‘Approaching the hour, is it not?’

  ‘Indeed, my Lord Emperor,’ Zexu replied, his eyes not straying from the heap of files in his hands. ‘A mere five minutes remaining until he will call. From what I gathered, it’s still early in their work cycle. Did you know it’s only eight hours long?’

  Puyin’s brows furrowed, his fingers playing thoughtfully with his sleek, dark goatee. ‘I would’ve if that man allowed me to ask more questions. I hope this meeting is more balanced. A discussion, rather than me feeling like I’m fielding a barrage of questions.’

  Anticipation of the impending meeting hung in the air. Emperor Puyin sat resolute and ready, yearning for a dialogue that would benefit his people and realm.

  ‘It was only the second meeting,’ Zexu reassured him. ‘Besides, we spent most of it trying to get the translation programmes to work. I find it interesting how far our Yue language has evolved independently from theirs. Don’t you? Completely unintelligible, yet we would’ve spoken the same language when Kowloon separated from the surface and sank, over a thousand annui-cycles ago.’ Zexu’s gaze lifted from the files, meeting the Emperor’s stare.

  ‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ the Emperor said. ‘Even here, fringe districts have developed dialects that others can barely understand. Some of the deep southern dialects are alien to me, and the eastern accent…’ He trailed off, a mild grimace forming at the thought. ‘Well, it still grinds my eardrums—’

  Puyin stopped, his face softening. ‘My apologies, I forgot you are a native of Pik. But I’ve always admired how well you mask your eastern accent.’

  Zexu laughed off the faux pas, waving a dismissive hand. ‘Think nothing of it, my Emperor. I consider myself more of a central Kowlooni than an easterner.’

  ‘And thank the Light for that. Your assistance and guidance are invaluable, Zexu,’ Puyin said, hand on heart. ‘ One thing more, do you still believe the surface dwellers will attempt to send covert informants down here?’

  ‘Your Majesty, if you stumbled upon an uncharted realm beneath your own, with millions upon millions of people, loaded with resources, armies, weapons, and cityscapes spanning hundreds of kilometres, wouldn’t you want to see it for yourself? Curiosity alone would drive anyone to investigate. You wouldn’t ask for permission.’

  Puyin mulled over Zexu’s words. It was a logical argument, one that struck an unpleasant chord within him. ‘General Cao has taken the Ditu and secured key outposts leading into Kowloon. Surely there is no chance any outsider could enter now.’ He avoided Zexu’s gaze, unwilling to hint at the creeping worry that was settling within him.

  The chancellor’s voice was steady. ‘My Emperor, their leader chose to contact us on his terms when he was ready. He could’ve waited until he had more knowledge of us before he made his first move. They could be in our midst as we speak.’

  Emperor Puyin clenched his fists against the armrests. ‘What could they possibly accomplish? What are some of the things they may attempt? Would they move against the dynasty?’

  Zexu tapped his fingers rhythmically against the file he held. ‘There are countless possibilities. They could choose to coexist with us as friendly neighbours. They might desire our resources, eyeing the wealth we’ve accumulated over the years. Or, worst of all, they could misinterpret our intentions and see us as a threat that needs to be neutralised. That would be called “pre-emptive defence”, a military strategy mentioned by Dong. He wrote about how the ancient Romans used this tactic to carry themselves to great heights.’

  Puyin pursed his lips, well aware of Dong’s admiration for ancient Rome’s surface civilisation. He shuddered at the thought of the mysterious surface leader possessing even half the guile and ambition of a mythical Roman emperor.

  ‘Invading foreign lands to seize their resources… We Yaozhi are familiar with such tactics. Remember the centuries-long drilling Emperor Han ordered beneath the Huang Wildlands? After Prophet Dong’s death, his apostles tried to shut down our mines, but my family never fully obeyed… What if this is Dong’s way of punishing my family, Zexu?’

  ‘I beg you not to entertain such notions, my Emperor. Nothing has been confirmed. If Dong ever intervenes, it would always be to benefit the kingdom he loved, not harm it. Dong is Kowloon’s champion, not theirs.’

  Puyin’s lips were pressed into a thin line.

  The holotable blinked blue, and both Zexu and the Emperor froze, staring at it.

  ‘Well, pick it up!’ Emperor Puyin snapped.

  ‘At once.’ Zexu placed the folders onto the corner of the holotable, then swiped his hand over the table’s luminescent surface. The holographic display sparkled into action, casting an aquamarine sheen across the room. A single audio wave appeared across the display, dancing with the transmission of sound.

  Emperor Puyin watched in silence. He felt a surge of nervous energy coursing through him, but he pushed it aside and leaned forward.

  ‘Hello?’ The voice, garbled and distorted, broke through the ambient static. ‘Am I addressing Emperor Yaozhi Puyin?’

  ‘Yes, this is Emperor Puyin speaking.’ He hoped his voice sounded more assured than he felt.

  ‘Good. Sounds like the translation plug-ins have learned a lot more since our last meeting. Your speech is making a lot more sense in my Cantonese.’

  Even through the poor-quality transmission, Puyin could sense the man’s determination, making him aware of his own nerves. Can he tell how uneasy I’m feeling? What if he takes it for weakness? Puyin’s fingers tightened unconsciously around the edge of his seat.

  ‘Yes, Sir Hwa-Chee. I can understand you better now; it’s a very intuitive programme. Did it learn our speech just by listening to us?’

  ‘That’s correct, Emperor. It was designed to facilitate communication between two mutually unintelligible languages that share a common ancestral proto-language. It uses a form of deep learning to decipher and correlate the meaning of words by identifying parallels between our Cantonese and your Yue. Since our languages diverged 1,000 years ago, many vestiges of our speech remain in yours. The software has effectively bridged the linguistic gap and stitched the commonalities together for effective translation.’

  Emperor Puyin was in awe at such technology. He imagined it was only a sliver of the surface’s scientific wealth. ‘I’m impressed, sir. I trust my chancellor’s detailed report about Kowloon reached you. We understand and respect your cautious approach.’

  ‘Indeed, Emperor Puyin, Chancellor Zexu’s efforts are appreciated. After examining the report, I have several questions. I look forward to learning more about your realm and people.’

  Taking his chance, Puyin interjected. ‘Before we proceed, Sir Hwa-Chee, I would like to clarify something. May I reciprocate your enquiries with questions of my own? I felt somewhat short-changed during our last interaction as I have a strong desire to learn about the surface world.’

  ‘Of course, Emperor. Once you address my questions, I’ll be happy to answer yours. I apologise for any imbalances when we last talked.’

  Puyin responded with a grateful nod. ‘Thank you, sir. Please proceed with your questions.’ He glanced at Zexu, who was engrossed in the hypnotic dance of the audio waves on the holotable, jotting down notes.

  Without missing a beat, Sir Hwa-Chee asked his first question. ‘You estimate a population size of 868.5 million within your 66-district jurisdiction, with a median age of just 20. But I’ve noticed you couldn’t give an accurate figure on the populations of the deep south of Kowloon. The region you call the ‘Huang Wildlands.’ Why is this?’

  Puyin exhaled slowly, not knowing where to start. ‘That southern stretch of our world is… complicated. The Wildlands are chaotic and ungoverned, vast mazes of towering structures that are unmapped by any of our official instruments. We don’t know how far south these lands extend, as their people continue to excavate into the walls and ground to accommodate their growing populations. Their society is largely tribal, and their people follow barbaric practices, with no religion, law, or morality guiding them.’

  ‘Do the people of this region outnumber Kowloon?’

  ‘I doubt that, but their population density is higher. However, we have some data on the Wildtowns that border South Kowloon. They were a part of the Dynasty until recently.’

  ‘Yes, the 11 southern districts that gained independence after the District Rebellions. Tell me more about that.’

  ‘28 annui-cycles ago, the south led the largest separatist movement in Kowlooni history, with support from several Eastern states. 11 southern districts succeeded and dissolved into the Huang Wildlands, while we brokered a difficult peace with the rest. There isn’t much else to it.’ Puyin’s tone was blunt. This was an embarrassing event in Kowloon’s recent memory and not something he was excited to share with an outsider.

  ‘It’s rarely so straightforward, Emperor Puyin. I am no stranger to conflict; people do not seek independence without reason. Why did South Kowloon want to break away after thousands of years of unity?’

  Puyin sighed, realising he had no choice but to delve into a history he wished to forget. ‘It was a time of shifting sands and fickle allegiances. My father, Emperor Guangxu, sought to close the cultural divide between the south and the rest of Kowloon. He wished to be the Emperor who ended the age-old enmity, our dynasty’s most troubled subjects. By law, the Emperor holds absolute authority over every district, yet we rarely meddle in their internal affairs. Emperor Guangxu changed that and invited himself to the southern political table every chance he got. Their warlords and politicians did not take it kindly.’

  ‘But how did his involvement create a war? Did he do something specific to anger them?’

  ‘Emperor Guangxu was well aware of the south’s growing resentment towards him. Around the same time, a southern district called Borek Ata began aggressively arming and mobilising large gangster forces, claiming they were seeing increased raids from the Huang Wildlands. But this move violated an ancient disarmament treaty signed by the south. Every southern district has a cap for militants, and District Borek Ata was far exceeding theirs.’

  ‘Why is there a limit on southern militants? Do other districts have the same limit?’ Hwa-Chee asked.

  ‘In the old era many centuries ago, South Kowloon was wild and untamed, driven by conquest and war. They once held control of vast swathes of the Huang Wildlands and came close to launching full-scale war against the dynasty multiple times throughout history. It took a long and bloody conflict to finally subdue them. Afterwards, the dynasty pushed South Kowloon to sign the Southern Truce Treatise, which imposed strict limits on their military. No other region in Kowloon ever posed such a threat to the dynasty, so no other faced such harsh restrictions.’

  ‘Hm. Okay. So while Emperor Guangxu began involving himself in southern politics, District Borek Ata was seemingly breaking the terms of disarmament. How did your father react?’

  ‘Emperor Guangxu assumed they were preparing to violently resist his recent interferences. He reacted harshly and ordered a royal regicide against Borek Ata’s warlady.’

  ‘Royal regicide? What’s that?’ Hwa-Chee asked.

  Emperor Puyin was careful with the words he chose. ‘Kowlooni Emperors have the power to create or remove the kings of Kowloon. That’s why the gangsters of the Yaozhi dynasty are called the Kingmakers. If a troublesome lord or lady needs replacing, the Emperor calls forth a royal regicide – a calculated political assassination to replace them with more loyal successor. One such regicide was called against Lady Shangguan of District Borek Ata. My father thought it was a matter of pre-empting an inevitable attack.’

  ‘So, did the Emperor’s regicide against her fail?’

  ‘Not at all. Regicides are our secret weapon; we’ve rarely failed to execute one. It’s the period that follows that’s tricky. After the Emperor got rid of Lady Shangguan, the transition was turbulent. Borek Ata’s people rejected their new warlord, seeing him as a puppet of the Yaozhi dynasty. A revolt erupted, and it soon spread across the south. They first demanded release from the Southern Truce Treatise. When that was denied, they became angrier and added another demand: release from the Unification Pact – the contract binding all the districts under the Yaozhi Dynasty. War was declared after that. After Emperor Guangxu’s untimely passing, it fell upon me to clean up his mess. My reign began amidst the turmoil of his exhausted war.’

  A moment of quiet passed. ‘How is your relationship with the south now?’ Hwa-Chee asked.

  ‘It… has been strained. South Kowloon has always favoured isolation over assimilation. For hundreds of generations, they have rejected foreign influence and remained resentful towards us Yaozhi. The rebellions made everything worse. I have spent many cycles studying the shortcomings of my father so that I do not repeat them.’

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Another moment of quiet came. Puyin could feel Hwa-Chee’s gaze through the device, along with his unspoken questions and judgement. It was the quiet analysis of a strategist and leader, of a man weighing and measuring history and culture, seeking to piece together the puzzle of Kowloon.

  ‘So,’ the surface dweller finally said, ‘The rebellions ended with the secession of 11 southern districts into the Wildlands. It’s hard to fathom such a grand empire shrinking so violently. Managing the remaining 868.5 million Kowloonis must still be a challenge. Especially feeding them all. I imagine there are abundant food sources in Kowloon.’

  ‘We can’t feed all Kowloonis, Sir Hwa-Chee.’ Puyin leaned back into his throne. ‘For the last few centuries, at any given time, at least five per cent of our population has lived without food security. However, currently, that number is closer to fifteen per cent. Much of East Kowloon has succumbed to famine. We’re working on the situation.’

  Hwa-Chee hesitated briefly before pressing on again. ‘The east? Your chancellor’s report made it out to be a very troubled region. Historic poverty, lowest literacy rates of all five areas. If they’re also enduring the worst food shortages… dare I say the east looks a bit… neglected?’

  ‘I take offence at that insinuation, sir. We have never neglected the east. If they’re living in a sorry state, it’s because of their own doing, not ours. Easterners have a tendency to create problems out of thin air. In the middle era, they were vassal states for the north for 300 annui-cycles, where they were run by the wealthiest businesspeople in Kowloon. Yet, even with this advantage, they could achieve nothing for themselves. When the vassal agreement expired, the easterners fell deeper into poverty.

  ‘My father always said that those who don’t know how to use an advantage once in their hands were never truly deserving of the rewards it could’ve brought. We’ve given them everything, and still they remain in pathetic circumstances. Even in the recent Rebellions, East Kowloon chose to side with the southern separatists despite having no reason to do so. Simply to sow chaos and disturb the natural order.’

  ‘I suppose it’s your business how you govern, not mine,’ Hwa-Chee replied. ‘And what about energy? I can’t begin to imagine the power needed to maintain your empire.’

  ‘There are chambers of immense heat in certain regions of Kowloon, which we convert into electrical energy. But with my Zhaisheng initiative, we’re exploring a new frontier – quantum energy. By harnessing quantum reactions, we aim to generate the vast amounts of energy we need to power our society.’

  ‘Zhaisheng,’ Hwa-Chee echoed, almost tasting the word. ‘I recall a mention of this word in the chancellor’s report. I understood it as the name for Kowloon’s ongoing renaissance?’

  Puyin’s eyes shone at the prospect of discussing this. ‘Yes, it is time for a second rebirth of Kowloon’s rich past. Our greatest Yaozhi, Emperor Hongwu, was the first to introduce and execute the idea. I will be the second. Just like him, I will motivate the brilliant minds of Kowloon to bring back art, music, science and mathematics to the forefront of culture. The Zhaisheng’s success will be felt by every district. Already, its early benefits are obvious. The pursuit of higher education is more prevalent than ever in our history. Cities are beginning to see a rise in employment. North and West Kowloon are experiencing a surge in prosperity.’

  ‘Indeed, such prosperity!’ Hwa-Chee noted, his tone carrying a slight undercurrent of sarcasm. ‘Yet, I couldn’t help but notice you avoided mentioning the south and east, regions you earlier confessed were struggling under the yoke of alienation and famine. When will your Zhaisheng reach them?’

  The question was blunt, the message between the lines once again insinuating negligence on Puyin’s behalf.

  The Emperor’s countenance stiffened, an edge creeping into his voice. ‘I would remind you, sir, that this discussion is to provide insight into Kowloon, not serve as a platform to question my leadership.’

  ‘I was just asking a question, but fair enough,’ Hwa-Chee conceded. ‘What piques my interest, though, is the sustained presence of Christianity among Kowloon’s population. How did that transpire, I wonder?’

  ‘Christianity was one of the main religions that was standardised during Kowloon’s formation, which is why it has endured as one of the dominant faiths. But Christians have not been the majority for centuries now.’

  ‘Ah, yes, there is another dominant religion in Kowloon; Dongism, right? And there’s a revered figure called Dong. Do you worship him? Is he like Jesus, or is he merely a prophet?’

  ‘We regard Dong as an enlightened being who ascended to a divine level of spirituality. His transformative efforts propelled Kowloon to convert from Christianity. He was the one who made Emperor Hongwu’s Zhaisheng possible, established the dynasty’s Mandate of Heaven and shifted our culture and identity. His teachings provide ethical guidelines for us. But we don’t worship him. It’s sinful to worship a mortal man, no different from worshipping idols. There is also little emphasis on worshipping a singular creator. Instead, we venerate the manifestation of an unknowable god – His Light. Dong was the first to acknowledge that the Light on the surface is the holiest, and it’s our responsibility to learn from his wisdom so we can one day return there. When God forgives Kowloon, he will deliver us from darkness, back to the surface.’

  ‘Why did Dong believe you needed forgiveness?’ Hwa-Chee asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

  ‘When Kowloon existed on the surface, we were a morally corrupt city. God saw us unfit to be in his sight, where we were bathed in his Holy Light. We believe he sent his Demiurge as punishment, who cracked the earth and condemned us to darkness. We call this event The Great Sinking. Dong promised a way out if we sought redemption.’

  ‘Indeed, quite intriguing,’ Hwa-Chee conceded. ‘Looking at my notes here, I notice you’ve provided an estimated count of your military personnel. How critical is the role of your military forces? Are inter-district conflicts so rampant that such a substantial force is necessary? The numbers are truly staggering. For instance, ‘District Kam Shan’ is listed as having over 1,000,000 personnel!’

  ‘Yes, having such vast militaries is vital, Sir Hwa-Chee. We’ve just come out of a major global conflict. Whatever our equivalent for “global” is, anyway. The District Rebellions I mentioned earlier is but one of many major armed conflicts throughout history. The ancient wars between the Yaozhi’s and south Kowloon lasted for decades. Regardless of the full-scale conflicts, there are no shortages of internal security threats. Crime is all too common, and it takes an army to patrol Kowloon’s millions of streets.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Hwa-Chee said. ‘I referred to your armed forces as “military personnel”, but your chancellor often used the terms “gangs” and “gangsters”, which I found puzzling. I’m still attempting to grasp this particular linguistic nuance. Are you criminals? Or law enforcers?’

  Puyin chuckled at the query. ‘A good question. The word “gangster” has lost its original meaning for us. Every district in Kowloon was once the territory of criminal gangs. Before the Great Sinking, the Yu Family gangsters unified all the major gangs that controlled territories across Kowloon. We criminals learned to govern Kowloon far better than any legal governments that came before us. We gave out dole money, built schools and hospitals, paid subsidies for crucial businesses, and provided social services like housing. We succeeded where the law failed and continued to call ourselves gangsters to honour our origins. Now the word means family rather than lawlessness.’ Puyin flicked his fingers towards Zexu, indicating he needed a glass of water. His mouth was as dry as a fungal sponge.

  ‘An ironic name to give yourselves when I assume there are actual criminal gangs in Kowloon. It must get confusing, to have an origin in the same type of people you are no doubt locking up now.’

  Puyin forced a laugh, interpreting the comment as an attempt at levity. He accepted a cup of ice-cold water from Zexu and took a refreshing sip.

  ‘I have one last question,’ Hwa-Chee said in a rush. ‘When was the last time you and your people attempted to reach the surface?’

  Puyin blinked in surprise, taken aback by the enquiry. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Was the question too complicated? Then let me be more specific. How long ago since the last Kowlooni made it to Hong Kong?’

  ‘I’m still a little confused, sir,’ Puyin replied. ‘Your assumption makes no sense to me. Why would you think we have tried to reach there at all?’

  ‘You believe Dong did it, right? The story of Dong is that he reached the surface without any maps. So, it isn’t out of the question that others can reach us, too.’

  ‘Dong’s journey is regarded as a miracle… it wouldn’t be possible for anyone else without the Ditu.’

  ‘Are you telling me the truth, Emperor Puyin?’

  What an absurd question? Puyin frowned in confusion. ‘Of course! Your existence was a total surprise to us,’ he boomed earnestly.

  ‘Very well. Thank you, Emperor. Those are all my questions for the time being. If you have any queries for me, now would be the appropriate time to ask.’

  Puyin took a deep breath, trying to move past the strange line of questioning. The enormity of his curiosity outweighed his apprehension.

  ‘What’s the surface like?’ Puyin asked.

  ‘Strange question… how do I describe the only place I have ever known? I suppose there would be a few differences between here and down there. Today, it is quite warm. Our carbon dioxide releases have been acting up as of late and need servicing. It is very light (sunny), with few clouds in the blue (sky).’

  ‘The blue?’ Puyin asked. ‘What’s the blue?’

  ‘I didn’t say blue. I said it was in the blue (sky). Maybe the word doesn’t exist in your vocabulary. Makes sense. Anyways, I also took a stroll with my daughter and our dog across a field near our house. Do fields or grass exist in Kowloon?’

  Puyin let out a bark of laughter. ‘If there were open space for a field, it would be claimed by landlords to construct as many 80-storey groundscrapers as possible. And as for grass, I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar. What is it?’

  ‘Imagine it as a plant, cultivated for its appearance rather than any real use. It yields a soft and green carpet to tread or run on, kept trimmed to a few centimetres. When there are large swaths of it, punctuated by a few trees, it’s a beautiful sight.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine such a space. It sounds like moss is the closest we have to grass. I wonder, though, are there other civilisations on the surface? Outside Hong Kong? During Dong’s time, he wrote about the entire surface being covered with kingdoms.’

  ‘Hong Kong is one of the smaller nations. It wasn’t always so small. Rising oceans meant many coastal cities had to be scaled down. There are many nations stronger than us – Dravida Eelam, Zhongguo, Reformed Muscovya, American-Judea, and the First Nations of Africa. Hong Kong is modest, and many consider it to be one of the most beautiful cities on the Kowloon (planet).’

  ‘Kowloon? I think the translation software is glitching again,’ Puyin said.

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ Hwa-Chee replied, the casual ease in his voice doing little to pacify Puyin’s disquiet. ‘I believe this is an appropriate place to conclude our conversation. We can reconnect within the next ten work-cycles of Kowloon, if that suits you, Emperor?’

  ‘Yes, it does, Sir Hwa-Chee,’ Puyin agreed reluctantly. There were still so many unanswered questions, now relegated to the back of his mind until their next discussion. ‘Until our next meeting. Farewell for now.’

  The holotable’s lights flickered momentarily before dimming. The call had concluded. From his silent vigil at the corner of the table, Zexu seemed frozen in the wake of the enlightening exchange. Puyin let out a deep, weary sigh.

  ‘Chancellor, please call my brother. I need to speak with Denzhen at once.’

  The tower’s mess hall hummed with the usual clatter of plates and the rhythmic click of chopsticks, but Baoyan sat alone at a corner table, his thoughts distant from the idle chatter around him. The tragic news from Pik had reached him an hour ago. Lord Mingchi’s much-anticipated coronation, meant to mark a hopeful new chapter for the region, had descended into bloody chaos. Baoyan couldn’t shake the image of the city’s streets littered with the bodies of those trampled in the desperate stampede for food. How many were lying there now, crushed or already dead? At least his immediate family lived in Yu now, thanks to his position as a Kingmaker.

  Lost in his thoughts, he caught the scent of burning mushrooms from the table grill in front of him. He plucked the blackened fungi with his chopsticks, dropping them onto his plate. From the table behind him, the raucous laughter of a nearby group of high-ranking tribunes and legates, pulled him from his thoughts.

  ‘Who remembers the final scene from Chief Bobo 3?’

  ‘When the rodent army comes stampeding?’

  ‘Yeah, remind you of anything?’

  Another round of laughter erupted from the table. The hell are they joking about, Baoyan thought. It better not be about…

  ‘Oh, hah! The coronation really did look like the ending of Chief Bobo 3. You can always count on an easterner to live up to their name of dong’fa! Can’t even break bread without murdering one another!’ one of the Kingmakers sneered. The others grinned, stuffing their faces without a care, as if it were the funniest thing they’d heard all day. Baoyan’s grip tightened on his chopsticks. East Kowloon was often a target of mockery in the tower, but this was outright bigotry.

  I might be the only easterner Kingmaker, but I still exist! Baoyan twisted around to face the table.

  ‘You all…’ His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to interrupt the conversation. The entire length of the table fell silent as they turned to look at the short, pale, spiky-haired centurion, who shot to his feet with clenched fists.

  ‘You all don’t get it… none of you understand,’ Baoyan’s words were heavy. ‘While the rest of Kowloon has been celebrating the end of the rebellions, it never really ended for us, did it? But you wouldn’t know, no one does. Because this godforsaken tower would sooner let 11 districts secede from the fucking Unification Pact before allowing another Easterner in here!’

  The mess hall went deathly quiet. Baoyan’s words reached every corner, and heads turned to see the confrontation. His heart pounded and his jaw trembled uncontrollably, but he kept his gaze steady, locking eyes with every Kingmaker at the table who had been mocking his people.

  ‘Looks like Chief Bobo found his voice,’ a voice jeered near the end of the table, followed by laughter from the table. It was Tribune Jiuquan. Baoyan opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck in his throat as the tribune leaned in, his smirk twisting into something more menacing.

  ‘We don’t let easterners in easy because you dong’fa make shit Kingmakers. I mean, try regiciding a lord with four rodents! All they have to do is pull up cheese and four spring traps,’ he chuckled, nudging the Kingmakers on either side, who snickered in response. ‘Your new peasant Lord, Chief Bobo…’ Jiuquan pushed himself to his feet, ‘… is a lost cause.’ The tribune’s rank, two above Baoyan’s, separated them by at least a decade of experience and training. His cold stare bore into Baoyan, forcing the centurion to drop his gaze. ‘Your district, a lost cause.’ His words were like daggers, each one tearing at Baoyan’s fraying resolve. ‘Your vermin people, a lost cause! And the whole east, a—’

  ‘ENOUGH!’

  A sudden, heavy slam from a nearby table echoed across from the other end of the hall, rattling plates and silencing the mess. Jiuquan flinched, his head snapping towards the source.

  The room fell into a tense silence.

  Ushi towered over everyone in the hall, his dark expression set in angry creases. ‘Anyone who thinks it’s funny to mock one’s home while it rages with flames, stand up now so I can look at your slimy face, too.’

  No one stood up. Tribune Jiuquan remained standing, but his shoulders stiffened in response. Ushi focused on him.

  Baoyan felt a spark of determination ignite inside him as he looked at this hulking King with admiration. Isn’t that Praefect Ushi? A southerner. Unlike us, his people wear their pride like a shield.

  ‘Sit back down, Praefect. You’re way out of line speaking to a superior this way,’ Jiuquan firmly said to Ushi.

  ‘Fuck your superior ass, Jiuquan. Don’t think I don’t know why you and your lackeys get real quiet when you speak on the south’s name. You see, even though there are only 14 southern Kingmakers in this tower, the moment any of us hear a comment about our home, we’ll smack you so hard across the face the bigotry will come leaking out your ears.’

  Baoyan watched Ushi, awestruck by the praefect’s unwavering defiance against a higher-ranked Kingmaker.

  Ushi continued, his voice even more commanding. ‘This centurion is the only easterner here, so it’s no fucking coincidence that all of you have suddenly found the balls to be comedians! So, let this be a warning to anyone who thinks they can insult my eastern brothers and sisters without consequence!’ Ushi’s gaze swung around the room. ‘Just as they’ve always stood with the south, I will take any insult against the east as an affront to my own home! There isn’t one Easterner in the tower anymore, there are fifteen!’

  Ushi clenched his fist. ‘Anyone want to see if I’m bluffing?!’

  The room remained silent. Some turned back to their food, avoiding Ushi’s glare. A Kingmaker seated next to Jiuquan yanked him back down to sit. Ushi glanced at Baoyan, who smiled back at him. With a nod, Ushi sat back down beside Praefect Tao and resumed eating.

  Baoyan sat down soon after. As the hum of the mess hall slowly returned, the mocking voices had fallen silent, at least for now. He had found an unexpected ally, and Baoyan felt a small ember of strength flicker to life.

  The east doesn’t have to stand alone. It never did.