Descendant of the Crane(66)

Then, one way or another, either by condemning herself or framing Xia Zhong, the trial would end.

But first, she had someone to write to.



Caiyan’s chambers overflowed with organized stacks of books, but Sanjing’s were spare. The kang tabletops were clear, the zitan cabinets empty, and everything was filmed with dust, as if the maids knew better than to clean for someone who came home so sporadically. Ever since taking over command of the Yan militia at the tender age of fourteen, Sanjing had divided his time between the palace and the various fronts.

Now, walking into his rooms felt like walking into his mind. In this forlorn space, it occurred to Hesina that her brother’s jealousy might not have been jealousy at all, but rather fear that she’d replaced him in his absence.

Was it true? Hesina didn’t know, nor did she have the time to ruminate. She’d come as an intruder.

She’d come as a thief.

Quickly, she pulled open his drawers. Most, like his cabinets, were empty. One held a sad ball of twine, a whetstone, some ink sticks, and an inkstone. The drawer beneath it was promisingly heavy, and Hesina jerked it open only to find a stack of letters, from their mother no less.

A lump grew in her throat before she reminded herself this was exactly why she was snooping through her brother’s things. She used to write to their mother, too, always waiting for a reply, somehow convincing herself that each and every one of her letters—so carefully sealed with rice glue and posted by dove—had gotten lost. Her delusions died the day she caught Sanjing receiving replies to his.

Hesina hadn’t written since.

She found what she was looking for behind the stack of letters: a plain huanghuali box filled with an assortment of seals carved with her brother’s name. In her triumph, and in her dilemma over which to pick, she missed the sound of the door opening behind her.

“Fancy seeing you, Sina. You never do guard your back, do you?”

Hesina froze, then deliberately turned, leaving the drawer ajar like a childish challenge. Go on, it seemed to say. Fight me.

Sanjing regarded her coolly. “And what, may I ask, brings you here?”

“To borrow a seal.”

“Borrow, you say.”

“Steal.” She would confess to the theft, but not the reason behind it.

“Ah.” Sanjing took a step into the room. The space between them suddenly shrank tenfold. Hesina tensed, and her brother stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to the side. “Why? Did you suddenly end up with a shortage of your own?”

“No.”

“Then did you tire of your name?”

“Just let me have a seal, Jing.”

“Not until you tell me what you need it for.”

She was at the end of her patience. She snapped a random seal into her hand, but her brother blocked the doorway with an arm. “It’s a simple question, Sina, that requires a simple answer. Preferably the truth.”

The truth.

“Though a lie will also do, if it’s easier for you,” Sanjing said as Hesina turned away from him, clenching the seal so tightly that it hurt the bones in her hand.

The truth.

The truth was that their father had deceived them.

The truth was that she suspected their mother.

The truth was that the dowager queen would only read a letter marked with Sanjing’s seal, and this, on top of everything, was more than Hesina could take. Tears rolled down her cheeks before she could wipe them.

“Sina.” Her brother was suddenly standing before her; he held her by the arms. “Sina, what’s wrong?”

There were no simple questions, or simple answers, Hesina decided bitterly. There were only truths sacrificed for other truths.

“I need the seal for Mother.” She threw off Sanjing’s hands. “Because I want to write to her.”

She read Sanjing’s emotions like clouds in the sky. The confusion, the skepticism, the confusion again, scattered by sudden understanding. Then there was only vast, blue pity.

She didn’t want his pity. “You should have just said so,” he said as she made for the doors. “Wait, Sina.”

It wasn’t enough to stop her, not like what came out of her brother’s mouth next:

“I’m sorry.”

In disbelief, Hesina turned.

“I know…” Sanjing broke off, sighed, and pushed a hand through his hair. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just hard.” He opened a palm and fisted it. “It’s hard feeling helpless.” He met her gaze, and she was perplexed to find guilt in his. “But I know you must feel helpless too.”

Her confusion cleared.

Her brother thought he was to blame for her tears.

Fresh ones filled Hesina’s eyes. She wanted to close the distance between them, smooth down his cowlick, and tell him she was sorry too.

But if she did that, she would be tempted to share the burden of the truth.

“I’ll see you at the trial tomorrow,” she managed before making her escape. After Akira acquitted Mei, she would tell Sanjing everything. Until then, she would spare him this pain.





TWENTY





EQUALITY IS NOT THE NATURAL WAY OF THE WORLD. IT MUST BE NURTURED.

ONE OF THE ELEVEN ON THE NATURAL ORDER