by Jeannie Lin
Old Man Liang seated himself and took his time opening the record book and sliding the counters on his abacus back to starting position. The steward coughed once and cleared his throat.
‘My lord is most generous.’ He stroked his grey beard, a habit that Fei Long had come to recognise as a stalling gesture. ‘However, there may be a problem making a donation to the temple as well as a few of the other payments.’
* * *
It wasn’t until that afternoon that Fei Long was able to summon Yan Ling before him again. She was dressed in one of Pearl’s hanfu robes. The cloth hung loose as Yan Ling was thinner than his sister. The embroidered sash accented her slender waist and hips.
He stood in the parlour at the front of the house as she tried to negotiate the layers of yellow silk past the entranceway. This was supposed to be a reprieve from the dire financial figures Old Man Liang had thrown at him, but Fei Long almost wished himself back in front of the cursed ledger book as Yan Ling stepped on the edge of her own skirt. The cloth pooled around her feet as she tried to move forwards, wrapping about her ankles until he was certain she would topple. Fortunately she didn’t. She kicked at the train, much like—heaven help him—one would kick a stray dog. He raised a hand over his mouth.
‘Are you laughing at me?’ she demanded, looping the long sleeves once and then twice about her arms so they would no longer whip about while she moved.
‘No.’
He was most certainly grimacing behind the shield of his hand. He lowered it and held out his arm to catch her as she stumbled into the room.
‘This must be the sort of fancy garment only worn for big festivals,’ she surmised.
He ground his teeth together. ‘This is what Pearl wore nearly every day.’
She shot him a look of disbelief. ‘This is not a robe. This is three robes.’
He was not going to lower himself to untangle her from the net of silk she’d woven about herself.
‘Dao.’
The girl came running from her unseen location in the hallway. ‘My lord.’
He tossed a curt nod in Yan Ling’s direction. Dao rushed to her and worked to straighten out the hanfu, smoothing out the sleeves and rearranging the train. Yan Ling’s face grew red as she stood still for the ministrations.
‘Try walking forwards,’ he said.
She took a few tentative steps toward the opposite end of the room. At the wall, she bent to tug the skirt straight with what she thought was a surreptitious movement. It wasn’t.
‘Again,’ he commanded.
She turned and came back toward him. It was a little better this time in that she didn’t pause to fidget with the clothing, but in truth it wasn’t that much better.
‘I’ll practise,’ she said sharply, cutting off the comment that hovered on his tongue.
Dao looked on in sympathy, eyes lowered.
He ran a hand roughly over his chin. Something was wrong, but on his father’s grave, he couldn’t say what. Her arms were wooden by her sides. Her step was heavy. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. Why hadn’t he noticed anything when they’d travelled together? This was worse than he’d thought.
‘This will take more than practice,’ he replied.
She flinched as if he’d inflicted a physical wound, but he didn’t have time to be gentle with words. He didn’t know how
to instruct her in how a lady should act and move. He looked to the servant girl Dao, but it was clear she wouldn’t be
able to help either, and Lady Min had the mental focus of a moth.
Yan Ling had to combat a lifetime of subservience. It wasn’t her fault, he tried to tell himself as his head throbbed once again.
He was frustrated at her, but he was angrier with himself. It didn’t matter whose fault it was; he needed to fix this. Yan Ling pressed her lips tight and he could see her reading the displeasure in his face.
‘Let me keep trying,’ she insisted with a stubborn lift of her chin.
A small part of him warmed with admiration, but feminine grace was a virtue while perseverance was not.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Keep working.’
He dismissed Dao and accompanied Yan Ling as she walked the gardens from the first courtyard through to the second one. Occasionally she looked to him for approval and he’d oblige her with a nod, but he was no longer paying attention to her form. Instead, Fei Long was lost in thought. If Yan Ling was to become a princess, or at least pretend to be one, they would need to transform her. He needed someone who was a master at deception.
Chapter Five
‘Nothing I do is right.’
Yan Ling winced as Dao wound a thread to the hairs at the edge her eyebrow and yanked. She reclined on the day bed in her sitting room with Dao leaning over her. Lady Min had entered the temple earlier that week after a tearful farewell to the household, despite her eagerness to begin her new life. This freed Dao to focus on making a lady of Yan Ling, which she was doing one hair at a time.
‘Lord Chang is only trying to make sure you succeed,’ Dao replied.
‘I don’t stand properly, walk properly. Pearl must have been a model of femininity and— Ow!’
Dao pulled the thread away on the other side. The skin around her brows stung like the bite of a hundred ants.
The mansion was arranged around the two courtyards with the private chambers in the back part of the house and the parlours, kitchen and storeroom arranged at the front. Even with Lady Min and Pearl gone, there were still fifteen people living within the residence. There was the kitchen staff, the hands who tended the stable at the side of the residence, and the various attendants and porters who handled everyday tasks such as cleaning and running errands. Old Man Liang was the
eldest and most revered.
Yan Ling wondered why Fei Long wasn’t married already. She would have thought a family such as this one would be eager to produce sons. It couldn’t be possible that anyone would find him unsuitable. Women likely found him handsome enough…not that one needed to be with wealth and education. And not that she necessarily found him so.
She swallowed past a sudden tightness in her throat, embarrassed to be thinking about someone so far above her class. Maybe she had spent too much time listening to Fei Long’s lectures. Even hidden thoughts had a proper place and standing now.
‘You’re very brave,’ Dao was saying. ‘Pearl was so frightened about going to Khitan. And all those people you’ll need to convince. I couldn’t do it.’
Her chest grew tighter as she thought of it. The Khitan court would be expecting a well-born lady. ‘I’m a carp trying to leap over the dragon’s gate,’ she muttered.
‘I’m surprised Lord Chang would think of such a thing.’ Dao ducked in close to inspect the arch of one brow. ‘He’s always been so proper and upstanding.’
‘This would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it?’
‘Quite!’ The servant lifted the thread again. ‘But I think it sounds wonderful. To become a princess. The poets write lovely verses about the heqin brides, about how beautiful and treasured they are.’
Yan Ling pouted. She was neither beautiful nor graceful. In the afternoons, she sat through lessons on etiquette and diplomacy with Fei Long, but she questioned whether any of it was any good. She still felt like the same awkward teahouse girl while she strolled from the front courtyard to the back, trying to flow and glide like a cloud. Or a crane. Or anything much more elegant than herself.
‘There.’ Dao made one more painful yank and then handed her the mirror. ‘See how it brightens up your face?’
Yan Ling stared at her newly shaped eyebrows sceptically. The ends narrowed in what was supposed to be the fashion of the day, according to Dao. ‘So that was all I needed. Now I’m a lady. I thank you greatly.’
‘Monkey.’ Dao snorted and gave her a shove.
One of the attendants from the front of the house came into the sitting room then to announce a visitor.
‘For me?’
The young man nodded. ‘Li Bai Shen, by the lord’s invitation.’
Fei Long had left that morning without telling her anything about a ‘Li Bai Shen’. Old Man Liang wasn’t present either. She didn’t know if she was ready to carry on the deception for an outsider. She glanced once more in the mirror. Her eyes did look different—somehow more intense and focused—but she didn’t feel it inside. She patted a hand over her hair. It had been pinned up on top and then allowed to fall loose in a cascade behind her.
The young attendant led her to the parlour at the front of the mansion. The gentleman was already seated on the couch. His robe was adorned with a brilliant border of maroon brocade and his topknot was affixed with a straight silver pin. He had narrow, handsome features, with dark eyebrows that accented his face in two bold lines.
He poured himself a cup of wine from a ewer that had been set before him and leaned back with his legs crossed at the
ankles, taking in the sitting room décor with a bemused expression as if he were master of the house.
She stopped at the edge of the sitting area. ‘Lord Li.’
Self-consciously, she executed a bow, keeping her hands folded demurely within the drape of her sleeves.
He smiled when he saw her. Setting his wine down, he lifted himself to his feet and came towards her with a powerful, yet graceful stride. He was deceptively tall in stature, his build lean and wiry. He circled her, head tilted as if to get a better look. His grin widened to reveal the indent of a dimple against his cheek.
‘Not bad, Fei Long.’ His voice held a hum of approval.
‘My lord?’
He reached to tuck two fingers beneath her chin and she swatted at his hand. He chuckled.
‘Who are you anyway?’ she demanded.
He straightened and pulled back his shoulders dramatically. ‘My good friend has asked for help. Li Bai Shen is here to honour that bond of friendship.’
He spoke his name with authority as if anyone would know it. She wrinkled her nose at him.
He tapped his chest twice. ‘Bai Shen is one of the premier actors of the Nine Dragon theatre troupe and that, dear miss, is not a pretty face you’re making. I can see why Fei Long needs my help.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You have two months to become a well-born, well-mannered lady, correct?’
‘Yes.’
Bai Shen made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘I am here to ensure your success.’
‘You?’
‘No other. I played the Princess Pingyang at the Spring Festival before the Emperor himself.’
This was who Fei Long had enlisted to teach her how to be a woman? She knew that men played all of the female roles at the opera, but Bai Shen didn’t seem at all womanly.
‘This is a joke,’ she scoffed.
‘Have you ever known Chang Fei Long to joke?’
She couldn’t argue with that.
Bai Shen leaned in close, a fellow conspirator. ‘To be truthful, it is quite complicated being a woman.’
‘It is!’ she agreed wholeheartedly.
‘There are a thousand looks. A hundred gestures. I’ve studied them all.’ He circled his hand with a flourish. ‘The secret is to create the illusion. You don’t need it all. Emphasise certain characteristics and the audience will believe.’
He touched his fingers to his cheek in an affected feminine gesture, and she laughed aloud, irresistibly charmed. Bai Shen regarded her with warm approval. He certainly enjoyed having a receptive audience.
‘And don’t forget you have one grand advantage,’ he said.
‘What is that?’
He shrugged. ‘You actually are a woman.’
* * *
Minister Cao Wei’s offices were among the most ostentatious in the Administrative City. The government bureaucracy was a city unto itself that had grown around the bones of the former imperial palace. Each ministry was housed in a great assembly hall and surrounded by a constellation of bureaus, offices and courts. Located in the northernmost sector nearest to the palace, the Ministry of Personnel was one of the most influential branches within the imperial government. Fei Long and Old Man Liang were met at the door by a retainer who ushered them into the minister’s meeting room.
The chamber was lavishly furnished. A round table stood at the centre of the room upon a woven rug. An ivory carving depicting the dragon-boat races spanned an entire wall. The minister entered through a beaded curtain. He wore the ceremonial headdress of state and his robe was forest green in colour and embroidered with a phoenix pattern at the front. It billowed around an expanding middle. Minister Cao had grown wider since Fei Long had seen him last.
‘Fei Long, welcome!’
Another man also wearing the robe and cap of state entered behind the minister. Fei Long didn’t recognise him, but Old Liang murmured a warning to him as they bowed to the two officials.
Careful.
‘Inspector Tong and I must both offer our deepest condolences for your father.’
‘Thank you, Minister Cao. Inspector Tong.’ Fei Long bowed again, acknowledging both of them in turn. He took a quick assessment of the second official as he lowered his head.
Tong was younger than Cao. His beard was trimmed to a sharp point and his eyes remained fixed on Fei Long as if targeting a pigeon during a hunt. Fei Long didn’t recognise the insignia on his robe, but it was clear he held some authority even in the presence of a senior minister.
Cao gestured toward the round table in welcome. ‘The last time I drank with your father, we enjoyed a flask of Guilin spirits together. Shall we have some in his honour?’
‘Just tea is fine, my lord.’
Cao looked somewhat glum at his response, but Tong snorted. ‘Not quite his father’s son, then.’
The senior minister called for tea and the three of them sat, while Liang remained standing off to the side.
‘I was just telling Minister Tong what a tragedy it is to lose Chang like that.’
‘Who else would tell outrageous stories during all those serious meetings? One might mistakenly think there was work to be done if it weren’t for Minister Chang,’ Tong replied with an acid tongue.
Cao laughed heartily, either ignoring the slight or missing it completely. ‘Yes! There really was no one else like Old Chang.’
The tea was poured while Cao continued to recount favourable stories of his father. For each one, Tong managed to add the slightest of cuts. Fei Long’s grip tightened on his cup. It was ill-mannered to malign the deceased, but it was also ill-mannered to show his anger before his host.
Cao Wei served in the highest government circles where his father had held a much more humble assignment within the Ministry of Works in the department of agriculture. Still, it was a position to be proud of and highly coveted. Cao seemed to have taken a liking to his father when he was still a student and had helped him secure the head position after the civil exams. The minister had become a benefactor to their family through the years.
Though Fei Long trusted Minister Cao, he was certain it was no accident that Tong happened to also be at this meeting. They were nearly through the first pour when Cao focused in on more serious matters.
‘I was thinking about how your father’s position within the Ministry of Works is still open. You were a candidate for the civil exams at one time, if I recall. I can put in a good word for you, my son.’
Tong’s face twitched at the suggestion, but he covered it by taking a sip of his tea.
‘The minister is too generous,’ Fei Long replied. ‘I’m afraid this unworthy servant is not qualified.’
‘Nonsense.’ Tong set down his cup and the lid rattled from the impact. ‘Your father’s name is enough. What need is there for qualification?’
Cao erupted again in laughter. ‘Inspector Tong, you are always playing like that. Young Fei Long is more than qualified. Why, he passed the military exams with excellent marks. You should see him with a bow and ar
row. I’m sure we can get a dispensation on the civil exams.’
The thought of serving in the administrative court made Fei Long’s chest constrict. He didn’t have the wile or charm for it. If he dared to accept, he’d be exposed as a fraud.
‘Minister Cao, I must confess I have no talent for politics. It pains me to refuse such generosity, but my duty is with the imperial army.’
‘Worthy! Very worthy. See?’ Cao rapped his knuckles against the table. ‘I told you the son was a man of honour, serving the empire so dutifully.’
‘So he is,’ Tong said, his tone flat.
Cao poured the next round of tea himself, a great courtesy coming from the senior official. From that gesture alone, Fei Long knew there was another reason he’d been invited.
‘How is your sister, Pearl?’ Cao asked.
Fei Long kept his expression neutral. ‘She is saddened by our father’s passing, but otherwise she is well.’
Tong stared back at him, his face a stone wall as he scoured Fei Long for any sign of weakness.
Cao nodded gravely. ‘Only two months until the journey to Khitan. A tragedy that Old Chang couldn’t see his daughter wed.’
The senior minister bowed his head and Tong followed his example, but it was only a cursory gesture. Inspector Tong was working deliberately to get Fei Long’s guard up. It was the sort of subtle power struggle that Fei Long had learned early on he had no knack for and one of the reasons he’d opted for the provincial garrison rather than the politics of Changan. His work in the imperial army was honest and straightforward, even if it was without glory.
‘I apologise, Inspector Tong. I have been long away from the capital. I’m ignorant of how you knew my father?’
‘The apology is mine. I should have introduced myself properly.’ All the words that came from him were cold and correct. ‘I serve in the Censorate.’
Tong let the silence take over so there could be no mistaking the seriousness of his purpose there. Fei Long should have guessed from the title that the dour-faced Tong was an imperial censor. These officials were responsible for investigating the inner workings of each of the government ministries.