The Growth of Su Yao, the Divine Maiden

In the last days of winter, snow still blanketed the capital. Passing carts and horses had ground it into filthy slush, much like Su Yao’s state of mind.

She clutched the slightly oversized coarse cotton robe around herself and tightly bound her long black hair beneath a scholar’s headscarf. Her once jade-smooth face was deliberately smeared with a little yellowish grime. Only her eyes remained clear as stars, though they held a fear and anguish far beyond her years.

The flames soaring above the prime minister’s residence, the anguished screams of her kin and servants, the warm jade pendant her mother pressed into her hand before they parted, and the old steward who fought his way through the darkness to protect her as she fled a bloody path… These scenes returned night after night, gnawing at her soul.

“Yao’er… stay alive… wear this… and never look back…” Her mother’s final words, and the faint warmth of the jade pendant, were the only comfort she had left in this cold world.