Jasmine was walking behind a tall chubby nun, doing her very best to hide from Youxia’s creepy eye. He was leading their group through an orchard of short trees with glass leaves. The fruit hanging from their branches shimmered with golden light . . .

Everything drew on vital aura, so if she consumed one of the dangling edibles, it would be like downing an elixir! Kind of. She’d have to shove at least a couple dozen down her gullet if she wanted to come close to absorbing that much spiritual energy.

But still.

She was tempted to grab one and hide it in her robe.

She was passing beneath one right now. All she had to do was reach out, grab the glowing delicacy, and pluck. There was only one problem . . .

She peeked around her chubby friend.

Youxia—wearing his typical black—was striding at the head of a group of monks wearing yellow robes. Jasmine, along with her fellow green-robed nuns, was following just behind them.

A fist-sized, shadowy eye hovered above their bald heads, looking at each of them in turn. When its vertical, reptilian pupil found Jasmine, it held. She glanced down, suppressing a shiver. Then, she stubbed her toe on a rock. Pain shot up her foot. “Āiyō!” she cursed, hobbling while glancing back at the stone, giving it the stink eye.

“You,” a sweet voice sang, “shouldn’t saaaaay . . .” Her voice went high as she held the note. “ . . . thaaaat.”

Jasmine limped as she glanced to her side. Pui, a young nun wearing a robe one size too big, strode beside her, bouncing with each step. She wore a headwrap similar to Jasmine’s, only it was pink, not green.

“What?” Jasmine asked, a smirk tugging the corner of her lips. “Āiyō?”

“Yes,” Pui said. How old was she now? Ten? Eleven? “It’s a bad word.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

Pui smiled. “You’re welcome.” She reached up and tightened her baggy headwrap. It was one of Jasmine’s. She’d given it to Pui the day they became roommates.

The path widened as trees gave way to quartz houses. They sparkled in the light of the sun. Men, women and children tended to a community garden. All of the plants had white leaves with glowing flowers.

“Monks,” Youxia shouted, glancing back. “You will begin your service here.” He gestured to the garden. The monks bowed and hurried forward. One helped a shirtless old man to his feet; another dropped to his knees, assisting a woman who was pulling weeds.

Jasmine noted the badges clipped to most of the farmers’ vests. They were made of tin, with the character 农 etched into them. It meant peasant, or lower class. Jasmine’s heart was slamming against her chest, blood simmering.

They try to label us, her sister had said. They want to fit us into boxes, control who we are, and what we become. Don’t let them.

Youxia was marching over, his one working eye scanning the nuns’ faces. Jasmine remained behind her chubby friend, peeking from around her arm, plugging her nose. She smelled of rotten onions. “Nuns!” Youxia said. “We’re heading to the main part of town.”

Jasmine had to suppress a groan. But there was no need for it. She wasn’t here to serve the bossy Silvers. She was here to break into the library, slink her way past the sentries, and come away armed with the supreme power of knowledge!

“Come on,” Pui said, grabbing Jasmine’s hand, and pulling her forward as the nuns followed Youxia.

The path led to an entrance bearing the crest of a sun peeking above the horizon. Men and women wearing conical sedge hats were exiting the gateway, pushing handcarts loaded with supplies.

Inside the walls of the sect were orderly streets with two-story homes made of bricks glowing with a gentle inner light. People walked along the paved roads, some entering shops, others chatting amiably. Jasmine kept close to the wall, staying away from the rushing crowd as she fiddled with the neck of her robe

Youxia was walking up to an old lady who was watering a maple tree growing in front of her house. He took the watering can from her, saying something while he fed the plant.

She folded her shriveled arms, a tiny silver badge glistening on her spotless blouse. When Youxia started watering another planet, her face darkened. She shouted, pointing at the roots of the maple tree. Jasmine couldn’t hear her above the confused chatter of the town, but that haughty expression twisting up her wrinkled features made her gut wrench.

The people here didn’t see them as servants of the Heavens.

They saw them as slaves.

Youxia was a Silver, as was the woman. And there she was, treating him like a Tin! Why did he put up with that? Why did any of them put up with it? She watched Youxia nod as the woman shouted commands. Jasmine smirked. She had to admit, it was rather satisfying seeing a crumpled old hag order him around. If more women were allowed to put men in their place, the world would be a better place. And your mom would still be alive. Her chest clenched, making it difficult to breathe.

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The nuns surrounding Jasmine spread out, heading across the street, finding people to serve. She followed them, Pui’s hand in hers. The girl helped keep her prickling anxiety at bay.

“Who are we going to help today?” Pui asked in her singsong voice.

Jasmine took a deep breath, then exhaled, relieving some of the pressure in her chest. She stroked her chin, considering the girl’s question . . .

It was soon replaced by a different one. How am I going to reach the library without arousing suspicion? Youxia would undoubtedly have his eye on her. Nuns and the poorer class weren’t allowed to read, but what if she entered the library in the name of service? Would he still try to stop her?

“Hey, nuns!” a harsh voice called above the chatter. “Get over here!” A man built like an ox was waving them over. Jasmine’s skin prickled and she hesitated, stopping in the middle of the street. Someone shoved her aside. She tripped, slamming into the cobblestones. Pain shot through her, but she couldn’t lay there! She quickly hurried to her feet, blood boiling as she spun to face the fool who pushed her down. A man and his wife were leading a donkey along, not paying her the slightest bit of attention.

“Jasmine,” a tender voice whimpered.

She turned. Pui was kneeling on the ground, looking at scuffed palms. Tears dripped from her eyes.

Jasmine’s heart ached as she reached for her, pulling her away from traffic, and towards the ox of a man. “Are you okay?” she asked, checking Pui’s wounds. The scuffs were bleeding slightly. Jasmine clenched her jaw, glaring back at the donkey couple as they trotted off.

Idiots.

“I’m fine,” Pui whispered. She straightened her back, wiping tears from her eyes with her baggy sleeve.

Idiots!

Jasmine imagined running up to the donkey owners and slapping them in the face, demanding they apologize. This kind of blatant disrespect wasn’t new, but every time it happened, Jasmine couldn’t suppress the rage.

“I’m okay,” Pui said, putting on a confident front. “Really, I am.” She unwound her pink headdress, revealing a bald head. As she wrapped it around her wounds, making it look like she was wearing fabric manacles, Jasmine shook her head.

“Those húndàns,” Jasmine hissed.

“Jasmine!” Pui tapped Jasmine’s nose. “Language.”

“They pushed us over!”

“They’re children of the Gods. Our brothers and sisters.”

“That doesn’t give them the right to hurt us.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Pui sniffed. “But it gives us a chance to learn patience and forgiveness. A double lesson.”

Jasmine was shaking her head, skin flushing. Maqi trickled through her meridians, and if she could form frozenflames, or bladed iron, she was certain that nothing would hold her back from throwing a violent technique at those donkey-owning freaks.

“I need you to deliver this to my brother!” the ox man yelled once they reached him, his harsh voice scraping Jasmine’s ears. He held out a small wooden box. “His address is on the bottom. Any questions?”

Jasmine’s heart slammed uncontrollably. Scat, this was so sudden! She stared at the box, trembling with suppressed emotions.

“I said, any questions?” the man repeated, his patience wearing thin.

Jasmine swallowed, spit sliding down a dry throat. She didn’t want to look the man in the eye, and she almost felt like she couldn’t, but this guy might slap her for refusing to meet his gaze. Most men did.

As she looked upon his squished face, and into those eyes that seemed too close together, her body buzzed and she seemed to shrink . . .

She was a little girl again, her back to the wall, trembling in terror as Father loomed over her, eyes bloodshot.

“I said,” the ox man muttered, leaning down, “do you have any questions?” His breath smelled of cow dung.

Lips tight, Jasmine shook her head. The man narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decide whether he should hit her or not. Sweat trickled down Jasmine’s back, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. If this man wanted to, he could slam her into the ground, and grind her to powder. His badge was silver, putting him in the upper class. But she wasn’t stealing anything, so he would have to answer to the High Council for such a crime. . . . But. If she had been stealing, no one would care if he murdered her.

“Bow,” he ordered.

Jasmine and Pui quickly bowed at the waist.

“Hmph.” He turned and walked away.

Jasmine straightened her back, muscles tight. She was staring straight ahead, as if beholding the ghost of a man who could have smothered her to paste.

“Breathe, Jasmine.” Pui patted her arm.

Jasmine sighed, but the tightness didn’t let up.

“Shall we deliver it?” Pui tapped the box, sounding chipper.

Jasmine frowned. How are you so happy? She’d been assaulted by donkey jerks, and confronted by a domineering Silver. All in the span of five minutes! What else was bound to happen? And how would Pui react to it? Didn’t she see the unfairness surrounding them? The injustice? Or was she just unhealthily optimistic? No, that’s not it. There was something more. Something deeper. Perhaps Pui was a reincarnated saint? That would explain her superhuman kindness.

“Hello?” Pui waved her hand in front of Jasmine’s face. “Earth to Jasmine.”

Jasmine cleared her throat, feeling slightly lightheaded.

“Are we going to deliver it?” Pui poked the box.

“Deliver the box?” Nether no! She wasn’t here to do the sect’s bidding. She was here to learn how to cultivate. How to form her dantian. How to reach Tin! But she couldn’t tell that to Pui. And this box seemed like a great excuse to roam around in search of the library. “Let’s do it.”

Pui smiled, clapping her hands. Then she froze, eyeing the crowded road. “Uh . . .” She licked her lips. “We should probably stick to the side streets.”

Jasmine watched as rice workers hustled along, wearing massive packs. Orchardists guided donkeys bearing sacks of glowing fruit. Teachers from the School of Rising Sun meandered along, wearing loose white robes bearing the crest of a sun peeking above the horizon.

“You’re right,” Jasmine whispered, claustrophobia inflating within her chest. “Let’s take the side streets.”