"The elixir of immortality was meant for HouYi and her, but thieves tried to prise it from her possession. Desperate, Chang'E swallowed the elixir of immortality and floated to the moon, doomed to live a life of solitude with her jade rabbit as her sole companion."

Lady of the Moon—the Immortalist Tales

CHAPTER FIVE

Biyu pressed his hand against my face in an effort to keep me still, but my eye burned where the brush stroked near it. I flinched every time the brush prickled my skin, and I could barely keep my eyes open as he drew a wet black line across the edge of my eyelids.

"Ouch," I said as he poked me again with the brush. "You're hurting me."

"Well, stop moving," he said through a mouthful of pins. "I can't line your eyes well if you don't keep still."

"It's itchy," I said. "Why are you using a new brush? This one is so prickly."

"The old one broke yesterday," he said. "Hold still."

I grumbled again, then jumped lightly as his trained fingers blended the wet white powder on my scars. He was the only person I allowed to touch my face. Anyone else I'd fling their hands off and punched them in the nose. Even when Mr. Long first painted my face as a demonstration, I'd almost bitten his fingers off. After that, the theater master kept his distance.

After Biyu fixed my makeup, I helped him with his headdress. With quick fingers, I braided his hair and twisted it up into a tight bun which I secured with a large black pin. His headdress was blue with white cloud-like swirls.

"Your turn." Biyu pushed me gently, shoulders down, onto a chair in front of the large bronze mirror. Like mine, his fingers flew expertly in and out of sight as he plaited my wig, wound it into a bun, and slid my black and gold headdress over my head. The little glass and metal tassels clinked against each other as I stood up and checked myself in the mirror.

I was completely unrecognizable underneath my white painted face, the elaborate black robes, and the intricate headdress.

There was no Sarna Jinyu, only the woman who was the High Demons. It was easier to face the Imperials as the High Demons. The High Demons feared nothing, even when they launched into a full-out war with the High Immortals, knowing that they had the low ground. Like the High Demons, I'd face the Imperials as fearlessly as they'd faced war.

After checking everything was in place, we made our way to the Pearl Hall where Mr. Long waited outside.

My hands were clammy around my performance fan, and beads of sweat had welled up underneath all my masks. I had never felt so nervous before a performance before. Dancing and Facechanging came as naturally to me as breathing. But now, my legs were lead, and the memorized dances in my mind threatened to vanish the moment I stepped onto the stage.

"Biyu, Sarna," Mr. Long grasped our hands when we approached. "You're next."

My stomach tightened. I nodded, glancing at Biyu for support. His jaw was clenched, and he was staring at the wall, his face unreadable. We pushed past the curtains and toward the backstage. Biyu parted the curtains, and we stared right into heart of the Pearl Hall.

The Pearl Hall was impressive—gold dragons heralded the circular roof, the tens of dynasties and powerful emperors lived through the stunning mosaic on the ceiling. Regal, polished candle holders held hundreds of tea candles while red ribbons fluttered from the windows.

Seated in the middle of the hall was the Emperor. He looked older than the tapestries had depicted him. Gold gleamed on his head, but he looked exhausted, as though he had came back from a war that spanned decades. His eyes drooped, and he was coughing into a silk handkerchief. I had always imagined the Emperor to be this strong, stout man with blazing eyes and a mighty sword by his side. But this man was nothing like I had expected.

Next to the Emperor in a smaller throne was a tall and stony-faced man. Unlike the Emperor who was clad in a magnificent golden robe embroidered with dragons, this man wore pure black. The only thing of color among his attire was the crown of golden branches on his head. His long dark hair cascaded past his shoulders and down to his waist, and he sat straight-backed on his throne. The only thing suggesting the barest bit of amusement was the tilt of his goblet and the concentration in his gray eyes.

He looked exactly like the man in the tapestry.

My stomach dropped as I shifted my gaze to the man sitting on the Emperor's left side. My breath hitched, and there was a low buzz in my ears. Confusion and anger settled in as I stared at him.

Peanut thief.

There was no mistaking the lazy look on his face, the slouch of his shoulders, and the shadows of his face. He looked nothing like the second prince woven into the tapestry. That man was stout, regal, and powerful. This one was sitting with one leg crossed on top of the other, looking as though he was about to fall off his seat, drunk.

My eyes fell onto the man sitting at the lower tier of the platform—plaited beard, a chin too crooked, and eyes so small, they resembled beans.

Lord Hua, the Great General of Erden. The man who ruined my face.

Suddenly, the small comforting sliver of hope I had last night was gone. With a snap of the High Immortals' fingers, all the barriers and walls I had erected came crashing down, like a tower struck by a powerful blast of lightning. I keeled backwards, dropping the curtain, pressing my hand over my chest.

He had pinned my hands down on the bed, then laughed at me as I cried.

"Too much for you to handle, is it?" he had said. "I have bedded hundreds before you, my dear, but I shall never cease to have fun with you."

His words ignited strength I had never experienced in my entire life, propelling me forward as I broke free from his grasp. Before I knew it, my hand had connected with his left cheek. He stumbled back, surprise and anger flashing in his eyes.

"You think you're so strong, eh?" He grabbed my wrist and dragged me off the bed. I had screamed, kicking and flailing, but he was stronger. I was just a child, he was the Imperial General. "Let me teach you a lesson, silly slave. You are born to serve, and your insolence comes with consequences."

The brazier next to the wardrobe glowed like the pits of the Eighteen Hells. I made a lunge for the bed post, but he was faster. He lifted me off the ground and pressed my left face into the burning coals.

The pain shredded me. All I recalled was the agony and his howls of laughter.

I can't do this. I-

Biyu dropped to his knees and grasped me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. "You're not in the Pavilion. You're in Zichuan Theater. You're with me. You're safe."

I knew I wasn't in the Pavilion, but my mind refused to let go. Darkness flashed, as quickly as fire would burn paper. Fear trapped me inside unbreakable walls, sealing off my desperate screams, teetering me at the edge of insanity, and I could fall into the pit of jagged pain and broken hopes at any given moment.

How could I dance for the man who had ruined me?

"Sarna," Biyu hissed. "Stay strong. For me. For us."

Teeth chattering, I took in a shaky breath and leaned on Biyu for support as he drew to his feet. There was nothing I could do to stop my hands from trembling. I gripped my fan so hard, my knuckles turned white.

The song came to an end. Applause filled the room. Mila and Shao bowed and left the stage.

Biyu held my hand as he peeled back the curtain. Together, we stepped into the center of the stage.

Bared to a room full of Imperials, I squeezed Biyu's fingers tightly for comfort.

Breathe, I pleaded to myself. You have to do this.

Gui's stepped onto the stage. "Now, we've all heard of the mysterious art of Facechanging. It is a secret passed from master to master, a secret that not even your majesty knows."

The audacity of Gui addressing the Emperor so casually shocked me. It was known that speaking directly to the Imperials warranted death, but the Emperor didn't seem fazed. Perhaps the eunuch had worked for the Emperor for many years, and things between them weren't as formal as how the Imperial law demanded.

"Crown Prince Wulin." Gui bowed at the man in black robes. "It has come to the knowledge of the common people that you very much love the Immortalist lores. As a gift, I have arranged that Zichuan Theater perform their trademark Facechanging on your nameday. Behold, the Facechangers of Zichuan Theater!"

Everyone in the room broke into applause, all except the crown prince. He set down his goblet and folded his arms.

Biyu and I faced each other. My heart was jackrabbitting away, thumping so hard I feared it might fall out of my chest.

Zhenjin, Papa, Mama, protect us.

The first beat of the song started. Biyu and I let our first face fall.

Gasps filled the room as we circled each other, initiating the story when Pangu first split the realms into three—heaven, earth, and hell. My masks grew ferocious, as did his.

You are the High Demons and everything else in between. Nothing else matters.

From the twin holes of my masks, I saw Wulin lean closer. There was a flicker of interest in his eyes, and the stone-cold expression on his face was gone, replaced by genuine curiosity.

I latched onto Biyu's arm and we twirled around each other. He drew his wooden sword, as I drew mine. I took in a quick breath and swung my sword outward, pointing it directly at the crown prince.

It was a bold move. Bold because it involved threatening the Imperials—stupid for the same reason. But it was necessary if we wanted to evoke shock from the audience. I had to admit it, threatening the Imperials loosened the foot crushing my chest ever so slightly, like treading the edge of the Emperor's unimaginable power.

The crown prince's generals unsheathed their swords and advanced, but Wulin held up a hand.

Faster and faster, Biyu and I exchanged blows, dancing to the rhapsody of battling High Immortals and High Demons. I was encompassed in a whirl of colors and emotions. Right here and now, there was only Biyu and I. There was no audience, no Emperors, no princes. Nothing.

Then came the screaming.

A blur of white darted through the room and leaped toward the Emperor. Instinctively, I lunged at Biyu, pushing him onto the ground and throwing my body over his. He gasped as he fell, but his gasps weren't because I took him by surprise.

The intruder wore a Facechanging mask, just like one of Biyu's. However, they were dressed in black robes tucked tightly against the skin.

There was a flash of steel, followed by the sound of multiple swords singing free from their sheaths.

"Protect the Emperor!"

It was utter chaos. The guards and generals flanking the Emperor formed a protective human shield in front of the throne. Trays and tables were upended, drinks and food flew as the guests ran for their lives. Biyu pushed me behind him, his own sword raised. However, the blade was not meant for the Emperor. The assassin landed in front of the crown prince and struck so fast, it was a complete blur of black. The crown prince reacted at once, two times faster, and disarmed the assassin with a swift kick to the chest.

They skidded across the ground, blade skittering from their hand.

The guards and generals surrounded the assassin, spears raised and pointed at every inch of their body. The assassin seemed to laugh, for the cloth covering their mouth fluttered. They reached into their pocket and whipped out a piece of paper, then slammed it onto the ground.

Smoke billowed, and an explosion shook the throne room, shaking wooden beams from the ceiling and sending cracks trembling through the floor, blowing up every person near the assassin, including the assassin, sky high. I saw it all—the flash of light as the explosive paper detonated, the pieces of bloodied flesh burning free from the corpses, and the choking smell of gunpowder and flesh filled the air. Biyu and I were thrown backward. My back slammed against the backdrop.

It was all too familiar. I couldn't move. All that registered was agony and shock.

A red velvet room.

A muslin dress.

A man with yellowing teeth.

A brazier.

"Sarna!"

Biyu's head was bleeding. I wasn't sure if I was injured too, the pain in my mind was too intense.

"We must leave."

He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the throne room through the back door. I couldn't move. It was like that autumn night all over again—him leading me through twists and turns while I stumbled blindly behind, heart pounding in my chest and the coppery taste of blood in my mouth where I had chewed my lips into bits.

Then, we were running. There was a stitch at my side, and I couldn't catch my breath. The Facechanging costume weighed everything down, making running twice as hard. My lungs burned. White light flashed before my eyes and I collapsed.

"Sarna." Biyu knelt down beside me. "We need to get out of the palace now. Get up!"

I looked at his face, and a chill shivered down my spine.

There was so much fear in his eyes, visible behind the the holes of his masks.

Realization was a punch in the face. The assassin wore a Facechanging mask. The only people in the Palace who possessed Facechanging masks was Zichuan Theater. The assassin had blown themselves up after their assassination attempt, leaving us as scrape goats.

Oh, High Immortals help us.

Biyu looped an arm around me and helped me to my feet.

"Stay where you are!" a voice shouted.

Biyu cursed as tens of Imperial soldiers surrounded us. I couldn't do anything but flail as they grabbed my arms and tore me away from Biyu. He fought back like a deranged animal, spitting and hitting every ounce of flesh he could see. He ripped the flags from his back and used them as a weapon but was knocked out by the butt of a spear to the head.

I wanted to fight, but my hands refused to grab my own flags, my legs refused to kick them. I sat on the ground, crying and bleeding.

Useless.

The soldiers dragged us into an underground dungeon, shoved us into a cell, and slammed the metal bars into place. Then, they stormed out of the dungeons, leaving behind nothing but the eerie sound of wind rustling through the cracks in the walls, the flicker of candle fire, and the crushing feeling of hopelessness.

*****

A/N

THERE IS NOW A BOOK TRAILER FOR ATBM. IF YOU HAVE YET TO WATCH IT, HERE IT IS! Many thanks to Abyss-of-Crazy for the wonderful voiceover and editing!

https://youtu.be/lKRMjo3fpnE