If defeating Wei Fang hadn't brought me enough satisfaction, the fact that I passed the strategist exam in a single day certainly did.
Yet something felt…off. Why were their faces frozen in shock as I finished my answer?
"Meilina, I—how did you know what to do…?" Renshu finally spoke, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Did I answer incorrectly?" I asked, unsure.
"You heard him, didn't you?" Renshu stepped closer, voice rising. "This campaign happened fifteen years ago. He bragged to anyone who would listen about the brilliance of his strategy—and you… you gave the exact same solution!"
He stared at me as though I had just stolen a national secret.
"I didn't copy anything," I said, confused. "I thought of it myself."
"No, surely—"
"It's the truth. No one told me about his campaign."
Renshu's gaze narrowed, as if he could snatch the answer from my skull. "Then how did you think of it? Are you naturally 'gifted' at strategy as well? Just like how you're 'naturally' gifted at sword fighting and—"
He stopped mid-sentence, jaw clenching. Something unsaid hung to stop him.
Annoyance crawled through me. Shouldn't he be happy that I passed?
"Leave. Go to your room," he ordered abruptly.
With nothing else to say, I obeyed, my steps echoing in the hidden corridors.
The dining hall was deserted, the carpets soft underfoot. Servants glanced my way but quickly looked elsewhere, as if instructed to ignore me.
Fine by me. I climbed the grand staircase in silence, the weight of his strange anger settling over me.
In my chamber I removed the day's makeup—it stung my skin anyway, and collapsed onto the bed. The exhaustion of dueling, strategizing, and dealing with Renshu drained every ounce of strength. My stomach rumbled, but I doubted anyone would dare bring me food.
Renshu probably told the servants to not bring me any either way.With a sigh, I surrendered to sleep, hoping dinner would somehow appear by the time I woke.
---
Evening
Bang!
A thunderous knock jolted me awake. Someone was trying to break my door off its hinges.
I stumbled up, still drowsy. "Who's there?!" I shouted, pitching my voice lower in a poor attempt to sound masculine.
"It's me, Meilina. You don't have to force your voice like that."
Renshu? What was he doing here? Had he come to revoke my promotion?
"Open the door! I've been standing here for half an hour!"
Reluctantly, I unlatched it.
The door swung inward and he nearly toppled onto me.
"My apologies," he said with a crooked grin. "I came to check if you were alive."
"I was asleep,"
"I can tell."
He chuckled at his own weak joke. For someone who says Wei Fang is humorless, he is surprisingly not much different.
"Did you even eat lunch? I told the servants to prepare dinner for you. Here."
Before I could answer, he shoved two plates into my arms.
I stared at the food, suspicious. Why the sudden kindness? Was this some elaborate poisoning scheme?
"Eat," he commanded, turning on his heel.
He didn't have to tell me twice. I sat at the desk and devoured the meal, hunger overwhelming caution. Poison or not, it tasted heavenly.
A short while later he returned, this time carrying two bottles of alcohol.
"You're an official now. We should celebrate." He handed me one.
Alcohol was a rare indulgence in Bharat, once I became a maid it became even rarer. Still, refusing a general seemed unwise. I took a few tentative sips. The sharp burn clawed down my throat and lingered on my tongue.
I risked a glance at Renshu. His bottle was already empty, his cheeks flushed crimson. He swayed slightly, eyes hazy. I couldn't help laughing. What kind of general lost a battle to a bottle of alcohol?
"Heyyy… why are you laughing? Help me up."
I hauled him to his feet. He promptly collapsed against my shoulder, nearly dragging us both down.
He laughed, half-slurred. "Pathetic, right? I hate being like this, but… I like it too. Meilina, do you know why I'm jealous of you?"
Jealous? My breath stopped.
"I can't help it," he continued, hiccuping. "I lost to a woman. Strategy? You're better. Sword fighting? Better. Might as well name you the next—" another hiccup "—the next general."
He rested his head on my shoulder, heavy and warm, while my mind spun.
Jealous of me? A maid? Shouldn't it be the other way around? He had rank, power, the respect of the army. I had… quick thinking and over ten years of sword training which he could easily surpass as a man.
"Do you think I'm pathetic, Meilina?" His voice dropped to a raw whisper. "Do you think I'm worse than you?"
"No," I said firmly.
His head lifted, eyes searching mine. "You… don't?"
"No," I repeated with a sigh. "A general who calls himself pathetic sounds more pathetic than any loss could make him."
For a heartbeat he just stared, then smiled faintly. "Do you like me, Meilina?"
I kept silent. We weren't nearly close enough for me to have an answer, yet his face inched closer, warm breath fanning across my skin.
My heart thudded. Push him away and he might fall. Hold still and—
His soft hair brushed my cheek; his grey eyes hovered a breath away.
Then—thunk.
His head dropped onto my shoulder again. Passed out cold.
I exhaled a shaky breath of relief.
Now what? Carry a fully grown general back to his chamber? Impossible.
But my bed was right here.
Grunting, I half-dragged, half-rolled him onto the narrow mattress, maneuvering his long legs until he finally lay flat. By the end I was sweating and breathless.
I eyed the empty space beside him. No. Absolutely not. Sleeping in the same bed as a drunk general was a recipe for scandal.
Instead I slipped into the hallway, padding through the silent palace.
I'd never explored these corridors before, but it didn't take long to find an unused guest room. I collapsed onto the spare bed, exhaustion finally winning.
As my eyes drifted shut, I wondered what tomorrow would bring, a hungover general, awkward conversations, and perhaps another stage of my life as an official.