by Jeannie Lin
Chapter Two
The journey was a quiet one, with Yan Ling plodding onwards in her slippers while the nobleman rode alongside on his horse. She’d been full of questions at first. How far away was the imperial city and what was his home there like? Fei Long, or Lord Chang, as she was coming to think of him, had a tendency toward short answers. The silence and the ache in her feet slowly drained away her initial sense of adventure.
She stole glances at Chang Fei Long, trying to work out what sort of man she’d tied herself to. It was odd to have such a young master. He was confident in the saddle and the sword at his side seemed like a natural part of him. Everything about him spoke of nobility, from the upward tilt of his chin to the way his shoulders were always pulled back. She tried to imitate his stance when he wasn’t looking and her back grew stiff after a few minutes of it.
He must have been wealthy to live in the capital, though he travelled without any attendants. From what little she’d ascertained, he hadn’t carefully planned this trip to the provinces.
‘Are you tired?’ he asked when they stopped for a rest.
‘No, my lord.’
He’d taken care of watering and feeding the horse, while she stood watching and wondering what her new duties were. The thin slippers she wore were not fit for travel, but she didn’t dare complain even though her feet throbbed with a constant ache. Fei Long was frowning at her so she made sure to remain as quiet as possible.
‘We need to make better time,’ he grumbled.
Maybe she was wrong about him being young. He certainly had the temperament of a grumpy old man at times.
She bit into the steamed bun he’d bought from a street vendor that morning before they’d left town. The pork filling was cold, but she appreciated the savoury sweetness of it. The journey had left her drained. Keeping her mouth full also ensured she couldn’t misspeak. The nobleman might still decide he didn’t need the extra trouble of bringing her along. Surely there were more suitable young women in the imperial city. If he abandoned her out on the open road, she’d have nowhere to go.
A sense of helplessness hovered over her as she finished the meal. She didn’t know Chang Fei Long’s moods yet and it was her duty as a servant to learn those things. He said so little, unlike her former master and mistress who’d had no issues about complaining long and loud.
When he swung himself onto his horse without a word, Yan Ling was certain he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. She started preparing her plea, but instead he extended his hand.
‘Come,’ he said, when she didn’t move. ‘You barely weigh a tan. The horse can carry us both.’
His broad fingers engulfed her slender ones. He tightened his hold to tug her upwards as she braced her foot over his in the stirrup. It was miserable beyond description. She felt like a rag doll, hefted onto the back of the saddle. They were higher off the ground than she had anticipated and she wobbled, clutching on to Fei Long’s robe. Fortunately he held on to her and finally got her settled in behind him.
She was pressed against him, closer than she’d ever been to any man. The expanse of his back and shoulders stretched out before her and her first thought was—how was she supposed to hold on? The warmth of him lingered even after he let go.
Yan Ling had never clung to a man like this, the intimacy all the worse for being forced. She’d never ridden a horse before either and was certain she’d fall and break a bone. The horse gave a snort and shifted forwards. In a panic, she grabbed on to Fei Long’s waist, hugging him too tightly. He tossed an irritated glance over his shoulder and she loosened her grip. She shifted on the saddle, trying to find her balance. Eventually she settled on holding on to his shoulders.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her with his back to her like that. ‘Yes, my lord.’
He urged the horse forwards with a slight movement of his heels. Yan Ling tried her best not to touch him too much as she swayed upon the saddle.
* * *
The sky was beginning to darken when they reached a walled city. The guards stepped aside to let them pass and Fei Long quickly located an inn along the main avenue. They left the horse to an attendant and headed to a brightly lit restaurant. The double doors were thrown open in welcome. Kitchen smells of garlic and cooking fat wafted out into the streets.
Yan Ling fell into step behind Fei Long as he entered the dining area. The day before, he’d entered their little teahouse with the same assured grace. The host spotted them across the crowded dining room, or rather he noticed Fei Long in his fine robe, and hurried over to greet a valued patron. They were directed to a table at the back and she stood awkwardly while Fei Long seated himself and spoke to the host.
She took to looking about the room. The place was twice the size of their teahouse and nearly every table was full. Her fingers ached just looking at the number of bowls and plates out on the tables. It would take hours to wash all the dishes in a place like this.
A young attendant came by carrying tea. Yan Ling shot forwards to intercept him and there was a brief struggle as she gripped the edges of the lacquered tray.
‘Hand it over,’ she scolded, managing to take possession of the tea without spilling a drop. The boy gave her a confused look before wandering off.
She placed the tray onto the table and arranged the porcelain cup neatly in front of Fei Long. At least this was something she knew how to do. The nobleman watched her with that penetrating gaze of his as she poured. When the cup was full, she set the pot down and stepped back with immense relief. This was harder than she’d ever imagined and they were only one day into the trip. What would be expected of her once they reached the great city of Changan?
‘Yan Ling.’ Her name sounded strange coming from his lips. So proper and enunciated. It was almost too elegant to be hers. He gestured to the chair opposite him. ‘Sit down.’
She complied, folding her hands in her lap nervously as she waited. Steam rose from the pot beside her. Fei Long reached for the handle and poured her a cup. She took it from his hands obligingly, but refrained from drinking since he hadn’t yet touched his tea.
He watched her with eyes that were dark and thoughtful. ‘You’re not my servant.’
‘I’m…I’m not?’
He shook his head, looking a bit uncomfortable with the situation himself. ‘You’re not required to attend to me. You are here to learn and I am here to teach you.’
She nodded fervently, though she still didn’t understand. This situation was growing even worse. The uncertainty of it left her bewildered and anxious. In the teahouse she knew exactly what was supposed to be done from the moment she woke up.
‘What am I to learn?’ she asked.
‘Manners. Etiquette. How to write, how to speak. Everything that would be expected of a heqin bride.’
Everything? ‘When was your sister supposed to leave for Khitan?’
‘In three months.’
Her stomach sickened. Lord Chang didn’t look happy
either. Or maybe he always frowned like that. She’d seen that look more on his face than any other. He lifted his cup and she mirrored his movement. The tea was a bit hot so she blew over it gently.
‘You shouldn’t do that.’
She flinched at the reprimand. Hot liquid splashed over her fingers.
‘Wait for the tea to cool and sip slowly.’ He demonstrated while she stared at him incredulously. She did the same, not daring to do much more than touch her lips to the rim.
‘And when you took the cup from me, you did it with one hand.’
Had she?
‘Two hands,’ he went on. ‘With a slight bow of your head as you accept the cup.’
Heaven and earth, she didn’t even know how to drink tea properly! She, who had grown up in a teahouse. But she’d never had the opportunity to accept a cup of tea from anyone. She poured her own tea and drank it in the kitchen with the rest of the servants.
‘Two
hands. Slight bow,’ she recited under her breath.
The next minutes were excruciating. They sat and sipped tea as if it was a sacred ritual, and apparently it was. Fei Long told her about entire classical texts written about tea. She glanced at him over the rim of her cup while she drank. With every moment, she waited for the next arrow to fly: sit straight, head up. No, head too high.
‘Are you a general in the imperial army?’ she blurted out.
‘No. Why?’
He did carry a sword and seemed to like giving commands. ‘I was just wondering,’ she said, glowering.
‘I serve as a squad captain in the north-western garrison,’ he answered stiffly. ‘But I had to leave to attend to my father’s affairs.’
She nodded. Her neck was tired from nodding. ‘That’s a very powerful position, then?’
He stared at her. She realised she was staring back and lowered her gaze.
‘No,’ he replied after a pause, regarding her intently, as if she’d said something highly improper, and took a methodical sip of tea. ‘It is a very worthy post.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She squirmed beneath his scrutiny. ‘I’m certain it must be.’
She didn’t know a thing about military rankings or the
exalted history of tea. Every day would have to be like this if she was going to learn what she needed to know.
Yan Ling was exhausted by the time the food came, but she was grateful to have something besides the nobleman’s discerning stare to occupy herself. Her mouth watered at the dishes placed before her. The journey had worked up her appetite and she piled slices of pork along with sautéed bamboo shoots and greens onto her rice. The flavours were rich with a blend of garlic and chilli. Indeed, a meal for a princess.
Not two bites in, the arrows started again.
‘Slowly,’ he reprimanded in a low voice.
Weariness had beaten down her defences. She narrowed her eyes and shot him a poisoned look of her own. It missed the mark, though. Fei Long was looking downwards, concentrating on the motion of his balanced chopsticks as he ate with perfect moderation.
* * *
Fei Long had occasionally travelled with servants. They rarely needed instruction, always knew their place and moved about unnoticed and unseen. He didn’t know what to do with someone who was untrained and without a predetermined role and function. This became painfully obvious when he went to his room at the inn and found that Yan Ling had followed him dutifully into the chamber.
She blinked at him, awaiting some instruction undoubtedly. When none came, she turned and headed to the door. He let out a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. Yan Ling closed the door and once again faced him, hands folded. Waiting.
The family’s servants and hired hands always disappeared somewhere once they settled down for the night. He didn’t know where. He didn’t care where.
‘Yan Ling.’
‘My lord?’
He preferred not to think of her as a female as they travelled together, but it was hard not to once they were alone like this. He considered calling for the innkeeper and asking for some other place for her, but that was impossible. Where would they put a lone young woman? He had proposed this scheme and taken her along with him, which meant her well being and safety was now his responsibility. And nothing was more important to Fei Long than his responsibilities.
The low platform of the bed lay against one wall. He gathered the bamboo mat that had been laid over the top of it.
He deposited the rolled mat in Yan Ling’s arms. ‘Take any spot you wish. Sleep well.’
She looked left and right. The situation was clearly as uncomfortable for her as it was for him. Quickly, quietly, she moved to the furthest corner from the bed. He averted his eyes and prepared himself for sleep, striving to ignore whatever was happening in the corner.
First he removed his sword and then started to undo his outer robe. He paused with his hand over his belt and glanced over his shoulder.
Yan Ling had arranged the mat in the corner. She was lying upon it with her back to him. Her slippers were arranged neatly beside the mat and she’d untied her hair. He stared at the black curtain that fell down her back. An unbidden thought came to him and he wished it hadn’t.
‘Miss Yan Ling.’
She lay very still. Too still to be asleep. ‘Yes?’
Her voice sounded muffled and she didn’t face him, an act for which he was grateful. His throat grew dry with embarrassment, but he had to know.
‘Your virtue—’ The miserable words lodged in his throat. He coughed. ‘Is it…intact?’
She gasped and spun into motion, twisting around to push herself up to sitting position. ‘What are you suggesting? I told you I’m a good girl.’
‘Nothing,’ he said in a rush. ‘I’m not suggesting anything.’
He took a step forwards, which launched her backwards. Her back collided against the wall.
‘You stay right there!’ She shook a finger at him.
‘I didn’t bring you with me to claim you for myself, I’ve been honest with my reasons from the first. You need to be pure to be married to Khitan.’ Heavens above, his face was on fire.
‘Well, I know what happens when men and women are together alone.’
‘I don’t think of you in that way,’ he insisted.
Irresistibly Fei Long was plagued by a flicker of an image of the two of them, his arms around her bamboo-thin form, which he immediately tried to banish. Damn it all. It was only because she was insinuating it.
‘Intentions can change quickly.’ Yan Ling’s gaze narrowed on him as she reached for her slippers. ‘Male, female, there’s no logic to it in the heat of things. I’m sleeping outside.’
He moved to block the door before she could rise. Now he was starting to get irritated. ‘My intentions won’t change. Do you want me to swear it?’
She stared at him wide-eyed, one hand clasped to the neck of her tunic. Her skin was pale against the grey fabric and her hair fell over her eyes. ‘How can you be assured you won’t act differently in a…in a storm of passion?’ she forced out.
He almost laughed at her then, and at himself as well. There was an easy solution to this that they had both forgotten.
‘There will be no “storm of passion”. I know who I am,’ he said calmly. ‘And I know who you are.’
She regarded him warily. ‘So?’
‘We’re from very different classes in society.’
‘Yin and yang know no class,’ she retorted.
‘But I do and I won’t forget,’ he promised. ‘Ever. I swear I won’t touch you. It’s in neither of our best interests.’
She pulled away from the wall, but remained crouched and defensive. ‘Because I’m of a lower standing than you, you’d never touch me?’
‘Yes.’
Her shoulders remained tense. She seemed to be struggling with his logic, but finally she came to some resolution. ‘I suppose, my lord, that I should find that a comfort,’ she muttered.
He was left trying to decipher the sudden bite in her tone as she returned the slippers to the edge of the mat. She lowered herself to the ground, keeping her eyes directed away from him.
‘Yes, my virtue is intact,’ she said. ‘And I trust it will remain so.’
She curled up again and turned to the wall. Carefully, he returned to other side of the room and sat down on the bed. There were ten or so more nights of this madness between here and Changan. Ten more nights.
He would need to be sure to have a place secured for her wherever they stayed to avoid this mishap in the future. There was a reason for rules and codes of conduct in society. Everyone knew his place in the scheme of family, home and country. As long as every man served his purpose, no one was led astray. They hadn’t even reached Changan or started playing the game yet, but the shift in their statuses was already causing disorder and strife.
Fei Long watched the small figure in the corner. It wasn’t long before the tension eased away
from Yan Ling and her breathing grew soft and deep. The journey had been a long one that day and she wasn’t accustomed to riding. He remembered the first time he’d spent most of the day in the saddle in the early part of his military training. Every muscle had ached and he’d fallen asleep before hitting the pallet.
He extinguished the lantern and pulled the quilt over himself as he lay back on the wooden platform. Yan Ling had pushed on that day with little complaint and tried her best to learn. Those qualities showed both strength and determination. This common tea girl was more than she appeared.
Think only of success, Sun-Tzu had taught. Fei Long would think only of success and he had ten days to lay out a plan.
For tonight, he decided not to remove his outer robe while he slept.
Chapter Three
Yan Ling gradually stirred to the chill of the air. The sharpness of it made her curl up into a tight ball. Instinctively, she tucked her chin to her chest and folded her feet close to her body to conserve warmth. Maybe she could coax a few more minutes of sleep out of the morning before the clanging in the kitchen woke her up.
Suddenly a soft weight fell over her, cutting off the chill. A hand settled gently over her shoulder and she jolted awake. Her arm shot out, her knuckles colliding against something solid.
‘The death of me—!’
The startled cry chased the last of the sleep from her. This was not her pallet. She was no longer in the teahouse. She sat up and found herself clutching a woven blanket. Fei Long was crouched at the edge of the mat, one hand pressed over his left eye.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘You looked cold,’ he growled.
She stared at the blanket that had mysteriously appeared around her. Fei Long lowered his hand from his face, though he still winced from the blow. In the morning light she could make out every line of displeasure over his well-defined features.
‘Forgive me,’ she squeaked out.
‘If I had known you could hit like that, I wouldn’t have worried about your virtue.’