by Jeannie Lin
‘Good,’ he said once she was done. He straightened abruptly. ‘Keep practising.’
She fought very hard not to watch him leave.
* * *
Old Man Liang was overseeing the porters out front as they loaded the cart. The steward didn’t meet Fei Long’s eye. Instead, he watched over the proceedings as if he were directing a funeral. The crates were lifted and lowered with sombre ritual like caskets into a grave.
‘Lord Chang’s spirit would be sad to see this,’ Liang said. It was the same protest he’d given when Fei Long had told him of the decision.
The loyal steward was afraid of upsetting his master even in death. Liang had been more concerned about keeping the elder Lord Chang ignorant and happy than being direct about the state of the household finances. To give bad news was an offence. The last thing Liang wanted his master to do was lose face, so he hid everything, trying to resolve the issues himself, with disastrous results. The two men were old fools together.
Last came the long wooden box that contained the wall painting of the cranes. The birds had been in that study for all his life. Fei Long had counted them as a boy—there were seventeen. His father had stood over his shoulder, directing his studies, under the watch of the winged creatures.
It wasn’t merely the loss of their family heirlooms that Fei Long mourned. They were forced to sink to the level of traders, bartering with the various antiques and artworks that his father had collected. There was no other way to pay the creditors quickly.
‘Be careful, Old Liang.’
Liang stroked his beard once, then nodded silently. The porters helped the steward climb up into the passenger’s seat of the wagon and the driver headed off. The items were going to an art dealer who lived near the East Market—a man who promised to be discreet.
Fei Long waited until the wagon reached the end of the street before turning in the opposite direction. As delicate as the steward’s task was, his own required even more secrecy. He insisted on going alone, but brought his sword.
The location was to the south of the entertainment district, in a less reputable area populated by hovels and gambling dens. Along the boundary of the poorer neighbourhood, several extravagant residences had risen up, fed by wealth earned off the dice tables and brothels.
A knot formed in Fei Long’s stomach as he travelled to where the streets grew narrow and dank. The buildings were packed together with no space in between. Privacy was for the wealthy. He was looking for a man named Zōu, or the Bull, as they knew him in these parts.
Fei Long stopped before a garishly painted mansion, glaring in green and gold. The architects had copied popular imperial architecture, with dragons curling along the rooftops and an ornate set of doors set with brass rings. Two rough-looking characters stood guard at the front entrance. No doubt Zōu considered his home a palace in the slum, and he, its reigning sovereign.
‘Chang Fei Long is here to see Lord Zōu,’ he said to the guardsmen.
‘What’s your business?’ The taller, rougher of the pair looked him up and down. His gaze paused at the hilt of Fei Long’s weapon.
‘Payment.’
The knot in Fei Long’s gut only tightened as he was let in. Zōu owned several gambling dens and pleasure houses, according to Old Man Liang. For the last three years, Zōu had also owned his father.
Fei Long was brought into the parlour where a middle-aged man reclined indolently on a sedan chair. Zōu was dressed in a robe of gold brocade and turquoise, as ostentatious as his home. It took quite a few bolts of cloth to clothe him as well. His nickname must have come from the squared shape of his shoulders, which seemed to hulk over his neck, much like a bull’s. His face was broad as well. A big man in appearance and manner.
‘The precious son,’ he said with great amusement.
‘Lord Zōu.’ It took some effort for Fei Long to bow to him.
That seemed to amuse Zōu even more. ‘Come sit.’
The Bull was no nobleman, but it was etiquette to treat one’s enemy with respect, at least upon first engaging. A young woman with brightly painted lips brought them wine as Fei Long took a seat.
‘I won’t be long,’ Fei Long said, declining the wine. He pulled the wooden case out of his satchel and placed it on the table between them.
‘What, no finesse? You must have a drink. This is the start of our association, after all.’
He didn’t want to be associated with this slum lord any more than he had to be. Fei Long knew that the city guards and magistrates turned a blind eye on such illicit activities, but men like Zōu were a disease.
‘Let us be plain with each other.’ Fei Long slid the wooden case across the table. ‘Here is your payment for the month and I want to discuss terms for resolving the entirety of my father’s debt.’
‘Terms?’ Zōu barked out a laugh. ‘I rather like the current terms as they are.’
Of all the creditors, his father’s debt to Zōu was the greatest and the most unfathomable. Fei Long found out that Old Man Liang had been making monthly payments for over a year, yet the debt had not decreased.
‘How much does my father owe you in total, my lord?’ He forced the honorific out through gritted teeth. ‘This debt will be settled.’
At that, Zōu’s smile dissipated to be replaced with a cold, shrewd look. ‘Your father is dead,’ he sneered. ‘This is money you now owe me, my lord.’
‘And I intend to pay our debt, but you will no longer bleed us each month. Tell me how much.’
Zōu shook his head patronisingly. ‘Fei Long, my friend. You would do well to learn to be more like your father. He was a spirited fellow. The room always glowed brighter when he arrived. We regret his loss.’
‘The number,’ Fei Long demanded.
Zōu didn’t blink. ‘Two million cash.’
Hot anger speared through him. ‘You lie.’
‘Two million,’ Zōu repeated calmly, ‘since you’ve shown yourself to be so inflexible.’
‘There is no way my father could owe you that much.’
‘What do you wish to see, my young lord? Proof? Your father was always a cheerful, charismatic fellow. We’d drink, trade jokes. “Bull,” he’d say. “Just between friends, I don’t have your money today.” “No problem,” I’d say. Never a problem. I have marker after marker, stamped with your father’s seal. I have marker after marker that he signed when he couldn’t pay for those first markers. The Bull is a businessman, not a cheat.’
Fei Long’s stomach turned. This is what Liang had been afraid to tell him.
‘There must be—’ he shoved the words out ‘—some deal we can arrange.’
‘There is no deal. The Chang family owes and it must pay. You see, your father was a remarkable man. As a gambler, he was always a failure, but he had such powerful friends behind him. There was always more money to be found somewhere. Why, I hear you had several expensive gifts delivered to your beloved sister from the Emperor himself.’ Zōu nodded smugly. ‘I think I like the arrangement we had. Why change such a beautiful partnership?’
Fei Long clenched his fists so tight they shook. His father had let himself be trapped by this demon. He couldn’t let it go on. He wouldn’t.
‘This is something we’ll no doubt need to discuss.’ He regarded the slum lord evenly. To show his anger would be a weakness. ‘For now, I’ll take one of those markers.’
Zōu’s smile dropped. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘My father owed you money and I’ve paid part of his debt. Return the marker.’
‘You don’t understand, young Lord Chang. This monthly payment is merely interest.’
‘I do understand. Money lenders are not allowed to collect excessive penalties. Abusive usury is quite illegal. I’ll have the marker now…or should I consider what other illegal activities you practise?’
They locked gazes. The den lord’s eyes beaded within his rounded face.
‘You did mention how my father had some very powerful friends
,’ Fei Long said lightly.
Zōu’s mouth twisted. ‘Orchid! Bring the box.’
The Bull continued to scowl at him while his painted concubine brought over a lacquered box inlaid with mother of pearl. He opened it and, without looking, fished out a wooden marker and tossed it across the table.
‘I’ll see you again next month, Chang Fei Long.’
Chapter Twelve
Summer was coming to Changan and so was the light, easy gaiety that came with it. The trees along the main avenues yielded a bounty of peaches and plums. The morning sun roused the household into activity early and by the afternoon all of the windows and doors of the house were thrown open to let the breeze flow through.
It was the sort of day that made it hard to concentrate indoors. Fei Long found himself rising to look out the window into the courtyard, or scan the bookshelves. Anything to stop from thinking about numbers. Fei Long had come to hate the clicking of Old Man Liang’s abacus. He listened to the desolate sound of the counting beads every morning while the steward went through the accounts.
He was still staring out the window when the door opened. He turned to find Yan Ling standing beside the desk and he willed himself to relax. Their hours together were a sanctuary of peace. He could shove all the collection notices to the back of the drawer and take refuge in the comforting formality of their lessons.
‘You always do that, my lord.’ Yan Ling smiled at him pleasantly.
‘Do what?’
‘Inspect me as if you’re looking for flaws.’
He was taken aback. He didn’t realise his scrutiny had been noticed. ‘It must be habit from commanding soldiers.’
It was hard not to take her in, now that she had spoken of it. The season had brought a glow to her. She was wearing a light blue dress with half-sleeves today. Her forearms were exposed and he thought about reprimanding her about it, but he stopped himself when he realised there was nothing improper about the style. Only he would be distracted by such an innocent display of pale, smooth skin.
It wasn’t only Yan Ling’s appearance that had changed. She had become more reserved over the last week, less likely to engage him in spontaneous conversation or questions. The change caught him off guard.
‘You’re doing very well,’ he pronounced.
‘A compliment,’ she replied with wonder.
‘In your studies,’ he amended, though not certain why he felt the need to.
She angled her face away so he only caught the trailing end of a smile. ‘I have the best of instructors.’
Her speech was losing the country accent of the provinces. She even moved differently, held her head higher. When she walked into a room, he could no longer see any remnants of the tea girl he’d first met. Occasionally, he would see her doubled over in laughter with Dao or Bai Shen and the sight always sent an inexplicable ache through him. She never laughed that way in his presence.
Yan Ling was exceeding all his expectations—and he hated it.
Yet the more she sensed his displeasure, the harder she tried. He’d stopped criticising her.
‘What is that?’ she asked, looking at the wooden case laid across his desk.
He’d left it unopened after its arrival that morning. He should have stored it away completely.
‘It’s a map.’ He reached down to unfasten the pins that secured the lid. There was no use holding off any longer. ‘This came from the Foreign Ministry.’
He lifted the scroll from its case and Yan Ling came around to help him, taking hold of the wooden dowel at the centre. They pulled the edges of the heavy paper apart until the map spanned the entire surface of the desk.
The curve of her neck hid against the blackness of her hair as it fell over her shoulder. He was stricken with the urge to stroke his fingers over the smooth skin and explore the elusive shape of her; an urge he quickly banished.
‘A gift,’ he said, moving closer as her eyes roamed over the painted mountains and rivers. ‘From the Emperor himself.’
She stared at it in wonder. ‘This is our empire.’
‘And what lies beyond.’
‘Beyond,’ she echoed. Her fingers curled over the edge of his desk.
The borders of the empire to the north were drawn out as a majestic wall, though he knew that the Great Wall of the First Emperor only spanned several stretches of it. Beyond that final boundary lay the neighbouring tribal kingdoms of the north.
He pointed to the city near the western region of the empire and then paused. Yan Ling liked to take a moment to try to absorb new knowledge.
‘This is Changan,’ he continued steadily. ‘Where we are. The character for “peace” is one you should recognise.’ After a moment, he moved upwards to the far north-western corner of the map. ‘This is the land of Khitan.’
She let out a soft breath. ‘It’s so far.’
‘Not so much.’ He measured out the distance with his hand, walking across the map from thumb to little finger several times. ‘I’d estimate a two-month journey, perhaps three. That’s why the caravan is scheduled to leave mid-summer. You’ll be in Khitan before the winter wind sweeps through the plains.’
Yan Ling ran her hand absently along the embellishments along the bottom edge. ‘It’s very beautiful,’ she said, though it wasn’t admiration in her tone.
Indeed, the map could have been displayed as a work of art, but he’d been unable to bring himself to mount it despite the bare section of the wall left by the absence of the cranes. He couldn’t bear the reminder of the vast grassland frontier of Khitan.
The desolation in her voice pierced him, but he had handled it with feigned confidence. Yan Ling had shown nothing but complete dedication and it was his duty to remain unwavering as well.
‘You’ll make the voyage with an appointed court ambassador as well as an escort of attendants and guards. Every need will be attended to.’
‘Servants at my beck and call,’ she replied dutifully. ‘Who would imagine such a thing?’
‘You’ll be treated as a princess for the rest of your life.’ He had no choice but to push on. ‘It is normal to feel homesickness when going so far away. The feeling will pass.’
‘I don’t feel any homesickness for the village where I came from.’
She met his eyes and her gaze was so clear it cut him like glass. He could feel every breath labouring through his lungs, but she turned away first.
‘We always knew this was where I was meant to go,’ she conceded softly. ‘Changan isn’t my home anyway.’
‘Right. Very good thoughts.’ He should thank heaven that Yan Ling was so practical. She’d risen from nothing and this was an unfathomable opportunity for her.
‘Tell me more about Khitan,’ she said.
He rolled up the scroll and returned it to its case. ‘Khitan is ruled by a tribal confederation,’ he began. ‘The people live as nomads along the grassland steppes with several permanent settlements, but their capital isn’t very different from our cities.’
‘Who am I to marry, then?’
It took courage to ask that question as calmly as she did. He would be just as strong in return. He couldn’t falter now.
‘The current khagan petitioned the imperial court for a peace marriage as the previous leader had done. By showing his alliance with our empire, he strengthens his own position among the other tribes.’
She paused, as if taking a moment to absorb everything he’d told her. ‘Do you know,’ she said finally, forcing a smile to her lips that made his soul ache, ‘once I’m a princess, I’ll outrank you.’
‘Yes,’ he said hollowly. ‘I suppose that’s true.’
‘When you first told me about the alliance marriages and these false princesses, I thought you must be trying to trick me.’
She wandered away and he was left stranded, trailing after her with his gaze. Was it only an illusion, or did she stand taller? Her newfound grace put a barrier between them.
‘I thought you were so stiff and fussy
at first,’ she said, amused at his expense.
Strange how he barely remembered their journey other than a few disjointed fragments. His mind had been occupied and his unexpected travelling companion had been only another burden. Yet here he was, hanging on Yan Ling’s every word.
He ventured towards her. ‘And what do you think now?’
It was beyond improper. He had no right asking such a damning question.
‘Well, now I know it to be true.’
Her eyes glittered brightly at him and the incline of her head revealed what might have been the hint of a smile. When had she learned to be coy? Or maybe it wasn’t learning at all, merely an innate knowledge that all women possessed.
Maybe all this learning was pointless. A Khitan chieftain had no need for a well-bred lady. Why had he been so determined to change her? Fei Long retreated to his desk and closed the case with more force than he intended.
Yan Ling regarded him with disappointment that the conversation was over. He was no fool. The boldness and danger of such evocative conversation was tempting, more intoxicating than wine. His heart was pumping fast from merely a few innocent words.
‘Everything you told me will come to pass, won’t it?’ she asked.
He gripped the map case. ‘Yes.’
‘I should thank you, then, for your generosity.’ Her voice faltered and she finally looked away, embarrassed.
‘Don’t say that,’ he ground out.
His stomach clenched. Her show of gratitude highlighted the ugliness of their deception. The household was surviving off an allowance from the imperial court: Yan Ling’s bride price. Fei Long went to her so suddenly that she swung around to face him. In Yan Ling’s eyes he saw trust and hope.
‘You don’t need to thank me for anything,’ he said gently. ‘I should be thanking you.’
‘Because we’re in this together,’ she said uncertainly.
He nodded, breathing deep. ‘Together.’