Page 3 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

Two

After physicians deemed Emperor Zhuan’s illness incurable, he vanished for forty-nine days.

Upon his return, fully restored to health, he gave no clear explanation, hinting only at Zhuque’s eternal spring.

Word of his recovery spread far and wide, prompting many terminally ill patients to seek the spring, believing it could heal both body and spirit.

The very next day, I had visitors. Visitors I hadn’t seen since the start of the war.

“Jie!” Rouha broke free from Xiuying’s viselike grip first. She ran toward me on her sturdy, small legs, legs that were not so small anymore. How had she managed to grow so much in the span of a year? I struggled to sit up on my pallet, not wanting to appear weak and sickly in front of my family.

Rouha reached my cell and stuck her little arms through the bars.

Unable to deny her, I held my hand out and let her grasp my cold fingers with her warm ones.

The weight of her small palm in mine, the softness of her skin, the simple, trusting gaze she beheld me with, as if there were nothing I could ever do to harm her…

it was too much. As I tried to release her hand, she clung to me.

When I forcibly pulled away, she began to cry.

Plum, who had waddled forward on his own, took this cue to also burst into tears. Xiuying scooped him up, darting an anxious glance at the soldiers standing guard down the hallway. “They missed you,” Xiuying explained. As our gazes met, I saw that her eyes were full of tacit meaning. “As did I.”

Even Uncle Zhou had come. “Despite your father’s fall from favor, your prince asked for an exception to allow us to enter the Forbidden City,” he explained, and I was reminded of Sky’s shrewd decisiveness as commander general.

He knew what he wanted, and more importantly, he knew how to get what he wanted.

Uncle Zhou continued: “He said you were reluctant to leave your confinement.”

I stiffened at his choice of words. For they reminded me of my mother.

My mother, who had refused to leave her rooms. Who had shut herself away in her final days, unwilling to see or hear from anyone. That was how one gave up on life, wasn’t it?

“ If you lose your will to live, it’s simple. You die ,” Lei had told me. “ Do you want to die? If you die, they win. Remember that. ”

I did not want to die. Rather, I wanted life as the migrating birds did, flying thousands of li to stay warm and outlast the winter.

I wanted life as did the wolves, who, when crippled by hunters, still came limping back for leftovers, determined to eat their fill.

The na?ve parts of me that had survived the war wondered if life in the imperial palace would not be lovely and delightful, like a storybook character’s happy ending.

Yet the lie was as flimsy as rice paper. I could not even convince myself.

Life came with responsibility. Given freedom, I was afraid of what I might do. Could I still be trusted, I, a corrupted state traitor, who desired lixia more than air itself?

“I know the Imperial Commander’s pardon pertains only to your freedom in the Forbidden City,” said Uncle Zhou, “but I wonder if, with time and good behavior, he might lessen his restraints. Perhaps come spring, you could be permitted to visit Willow District. You’ll find our home much changed since you last saw it. ”

“Why?” I asked hoarsely.

“His Highness wanted to make sure we were well equipped for winter. Our household lacks for nothing now.”

My mouth twisted. Father would have no trouble filling his pipe, then.

“How is Father?” I asked.

Uncle Zhou and Xiuying exchanged a glance. “As well as one can expect.”

“I’m sure he was thrilled to hear news of my treachery.”

Xiuying shook her head. “Meilin,” she said. “Be free. Remember what you once wanted.”

Xiuying spoke softly, choosing her words with care. I scrutinized her face, but as always, she wore her mask of polite civility. We both knew the warlord’s soldiers were listening.

I got to my feet gingerly, gripping the bars of my cell for balance. “Sister,” I said quietly. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid I no longer know how to live. I’m afraid I can no longer tell right from wrong. I’m afraid of who I am now, and, given freedom, of who I will be up there.”

As ghastly as they were, the dungeons were also safe, and predictable, and unvarying. My days here were routine, without stimulation. All I had were my memories, but even those were safe, for the past could not change. I could not alter my prospects from here.

But out there, the future was permeable. I could change my fate—for better or for ruin. The warlord had condemned me as a traitor—to the kingdom and to our social order. But perhaps my legacy could still be rewritten.

“Mei Mei, your fears are only natural,” said Xiuying.

“Be glad you have them, for they will keep you safe. Fear your own power and you will not become a slave to it.” She leaned in, so that we were only a hair’s breadth apart.

“And I trust you. I trust even your basest of instincts. Remember that no matter how far you have fallen, you can be no lower than those above us both, those who occupy the throne today.”

My mouth fell open. Xiuying caught my eye before busying herself breaking apart Rouha and Plum’s squabble, once again playing the role of good and faithful mother. But this was the most subversive, insurrectionary comment I had ever heard from her.

Xiuying—optimistic, ever cheerful, the very paragon of a dutiful Anlai woman—had no faith in those who held power today.

How many others were like her, I wondered—disillusioned by the status quo, waiting for a spark of change?

It was then that I felt it—what I hadn’t felt for a very long time. The first stirrings of desire.

They had to leave soon after. Rouha and Plum could not stand the dankness of the air and the wafting scent of rotting flesh.

Only Uncle Zhou managed to linger, glancing furtively over his shoulder as Plum started a screaming tantrum in front of the guards.

Under the cover of Plum’s echoing wails, Uncle Zhou said to me, “I meant to give this to you before you left for your husband’s household.

Of course, you didn’t bother saying goodbye. ”

“I’m sorry—”

He waved my apology away. Opening his cloak, he passed me a worn leather-bound book, its binding warped and the ink on the cover no longer visible.

“Your mother’s diary, Meilin. I found it on her body the night she drowned. Many of the pages are ruined, but miraculously, some survived. I tried to decipher her words but…I think you may understand more than I do now.”

With one last look, he hurried down the hall, joining Xiuying in soothing the children.

I waited until the guards had returned to their usual posts before poring over the unexpected gift.

It amazed me to think my mother had once touched this artifact, had once written and caressed these pages.

I did not remember her keeping a diary, but then again, there were many things that I did not recall.

The pages were deformed from extensive water damage. Most of the ink had run, but as I flipped through the wrinkled pages, I found a few passages where the characters were still faintly legible.

I plan to use him— my mother had written, in her sprawling, confident handwriting.

How thrilling, to finally be able to—

And she laughed and kissed me—

But surely, the tide will—

I kept leafing through the pages, until I was more than halfway through the book.

Here a greater extent of the writing had been preserved, the ink less blurred.

On one such page, a whole paragraph was readable: He is using me.

Just as I am using him. But he is winning.

His will overrides my own these days, in moments that I cannot recall.

Is he stealing my memories? I worry my body is no longer my own—

Gradually, I saw, her handwriting had become like bird scratches, sparse and thin.

His goal is far more ambitious than anyone could have known. It is long-drawn-out, and yet, what is time to an immortal? He has been biding his time for centuries. I must stop him, before it is too late.

From her final entry:

I can feel myself fading, losing bits and pieces of myself day by day. Is it too late for me? And yet I cling to hope, that obstinate creature. I must hold out until the end of winter, when I can make my last journey to the Red Mountains—and save myself—

I slammed the book shut, my heart hammering in my chest. I could not keep reading. It was too painful, like trying to excavate shrapnel buried deep in the flesh.

My mother had died trying to thwart Qinglong’s plans, whatever they were. Stealing Zhuque’s seal? But he had not succeeded. No, his goals had always been far more ambitious than my own. He had likely wanted Zhuque’s seal for a larger purpose.

Thoughts of the dragon inevitably led to my jade.

Its absence gnawed at me, leaving me weak and depleted.

Perhaps the only thing sustaining me now was the overpowering presence of iron in these dungeons.

Once I left, how could I possibly function without my seal?

My hands twitched compulsively, until I finally drifted into sleep.

In my dreams, my jade found me. In my dreams, I was made whole.

The clang of the outer door woke me. I heard the furtive rush of whispers, before a familiar shadow cut across the guttered prison walls. I recognized him by the slope of his gait, like a jungle cat’s. Cao Ming Lei.

Now that I thought about it, I had no idea how he’d managed his visits to me thus far. As a prisoner of war, his movements were surely restricted. But if anyone could bend the rules, it was the prince of Ximing.

What else could he manage, I wondered. What other rules could he circumvent?

“So you’ve been offered a way out,” said Lei, hands clasped behind his back as he studied me. “Will you accept?”

“How have you managed to visit me?” I asked, disregarding his question. “Surely the Imperial Commander would not allow it.”

Lei smirked. “Using your little brain again. I’m glad to see it.”

I scowled at his condescension. “Bribery?” I guessed. “But where have you the means?”

“There are things people want more than gold,” he replied. The knowing glint in his eyes told me he had the means to help me. Few were as charming or as cunning as he was. And what I needed was something no one else would dare attempt.

I still despised him for what he’d done to me in the Three Kingdoms War, the way he’d exploited and manipulated me as his prisoner.

We were by no means friends but…I had few allies in this place.

And after what we’d endured together to survive on Mount Fuxi, we were no longer exactly enemies either.

“Lei,” I started, struggling to keep the desperation from my voice. “Can you help me? I-I need my spirit seal.”

He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

“I can’t live without it,” I said in a rush.

“I-I’m off-balance all the time. It’s hard to sleep, hard to think, hard to even breathe.

If I’m to return to the palace, if I’m to stand a chance at court, I need it.

Lei,” I said again. “I-I think my life force is tied to it now.”

“So you will accept, then,” he asked, his face as inscrutable as ever, “the Imperial Commander’s offer?”

I thought of my mother’s diary, which was hidden within the folds of my tunic. And yet I cling to hope, that obstinate creature. I must hold out until the end of winter, when I can make my last journey to the Red Mountains—and save myself—

In the end, it had been too late for her, and she had not lasted to catch the blossoms of spring.

But she had wanted to save herself; she had not given up on this world as I had so often imagined.

What had Qinglong done to her? And what was he planning now?

I was no match for the dragon in my current state, but I could not surrender myself as I’d once believed my mother to have done.

I would fight—until my bones were dust, I would fight.

“It’s a surprising offer,” I told Lei. “I don’t know why the Imperial Commander would agree to it, but…”

“Not for your sake, certainly,” said Lei.

“Despite the official reports, legend of the woman warrior has spread far, and the people are restless. In the aftermath of war, famine has devastated the land. Do you know—news of your imprisonment has been met with anger, and in some cases rebellion? The warlord’s position is precarious, and now he needs his prisoner on a pretty pedestal, to comply with and promote his agenda. And will you obey?”

A yawning restlessness was building inside me, one I hadn’t felt since I’d fled my father’s house, all those months ago.

“You know how obedient I am,” was all I said.

Lei’s smile was like a knife in the dark.