Three Fates, One Moon

Prologue

“Forty-five years ago, the songs of the Northern Wei spoke of a hero.

A warrior from a humble military household who hid her identity for twelve agonizing years, bleeding upon the frozen steppe to protect the Imperial Tuoba Crown.

Her name was Hua Mulan.

But empires do not possess memory.

Forty-five years later, the North was no longer the realm Mulan had fought to preserve.

The court had turned inward. Factions fought for influence while grain meant for the frontier disappeared into private storehouses. Soldiers went hungry. Villages bore heavier taxes. The Emperor’s authority weakened with every passing season.

Across the border, the Southern court watched.

To the South, a weakened North was a threat waiting to become an invasion.

To the North, every movement of Southern troops was proof that an invasion had already begun.

Neither side trusted the other.

And neither understood who was teaching them to distrust.

The honor of the North had been buried in the mud, along with the men who had once defended it.

The realm was desperate. Hollowed out by hunger, suspicion, and ambition.

And so, the North waited for a ghost to save its people.”

The scholar looked up from his scroll and paused.

“Are you listening?”

The hammock continued to sway.

A-Li’s eyes remained closed.

“Of course,” she said.

“Then tell me what I just said.”

One dark eye opened.

“That the North is starving, the South is suspicious, the court is full of fools, and someone is making money from all of it.”

Silence.

The scholar stared at her, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

A-Li closed her eyes again.

“I was listening.”

~~~

Ghost Market Lane was busiest when respectable people preferred to stay home.

Rain had driven the merchants beneath patched awnings and narrow eaves, filling the lane with the smells of wet wood, steamed buns, medicinal herbs, old books, and wine. Carts pressed against one another until there was barely enough room for a man to pass between them.

Gu Changfeng moved through the crowd without hurry.

He had learned long ago that the easiest way to notice what did not belong was to stop looking as though he were looking.

The Crown Prince had remained at the inn.

That had been deliberate.

Xiao Changzhan’s presence attracted attention even when he wished it didn’t. Changfeng, on the other hand, could walk through a market dressed plainly enough to be mistaken for a minor official—or ignored entirely.

Today, he preferred the latter.

He had been following the same rumor for three days.

Grain disappearing from northern routes.

Merchants receiving payment from men who had no reason to possess such quantities of silver.

And, more recently, a name spoken only in whispers.

Shizu.

He had found nothing useful.

The rain had thickened, turning the stones beneath his feet slick.

An old man came slowly through the crowd, pushing a wooden cart piled with cracked baskets, bundles of kindling, and what appeared to be sacks of turnips.

Changfeng stepped aside to let him pass.

As the cart rolled by, something struck his palm.

He looked down.

A coin.

Small.

Worn.

Unremarkable.

Changfeng closed his fingers around it.

The old man continued walking.

He did not turn.

Changfeng watched him disappear into the crowd.

The coin was cold from the rain.

He rolled it between his fingers once.

Twice.

Then slipped it into his sleeve.

“Interesting.”

The voice came from behind him.

Changfeng turned.

A young scholar stood beneath the edge of an awning, holding a bundle of scrolls against his chest.

At least, that was what the scholar appeared to be.

The robes were modest, slightly too loose at the shoulders. A scholar’s cap sat low over dark hair, and there was a faint smear of ink along one sleeve.

The face was young.

His features were difficult to place beneath the shadow of the cap.

His eyes were not.

They had already noticed his hand.

Changfeng glanced at the scrolls.

Then at the scholar.

“Is there something interesting?”

The scholar smiled politely.

“I thought I saw a coin.”

“You did.”

“Is it valuable?”

“No.”

“Then you won’t mind if I have it.”

Changfeng almost smiled.

Almost.

“You’ve mistaken me for someone generous.”

“I’ve made that mistake before.”

The scholar stepped closer.

Changfeng let the crowd carry them past one another.

He felt the briefest brush against his sleeve.

Then nothing.

He waited three breaths.

The scholar was already several paces away.

Changfeng looked down.

His fingers found an empty sleeve.

He stopped.

A quiet amusement touched his eyes.

So.

That was the game.

He turned.

“Young scholar.”

The figure stopped.

Slowly, the young man looked over one shoulder.

“Yes?”

“You dropped something.”

The scholar glanced down at the wet stones.

Nothing.

When the scholar looked back, Changfeng held the coin between two fingers.

A flicker of surprise crossed the young face.

It was gone almost immediately.

“That isn’t mine.”

“Of course not.”

“Then why did you say I dropped it?”

“Because you were looking for it.”

The scholar smiled.

“Perhaps I was looking for something else.”

“Perhaps.”

Changfeng held the coin out.

The scholar reached for it.

Changfeng moved his hand away.

The scholar’s fingers closed on empty air.

He blinked.

Then smiled wider.

“You’re teasing a scholar.”

“I thought scholars preferred books.”

“Some do.”

The hand came again.

Changfeng shifted the coin into his other palm.

The scholar followed.

This time he moved barely an inch.

Again, nothing.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Not because of the attempted theft.

Because of the movement.

The scholar was quick.

Very quick.

But there was something else about it. A looseness that did not belong to the rigid training of a soldier, yet was too deliberate to be simple street mischief.

Changfeng decided not to categorize it.

Not yet.

The scholar tried a third time. Changfeng caught his wrist.

Not hard. Just enough.

The scholar looked down at his imprisoned wrist.

Then up at Changfeng.

“You’re not a very good gentleman.”

“You aren’t a very good scholar.”

“Perhaps I’m a bad scholar.”

“I had begun to suspect that.”

The scholar twisted.

Changfeng released his wrist before the movement could become a struggle.

The scholar slipped sideways, using the shoulder of a passing merchant to break Changfeng’s line of sight.

Changfeng turned.

The scholar was already behind him.

Changfeng’s hand caught the edge of the scholar’s robe.

The scholar twisted free.

That made him pause.

Again.

Too quick.

Too practiced.

Not military.

Not quite anything he recognized.

The scholar used the crowded lane as though he had been born in it.

A hand darted toward his sleeve.

Changfeng raised his arm.

The scholar ducked beneath it.

He turned again.

The scholar was laughing.

“You really are difficult.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“By scholars?”

“Mostly soldiers.”

“Ah.”

The scholar nodded solemnly.

“That explains it.”

For the first time, Changfeng actually smiled.

But it disappeared almost immediately.

The scholar noticed anyway.

His hand darted toward the coin.

This time, Changfeng put forth no resistance.

The scholar closed his fingers around the coin and pulled back.

Triumph flashed across his clear eyes.

“Thank you.”

Changfeng looked into them.

“You’re welcome.”

The scholar took two steps backward.

Then three.

“You’re not going to chase me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Changfeng regarded the young scholar calmly.

“Because I wanted to see where you took it.”

The smile faltered.

Only for a heartbeat.

Then returned.

“You’re rather unpleasant.”

“And you’re rather obvious.”

“Am I?”

Changfeng’s gaze traveled briefly over the scholar’s loose robes, the cap pulled low, the careful posture.

Something about the disguise was deliberate.

He could not tell whether the uncertainty came from the clothing, the manner, or something else entirely.

He decided it did not matter.

Not yet.

“You’re wearing a scholar’s robe,” he said.

“That’s usually considered convincing.”

“Not when a scholar moves like that.”

The scholar’s smile softened.

For the first time, something more cautious entered his eyes.

Changfeng noticed.

At the same moment, the scholar noticed the slight sharpening in his opponent’s gaze.

The game had changed.

Neither knew the other’s name.

Neither knew what the other wanted.

And neither had any intention of being the first to say.

The scholar tucked the coin into his sleeve.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

“Perhaps.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Changfeng watched until the dark scholar’s robes vanished beneath the awnings.

Only then did he look down at his empty hand.

The coin was gone.

He had let it be taken.

That wasn’t the part that concerned him.

What concerned him was the fact that he still couldn’t decide what, exactly, he’d just encountered.

A thief.

A scholar.

Perhaps neither.

Changfeng’s gaze lingered on the place where the figure had disappeared.

He slipped his empty hand back into his sleeve.

And for the first time that afternoon, Gu Changfeng wondered whether he had been the one who was being investigated.