Page 10 of Never Ever After

Farmer Lan nods, but then his eyes narrow. “Why don’t you sell them in the market?”

He doesn’t know about my encounter with the soldiers yesterday; he’s just scenting out any weakness. “Maybe I’ll do just that,” I say brightly. “Farmer Min offered to let me rent a section of his table,” I lie, dropping in the name of his rival.

Farmer Lan scowls as Songmin bends to pick up a pear. As he bites into it, juice glistens on his lips, my throat growing dry.

“I’d offer thirty-five,” he tells his father. “They are sweet.”

“Forty,” I correct him. “And you’ll have to pay for that one whether we strike a deal or not.”

Songmin’s eyes widen with mock hurt. “You won’t give me one?”

“You didn’t ask.” I smile at him, then turn to his father. “Do we have a deal?”

The farmer nods grudgingly, counting out the coins into a pouch that he hands to me. As I take it, Songmin lifts the heavy basket.

“I’ll put these in the shed,” he tells his father, though he’s looking at me.

My pulse quickens. After Farmer Lan goes back inside, I wait before making my way to the shed. The moment I step through the doorway, Songmin pulls me to him, his other hand slamming the door shut. It’s dark inside, smelling of earth and dampness—not pleasant, but his fingers are threading through my hair, pulling it loose from its braid. His lips find mine and he kisses me, edging me back until the wall presses against me. There is a new urgency to his touch, one that cautions more than it tempts.

Songmin tugs at my robe, pulling it off one shoulder. A cold rush douses any remnant of desire. I recoil, pushing at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. Anger sparks as I shove harder, but he’s strong from working in the fields.

“Stop.” I don’t dare raise my voice, afraid of his father hearing.

“Why? No one will come here,” he murmurs into my ear.

As Songmin’s hand slides to my chest—my knee flies up instinctively, slamming against his groin. He releases me, muttering a vile curse. With his eyes slitted, his mouth pinched, he looks nothing like the boy I’ve kissed and laughed with before today.

“You kicked me,” he seethes.

“Because you wouldn’t stop.” I straighten my robe with shaking hands, feeling at once lost and furious. I liked him… but not enough for this.

“Who are you saving yourself for? The prince?” He laughs scathingly, and for the first time, I realize Farmer Lan may not be the meanest person in his family. “You’re lucky I’m even wasting my time with you.”

“I’m the one wasting my time.” It takes me a moment to answer, to bury the urge to cry.

A cruel smile stretches across Songmin’s face as he looms over me. “Girls like you aren’t good for anything but five minutes in a shed.”

His brutal jab stings but I lift my head and grin. “Is five minutes all you’re good for?”

I yank the door open and stalk away before he can reply, his mockery ringing in my ears. I rub the wooden ring on my finger, a comfort when I’m unsettled. While I never believed it was serious between us, I thought Songmin at least liked me. He deserved worse than the kick. I should have cut him; I wish I had.

I snatch a handful of pea shoots from the farmer’s field as I leave. Petty, but it eases this splinter in my heart. Shame burns that I let him kiss me. But most of all, I’m angry—at him, at myself… for being a fool, for thinking he saw me for more than I appeared, and for imagining there was anyone here who cared.

CHAPTER FIVE

I t’s raining, hard slivers pelting down, but I welcome it. Rain makes it easier to pretend the water in my eyes isn’t tears, that I’m not stupid enough to shed them over something meaningless. But I’m not crying just for Songmin or the things he said. If life is a game, I lose each round. Everything I touch turns to ash; everyone I love, I’ve lost.

The forest folds me in its familiar embrace. The air smells of grass and earth, the rain lightening to a drizzle. I shiver, breaking into a run to keep warm. As I weave through the bamboo stalks, my feet instinctively take me back to the pond, though I can’t say why—I don’t even have a net to catch the carp. Maybe it’s to recapture the fleeting wonder I felt there, the tranquility.

I hadn’t imagined it. The flowers are still in bloom, the pears hanging from the trees invitingly. I’ll pluck more to ease Mistress Henglan’s suspicions at my delay. I just don’t want to go home yet; I’d rather be anywhere else.

The reeds rustle, the waters mirroring the gray skies above. As I stand by the edge, staring at my reflection, it ripples abruptly, the carp’s silvery head poking through. It studies me in silence with those golden eyes. I don’t move, deciding it’s wiser to cultivate the creature’s trust rather than attempt to trap it now. I’d only hurt it this way, and a dead fish won’t fetch the gold I need. Part of me recoils at the thought—how vile, to weigh the creature’s life this way—but I’ve learned to do a lot of things I don’t like.

“You’re crying again,” the carp says in its matter-of-fact way.

I blink, wishing my eyes didn’t redden so easily. It helps there’s not a trace of sympathy in the carp’s tone. I don’t like letting others see my weaknesses in case they use them against me.

“Does it make you happy?” I counter. “Because you think I want to harm you?”