Seated at a small roadside restaurant that specializes in delicate flower-shaped cakes made from mung beans, the scale of Luoyang is starting to fully dawn on me. For half the day, I've made my way through the shining avenues and pristine stores of the capital, both window shopping and looking for Ma Guanxin. The sun, now at its highest point, casts sweltering rays of light down onto the streets below and the entire city seems to have taken refuge in the myriad of inns and restaurants that are speckled all over the city. Comfortably camped out in the shade of the restaurant, I watch people scurry into stores to find refuge—and lunch—from the blazing sun.
A gentle clink. A tall terracotta cup, escorted by a dainty plate of mung bean cakes, sits on the table to my right. They are quickly followed by a plethora of dishes containing all sorts of appetizers and snacks. A delicious smell drifts from the resplendent array causing my mouth to water in anticipation. I let the food sit untouched for all but a few moments, letting my eyes eat their share before I do. Having observed the entire ensemble, I reach for the mung bean cakes. "Vice Commandant Quan, are you not going to test Her Highness's food for poison?" Xiaoyue asks pointedly from beside me. Quan Linwen, casually clothed in a fitted robe, arms crossed and left hand clutching a jian, returns Xiaoyue's question with a contemptuous glare; but, surprisingly, reaches down and pops one of the cakes into her mouth. Seconds quietly pass as Linwen leisurely chews before finally swallowing, "This shop is personally owned by His Highness and its staff and chefs were handpicked by me." A smirk tugs at the edge of her mouth, "Thanks for the mung bean cake."
Just as I finally get my hands on one of those oh-so-delicious looking cakes, the thunderclap-like staccato clacks of horseshoes slamming against paving stone herald the arrival of trouble. A crimson blur, wildfire in the shape of a horse, streaks by, moving swifter than the chariot of Helios himself. What's more impressive is the horse's rider, however. Clad in a bright vermillion riding suit and face obscured by a black bandana, the rider, despite going at full gallop, leaps from the saddle in a graceful arc, breaking his landing with a practiced tumble before dashing directly at me. The Heizhenzu agents are caught completely by surprise as the rider charges through them, scattering them like fallen leaves caught in an autumn gale. Even Quan Linwen is caught by surprise, barely able to unsheathe her jian before a swift flying roundhouse kick sends her flying into a neighboring table (much to my satisfaction). However, I have little time to gloat as a quicksilver serpent darts out from the rider's side. And, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I'm staring death in the eyes. And death is staring back.
YOU ARE READING
The Foreign Empress
Historical FictionA cold and potentially fatal marriage, an imperial court embroiled in assassination and conflict, a hidden conspiracy that could shatter not just a four-century-long peace but the empire itself. In the midst of it all, a girl whose struggle to survi...
