To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods

Chapter Two

I rounded a corner, ventured down a festive street with clamoring merchants setting up night-­ market stalls. The scent of street food and candied treats invaded my lungs, made my mouth water.

The Lotus Tower stood at the edge of the Fence, overlooking a row of newly built Roman houses and cafés with signs that proclaimed no Pangulings allowed.

Though they had already annexed half of our city, the Romans continued to take more because they knew they could. Because it seemed no matter how much they took, they would never be satisfied.

And we had no way of stopping them from buying up land, either through legal monetary exchanges or sinister coercions.

Because of this, what used to be the busiest teahouse at the heart of Jing-­ City now stood tall as a prominent opian den, swarmed with sin.

Inside, under opulent red beams and half-­ moon archways, the world smoldered with dancing smoke and fluttering silks, transparent on the bodies who wore them. Meaty hands flashed a wealth of jade and gold, their pockets laden with silver. Sweet sighs and warm caressing breaths swirled in the air, tangled with the delicate laughter of serving girls and boys.

I pulled the satin veil tight across my lower face, obscuring all that was beneath.

This was not a place for honorable girls. Too many of Er-­ Lang's elites frequented its parlors. Words were water, and one rumor could drown a girl's reputation for life. If I wished to secure a good marriage, I had to go unrecognized.

However, Azi spotted me the moment I entered the smoky foyer.

This wasn't my first visit. Or second. Or third. My sister burned through her rations like wildfire, and I counted my blessings that Baihu practically gave me the drug for free.

For now.

Get in and get out. Don't mess this up. I couldn't risk another fight with him. Not when Meiya's life depended on the White Tiger's small mercies.

Azi greeted me with a deep bow, her scant silks slipping dangerously low off bare shoulders. Roman eyeshadow was smeared across her eyelids, and when she looked up through neatly cut

bangs, there was a certain allure behind her gaze. But all I saw were the bruises she tried so hard to hide.

She flashed a delicate smile, warm and familiar, and all my contempt and worry faded from existence.

Azi's Gift: trust, comfort. An ability to manipulate emotions.

Baihu kept her around for powerful men to open their hearts to and spill forbidden intel to in whispers, to be used as bargaining chips in his games of politics and power.

The Lotus Tower was a hive of secrets and lies, but gold and opian weren't the only things traded here. The right information from the right man was more valuable than an entire city's worth of opian.

"Is he here?" I asked, my words laden with hope.

Baihu spent few days of the moon in Jing-­ City. Fewer here at the Lotus Tower. Nobody knew where he was the rest of the time, and I didn't care to know. If Baihu wasn't here, then all the better. Azi would give me the drug, and I'd be on my way without seeing him.

There was no such luck today.

Azi gave a subtle nod, and my heart dropped. "Qing." Please. She gestured ­ toward the grand staircase leading up from the smoky foyer where casual customers gathered on red silk cushions, passing long pipes of opian round and round, giggling and swaying like spineless puppets of flesh and hunger. "He's waiting."

I pressed the back of my hand over my nose, less to cover my face than to keep myself from smelling opian's sickly-­ sweet scent—­ an odor that never failed to trigger biting memories of Father passed out in the courtyard. Of Grandma crying. Of loan sharks' furious fists pounding down our doors.

This smell made me feel seven years old again. Weeping in the shadows, powerless as strangers carried away pieces of our home.

Hunger pinching my belly, the howling winter wind clawing at my skin, numbed and cracked. Father had wasted the money that should've bought us wood for fire on opian until there was nothing left, not even for food.

I shook the memory away. Focus.

I followed Azi up the creaking wooden stairs; the melodies of gu-­qin and imported Roman drums fell away with distance.

We passed latticed doors pasted with paper that offered little privacy from the rowdy laughs outside or the quiet giggles inside.

As we ascended the levels, these twisting hallways became quieter and the rooms more private. Sparsely decorated walls were now lined with carvings and tapestries, jade statues and delicate vases—rich pieces of our history that endured wars and changing dynasties only to end up here, decorating a den of smoldering sin. Glass panels and heavy iron doors were installed to protect the secrets of important men, and the rare Roman customers who frequented these halls for its alcohol, for its pretty faces, for the traitors with loose lips whose pockets they lined with gold.

But never for opian.

The Romans knew the deadly consequence of this drug despite the lulling lies they sold to my kind.

Baihu's office was on the top floor. Far from the sickly fumes, tucked away in a secret corner.

Azi knocked three times. "Miss Yang is here."

"Send her in," came the reply.

Azi stepped aside, then grasped my wrist when I reached for the door, her touch firm with warning. "He's a good man. Don't be so hard on him."

No man who touches opian is a good man. Let alone one that sells it, I almost told her, but bit my tongue.

I was a pawn in Baihu's hand, playing his game.

I lowered my chin. Forced a nod.

The door opened. I swallowed my pride and stepped inside the

tiger's den.