To Embers We Return — Chapter 3
***
On hearing what ‘boon’ Shen Ni sought from her, Li Ruoyuan’s head began to throb.
She sat back down on her throne, tilted her little round head, and pressed a forefinger against each temple. Then she looked up at Shen Ni again. ‘If I grant you this request, Shen Ni, then you must promise to do something for me as well.’
‘You do me too much honour, Your Majesty,’ said Shen Ni. ‘As one of your ministers, of course it is my duty to render you the fullest service I am capable of in any matter.’
Fulsome words, thought Li Ruoyuan, but spoken with a completely lackadaisical air which Shen Ni made no attempt to conceal. ‘I know you’ve spent the last few years fighting in Yanluo, risking your life for the empire,’ she said. ‘And before you returned to the capital, I promised that you would be allowed to step back from further active duty. But only by strengthening Chang’an’s defences can we completely prevent the Black Box from invading our capital. These fortifications are the very foundation of our empire. After all these years of war and of the virus’ ceaseless attacks, the people of Chang’an can bear no more suffering. Now that Yanluo has been retaken, we finally have a little breathing space. This gives us the perfect opportunity for building up our fortifications. I had previously appointed a senior minister to oversee the project, but he proved unequal to the sheer scale and complexity of the task. Progress was agonisingly slow, and it eventually became clear that he saw the position as little more than a sinecure. If I had allowed this to go on, I fear the national coffers would have been exhausted long before the project was complete. Shen Ni, my dear minister, you are the only person in the empire who can succeed at this monumental task, otherwise I would not have gone back on my word.’
Shen Ni nodded and thought: you made Bian Jin the same promise years ago, and then you forced her into fighting on the front lines again. It’s hardly the first time you’ve broken your word.
What she said, however, was, ‘It is my great honour and privilege to do all I can in service to the empire, Your Majesty.’
Li Ruoyuan smiled broadly, revealing a pair of adorable little dimples. ‘Then it’s settled, Shen Ni. How lucky the people are, to have a minister as devoted as you! All I need you to do is oversee the construction of the fortifications — it won’t be too onerous, I promise.’
Whether or not Li Ruoyuan truly meant those words, Shen Ni did not care. After all, she’d already got what she wanted from the emperor. She duly knelt and made another obeisance to Li Ruoyuan.
***
The very next day, Shen Ni assumed her new role as director-general of operations for the massive project of constructing Chang’an’s new defensive fortifications. According to the plans which the Ministry of Works had sent over, these were to take the form of a massive wall measuring two hundred and thirty-five feet high,[1] encircling Chang’an completely and set at a distance of about six miles[2] from the city itself. The wall had to serve not only as a bulwark against any maddened, mutated victims of the Black Box who might attack the city from outside, but also against the direct invasion of the virus itself. To that end, a cybersecurity system was to be embedded into the wall. This would scan the area every second, detecting any attempt by the virus to infiltrate the capital, and giving it no chance to take hold in secret.
The six miles between the new defensive wall and Chang’an itself were intended as a buffer zone. If an enemy tried to invade from without, troops stationed in Chang’an would engage it there, reducing casualties among the general populace to an absolute minimum. If the threat came from within the city itself, the buffer zone could be used to contain it and cut it off from all outside aid. The design thus protected against attacks from both directions.
The recent, bloody history of the continent had made it clear to everyone that the Black Box virus could never be completely destroyed. It could be temporarily crushed, but after a period of dormancy, it would inevitably rise again from the ashes. Now all three of the great empires on the continent, as well as the assortment of smaller nations around them, were busy constructing defensive fortifications for their largest cities.
Shen Ni had looked over the plans for the wall and found that they meshed fairly well with her own ideas. So far, however, the Ministry of Works[3] had been incapable of implementing them properly.
Shen Ni had never liked cleaning up after other people’s messes. She always felt as if she’d had some half-grown child thrust into her care, full of bad habits they’d picked up from their last guardian, and told to knock them into shape. So when she finally arrived at the site of the fortifications, she heaved a sigh of relief. There were no messes to be cleaned up here — not even the foundations had been laid yet.
Also present on site was the Minister of Works, who politely asked Shen Ni to let him know if there was anything she needed. Shen Ni promptly handed him a list of some five hundred items she’d drawn up beforehand, and told him to make sure everything was ready within the next five days.
The minister stared at the list in stunned silence. I said you should tell me if there was anything you needed, he thought. I wasn’t expecting you to go mad with power.
Still, it wasn’t as if he wanted to take responsibility for the works himself. This was, after all, one of the largest and most expensive infrastructure projects in the history of the empire. Now that Shen Ni had been put in charge of it, no blame for even the most catastrophic failure could be laid on his head, so he was more than happy to play second fiddle.
‘And I’ll also need an aide,’ Shen Ni added.
Fearing that this young woman might expect him to follow her around playing dogsbody, the minister said immediately, ‘You should choose someone who knows you well, my lord, so you can be sure they will carry out your instructions to your satisfaction.’
Shen Ni could practically hear the abacus beads clacking furiously in his brain. ‘Thank you for for your advice, minister,’ she said amiably. ‘As it happens, I already have a suitable candidate in mind.’
The minister smiled. ‘Please appoint whoever you think fit, my lord.’
And that was how Shen Ni brought Zeng Qingluo out of the shadows and installed her quite openly as her administrative aide, giving her the position of Secretary of the Ministry of Works. It was only later that the Minister of Works discovered that Zeng Qingluo’s name was on a blacklist barring her from any imperial appointments, due to her having offended a member of the nobility several years ago. As he himself had handed her official letter of appointment to the Ministry of Personnel,[4] however, there was no way he could countermand it.
Having been outwitted once by Shen Ni, the Minister of Works no longer dared to underestimate her. Every time he saw that brilliant smile, he was reminded of the fox demons of legend, who were notorious for their cunning. She was, he decided, a rather frightening person.
For the next two days, Shen Ni set out for the construction site early in the morning and returned home only late at night. Bian Jin, meanwhile, drifted fitfully into and out of slumber. Her periods of wakefulness were very brief, and she seemed rather dazed during them. Still, the fact that Bian Jin could wake up at all was a good sign, thought Shen Ni. It meant that her repairs had worked, and the treatment plan she’d put into place was having the desired effect. Slowly but surely, Bian Jin was recovering.
On the evening of the third day, Shen Ni rode home from the site with Zeng Qingluo. ‘Is dashijie still unconscious?’ Zeng Qingluo asked, as their horses progressed slowly through the bustling streets. ‘I’d like to see her.’
As Shen Ni’s shimei and an outer disciple of Shuangji Hall, Zeng Qingluo had grown up listening to tales of Shen Ni and Bian Jin’s exploits. Having only a B-tier Talent herself, she deeply admired her two shijie, who both possessed double S-tier Talents. Ever since she learned of Bian Jin’s condition, her dashijie had been very much on her mind.
Shen Ni did some quick calculations. Bian Jin might regain full consciousness tonight, she thought. ‘You can come and see her in two days’ time.’
‘Wonderful!’ said Zeng Qingluo, her eyes shining. ‘I’ll bring along some gifts as well.’
‘She doesn’t care about things like that,’ said Shen Ni. ‘She’ll be happy enough just to see you.’
Bian Jin had spent most of her life toiling for her country and her sect. Their shizun had died young, and it was not an overstatement to say that Bian Jin had single-handedly held Shuangji Hall together after that. She might seem aloof, but she cared deeply about those who came under her protection. She loved, but it was an all-encompassing, impersonal love that held in it no trace of selfish passion or desire — something which frustrated Shen Ni no end.
Bian Jin would be delighted to see a fellow disciple — that is, unless that fellow disciple was Shen Ni herself. Shen Ni wondered how Bian Jin would feel when she laid eyes on her again.
***
After the two of them had chatted a little while longer, Zeng Qingluo parted ways with Shen Ni, and Shen Ni continued on her journey home. She passed by a confectioner’s shop, and the rich scent of sugar which wafted from it made her guide her horse closer. At the entrance, she dismounted, clipped her reins to the hitching-post outside the shop, and went in. Without its rider, the horse’s bright-white body slowly dimmed and went dark.
The proprietor of the shop was a young woman of about twenty. Seeing that Shen Ni was a young woman herself, and clad in official’s robes besides, the proprietor decided she was likely to be a generous customer. So she hurried up and began showing Shen Ni all the new season’s wares. As she did so, she studied Shen Ni covertly. Shen Ni’s face, she thought, was extraordinarily pleasing to look at. She could tell with one glance that those features were completely natural; they had not been modified in any way. The longer she gazed at Shen Ni, the more captivated she was, to the point that her speech began slowing down without her quite realising it.
Shen Ni seemed not to notice the proprietor’s enraptured stare. She pointed at the tins of syrup in front of her. ‘I’ll take ten of this flavour, please.’
‘Right away!’ said the proprietor. Not only is she as beautiful as a goddess, she’s liberal with her silver as well, she thought. Oh, how would anyone resist such a woman? As she wrapped up the tins Shen Ni had asked for, she slipped into the package a scrap of paper that had her Messenger Pigeon QR code printed on it.
The proprietor handed Shen Ni her purchases, her fingertips brushing against the back of Shen Ni’s hand seemingly by accident. Then she bent forward as gracefully as a flower-laden bough. ‘We offer home delivery as well, my lord.’
Shen Ni turned lightly, and the proprietor — who was still leaning forward, clearly aiming for Shen Ni’s shoulder — overbalanced and nearly fell over. ‘Thank you,’ said Shen Ni.
The proprietor was left dumbfounded. She seems like such a pleasant, approachable woman — I hadn’t expected her to be as standoffish as this. Why, she’s practically ice-cold!
Before stepping out of the shop, Shen Ni plucked the slip of paper with the QR code on it from the package. ‘This isn’t mine. You must have put it in by mistake.’ With a flick of her fingers, she sent it fluttering onto the nearest countertop.
‘But—’ the proprietor began.
Shen Ni turned and left without giving the other woman a chance to say anything more.
Outside the shop, as she was about to climb back onto her saddle, she overheard a gaggle of passersby gossiping about Prince Wei.
‘They say Prince Wei is taking a concubine soon — and it’s that woman who used to be Governor-General of the North!’
‘What? You don’t mean — Bian Jin?’
‘Yes, the very same!’
‘Wasn’t she imprisoned for high treason?’
‘I hear Prince Wei managed to have her released on bond, and even after everything she’s been accused of, he still means to give her a place in society.’
‘My, that’s a very handsome gesture on the royal family’s part. Bian Jin is a lucky woman indeed.’
Shen Ni settled back onto her horse, and it lit up again. All the way home, the news that Prince Wei was taking a concubine seemed to be echoing on every second passerby’s lips. The corners of her mouth lifted very slightly. What a fanfare, she thought.
***
As she slowly returned to consciousness, Bian Jin became aware of the faint, familiar scent of temple tea.[5] It was the very same fragrance that used to drift through the corridors of Shuangji Hall. Smell was a stronger goad to the memory than any of the other senses; she almost believed that she was back at the sect.
When she finally managed with difficulty to open her eyes, however, she found herself in a strange bedchamber. The plain bed-curtains had been looped back, and other than the long, ornately carved table that stood at the foot of the bed, the room was empty of all other furniture.
At the table sat a young woman, who was looking down at a scroll she held in her hand. It cast a faint glow over her face, which made Bian Jin think of her shimei, though this woman looked a little different from the Shen Ni she remembered. Shen Ni had had a coolness about her that kept most people at a distance. The young woman in front of her, however, possessed a charm that caught and held the eye, even when she was merely sitting there without speaking.
When Shen Ni looked up, she realised that Bian Jin had been awake for some time, and was gazing silently at her.
Shen Ni pressed a spot on the side of the scroll she was holding, and it dimmed gradually. Then she stood up, slipped on a pair of gloves, picked up a beaker with a straw attached to its lid, and went over to the bed.
As she stepped closer, Bian Jin could make out her face even more clearly. This young woman was undoubtedly her shimei.
Bian Jin averted her gaze quietly. So it hadn’t been a dream after all. Shen Ni really had carried her away from the Court of Judicature and Revision.
‘Drink some of this,’ said Shen Ni.
Her voice, Bian Jin reflected, hadn’t changed all that much. The last time they saw each other, Shen Ni had only been sixteen, with traces of childishness still clinging to her features, though her voice had already deepened to the richness of womanhood. At the time, the rapid changes of adolescence had left it with a certain huskiness; now, no hint of that remained. Her voice was as sweet and clear as a bell, with a subtle magnetism woven through it.
Shen Ni made to feed Bian Jin. Bian Jin, unaccustomed to being waited on — and even less accustomed to eating from someone else’s hand — tried to sit up, and Shen Ni stopped her with a glance. She pressed the straw against Bian Jin’s mouth and said, ‘This is a nutrient beverage; it’s sweet. You won’t be able to move until you’ve drunk it.’
Bian Jin stared at the straw for a moment, then tried to reach for it. But her arm remained motionless, and it was then that she realised it was completely devoid of strength.
Shen Ni seemed to have anticipated this. At the sight of Bian Jin’s nonplussed expression, a hint of amusement — which she made no attempt to hide — flitted through her eyes.
It was frustrating to be as helpless as this, but Bian Jin also realised that, if she refused to drink, she would soon lose what little strength she had. The only thing she could do was open her mouth and take the straw in it.
Shen Ni’s gaze fell on Bian Jin’s lips. Bian Jin’s phobia of dirt meant that the only eating utensils and vessels she willingly let past them were those that had already been sanitised, or had been handed to her by someone she knew very well. To do otherwise would cause her immeasurable anxiety.
As the nutrient beverage trickled into her mouth, Bian Jin’s dulled eyes began to brighten again. It was sweet, as Shen Ni had promised, and tasted of osmanthus blossoms. Her cybernetic implants, lying heavy and half-dormant within her, slowly awakened as they regained some strength. But the simple, everyday motion of sucking was still immensely difficult for Bian Jin, and the effort brought a fine, crystalline sheen of sweat to her forehead. She realised then how terribly weak she was, and memories of the interrogations she’d endured at the Court of Judicature and Revision flooded her mind. She’d been tortured extensively, leaving her filthy with blood and sweat and worse. But now — judging from the parts of her body she could see, at least — someone had bathed her, treated her wounds and dressed her in a nightshirt that did not belong to her. This led her inevitably to a certain conclusion.
Shen Ni waited patiently for Bian Jin to finish drinking — admiring her shijie’s contemplative profile as she did so — before explaining, ‘It was Auntie Wan who cleaned you up and dressed you. You still remember Auntie Wan, don’t you? She’s the housekeeper here now.’
That was the answer to the precise question Bian Jin had been pondering. She glanced up, and saw that the corners of Shen Ni’s lips and eyes were curved slightly upwards in a smile. But when she looked closer, the smile seemed to fade into the background, and her naturally cool, distant demeanour came to the fore. Bian Jin understood then. Shen Ni was grown up now, and that air of indifference she’d had around most people as a child had given way to this faint, gracious smile she wore at all times. But there was something elusive about it, something enigmatic; it resembled more a smokescreen than the true expression of her emotions.
The two of them had not seen each other for six years. All the old familiarity had dissipated; only their estrangement still remained. A long silence fell over the room.
Then Shen Ni said easily, ‘I’ve read the testimony you gave to the Court of Judicature and Revision. You said you remember nothing of what happened to you in the last three years.’
Bian Jin’s eyes wandered over to the incense burner that stood on a table not far away. The faint fragrance of temple tea rose from it. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Your jade core was shattered in the most brutal way imaginable,’ Shen Ni went on. ‘It’s beyond repair now. Almost every part of your body, both organic and cybernetic, has sustained serious injuries that look as if they were inflicted deliberately and with malice. And you can’t remember who did that?’
Bian Jin’s Talent was a very rare one — she was a double S-tier warrior. In the normal course of things, no opponent should have been able to injure her so badly, much less leave her with no memory of how it had happened. Yet somehow, even in the face of that, she seemed able to maintain her usual equanimity.
Shen Ni had tried to rein in her emotions, but Bian Jin could still hear the anger behind her question. As it rang in her ears, she was reminded once again of what she’d suffered at the Court of Judicature and Revision’s hands. The pain from her wounds — which were still not completely healed — flared up along her nerves. She felt as if she was back in the depths of that dark prison, where guards and jailors who had once feared even to look her in the eye had indulged themselves fully in the pleasure of tormenting her.
Bian Jin’s eyes turned icy as she met Shen Ni’s gaze. ‘Li Ruoyuan has changed tactics, it seems,’ she said, ‘and now she’s tasked you with preying on my emotions, no doubt to lure me into some trap. You’ve already examined me thoroughly; were you able to find what you wanted in or on my body?’
Her words were startingly frank, and spoken with an air of absolute authority. Anyone else would have been cowed by this show of forcefulness.
But not Shen Ni. Instead of retreating, she renewed her offensive. ‘So you think I’m working for the emperor?’ she asked, then leaned suddenly very close to Bian Jin.
Bian Jin’s obsession with cleanliness meant she did not enjoy being physically close to most people. In the past, unless she was alone, she habitually wore a mask across the lower half of her face to block out the smells around her, including those from other people.
Right now, Shen Ni smelled quite pleasant — a hint of temple tea from the incense burner, mixed with an unfamiliar floral scent. But she was no longer the shimei Bian Jin knew, and being so close to someone who was now half a stranger sparked Bian Jin’s anxiety, making her breathing quicken.
In the past, Bian Jin could have handled this with perfect calm. All it would have roused in her was a faint distaste, and she would have simply withdrawn herself from the offending presence as far as politeness allowed. Now that she was severely injured, however, her ability to tolerate this assault on her senses had sunk to its nadir. A faint dizziness came over her; reflexively, she bit her lower lip to stop herself from whimpering — that would have been an admission of weakness indeed.
‘Do you think I could have extracted you from the Court of Judicature and Revision’s clutches if I hadn’t given Li Ruoyuan a convincing excuse?’ Shen Ni pressed. ‘I could simply have hacked into your memory module by force — I’d have a ninety-nine percent chance of success. It wouldn’t be difficult; I’d just have to be a little rough, that’s all. Though it would have killed you, of course.’
Two pairs of burning eyes collided with each other at close quarters. Shen Ni could see the very moment when Bian Jin took in her words and the tense animosity in her eyes began to soften. It was only then that she realised she was gripping Bian Jin by the wrist — when had that happened?
The woman who had tied her up, forced her to kneel in the snow and given her ten vicious lashings was now too weak even to free herself from Shen Ni’s grasp. Silently, Shen Ni let go. Her finger marks stood out clearly against Bian Jin’s fair skin. Had something about Bian Jin’s constitution changed, or had she always bruised so easily?
Bian Jin noticed that Shen Ni was wearing gloves — something people rarely did in the privacy of their own homes — and realised that Shen Ni must have put them on for her sake. After everything that had happened, Shen Ni still remembered that she had a phobia of dirt. That also meant Shen Ni did not believe her to be a traitor.
‘Apologies,’ said Bian Jin mildly.
That warm, gentle smile of Shen Ni’s spread across her luminous face again, as if their confrontation a few moments ago had never happened. ‘If you hadn’t brought me back with you to Shuangji Hall all those years ago, shijie, I’d have frozen to death. I’ve never had the chance to repay you for your kindness until now. Please make yourself at home here while you recover from your wounds.’
Bian Jin was about to say something more, but when Shen Ni turned and began walking out of the room, she bit back the words.
At the threshold, Shen Ni paused suddenly. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘since you care nothing for me, shijie, how could I possibly prey on your emotions?’
And without looking to see Bian Jin’s reaction, Shen Ni stepped through the door and shut it courteously behind her.
***
Author’s Note:
Little Fox Shen: I want to be hooked, when are you going to start baiting me *pleading face emoji*
That extreme push-pull dynamic (physically, anyway)…
Fast-forwarding to the wedding imminently.
***
Footnotes:
- In the original text, twenty 丈 (pinyin: zhang). A customary Chinese measure of length whose value has varied over time and place, but was eventually standardised (via treaties between China and England and France) as 3.58 metres, or eleven feet and nine inches. This is the value that has been adopted for the purposes of this translation. References to ‘zhang’ elsewhere in the text have likewise been converted to feet and inches. [return to text]
- In the original text, twenty 里 (pinyin: li). A customary Chinese measure of distance whose value has varied across time, but has now been standardised at 500 metres, or 0.311 miles. This is the value that has been adopted for the purpose of this translation. References to ‘li’ elsewhere in the text have likewise been converted to miles. [return to text]
- In the original text, 工部 (pinyin: gong bu). One of the Six Ministries which formed part of the primary administrative structure of imperial China, the Ministry of Works was responsible for the construction and maintenance of public infrastructure (including roads and canals), the manufacturing and provision of government equipment, the standardisation of weights and measures, and the gathering of resources from the countryside. [return to text]
- In the original text, 吏部 (pinyin: li bu). One of the Six Ministries which formed part of the primary administrative structure of imperial China, the Ministry of Personnel was responsible for appointments, merit ratings, promotions, and demotions of civil (as opposed to military) officials. [return to text]
- In the original text, 禅茶 (pinyin: chan cha). This refers to tea grown, picked and processed by Buddhist monks on the grounds of their temple or monastery. Also referred to as ‘Zen tea’. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 