To Embers We Return — Chapter 12
***
The coach which Bian Jin had driven to the Ministry of Works was Marquess Jing’an’s official equipage. The two of them climbed inside and shut the heavy door behind them, blocking out the rain and cold. A temple-tea-scented warmth wrapped itself slowly around them.
Shen Ni closed the umbrella and stuck it through the rack diagonally in front of her. Then she reached into a compartment beside the rack and took out a rensheng.
‘I have one for you too,’ she told Bian Jin. ‘But I thought it might not be… suitable for you to wear it, so I didn’t give it to you earlier.’
The rensheng in her hand was woven from red and pink ribbons — not one of the standard colour combinations Bian Jin had seen repeated across market stalls and shopfronts around the city — and its little face was perfectly crafted, without a single feature out of place. It looked utterly adorable. Shen Ni must have made it herself.
‘There’s nothing unsuitable about it,’ said Bian Jin. ‘Why don’t you give it to me now?’
Shen Ni handed her the rensheng, and Bian Jin fastened it to her belt. As she did so, she examined Shen Ni’s hand silently.
The interior of the coach was lit with a warm, moon-gold glow. It wasn’t particularly bright, but Bian Jin could still make out the bite marks on Shen Ni’s hand. She was now absolutely sure that those had been left by her own teeth.
‘Home.’
At Shen Ni’s command, the horses threw back their heads and trotted forward. Amid their low whickering, the coach rolled steadily through the snow.
Shen Ni had made extensive modifications to the coach. One of these was a heating system that allowed the interior to be kept at a constant temperature. She’d also enlarged the wheel treads, so that even when the horses were running at top speed — a rate comparable to a hovercraft — only the faintest of vibrations could be felt inside, making for a smooth journey.
Now that they were away from prying eyes, the two of them quite naturally drew apart again. Bian Jin tucked herself into the one side of the coach and Shen Ni shifted to the other. The space between them could have accommodated another full-grown adult — possibly even two — quite comfortably.
Shen Ni crossed her legs elegantly and took out her digital tablet. She was just about to get back to work when she heard Bian Jin ask, ‘Did I do that?’
Shen Ni’s gaze fell on her own right forefinger. The half-circle of tooth marks stood out prominently against her skin, and the bruise on the back of her hand even more so.
‘It would have escaped my mind completely if you hadn’t mentioned it,’ said Shen Ni casually.
Bian Jin gazed intently at Shen Ni’s hand. The lamplight fell into her dark eyes and was reflected back in a thousand glints of gold. ‘Does it hurt?’
Shen Ni hadn’t been looking at her before, but at the question, her eyes went unbidden to Bian Jin’s lips. She recalled how those lips had felt against her skin last night.
Her shijie’s phobia of dirt meant that she habitually wore a protective mask across the lower half of her face, and she was very particular about what she allowed into her mouth. But now Shen Ni had learned how hot and soft the tongue so closely guarded by those chaste lips was.
She decided not to bring up the fact that Bian Jin had been licking at her finger for a good while last night. After all, her shijie hadn’t really meant to do it, and she probably wouldn’t appreciate being reminded.
‘Not at all, shijie,’ said Shen Ni. ‘You’re still recovering, and your strength is not yet what it used to be. It was just like being nipped by a kitten — I barely felt anything.’
At those words, a touch of surprise crept into Bian Jin’s cool, peach-blossom eyes,[1] and they widened slightly. This was the first time she’d ever heard anyone liken her to a kitten.
Until the coach came to a stop outside the mansion, neither of them said another word.
***
A few days later, Shen Ni and Bian Jin were awakened early in the morning by the sound of hurried footsteps on the walkway outside. There was a knock on the door, then they heard Auntie Wan call out, ‘My lord, my lady, Her Highness Prince Yong has turned up unannounced, together with some officials from the Court of Judicature and Revision. They say they’ve come to take her ladyship away for routine questioning.’
Prince Yong? thought Shen Ni. Li Shan?
When Shen Ni and Bian Jin stepped into the main hall, Li Shan was already there, flanked by several black-uniformed officials.
‘Your Highness,’ Shen Ni greeted her lazily.
Li Shan eyed the two women in front of her, her willow-leaf eyes[2] sharp and disdainful. Her gaze rested on Bian Jin for few moments, then fixed itself steadily on Shen Ni.
Li Shan’s makeup was perfectly done, highlighting her flamboyant beauty. She stood cool and arrogant in her robes of office; there was something that spoke of cruelty in her demeanour.
The officials beside her were all from the Court of Judicature and Revision. Li Shan, as the Director of the Supreme Bureau of Research and Innovation, was technically their superior in rank. In principle, there was nothing wrong with her commanding them. Still, it was rather novel to see a researcher like her at the head of an operation by these enforcers.
‘I have long wanted to meet you, Marquess Jing’an,’ said Li Shan. The curtness of her tone, however, belied those words. She showed absolutely no sign of wanting to become better acquainted with Shen Ni.
After that solitary concession to civility, Li Shan went immediately to business. ‘Marquess Jing’an, the day you removed Mistress Bian from the Court of Judicature and Revision’s prison, it was agreed that you would bring her back every ten days for questioning. Now more than ten days have elapsed, but Mistress Bian has yet to darken their door. The officials you see here have been compelled to call on you in person. How highly you must think of yourself! Do you believe your military victories give you licence to break your word to your fellow ministers?’
This took Bian Jin somewhat by surprise. She had not been aware of such an agreement.
Shen Ni, had, indeed, agreed to bring Bian Jin back to the Court of Judicature and Revision every ten days for questioning, but that had only been a sop she’d thrown to its director. After all, she and the emperor had an arrangement of their own. The Court of Judicature and Revision must have heard something of this — that Shen Ni was acting on behalf of the emperor, that she had promised the emperor she had more delicate ways of extracting information from Bian Jin. Those good-for-nothing fools were probably all too delighted to have Bian Jin off their hands, she’d surmised at the time, so they were hardly likely to turn up at her residence demanding Bian Jin’s presence.
She hadn’t expected Li Shan to go to the trouble of doing so on their behalf.
Shen Ni looked Li Shan straight in the eye. ‘Your Highness has misunderstood me, I fear. I do not have the lofty opinion of myself with which I’m charged — quite the opposite. The day my lady wife left the Court of Judicature and Revision’s custody, that was on the strength of an edict from the emperor herself, exonerating my wife of her supposed crimes. While I did promise that she would return every ten days to assist with their enquiries, that was motivated purely by my sympathy for the difficulty of their task — uncovering the truth behind the deaths of those million soldiers in Yanluo — and my desire to help them conclude it as soon as possible. It was a gesture of kindliness on my part. As my lady wife is no criminal, it is completely in keeping with protocol for the officials of the Court of Judicature and Revision to call on her in person should they wish to seek her advice. We meant to be of assistance to them, yet we now find ourselves subjected to accusations of breaking our word. If other officials were to hear of this, it would no doubt chill their loyal hearts.’
‘And another thing, Your Highness,’ Shen Ni went on. ‘All my military victories were won in the emperor’s service. Never have I sought them for the sake of my own glory. I owe everything I have to Her Majesty’s generosity, and I am under no illusion that my accomplishments give me the right to renege on my promises. On what grounds can that charge be laid at my door?’
Once again, Bian Jin heard Shen Ni call her ‘my lady wife’. As before, though, it was merely part of a show put on for the benefit of outsiders.
Shen Ni’s tone was perfectly mild. On first impression, any casual listener would have believed that she took no umbrage at Li Shan’s words. However, that seeming softness concealed an edge of steel so sharp that it left the officials at a loss for words.
The emperor had indeed granted a special amnesty to Bian Jin, allowing her to leave their custody. But everyone involved in the matter knew perfectly well that the emperor had simply entrusted the task of investigating her to Shen Ni instead. Bian Jin might no longer be a prisoner, but she was still a suspect nonetheless. She was just being investigated covertly instead of openly.
The Court of Judicature and Revision had never welcomed outside intervention into their cases, and there was usually no cause for anyone to do so. When it came to Bian Jin, however, they’d exhausted their full array of techniques, yet failed to extract even a single scrap of information from her — a most humiliating outcome. Once the emperor had issued her edict, they’d had no choice but to comply. All they could do was look on as Shen Ni took Bian Jin away — something completely unprecedented in the annals of their institution.
To save some face, their director had made a deal with Shen Ni. Every ten days, she was supposed to bring Bian Jin back and let them make a record of anything she happened to remember within that time. After all, they were still tasked with uncovering the truth behind the deaths of Bian Jin’s million-strong army. Whether as a law-abiding subject of the empire or as a commander who had forged deep bonds of loyalty with her soldiers, Bian Jin was honour-bound to help them with their enquiries.
More than ten days had elapsed, however, and Bian Jin had yet to turn up at the Court of Judicature and Revision as agreed. Now, not only had the officials come all this way in the bitter cold to fetch her, they’d been thoroughly chastised by Shen Ni. To hear her speak, they were nothing more than a pack of ingrates who’d repaid her generosity with outright hostility! The most infuriating thing was, Shen Ni had alluded to the fact that she had the emperor’s backing at every turn. The officials’ tempers were beginning to flare, but there was no sensible way for them to vent their frustrations.
Li Shan watched Shen Ni, her face a complicated mixture of emotions. She’d long heard that while Shen Ni might appear perfectly demure on the surface — to all outward appearances, the very epitome of feminine grace — she was in fact a fox in sheep’s clothing, concealing a malign heart behind her guileless exterior.
She chuckled derisively. ‘What a clever tongue you have, Marquess Jing’an. Why, you could almost talk one into believing that a corpse had come back to life!’
Shen Ni replied, her tone as mild and even as before, ‘If I truly could raise the dead through the power of speech, Your Highness, I would feel duty-bound to use that gift as often as humanly possible.’
Once again, the officials were stunned into silence. Marquess Jing’an might or might not be capable of speaking the dead back to life, but her tongue was certainly sharp enough to kill.
‘Is this how you fought your battles in Yanluo, Shen Ni?’ Li Shan demanded. ‘With that mouth?’
‘Your Highness does me too much honour,’ said Shen Ni deferentially. ‘How diligently Your Highness toils! Not only do you have your duties at the Supreme Bureau of Research and Innovation, which must take up a great part of your attention, you have to oversee the Court of Judicature and Revision’s errands as well. If I could share in but a tenth part of your labours, Your Highness, that would be a great privilege indeed.’
A current of unease ran through the assembled officials. Shen Ni was known for her vicious tongue, yet Prince Yong still insisted on trading these pointless barbs with her. If they didn’t know better, they could have believed that Prince Yong was enjoying herself.
Li Shan sat down in the chair at the top of the room — the one which belonged to Shen Ni as head of the household. She raised her voice. ‘Shen Ni, cease these word games at once. If Bian Jin truly is innocent, why would she fear questioning? I came here personally to fetch her today, and you’ve offered me nothing but excuses at every turn. Do you have something to hide?’
Shen Ni scoffed inwardly. Last time it had been Li Chu, and now it was Li Shan. You royal siblings are all the same, she thought. I offer you the courtesy due to your position, and you take that as licence to walk all over me!
She was just about to retort when she felt someone hook their finger gently around hers, drawing her back ever so slightly from Li Shan.
It was Bian Jin. Neither she nor Shen Ni was wearing gloves.
Bian Jin had touched her directly, skin against skin. It was as if they’d gone back six years ago, before any estrangement had grown up between them. Back then, Shen Ni was the only person whose touch did not trigger Bian Jin’s phobia of dirt.
The warmth of that tiny point of contact set Shen Ni’s senses aflutter; all the mocking words she’d been about to utter vanished completely away. When she looked back at Bian Jin, her gaze was fully captured by her shijie’s clear, bright eyes.
Bian Jin did not say anything more. That small gesture was enough to tell Shen Ni that Bian Jin did not want her to go on the attack just quite yet. It was exactly what she used to do when Shen Ni had been younger. Whenever Shen Ni got herself into a quarrel over the honour of her sect, or found herself out of her depth in a squabble, Bian Jin would draw Shen Ni protectively behind her, soothing her without words.
Bian Jin’s gaze travelled from Shen Ni’s face to Li Shan’s. Frost crept into her expression. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘It’s only routine questioning, after all.’
‘Shijie.’ Shen Ni took a step sideways, placing herself between Bian Jin and Li Shan. ‘Prince Yong is using you as an excuse to make trouble for me,’ she whispered, ‘because I dared to demand access to the Supreme Bureau of Research and Innovation. They must have come up with some new device for testing the functionality of a memory module. If you go with them, all you’ll end up with is a bellyful of bad luck.’
Shen Ni had just realised that she’d perhaps been rather too protective of Bian Jin, hence her explanation. She wanted to let Bian Jin know that she was the ultimate target of Li Shan’s hostility, and it was only natural for her to retaliate in the strongest terms she could muster.
‘We’re a married couple now,’ said Bian Jin. ‘Any insult to your honour is an insult to mine, and any attack directed at you is an attack directed at me.’
Shen Ni stared at her.
‘I refuse to be a blot on your reputation,’ Bian Jin went on, ‘and the last thing I want to do is cause you trouble.’
Bian Jin was effectively saying she wanted to prove she had nothing to hide. Now that she’d said so, Shen Ni couldn’t in good conscience talk her out of it.
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
Li Shan had taken note of Shen Ni’s transformation when she spoke to Bian Jin, and the way in which her acerbic wit had instantly become wifely solicitude. ‘How much leisure you must have, Marquess Jing’an,’ Li Shan said mockingly, ‘to be able to devote yourself to keeping your wife company. I assume there is nothing at your directorate which requires your attention?’
Shen Ni turned to look at Li Shan, her expression turning icy again. ‘By Your Highness’ grace, work on the fortifications is progressing rather slowly at the moment. There is indeed nothing much I need to take care of personally.’
Li Shan lapsed momentarily into silence. What Shen Ni had just said was the height of disrespect, but it was also true. At the heart of the matter was one simple fact: Li Shan was actively barring Shen Ni from gaining access to the Supreme Bureau of Research and Innovation, even though Shen Ni had been personally appointed by the emperor to supervise the construction of the city’s fortifications. That being the case, Li Shan’s objections could be fairly characterised as a deliberate obstruction to the progress of the works. If the city were to come under attack, and the emperor chose to lay the blame for it at her feet, there was no credible way for Li Shan to exonerate herself.
Shen Ni bowed to Li Shan, then walked out of the room behind Bian Jin.
Sparks of vexation flared in Li Shan’s eyes. Her eyes lingered on Shen Ni’s graceful figure for several moments and darkened slightly. Then, with an imperious flick of her sleeve, she followed Shen Ni out of the mansion.
***
When Shen Ni and Bian Jin arrived at the Court of Judicature and Revision, accompanied by Li Shan and her entourage, they were led into a windowless chamber. The walls were a stark, unrelieved white, and in the middle of the room stood a massive chair made of metal. The chair’s headrest was curved in a semi-circle — just the right shape to wrap halfway around the head of whoever sat in it.
Shen Ni gave Bian Jin a look that said, ‘As I expected.’
Li Shan patted one of the armrests. ‘This piece of equipment has been specially designed for reading associative memories,’ she explained. ‘It has been fitted with the most cutting-edge sensors, and is capable of mapping a suspect’s brain activity with a very high degree of precision.’
She tapped her own head. ‘The hippocampus and frontal lobe of every human brain, whether cybernetically enhanced or not, play a major role in the creation and retention of memories. There is no one who is more intimately familiar with the scene of a crime than the murderer herself. No matter how much she tries to dissemble, the moment she’s shown something related to the crime, her memories of it will be brought to the surface. By analysing the suspect’s brain activity, one will be able to determine whether she has any true knowledge of the crime.’
‘Oh, and by the way,’ Li Shan added. ‘Even where the suspect’s memory module has been damaged, she will still not be able to evade discovery as long as the faintest memory of the crime remains. If any such trace is detected, no matter how small, the device will sound an alarm.’
Li Shan, who did not believe for a single instant that Bian Jin had lost her memory, patted the chair again. She looked at Bian Jin, her eyes full of challenge. ‘Simply put, once the real culprit sits down in this chair, all of her crimes will be exposed.’
Li Shan’s words were enough to strike fear into the heart of any layperson. Shen Ni, however, only sauntered forward, detaching a dainty little spray-bottle from her belt as she did so.
‘Your Highness, I have a question. Can this device distinguish between different types of memories? For instance, where a suspect has been falsely accused of a crime, and subjected to relentless interrogation, they will no doubt become privy to all sorts of information they did not previously know. Is the device capable of differentiating between memories created under those circumstances from those caused by the actual commission of the crime itself?’
The assembled officials of the Court of Judicature and Revision — whom Shen Ni clearly regarded as having ‘falsely accused’ Bian Jin of treason and subjected her to ‘relentless interrogation’ — had bristled when Shen Ni began speaking. By the time she reached the end of her speech, however, they had all sunk into a contemplative silence. This was indeed a thorny problem.
Li Shan, however, seemed to be prepared for this very question. She answered readily, ‘There’s no need for you to worry over that, Marquess Jing’an. The device is equipped with the latest memory fingerprinting technology, and is capable of tracing brain activity at the neuron level. It has no difficulty distinguishing between memories acquired at second-hand and those created directly.’
Li Shan’s supreme confidence and the detailed nature of her explanation made it clear that she was the one responsible for the design of the machine. Shen Ni, however, barely spared a glance for what she considered to be a crude device.
‘There’s only one reliable way of verifying that,’ she said. ‘By taking the machine apart.’
Both Shen Ni and Li Shan were machinists, but Shen Ni’s was a double S-tier Talent — a full level higher than Li Shan. That was a chasm Li Shan could never hope to bridge in her lifetime. As the empire’s absolute authority on all things cybernetic, if Shen Ni really were to dismantle the machine and point out all the flaws she saw, Li Shan would have no grounds on which to gainsay her.
Shen Ni had made her meaning clear. She wasn’t about to let Bian Jin be subjected to yet more false accusations.
Shen Ni sprayed every single inch of the chair with disinfectant from her tiny bottle, going over it twice. Then she sighed. ‘That will have to do. It’s just about clean enough for you to sit in now.’
Li Shan glared at her.
Bian Jin, showing no sign of outward emotion, sat down in the chair without waiting for further orders from Li Shan. ‘Let’s begin,’ she said.
***
An hour later, Bian Jin stepped down from the machine. ‘May I go now, Your Highness?’ she asked Li Shan.
Li Shan was staring at the chair, whose alarm had not gone off even once. Her face was as grim as iron.
Shen Ni handed Bian Jin’s cloak to her.
‘Your Highness,’ one of the officials said softly to Li Shan, ‘is the device broken? Should we examine it?’
‘Please allow me to ask the machine whether it’s broken, Your Highness,’ said Shen Ni in tones of great concern.
Li Shan, whose rage was so strong that she had barely any attention to spare for the proprieties, spat out two words from between her clenched teeth. ‘Get. Out.’
***
In the coach on their way home, Bian Jin seemed rather weary. She leaned against the window, propping up her head on one arm.
Shen Ni handed her a cup of water with a gloved hand. ‘That machine takes a heavy toll on the brain.’
Bian Jin accepted the cup. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m not doing too badly, all things considered.’ But her brow was deeply furrowed.
Shen Ni knew that wasn’t just from the physical toll of the machine. When Bian Jin had been sitting in that chair, the officials of the Court of Judicature and Revision had shown her video after video of her battles in Yanluo as they questioned her. Then suddenly, with no warning at all, they’d played a clip of a soldier being brutally tortured and killed. That soldier had been one of Bian Jin’s oldest, most loyal followers, and had accompanied Bian Jin on her first campaign north. Even Shen Ni recognised her.
The clip had been deliberately enlarged to highlight the soldier’s suffering. Every single contortion of her face had been reflected in Bian Jin’s eyes. Bian Jin’s expression had remained completely unchanged, but Li Shan’s machine had detected vast waves of sorrow emanating from her brain.
Shen Ni had watched as the blue line surged up and up on the chair’s attached display. That was Bian Jin’s pain. It struck again and again at her chest, like an endless wave.
Li Shan’s device had found no evidence of Bian Jin’s supposed treason, but it had revealed a side of her that she kept deeply hidden.
Bian Jin’s sorrow had breached the top of the device’s hundred-point scale. Anyone else would have been a weeping, blubbering mess, but Bian Jin’s expression remained the same as usual. Her eyes were perfectly calm: not a single tear, not a single ripple.
Shen Ni was reminded of that snowy night so many years ago when she’d declared her feelings for Bian Jin. At the time, too, Bian Jin’s eyes had looked as if they were covered by a solid layer of ice, cold and impenetrable; no trace of feeling could be read in them. Shen Ni had believed her shijie to be even more stoic and emotionless than those martial artists who followed the Loveless Path.[3] It was only now that it occurred to her that, even though she’d been raised by Bian Jin since she was a baby, she might never have truly understood her shijie at all.
Perhaps the person Bian Jin was cruellest to had always been Bian Jin herself.
Inside the coach, Bian Jin swallowed some nutrient beverage that had been sweetened with osmanthus syrup. The ache began ebbing from her tortured nerves; her delicate eyelashes drooped. As sleep overtook her, she began sliding sideways towards Shen Ni’s half of the coach.
Something rippled in the depths of Shen Ni’s eyes. She reached out and wrapped an arm around Bian Jin, as if Bian Jin were her wife in truth and not just in name. Then she laid Bian Jin’s head on her shoulder, lending her shijie a few moments of peace.
***
Author’s Note:
How Bian Jin sees herself: a vicious carnivore, completely devoid of empathy
How her xiaoshimei sees Bian Jin: a cute little kitten
Sleepy shijie.
Another day of the wives operating in perfect sync with each other.
***
Footnotes:
- In Chinese, 桃花眼 (pinyin: taohua yan). A long eye shape with a deep set inner corner and upward-tilting outer corner, often regarded as one of the most attractive and flirtatious eye shapes. [return to text]
- In Chinese,柳叶眼 (pinyin: liuye yan). A long and slender eye shape. [return to text]
- In the original text, 无情道 (pinyin: wuqing dao), literally ‘path of no emotion’. A tradition found in Chinese cultivation (修真, pinyin: xiuzhen) novels. In this context, ‘cultivation’ refers to training in the mystical and/or martial arts in order to increase one’s longevity, improve one’s health, and gain quasi-supernatural powers. The ‘Loveless Path’ is a cultivation tradition whose adherents aim for absolute impartiality and rationality, and seek to free themselves from personal desires and attachments. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 