A Magic Steeped in Poison

“Even when Mother was alive, even when I was happy in the gardens with my family, I always felt like I was orbiting them, occupying a similar space but charting my own invisible course, with no idea where it would take me.

Maybe I’m about to find out.”

As Ning rides the ferry to leave her province, she reflects on her feelings of loneliness and realizes that this inner sense was always with her, even among her village and family. Combined with other descriptions that label her something of a “troublemaker”—or more charitably, a strong and willful young woman who is not afraid to speak her mind honestly—Ning realizes that she has always felt like an outsider. She now hopes that her journey will take her someplace where she feels like she belongs.

“‘Is she? I’m more interested to know if she has truly survived a hundred assassination attempts,’ Bo says. ‘Some say the princess has a talisman that can guard her from ill will, or a stone that cures all illness, gifted by the mysterious shennong-shi who saved her father’s life.’”

In Ning’s first encounter with Bo/Kang, he intrigues her with this rumor about a talisman that can heal all illnesses. Although this rumor proves to be false, his offhand comment also represents a slyly inserted form of exposition, allowing the author to convey a sense of the world of the court without slowing the plot’s forward momentum. The false rumor also aligns with Ning’s primary motivation to save her sister’s life.

“When you’re told since you came out of the womb that you can do anything, why would you ever hesitate? If you were told at birth that the world is supposed to bow down to you, you would think it natural that you are destined to climb.”

During the first round of the competition, Ning silently judges Shao’s arrogance and showboating. She draws the connection between his attitude and his privileged upbringing, highlighting the novel’s broader critique of classism. As the contest progresses, this is just one example of the class divide that Ning will be forced to struggle against. Additionally, this issue is often symbolized by the tea that each competitor has access to.

“These are merely human hands, another thing my mother often said. […] Human hands make mistakes, Ning, but they are the hands the gods gave us. We use them to make amends, to do good things.

And that is what this brew is about. The taste of being human. Of making mistakes. Of being young again. The reminder that sometimes we are the laborer and sometimes we are the one at rest.”

When it is Ning’s turn to perform in the first round, she further highlights the way that tea represents the class divide between the nobility and the working class. However, her tea is intended to remind the nobility that they are all human and are basically the same. She wishes to demonstrate the idea that tea can also function as a connection between the classes, but when she is quickly admonished and accused of treasonous thought, she is forced to realize that these class divides are more deeply entrenched than she realized and cannot be dissolved with a single, clever presentation.

“My eyes skim over the faces of the guests, then… my heart drops. I recognize the face leering at the lovely musician, and the two men with their heads together, clinking cups. Every single one of them in the room looks familiar.

It’s Shao, and other shennong-tu from the competition. Breaking the rules, cavorting with the judges.”

Mistaken for a servant, Ning witnesses the party in Marquis Kuang’s room and quickly realizes that the wealthier, well-connected competitors can cheat with impunity. She now understands that the nobility and the officials have already decided who their favorites are. This blatant disregard for the rules increases her sense of isolation and alienation and contributes to the novel’s focus on The Corrosive Impact of Political Intrigue.

“This boy is more than he seems. Not the slightly clumsy, eager-to-please Bo I met in the market, who spoke about his family and growing up in the capital. This boy, crouching on the ground in the dark, is a weapon.”

One of the major elements of The Corrosive Impact of Political Intrigue is the idea that no one is who they initially appear to be. This fact is best represented by Kang, whom Ning first believes to be a wealthy soldiers’ son named Bo, even though he is in fact the adopted son of the Banished Prince. When she encounters him for the second time in Chapter 12, she is struck by the difference in his appearance, his mannerisms, and his attitude.

“A peculiar expression crosses his face. ‘Ning,’ he sighs, and a shiver runs through me. ‘You… you have power. More than you know. More power than those foolish nobles in their grand residences, protected from the hardships of the world. You know what it’s like out there, living each day wondering if you will survive the next. You have hungered.’”

In this scene, Kang responds to Ning’s self-deprecating statement that she is simply a peasant girl from Su. By impressing upon her the true extent of her power and indicating that it comes in part from her status as a peasant girl, he demonstrates a better understanding of her and of the world’s realities than any other character has thus far shown. In short, he sees both her innate power and her sense of anger and desperation over the injustices of the world. This is something that the two have in common, and they bond over this point as their relationship grows.

“I need to get the information the princess is looking for, but I cannot grow to care for him in the meantime. I cannot have someone else to feel an obligation to, or else how could I betray him if I needed to?

How can I give another part of myself to someone else, when I already have so little to give?”

In this moment, feeling The Tension between Personal Desires and Social Obligations, Ning attempts to distance herself from Kang so that she can refocus her efforts on finding her sister’s cure. She also feels caught between her feelings for Kang and her obligation to follow Zhen’s orders and thereby protect her family from harm. In essence, she fears that if she gives in to her romantic feelings, she will become beholden to yet another person and lose part of herself.

“I am beginning to understand that history is never so simple. Not the story of my parents, not the story of Kang’s parents, or the two of us. I quickly bury the thought, knowing it is something dangerous, something I do not dare imagine.”

Just as people are not always what they first appear to be, neither are the stories and histories that Ning has been taught throughout her life. This is another important element of The Corrosive Impact of Political Intrigue, and the scene therefore contributes to the layers of deception that surround the palace and the kingdom.

“‘I’m saying it’s not your fault,’ he says. ‘The emperor, the ruler of Daxi, surrounded by all his guards, could not prevent his own death at the hands of someone who wished him ill. You could not have known about the poison. Even your mother, a trained shennong-shi, did not detect it before she drank it.’”

Even as Kang demonstrates a compassionate understanding of Ning’s guilt and emotional turmoil, his words betray that he holds a nonstandard view of the recent political developments. His insistence that she could not have known about the poison shifts her thinking about her guilt over her mother’s death, which has haunted her from the first line of the novel, and his kindness suggests that in this moment, Kang is a benign source of help and comfort. However, as Ning reflects, his suggestion to blame the officials for the death of the emperor also borders on treason.

“For a moment I consider leaving her to die. Permit this course of perverse justice if she is truly the one who distributed the poison throughout the empire. But I shake the thought off easily. Saving Shu’s life is more important than my desire for vengeance, and if I save Ruyi’s life, it will bring me closer to the truth.”

Upon discovering that Ruyi is the Shadow, Ning discovers a capability for spite, cruelty, and cold calculation that she did not realize she possessed. However, her momentary cruelty is somewhat mitigated by the fact that it stems from The Galvanizing Force of Sisterly Love. Notably, her crueler thoughts fade as quickly when she recalls that keeping Ruyi alive is in Shu’s best interests.

“I spit the medicinal ball out of my mouth. It splatters on the wood floor with a sickening sizzle, and smoke rises from the pulp. The smoke forms itself into a lithe, twisted form. Grotesque protrusions begin to sprout from the serpentine body, and three heads emerge, features shaping themselves before our eyes like a sculptor forming wet clay.”

Although the symbol of the serpent has appeared once before, this is the first example that indicates a deeper, malevolent intelligence at work in the more nefarious aspects of the plot. In this scene, Ning’s efforts to heal Ruyi reveal a shift from the motif of shadows to the more immediate danger of the serpent, which symbolizes poison and hints at a larger threat to come.

“‘You heard the warning Elder Guo gave us. If the bird dies, we’ll be removed from the competition, and worse.’

I puzzle over this, not understanding, until the realization comes. Kill the bird, strike us from the competition. With the bird in our care, we’re vulnerable to sabotage.

‘Games within games,’ I mutter, sick of the intrigue. It reminds me again of my own ignorance.”

Ning is continually surprised by the complexity and dangers of the political games at play in the palace. Though she has already become entangled in the intrigue and corruption at court, she feels increasingly outclassed by the challenges that beset her, and she keenly feels her own lack of experience. She is also chagrined to realize that she did not consider, as Lian did, that the cheating might escalate to killing the piya bird. Her relative innocence demonstrates just how out of place she is among the nobility.

“When we leave the chamber, I feel the ghost of a brand on my chest. I remember when Kang spoke of the loss of his mothers, the one who birthed him and the one who took him in, so much like the loss of my own. Could he have concealed his hate so well? His desire for revenge?

He lied to me, a quiet voice protests within, stinging from the betrayal.

I know better now.”

Having learned from Zhen and the Chancellor that Kang has been meeting with the marquis and that the primary ingredient of the poison comes from Luzhou, Ning concludes that Kang has been lying to her the entire time. She bitterly decides that she cannot trust him, finally applying the hard lessons she has learned about deception and intrigue in the palace.

“I thought I wanted to bring home all the riches a palanquin could carry, show them that the pregnant girl they scorned has a daughter who is adviser to a princess, prove to my mother’s family that we are worthy of their recognition. But in the end, it is always the thought of Shu, the certainty she is waiting for me at the end that propels me.”

In this lament, Ning realizes that she briefly became distracted by the wealth and power of the court and began to harbor ambitions of wielding such power herself. However, because her desire for wealth and recognition conflicts with her duty to her sister, she ultimately relinquishes these self-serving visions and returns to her original purpose. Her father’s letter about Shu’s declining condition is instrumental to this shift, reminding her of her primary goal and helping her to choose a side in The Tension between Personal Goals and Social Obligations.

“Surprise flickers across his face, then his mouth draws into a thin line. ‘If I swear to you right now, on the old gods, that I didn’t know about this, would you believe me?’

I remind myself that he is an adept performer, able to wear his expression as smoothly as any mask.

‘Does it matter?’ I ask, and he flinches like I’ve struck him.”

By this point, Ning has attempted to balance her many obligations, including her sister’s life, her feelings for Kang, and her orders from Zhen. Now, believing that Kang’s intentions are incompatible with her own and fearing that he has told her nothing but lies, she harshly rejects him. However, Kang’s reaction demonstrates that his feelings are real and hints that Ning may still not know the truth of what is happening in the palace.

“All the lies I’ve told, the choices I’ve made, all the things I did to get to this point, and in the end, this is what ruins me. The shame of the family. A girl, born to an unwed mother.”

Ning is disqualified from the competition after the Esteemed Qian discovers that she lied about being a shennong-tu and is actually the daughter of a disgraced royal physician and an unwed mother. Ning finds it ironic that in the face of the many dangerous and questionable things she has done to succeed, it is the social disgrace of her family that should actually cause her downfall.

“I’m surrounded by soldiers adorned with black pearls, and they are all dressed in the armor of the city guard, following the orders of the governor of Su.

My heart is suddenly too loud inside my chest, beating a steady warning. Something is horribly wrong.”

This moment marks a crucial shift in the plot as Ning realizes that she has underestimated the depth and danger of the political intrigue and deception at play. The image of soldiers wearing black pearls connects to her conversation with Kang about the black pearls that made the Luzhou artisans famous, foreshadowing the arrival of Li Yuan and a second coup.

“I realize too late what I should have seen all alone.

He already knows.

I have not been paraded in front of the citizens of Jia and given the humiliation of a public trial. I thought it was because he wanted to make a quick example of me, but now I see his true goal: A corpse can no longer speak.”

Though Ning now realizes that someone has helped Luzhou soldiers access the palace and is working for Li Yuan, it is not until this moment that she at least understands that the Chancellor is the one responsible. Despite her efforts to play the political games and choose those she trusts with more care, she still makes the wrong choice, electing to trust the chancellor over Kang.

“I stare back at her. I suppose I could lie, say something pretty and useless that she wants to hear. But I’ve always been a terrible liar, and I’m tired of lying now.

‘My loyalty rests with the rule who will protect her people from harm,’ I tell her. ‘With someone who does not use human lives as pawns.’”

Despite the danger that Ning faces, including the possibility of execution, she now refuses to play the game of deception or use “pretty” lies to save herself. Instead, she tells Ruyi the truth, withholding her trust and loyalty to the princess until she has seen proof of Zhen’s suitability to rule. In this moment, she gambles that Ruyi will demonstrate a similar level of integrity, and she is not disappointed.

“Zhen turns on him, eyes flashing fire. ‘She is my family, and they tried to hurt me through her. I’ve tried to send her away for her own protection, and she crossed the entire empire to save me. I will never leave her again.’”

Just as Ning would do anything to save her sister, Zhen also demonstrates a similar loyalty to Ruyi. Though Zhen and Ruyi’s relationship is romantic rather than sisterly in nature, the motivation and strength that Zhen derives from that relationship is a trait that she shares with Ning. This common ground allows the two to overcome differences that would otherwise have kept them at cross-purposes.

“A man stumbles into me, a vial of the same powder the general had given us rolling out of his pocket. It comes to a stop near my foot. I pick it up, noticing the gray tinge. This must be the pearl powder Kang spoke of, revered among his people.”

The scene in the teahouse, when Ning witnesses the general pour pearl powder into his soldiers’ drinks, functions as a plot device to provide Ning with the crucial information that she needs to complete the antidote recipe and save her sister’s life. She also catches one last glimpse of intrigue-in-progress as the Banished Prince readies his preparations for a second coup.

“I see the answers to the questions I’ve been asking all along—why the poison was undetectable even by the most experienced shennong-shi, why the royal physicians could not find the antidote.

It’s because this poison was created by something else entirely. Something ancient and waiting, biding its time. […] It hates Shennong and all his followers. It despises the old gods and all humankind, everything they represent.”

Echoing Ning’s encounter with the serpent when she healed Ruyi, Ning now faces a similar serpent in the Shift when she seeks to heal Shu. This moment reinforces the symbolic importance of the serpent and indicates that the true villain of the duology is not the general or any other human, but rather the mythical Golden Serpent or something connected to this displaced supernatural entity.