by Jeannie Lin
This time she sipped slowly. Unlike the liquor, the wine was slightly sweet and the burn of it on her tongue was even enjoyable. Gradually the flush of it crept all the way to her fingertips and the crest of her cheeks.
At first she tried to follow the conversations as they were tossed across the room. There was poetry, interwoven with riddles, interwoven with bawdy insults. It was an intricate puzzle with no beginning, no end. She found herself smiling, nodding.
‘So you have to hear how we distracted the minister,’ Bai Shen was saying.
The room quieted somewhat to listen. Apparently several of the performers had been involved in the caper as well, but Bai Shen was designated as the storyteller.
‘We had three plans.’ He held up a finger dramatically. ‘One: delay him in the ministry building with a civil dispute. Two: if the first one failed, we’d pose as porters and carry his sedan off on a wild chase through the city. Three: we’d simply have to accost the senior minister and steal all his clothes.’
‘I told you nothing that would get you thrown in jail or I would disown you,’ Fei Long protested.
‘Disown me?’
‘No, honourable judge. I’ve never seen this man before,’ Fei Long intoned.
‘That’s because it was dark and I was dressed as a woman.’
The crowd hooted at Bai Shen’s jest.
‘He said I was as pretty as a spring flower,’ Bai Shen finished, to the roar of the audience.
Fei Long’s deep laughter resonated beside her. It filled the room wonderfully and warmed her even more thoroughly than the wine.
‘You should laugh more often,’ she told him before she could stop herself.
He regarded her closely. The laughter remained in his eyes as he gently pried the cup from her hands and set it aside. Bai Shen went on to describe the elaborate show they had performed before Minister Cao, but she was more curious about Fei Long.
‘How long were you studying for the imperial exams?’
He had to lean in to hear her and she repeated the question.
‘Only a year,’ he replied.
‘Is that long?’
The spirit of the room was boisterous and full of joy and celebration. Fei Long had also relaxed. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, as if this night wasn’t just a chore and a duty. The clamour of the others around the table pushed them closer together. Her knee brushed up against his, but he disregarded it. Her pulse skipped faster, swept up in the recklessness and the gaiety.
‘It’s common to study for the exams for two or more years,’ he said. ‘But I never took the civil exams.’
‘Why not?’
‘I decided to go into military service instead.’
‘Are there exams for that as well?’ she asked.
‘There are indeed,’ he said. ‘There are military classics to study and then the physical tests. Horse riding, archery, sword skill.’
Casually, he reached behind her to pull one of the pillows closer for her. She leaned back against it, before realising how odd the gesture must have looked to anyone who was watching. She was supposed to be his servant.
‘Why did you decide to change? Your father was already a highly respected official.’ She became a bit flustered when she realised how much it seemed like she was questioning his decision. ‘I mean, your military appointment took you so far away from home.’
Fei Long frowned and for a moment she feared she had been too impertinent, but he was only considering her question.
‘Perhaps I didn’t mind seeing what was outside of Changan. Otherwise I might have drowned in the pleasure quarters with these fools here.’ He nodded indulgently at the crew surrounding them.
‘I don’t believe that,’ she said.
‘No?’ He leaned closer to her as they spoke, the crowd jostling them together. ‘I was young, brash, with no knowledge of limits—’
She giggled at that. ‘As if you’re so old now.’
He shot her an admonishing look, but there was a warmth behind it that made her toes curl happily.
‘I found I wasn’t any good at being a scholar,’ he confessed.
‘Fei Long!’ The man who played the King called out from the other end of the table. ‘Are you still a master with the bow and arrow? I won a lot of money at that match.’
Their conversation had been overheard. For a moment, she was embarrassed that she had been quite so personal with her questions, but Fei Long never spoke so openly when they were alone.
‘Our Lord Chang is like the legendary Houyi,’ Bai Shen boasted.
Fei Long waved his hand in modest denial. She lit up when he turned back to resume their conversation rather than banter with the others.
‘They’re talking about the Great Shoot,’ he explained. ‘I competed in one before passing the military exam.’
The hard lines of his face had softened. Usually she grew anxious whenever he focused his attention on her, but tonight he wasn’t looking to instruct. Fei Long was more relaxed and they could speak as if they were…she didn’t know what they were. Friends?
‘Is it dangerous being in the imperial army?’ The question brought on a bout of shyness. She tried to mask her concern behind simple curiosity.
He paused to consider it. ‘I’ve sworn to protect our land, but we have been free from rebellion for many years now. And this Emperor prefers diplomacy to warfare with the neighbouring kingdoms.’
‘Like with the peace marriages?’
His gaze fixed on her, the sudden depth of it making her stomach flutter. The knot in his throat lifted and lowered as he swallowed.
‘Your face is red,’ he said lightly, not answering her question.
‘What?’
‘The wine.’ He smiled, amused, but there was a hint of strain beneath it.
‘Oh! Does it look awful?’
She pressed her hands over her cheeks. Her skin flushed hot, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the spirits or how Fei Long had looked at her. It was a drawn-out, thoughtful look. The way a man regarded a woman.
‘I’ve never had much to drink before,’ she confessed.
‘I can see that.’
The moment between them broke and she turned away to seek some diversion. She could feel Fei Long’s gaze, heavy and thoughtful, on her. She didn’t dare ask what it was that he saw.
The musician had pulled out his pipa again. He’d started up a song and the troupe joined in, singing loudly as if each one were trying to outdo the other. She fell silent, letting the music and the laughter hide her while she cradled the gem of her conversation with Fei Long close to her breast. She’d often wondered what his life was like before he had returned to Changan. She wondered if he would go away again once she left.
Soon the banter droned hazily around her and she fought to keep her eyes open. She waved away an offer of more wine. Vaguely, she registered the start of some drinking game, but her head was starting to feel heavy.
The next thing she knew, she was leaning against something. She’d fallen asleep while the party continued without her. Blinking drowsily, she opened her eyes to see Bai Shen watching her with a wide grin.
‘Wake up, young sir. You don’t want Fei Long to have to cut off his sleeve for you.’
Fei Long. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and she could feel the steady rise of his chest beneath her fingertips where she rested them against him almost possessively. She’d fallen asleep on him, of all things!
Her cap fell off as she righted herself in horror. She fumbled with it hopelessly. ‘I—I’m sorry.’
Fei Long didn’t appear angry as he looked down at her. ‘It’s time to go.’
She stumbled as they untangled themselves from the troupe, but Fei Long steadied her and soon they were free, standing on the edge of the party.
Bai Shen bowed, palm to fist, in a formal farewell. His regret at their departure didn’t last long as he was caught up in another conversation. The festivities would no doubt continue on
ce they left.
‘I should pay…’ She realised it only once they were beyond the threshold of the entrance. Her mind was still clouded with sleep. She was posing as his servant and supposed to open doors and handle money.
‘I’ve taken care of it.’ Fei Long guided her onto the street with a hand against her back.
The city became a maze of alleyways and unfamiliar streets in the haze. Dutifully, she followed along beside Fei Long, her step not quite steady. The lanterns of the drinking houses were still burning along the main avenue. Their halos became fuzzy and distorted before her.
What time was it? She yawned again.
Dimly, she recalled passing through the ward gate. She waited while Fei Long showed his pass. One moment, she was awake. In the next, she’d drifted into sleep on her feet.
‘Come,’ he said.
She plodded along beside him again. The way back seemed so much further than the way there, if that was possible. The oversized boots were more a hindrance now as they wobbled about her ankles. At some point, she stopped to adjust them and found herself once again dozing, her back propped against the brick wall of an alleyway.
‘It’s not far now.’
She opened her eyes and Fei Long was right before her. He was holding the lantern now, as she could no longer be trusted with it. His face was partly in shadow and she could see the glow of moonlight beyond him.
‘I didn’t drink that much,’ she said.
‘I know. Come on, you.’ He looked so pleasant and indulgent and wonderful.
She should tell him now. Tell him something about the feelings growing inside her.
Once they returned to the mansion, there would so many barriers between them. Heavy veils of propriety and class, like the silken layers of those cursedly beautiful robes. Those walls were down tonight and he was standing so close, looking at her in that way again. She didn’t know what that way was, only that it was different. She wanted to confess right here in this darkened alley. It was irrational, but it made more sense now than it ever would.
‘Fei Long.’ She held her breath.
‘Yes?’
Her voice sounded soft, plaintive. Vulnerable. She was being stupid.
‘I enjoyed tonight very much.’
‘Good.’
She couldn’t tell if he was irritated with her. He just sounded like he always did: solid, steady, unreadable.
‘I mean tonight was so very…good. Thank you.’
‘It was nothing.’
Her face burned at the warmth in his voice.
In the end, she couldn’t do it. Soon, they were walking again. Such a confession—unsightly with feeling, like some lovesick maiden’s lament. She’d do nothing but shame herself and embarrass Fei Long. Even worse, she might bring his derision upon her.
At some point, her left boot slipped and she stumbled. Fei Long caught her, but before she could mumble an apology, he cast the lantern aside and lifted her in his arms. Her breath caught in her throat as he cradled her against his chest. His muscles tensed against her weight.
‘But we’ll be seen,’ she protested.
‘It’s not far now.’
He adjusted his hold and started walking, making much better time without her stumbling beside him. Nervously, she curled her arms about his neck. There was no good place to hold on otherwise.
She was close enough to feel the beat of his heart against her, the soft labour of his breath. She stared at the strong cut of his jaw in profile and then she was drifting again, lulled by the confident rhythm of his stride and the enfolding heat of his body.
* * *
The next time she opened her eyes, she was gazing at the familiar rooftops of their courtyard. The view faded and then they were in her room and Fei Long was easing her into bed. Her heart thudded while she lay as still as she possibly could.
The darkness of the chamber made it impossible to see, but she could sense Fei Long above her. She could hear the sound of his breathing and feel his weight as he moved. He bent to reach for her boot and tugged it free. His touch just above her ankle was wickedly out of place and too intimate. A nobleman performing this servant’s gesture.
She should tell him she was awake, that he could go, but she couldn’t find her voice. Her breath came only in shallow gasps. Fei Long placed his hand firmly on her calf. Sensation radiated from his simple touch. Beloved heat coursed through her veins, pooling as a low tremor in her belly.
The second boot was off. Fei Long pulled the blanket over her and when he moved to tuck it about her shoulders, she found herself eye to eye with him. She hadn’t even enough sense to close them and pretend to sleep. Her skin flushed hot, though the wine had long burned away.
He didn’t say anything. The back of his fingers brushed gently over her cheek. A touch so brief, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t inadvertent. She did close her eyes then, inhaling once, then exhaling.
Yan Ling didn’t know if she slept. When she opened her eyes again, it was still night time, but Fei Long was gone.
Chapter Eleven
It was a familiar scene now. Fei Long was at his desk in the study. She stood before him in a sun-yellow robe as if presenting herself before court.
She bowed slightly. ‘My Lord.’
He acknowledged her with a nod, not standing to greet her.
Excruciatingly familiar. She had been hoping for something different this day after their evening at the theatre. Fei Long didn’t even inspect her appearance to see if it was acceptable, as he usually did. Instead, he was intent on writing. His brush moved in fierce strokes over the paper. He even dispensed with the few lines of polite conversation they usually exchanged. His requirement, not hers. It was one of the methods he used to train her on etiquette.
Perhaps he expected her to initiate the conversation today. ‘What happened to the painting of the cranes?’ she asked.
A large brush painting of a flock of cranes resting beside a pond had adorned the wall beside Fei Long’s desk, yet the space was conspicuously empty today. Fei Long looked up at the blank spot as if unaware until that moment.
‘I’m having it replaced,’ he replied curtly before returning to whatever he was composing. ‘I’m very busy today,’ he reprimanded before she could speak again.
So no change. At least, not for the better. She’d been wondering all morning if her girlish imagination was making too much out of nothing. For hours, she’d waited anxiously, only to come here and face the harsh truth.
Silently, she went to the writing table and seated herself. A scroll had been placed beside a blank length of paper. Fei Long had arranged it so they wouldn’t need to speak at all. Clearly she was to practise copying the characters. She prepared the ink against the inkstone, taking comfort in the ritual when there was little comfort to be had.
It was hard not to be disappointed.
She took the brush from its case, settled into the proper posture and dipped the tip of the brush into the ink, drawing lazy circles to keep her spirits up. A quick glance at Fei Long showed him unchanged, head bent, writing with furious intention. His eyebrows slashed downward in a frown.
With a soft exhale, she positioned her brush and started to write as well, though at a much slower, deliberate pace than Fei Long. With each character, she tried to discern if it was one she knew. She had memorised nearly a hundred of them. It always pleased her when she recognised parts of a simpler character combined to make more complicated ones.
Today the composition seemed to be about rice and farms. Just a report of some sort that Fei Long had pulled from the elder Lord Chang’s papers. She preferred it when it was a passage from a story or a poem.
Yan Ling frowned as she smudged the top of the next line. Her stroke had been too heavy and it ruined the beauty of the whole piece. And so early in the task, too. She hated that. Even reports about rice and millet could still look pretty, in their own way. There was nothing to do but continue.
At the end of the page, she set the bru
sh down in its holder. Her hand was stiff from gripping the brush too hard again. She shook it to try to loosen her fingers, using her left hand to massage the knuckles. At the same moment, she heard Fei Long get up from his chair.
Her eyes flickered to him. She couldn’t help it.
He was packing some items into a leather satchel: a wooden case, some papers. It wasn’t even an hour into their afternoon, yet he was preparing to leave.
‘Should…should I go?’ she asked uncertainly.
He was standing over his desk and staring at the tidy surface as if in a trance. When he turned, it took a moment for him to focus on her. She was far, far from his thoughts.
‘No. Stay.’
He came to her and her pulse quickened, but he was only there to look over her work.
‘Better,’ he pronounced.
She nodded. All she could see was the smear of ink on the ruined second column. She wondered if he really even cared and why it mattered that her characters had to be perfect anyway. Of course, Fei Long was meticulous. He always cared that things were in order. That everything and everyone was in their proper place.
‘Here.’ His voice softened by the tiniest of notes. ‘I’ll show you how to write your name.’
She shifted her chair over to accommodate him and he moved in beside her. With measured grace, he took hold of the brush, dipped it into the ink and started to write on the edge of the practice paper.
Two characters emerged in Fei Long’s bold script, one on top of the other. There was no hesitation in his strokes. It was as if her entire name flowed out as one spoken verse, each lift of the brush a mere pause between words.
‘Yan Ling,’ he said when it was done.
Her name looked so much more elegant and complex than the girl it represented. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
He set the brush down, but remained beside her. Was he any closer than usual? Was his voice just a touch warmer when he addressed her? She couldn’t know. She would never be able to know for certain.
‘Now you,’ he said.
She tried to mimic his technique in her own deliberate manner. Fei Long waited patiently for her to finish with his head bent close to watch her work. This was his subtle, silent apology. No words. Just a small bit of gentleness to counter his earlier harshness.