one by one and bury his face in it. He took a step back. “Being the Emperor’s adviser is a serious task.”
Silver Phoenix touched her looped braid in one elegant motion, considering him in a way that made him want to shift on his feet. “I’ll keep you informed of my mistress’s progress. Should I tell anyone else?”
“It’s too soon. Let me tell the Emperor when the time is right.”
She inclined her head, a hint of a smile on her rouged lips. He exited Mei Gui’s quarters, trying very hard to clear his mind.
The oppressive summer months gave way to autumn. Zhong Ye continued to work closely with Yokan, finding ways to ingratiate himself, sharing the gossip at court, telling him about the Emperor’s alchemists and theirreputations and projects. After his return from summer progress, the Emperor resumed meeting with Yokan alone, elevating the foreign alchemist even higher in the eyes of the court.
Yokan was given his own elaborate study to conduct his research. All four walls were lined with shelves, piled high with books, boxes, and jars, full of compounds the alchemist had gathered from around the world for his studies. Glass lanterns, shining even during the day, were scattered around the square chamber. Yokan had asked the Emperor to make Zhong Ye his official apprentice. Surprised by his good fortune, Zhong Ye spent many hours reading aloud and interpreting texts for the foreigner. Yokan translated what he heard into his own language and transcribed it into bound books with thick pages.
The study never smelled the same on any given day. This morning the faint scent of licorice root permeated the air.
“I’ve studied Xian for eight years, yet reading the ancient texts still proves difficult for me,” Yokan murmured, his head bent over a leather volume.
“I think your command of the language is impressive,” Zhong Ye said. They were reading from The Book of the Divine , and Yokan had many questions.
“Do you believe in the gods? Of the underworld and its retributions?”
Zhong Ye paused. He had become used to Yokan’s personal questions, always direct. “I’ve never felt the presence of any god in my life.”
Yokan glanced up. His eyebrows were so light it appeared he had none. The effect was disconcerting. “I see. And you are not one to believe unless you feel something?”
“Even that is so ambiguous. How can one be sure it’s real if it cannot be seen or touched?” Zhong Ye asked.
“What about love?” The foreigner straightened on the stool and smiled thinly.
Zhong Ye tried to contain his surprise. “Love? What of love?”
“Love cannot be seen or touched, but it’s real, is it not? Surely, you’ve been in love before?”
Zhong Ye suddenly felt defensive. Even after four months of working daily with this man, he still knew very little of Yokan, who he was or what he thought. “No. I’ve had no time for love.” He caught himself thinking of Silver Phoenix.
“Interesting.” Yokan bent over his book again, his quill raised.
Zhong Ye suppressed his irritation. He couldn’tingratiate himself by acting abrupt. “And you? Have you ever loved someone?” he asked politely.
Yokan gave a slight shake of his head. “I, too, have had no time for love. It’s an unnecessary distraction.” He scratched something onto the parchment. “A weakness.”
“Is it true that you know the secret to eternal life?” Zhong Ye asked. Yokan had never mentioned it again in conversation, after that first day in court. But there must be some truth to his claim, or why else would the Emperor continue to meet with him alone?
“Have you read from The Book of the Dead ?” Yokan asked, looking directly at Zhong Ye.
It was as if sharp needles were dancing across his scalp—Zhong Ye would never become used to the pale blue color of the foreigner’s eyes. “Only parts, random pages. I’ve never seen the actual book.”
“You will help me translate the entire volume,” Yokan said,
Silver Phoenix touched her looped braid in one elegant motion, considering him in a way that made him want to shift on his feet. “I’ll keep you informed of my mistress’s progress. Should I tell anyone else?”
“It’s too soon. Let me tell the Emperor when the time is right.”
She inclined her head, a hint of a smile on her rouged lips. He exited Mei Gui’s quarters, trying very hard to clear his mind.
The oppressive summer months gave way to autumn. Zhong Ye continued to work closely with Yokan, finding ways to ingratiate himself, sharing the gossip at court, telling him about the Emperor’s alchemists and theirreputations and projects. After his return from summer progress, the Emperor resumed meeting with Yokan alone, elevating the foreign alchemist even higher in the eyes of the court.
Yokan was given his own elaborate study to conduct his research. All four walls were lined with shelves, piled high with books, boxes, and jars, full of compounds the alchemist had gathered from around the world for his studies. Glass lanterns, shining even during the day, were scattered around the square chamber. Yokan had asked the Emperor to make Zhong Ye his official apprentice. Surprised by his good fortune, Zhong Ye spent many hours reading aloud and interpreting texts for the foreigner. Yokan translated what he heard into his own language and transcribed it into bound books with thick pages.
The study never smelled the same on any given day. This morning the faint scent of licorice root permeated the air.
“I’ve studied Xian for eight years, yet reading the ancient texts still proves difficult for me,” Yokan murmured, his head bent over a leather volume.
“I think your command of the language is impressive,” Zhong Ye said. They were reading from The Book of the Divine , and Yokan had many questions.
“Do you believe in the gods? Of the underworld and its retributions?”
Zhong Ye paused. He had become used to Yokan’s personal questions, always direct. “I’ve never felt the presence of any god in my life.”
Yokan glanced up. His eyebrows were so light it appeared he had none. The effect was disconcerting. “I see. And you are not one to believe unless you feel something?”
“Even that is so ambiguous. How can one be sure it’s real if it cannot be seen or touched?” Zhong Ye asked.
“What about love?” The foreigner straightened on the stool and smiled thinly.
Zhong Ye tried to contain his surprise. “Love? What of love?”
“Love cannot be seen or touched, but it’s real, is it not? Surely, you’ve been in love before?”
Zhong Ye suddenly felt defensive. Even after four months of working daily with this man, he still knew very little of Yokan, who he was or what he thought. “No. I’ve had no time for love.” He caught himself thinking of Silver Phoenix.
“Interesting.” Yokan bent over his book again, his quill raised.
Zhong Ye suppressed his irritation. He couldn’tingratiate himself by acting abrupt. “And you? Have you ever loved someone?” he asked politely.
Yokan gave a slight shake of his head. “I, too, have had no time for love. It’s an unnecessary distraction.” He scratched something onto the parchment. “A weakness.”
“Is it true that you know the secret to eternal life?” Zhong Ye asked. Yokan had never mentioned it again in conversation, after that first day in court. But there must be some truth to his claim, or why else would the Emperor continue to meet with him alone?
“Have you read from The Book of the Dead ?” Yokan asked, looking directly at Zhong Ye.
It was as if sharp needles were dancing across his scalp—Zhong Ye would never become used to the pale blue color of the foreigner’s eyes. “Only parts, random pages. I’ve never seen the actual book.”
“You will help me translate the entire volume,” Yokan said,
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