Page 1 of Empire's Curse

1

Daiyu wasin love with a dead man.

At least that’s what she told herself as she collected wild jasmine and bright orchids from the colorful field before her. She placed the flowers in her overfilled, handwoven basket and continued through the thicket of bright blues and fuchsias. The early morning breeze sent a ripple across the bowing florae, carrying a sweet scent in its wake.

Lanfen, Daiyu’s younger sister, smoothed down her worn, pale-yellow skirt with one hand and plucked an orange orchid with the other. “Don’t you think that’s enough?” she asked as she slipped the flower in Daiyu’s basket. “I’m not sure if Heng will appreciateallthese flowers.”

Daiyu frowned at her brimming basket. “Heng loved flowers.”

“No, he loved going herewithyou, not to see the flowers. He couldn’t have cared less about”—Lanfen motioned toward the surrounding field—“all of this.”

“Heng loved coming here with me, but he also loved the flowers.”

“He’s already …” Her younger sister shrugged, letting the words hang. “I don’t know. I don’t think it matters too much.”

“It matters.” Daiyu tightened her hold on the bamboo basket. It mattered to her, at least.

“It’s been four years already.”

“I know.” She had heard this a million times already, from Lanfen, her parents, and even her brothers. Everyone wanted her to move on, but how could she do that when Heng had been such a big part of her life for years? “You didn’t have to come here.”

Lanfen touched one of the long clusters of wild grass brushing her hips. “Do you really think he cares about any of this? I truly don’t. But if it makes you feel better, all the more reason to do it.”

Daiyu turned away from her, suddenly tired. Her younger sister had only been eleven when the war had ended and Heng never returned, so she probably didn’t remember—or care—for him like Daiyu had.

They made their way to a familiar plum blossom tree with Heng’s name etched into the ancient bark. Daiyu traced the inscription with the pads of her fingers, her chest growing heavy. Below his name, she could barely make out the characters of her own name. Neither of them knew how to read or write, but when a traveling merchant had passed through their village, Heng had begged him to teach him how to write his name and Daiyu’s. He had then taught Daiyu her name. The memory tightened something in her chest as she ran her fingers over the rough bark.

When Heng had gone missing during the war, she had come here and torn off the bark until her fingers had bled. Because the promise on the tree—that they would be together forever—was a lie.

Swallowing down the thickness in her throat, Daiyu placed the flowers they had collected at the base of the tree. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer. That Heng was finally at peace, even as his body was likely buried beside hundreds of other unnamed soldiers. Even as he and his fellow brothers-in-arms had ultimately lost the war.

They stayed there for a little while longer until the breezekicked up their offering and spread it back to the fields. Until the sadness ebbed away and Daiyu could finally breathe steadily again.

“Let’s go back.” Daiyu looped the now-empty basket in her arm.

They were silent as they headed back home. Lanfen fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve and kicked up pebbles on the dirt path toward the village. Along the way, they picked mushrooms with wide, flat caps and thick stems until their basket was filled once more. They walked past the terraced rice paddies with farmers tending to them, their shins sloshing through silty, watered soil. Daiyu waved to the familiar villagers and neighbors she had known her whole life.

Lanfen pushed a strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped from her bun. “I heard from Auntie Ju that farmer Bi Gan is looking for a bride for his son.”

“Hm.” Daiyu gave her sister a side-look. They slowed down the cobbled street with splashes of muddied water sprayed across the mismatched, discolored stones. “Is he now?”

“Yes, and you know how wealthy he is, right? Probably richer than people in the capital, don’t you think?”

Bi Gan was the village’s wealthiest man, but in terms of wealth throughout the empire, he didn’t compare. Daiyu had seen the affluence of the capital when she had traveled there with Father to sell some of their rice. The wealth there had shocked her. Men and women dressed in vibrant silks, women sat in colorfully painted sedans as men carried them, and even the carriages looked so different from the wagons she was used to. Not to mention the sheer amount of jewelry and hairpins that glittered off everyone. Farmer Bi Gan’s wealth seemed abysmal compared to everything she had seen.

“Where are you going with this?” Daiyu asked as they made their way through the forested area behind their home, away from the rice paddies and closer to their bamboo-fenced yard. “Are you looking to marry his son?”

“What? No!” Lanfen’s expression soured. “You know I’m not interested in marriage so soon.”

Daiyu gave her a pointed look as they approached their yard. “And neither am I.”

“But …” Lanfen lifted her shoulders, casting a wayward glance at the tall trees canopying the path. Tendrils of sunlight slipped through the covering of branches and leaves and made the browns of her eyes appear honey-gold. “You deserve to be happy. Don’t you want that?”

“Lanfen,” she said as gently as she could, “I’m happy?—”

“He would want you to.”

She cringed; the only man she was meant to marry was Heng, and he was dead, so she wasn’t keen on the idea of romance anymore. Her family had pestered her over the years, and she hadn’t relented, so she wasn’t going to change her mind now.

---