The festival dawned bright and gold.The morning sun spilled across Anning's rooftops, glinting off ribbons, polished jars, and the fresh coats of paint that Ran and the others had proudly smeared across every wooden gate.
The air smelled of honey cakes, roasted corn, and freshly steamed buns. Children ran through the square with paper kites shaped like cranes. Musicians tuned their flutes under the persimmon tree, laughter echoing through the mountain wind.
For a moment, the village felt alive again — unburdened by sickness or fear.
Achu walked through the crowd, carrying Fei on her hip, a basket of dried herbs slung over her arm. Her eyes softened at the sight of her people — smiling, healthy, bright.
Even she allowed herself to believe, just for that morning, that everything would be all right.
The First Sign
It happened near midday.The drums were playing, dancers circling the square, and Ran was helping serve bowls of sweet porridge when a scream split the air.
A man had collapsed near the well — clutching his throat, his skin turning pale as chalk.The laughter died instantly.
Achu's basket hit the ground.
She rushed forward, pushing through the crowd. The man's veins had risen beneath his skin — faintly glowing white. His lips trembled as he gasped for air.
"Back away!" she ordered, kneeling beside him.
"Is it the same sickness?!" someone cried.
"No. It's the air," another said. "The water— the—"
"Enough!" Achu's voice snapped like a blade.
The villagers froze as she pressed her fingers against the man's pulse. Weak. Uneven. The corruption was already spreading through his meridians, crawling toward his lungs.
Her mind raced — she couldn't reveal too much, not with so many eyes.
She reached for her pouch, mixing a quick paste from crushed ginseng, mountain sage, and the faint shimmer of spiritual powder she hid in her sleeve.
"Hold him," she told Ran, who had run to help. "Keep his head steady."
The girl's hands shook but obeyed.
Achu pressed the paste beneath his tongue, then traced a sigil against his chest — subtle, almost invisible in daylight. The mark glowed faintly gold.
The man's breathing slowed. The color began to return to his face.
Whispers broke out through the crowd.
"Did you see that?""She healed him.""No one else could do that—"
Achu stood quickly, her expression unreadable."It's the herbs," she said evenly. "You all know I studied medicine. Nothing more."
But she could feel the stares — suspicion mixed with awe.
And somewhere beyond the square, among the trees, she felt it again — those eyes watching.
The Quiet Aftermath
When the man finally stabilized, Achu sent him to rest in her shelter.The villagers thanked her with trembling voices, their gratitude laced with fear.
By nightfall, lanterns were still lit, but the songs had stopped.People whispered instead of laughing.
Ran stayed close to Fei, her small hands fidgeting. "Mom… are people scared of you now?"
Achu smiled faintly and brushed a thumb across Ran's cheek. "They're just scared of what they don't understand. Fear makes strange shapes out of kindness."
Chen said nothing.He'd been quiet since noon — eyes distant, thoughtful.
Chen's Discovery
That night, while everyone slept, Chen slipped out.He carried a small lantern, half-covered with cloth, and followed the trail north where the imperial riders had vanished days before.
He'd overheard their voices earlier in the afternoon, hidden behind the granary.They hadn't come back for the disease — they'd come for her.
The phrase kept echoing in his mind:
"The lost royal apothecary."
He crept along the forest path, heart pounding. The moon was high, silver light filtering through the trees.
After half an hour, he spotted them — the same three scouts, now joined by two others, camping near the old shrine. Their horses were tied to the trees, and a small fire flickered between them.
Chen crouched behind a log, straining to hear.
The Scouts' Conversation
"…the symptoms match the White Trials exactly," one scout said, tossing a pebble into the fire. "They said the experiment failed years ago — but look where it spreads now."
"The Emperor's apothecaries swore all subjects were destroyed," said another. "If she still lives—"
The leader, the same man who'd come to Anning, spoke quietly. "Then she holds the antidote. The Sun Lotus Elixir. Only one woman ever mastered its balance — the Emperor's youngest daughter, Achura of Zhuang."
Chen's heart froze.Achu… Achura?
The leader leaned closer to the firelight. "If she's truly alive, the Council wants her captured — not killed. But if she resists… burn the village."
Chen's breath caught. He nearly stumbled backward, but clamped a hand over his mouth.
They were coming for his mother.
The Hidden Return
He ran all the way back — through the trees, across the stream, his feet splashing in silence. The lantern's flame had long gone out, but he didn't care.
When he burst through the door, Achu was already waiting.She sat by the table, candle still burning, as if she'd known he would come.
Chen froze in the doorway, panting.
She looked up — calm, tired, but her gaze sharp as moonlight."Chen," she said quietly. "You followed them."
He nodded, trembling. "They know. They said— they said the Emperor's daughter— they're coming for you!"
Achu sighed softly, standing. "So they finally remember I exist."
He stared at her. "It's true, isn't it? You're—"
"Names don't matter," she interrupted. "What matters is what we protect."
"But they'll burn the village!"
She knelt, hands resting on his shoulders. "Then we make sure there's nothing left for them to burn."
Her eyes glowed faintly, gold and calm. "Tomorrow, we move the sick underground. You'll help Ran gather supplies. And whatever happens, you do not follow me again."
Chen's voice shook. "You're not going to fight them, are you?"
Achu smiled faintly — but it didn't reach her eyes."Only if they insist on dying."
Lanterns and Shadows
Outside, the wind picked up. The last of the festival lanterns swayed, their warm light flickering.
One by one, they began to go out.
Achu looked out the window, her reflection dim in the glass. For the first time, the valley felt small — too small to hide from the empire's gaze.
She whispered softly to herself:
"If it's destiny they seek, then I'll show them what destiny costs."
And somewhere in the forest, the imperial scouts stirred — unaware that the woman they hunted had once commanded an army, healed kings, and buried gods.
Tomorrow, the fields would wake to another dawn.But Anning's peace was already gone.