Chapter 5

Ying didn’t see Ye-yang again after the day she arrived at the manor. Whenever she asked the attendants, they would tell her that the beile had left at dawn to settle official matters, and he wouldn’t return until after sundown. She spent a week fretting, wondering if he had forgotten about her. Perhaps he had offered her the guild nomination in jest and Nergui was about to kick her onto the streets.

But Ye-yang hadn’t forgotten.

“Why does he want to see me?” she asked Qorchi as she followed the steward down the confusing passageways. She had just finished dinner when he showed up at her door, announcing that the beile had requested her presence in his study.

“It is not my place to question our lord’s intentions,” Qorchi replied, though he gave her an apologetic smile.

He led her through the circular archway of a moon gate, emerging in a quiet courtyard with a small bamboo grove. They walked toward the two-story loft that sat at the far end.

Qorchi knocked on the door.

“Beile-ye, Master Aihui is here.”

“Send him upstairs.” Ye-yang’s mellow voice echoed from within.

The door creaked as Qorchi pushed it open. He jerked a thumb toward the stairs. “I’ll be waiting down here to take you back to your quarters after you’re done,” he said.

Ying stepped in, carefully making her way up to the second floor.

Unlike the Chrysanthemum Pavilion, which had been furnished extravagantly to impress guests, the interior of Ye-yang’s private study was far simpler. A few ink paintings hung on the walls. Books and scrolls were stacked neatly on rosewood shelves. In the center of the room sat a square mahogany table upon which a map of the Antaran territories and the neighboring Empire lay unfurled.

Ye-yang was seated by an open circular window, one leg casually draped across the other as he studied the weiqi board in front of him. In his robes of midnight blue with silver embroidery unfurling into patterns of swirling clouds, he cut a subdued figure that, coupled with his thoughtful posture, reminded Ying of a graceful snow leopard she had once glimpsed on Huarin. His long braids had not been pulled back with a circlet today, and instead cascaded freely down his back. He didn’t look up when she entered.

“Come and look at this,” he said.

Ying walked over to his side, peering at the arrangement of weiqi pieces. Ye-yang was holding a white seed between his fingers, hovering thoughtfully over the board.

“If I put it here”—he tapped the piece on a square—“I’ll be safe for at least the next five moves, with a chance of winning the game in ten.” He moved his fingers and tapped on a second square—one that was frightfully surrounded by black seeds. “But if I make this move, I could win in only two. Problem is, if my opponent doesn’t move as I expect, I could lose it all in the next one.”

“Even if you take the first option, there’s no guarantee you’ll win by the tenth move. All you’re doing is giving the opponent many more chances to turn the game around,” Ying answered.

“So you think I should take the gamble?”

“It looks dire,” she said, running her fingers over the row of black seeds, “but you’ve already seen past that, haven’t you? ‘To yearn for great opportunity without the courage to accept great risk is naive.’ My father used to say that.”

Ye-yang smiled. “Your father was a wise man,” he said.

He set the white seed in the middle of the black. Ying picked up a spare black seed lying in its bamboo receptacle and placed it on an empty point next to his white. The game was over.

“You didn’t have to humor me like that,” Ye-yang said.

Ying wasn’t listening. She had reached for a second black piece and was gripping it tightly in her clenched fist. A familiar aura of warmth flowed from the little seed to her fingers.

“This is hetian jade,” she murmured.

“Yes,” the beile replied. “I like the warmth it gives off when you least expect it.”

He gestured at the empty seat on the other side of the weiqi board. “Sit,” he said, then walked over to a side table and poured two cups of tea, setting one down in front of her.

The subtle floral fragrance of tie guan yin wafted in the air.

“Is hetian jade common over here?” Ying asked, wondering if the jade in this weiqi set was somehow linked to the assassin’s pendant.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘common,’ but it’s not unusual to have one or two pieces in the homes of high-ranking nobles. Our supply comes from Rongcheng, one of the Empire’s main trading ports. This weiqi set was a gift from the Emperor to the High Commander during last year’s Solstice Banquet.” Ye-yang picked up a white seed and held it up to the light, studying it thoughtfully.

“How did it end up here?”

“I asked for it, as my reward for settling the pirate threat off the south coast.” He began sorting the seeds into their respective receptacles. Black and white, black and white, in a neat, methodical manner.

Ying arched an eyebrow. “The High Commander wanted to reward you and you asked for…a weiqi set.”

She had heard stories about the escalating pirate problem. Living conditions in some border counties of the Empire had become extremely trying under the watch of corrupt and incompetent officials, forcing many out to the seas to adopt a life of piracy. It was ironic, that a land so fertile and rich could have people so downtrodden and poor.

The pirates didn’t fascinate her, but their vessels did. She had seen sketches of their frightening yet magnificent vehicles in her father’s journals—narrow, slender ships with massive propellers at the stern, slicing through the water like the blade of a butcher’s knife. They would rise from the depths when you least expected it, like a deep-sea monster stirring from slumber.

The corners of Ye-yang’s lips tilted upward a little more. “Nothing wrong with a weiqi set. He was happy to give it and I was happy to accept,” he said. “Why are you so interested in the jade? Have you seen it before?”

Ying shook her head, quickly dropping the seed back onto the board. The black jade pendant pressed against her chest felt like it was searing through her skin. She had been too eager, forgetting that it could be dangerous to reveal so much.

“I’m just curious. I’ve never felt a warm piece of jade before,” she lied.

Ye-yang took a sip of tea. “Tomorrow is the start of the guild’s apprenticeship trial.”

“Tomorrow?” she squeaked.

Since she was entering the trial via Ye-yang’s nomination and didn’t have to register in person along with everyone else, she never had the chance to find out more about the trial—including when exactly it was due to start.

“Nervous?” Ye-yang asked, his lips quirking upward. “I realize I might have been a bit hasty when I asked you to enter on my card. I only meant to help, seeing as I didn’t have a better candidate to nominate anyway. And it seemed a waste to let your talent remain undiscovered. But there’s significant risk involved, especially given your disguise. Are you sure this is what you want?”

He was watching her intently. It took Ying a great deal of resolve to maintain eye contact. She couldn’t recall knowing anyone else with eyes the shade of overcast skies, with the occasional spark that reminded her of lightning—dangerous, but captivating.

She nodded, tearing her gaze away. “I want to enter the guild,” she said.

She didn’t just want to—she needed to. She shuddered at the memory of the scarred assassin and the nine-tailed fox that had almost ripped her to shreds on Muci. Her father’s killer—and whoever was behind him—were still out there somewhere. It could even be safer for her inside the guild walls.

“Good,” Ye-yang said, clasping his hands. “I’m not sure how much you know about the guild and its entrance test, but I can assure you it will be far harder than whatever you’ve heard. The guild did not build its illustrious reputation off the backs of straw men.”

“I can do it. I’m not afraid,” Ying answered. “My father taught me everything he knew.” Her father was the best there was, and he had trained her well. She had no reason to doubt her own skill.

Ye-yang ran his finger along the rim of his cup. “I’m sure he did,” he said, “but talent and confidence may not be enough. The guild has its dark side, and the heat of competition can sometimes drive good men to do bad things. Exercising a little caution won’t hurt.”

Ying could sense the genuine concern in his voice. The young beile had a quiet charm that she rarely saw in boys. Those from her village were either hypermasculine types like her brother Wen, or self-absorbed fools. The beile reminded her of her father, when she watched him comb through her mother’s long tresses as a child.

She quickly shook the association out of her head.

“There are three stages to the apprenticeship trial—” Ye-yang explained, “mind, heart, and soul. Throughout the six months, you will take lessons with the masters in Materials, Design, Construction, History, and Strategy, and use what you know to complete three tests, one at the end of every two months. Candidates who fail to meet the requirements for any stage will be axed immediately.”

“How many people actually make it till the end?”

“No more than three, out of a starting pool of around a hundred. Last year the guild only accepted one.”

“One!” Ying squeaked. Her confidence faltered a little.

“It’s too early to worry about that,” Ye-yang said. His smile was reassuring. “When you enter the guild tomorrow, you’ll have a better idea about what things are like and who your competition is. Trust me when I say they will try to intimidate you with all they have, and they will want to beat you down. But since you’ve made the choice to take this step, then don’t give in.” He picked up the final white seed that still remained on the weiqi board—the winning seed—flipping it back and forth between his fingers. “As you said, opportunity comes with risk, and we must have the courage to face it.”

The next morning, the fourth beile’s carriage trundled through a colossal archway, entering a vast stone courtyard that led to a long flight of steps. An imposing, somber compound in dull gray tones sat at the top of the stairs, resembling a military fortress more than an institution of research and learning. This was the revered Engineers Guild, and once they passed through its gates, the vibrant, flamboyant cityscape of Fei was left in the dust.

A small booth had been set up at the foot of the stairs, where two scribes were checking identity documents of the long line of candidates who came in all shapes and sizes. Ying peeked at her competition from behind the carriage’s curtains.

“Should I go down?” she asked, tugging nervously at her robes. She had checked her reflection in the mirror several times before leaving the manor to ensure she would be able to blend in with the other apprentice hopefuls—braiding her hair in a masculine style, hiding her slender build below swathes of tightly wrapped cloth—but still the butterflies were running amok in her stomach.

“Nergui will settle it,” Ye-yang replied, rotating the jade ring he was wearing on his index finger. “You can wait here for the time being.”

Ying didn’t know what they were waiting for, but she continued sitting obediently anyway. She watched as Nergui cut the line and went straight to the scribes. They didn’t look too pleased at the outset but immediately exchanged their scowls for obsequious smiles once Nergui flashed a white jade pendant in front of them. Presumably identifying him as a member of the fourth beile’s household.

“Aihui Min of the Huarin Aihui clan,” the skinnier of the two scribes bellowed loudly, as he had done for each of the other candidates. The duo exchanged curious glances, then the rounder one hurriedly scribbled down the name and clan details into his little record book.

A rectangular wooden pendant was handed to Nergui and he quickly brought it back to the carriage, shoving it into Ying’s hand through the window.

“Congratulations,” Ye-yang said with a faint smile. “You’re officially an apprentice-designate of the Engineers Guild.”

Ying stared down at the pendant in her palm, using her index finger to trace the grooves that carved out the characters “Engineers Guild” in the sandalwood. The pendant gave off a subtle fragrance that reminded her of the incense that her father used to light in his workshop.

A bell tolled in the distance. Thrice.

“Come, it’s time,” Ye-yang said, lifting the curtain to step out of the carriage. Ying tied the wooden pendant securely at her waist and followed suit.

When she emerged, Ying noticed that theirs wasn’t the only steam carriage in the courtyard. There were three others that were parked, each of them equally luxurious and stately, well-polished roofs gleaming under the sunlight. Their occupants had also just alighted and were proceeding toward the foot of the steps.

“Ye-yang,” a riotous voice hollered. It belonged to a bulky man decked in a maroon, down-lined silk garb topped with a black fur collar and cuffs. Much of his head was shaven—a popular trend Ying had noticed in the capital—leaving only a circular patch of hair that was tied around the back of his head in a single queue. He walked up to Ye-yang from behind and gave him a patronizing clap on the back. “I heard you’d only just got back from Juwan. Didn’t think you were going to poke your nose into the guild’s trial this year.”

He was smiling and his tone was friendly—perhaps a little too friendly.

“Erden,” Ye-yang greeted.

“Always such a serious kid,” Erden said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Doesn’t hurt to loosen up from time to time. No one’s expecting you to bear the burdens of the nine isles, cousin.”

Ye-yang smiled wryly, but said nothing in response.

Standing some distance behind, Ying fumed as she watched the exchange take place. “Who’s that?” she asked Nergui.

The attendant regarded her with scorn. “That’s Erden, the second beile. The High Commander’s eldest nephew,” he said begrudgingly. He gestured at the other two men walking over from the carriages. “That one,” referring to the man with a hawklike nose and a mean gaze, “is the first beile, Ye-lu, and the other,” pointing at the man with a rounder frame and sleepy, hooded eyes, “is the third beile, Ye-han.” They were the High Commander’s older sons.

The four beiles of the Aogiya High Command, Ying marveled. Collectively, these four men controlled the most formidable forces of the Cobra’s Order, their authority second only to the High Commander himself.

Funnily enough, the four of them couldn’t have looked more different. If she hadn’t been told, she might not have guessed that they were related at all.

She turned her gaze toward Ye-yang. His aura had changed completely since he stepped out of the carriage. The mild-natured, subdued boy she had grown accustomed to had been replaced by a stern, austere man. With his defined shoulders and the clean, chiseled angles of his jawline, Ye-yang was by far the most striking of the four, even though he was much younger than the other beiles and slightly smaller in stature. When they stood shoulder to shoulder, he didn’t seem the slightest bit inferior. Erden had tried to thumb him down with his jokey words, but those attempts slid off Ye-yang in vain.

“Ye-lu, Ye-han,” she heard Ye-yang greet the two other beiles as they approached. They nodded in acknowledgment, neither engaging in the same contrived banter as their cousin.

The other three beiles had also brought with them their nominees for guild apprenticeship—three young men who looked like they came from well-to-do families, judging from their expensive embroidered silk robes. They came to stand beside Ying, each of them sizing up the competition with impudence. Behind them, the other candidates had also gathered to await the arrival of the guild masters, although they kept a clear berth from the beiles and their representatives.

Ying instinctively took two steps sideways to put more distance between her and the nearest boy. She clutched on to the sides of her robes with clammy fingers, praying that no one could tell that this scrawny kid swimming in his clothes was actually a girl.

“I’m Chang-en, from the Tongiya clan,” the boy closest to her said, bringing his fist up to his chest in greeting. He was tall and lanky, towering almost a whole head above her, and when he smiled his eyes creased into cheery crescents that somehow made her feel less antsy. He was entering under the banner of the first beile, a second cousin from Ye-lu’s maternal clan.

The other two were Fucha Arban and Niohuru An-xi, representing the second and third beiles, respectively. Standing side by side, they struck an amusing contrast, with the former being bulky as a bull and the latter a flimsy reed. An-xi was even shorter than Ying was, and his feline-like eyes made him look possibly more feminine than her. Both came from illustrious families that resided within the capital city. Arban made it a point to emphasize that his father was overall commander of the Bordered Blue Banner and his sister was one of the High Commander’s most favored concubines.

“Aihui Min,” Ying said when they all looked toward her for her introduction. She cautiously lowered her tone and roughened her voice, hoping that it wasn’t too unnatural.

“Aihui? Are you related to Aihui Shan-jin?” Chang-en asked with a frown.

Her father was very well known, it seemed.

“He was my father,” she said. “But he’s passed on. How is it you know of him?” As far as she was aware, her father had not returned to Fei since she was born, and Chang-en looked like he was about her age.

“Your father is quite the legend,” An-xi interjected. “He was the star pupil of the guild’s founding grand master, the venerable Aogiya Rusha. A prodigy! Everyone thought he would inherit the position of grand master after Rusha’s retirement.”

Chang-en nodded enthusiastically. “He was supposed to have been the greatest grand master in the guild’s history. But then he left.” He pulled a face. “He could have ushered in the golden age of Antaran engineering.”

Ying lapped up every word that they were saying, letting each line weave a new dimension to her father that she had never known. “Why didn’t he stay?” she asked.

The boys stared at her strangely. “Shouldn’t you know the reason better than us? You’re his son,” An-xi said.

The words hurt, because they were true. She should know the reason, yet she didn’t.

“My father never talked about his time in Fei or the guild,” Ying replied. “I was hoping to learn more about him by coming here, and maybe finish what he hadn’t managed to do.”

Arban howled with laughter. “Finish what he hadn’t done? You mean to say you’re dreaming of becoming the guild’s next grand master?” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Look, you might be his flesh and blood, but that means nothing except a common surname. Besides, I reckon the stories about him are exaggerated. If he was that good, he wouldn’t have gone running back to that little hidey-hole of Huarin with his tail between his legs.”

Anger flashed in Ying’s eyes. Her fingers curled into tight fists by her sides, blood pulsing furiously through her veins. She itched to punch the smile off Arban’s face.

“Min,” Ye-yang’s voice suddenly cut through the tension that was building in her mind. Ying snapped back to reality, looking past Arban’s shoulder at the pair of cool gray eyes laced with concern. Ye-yang shook his head lightly, and she understood. Her fingers slowly unfurled.

Arban’s tone and choice of words had been rude, but he did have a point. Why had her father abruptly left the guild and not spoken a word about it all these years? She looked up the long flight of steps toward the staggering building at the top. There were secrets hidden behind those stone walls, she was certain of it, but were those secrets related to her father’s death?

The bell tolled once more. Thrice again.

The crowd of over a hundred candidates fell silent.

Five figures slowly descended from the top of the stone steps, all of them wearing identical maroon robes the shade of fresh blood, pinned at the right shoulder with a silver brooch. As they got closer, Ying could make out the cobra insignia on their brooches, reminders of who the guild answered to.

When they reached the base, they bowed to the four beiles, and to Ying’s surprise, the beiles bowed in return. No words passed between them.

“Congratulations on making it this far,” the wizened elder standing in the middle with thick, snow-white braids said to the youthful faces that had gathered. His voice was deep but scratchy, grating on the ears in a manner that forced attention. “Only these steps stand between you and the halls of the Engineers Guild, home to the brightest and most valued minds of the Antaran territories, where simple ideas have flourished into extraordinary feats.”

“That’s Grand Master Quorin.” Chang-en leaned over and whispered into Ying’s ear. “They say his hair turned white overnight because Abka Han spoke to him in his dreams and showed him the enlightened truth of existence.”

Ying snorted. Enlightened truth of existence? Trust the tavern storytellers to spin such tall tales. People would believe anything nowadays.

“Unfortunately for most of you,” Quorin continued, “your time here will be brief, so I advise you to make the best of it. There are strict rules and high expectations behind these walls, and we will not hesitate to remove anyone who fails to meet our bar. The trial will last for six months, two months for each stage—mind, heart, and soul. This year, however, the stakes are a little different.”

Over a hundred pairs of eyes were glued to the grand master. The candidates stuck near the back were balancing on tiptoes to get a better view. An-xi stuck his little fingers into his ears, giving them a good shake.

“To show the respect and importance that he accords to the guild, the High Commander will personally preside over the final test for this year’s trial. Even we, the masters, do not know what that test will be. He has also sent the four beiles”—Quorin gestured at the four men standing up front—“to observe the trial proceedings, and they shall be residing in the guild. I expect all of you to show them the highest respect if you cross paths in our hallways, is that clear?”

“Yes, Grand Master,” the apprentice hopefuls chorused.

Ying stared at the back of Ye-yang’s head, tracing the twists of his braids from the intricate silver circlet that held them together. He’ll be staying for the entire trial? Why didn’t he say so earlier? She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in mild irritation. They had shared a carriage for the entire journey from the manor to the guild, and he never thought to let her know he was going to be sticking around.

The grand master said more generic words that spoke of encouragement but didn’t quite feel like it, then he gave the apprentice hopefuls the go-ahead to proceed up toward the guild compound. The beiles walked ahead with the masters, occasionally engaging in an exchange of empty pleasantries.

Ying stood at the base of the stone stairs, trying to assess exactly how many steps there were before she would reach the top. A thousand? The other candidates swarmed past her, buzzing with excitement as they began their ascent, eager to reach those hallowed halls that towered at the other end.

But those innocuous steps proved to be a torture. Despite the chilly temperatures, Ying started panting halfway up and still didn’t feel any closer to the top. The group thinned out as the disparity in stamina began to show. Chang-en offered to slow down his pace to keep her company, but she waved him along. No reason to prolong the pain for anyone else.

She was bringing up the rear, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. The forefathers of the guild had probably built this torturous flight of stairs to test the resolve of those who wished to join their ranks. If she couldn’t even overcome a few steps, then she didn’t deserve to stand in her father’s place. She wouldn’t disgrace the Aihui family name that way.

Someone collided with her left shoulder, sending her tripping over the next step. She landed on her knees, breaking her fall with outstretched hands.

“Don’t you know how to get out of the way?”

Ying looked up. The voice belonged to a strange fellow who was wearing a straw hat with a black veil covering his face. Although she couldn’t make out his expression behind the layer of gauze, she could imagine his sneer from the conceited tone of his voice.

“You’re the one who collided into me!” she retorted. “Shouldn’t you at least apologize?”

He scoffed. “You’re asking me for an apology? Do you know who I am?”

Ying picked herself off the ground and dusted down her clothes. Blood oozed from both her palms. “I don’t care who you are, but this”—she held out her bleeding hands—“is your doing. Apologize.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so clumsy. Why are they letting all sorts of riffraff into the guild?” he muttered. Pushing past Ying, he continued rushing up the stairs.

“I’d like to know the same thing,” Ying mumbled.

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