After the shock of his father’s transformation was over, the young king looked at the moonflower his father had prepared. It was, indeed, a beautiful plant. The king gazed at it and looked at his own pot, full of only black dirt, and shook his head.

On the day of the Moon Festival, the king of the City of Bright Moonlight arrived at the Imperial Palace with his bare pot. As he passed each gorgeous peony and peach blossom, every elegant chrysanthemum and lily, he heard horrified murmurs.

And the dismay was justified. For when the emperor saw the king’s pot, his face turned as black as iron.

“What is this?” demanded the emperor. “A bare pot? Whose is this?”

“It is mine,” the young king said as he prostrated himself on the floor.

“I will strip you of your kingdom for your insult!” the emperor bellowed. “How dare you!”

“I am sorry, Your Exalted Majesty,” the king said, flattening himself even lower to the ground. “I tried my best to grow your seed, but nothing grew.”

“You could not grow a simple seed? How incompetent are you?” the emperor barked.

He looked at the king before him and the vibrant flowers surrounding him. Orange and vermillion, magenta and gold—the colors blazed like flames.

“Tell me,” the emperor said in a slightly different tone, “do you not have a better excuse than that? Did not your unskilled gardener destroy the plant? Or perhaps one of your rival kings poisoned your soil?”

“No, Your Exalted Majesty,” the king said. “I was just unable to grow your seed.”

“Answer carefully, young king,” the emperor said in a menacing tone, “for your life may depend on your answer. Who is to blame for this empty pot?”

The king raised his head. His face was white, but he said without hesitation, “I am.”

The room gasped, and all expected the emperor to call his guards to drag the king away. But, instead, the emperor smiled and stood and motioned for the young king to stand.

“All bow to him!” the emperor ordered. “Bow to the greatest king in my empire!”

The other kings were confused, but they all lowered their heads.

“Only the bravest and most virtuous of men would dare to bring me a bare pot,” the emperor said, “as well as refuse to blame another. You are a man of great honor.”

“I do not understand,” the king said.

“No one could have grown a flower from the seeds I gave,” the emperor said. “I boiled them.”

When Pinmei finished her story, the silence returned, but it was a gentle quiet, without resentment. For a long moment, the king looked out, past the stone sculpture to the frozen lake. Then he bowed his head to Yishan.

“You are right,” he said in a low voice. “If my ancestors knew how I have helped the emperor, they would be ashamed.”

As he raised his head, Pinmei glimpsed his haunted eyes and saw how broken he was by worry and regret. She forgot he was king and touched his arm gently. He looked at her, and his anguished eyes softened. He patted her hand with gratitude, the soft snowflakes landing on them like resting stars.

A strange twittering filled the air. Pinmei’s face yanked skyward. It was Lady Meng’s swallow! And running in the distance, Lady Meng!

They rushed to her as she clutched at them. “Yanna sent me!” she gasped. “Told me… the emperor… soldiers… guards…”

There was a twang! in the air and a high-pitched shriek. Thud! Something fell from the sky. Pinmei looked down. At Yishan’s feet was a mussel with the tip of a soldier’s arrow in it.

CHAPTER

37

Yishan grabbed the fallen mussel and tossed away the arrow. “We need to leave now!” he said, looking at the king.

“Come with me,” the king said, nodding. “Quickly!”

He led them off the curving path deeper into the garden. In the distance, they could hear the guards shouting, their feet stomping on the snow-covered walkway. The king pulled them behind a giant, rough-hewn statue, and they all stopped. The stone wall of the garden lay in front of them.

“What…” Yishan began.

“Shh,” the king said. He’d taken off his gloves and was running his bare palms over the stones. “Here it is,” he said in triumph. In the light of his lantern, Pinmei could see he had been looking for an indentation in the wall that was like a… handle? The king pushed with both hands on one of the stones.

They all stared as part of the wall moved! It was a secret door!

The king urged them out. “You must run,” he said to them all. “You must leave the city at once. They may not follow you outside the gates of the Outer City.”

“KaiJae,” Lady Meng said, grabbing his hands, “will you be all right?”

“It is all of you I am worried about,” he said, his face shadowed with a darkness beyond that of the night. “Here I am, casting you out of the Inner City, and I have nothing to help protect you except…”

He let go of Lady Meng’s hands and reached into his robe. He turned to Pinmei. “Take this,” he said, handing her the Paper of Answers.

“That’s the… the…” Pinmei said, alarm overwhelming her.

“Yes,” the king said. “Perhaps its power will protect you.”

“But what about you?” Pinmei sputtered. “When the emperor comes…”

“When he comes, I will have no answers to give him,” the king said, looking at Yishan, “and I will no longer dishonor my ancestors by helping such a villain.”

“But… the emperor! Without the Paper…” Pinmei said again.

“I have nothing I need to cling to,” the king said with surprising calmness. He raised his head and straightened, letting the moon bathe him with silver light.

“Except your life!” Pinmei said. Did the king realize what he was doing? “The emperor might kill you!”

The king put his hands on Pinmei’s shoulders. “Thank you, my small friend,” he said to her, “for reminding me there are worse things than death.”

There were loud shouts and the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer.

“Go!” the king said, pushing Pinmei and the others. And with a vicious yank, he closed the door.