I did not believe him, already probing his face and tone for trickery. I did not think he had changed; he would say anything to obtain what he wanted. However, I wanted the assessment of his keen mind. Something gnawed at me, that it would be a betrayal of sorts to allow him into my home—both of Liwei and myself. But I was on the alert; I would not be caught unaware. And if he betrayed me again, he would pay in full this time.

ALL WAS SILENT, EXCEPT for the careful tread of our feet. I was relieved for the lateness of the hour, that everyone was asleep, that I did not need to explain his presence to my mother or Ping’er. Wenzhi stared at everything intently—whether a silk-paneled lamp, the painted screens, or a carved wooden table. Outside, he paused, gazing at the silver roof, the glowing earth, the forest of moon-white osmanthus.

“I have wondered about your home,” he said quietly. “It is beautiful.”

I nodded curtly in reply, unwilling to engage in conversation with him.

As we walked through the trees, the light from the lanterns threw our shadows across the ground. Neither of us spoke again until we arrived at the laurel, its seeds glistening like fallen stars caught in the web of branches. Wenzhi pressed his palm against the smooth bark before yanking hard at a seed. It did not break away, though the leaves trembled and the branch dipped from his force.

“The energy in this tree is strange. Cold, as most things are here, but also discordant—as though there are two sides to the whole,” he observed.

“What does that mean? What can it do?”

“I’m not sure.” He frowned. “Upon your return here, did you notice anything different?”

I hesitated before saying, “My lifeforce recovered quicker than anticipated. I thought it some mysterious power only obvious to me now that mine had been unsealed.”

His hand swept toward the laurel. “Except it came from this.”

Regeneration, Liwei had said. Why would the emperor crave such power? The Jade Palace thronged with healers. I stole an assessing glance at Wenzhi, trying to discern if the light in his eyes was concern or avarice—

“Xingyin, do you suspect me still?” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I have no wish to be your enemy again.”

“What of next time?” I asked. “What if our desires were to collide once more? Undoubtedly your self-interest would reign.”

“It will not,” he said flatly.

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I will not allow it. To set myself against you, would be akin to going against myself.” He paused. “When I hurt you … it hurt me too.”

I stared at his unyielding face, taken aback by the implacable way he spoke. No words rose to mind, neither protest nor insult.