ZE ZHI WEI (萴智危)

  Day 4, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Shuishang Province, Huadu Sect

  I covered my arm with the edge of my robe, gritting my teeth as the pain from the chemical burn flared again. It sizzled against the dampness in the air. It didn't help that some rain had appeared out of nowhere. Shuishang Province definitely lived up its name. The moisture clung to my skin, soaking through the thin layers of cloth. I tightened my grip around the rice paper book in my arms and pressed it close to my chest. I couldn’t let it get wet.

  “Goodness! Come in!” a voice sweet like honey called out.

  An Lingqi.

  I looked up and saw her standing on the veranda of her clinic, framed by the mist and soft grey drizzle. She was dressed in white, and ribbons swirled around her waist to accentuate her slender form. She really was a celestial maiden descended from the heavens.

  I pushed forward quickly, careful not to slip as the path turned muddy. Orange clay and crushed petals stuck to my boots as I ran up the stairs. The air smelled like rain and crushed herbs, the fragrance stronger the closer I came to her.

  “Blossom Deity An Lingqi,” I said trying to keep my voice even as I bowed in acknowledgment.

  “Captain Ze Zhiwei,” she said. “Please call me Lingqi.”

  I followed her into the hut as she returned to checking her bubbling clay pots. The place reeked of ginseng and burnt aniseed. I pinched my nose with a free hand.

  “It’s just Zhiwei.” After so many years, I had thought being formal was best. But we were still fellow disciples.

  The Blossom Deity cast me a glance. “Sorry about the smell.” She dusted her hands on her apron. “What brings you here?”

  How much should I say? Out of all the people I had tested to see who I could trust, I had never questioned An Lingqi’s affiliations. And whether she was aligned with the Empress in anyway. But one thing was for sure, no one could know how I got this burn.

  “My arm has been injured,” I replied quietly, choosing my words with care.

  She turned to me, and though I kept my eyes low, I could feel her stunningly beautiful gaze as she analysed me for other injuries. Something about the way she looked at people made it feel like she saw everything, even things they didn’t know about themselves.

  “How did you injure it?” she asked. Her voice was even and soft, like silk smoothed over stone. She moved to sit beside me on the long couch and extended both hands in a silent, expectant gesture.

  I hesitated before offering her my arm. Slowly, I rolled up the dark green sleeve, revealing the wound that still glowed faintly. She touched the edge of it with her magic, her fingers not quite brushing skin, but the sensation still sparked through me. I bit down hard and tried not to react.

  An Lingqi frowned slightly at the pattern that the wound had made. A unique pattern indeed. I had seen many cuts and marks made by weapons on the battlefield, but poison marks were the most intricate. I glanced at the glowing burn on my arm. It had swirls and tessellated patterns like a brand.

  An Lingqi traced the edge of a swirl with her finger. I flinched, just a little, and the glow of the wound pulsed under her touch.

  Then she looked up, meeting my eyes. My breath caught in my throat. Her hand moved to my forehead, cool and light. She’s so close. Too close. Her scent—fresh, faintly herbal, like sweet rain in summer—was all around me. I clenched my fist and hoped my face wasn’t betraying me. My skin felt like it was burning.

  As last, she seemed satisfied and she retracted, taking her enchanting beauty with her.

  Looking like that should be a sin.

  “No fever it seems. You seem quite well,” she said as she faced me with that alluring smile. “I’ll fix you right up.”

  I rubbed my chest, as subtly as I could. My heart was hammering. This was not the time to be flustered. I was here to get my wound treated without her finding out how I got my wound. And for the monkshood.

  “Thank you,” I managed.

  “No problem,” she called, as she began sorting through the many shelves and drawers of medicinal herbs. Her sleeves were stained with brown, most likely from some herbal concoction, but somehow it only made her more radiant, not less.

  I stood a short distance behind her, reading the jar labels one by one, wondering how best to ask.

  Eventually, I murmured, “Do you know what monkshood is?”

  She didn't turn around. “Why do you ask?”

  A lie easily spilled from me. “My mother said it helped with her headaches. I wanted to see it for myself.”

  It was a terrible lie. Not just because it was a lie, but because I was talking to the best apothecary in all the realms. I cursed myself for letting my mouth move before my brain.

  But she offered me a graceful expression. And the charming sparkles in her burnt-toffee eyes remained.

  She handed me a glass phial. “This is a salve that you should put on your wound twice a day. When your wound begins to show improvement, put it on once every three days.

  ““I’m not entirely sure what caused the wound,” she continued, “but there’s a heavy amount of yīn in it. Even though your body carries yīn-nature, it couldn’t absorb this much cold.” She pointed at the salve. “This is pure yáng. Don’t play with it.”

  I fingered the glass phial in my sweaty hand. “Thank you.”

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  “Please tell your mother that monkshood is a deadly poison,” she said as fingered the handle of one of the drawers. I could swear that was the drawer where she kept her poisonous plants.

  She continued, “Tell her not to meddle with it, it is too dangerous to use it for medicinal purposes. If she wants something to soothe her headache, ask her to come to me.”

  I nodded.

  She produced another one of her beautiful smiles. “I must check the herbs I’m boiling. Feel free to leave whenever you like.”

  As she walked off, her lush auburn locks that had been secured in a bun, fell across her back. They swayed like a hypnotic pendulum as she padded away, her footsteps soft and silent like an assassin.

  She’s like some aphrodisiac.

  I quickly moved to the open window, hoping the rain swept wind would cool my burning cheeks. Whilst I waited for the heat within me to freeze off, I watched her reflection in the glass windowpane.

  She was looking away from me.

  As well as the shelves.

  This was my chance. No time for lust.

  Slipping across the wooden floorboards, and being cautious not to make a sound, I made it to her shelves. Where was that monkshood? I opened each drawer, searching for purple.

  It was the second last drawer that I opened which gave me what I wanted. Dried monkshood, perfectly ready to be crushed into a powder. I stuffed four phials of it into the hidden pocket at my waist, just as she came around the corner.

  “You probably have some in your house, but these are just some extras,” she said, handing me white bandages. “Make sure you change them every day.”

  I accepted them, willing my hand to still from the adrenaline rush. Why was it so hard to sneak around? I could feel her watching as I placed the item into my left arm sleeve. Her gaze fell onto the unusual bulge below my cloth belt.

  The Blossom Deity cleared her throat and averted my eyes.

  At any other circumstance, her assertion would’ve been right. Especially with all the angelic smiles she had been giving me.

  But it’s not what you think, An Lingqi.

  I needed her to think of something other than this disaster of a social situation. “Can you show me how to bandage my wounds?”

  Golden eyes flashed at me. “I thought with your years in the army, you would know.”

  How she managed to remain undisturbed and unfazed by my erratic excuses—that even I was doubting—only added to my discomfort down below.

  She isn’t just like an aphrodisiac. She is an aphrodisiac.

  An Lingqi pointed to a chair. “Please.”

  I obeyed willingly, mostly because if I sat down, I would be able to properly cover both bulges. I pulled back my arm sleeve to show her the wound. She wrapped the bandage evenly around, smearing the sticky balm on it periodically. It stung but soothed my wound instantly.

  She planted a small wooden paddle into the balm jar. “Use this to put the balm on, otherwise you’ll burn your fingers off.”

  “Yes, shījiě,” I said.

  “You’re the one who’s eight-thousand years old. Not me.”

  Her eyes glowed with grace and celestial beauty. From her words, I assumed she was unhappy with my remark. But with her face, anything she replied with seemed enchanting.

  Flirtatious.

  It made me feel like she only had eyes for me.

  I leaned forward and found my face just below hers.

  She’s so close again. I can breathe her scent. I could touch her silky locks. And her lips—

  “YEOWWW!” I screeched. Her fingernail was in my wound and wasn’t even trying to conceal the deliberateness of it. I pushed air through my clenched teeth as I tried to calm my buzzing nerves.

  “Sorry,” she said. She tossed her head which readjusted her auburn hair on her shoulders.

  Even as she hurt me, some part of me loved it. Why is she so alluring? I closed my eyes. Do you even hear yourself? Stop being an idiot, it’s not a good look.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, the pain still fresh. She continued with the wrapping. As we sat in the silence, I searched for another conversation topic. Hopefully, something less awkward with an obvious, or at least, satisfactory answer. And nothing that would turn on my biological instincts.

  “So,” I started, “are you attending the banquet?”

  The Blossom Deity rolled up her sleeves and repositioned herself as she kneeled on the floor. “No. I am no longer Huadu Sect’s representative. I gave the title to Ju Ying.”

  “Why?” I asked, then immediately regretted. This wasn’t my business at all. Silence stretched the room again, smothering the light atmosphere that was here before. Suddenly, she looked at the door. She blinked as my brother strolled into the room.

  His creased, sky-blue zhíjū draped messily over his build. There was no doubt he had come from some place which required him to hurriedly change his clothes.

  Ze Yijun winked twice. “shīmèi~ Could you spare me some of your attention?”

  I cringed. He looked like me. He sounded like me. It just made sense that we’d both be hypnotised by her beauty.

  “How may I help you, Yijun?” the Blossom Deity said, in that same friendliness she used with everyone.

  “You don’t have to act so cold, shīmèi,” my brother remarked, as he wrapped his arms around both of us.

  She moved his hand off her shoulder.

  Yeek. No wonder she stabbed my arm when I got to close to her face. That had been so rude of me. My brother, who had clearly not reached the same realisation as me, leered closer to her. I made a pathetic attempt to stop him, but he simply nuzzled his way in until he was next to An Lingqi.

  “You know, the more you push me away, the more I want stay.”

  I could feel my face reddening. It was like watching a replay of my own lust. And it was disgusting.

  Dishonour. Ignorant. Stupid.

  The Blossom Deity stood up and moved to continue wrapping the bandage on my arm. I glanced at my brother. It was like looking in a mirror; the only difference was his death glare that burned like lasers.

  I spoke telepathically, “Leave her alone.”

  He bared his teeth, and a flood of obscenities splashed into my mind. I stared at him hard, “What a filthy mouth you have.”

  “You should leave her alone,” he replied. The only sentence that was not full of dirty vocabulary.

  “What did I tell you about being a gentleman?” I should have heeded my own advice earlier.

  He scoffed, “Nothing. You only taught me how to grovel at the feet of others.”

  This again. It always came to this. “Look, I’m not trying—”

  “Why are you here? I told you that she is mine. Mine.”

  “Be reasonable,” I said. Like she’d ever want to be with you.

  He continued to glare. “You suck.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes at his childish mannerisms.

  An Lingqi finished tying the bandage together. My eyes travelled to my neatly bandaged arm to admire her handiwork.

  I got up and glared at my brother one more time, a silent word to tell him to keep his behaviour in check in a much less friendly way. Invisible lasers bored from his eyes.

  Turning to An Lingqi, I bowed. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave.”

  With that, I strode out of the door. I knew my brother was following behind me, but he was the last person I wanted to talk to.