Page 58 of A Song to Drown Rivers
I treaded on carefully, as though over ice. “I can help you smooth things over,” I said. “I was born in Yue, after all, and am more familiar with their customs. And King Goujian is a reasonable man. We’d need only explain that Zhengdan had committed a grievous crime first. This need not devolve into something terrible. I am only afraid, well…”
“Afraid of what?”
“It sounds awful, I know, but…” Again I hesitated on purpose, pursed my lips. “Whoever advised this course of action seems notto have the interests of the Wu in mind. It is almost as if… theywishto spark a war.” There was no need to specify who. It could only be Wu Zixu.
His gaze sharpened. He sat upright in an instant, his black hair lightly mussed and falling over his eyes. He raked an irritable hand through it. “What are you saying?”
“I have already said too much.”
“No, I want you to tell me the truth.” More quietly, he added, “There is nobody around me I can trust.”
If this were any other day, I would have felt a dull stab of guilt. But Zhengdan’s blood still lingered on my fingers. Fanli’s silhouette still burned in my mind. As it was, I did not even flinch. “I was passing by the Hall of Celestial Harmony yesterday night when I heard this male voice…” I conveniently omitted the fact that I had passed by on purpose, having received notice from Xiaomin that Wu Zixu was there. “I could not quite place who the voice belonged to, only what they were saying. But the State of Chu came up.”
Alarm rippled over Fuchai’s face. “The State of Chu?”
“Something about it being the right opportunity, if everything went to plan… I did not pay it too much attention at the time, and perhaps I am wrong to think anything of it now—perhaps they were referring to some kind of trade. Yet I cannot help wondering… If the Wu and the Yue were to be reengaged in battle, who would stand to gain the greatest advantage?” I had finished weaving my embroidery. Now I could only hold my breath and pray he recognized the picture within it.
“That is… interesting indeed.” His features were cast in shadow, so it was difficult to decipher his expression. But then he stood, brushing his robes, and muttered under his breath: “And here I thought Zixu had cut all ties with the Chu. He had sworn it.”
I feigned surprise. “Zi-Zixu? As in… your advisor, Zixu?”
“The very one.”
“Surely not,” I said, clapping a hand to my heart. How naive I must have appeared, how wonderfully guileless. “Even though he’s always been very adamant on conquering the Yue, surely he wouldn’t goso far—and he is respected by many for his wise counsel to your father…”
The corner of Fuchai’s lips twisted. His father had always been a sore subject, a constant wound in his pride. Sometimes you had to know precisely where to rub the salt. “My father may have trusted him. That doesn’t mean I should.”
I could almost see the poisonous seeds I’d planted sprouting before me, their darkness blooming in his mind. Trust was such a fragile thing; it took decades to consolidate, seconds to shatter, and a lifetime to repair again. I hid a smile. If the ministers called me a fox spirit, a witch—then a witch I would be. Whatever it took. “Come,” I said, pulling him back to me and drawing down the veil of the canopy bed, so all our world was covered in red silk and thread. “Do not fret over it now, my king. We can always discuss again when the morning comes.”
He sighed, massaging his temples. “It’s all so exhausting.”
“I know,” I said. It was time for the next step of my plan. “What do you say we take a pleasure trip somewhere? Just the two of us? I’ve heard so much about the beautiful canals of the capital, yet I’m afraid I haven’t had many chances to admire them.”
“A pleasure trip,” he repeated.
I waited, my heart thrumming like an eagle desperate for flight.
“Yes, that sounds wonderful,” he said. “I will ask them to prepare a boat.”
“Perfect.” With that, I pressed my lips gently to his, sealing the poison within him.
When morning came, the boat had already been readied and docked outside the palace gates. It was made of a bright red wood so polished that it shone, and the side was carved into the shape of a dragon’s undulating body, every individual scale etched into that glossy surface, its tail flaring out like flames. In motion, I imagined it looked like a real dragon diving in and out of the waters, its head reaching up from the emerald waves.
The trip was meant to be a private one, but as always, the king and I were not really alone. Among the crew on the boat were three maids, three servants, two chefs, a seamstress, a fisherman, and two experienced helmsmen who took turns with the oars. I was equally worried the boat would not be able to hold all our weight and curious as to how the seamstress would even serve her purpose.
“Where to?” Fuchai asked as the boat rocked back from the docks.
Home, I wanted to say, but I knew it was the one place I could not return to. Not yet.
“Anywhere,” I said, breathing in. The air smelled like brine, like unshed rain. “Take me somewhere beautiful.”
And so we went. The hour was early enough that a fine mist still hung over everything like a spell, softening the edges of the stone banks and arched bridges. Ancient buildings rose up around us, their walls a faded gray-white and covered with thick, crawling ivy. The sky shaded to a rose blush, then to a pale cornflower blue.
I sat by the very edge, as far as I could go without danger of falling overboard, letting the breeze whip my face. White foam frothed from the splashing oars, and the slow lull of the boat was almost a comfort. It was all fresh air, wide open space, the canals running to the end of the world. I could pretend the palace was gone, could act like there were no kingdom gates to hold me, only—
“What are you thinking about?” Fuchai’s voice broke through the peace.
Only it was all an illusion.I had come here for a purpose, not pleasure. “Just… remembering,” I said. Villagers filled the paths around the canals, noblewomen and vendors and scholars fanning themselves as they walked. Customers wove in and out of the stalls, buying slices of honeydew and jade trinkets and grasshoppers in little bamboo cages. Black smoke billowed from woks.Smoke and salt: It was how the poets always described the mortal realm. I could smell it, taste it on my tongue. The boat drifted on. We passed by a little girl carrying bolts of silk in her scrawny arms; the fabric was piled so high it nearly blocked her whole face from view. Yet her steps over the damp tiles were sure and steady.
