Chapter 2: A Mother and Daughter Feign Illness

Chu Wan didn't hide.

She curled up beneath a broad banana leaf, her forehead pressed against the mud, her breathing as shallow as a dying fish.

The footsteps drew closer.

"There's someone here."

"Alive or dead?"

"Looks alive."

Chu Wan didn't move. She didn't even flutter an eyelid. Rain seeped into her collar, a cold that chilled her to the bone, but she remained still.

"Pull her up and take a look."

A hand gripped her collar and yanked. Chu Wan was hauled upward, her knees slamming hard into the stone pavement.

She coughed—a soft, weak sound, like someone wasted away by a long illness.

"Don't... don't touch me... I'm injured..." Her voice was a rasp, like sandpaper on wood.

The hand holding her paused.

"What kind of injury?"

"A fever," Chu Wan said, her head lolling to the side. "It's been three days... I can't walk..."

The edge of an umbrella tilted, illuminating her face. Sure enough, her cheeks were flushed with the heat of a fever, her eyes sunken, her lips cracked.

"Three days?" The man holding the umbrella crouched down, pinching her chin. "The Jing'an Marquis's Manor was raided last night. How is it that you've been feverish for three days?"

Chu Wan blinked, offering no answer.

"I asked you a question."

"I don't remember..." she gasped. "The fever... it's made me delirious... I don't remember anything..."

The man stared at her for a few seconds, then let go.

"Take her to the woodshed."

"But—"

"The woodshed. She's alive; we can still get something out of her."

Chu Wan was hoisted up by two soldiers and dragged away. Muddy water streamed from her hair; she looked like a fish just plucked from a river.

She didn't struggle once.

The woodshed was in the deepest part of the manor's backyard, drafty on all sides with a leaking roof.

Chu Wan was tossed onto a pile of straw. Her hands and feet were left unbound.

"She's here," the soldier reported.

"Keep an eye on her."

"Yes, sir."

The footsteps faded.

Chu Wan lay on the straw, eyes closed. She was shaking—but this wasn't an act. An hour in the rain, coupled with three days without food, had left her body shivering with cold.

But her mind was crystal clear.

Treason. Execution of the entire clan. The imperial decree would be posted at the twelve city gates tomorrow.

Her father had been framed.

That letter—who had "found" it?

Chu Wan slowly sat up and pushed open the door to the woodshed.

The rain had slowed. The backyard was a disaster, with wet blood still staining the base of the walls.

She walked to the edge of the kitchen and fished a piece of hard, dry flatbread from beneath the stove. Then, she walked to the back wall of the shed and crouched down.

Beyond the wall lay the city moat.

She stared at the surface of the water for a long time, then stood up and returned to the shed.

The next day, Chu Wan didn't get up.

An old woman, a servant who had been demoted to a drudge, came to bring food. She lifted the straw curtain and found Chu Wan curled in the corner, mumbling in a fever.

"Don't... don't go... my father said... that letter..."

The old woman froze.

"You know the Marquis?"

"I don't..." Chu Wan rolled over. "I just... heard... he said... someone reported him..."

The old woman stood there for a moment, holding the bowl.

"What's your name?"

"I don't remember..."

"With a fever like this, you need medicine."

"No... no medicine..."

"Why not?"

Chu Wan closed her eyes, her lips twitching as if in intense pain.

"My mother said... medicine makes me... throw up..."

The old woman sighed, set the bowl down, and turned to leave.

Chu Wan opened her eyes.

Her mother had never said such a thing. Her mother had been a physician; she hated the reckless use of medicine more than anything. But Chu Wan knew this woman's temperament—she had just been kicked out of the main house and harbored a deep resentment for the manor. If she thought Chu Wan was connected to the Marquis, she might just lend a hand.

The gamble had paid off.

That evening, the old woman returned.

"I asked around. The decree goes up tomorrow morning," she whispered. "If you're one of the Marquis's people, leave now while you can."

Chu Wan leaned against the wall, motionless.

"Leave? Go where?"

"Who knows... it's better than dying here."

"Thank you, Nana."

"Don't thank me." The woman hesitated. "If you go, head for the East City. The walls are lower there."

The woman left.

Chu Wan closed her eyes.

Leave.

Of course she wasn't leaving.

Her father had been framed. That letter had been forged and then "discovered." The order for the execution of the entire clan had already been issued—which meant the person behind this didn't want her alive.

If she wasn't here, how could she find that person?

On the third day, the searchers came three times.

The pharmacy. The woodshed. The stables.

They found nothing.

Chu Wan had been in the woodshed, "feverish" for three days.

On the fourth day, when the old woman came to bring food, she found Chu Wan gone.

All that remained on the straw was a damp patch of water and half a piece of uneaten flatbread.

"Where is she?"

"Gone."

"Where to?"

"I don't know."

The steward arrived, his face a mask of irritation.

"Search."

"Search for what?"

"Search for the girl."

"At a time like this...?"

"Orders from above: pull the weed out by the roots." The steward slammed the door shut.

Chu Wan wasn't there.

But she hadn't left.

She was hiding in the mortuary outside the manor.

The mortuary was where corpses were kept; no one wanted to spend a moment longer than necessary there. Wrapped in a piece of ragged hemp cloth, Chu Wan huddled in the corner, pretending to be an abandoned infant that had been dead and rotting for three days.

She had smeared herself with lime water and decayed grass juice; the smell was nauseating.

She couldn't be alive, so she played dead.

The third day—her third day in the mortuary—someone arrived.

It wasn't a soldier, but a scholar in a green robe, carrying a medicine chest on his back.

"Another one dead?" He looked around and crouched to examine Chu Wan.

Chu Wan didn't move. Her eyes were closed, her breathing almost nonexistent.

The scholar reached out to check her breath.

"Still breathing."

"Then what are you waiting for? Report it to the officials!" someone urged from behind.

The scholar didn't move. He stared at Chu Wan for a long time.

"Something's wrong," he said.

"What's wrong?"

"There's lime and decayed grass juice on her. This isn't the smell of natural decay." The scholar stood up. "And her breathing rhythm—it's too regular. She's faking it."

The man behind him laughed. "Faking it? Then we definitely have to catch her."

The scholar held up a hand to stop him.

"No rush." He crouched back down and whispered into Chu Wan's ear, "When you wake up, come out. No one will hurt you."

Then he left.

Chu Wan waited half an hour, making sure they were truly gone, before slowly opening her eyes.

Moonlight leaked through the roof of the mortuary. She sat up, lime powder dusting off her clothes.

A scholar. Carrying a medicine chest. Capable of spotting a disguise.

She committed him to memory.

At dawn, Chu Wan walked out of the mortuary.

She didn't return to the manor, nor did she head for the East City. She went to a ruined temple in the south of the city.

A lame old beggar lived in the temple, trading medical help for scraps of food. Chu Wan stopped at his door, hesitated for a moment, and then stepped inside.

"Elder."

The old beggar looked up, a flicker of light crossing his clouded eyes.

"You..." He stared at Chu Wan for two seconds. "You're from the Marquis's manor."

Chu Wan said nothing.

"Your gait, your gaze, and that scent on you—the incense of the manor." The old beggar coughed twice. "Even covered in lime, that smell can't be hidden."

"Did you know my father, Elder?"

The old beggar opened his medicine chest, pulled out a silver needle, and heated it over a flame.

"I did," he said. "Ten years ago, Marquis Chu invited me to the manor. Your mother was a student I taught."

Chu Wan froze.

"Your mother's name was Su Yingyue." The old beggar pressed the silver needle into a pulse point on her wrist. "You've inherited sixty percent of her pulse-reading technique."

Chu Wan grit her teeth and remained silent.

"Why are you here?" The old beggar withdrew the needle. "The manor was raided; you should be dead."

"I didn't die."

"Then you should hide."

"I can't hide anymore." Chu Wan looked at the old beggar. "Someone wants me dead."

The old beggar was silent for a while.

"You want me to help you."

"I..."

"Stop pretending." The old beggar closed his chest. "You came to me because you want my help."

"I want to investigate that letter."

"That letter?" The old beggar's eyes sharpened. "The treason letter?"

"Yes."

"Your father was framed."

"I know."

"You know? How do you know?"

"Because that letter was 'found,'" Chu Wan stared at the old beggar. "It wasn't found; it was planted."

The old beggar remained silent for a long time.

"What do you intend to do?"

Chu Wan stood up.

"Live," she said. "Live, and then make them die one by one."

The old beggar looked at her and suddenly smiled.

"Just like your mother."

"What about her?"

"That's how she survived, too." The old beggar handed her the medicine chest. "When she was alive, I helped her as well."

Chu Wan took the chest.

"How did she die?"

The old beggar didn't answer.

Chu Wan hugged the chest to her chest and turned to leave.

"She didn't die of illness," the old beggar called out behind her. "She was poisoned."

Chu Wan stopped in her tracks.

"The person who poisoned her is still alive," the old beggar added.

Chu Wan slowly turned around.

"Do you know who it was, Elder?"

"I do."

"Who?"

The old beggar pointed toward himself, then toward the center of the Capital City.

"That person," he said, "is currently in the Imperial Court."

Chu Wan gripped the medicine chest, her knuckles turning white.

"Tomorrow morning, the decrees will be posted at the twelve gates," the old beggar said finally. "From this day forward, anyone from the Jing'an Marquis's Manor is the offspring of a criminal. You walk the streets, and anyone can step on you."

"I know."

"But you cannot live the way they want you to live." The old beggar said, "Before your mother died, she told me—'If Wan survives, do not let her accept her fate.'"

Chu Wan stood at the entrance of the ruined temple, the post-rain light stinging her eyes.

She didn't cry.

She turned and walked away.

At the twelve gates of the Capital City, the imperial decrees were posted at the first light of dawn.

Chu Chongshan, Marquis of Jing'an: guilty of treason. Execution of the entire clan.

The commoners gathered, cheering.

A woman selling vegetables pointed at the decree, telling her neighbor, "I heard the manor had a young daughter. She was delirious with fever and somehow went missing."

"Let her be gone. The child of a traitor doesn't deserve to live in this world."

"Hey, do you think the Marquis really committed treason?"

"The decree is out. How could it be fake?"

"Who knows..."

The crowd dispersed.

The vegetable seller picked up her poles and walked away.

She didn't see the small, thin figure standing in the shadows behind the crowd, carving every word of that decree into her very bones.

The figure turned, her face devoid of emotion.

Her name was Chu Wan.

She was alive.

Her mother had taught her one thing—in the art of medicine, she had learned twenty percent.

"Living isn't for the sake of revenge."

"It's to make those who deserve to die... die a little slower."

Chu Wan touched the medicine chest in her arms and walked into the thin mist of the Capital City.

She had a long road ahead of her.

But the road had to be taken one step at a time.

First, she had to survive.

Survive, feign illness, and endure.

Like a snake, crawling through the mud.

And when the time was right, she would bite.