Zu followed through on his word, and the first thing Lian did with her money was rent out the Screaming Goat for a private performance.

“Don’t make me do this,” Yaling begged. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You almost cost us our lives in there,” An reminded Yaling.

“But then I saved them, so doesn’t that mean we’re all even now?”

“No, not even close. At the slightest hint that you could have gotten access to perpetual youth, you ditched us. Even saving our lives doesn’t make up for that.”

“I was just trying to get the book peacefully. It’s always elaborate plans and swords and arrows with you two. Sometimes walking in the front door and charming the pants off someone works too.”

“It’s not going to help you,” Lian explained. “Your audience is waiting.”

With a shove Lian ejected Yaling onto the stage at the Screaming Goat, the entire hall – built for hundreds – empty except for the barbers who had cut Lian’s hair. Their awed expressions as they saw Yaling – in full performance makeup and clothing – was priceless. Yaling, always a true professional, bowed then began the show. Lian and An joined the audience a few tables away, Yaling’s sonorous voice echoing in the too-empty hall.

“So it’s not quite Slave Island money,” Lian said as she poured An a small cup of expensive sorghum liquor, “but you can do a lot with fifty gold pieces. You got any plans for your newfound wealth?”

“I may actually go visit the Slave Islands,” she chuckled. “I want to sit on a warm beach for a few months I think.”

“As one relatively wealthy woman to another,” Lian made a sweeping gesture with her arm to indicate she was trying to impart some very valuable wisdom to her friend, “don’t blow it all on prostitutes and expensive meals.”

“You speak from experience?”

“I do.”

“Ok. Message received.” An paused a second, then cocked an eyebrow to her friend. “A few prostitutes are ok though, right?”

Lian laughed. “Just make sure you don’t fall in love with any of them and you’ll be fine.”

An downed her shot of liquor and inhaled deeply, airing out the burn in her throat. “I could get used to drinking this well, at least.”

Lian smiled, turned to watch Yaling singing one of her audience’s favorite songs about two star-crossed peasant lovers who were both actually the rightful inheritors of two Kingdoms, whose love conquered all and saw them rise to their rightful places and marry, forming a bond that lasted a thousand generations. It was called The Ballad of Zhou and Tan, and Lian had always thought it was utter bullshit on every level. But that day, she wanted to believe in something positive and impossibly happy. Especially after how close she and An had come to a very terrible fate.

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“Hey,” she turned back to face An. “I’m sorry about… you know, costing you a finger. I should have given him my name.”

An played with her glass with the wounded hand, but was looking right into Lian’s eyes. “You didn’t cost me anything. That asshole did. You helped me get paid.” She raised her drink and then swallowed it whole.

Ten songs later the barbers were all drunk out of their minds, crying and pleading for Yaling to marry them. She promised them she would, one at a time, sending them into pure bliss for the few minutes they stayed awake. Then it was the three friends sitting alone in the Screaming Goat, enjoying the cavernous hall as their own small taste of the riches they’d been promised.

“I would never let him hurt you if I knew you were in there,” Yaling told the other two, her voice loaded with sincerity and apology. “He didn’t tell me he’d caught two women – it was a fluke that I managed to tag along just then.”

“When did you figure out he didn’t have the Book of Dragons?” An asked.

“Like two days in. He told me everything, all his agents, all his plans, everything. He was quite a terrible conspirator actually. I spent the rest of the time looking for a way out, or a chance to set his people free.”

An and Lian exchanged a look.

“Really?” Lian asked. “You couldn’t find a way out of there in a week?”

“Well…” Yaling backtracked slightly. “He may have promised me my own performance hall here in the city, too…”

An put her good hand on Yaling’s shoulder. “And you gave it up for us?”

“Of course.”

An was truly touched.

“Thanks for saving us,” Lian said, realizing neither she nor An had done so. “When I told you how to kill someone, I never thought you’d actually have to do it.”

“Yeah, well…” Yaling’s head dropped and she drank another deep cup full of wine. “Hey! Did I tell you I’ve been writing a song about our little adventure?”

Lian rolled her eyes. “Really? I don’t think Zu will appreciate us spreading word of his plans.”

“Well of course I’ve sanitized it a bit. Removed Zu from the equation, and kind of, you know, turned us into valiant heroes set on saving the Empire from the evil Prefect wielding the evil Book of Terrors. You know, basic storytelling stuff.”

“Hey, where did the book go, anyway?” Lian asked.

“Oh I burned it as soon as we got out of there,” Yaling responded. “Remember that public bonfire we passed on our way to the hospital? I threw it in there.”

Lian remembered no such bonfire, but An – by this point four drinks in – nodded sagely and congratulated her friend on her quick thinking. Lian made a mental note to keep an eye on Yaling all the same.

“You think it’ll be a big hit?” An asked Yaling about her song.

“Of course. And we’ll all be big stars because of it.”

Lian groaned. Yaling clearly did not understand that fame was not a comforting thought to a Shuli Go.

“You think they’ll remember us fondly?” An asked, looking into her empty cup. “I mean, when we’re all dead and gone?”

“Of course!” Yaling stood up on the table, downed her drink and threw the cup on the floor. “Who needs a husband? Or an entire island? They’ll all disappear with us when we die! But we can live on in the stories they tell!”