My Fair Concubine

by Jeannie Lin

  Was he…was he teasing her? Nothing else about his manner said so. His dark hair fell loose about his shoulders, giving him an untamed look that shocked her to her toes. The haze of the morning and his disarray made the moment uncomfortably intimate, though he was blinking at her with more ire than usual. She clutched the blanket tighter around herself.

  Fei Long pulled himself to his feet and removed himself to the other side of the chamber. A knock on the door provided a momentary distraction. She went to open the door and the attendant presented her with a wash basin. Dutifully, she carried it to the table beside the bed and set it down.

  The nobleman had his back to her. He ran his hands over his hair and then tied it into a topknot with a strip of cloth. In a coordinated dance, she returned to her corner to fold the blanket and roll up the mat while he moved to use the wash basin. She was accustomed to such rituals growing up in the cramped quarters of the teahouse kitchen. This was how people living in the same small space without doors or screens allowed each other some privacy.

  In a breach of such politeness, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Fei Long rolled his sleeves back in two crisp tugs at each arm. Dipping his hands into the basin, he splashed water over his face. It slid down over his chiselled jaw and throat and she didn’t realise she was staring until he caught her. A sharp line formed over his eyes.

  ‘My lord,’ she intoned by way of apology. Her face burned as she rushed over to hand him a wash cloth.

  He took the cloth from her without a word while blood rushed to her face. In many ways, looking at him so boldly was a worse transgression than dousing him with tea in anger. She held her breath and waited to be reprimanded.

  ‘The water is still warm,’ came his brusque reply. He pressed the cloth to his face and took his sword from the bedside before leaving the room.

  She had to remember that Chang Fei Long was well-born and well-mannered. Everything had to be done with care. More so when they reached the capital and she began to train to be an alliance bride.

  Blessedly alone, Yan Ling used the water to quickly wash. One of the few belongings she’d taken from the teahouse was a wooden comb. She untangled her hair and concentrated on braiding it back out of her face. She had to at least look presentable now that she was attending a nobleman. Fei Long returned just as she tied the end.

  ‘We have some things to do before leaving the city,’ he said.

  Unlike the day before, he had plenty to say while they took their morning tea and meal. He needed supplies, she needed clothes. She hadn’t considered how ragged she must look beside him. Her grey tunic was over a year old and had been patched at the elbows.

  By the time they rode out, she was outfitted in a leaf-green robe made of light cotton. She ran her hands wondrously over the sleeves. The weave of it was finer than anything she’d ever worn. What would the townsfolk think of him buying her such fancy clothing as if she were a—she blushed to even think of it—a pampered concubine?

  Fei Long was intent on using every moment of the day now for education. He recited a classic titled The Three Obediences and Four Virtues to her while they rode, asking her at intervals to repeat back what she’d just learned.

  ‘You have a good memory,’ he said at one point.

  It might have been the very first compliment he’d ever paid her. Perhaps it would make up for her rough, provincial manners.

  * * *

  Ten days passed quicker than Fei Long had anticipated. Changan, the imperial capital, stood a day away. They only had a few months before Pearl was supposed to take her place as princess. Fortunately, Yan Ling was a quick learner. He had drilled her on etiquette and her dialect had shifted slightly to mimic the patterns of speech of the capital.

  ‘We’ll be in the city by late in the afternoon,’ he told her.

  Their morning tea had become the staging point for the day’s goals. Yan Ling listened intently as she did every day.

  ‘The mourning period over my father’s death provides us some privacy,’ he continued.

  ‘When did you lose your father?’

  ‘Over a month now.’

  ‘Such a loss.’ She quieted and bowed her head reverently before speaking again. ‘Your family must be saddened by the loss.’

  ‘That’s a private matter.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She bit her bottom lip.

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘Do what?’ In her nervousness, she bit down even harder.

  For now, he decided to let it go. Yan Ling needed to learn that she was no longer in the common room of a teahouse with its hum of chatter and gossip.

  ‘His death was unexpected,’ he said.

  Fortunately, she took his cold tone to mean there would be no more questions. Of course there was sadness. His father, the man who had given him life and raised him, was gone. But Fei Long didn’t have time to grieve. As soon as he’d returned, everyone had surrounded him, asking him, ‘What now?’ Pearl was nowhere to be found. He’d let the household mourn in his stead. There were too many new responsibilities as eldest son and the new head of the household.

  ‘You’ll be carried in a palanquin into the city.’

  ‘What’s a palanquin?’

  ‘A litter. You’ll sit inside while we enter. It wouldn’t do for you to be seen. Too many questions.’

  Her lips moved in a silent conversation with herself as she recited his instructions. He found the habit endearing and took a sip while he watched her.

  ‘Once you’re installed in our family residence, there will be a whole new set of lessons,’ he continued. ‘You’ll need to learn how to read and write. We’ll also need to practise court etiquette—entirely different than private etiquette.’

  Her lips pouted and she blew out an exasperated breath. This part he didn’t find quite as endearing.

  ‘You’ll need to practise controlling your expressions,’ he reminded her. ‘And not make such faces all the time.’

  ‘I wasn’t making a face, my lord.’

  ‘You were.’

  ‘What does it matter when it’s just the two of us?’ she demanded.

  They hadn’t had many arguments during their journey, but this was a recurring one.

  ‘Practise these habits all the time and they’ll come naturally,’ he said, forcing patience. ‘Remember, you were not accustomed to being heard or seen as a servant. Others will be watching you now. At times you’ll be the centre of attention, such as when you’re presented to the Khagan.’

  ‘Surely I have better manners than a foreign barbarian,’ she scoffed.

  His lips twitched. ‘That is a matter for debate.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, but the carriers had arrived with the palanquin.

  ‘Come, it’s time.’

  He led her out to the street, noting that her back was held straighter, her head an inch higher. The carriers afforded her a slight bow as she approached. His chest swelled with pride. This was going to work.

  Of course, it was hard to dismiss his dishonesty. He was deliberately deceiving the imperial court. Two courts, if he counted the kingdom of Khitan. But all parties were getting what they wanted. Khitan received an alliance and a princess and the Tang Empire didn’t have to worry about barbarian attacks from the north at least for a few years. Yan Ling would be taken care of. His family name and honour would be preserved for ancestors and heirs alike. So many good deeds had to balance out one black one.

  He stepped forwards to pull aside the curtain on the sedan himself. Yan Ling paused as she was about to duck inside.

  ‘Wait—should I call you “Elder Brother”? Will you call me Pearl?’

  ‘There’s no need for that. You’ll be safely inside the family residence.’

  ‘What about the other servants? Will they know?’

  Her voice was pitched higher now. The prospect of going to Changan was making them both anxious. Fei Long pressed a hand to the small of her back and gave her a slight push into the compartment.


  ‘We’ll work everything out later.’ He drew the curtain over the opening to cut off her protest.

  As he made his way towards his horse, the side curtain flew open. Yan Ling peered out, framed by the window. Her eyes appeared wide and curious in her delicate face.

  ‘What if someone asks me who I am? What will I tell them?’

  He strode back to the litter with purpose. ‘You won’t have to say a thing. Why would anyone even talk to you? Such nonsense.’

  With that, he dragged the curtain closed and went to lift himself onto the saddle.

  Think only of success.

  * * *

  The morning went by without event. A nagging silence surrounded him without Yan Ling behind him on the saddle. Every flutter of the curtain drew his eye. More than once, he wanted to ride up alongside the transport to speak to her. Not that he had anything to say. He had the urge to see her, if only to make sure that she was secure. So much depended on Yan Ling.

  The earthen walls of Changan appeared over the horizon when they were deep into the afternoon. Soon the expanse of the city filled the view. Imperial banners flew from the battlements and the arches of the East Gate opened before them.

  He tapped against the litter. ‘We’re here.’

  Two fingers peeked through the curtain to pull it open just a slit. ‘Heaven and earth,’ Yan Ling breathed. ‘So magnificent.’

  Whenever he returned from the outer provinces, the vastness of Changan always struck him with renewed awe. The exterior wall stretched on for several li. Within the main gates, the city was divided into further compartments, each ward a small community with shops and neighbourhoods. Throughout the city, there were numerous parks and lakes and canals. Changan could swallow entire cities within its depths.

  A squad of city guards was stationed at the East Gate. They allowed them in after a cursory inspection of his seal. Inside, the city opened up to the familiar grid pattern of criss-crossing avenues. The family mansion was within the residential area just beyond the East Market.

  A muted call came from inside the sedan. ‘My lord…Lord Chang. Elder Brother.’

  He turned his head to see a slight part in the curtain, enough to reveal the curve of Yan Ling’s cheek and one brightly inquisitive eye.

  ‘Are those pears in the trees?’ she whispered in delight.

  The avenue was lined on either side with fruit trees, planted years ago under imperial order. With a hand on the reins, he directed his horse toward the round yellow fruit. The branch shook as he twisted one free before returning to the palanquin to pass it through the window. Then he gestured towards the curtain, making an abrupt, horizontal motion. She flashed him a quick smile, with only the corner of her mouth visible, before disappearing back inside.

  The palanquin joined the heavy traffic along one of the main avenues. Even though they were within the city, it would be at least another hour before they reached the mansion. At that time he’d have to sneak Yan Ling into the household and enlist the help of the servants. Discretion and loyalty were key to the plan. A single whisper of gossip could travel a hundred li and have them all in chains.

  * * *

  If Yan Ling had been asked to describe in one word how the imperial capital differed from her home town, she would have said it was the colours. She’d grown up in a muted world of greys and browns. Their clothing was of the plainest cotton, without the indulgence of special dyes. The buildings were erected from stone and wood. Even the river was murky as it wound through the forest green.

  Now that she was in the capital, wealth didn’t look like the gleam of gold and silver. Wealth was in the red banners cascading from the balconies of the wine-houses and restaurants of Changan. The rainbow bolts of silk in the marketplace. Even the fruit piled in the stalls sparkled like jewels: rosy peaches and startling pink dragonfruit with green-tipped scales.

  The buildings were all ornamented and painted. The structures climbed ostentatiously upwards, reaching towards heaven. The citizens themselves walked side by side in luxurious brocades. Their sleeves hung to the ground, enough material for an entire new garment, yet used for mere adornment.

  The pear in her hands had been kissed warm by the sun. Fei Long’s fingers had brushed inadvertently against hers when he had handed it to her. For all his rigid manners, he was good at heart and kind in the most unexpected ways. She bit into the pear, enjoying the crisp sweetness as she wondered what other surprises the city would bring.

  She wouldn’t live here for long, Yan Ling reminded herself. After the spring and before summer was done, a caravan would take her north to the frontier of Khitan, but this one look alone at the imperial capital was worth it.

  * * *

  A long time passed, made longer by the confinement. Restlessness took over and then boredom. She wanted to burst out of the sedan and take in the city, but Fei Long had warned her about staying hidden. Finally the transport halted and she was lowered to the ground.

  They were here. She fixated on the curtain in front of her. Her palms began sweating and she swallowed past the dryness in her throat. What would await her on the other side? Fei Long had spoken very little about his household. There was Pearl who had run away and the elder Lord Chang who was no longer with them.

  The curtain opened and Fei Long was there. He met her eyes and a silent flicker disrupted his expression before it settled like the surface of a pond. He extended his hand and she took it. His was firm and steady while hers trembled. She stepped outside and peered around the corner like a mouse avoiding a cat’s paw.

  ‘That’s not Pearl!’

  They had stopped in an alleyway, away from the main street. A young woman dressed in a light blue robe stood before a side gate. Her clothing marked her as a servant and her tone marked her as a long-time one.

  ‘I’ll explain later.’ Fei Long placed a hand to Yan Ling’s back to propel her forwards. The gesture was not at all reassuring. ‘Dao, take Miss Yan Ling to Pearl’s room.’

  Dao appeared close to her in age. The girl threw her an assessing look before bowing dutifully and opening the gate. Yan Ling looked to Fei Long for one last sign of reassurance, but he was tending to the business of paying the porters.

  The gateway led into a spacious courtyard surrounded by rooms on all sides. A well-tended garden filled the space, complete with manicured trees, rock sculptures and a wooden pavilion at the centre. Through the portal at the far end, she could see a front courtyard as well. Fei Long’s home truly was a mansion.

  The pathway winding through the courtyard was covered with smooth river stones. Yan Ling halted in the middle of it and turned in a full circle to take in the sight of the buildings surrounding the garden. Covered walkways lined each side. A hum of voices and activity came from within the chambers.

  ‘Please come with me, miss. The private chambers are in the back of the house.’

  Dao was watching her carefully. The servant girl had a soft, peach-shaped face and elegant almond eyes that were narrowed with scrutiny, though her expression remained tranquil. Her hair was parted in the middle and tied in two long tails that framed either side of her face.

  Yan Ling gave the garden one last glance before following Dao into an interior corridor. The bedchamber itself was cool and quiet. A stream of light filtered in through a window that faced the courtyard. A painted screen divided the room in two with a sitting area near the door and a more private sleeping area arranged in back.

  Dao bowed as she prepared to take her leave. Yan Ling thanked her and bowed in return. That caused some confusion. The servant paused, blinked at her, then bowed one more time before retreating and closing the door.

  Once she was alone, Yan Ling took a turn about the chamber, unable to resist running her fingers over the polished finish of the furniture in the sitting area. The chair cushions were embroidered with a peony pattern and the wood was nearly black with a reddish tint. It would be a shame to sit on such pretty chairs. Her legs were still stiff from sit
ting in the sedan for most of the day anyway.

  She imagined the precious Pearl would have sat before the low table to take her morning tea and do whatever else it was that high-born women did to fill their days. Fei Long hadn’t said much about that. Perhaps he didn’t know either. He seemed to rely on the Four Virtues for his knowledge of the practices of women, which led her to believe there would be courtesy and harmonising—with what, she wasn’t quite sure—and perhaps some needlework.

  The bed was another adventure. The padded bedding was placed within an alcove that receded into the wall. Yan Ling took off her slippers and crawled inside on her hands and knees, feeling like she was exploring a cave.

  At the teahouse, her bed had been a thin mat within the storeroom, warmed with residual heat from the stove in the kitchen. Here she could roll over several times and still be in bed. She lay down and tried exactly that. She rolled over once towards the wall and then again, giggling to herself. All this room for one little teahouse girl.

  She stood and inserted her feet back into her slippers. Back in the sitting area, she chose a chair and seated herself, making extra effort to keep her spine straight and her shoulders back. Chang Fei Long had been both kind and generous to give her this chance. She would work her hardest to repay him.

  The chamber door opened again. At first she thought that the servant girl Dao had returned, but it was evident from the flowing robes and the glitter of jewels around her neck that this was a lady of the house.

  ‘Oh! You’re not Pearl,’ the woman said as she glided into the room in a cloud of amber silk. Her hair was coiled elegantly and pinned high over her crown. A pearl dangled from a hair ornament fixed into one side of the arrangement. It was accompanied by smaller baubles fashioned in the shape of flowers.

  Yan Ling stood, struggling for a suitable greeting. ‘Pearl isn’t here, my lady.’

  This woman stepped forwards with a familiarity that had Yan Ling retreating behind the chair.

  ‘Well, good girl! She must have succeeded then. But who are you?’

  ‘I…I came here with Fei Long—I mean, Lord Chang.’