before he went to retake his seat with the other generals. He did not look leftward where the Guilin guardians sat.

    Caihe turned back at the Lord Guan, who was no longer looking at her. She would have liked to dissect that expression, but she had reached the center of this dais, and an audience waited. A dynasty did.

    Spreading her arms, the new empress said, ¡°Welcome, my lords and ladies, to the Imperial Capital.¡±

    <hr>

    They had pierced Anjie¡¯s lungs before with hooked steel, and it had felt something like this.

    The speech of the empress did not reach his ears, smothered by the drumming of his heart. This was a curious condition¡ªthat he, looking upon the face of Jun Musheng, still retained a heart to beat. Had this man not ripped it out, left a gaping hole in its place nine years ago? Was he not finished torturing Anjie? Why was he here?

    But he was here. He was here, that same bold profile, the rough stubble and wild hair, the calluses along his fingers, the little crook in his nose. The hollow in his eye, old now and dry. The white scar tissue dragged along the left side of his face, a ghostly horror. Anjie felt so much pain in his chest that his vision flickered.

    Ziyuan touched his arm. Anjie pulled away. He forced his eyes to Quan Caihe.

    But nothing about the woman processed. Nothing when she looked his way and said the honored attendance. Nothing when she named her generals, declared the new regents of Beiguo and Xijia.

    Nothing, until she gestured toward Musheng.

    ¡°...and it could not have been possible without this man. Arise, Quan Musheng.¡±

    Anjie looked at the dais floor.

    ¡°You came to me five years ago and gave me your unreserved faith. Your dedication has been matchless, and your skill deserves the highest recognition. Quan Musheng,  it is with honor that I hereby name you the Third Quan Imperial Chief.¡±

    Your unreserved faith.

    Anjie lifted his eyes. He looked at Musheng. Quan Musheng. The Quans scripted their family title with the traditional character for power. Truly a fitting name for a man whose heart had always been coated with ambition. Ziyuan had warned him of it, and Anjie had believed the two of them had changed, together. Believed those sweet promises murmured between the kisses. How wrong he had been. This man finally stood atop the peak, an imperial chief, and aloof, he gazed down at Anjie. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    But not merely Anjie¡ªGuan Anjie. He shared that name with precious others.

    Jinyue. Wenzhan. Wenbo.

    Be well, First Guardian.

    Anjie lifted his chin. He lifted his hands and clapped with the rest of the hall.

    Musheng looked away.

    The empress resumed her speech. Her new chief took his seat. Anjie picked up the wineglass on the table and sipped. He did not feel the liquid in his throat, but he did not feel any tremble in his fingers either. It was a decent compromise.

    Quan Caihe declared upon the end of her speech that the coming meal was to be the forge of new friendships. She had invited houses from across the continent, and it was a hall of tamed enemies. Friendship was an appropriate sentiment to close on. An ironic sentiment when she came to sit across from Anjie. With a peripheral gesture of her fingers, a shadow followed her beckon. Musheng.

    Because Anjie took deliberate care to see only the empress, he noted that the rumors of the city were well-founded. She carried herself in the manner of a born ruler, and her eyes belied sharpness and clarity not unlike that of her new imperial chief. Anjie had expected as much, that her drive and her confidence would make any peace difficult to bargain. But he had come to the capital believing he had a chance. Now, with Musheng among her court, this hope was dashed away.

    Musheng, who knew the secrets of Guilin. Musheng who had been invited to sit with them like old friends, who had surely informed Quan Caihe of his past connection to the valley. With his knowledge, Quan Caihe would believe herself infallible. And perhaps she truly was, for House Guan had barely survived the weaker Yulai.

    Musheng took the seat to Anjie¡¯s left. The cologned scent of the city, so foreign, threaded through a soft, familiar musk. Odd that smell could dredge up this feeling of betrayal.

    ¡°My lord Guan,¡± said Quan Caihe, addressing Anjie first. ¡°And¡­¡±

    ¡°You may address me as Guardian, Your Grace,¡± said Ziyuan. Their tone was tenser than usual, but that tension was not all for the empress.

    ¡°I must admit, I¡¯m quite surprised you came.¡±

    No ease of it, then. Anjie¡¯s appearance would be interpreted as weakness. A compromise he had been willing to make, but with circumstances as they were, he could no longer afford to appear weak. But how was he to remedy this? How was he to protect his sword-bound younger brothers against this situation?

    Anjie lifted an eyebrow and spoke.

    ¡°And I am quite surprised you dine with us. For the new regent of an empire, it would seem quite declarative to spend your inaugural with a foreign lord.¡±

    The dining carts rolled up. A manservant bowed and laid out the dishes around a flowered vase, silent so as to not interrupt Caihe¡¯s response.

    ¡°Well, House Guan is deserving of such honor, no? I do believe the masses will be talking just as much of your appearance as they will be talking of my inaugural. And at least this allows us to keep the conversation cordial and brief. But first¡ªI believe you¡¯ve met my new chief?¡±

    Anjie looked at Musheng. Said simply, ¡°You believe correctly.¡±

    A loose smile entered Musheng¡¯s expression. It seemed tentative at first, but perhaps that had merely been Anjie¡¯s imagination: once the curve settled, the entire posture of this man¡¯s body relaxed, his core now as hard to grasp as the wind itself.

    ¡°Old faces, new fortunes,¡± said Musheng.

    Anjie looked at Caihe. ¡°You want a cordial and brief conversation. I will oblige, but let us tend toward the latter. State your piece and I will state mine.¡±

    ¡°My piece? Lord Guan, I believe you are mistaken. I merely wished to invite you to dinner. And, of course, to settle some old debts.¡±

    Anjie paused. ¡°Old debts?¡±

    ¡°An important man of my household has been aggrieved by House Guan.¡± She plucked a meat roll from the central platter on the table. ¡°He lost an eye. I want to give him justice.¡±

    For a moment, the only sound from their table was the crunching between the empress¡¯s teeth. Then Anjie lifted the cutting knife by his plate. The crunching stopped. The others froze.

    ¡°Justice?¡±

    He wiped the knife on his napkin. The blade glistened with his reflection, his heartache, his fury, his duty, and his turbulent desperation to protect his family. Persuade Quan Caihe? It was not possible if she believed she had no need to compromise. He knew exactly where this line of conversation led, and he had long lost interest in the politics of step-by-step.

    He stood up. The crowd stirred.

    With a breath, a quick calculation, and a steeling, he plunged the knife into his left eye socket. Flicked, carving with a twist. Before there was a full reaction from anybody, before his own body could truly process the damage, Anjie stabbed the knife before Musheng¡¯s plate. His copper eye trembled with loose flesh, speared on the gored blade.

    Anjie looked at Caihe with his one eye. He did not allow himself to react to the searing pain, nor to see the reaction of that figure in his blindspot. By only will and the thought of his Guilin dinner table, he kept his voice steady.

    ¡°Regent,¡± he said as the room hissed, ¡°if it¡¯s an eye you want, he has it. Do not think we fear the paltry losses of men. If it is justice you want, line up his family and burn up their hearts. But we both know you care for neither. So let us get to the point. If it is Guilin you want, dig up the mountains and make graves for your army.¡±

    He leaned over the table, gripping the flower vase at its center. The blood from his eye socket poured out, splattering the petals, the meal, the fine golden cloth.

    ¡°I did not give the men of Yulai this warning because they did not have the courtesy to invite me to dinner. As a gesture of gratitude for this fine meal, know this: if you touch my land, I will kill every last soldier who bears the Quan emblem. Your golden dragon shall be red from Yincheng to Mosanguo.¡±

    The empress¡¯s hands flickered over the dragon on her chest.

    Anjie turned to Ziyuan, who was already rising.

    He turned back to the empress. ¡°Enjoy your dinner, Your Grace. And may the heavens bless your rule.¡±

    Without a look for the silent Musheng, Anjie made his exit from the imperial palace. Not a soul dared to stand in his way.

    <hr>

    The crane left, but the blood stayed.

    Hours later, Caihe placed her hand over her heart, over the golden emblem of the Quan.

    It was late night. That dinner had concluded, the horrific disruption a whisper for the masses come morning. Caihe stood on a garden pavilion of her palace, hoisted over a pond of autumn lotus blossoms. Her only company were her silent guards and the man she had ordered to keep her company. She¡¯d taken his gifted eye, of course, sent it to their scientists to deconstruct. That copper was a rare thing to land indeed.

    The newly named Quan Musheng did not seem happy about it. Of course, if it was revenge he desired, he would naturally lust for a more brutal taking¡ªscreams, a gasp, a tremor¡ªany hint of pain at all. But the Lord Guan had removed his eye on his own terms, appearing as if he had merely severed a lock of hair.

    Terrifying.

    ¡°I imagine he¡¯s not permanently maimed,¡± said Caihe.

    Behind, Musheng stirred. He leaned his back against the pavilion pillar, a lax posture. For a while his signature smile had eluded him, but it was back now, crooked and easy. ¡°No. His body is not like ours.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Caihe turned to better see her chief. ¡°And just how well do you know his body?¡±

    Musheng scratched the side of his jaw. ¡°As well as I needed to to get the job done.¡±

    ¡°So professional,¡± said Caihe, walking to his side. She slid her hand along his arm, sank it down over his chest. A steady pulse. ¡°You miss it?¡±

    Musheng shifted. Caihe couldn¡¯t quite tell if his heart rate picked up or not. But it didn¡¯t matter¡ªhis words surprised her enough that she dropped her hand.

    ¡°I suppose.¡±

    Caihe lifted an eyebrow.

    Musheng cocked his head, his lips curving slightly once more. ¡°You did promise me you would bring him to my feet and let me do whatever I wanted, Your Grace. Is it a problem now?¡±

    She stared. Then chuckled.

    ¡°I see. I didn¡¯t take you for that kind of man, Musheng.¡±

    ¡°We all have our own skeletons.¡±

    ¡°Some more disturbing than others.¡±

    Musheng shrugged. ¡°He frightens me. It¡¯s true. And I was on the beaten end of our history. But, Your Grace, if a man ever conquered you like that, wouldn¡¯t you want to break him properly too? I don¡¯t find it disturbing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d want to break him, not fuck him. But to each their own.¡± She filed away these thoughts for later and returned to the pavilion balustrade once more, gazing over the night pond. ¡°We may have to exercise patience, however.¡±

    It was the trick with the eye, stirring up old doubts. Guilin had been named the Ghost Forest because of their cranes¡ªback then, in the first Quan invasion three and half centuries ago, those defending warriors simply would not die. Again and again, the legend went, they would return to life like the vicious undead.

    ¡°How do you kill a crane, Musheng?¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°You cut off their head,¡± he said. ¡°Which can be quite difficult, since their spine is encased in a titanium variant.¡±

    ¡°I had a feeling,¡± she said. ¡°A man does not cut out his own eye to make light threats. If we invade Guilin, the Lord Guan would have to die in the first battle. If he survives even one, I imagine he will come to me. Much like how one kills a crane, you kill a new empire by severing its head. And it¡¯s true, Musheng, that we have no men in our ranks who can face him?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± said Caihe.

    ¡°Very well?¡±

    ¡°Guilin will have its peace yet.¡±

    Musheng shifted off the pillar. ¡°You mean¡­¡±

    How curious. He didn¡¯t nearly sound damned enough to have vengeance stolen. Caihe smiled regardless, moving to pat the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t fret, Musheng. You¡¯ll have what I promised you.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°What are you planning?¡±

    She arched an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°You tell me, Chief Quan. You know him, no?¡±

    He didn¡¯t say anything, so Caihe continued.

    ¡°The Lord Guan is afraid of a war,¡± she said. ¡°In fact, one might even say that he¡¯s desperately afraid. A man does not cut out his own eye to make light threats, and a man does not cut out his own eye to make unnecessary ones. He may be formidable, but there are people in Guilin who are not. So let us see just how far he is willing to go to protect them.¡±

    She smiled, recalling the vivid blood of the crane pour onto the dinner table. Lush, beautiful, luring a thrill within her chest that her palm could barely contain.

    ¡°An eye is lovely. But perhaps next time, he will be amenable to giving us his head instead.¡±

 Part II: The Greed of Dynasty | 9

    In the private compartment of the bulletrail, Ziyuan wrung the wet crimson from a torn cloth. It was nearly midnight, the landscape pitch outside, having passed the life of the cities. Only the moon could be spotted beyond the window, a lonely, halved circle in the sky.

    Ziyuan sat beside Anjie on the lower bunk bed, their water bowl vibrating gently atop a pull-out table. The liquid refracted the soft lights of their strange room. What should have been a mellow orange was hued red, a thick dilution of blood that was beginning to thicken. The bleeding should have stopped long ago, but still it continued to saturate the air.

    Ziyuan could not bear it. An uncommon condition: Ziyuan was not a sentimental person and could tolerate a great many things. With Anjie, who was far stronger than they were, the need to fret rarely presented itself. But tonight a spell had been cast, and it felt as if the invulnerable First Guardian was only a withered leaf of the new season.

    At last Ziyuan swallowed and said, ¡°Did it have to be your eye?¡±

    No response.

    Ziyuan patted the torn flesh. The skin was healing already. The socket still gaped. Seeing it was suffocating¡ªbrought back the lifeless horror Ziyuan had felt when the blade speared into Anjie¡¯s eye. How many cranes had Ziyuan seen die in that same manner?

    Too many to count. A blade through the vulnerable openings of the skull, a direct tearing of their organic brains, was the only way in which a crane might be killed on the battlefield. The Yulai soldiers took Ziyuan¡¯s father with a spear through the right eye. They took Ziyuan¡¯s sister with a bullet through the left.

    ¡°If you had miscalculated, Anjie¡­¡±

    ¡°They asked for an eye,¡± said Anjie.

    His voice came out dry. Torn along the edges, as if he had screamed for hours. But he had been silent ever since leaving the palace.

    Ziyuan shook their head. ¡°They didn¡¯t. She did. He¡­¡± Ziyuan paused, rethinking what they were about to say. No, it wouldn¡¯t do any good for Anjie to hear it.

    But too late, Ziyuan watched a red drop slide down the Lord Guan¡¯s cheek. This drop did not have the viscosity of blood.

    Ziyuan hesitated.

    To press that tear away? To leave it? Would Anjie resent his weakness, no matter how momentary, how private? He was the First Lord after all, and he had always taken such care to uphold that image.

    But no. It was not fair to leave him upon his pedestal in moments like this.

    Ziyuan set the cloth aside. Slid their arms over Anjie¡¯s shoulder and pulled him into an embrace.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault,¡± said Ziyuan.

    Anjie was silent. After a moment, he lowered his head to Ziyuan¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I do not understand,¡± he whispered. ¡°How can he still do this to me?¡±

    ¡°Your heart is only human, Anjie.¡±

    Fingers curled against Ziyuan¡¯s sides, like a child grasping for comfort.

    ¡°When I saw that scar on his face, all I could think about was...was¡­¡±

    A hitch. Another. And then the compartment was quiet, thrumming with only the mechanical lull of the engines. It was like this for a long while.

    At last Anjie pulled away and wiped his face with his sleeve. The left half was soaked red again. Holding his back straight, he said, ¡°I am not sure if the message was sufficient for the new empress. We will need to make preparations when we return to Guilin.¡±

    ¡°You made it audible¡ªred from Yincheng to Mosanguo. If Quan Caihe makes a move, she will have to deal with the apprehension of a whole empire.¡±

    ¡°That may buy us time,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps not indefinitely.¡±

    Ziyuan handed over a roll of gauze they had picked up at the night market.

    ¡°What will you do?¡±

    ¡°The same thing we did for the last battle with Yulai, if it comes to it.¡±

    Ziyuan frowned. ¡°Anjie¡­¡±

    ¡°Only if it comes to it.¡± Anjie glanced sideways at Ziyuan with a single eye. By the end of the week, it would be two again. ¡°I do not know if Quan Caihe will heed my warning. But I do keep my promises.¡±

    <hr>

    It was a week before Anjie returned to the estate.

    The house received a message that light matters were occupying the two guardians beyond Guilin. Without details, the innocuous words seemed ominous¡ªand then Sanhai had left to meet them in the exterior town of Duling, saying nothing about why the two needed her escort. Wenzhan paced the outer gardens the whole afternoon, frantic, untameable, until he finally saw his brother appear on the dirt path.

    He took two steps forward. Before the third, a small shadow dropped off the edge of the estate wall and bolted past him. A smile broke on Anjie¡¯s beautiful face as he caught a distraught little girl.

    ¡°An-Ge! An-Ge! Y-you were gone s-so long!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry, Ah-Bo. I did not like it either.¡±

    Little Wenbo gripped Anjie¡¯s kneeling form and continued to sob.

    Wenzhan finally made it over, sauntering at a hard-controlled pace. Anjie saw him and smiled a different smile, a little more apologetic. His heart skipped a beat at those soft copper eyes.

    ¡°Ah-Zhan.¡±

    ¡°An-Ge.¡±

    What kept you so long?

    ¡°No greeting for me, boy?¡±

    Wenzhan glanced at Ziyuan and scratched his head. ¡°Hey, Da-Yuan.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± Ziyuan held out a bag. ¡°Go carry these inside for the children.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡± said Wenzhan, taking the bag.

    ¡°Treats.¡±

    Little Wenbo finally stopped sniffling and eyed the bag.

    ¡°Go on,¡± Anjie said to his sister. ¡°Have your pick first.¡±

    She rubbed her running nose. After a moment of what looked like difficult deliberation, she shook her head and latched back onto Anjie. Her words muffled in his robes. ¡°Don¡¯t wanna.¡±

    Anjie laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll be here, Ah-Bo. The treats won¡¯t.¡±

    Wenbo still refused. Wenzhan would have too, but he didn¡¯t have the excuse of youth to keep him clinging to Anjie¡¯s side. It seemed shameful to do so when Jinyue, occupied with overseeing the household affairs, had not even been spared the time to greet their elder brother. Impatiently, Wenzhan waited for dinner to press his questions¡ªto have his time with Anjie, whom he so viscerally missed.

    But dinner didn¡¯t happen that night. Instead, Anjie called a full house meeting in the central hall that lasted for several hours. Only the children were exempt. Sitting between the western pillars alongside Jinyue, Aunt Baisun, Sanhai, and the recently returned Liutian, Wenzhan listened in silence as the house made preparations for an imperial invasion.

    ¡°It¡¯s not certain,¡± said Anjie, ¡°but we must be ready.¡±

    The next afternoon, Wenzhan found Anjie in his training room, sparring with Ziyuan. He was hesitant to interrupt their extraordinary dance, but both of his elders noticed his lingering shadow within seconds. Ziyuan arched their eyebrow, eyed Wenzhan¡¯s rare training clothes, shrugged, and left. Anjie hesitated.

    ¡°I¡¯ve not seen you come here in months,¡± said his brother.

    Wenzhan slid off his shoes and walked closer. Not too close. ¡°I...I don¡¯t want to be a burden.¡±

    I don¡¯t want to see you soaked in blood.

    It seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Anjie¡¯s lips trembled before he turned away. ¡°No, Ah-Zhan¡­¡±

    Wenzhan took another step closer.

    ¡°Will you help me train?¡±

    After a moment, his brother¡¯s uncertainty evaporated to a smile. ¡°Of course.¡±

    It had been a while since Wenzhan held a sword against Anjie. The warriors of House Guan practiced this fluid, weaponized martial art because their battles mandated swift kills¡ªone after the other, relentlessly, until their small numbers overwhelmed armies. For Anjie, who possessed the engineered muscle propulsion and reduced cellular weight to sweep crowds, Wenzhan¡¯s heavier motions must seem viscous. But Anjie made no mockery of it, interspersing their practice with the occasional praise or constructive comment.

    Clean strike. Too far left. Overextending¡ªwatch your arm. Good, clean pivot. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    It was all so contained that every word, every syllable lacerated his lungs.

    At last, parried hard for the hundredth time, Wenzhan dropped his wooden sword.

    Anjie frowned. ¡°Ah-Zhan?¡±

    Not a bead of sweat on his brother¡¯s skin. By contrast, Wenzhan¡¯s chest was heaving, pained, soaked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not good enough.¡±

    ¡°That is not¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not good enough to protect you.¡±

    He hadn¡¯t meant to say it like that. The words had just come out, rasped.

    For a moment, Anjie appeared confused. Then he lowered his sword and stepped toward Wenzhan, reaching for his shoulders. ¡°Oh, Ah-Zhan. You don¡¯t need to worry about me.¡±

    ¡°But I do,¡± whispered Wenzhan. ¡°When I have nightmares about¡ªabout that, you¡¯re always alone. Always.¡±

    Anjie pulled him close. Wenzhan shut his eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m never alone,¡± said Anjie. ¡°I have Ziyuan, Sanhai, Aunt Baisun. I have the cranes. And whether you are beside me or not, I have you and your brother and sister.¡±

    ¡°Make me a crane.¡±

    Anjie pulled away.

    ¡°A crane like you,¡± said Wenzhan.

    A frown flickered across his brother¡¯s brow. ¡°I can¡¯t do that, Ah-Zhan.¡±

    ¡°Why not? I want it. I¡¯m ready for the risks. We need it now, more than ever. The new empire is four times the size of Yulai¡ª¡±

    Anjie shook his head.

    ¡°No, Ah-Zhan. I can¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Why not? We¡¯ve always done it¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because¡ª¡±

    Anjie hesitated. He looked so vulnerable as his eyes searched for words, as his lips held half-parted, the delicate curves soft and moist. The afternoon sunlight painted the long, slender shadows of his lashes over his fine cheeks. Wenzhan¡¯s pulse picked up, thundering his skull dizzy.

    Then Anjie looked at his brother and said, ¡°Because I can¡¯t lose you. Because I love you.¡±

    How many times had Wenzhan dreamed of hearing those three words, from those lips, like this? Of feeling them brush his skin at their proximity, touch his bones at their sincerity? They curled around his lungs, suffocated him. No oxygen to his mind.

    He grabbed Anjie¡¯s face and kissed him.

    For one moment, one beautiful moment, all he knew was the sweet, tinged warmth of those lips.

    And then Anjie jolted back.

    They looked at each other. His brother wore an unguarded shock, confusion.

    ¡°I...Ah-Zhan¡­¡±

    Wenzhan turned around and ran.

    He ran beyond the estate, past the fields, out of Guilinhe village. When he could feel neither the bile in his lungs nor his lungs anymore, he still kept running. If he stopped, he might scream down the valley mountains, and he was so afraid that Anjie would hear him and find him and look at him again.

    Somehow, he ended up in front of a familiar apartment. The door opened.

    Suzha stared at him. ¡°Wenzhan?¡±

    Wenzhan stared at her.

    ¡°I kissed him,¡± he said.

    Help me.

    Suzha didn¡¯t ask who. She only swept her gaze over his exhausted body and pulled him inside. She pushed him toward the cheap, beaten couch, where he slumped and cradled his head. A few moments later, the tea table thumped with a bottle. A cork popped.

    ¡°Here. Drink.¡±

    Wenzhan took the liquor. He poured it down his throat. Suzha had to tear the bottle away from him.

    ¡°Hey¡ªyou idiot boy, that isn¡¯t what I meant. You trying to kill yourself?¡±

    He dropped his head in his hands again. ¡°I kissed him,¡± he said again.

    ¡°Who? Your big brother?¡±

    Wenzhan looked up, briefly shocked out of his misery. ¡°You knew?¡±

    ¡°Anjie, right?¡± Suzha downed a quick gulp. ¡°You say his name in your sleep.¡±

    A silence.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± muttered Wenzhan. ¡°What the fuck?¡±

    Suzha handed him the bottle again. ¡°Drink. Slower this time, or the rest is mine.¡±

    Wenzhan drank.

    A long time later, perhaps hours later, he found himself sprawled naked on a bed, an utter mess beneath the yellow night lights and cracked ceiling. Fingers stroked his head like he was a wounded dog. And why not? It seemed like he had the proclivities of one. As if it wasn¡¯t enough to dream of his brother¡ªto say his name, and Wenzhan shuddered to think in what voice¡ªhe had dared to kiss those lips. To sully him with this wretched longing.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t,¡± he slurred. ¡°Bed¡¯ll dirty.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± A pause. ¡°Oh. Bit too late for that.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think...think I¡¯m disgusting?¡±

    A sigh. ¡°You were out of sorts the day I met you, Wenzhan. A bit like you were stuck in a tragic novel.¡± The fingers threading his hair paused. They drifted to his cheek, tracing dried tracks. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s why I picked you.¡±

    Wenzhan tried to look up. ¡°What?¡±

    Suzha pat his cheek. ¡°Nothing, handsome. Let¡¯s get you home, shall we?¡±

    ¡°N-no¡­¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Your brother will worry if you¡¯re not back tonight. And I don¡¯t want him barging into my place.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t see him. Can¡¯t.¡±

    Suzha slipped off the bed and began to hoist Wenzhan upright. ¡°We¡¯ll sneak around. Come on, Wen-Gege, don¡¯t be a baby¡­¡±

    Wenzhan was not coherent enough to resist. He barely processed their hitched ride and slow stumble into the Guan estate. The familiar plum and begonia scent enveloped him with an instinctive comfort and an swallowing guilt. Vaguely, he pointed Suzha toward the side entrance, toward the private chambers. A pair of soft footsteps interrupted their navigation, as intimately familiar through the haze as his own name.

    ¡°Ah-Zhan?¡±

    Wenzhan clutched at Suzha¡¯s sleeves, panicking. ¡°No. No, not him.¡±

    The footsteps came closer, stopping before the two of them. Wenzhan saw white robes in his vision, a slender hand in his peripheral.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me,¡± he whispered. ¡°Please don¡¯t look at me.¡±

    A pause.

    In a strange, cold voice that Wenzhan did not recognize, Anjie said, ¡°Bring him this way.¡±

    Like a brutal slap, the chilled distance of those words jolted him out of his drunken stupor. Wenzhan glanced up at his brother, who truly did not look at him. That untouchable elegance seemed oceans away now, further than it had ever been before. His heart felt suddenly broken.

    What have I lost? What did I ruin?

    They set him in his room. No¡ªnot, they. Suzha did. Anjie didn¡¯t touch him.

    ¡°See you later, Wen-Gege,¡± murmured Suzha.

    Undone, Wenzhan only laid limp on his bed, unmoving as the footsteps retreated and the door slid shut.

    <hr>

    The wooden door was smooth beneath her fingertips, a stasis for her rapid pulse.

    Like winter, the gaze on the back of her neck filled the dim-lit corridor. Suzha breathed. Pulled on a smile, as ever she did on this mask, and turned around.

    ¡°Sorry, Master Guan, I¡ª¡±

    The blade was at her throat before she heard the swish. The words drained out of her lungs.

    Past the glinting metal were the fierce metallic eyes of the First Lord Guan. This was but the second time she had seen him, but like instinct, Suzha knew that the burning quality was not often found on the face of the man who had appeared so gentle before the Guilin people, who held Wenzhan¡¯s heart at his nails. It was terrifying to behold: in a glance, Suzha could imagine the white of his robes blood-soaked, his loose silken hair wet in strings of gore. The brutal tales she had grown up hearing at night echoed against her skull.

    The Lord Guan spoke first.

    ¡°How bold of you to cross my land with the face of Yu Ling.¡±

    Her father¡¯s name ghosted her skin like a death sentence. Was this it? How she would end? A dream of retribution snuffed out like it was never anything to begin with. With all the nerve she had left, she bared her teeth. Spoke quietly, so the words wouldn¡¯t reach Wenzhan.

    Why did she think of that foolish third brother in this moment anyway?

    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I be bold?¡± said Suzha. ¡°You slaughtered my family. I have nothing left to lose.¡±

    ¡°Do you imagine that makes you invincible?¡±

    The Lord Guan took a step closer. The blade point stung. Wet liquid dripped down her throat.

    ¡°I have a great many things to lose,¡± murmured the First Guardian. ¡°Would you like to test the scale?¡±

    ¡°Go on,¡± said Suzha, false bravado. ¡°Kill me. It¡¯s the only thing you¡¯ve ever done to outsiders.¡±

    ¡°It very well should be.¡±

    A silence hung between them. At last the Lord Guan removed his blade and stepped back. He gazed down at her like a frigid mountain eagle, and she was but a crippled rat unfit for dining.

    ¡°Our conflict with Yulai concluded nine years ago. I will let it be done, Lady Yu. But the boy you touched tonight is more precious to me than life. So if I see your face again¡ªif he sees your face again¡ªI will be taking your life. Do I make myself clear?¡±

    Suzha took a step back. Without another word, she fled the Guan estate.

    <hr>

    In the morning, Wenzhan remembered pieces. Mostly, Anjie¡¯s cold voice.

    He collected some things and wandered out of the estate before dawn, wanting to wash the grime of his desires in a place less sacred. In the front courtyard, a small voice stopped him.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    Wenzhan looked toward the plum tree. Little Wenbo was sliding down the trunk. She had kept her distance from him since declaring that she hated him last month, but two weeks ago, she had begun speaking to him again. Not kindly, not warmly, and not frequently¡ªthe forgiveness came slow, and this was only her fourth question for Wenzhan since that time.

    He wished he could give it its proper due. Instead: ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk.¡±

    Wenbo pointed at his bag. ¡°With that?¡±

    He frowned. ¡°What are you doing? The sun¡¯s not even up.¡±

    Wenbo fished out some freshly-picked plums from her pocket. ¡°I¡¯m getting breakfast for An-Ge.¡±

    Anjie. The mention of him made it difficult to breathe.

    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m going to the shrine,¡± said Wenzhan.

    ¡°In Rizhai?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡±

    ¡°Where? Why are you going to a shrine?¡±

    ¡°I just want to visit.¡±

    Some old memories. Old gods, immortal foxes and their curses.

    Wenbo kept frowning.

    Wenzhan tried to smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a few days, okay? See you, Bobo.¡±

    He was halfway out the courtyard before she called to him again.

    ¡°Did you eat breakfast?¡±

    He looked over his shoulder. Wenbo picked out a plum and tossed it to him. He caught a small, hard lump¡ªspeckled yellow, still half-ripe.

    ¡°I can¡¯t find the ones you get,¡± she said. ¡°They don¡¯t grow on the tree.¡±

    This time, Wenzhan did not have to try so hard to smile. ¡°Because you pick them too early, Bobo.¡±

    His sister glanced at the ground. She mumbled her next words.

    ¡°Come back soon.¡±

    Wenzhan paused. Before he could respond, Wenbo turned and ran inside. Wenzhan watched until her little silhouette was swallowed by the shadows of House Guan, and then he walked out of the estate gates.

    Out over the horizon, the sun bled into the sky.

    <hr>

    ...

    <hr>

    On the fifth day after the inaugural imperial dinner, a guest came knocking on Quan Caihe¡¯s palace doors. He claimed he had an affiliation with the Lord Guan, whose appearance in Yincheng had spread well across the empire, precisely as Caihe had intended. Hopeful, she invited this man into the hearing hall, where he presented as a scruff, unappealing workman. He looked like he had not brushed nor cleaned his hair in weeks. From even a distance, he smelled like rotted smoke and putrid wine. Eyes bloodshot with madness, spite¡ªfury.

    ¡°State your name,¡± she said to this man.

    The man had the sense to bow his head.

    ¡°Chang Dazhe, Your Grace. I¡¯ve got a debt to settle with House Guan.¡±

 Part II: The Greed of Dynasty | 10

    During breakfast, a staffboy came with a strange delivery.

    ¡°Message for you, Guardian,¡± he said, bowing to Ziyuan with a roll of parchment.

    Anjie, who was stirring honey into his sister¡¯s herbal tea, glanced up at the staffboy¡¯s odd tone. The boy had been serving as Ziyuan¡¯s messenger for several years now, and it was the first time his voice pitched like so. Anjie¡¯s eyes caught on the parchments unfolding in Ziyuan¡¯s hands¡ªtwo stacked sheets, the frontmost a near-empty white. The only lettering on this coversheet read, For Mu Zi Yuan.

    ¡°This is unusual,¡± said Ziyuan, lifting the coversheet.

    The messenger said, ¡°The file was encrypted. It came a few hours ago from an unknown sender. I had to ask Master Zhang to decrypt it for you. We haven¡¯t looked at the contents, Guardian.¡±

    Ziyuan and Anjie shared a glance.

    ¡°Thank you, Liwei,¡± said Ziyuan.

    The messenger boy nodded, leaving only three Guan siblings and Ziyuan in the tea room.

    ¡°Encrypted?¡± echoed Jinyue, setting down his chopsticks.

    Ziyuan was inspecting the documents in their hand and did not respond. Though intensely curious, Anjie went back to stirring the tea for Wenbo, choosing to respect the privacy of the message. But he had no sooner slid the teacup to his sister than Ziyuan handed the second sheet his way. In the brief moment before Anjie glanced down to inspect this sheet, he saw a confused frown on his friend¡¯s face.

    It was immediately apparent why.

    The document that had been encrypted for Ziyuan contained a single colored photograph of an unfamiliar, aristocratic man. Below this photograph was a detailed profile of the man¡¯s name, birthdate, weight, height, affiliations, land holdings, last seen, and a list of frequented locations. The bolded name was Hua Junli.

    ¡°Do you know this man?¡± said Anjie.

    Wenbo tugged at Anjie¡¯s sleeve and peered over his arm.

    Ziyuan shook their head. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± said Jinyue.

    ¡°Hua Junli,¡± said Anjie.

    Jinyue blinked. ¡°Hua Junli...isn¡¯t he the younger brother of Hua Jiayu? The former regent of Anzhou?¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure why his information has come my way,¡± said Ziyuan. They shook their head, taking the paper that Anjie returned and tucking it into their robes. ¡°I¡¯ll ask someone to look into it later. See if we can figure out where this message came from.¡±

    ¡°And who addressed it to you,¡± said Jinyue. ¡°Who beyond Guilin knows you by name?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps the cranes talked,¡± said Ziyuan.

    Anjie frowned.

    ¡°An-Ge,¡± said Wenbo, tugging at his sleeve again, ¡°you haven¡¯t tried the plums yet.¡±

    Anjie turned to his sister, letting the odd matter slide for the time. Smiling, he picked one from the bowl and inspected its speckled, tough form. He took a bite of bitter sour and hummed. ¡°It has a strong taste. Here, have a bite.¡±

    Wenbo leaned over and took a bite. She spat it right back out onto her plate.

    Anjie laughed. ¡°You see? Wait for it to soften next time, Ah-Bo.¡±

    The girl bit her lip, eyes drawing at the edges. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, An-Ge, I¡­¡±

    Anjie took another bite of the plum. ¡°Well, it compliments the porridge nicely.¡±

    The frown on his sister¡¯s face evaporated to a smile. She turned back to her meal happily.

    ¡°Is Wenzhan sleeping in again?¡± said Jinyue.

    With a mouth full of porridge, Wenbo said, ¡°He left this morning.¡±

    ¡°He left?¡± said Jinyue.

    ¡°Said he was goin¡¯ to a shrine. Said he¡¯d be back in a few days.¡±

    A tinge of worry knotted in Anjie¡¯s chest. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for Wenzhan to vanish for days at a time, and frequently like this, leaving a message for any Guan house member and expecting it to reach Anjie eventually. But yesterday had been...particular. He hadn¡¯t the chance to speak with his younger brother about it yet, hoping for a sober and proper conversation. Perhaps he should have taken the drunken talk to avoid this new anxiety. He could only imagine what Wenzhan was feeling right now, the kiss still unaddressed like an open sore.

    Anjie folded his fingers over his stomach and gazed at his reflection in his dark tea. That knot of worry coated with a layer of ache. Loving someone in vain, loving someone with thick guilt interlacing that intensity¡ªhelplessly, alone, as if eaten by a curse¡ªAnjie knew it all too well, and it was the last thing he wanted for his brother. But perhaps, for Wenzhan, it was not so incurable yet. With time, patience, and a chance to live with freedom¡­

    ¡°An-Ge?¡± said Jinyue.

    Anjie looked up. ¡°Ah. It is nothing. Let us finish eating.¡±

    The morning passed.

    Late afternoon, Anjie and Ziyuan returned from a checkup in the southern Guilin town and stopped by the training hall, where Jinyue was leading practice. The younger Guan back-pedalled on a barely-parried strike when he saw Anjie, but knocked his opponent down moments later. His opponent was Feng Sueyi¡ªa copper eyed crane. Anjie smiled, proud of his talented, ever-working brother. Jinyue glanced up in time to catch this smile, and then, flushing, he struck his sword against the ground and called the hall¡¯s attention. He gave a smooth order to rotate pairings.

    ¡°Shall we join them?¡± said Anjie.

    Ziyuan chuckled. ¡°You go ahead. I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±

    A pair of footsteps rushed down the open corridor. A gasping messenger bent over his knees before the two of them.

    ¡°First Lord, Guardian. Quan Caihe¡ªQuan Caihe¡ª¡±

    His voice carried. The clamour from the training room began to fade.

    ¡°Quan Caihe is in Beicheng.¡±

    A chill ran down Anjie¡¯s spine. ¡°What is she doing there? And why are we only hearing of this now?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s with the Council, my lord. I think she came on their invitation, so the guards didn¡¯t run the message. I heard from the villagers.¡±

    ¡°How many are with her?¡±

    ¡°Only a handful, my lord. And...and a one-eyed man.¡±

    Anjie¡¯s hand closed around the hilt of his sword, his throat tightening. He swallowed.

    ¡°Ziyuan.¡±

    ¡°Here, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    <hr>

    Anjie moved too quickly for Jinyue to stop him. By the time he caught a full glimpse of his brother¡¯s white-robed back, Anjie and Ziyuan were already saddled on their horses and galloping down the Guilinhe road. Swallowing a curse, Jinyue ran back to the estate to grab his sword and his proper Guan attire. Then he made his way as fast as he could toward the stables.

    He had not reached the front gate when hooves drummed up to him. Atop his familiar stallion was little Wenbo, still wearing her black training garments from a youth exercise in the training wing. She must have overheard the talk from the main hall.

    How she understood the significance of it enough to rush out a horse, he had no idea.

    ¡°Bobo, what are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting your horse. Get on!¡±

    ¡°No, Bobo, you¡¯re staying here¡ª¡±

    She pulled the horse away from him, her eyes in a sharp glare. ¡°No! I¡¯m going to help An-Ge.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need your help¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, he does! Hurry up and get on!¡±

    Struck by his little sister¡¯s assertion, Jinyue climbed on the horse. Wenbo urged the stallion before he could settle. By the time he regained his balance, sending his sister back to the estate no longer seemed reasonable.

    It was not long before another set of hooves joined them.

    ¡°Master Guan!¡±

    Jinyue glanced over his shoulder. It was his attendant. ¡°Cailan? What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you,¡± she said.

    No helping it. Jinyue didn¡¯t even know what they were riding into, but that the messenger had said Quan Caihe and Anjie had gripped his sword. The vivid memory of those fingers closing around the hilt, the skin stretching pale across his knuckles, chilled Jinyue to the bone. Nobody survived Guan Anjie that he did not wish to survive, but bloodshed in Guilin tonight meant a long, brutal war.

    When they were past the Rizhai township, Jinyue glanced down at his sister.

    ¡°Bobo.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°How do you know An-Ge needs help?¡±

    She rubbed her nose carelessly, snot smearing on her palm.

    ¡°¡®Cus he looked scared, Jin-Ge.¡±

    Jinyue swallowed and snapped the reins. With a heavy grunt, their horse hurried faster down the valley road.

    <hr>

    By relentless horseback, it was still an hour ride from the Guan estate to the Beicheng Council House. Evening closed in on Anjie and Ziyuan as they pulled in front of the old, strict structure, those painted wooden gates shut like an insult. At a glimpse of their crane white robes, the guards bowed and stepped aside. They left the horses untethered and entered the council house.

    A familiar man walked out of the main hall to greet them. He was elderly, white hair prim, blue robes rich. It was Councilman Lang, who had come to deliver dove silk to Anjie on the night of the Remembrance thanksgiving. Today, he wore not gratitude but reserved, nervous guilt. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Anjie swept back his robes and collected his anger.

    ¡°Councilman Lang. I hear you have a guest.¡±

    ¡°She came on some trivial legal business, Lord Guan. We didn¡¯t wish to involve the guardians.¡±

    ¡°Trivial legal business?¡±

    ¡°A matter of jurisdictional justice¡­¡±

    ¡°Speak clearly, Councilman.¡±

    The councilman brought his hands together, sleeves closing beneath a frown. ¡°A man of Anzhou was wrongly punished for the rape of a Guilin woman. The Empress sought reparations. We resolved the issue, Lord Guan. There is no need for House Guan to interfere.¡±

    To start a war, said those eyes.

    ¡°Resolved?¡± Anjie echoed quietly.

    The councilman looked away. ¡°We are deeply grateful to our guardians, Lord Guan. We could not betray your house, no matter where the fault lies¡­ So we gave her the accuser to judge, just as House Guan judged the accused.¡±

    An image flashed before Anjie¡¯s eyes: an old woman with an exhausted bun, her young daughter beside her, bruised and shivering. A soft voice gathering strength through the wracking, trying to reclaim her soul.

    And that man, Chang Dazhe, unrepentant on his knees before Anjie.

    ¡°Where are they now?¡± he said.

    A pause.

    ¡°They left when news came of your arrival in Beicheng, Lord Guan.¡±

    Anjie turned and left the council house.

    Outside, just as he was remounting his horse, he sighted two familiar faces in his peripheral.

    ¡°An-Ge!¡±

    It was Jinyue and Wenbo. Panic welled inside him. Only briefly¡ªthere was no time.

    ¡°Ah-Yue, take your sister back to the estate.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an order. Go!¡±

    ¡°An-Ge!¡±

    He snapped his reins and galloped toward the Beicheng exit gate, Ziyuan at his side. Behind, his siblings and their attendant ignored his command. He smothered the frustration and focused on catching up to Quan Caihe.

    ¡°She¡¯s baiting you, you know that,¡± said Ziyuan over the hooves.

    ¡°She crossed the line,¡± hissed Anjie.

    The town body of Beicheng faded away. The modest entrance into Guilin appeared in the distance, a traditional wooden archway into the sacred valley. Moments later, their horses stomped beyond this gate.

    Waiting down the foreign dirt road was Quan Caihe.

    She leaned against a sleek, modern van, as if she had been patient for a while. Only five were in her company: three uniformed guards, a familiar battered girl, and her new imperial chief.

    ¡°I was expecting you, Lord Guan.¡± Caihe glanced at the hooves catching up to him. ¡°And it looks like you bring young company.¡±

    Anjie dismounted. He dusted smooth the folds of his robes and walked forward. Beside the empress, her trembling young captive fell to her knees and began to sob.

    ¡°Lord Guan, Lord Guan, please¡­please, I didn¡¯t do anything...¡±

    Anjie kept his expression flat as he glanced over the girl. There was blood on her face. A split lip.

    He stopped five paces from Quan Caihe, only because her guards and that man had stepped forward. As over that blood-soaked dinner table, he met her eyes.

    ¡°I made you a promise,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Touch my land, and your gold will dye red.¡±

    ¡°I remember very clearly, Lord Guan.¡±

    The weight of his sword at his side intensified. His eyes lidded.

    ¡°Your arrogance astounds me, Quan Caihe. Did you truly believe you could come into my home, harm my people, and expect to return to Yincheng alive?¡± Her guards tensed at his threat, reaching for the oddly thick weapons at their sides. Anjie continued before they could draw. ¡°Do not bother. It will take me less than a swing of your blade to be rid of you all.¡±

    The empress chuckled. ¡°No doubt. My chief here says your skill is matchless for thousands, let alone five. Relax your arms, men. We didn¡¯t come here to start a war.¡± She cocked an eyebrow at Anjie. ¡°And please, Lord Guan, make no mistake. If I die here today, you will still have the wrath of the new Quan dynasty to face. I am not alone in name anymore, after all.¡±

    Anjie smiled, cold. Behind him, the footsteps of his siblings padded to a stop.

    ¡°If you think I am so afraid of war as to let you take an innocent woman of Guilin, you are not as sharp as I thought you to be. Or do you imagine I will exchange myself for her? I am no fool, Quan Caihe. Let me repeat myself: If it is Guilin you want, make your graves.¡± He tilted his head. ¡°You may rest in the valley, if you lust for it so desperately.¡±

    The empress gazed back at him.

    A wind swept the path. Beneath it, Anjie¡¯s heart drummed.

    Run, he prayed. Tuck your tails and leave, for these threats are all I have.

    But Quan Caihe smiled.

    ¡°You are mistaken about something, Lord Guan. I suppose you can¡¯t be blamed. I did want Guilin, once.¡±

    She stepped forward, passing the protection of her guard, stopping a single pace from Anjie. She glanced at Ziyuan beside him. She turned back to Anjie, sharp eyes sweeping his crane robes. It was a predatory motion, stirring those bodies at Anjie¡¯s back. Ziyuan held out an arm for the younger guardians as Caihe continued.

    ¡°You see, Lord Guan, the gift you left me has given me quite a lot to think about. I¡¯ve come to realize that while Guilin may be beautiful, extraordinary, it is but a piece of land. Let¡¯s say that we war, shall we? I have your secrets. I have a hundredfold your numbers, if not more. I can beat you down in waves until your beautiful land is just a wet, red one. Perhaps you survive it. Perhaps I die. But perhaps I win¡ªand I do think I will, Lord Guan, truly. But what then? What if victory means I¡¯ve slaughtered you to the last crane? Was Guilin not named for its cranes? Is the legend of the valley not the legend of the cranes?¡±

    Anjie breathed. His fingers slid around his sword.

    Caihe followed the gesture and chuckled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so defensive, Lord Guan. I am trying to strike a bargain we¡¯ll both prefer. What I desire is not the aesthetic of a valley, but something as immortal and untouchable as justice¡­¡±

    She reached out, fingers nearing the robes over his heart. The implications of her words were unravelling, striking Anjie motionless. Before she could touch, Ziyuan moved and a small shadow bolted past Anjie.

    Wenbo shoved the empress back. Ziyuan held a blade before the woman, a steel guardian in front of Anjie. Behind Caihe, her guards drew their weapons too slowly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him!¡± shouted Wenbo.

    Seeing his little sister between himself and the enemy, surrounded by deadly metal, Anjie forgot everything for a moment. He pulled her back quickly and pushed her behind him. This time, his grip on his sword hilt was firm, and his look for Caihe was fueled, fierce.

    Caihe straightened her dress, looking between Anjie and his sister. That smile on her face took a different curve. ¡°How precious. Your sister?¡±

    Anjie drew his sword. Caihe pedalled back, but her words didn¡¯t relent.

    ¡°I would hate for a child to lose her entire family. So I can make you a promise, Lord Guan, if you would like. If I have what I desire, Guilin will not see the bloodshed of war during my rule. In fact, I¡¯ll swear it upon the honor of my dynasty.¡±

    ¡°You expect me to trust your word?¡±

    ¡°Well, only to a degree,¡± said Caihe. She gestured back at the captured young woman. ¡°I can cut out this girl¡¯s tongue right now as payment for my wronged man. Maybe you will stop me before then, or maybe you won¡¯t. Or you can come back with me to the capital. I will write an imperial proclamation on Guilin¡¯s autonomy in perpetuity, and with just your honorable signature, Lord Guan, I will make this public across the empire. Of course, I won¡¯t ask for your, ah, submission, before it is done.¡±

    Anjie didn¡¯t move. His pulse drummed in his ears.

    The young woman on the ground inhaled, a hitched breath through her bloody lips. Voice shaking, she said, ¡°It is but a tongue, Lord Guan, it¡¯s but a tongue¡­¡±

    Behind Anjie, Jinyue¡¯s breaths intermingled with his attendant¡¯s, that girl who had devoted her life to his house since the age of eight. Wenbo¡¯s grip ensnarled his robes, refusing to let go. And Ziyuan stood, wordless. Not calling any lie.

    Indeed, the secrets of House Guan, embedded in his body, would make the new Quan Empire truly immortal. What need would they have for a beautiful piece of land then? Pride, perhaps, would come to take Guilin in time, when the empress was gone and her proclamation ruptured...but still, it was decades of peace for the people he knew and loved. And perhaps by then, the Guan defenses would evolve beyond what his body could give the empire...

    Family? Or duty?

    I¡¯m not good enough to protect you, said Wenzhan.

    Anjie swallowed.

    The truth was that he had made his decision years ago, when he ended the lethal making of the copper-eyed cranes. He simply hadn¡¯t expected to be given clean, hard finality like this.

    ¡°Ziyuan.¡±

    Nothing.

    He sheathed his sword. It weighed heavy at his side, that ancestral piece of guardianship passed down from First Lord to First Lord, carried beneath the calligraphy script of their tea room. But Anjie ate breakfast with his family in that same room.

    He turned to Ziyuan, who would not look at him. Yes, if the empress spoke lies, Ziyuan would have called it long ago.

    ¡°Do not make me interpret your silence,¡± said Anjie.

    Another breeze swept the path. Dusk was coming.

    Ziyuan closed their eyes. After a moment, they turned to Jinyue¡¯s attendant. Said, ¡°Cailan. Take Wenbo back to the estate.¡±

    Cailan hesitated. In that moment, Wenbo tugged closer to Anjie.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    Cailan took two steps and scooped Wenbo up on her arms.

    ¡°Wait,¡± said his little sister. Her fingers dug into his robes. ¡°No! No! Let me go! An-Ge!¡±

    Anjie took her hands. Wenbo grasped at him as he pried her fingers free.

    ¡°No, no, I don¡¯t wanna go! I don¡¯t wanna leave!¡±

    Cailan pulled her away. Anjie let her small hands go, feeling everything to the last graze of her skin. He looked at her face, reflecting his heart, and he didn¡¯t know what to say. He couldn¡¯t find the words before Cailan ran toward Guilin, struggling too much to keep his sister contained in her arms. Her screams trailed, raw and terrible.

    ¡°An-Ge! An-Ge! Don¡¯t leave me! An-Ge!¡±

    Anjie reached for his sword and removed it from the holster. Turning away from his sister, he pressed the sword into Jinyue¡¯s chest. His fingers brushed a trembling, unsteady pulse.

    Jinyue staggered back. Blinked. Looked at the sword, at Anjie.

    ¡°No,¡± said Jinyue, hoarse. ¡°No. You¡¯re not going.¡±

    ¡°Ah-Yue.¡±

    ¡°No. I refuse. I refuse, An-Ge, you¡¯re not leaving¡ªme¡ª¡±

    ¡°Guan Jin Yue.¡±

    Jinyue stopped speaking. His eyes glistened.

    Calmly, Anjie said, ¡°Watch over this for me, brother.¡±

    Jinyue¡¯s hands closed slowly around the sword of the First Guardian. When Anjie let go, a broken noise fell out of his brother¡¯s lips.

    Anjie looked last at Ziyuan. It was a short moment. Ziyuan merely bowed their head.

    He faced Quan Caihe. The empress smiled for him before she turned toward her men.

    ¡°Would you mind escorting our Lord Guan, Chief Quan?¡±

    For the first time, Anjie allowed himself to look at Musheng. That man knelt briefly to pick up the young Guilin girl, to cut the bindings around her wrists and shove her forward. She stumbled past Anjie, crying, ¡°Lord Guan, Lord Guan¡­¡±

    Musheng stopped before Anjie, his dark eye unreadable. Anjie looked down, meaning to walk past him, to follow Caihe by his own will. He had been ready to do this, but suddenly his feet would not move. After a moment, Musheng took his shoulder and shoved him forward. Anjie inhaled sharply.

    Ziyuan: ¡°Jinyue!¡±

    As if shaken from a stupor, that voice screamed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him! Don¡¯t touch him, you traitor, you disgusting snake!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Jinyue¡ª¡±

    ¡°Get your hands off of my brother!¡±

    ¡°Stop it¡ª¡±

    ¡°Jun Musheng! I will kill you! I¡¯ll rip your heart out of your lying throat! You sick, heartless coward!¡±

    Musheng¡¯s fingers tightened around Anjie¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°An-Ge! An-Ge, wait! Wait, please! Please¡­¡±

    Musheng pushed him into the imperial vehicle. The door closed with a slam, muting his brother¡¯s desperate cries, sealing away the soft valley breeze of Guilin.

    <hr>

    ¡°Jinyue! Jinyue, that¡¯s enough!¡±

    The vehicle disappeared down the long road, taking with it the air from Jinyue¡¯s lungs. His brother¡¯s sword dug into his palm, dirtied against the foreign ground. Nothing that had just happened seemed real, not the hard ride to these outskirts, not the empress, not that horrifically marred face, not the white robes of his brother disappearing beneath that black door. As if caught in a nightmare, he screamed without sound, beat his knuckles into the ground, like the pain would somehow wake him up.

    Ziyuan pulled his body upright and grabbed his hands. ¡°Enough now, Ah-Yue.¡±

    Ah-Yue.

    Jinyue stopped for a brief moment. But when he looked up, it was Ziyuan. He shut his eyes and felt the tears come again.

    ¡°M-Master Guan¡­¡±

    The girl. The girl Anjie had saved with¡ª

    His life.

    Jinyue shut away her voice. Beside him, Ziyuan turned. Ziyuan stilled suddenly.

    Jinyue looked up.

    The girl was holding something out to them. Blinking away the tears, Jinyue saw that it was a jade pendant on a red string. An unforgettable dragon he hadn¡¯t seen in nine years.

    Ziyuan took the pendant. ¡°Where did you get this?¡±

    The girl said, ¡°I think...I felt that man put it inside my pocket. The one with the eye.¡±

    Jun Musheng.

    Jun Musheng, who had come to Guilin wearing this jade dragon fifteen years ago, and had never, ever taken it off¡ªexcept once, to hang like a promise around the neck of Guan Anjie. The pendant had vanished from Anjie¡¯s chest like that broken promise, but now it glistened unmistakable in the red dusk.

    Heart pounding and tears forgotten, Jinyue looked at Ziyuan.

    ¡°What does it mean?¡± whispered Jinyue.

    Ziyuan paused. After a moment, Ziyuan reached into their robes and pulled out parchments¡ªthe strange, encrypted message from this morning. Gazing between the papers in one hand and the pendant in the other, Ziyuan spoke a quiet murmur.

    ¡°He needs help.¡±

    Jinyue inhaled.

    Looking down Jinyue, Ziyuan¡¯s infallible eyes sharpened.

    ¡°Pick up your sword, First Guardian. We have an empire to destroy.¡±