Nanowrimo 2022 - Day 13 Word Count and Best Bit (Patreon)

Hey all! Today I added 2,586 words to my project, bringing my total word count to 23,086! Almost halfway there!

They eventually came to a set of nondescript doors a few rooms down from Jin Xia’s own chambers. Jin Xia opened them, introducing Wei Xiang to his rooms. The furniture and linens were simple in design but luxurious in material, built to be applicable to any occupant. The sitting area matched the door’s level and was occupied by a table for taking meals and several comfortable seats. A desk for writing letters was set under a window that viewed one of the garden’s many peach trees. The sleeping quarters were raised a step higher, hidden from the door by a paper screen decorated with tall water reeds and graceful cranes. A side door led to a small bathing chamber, already stocked with fragrant oils and bathing salts.

Jin Xia stepped aside, letting Wei Xiang enter and peruse the new space. He observed the room, one hand behind his back as he touched the furniture to determine its quality. His attention quickly turned to the view out the windows.

“You hide the walls well,” he said, tone leaving an aftertaste of bitterness on Jin Xia’s tongue. “For the briefest of moments, I couldn’t see them, and I thought myself free.”

Jin Xia knew that was meant to be a dig at her, but she surprised him by agreeing. “Yes. Some mornings, when the leaves are particularly full and I am not yet fully woken, I think the walls are gone. But then the breeze shifts the branches, and they are revealed to me.”

She smiled, a miserable and weary thing. “I have become less forgetful with age, though.”

Wei Xiang looked at her, eyes caught between suspicion and pity. He reached forward with the hand with which he tested the quality of his room’s furnishings, grasping her gently by the chin. Garnet eyes met golden amber as he assessed her quality. “I wonder.”

“What do you wonder?” she asked.

“Which is the true Xin Jia: the strategist with the silver tongue I met on the southern plains, or the caged bird I see before me?”

Jin Xia chuckled quietly, more a exhale of breath than a true sound. “Do you think I am not capable of containing multitudes? That I cannot both hope and despair?”

“Complexity is human nature,” Wei Xiang agreed, releasing his hold on her. “But most birds born in cages do not fear them.”

Jin Xia stepped back, turning her gaze to the garden. “It is not this cage I fear. Not really. I fear what cage I might be put in should Qui Ling best me in this contest.”

That, she thought, was enough honesty for today. She made to leave, but a strong grip around her arm stopped her. When she turned, it was not pity or suspicion she found in Wei Xiang’s expression, but dread.

“What is it?” he asked, voice harsh as he tried to cover his fear.  “What cage do you fear? What prison is worse than the one you already live in?”

Jin Xia wished she could pity him in this moment when he realized there are worse things than he knows. But she could not. Not when she knew his worst cage was the one she lived in every day.

“There are two possibilities,” she told him. “One that you will understand, and one that you will not. The first, is that he will find the smallest, darkest room in the palace, and lock me away where I will never feel the sun’s rays upon my skin or taste the sweetness of the spring air. I will never know the touch of another human, and he will forget me, save for the night when he is haunted by the specter of me. I will live in that room until he moment his fear of me overtakes him, and he finds a reason to end my life.

“The other is a fate far too many women know. In this one, I will be sold off to the highest bidder, likely a noble he wishes to sway or a general he wishes to reward. I will be that man’s wife, and he will do what he pleases with me until either I die, or he does.”

“How is that different to what you’ve done to me?” Wei Xiang asked, his hand growing marginally tighter around her arm.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Jin Xia admitted. “But rest easy in knowing that, at the very least, I would never touch you without permission.”

Wei Xiang retracted his hand as if stung by her words. She knew he had not considered the greediness of men’s hands, nor had he seen such things in his own actions. She saw his eyes dart down to his hand, clenching and unclenching as it hovered in front of his chest. Emotions flickered over his face faster than Jin Xia could track. She decided it would be best to leave him with his thoughts. She turned once more but hesitated at his door.

“For now, you will not be allowed to leave the grounds of the Pearl Palace,” she said over her shoulder. “Perhaps, with time, it will be safe for you to roam farther.”

Wei Xiang said nothing, simply staring at her with a wordless question in his eyes. A question Jin Xia could not answer.

“An evening meal with be brought to you at sunset. Do be kind to the servants, won’t you?”