The Poppy War

He’s going to kill me. He’s actually going to kill me

“I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!”

She was far from fucking calm. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to scream at someone. Anger pulsed through her like a wave of heat.

Success required sacrifice. Sacrifice meant pain. Pain meant success.

“We aren’t here to be sophisticated. We’re here to fuck people up.

They’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them. That’s okay. Don’t let any of that discourage you. No matter what they say, you deserve to be here.

but the system is designed to keep the poor and illiterate in their place. You’re offending them with your very presence.

She knew their names, of course—the White Tiger, the Black Tortoise, the Azure Dragon, and the Vermilion Bird.

Pain could make her focus.

If a tree by a well-traveled road has this much fruit, then there must be something wrong with the fruit.

“A scholar traveling a well-trodden road passes a pear tree. The tree is laden with fruit so heavy that the branches bend over with its weight. Yet he does not pick the fruit. Why?”