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Chapter Text

Guanyin said it was karma.

There stood the bodhisattva among dying flames and debris, a pristine figure amidst the destruction demons had wrought upon the Yang family home. Her holy light banished the beasts that brought them suffering, turning all to ash and bone. From the soot sprang lotus flowers that seemed to cover the vast earth, from the dust sprang stone pillars that seemed to hold the infinite sky. One could no longer tell if it was night or day as the scent of spring and the color of dawn bathed everything in the illusion of paradise.

“Worry not, my child,” said Guanyin, her tender voice echoing throughout the cosmos. “I have heard the planet’s cries. Your cries, too, have touched my heart with sorrow.”

The same holy light, in all its gentle radiance, brought Yang Yuhuan no comfort. She and her sisters survived, but the life she knew was already gone.

“Lady Guanyin,” little Yang Yuhuan mustered through sobs and tears, “why did Mama and Papa have to die?”

The bodhisattva answered with a sad sigh: “Like a drop that creates ripples across the surface of calm water, karma makes itself known beyond the boundaries of space and time. In a different world, the Yang family plucked life from the vine and savored it like fruit. Their desire was their downfall, so karma has come to reap what they have sown. It is a tragedy I have cried many oceans for. Oh, if only I arrived sooner… But I digress.”

These were things Yang Yuhuan would better learn in time. For now, Guanyin bent down and touched Yang Yuhuan’s face. Then the bodhisattva smiled, and the girl had never seen a woman so beautiful.

“What I mean to say, my child, is that one day you will be a very, very naughty girl. The planet is only doing its best to keep you from coming.”

“I'll be good!” Young Yang Yuhuan cried from the top of her lungs, her small frame shaking with violent emotion as she twisted her fistfuls of her skirt and choked on ash. “I promise I'll be good! I'll be good, I'll be so good—”

Because everything was her fault. All her parents did was love her. They loved her sisters, too, but Yang Yuhuan had a face no human or demon could resist.

Tonight, the demons came in droves.

The demons hungry for her spared no mercy for everyone who stood in their way. Their claws tore into tender flesh. Their teeth sank until the brittle bone. In their wake, they left nothing but the vile stench of bodies and blood.

Of her parents, nothing remained.

“—so please bring Mama and Papa back!”

Yang Yuhuan's small hands grasped at Guanyin's robes as streams of tears rolled down her red cheeks. Over and over, she begged for forgiveness.

“I'm sorry, so give Mama and Papa back.” The words trembled in her aching throat. “I'm sorry, so take me instead!”

But Guanyin could only look at the girl with sympathy.

“Why are you apologizing, my child?” she asked. “You did no wrong.”

“Mama and Papa are gone because I was bad. But if I’m bad, then I should be gone, too! I’m the reason Mama and Papa are dead, so why?” Yang Yuhuan's grip tightened, desperate for something to make sense in this world. “Why am I alive? Why did you save me?”

Yang Yuhuan was supposed to be dead. Of that, she was certain. But Guanyin’s radiance touched her soul, and the pearl Guanyin fed her brought life back to her body, the energy surging through her veins like the flames of a distant star.

For Guanyin’s benevolence, Yuhuan’s debt was infinite.

“Oh, poor child.” As Guanyin held the girl to her breast, the bodhisattva whispered this: “I am the one who hears the laments of the world. I cannot control the laws of nature, but I will answer all your prayers. Beings innumerable, I will save them all. Yang Yuhuan, you have yet to escape samsara. Let me be your guide to salvation.”

“If I follow you, will I see Mama and Papa again?”

“Of course. All souls will eventually meet in the land of paradise. Worry not; I will take you there soon enough. For now, we must write your story. You, with all your beauty, have so much to do in this world.”

Little Yuhuan rested her head on Guanyin's shoulder, and the bodhisattva gently stroked her hair like her mother would. Finally, she felt safe. “I don't want to be pretty. I want to be strong and kind like you.”

“My, was talking about your face? Heehee. You are a sweet girl, Yang Yuhuan. Even if your destiny is to disappear into sea foam, I pray that you will never change.”

Although Yuhuan blushed, her gaze never wavered. “I want to learn how to save people. Lady Guanyin, please teach me how.”

Seeing the girl’s determination, Guanyin lifted Yuhuan’s chin, brushed the stray strands of hair away from her face, and dried the last of her tears.

“Listen well, my child. One day, you will meet someone who will need your mercy.” Guanyin opened her hand and created a ball of light in her palm — small and fragile but ever so bright. “When that time comes, you must tell them these words.”

As Guanyin spoke, Yuhuan took her words to heart:

“I declare: thy body shall be under my command, my fate shall be determined by thy sword. Answer the call of the Holy Grail. If thou wouldst obey my will and reason...”

Chapter Text

Peach blossoms scattered across ponds and stone paths as another cool breeze rolled in from the east. It was spring in Chang’an, and the weather was perfect for a morning stroll. But there was no rest for those within the palace walls.

“Guards.”

The dignified voice startled those assigned to today’s morning patrol, sending a sudden icy jolt up their spines. It was a voice that, upon recognition, commanded them to stand at attention and answer in perfect unison.

“Your Highness!”

Gao Changgong.

The man before them shared a name with a famous general in history, his mind as brilliant as he was beautiful, all of his blessings hidden behind his horned mask. This was no coincidence in the least. From the peasants to the people of the inner palace, everyone knew he was no ancestor. One only needed to see his face to believe it: the young man with hair like wind-swept snow was the very Prince of Lanling himself.

When demons freely roamed the empire, Gao Changgong was his Master’s Saber and the emperor’s sword.

Now, he was his Master and emperor’s heir.

Many Tang princes had lost their lives since the outpouring of demons from hell, and Gao Changgong promised himself that none of their deaths would be in vain.

The crown prince often peered from behind his mask, his stern blue eyes with the power to command an army with a single glance, but at the guards and their behavior he could only sigh. Whether he covered his face or not, everyone was scared stiff at the sight of royalty. No matter where he went, some things never truly died. The least he could do, he supposed, was make the guards feel comfortable.

“Jin Dao, Yin Fang, there's no need to act so surprised. It makes me think you two are doing something illicit.”

The guards panicked.

“Uh, we can assure you that there is nothing illicit between us, Your Highness!”

“Yes! We have no illicit relations, Your Highness!”

The prince held back a chuckle. If anything, catching others off-guard can reveal the plainest truths.

“You might want to work on your phrasing. Have you seen the Prince of Liangshan?”

One of the guards, Jin Dao, stammered as if he had just heard the only question he wasn't prepared for. “No, Your Highness. Was he not with you?”

“I thought he'd be with Li Bai, but I found the poet in the gardens alone, ah, incapacitated by his choice of drink.”

“Hah, classic Li Bai!” Jin Dao laughed. Yin Fang gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs. “I mean, we shall look for the prince at once!”

“Please do.” As Gao Changgong nursed his growing headache, he hid his frustrations with a smile. “I’m counting on the Feathered Forest Guards. Your unit is far more reliable than the— Ah, pardon me. In any case, we must hurry. The council can be impatient.”

All the palace guards and attendants searched high and low for the Prince of Liangshan, but he was neither in the pavilions wooing court ladies with his songs, nor in the training grounds sparring with soldiers barehanded. Little did they know that today, away from the eyes of the court, the prince preferred the bustling streets of the capital.

“That should be the last of ‘em!”

Yan Qing unloaded the final box of deliveries from the cart and dusted off his hands. He was shorter than his peers, but he was a handsome young man with eyes like jade, hair like ink, and a face like the moon. In contrast, his body was built like a god of war, evoking the image of ink-washed mountains — or so the rumors said. Whenever the city boys and girls asked him to shrug off his robes and show them his strength, he always refused. That didn’t stop the imaginations of men and women alike. Even now, as he wiped the sweat off his brow, the slip of his sleeve showing the slightest sliver of tattooed skin, he could have sworn he heard a chorus of sighs from across the street.

“It’s very kind of you to help us, Yan Qing,” said the fabric shop owner. “Things have been hard since our son… well, you know the rest.”

“He was a soldier, right? One of our best, I remember.”

The Tang dynasty was a period of peace and prosperity. The only true threats to the empire were monsters and demons. This man was one of the many who lost their sons to beasts beyond their comprehension.

It was the same in every era. Yan Qing smiled in a way that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. Even in peacetime, it seems, fathers can miss their children.

“No problem, gramps. Chin up, alright? You got nothing to worry about as long as I'm around!”

“Big words from a young man!” The shop owner chuckled. “Don't worry about me about this old coot. You should be worried about finding a bride. At this rate, I think the crown prince might beat you to it!”

Yan Qing laughed with his whole chest. “Gao— I mean, the crown prince has got all the luck in the world. Me? I'm a lost cause. The only woman for me is Guanyin herself!”

“I didn’t know you were religious,” said the shop owner.

“I’m not. In case you couldn't tell, gramps, I’m a very sinful man. I’m so handsome, so clever, and so generous to boot! It should be a crime to be this goddamn perfect. It'll take a bodhisattva to wear me down, if you know what I mean.”

The old man clicked his tongue in jest. “I’d tell you to hurry up and join the monastery, but everyone would miss you too much!”

This time, Yan Qing's laugh was sheepish. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

Yan Qing went about his every day in the capital like this, mingling with the citizens of Chang'an. He drank with Han poets who weaved their words in the clouds and danced with the Sogdian girls who twirled and kicked their feet in the air. He listened to the debates of scholars from Japan and sermons of preachers from Persia. He bargained with Turkic and Arab merchants alike for their silk, saddles, glass, and gold.

Everyone knew what Yan Qing liked, but no one knew who Yan Qing was. He liked that they didn't. People outside the palace walls were far more interesting than any greedy noble or ambitious bureaucrat.

Yan Qing liked to think he was particularly good with children. While walking around the eastern marketplace, admiring the newly planted fruit trees along the avenue, he found a teenage girl perusing the selections of a sweet-smelling food stall. He knew everyone who frequented the markets of Chang’an, but he couldn't recognize anything about her — not her bangles, not her ribbons, not even the huadian pattern on her forehead. She must be new in town. Her pigtails bounced as she tilted her head, troubled by the indecision in her fingers and the coins in her hand, which made it very tempting for him to eat whichever snack she liked the most.

He liked being helpful, but he never claimed to be a saint.

“You need a hand, kid?” he asked.

The girl scowled.

“Not a child. Anger. You, nuisance. Eliminating.” She swatted at him with her small fists.

Yan Qing dodged and raised his hands in an attempt to pacify her. “Woah, woah! Okay, big guy. I was just asking.”

The girl huffed and held her chin up high. “Communication with unknown variables, outside directive’s scope.”

“Uh, your directive being…?”

Her face was solemn. “To defeat a dragon.”

When she punched him again, he caught her fist in his palm.

“Uh huh.” Yan Qing let go before he angered her twice. “Hate to break it to you, boss, but I’m no dragon. Pretty sure buying youtian’s got nothing to do with dragons either.”

She blushed like the flower painted on her forehead as she struggled for an answer. “Eat to fight. Eat to live. Food for students. Food for Teacher. I will feed Teacher’s dream.”

Yan Qing hummed in thought, reminded of a certain cold, winter night.

“Okay.”

The girl blinked in confusion. “What okay.”

He answered with a pile of coins from his pouch and offered them to the vendor. “Hey, mister! The boss wants thirty! This is enough, right?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Ah, but— Payment—”

But Yan Qing waved her worries away with a smile. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. This is just the… what should I call it? The duty of a good man. I feel like Chai Jin already. Hahahaha!”

The girl stood there, dumbfounded by the generous gesture.

“Demon,” she finally said. “Or so I thought. But, not demon. Human. Very human. But, not human. Hmm. Assessing danger.”

“Hey, don’t be mean. Is that what your teacher taught you? Hahaha.” But it wasn't the first time kids had been mean, so Yan Qing took her comments in stride. “Looks like you can take it from here, so I’m gonna go ahead. Say hi to your teacher for me.”

For the first time, the stone-faced girl smiled. “Will do. Yes!”

The Jiuyang Restaurant was a new shop that opened in the west of Chang’an, nestled in the corner of one of the city’s busier intersections. Although it wasn’t the sort of establishment that required month-long reservations in advance, it was nonetheless a popular destination for people from all walks of life. However, Yan Qing was an impatient man. He reserved a spot to cut through the lines. He had to be there. It had to be today.

The year was 740, and the Yang family was never more fortunate.

As Yan Qing was ushered to his table, a private one behind a divider in the corner of the restaurant, his senses were greeted by the lovely sight and lively song of a waitress as she flitted between tables across the room. The moment he heard her, he laughed, clapped, and finally understood why patrons often wanted an encore of food and song.

“Nine suns, one bow laid all crows to rest

Back home, Houyi has wine and chicken breast!”

Her name was Yang Yuhuan. She had eyes like stars, a song like a phoenix, and a smile like peonies in full bloom. She, too, was a blooming maiden, jovial and exuberant as she made each customer feel a unique love they would cherish long after they’d leave. Warm, friendly, and loved by everyone — she was exactly how he imagined her before she became Emperor Xuanzong’s beloved consort.

This was Yang Yuhuan, one of the greatest villains in the history of the Tang dynasty.

The beauty who received the affection of three thousand consorts. The talent that charmed the Tang emperor. The face that brought down an entire nation. Yan Qing would have to be a fool to fall into her trap, but this Yuhuan had yet to see the palace.

Yan Qing wanted to keep it that way.

“Hi! I'm Yuyu and I'll be your server today. Are you ready to order?”

But with one word, all his confidence and charisma vanished. Suddenly, being so handsome, so clever, and so goddamn generous didn’t mean a thing when you still can't spit a word out. Finally, finally, Yan Qing was talking to the woman he thought he’d only ever find in words on a page.

Yang Yuhuan — her face brought even flowers to shame.

“Yeah! Uh, yeah.” Yan Qing was not normally so clumsy with words. He thought he’d be used to being starstruck by now. “I'll have the… spicy chicken?”

“Spicy!” She jotted his order down on a small sheet. “You do look like a spice guy. The kind that likes ‘em a little feisty! I'll have it ready in a bit. Anything else?”

By her last question, Yuhuan hunched her shoulders. She was on guard, and naturally so. She was a pretty face, and the customers were not only here for the food.

Yan Qing didn’t care about that now. He looked around for other faces — her cousins, her sisters. “Your family’s not from around here, are they?”

From the corner of his eye, Yan Qing saw Yuhuan sigh with relief. “Nope. The Jiuyang Restaurant used to be in Uncle and Auntie's hometown. It’s a small town, so business wasn't going so well there. But one day, we got a huuuuge subsidy from the Prince of Liangshan and a place to stay in the capital! So Uncle quit his job and we all moved to Chang'an. We set up the restaurant here, and people have been flocking to our shop ever since!”

Yang Yuhuan spoke with little excited gestures, helping Yan Qing imagine their small shop and big move to the city, the stars in her eyes never dying.

“Sorry! I got a little excited there. Usually people just try to write me poetry.”

“It’s all good. Wait, were they any good?”

Yuhuan shook her head with a smile that was both sheepish and devilish, and Yan Qing guffawed.

“Bwahahaha! Oh, man. They oughta make that a crime.”

“All bad poetry must be burned! All suitors must be buried!”

When Yuhuan preened at her own impersonation of the First Emperor, Yan Qing couldn’t help but grin back. Her mood was contagious.

“You sound pretty happy. Is that how city life’s been treating ya?”

“Um… The people aren't as friendly, I think, but, but! Guoguo-jie, Guozhong-ge — everyone helps out in running Jiuyang Restaurant. We don’t have to worry about money, and everyone is finally getting along. I couldn't ask for more!” She paused to count on her fingers. “Wait, there is one thing. Two more things. Maybe three.” A thought filled her face with a burning color, and she quickly shook her head. “No, nevermind! It's embarrassing.”

Embarrassing? So there were things that embarrassed her? Forgetting himself, Yan Qing turned his chair around and sat in what princes would call a very undignified manner. “Oh, now you gotta tell me. It's only the two of us here, and I'm very, very good at keeping secrets. Well, I say that, but it just means I got no one to tell.”

“No one?” Worry creased her brows. “Don't you get lonely?”

Yan Qing shook his head, his plastic smile still plastered on his face. “Lonely?”

“I mean, I tell Guanyin my secrets all the time. It's not the same as having friends, but… Don't you have someone like that, too?”

No. Loneliness was for jobless drunkards who had nothing to do with their time. Loneliness was for maidens dreaming of love from pages of prose and rhyme. Loneliness was a feeling that ate you from within if you ever felt its void, a sad burning flame that would not hesitate to consume you at your prime.

Yan Qing had places to be. He could not afford to feel lonely.

“When you get older, you start getting more secrets to keep. Then one day, you start losing track of which secrets to tell.” His smile turned sheepish. “Well, it ain’t something you should be thinking about now. Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Yuhuan huffed. “I don’t think I’m much younger than you!”

“You don’t know that. You’re talking to the hottest guy in the city.”

“Hmm.” She looked him up and down with a narrow gaze, sizing him up. “My type’s a little less Liu Bei and a little more Lu Bu.”

“Damn, you sell chicken with that mouth?” said Yan Qing, feigning offense. “I bet you’re a real Diaochan, then.”

“Yeah…” Yuyu held her sheets of paper close to her chest. “I’m as awful as Diaochan, aren’t I?”

Yan Qing parted his lips, but he wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t give him away. The Yang sisters spare him the trouble. From the kitchen, they warned Yuhuan about chatting with the other customers, so off Yuhuan went, ready to pass the order to her sisters and aunt. Her sister Guoguo served Yan Qing peanuts and wine, and he let himself fade into the crowd as he watched customers enjoy themselves at one of Chang’an’s latest stories of success.

Though Yuhuan never told him her dreams, maybe they didn’t matter. History would be better off if Yuhuan never wanted for anything. Everything she needed was already here. So long as the Yang family remained content with their lives, the greedy Yang Guifei would never exist. Yang Guozhong would never covet, An Lushan would never rebel, and the Tang empire would remain standing tall.

All the world needed to know was plain, innocent Yuyu, who brought in his order not a moment too soon.

“Here's your order, Mister! One bowl of chicken with chilies—”

But Yang Yuhuan's smile suddenly fell, and she turned her head toward the entrance.

“Um, please, sir. Please, please wait. Sir, there’s a line—”

“Hah! Is that how you treat the son of an official?”

It was Haughty Jin. He and his entourage of misfits were the sons of rich men who lived near the center of the capital. All the customers drew back in fear as they entered the restaurant with swagger, ignoring Yang Guozhong's pathetic pleas for them to return to the line. When the young men weren't pretending to study for their exams, they terrorized the streets of the capital, picking on whoever can give them their fill of fun.

Today, it was Yan Qing.

“You’re sitting in my spot," said Haughty Jin.

“Well, I don't see your name on it," said Yan Qing. “As far as I'm concerned, it can be everyone's spot if they put their minds to it! Which is what you're doing, I'm aware. But! Technically, after all is said and done, it is Yuyu's spot so you might wanna ask—”

One of Haughty Jin's bigger friends grabbed a fistful of Yan Qing’s robes and dangled him in the air by the collar.

“—her.”

Then, he shoved him aside.

Yan Qing fell to the floor. With his table now unoccupied, Haughty Jin and his friends began to fill the seats in his corner of the restaurant. One of them sat with their feet on the table. One of them knocked Yuhuan away with their elbows. Another pried Yan Qing's bowl of chicken from Yuhuan's hands.

“Hey, that's not yours!” she exclaimed.

“What? We're all paying customers here. I like the good food, the fast service. You should be glad we even eat here!”

Haughty Jin began scarfing down his chicken. He would later regret doing this, and one of his friends fetched him a cup of water as he choked on a spicy chicken strip. “You call this food? It's a goddamn health hazard! My father, the administrator of the western marketplace, will hear about this!”

Yang Yuhuan paid him no attention. Instead, she checked on Yan Qing, who still tried to smile as he winced in pain.

“Yuyu,” he said, stomach still flat on the floor, “you think these ones are spice guys?”

Yang Yuhuan made a cross gesture with her arms. “One hundred percent no. I'd never, ever lump you together with Ugly Jin. Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even like spicy chicken!”

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Let me help you take out the trash, yeah?”

“But garbage day isn’t until tomor—”

But even as the words left her lips, Yang Yuhuan had no idea what she was about to see next.

While still on the ground, Yan Qing knocked a chair away from under a crony's bottom with a sweeping kick. In one fluid motion he was back on his feet, and Haughty Jin's men weren't having it. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip.

“I guess a good man never rests, but…” He brushes a loose lock of hair away from his face. “Heh! Nah, now I’m just looking for a little fun. It’s been a while since I’ve done a little five on one. Don’t let me down now!”

A fight was something he'd never tire of.

Yan Qing weaved his way around each blow like a swift and changing wind, dodging with incredible speed that confounded his opponents. A punch meant for him landed in the face of his enemy. A kick to his ribs connected with the stomach of the other. Yan Qing struck whenever he could, but with how eager they were to attack blindly, he didn't have to. He was a storm of discord, spinning anger and chaos among his opponents as they tried to harm him — to no avail.

Yet the fighting was nowhere close to an end. As customers backed away from the commotion, Yang Yuhuan wondered what she could do. Guanyin's guidance showed her how to fight, but she never had the chance to put it to practice. Saving anyone wasn't exactly in her stars. She was weak. These men were bigger, stronger, and more than she could ever handle. Yan Qing was amazing for standing up to them alone. She didn't know if she ever could.

But she couldn’t just give up.

At the spot where Yan Qing fell, Yang Yuhuan found something peculiar, and yet familiar. Something in her mind clicked, and she grabbed the object and held it to her lips.

The shrill, piercing sound of a single bamboo flute.

With a single note, Yang Yuhuan brought everything to a stop.

With a single note, Yang Yuhuan drove Haughty Jin's cronies out of the restaurant.

She ran at them and chased them with the same sound, her incessant playing enough to make the young men cover their ears and whine for their mothers. Between the injuries, the confusion, and the pain, the cacophony of a sharp, redundant noise drove them mad.

Which left Haughty Jin alone and defenseless.

“Jin Jiansu.” Yan Qing spoke his name like the sound of blades against a whetstone. “I hear your brother’s in the imperial guard. That’s a high honor! Now, what have you been doing lately?”

Haughty Jin’s face blanched. “Sh-shut up! Wait until I tell my father—!”

Yan Qing scrunched his nose up. It was the only thing he could do to stop himself from cringing. “Mm, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Yan Qing raised his fist, and before Haughty Jin could embarrass himself any further, he ran out the door and left Jiuyang Restaurant forever.

There was an uncertain silence. Then, everyone cheered. Amidst the shaking of hands and mirthful fanfare, though, Yan Qing was soon nowhere to be found. He was back at his table, sitting behind the divider that separated him from the rest of the world. From where Yuhuan stood, he seemed almost immortal.

Summoning a breath of courage, Yang Yuhuan stepped back into the quiet and returned the flute to Yan Qing.

“Sorry, I used it without thinking...” And people often scolded her for doing things without thinking. She braced herself for the impact, or at least a moment of anger, but all Yan Qing did was reach out to ruffle her bangs.

“Nah, you did a lot of thinking. More thinking than I did, hahaha!”

People often showered her with praise. Not once did they ever dare touch her. Yuhuan’s hand hovered over the spot he had touched, pretending to fix it to let the feeling linger.

“But you knew that guy’s family and everything! Who knew a fist, a flute and a few words was all it took to take a bully down?” She bounced on her heels. “Can you teach me how to do that too, Master Yan?”

“Hey, hey, none of this Master and mister stuff. Just call me Yan Qing, okay? Honestly, I wish it only took a few words, too. That fight was kinda boring. Now I’m really starving.” He finally sat at his table to enjoy his lunch, only to find that his bowl had nothing but chilies. “Great.”

“Don’t worry, Master Ya—I mean, Yan Qing! You already did the restaurant a huge favor today. I’ll whip up another bowl as soon as I can, so don’t you leave! Yuyu’s special dish will be on the hou—”

Before she could punctuate her sentence with a full stop, Yuhuan's stomach did the job for her. Behind the room divider that shielded him and her from the rest of the world, her stomach growled like a snoring dragon in a deep slumber under the sea.

He stared. She froze.

For ten whole seconds, they were both silent.

Then, Yan Qing held back a chuckle as Yang Yuhuan turned as pink as a peach. Suddenly, he couldn’t even remember why he was nervous around her.

“You gotta stop skipping breakfast, Yuyu. You know it's the most important meal of the day.”

“Aaaaah!” Yang Yuhuan held her face in shame as she muffled her panicked squeals. “That wasn't me! Aaah! That wasn't me! I mean, how could you believe it was me? There's no way I'd forget to eat before, after or during my shift! That fight took a lot out of me. Yes, my standby energy! I was so entranced by your fighting form that my standby energy is all gone! I'm not hungry!” A beat. “But if you ever need a taste tester—”

Yan Qing cackled. “I'll just give you a tip, thanks. I'll make sure to bring a snack next time. Should I tell my friends to give you one, too?”

Yang Yuhuan squeaked. “Shut up or I'll eat your food, please!”

Yan Qing's gaze softened as he erupted in genuine laughter. This was the Yuhuan the Tang empire needed. Of that, he was absolutely sure.

But in the end, he knew this wouldn’t last.

“Yuhuan, quick!” Guoguo peeked into the room and hurried her sister with a wave. “Come outside! It's a messenger from the palace!”

Yang Yuhuan tilted her head to listen for the sound. “Do they want spicy chicken, too? Hey mister, let's go check it out!”

But when she turned around, Yan Qing was gone. All he left behind was a string of payment and a fine bamboo flute.

It was better this way. He didn’t need to see her face to know what they were about to say.

“By imperial decree: following the results of the imperial throne’s search, the emperor hereby declares Yang Yuhuan the bride of Gao Changgong, the Prince of Lanling and heir to the throne—”

It was almost noon when Yan Qing arrived at the palace. No longer clad in plain robes, Yan Qing looked more like the serious statesmen of the royal court. Every imperial attendant, eunuch, courtier and guard greeted him as he made his way past buildings, gardens, and long winding halls, his hair trailing behind him like a horse's mane. With how the council often argued amongst themselves, he should be able to make it before the final verdict.

They took long enough, it seemed, for the guards stationed to lose focus.

“Oh, Jin Dao. What are you dozing off for?”

The imperial guard's eyes snapped open and went wide. “Y-your Highness! You're here!”

“Of course, haha. Where else would I be?” Step by step, Yan Qing approached the guard, his smile unwavering. “Is this what you’ll tell your brother when you get home? That you fell asleep standing up on duty?”

“No, Your Highness! I was awake, Your High—”

“Yes, yes. We’ve heard it all before. What else do I need to know?”

“The crown prince was looking for you. But the trial has already begun—”

“Not exactly a trial if the defendant’s got no defense, is it?”

“Ah, um, I don’t know. Is it?” The guard shook his head and, as Yan Qing tried to enter, blocked him in his path. “Please wait, Your Highness! Princess Taiping said you can’t—”

“Hey, Jin Dao.” His cool drawl rolled off his tongue like blood down a spear. “What’s my name?”

The guard gulped and held still as he recited the words he committed to memory: “Yan Qing the Prodigy, the Prince of Liangshan and the Second Imperial Prince of the Tang Empire.”

“Good, good.” Though Yan Qing patted the guard on the back like he would a friend, his tone and cadence were like a dagger pointed at the neck. “You remember. I’m glad we’re on the page.”

As the doors to the hall opened, Yan Qing greeted the emperor, his heir, and his council with open arms.

“Master— No, Your Majesty! Very sorry that I’m late.”