Chapter 3

I first met Xiao Heng deep in the mountains of Minzhou.

I had gone to gather medicinal herbs when I heard blades clashing in the distance.

Several men in black were pursuing a young man covered in blood, hacking their way down the slope.

They knew nothing about medicinal plants. Solomon’s seal, Paris rhizomes, and jewel orchids fell in swathes wherever their blades passed.

I winced with every breath.

Those plants needed at least three to five years to mature. How many five-year stretches did anyone have in a lifetime?

So I deliberately scattered hornet-luring powder across the path they would have to take. The men in black fled all over the mountain, stung by venomous hornets, their curses shaking the air.

In the confusion, I dragged their quarry into the cave where I stored herbs.

As I crouched there stopping his bleeding, I regretted it more by the moment.

He had seven blade wounds and half an arrow still lodged in his shoulder. Saving him would use an awful lot of medicine.

A loss. A terrible loss.

And the first thing he did when he woke was put a dagger to my throat.

“Who are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Your ancestor.”

He slowly lowered the blade, a hint of amusement entering his eyes. “Bold of you. Do you know who my ancestors are?”

“Whoever they like.” I pointed at his wounds. “Just remember to pay me for the medicine before you bleed to death.”

Only when he looked down did he realize he had been bundled in bandages like a wrapped rice dumpling.

Over the following days, I brought him food and changed his dressings, but I never gave him a pleasant look.

He asked my name. I told him it was none of his damned business.

He asked why I’d saved him. I told him he’d crushed my herbs, and nobody would pay for them if I let him die.

When he complained that the medicine was too bitter, I doubled the amount of goldthread.

The man apparently had no self-respect.

The nastier I was, the more he wanted to hover around me.

He turned the bamboo trays for me when I dried herbs and followed with a lantern when I went into the mountains at night.

Once, when I nearly missed my footing, he caught me.

His shoulder wound tore open, leaving him white with pain, but he still grinned and asked:

“Jin Miao, are you touched?”

He had learned my name by snooping in my medicine chest.

I kicked his wound and smiled sweetly.

“What do you think?”

He spent half a month recovering at my home.

On the day he left, someone came to meet him at the foot of the mountain.

A fair-faced young servant paced anxiously at my door.

“Third… young master, we must leave before it’s too late!”

Xiao Heng took a few steps, then came back.

“Jin Miao, are you really not coming with me?”

“Get lost.”

“You won’t even ask my name?”

“Get lost. Now.”

His expression darkened, but he still refused to go.

I had no choice but to beckon him closer.

His eyes brightened, and he leaned down toward me.

I clamped a cloth soaked in a sedative over his nose and mouth.

He stared at me in disbelief before passing out.

Cheerfully, I told the servant to carry him away. I thought I’d never have to see that nuisance again.

I never imagined that later, after someone tricked me into going to the capital and then into the imperial palace,

I would look up and find a familiar face on the throne.

That night, he pinned me to the imperial bed and told me his name, over and over—

Xiao Heng.