by Jeannie Lin
He wanted to confess everything to her right then, but it would have been for no one’s benefit but his own. He’d considered spilling his worries to Yan Ling more than once while she studied quietly across from him, but it wasn’t her burden to bear.
They never spoke of such personal matters in their family, even amongst themselves. It was taboo. That was why he had been shocked when his father’s death had revealed the disastrous state of the household finances. Debt on top of debt, and it wasn’t merely the amounts that were troubling.
Yan Ling went to the writing table to prepare for the day’s lesson while he watched her for as long as he dared. Then he returned to his desk and stared at the deeds to several holdings until his blood cooled. He would have to sell the plots of farmland. It was a sensible transaction, and wouldn’t raise any scandalous rumours. Fei Long would seek out respectable buyers. Nothing that would make the family lose face.
Only when Yan Ling bowed her head to concentrate on her writing did he allow the pain to escape. Just a moment of weakness before his mask was back in place. This was what was best for Yan Ling. She was going to a position of honour and privilege. It was what was best for all of them.
* * *
The lessons continued over the next week and even Yan Ling had to admit things were becoming easier. All the little details that had seemed impossible to remember at first began to fall into place naturally. She never felt quite the proper lady, but it wasn’t as if she were being presented before the divine Emperor. All she had to do was convince the Khitan court.
That morning, she strolled through the courtyard beside Bai Shen, practising her posture and the hundred little things he always schooled her on. She couldn’t get complacent, Fei Long reminded her. It seemed he watched her more intently now. She would catch him scrutinising her, the notices and letters on his desk forgotten. It was her signal to sit up straighter and focus harder.
‘Why are you always doing that with your hands?’ Bai Shen stopped mid-step to scrutinise her posture.
Yan Ling held her hands at her midsection, fingers clasped one hand over the other, elbows extended. ‘This is how the court ladies are always standing in paintings,’ she argued.
Since the night of Bai Shen’s performance, Fei Long had relaxed the restriction on her leaving the house. She’d made short excursions with Dao into the city parks and marketplace. One of her favourite activities was looking at paintings.
‘But it looks so docile.’ Bai Shen’s frown deepened until she unclasped her hands.
‘I think it looks elegant,’ she said, pouting.
He responded with a snort.
Bai Shen had covered different expressions and how to communicate an array of subtle emotions through just the angle and intensity of her eyes. She shot him a poisoned look. She was quite good at this one. She’d practised in her mirror.
‘You need to observe how the courtesans in the pleasure pavilions entertain,’ he said.
‘As if Fei Long would allow such a thing.’
She had asked Fei Long if they could return to the Pear Blossom Gardens for another show, but his answer had been an outright refusal. She’d sulked. His denial could only be a reflection of her poor behaviour that night.
Her chin lifted. ‘And I wouldn’t seek instruction from women of ill repute.’
‘How innocent you are.’ Bai Shen’s taunting was usually good-natured, but this morning he was intent on challenging her every word. ‘Gentlemen don’t go to such places for sex.’
She blushed at his candid use of the word. ‘Then what do they go for?’
‘To be enchanted. Every movement is a sensual act. An accomplished courtesan can drive a man mad with lust with the sight of a bared wrist.’
She sniffed. ‘As if a man would notice such details.’
‘So now you’re an expert on men.’
Everyone seemed irritable lately. Fei Long had become more pensive and gloomy and today Bai Shen had traded his usual cheer for a short temper. She wondered if he was suffering from another hangover.
‘Men may not notice, but they still understand,’ Bai Shen lectured. ‘Not in their heads, but deeper. It’s a hidden language.’
‘Show me, then.’ Apparently she still didn’t know how to enchant and entice. Fei Long certainly ignored her. Maybe she was getting irritable too.
‘This is called the lotus hand.’ He held out his hand, thumb and second finger touching lightly. The other fingers remained slightly curved with the little finger extended.
‘Lotus,’ she repeated, curving her fingers into the same position. Oddly, her hands did seem more elegant.
‘Chi wu.’ He demonstrated between each gesture. ‘Butterfly.’
She shook out her hands, feeling foolish for prancing about. She was starting to suspect that some of the exercises Bai Shen presented were for his own amusement.
‘Does Fei Long go to these courtesans?’ she asked.
‘Ah…’ Bai Shen raised a knowing eyebrow.
‘Put your eyebrow down. I was just talking of this and that.’
Fei Long had been leaving during the evenings, often times alone, and she was left to wonder where he went. She’d never considered it might be for companionship. The thought of him surrounded by these mysterious and beautiful women, waving their seductively bared wrists at him, made her scowl.
‘Well, if you’re wondering…’ Bai Shen folded his hands behind his back, continuing their stroll casually ‘…Fei Long doesn’t have a taste for delicate evening flowers. He seems to prefer awkward country tea girls.’
‘Stop teasing me.’ Her mood darkened, yet she followed after him, hanging on every word. ‘And I don’t care who he prefers. Why would I? I have a most exalted wedding in my future.’
He cast a sceptical glance over his shoulder, then turned to face her. ‘You can’t lie to me, pretty lady. I can see how you’re blushing just thinking of him.’
‘I’m not blushing.’
‘He’s behind you,’ he said pleasantly.
‘Now who’s lying?’
A dangerous look flickered across Bai Shen’s face. Before she could react, he grabbed her and trapped her against him.
She shoved at his shoulders. ‘Bai—’
Her protest was cut short as he pressed his mouth over hers. The shock of the kiss stole the fight from her for only a second. She braced her hands against his chest, trying to twist away, but he only held her tighter.
Suddenly, his grip loosened. Bai Shen was torn violently away from her and she staggered from the force of it. Fei Long appeared as a dark blur with his hand clenched around the collar of Bai Shen’s robe. His other hand closed into a fist.
‘Wait—’ She couldn’t find her voice in time.
Fei Long struck him square across the face and Bai Shen staggered to the ground.
‘Bastard.’ Fei Long moved to stand over him, his eyes hooded and black with rage.
Never had the differences between the two men been more evident. Fei Long stood like a citadel, broad-shouldered and imposing. Bai Shen was slight and wiry by comparison. He raised himself onto one knee.
Blood flowed from his lip and Bai Shen’s eyes narrowed. For the barest second, a look of rage crossed his face. ‘Have you gone mad? How am I going to look pretty for the performance tonight?’ He pressed a hand to his split lip and tried to play off the incident, but it was too late.
‘Get out,’ Fei Long commanded. ‘If you ever set foot in this house again, I’ll kill you.’
It was a quiet, deadly promise. Yan Ling’s heart pounded as Bai Shen picked himself off the floor. What had happened? Fei Long had lost his mind. Both of them had.
She tried to push forwards. ‘He didn’t mean anything.’
Fei Long ignored her as he waited for Bai Shen to leave. The actor brushed the dust from his robe.
‘You see?’ he said to her. His lips curled into a mock smile, but his eyes remained distant.
Only after Bai Shen disappear
ed out the front gate did Fei Long face her.
‘I meant what I said,’ he warned her, as if she were in allegiance with Bai Shen. ‘He will not come by here again.’
He crossed the courtyard and disappeared into the interior of the house, while she was left beneath the glare of the sun, bewildered. She could still feel the imprint of Bai Shen’s hands against her back. Her mouth still throbbed from his assault. And that was exactly what it had been. The actor had never shown any hint of interest in her, she was certain of it.
She ran after Fei Long, weaving her way through the inner corridor of the east wing. It was a part of the house she’d only been to once in her wanderings. The door at the end of the hall had been flung open. She went to it and found Fei Long at the centre of the room with his back to her, shoulders tense.
‘Bai Shen didn’t mean any harm, my lord,’ she said, nearly out of breath.
‘Yan Ling.’ Fei Long turned slowly. ‘This is my private chamber.’
The fire was gone from his expression. He’d replaced it with an impassive mask.
‘Please. You know Bai Shen. He was only playing.’
‘Playing?’ His voice hardened. ‘That’s all the world is to the two of you. One endless game.’
‘The two of us—’ she sputtered, affronted. ‘How can you blame me for any of this?’
She kept seeing Bai Shen on the ground, his face bloodied, with Fei Long towering over him, yet it was if she was the one who’d been stricken. Something had broken between all of them. She didn’t know what or how and she was so very confused.
Fei Long regarded her coldly, but his jaw was clenched. The vein in his neck pulsed and she could see the rise and fall of his chest. He was holding himself back with control strained so tightly that it was ready to snap. All her hours with him, in close quarters in quiet reflection, told her this.
‘Bai Shen was only trying to make you—’
‘Angry,’ he finished for her.
She was going to say jealous, but she fell silent, realising how humiliating and revealing that thought was.
‘I am angry.’ His tone remained flat. ‘You’re under my care, my protection. As is everyone in this household. I won’t allow anyone to be mistreated like that.’
‘But he’s your friend.’
‘Not any more.’
Whatever Bai Shen had intended, he’d gone too far. Fei Long was closing himself off. The walls of his ire rose around him.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she whispered.
She wanted the uneasy peace between them back—all those unspoken thoughts and hopes, as frustrating as they were.
His stone-cold voice pierced through her. ‘Go outside and close the door. You’re not to be in here.’
* * *
Fei Long waited for the door to shut and separate him from the rest of the world. From Yan Ling. He continued to wait long enough for her to walk the short length of the corridor. She’d go back to the gardens or retire to her room. Wherever she went, it would never be far enough. He would still think of her and seek her out to the furthest reaches of his senses.
The grasslands of Khitan were not far enough.
If he’d had his sword, he would have killed that fool Bai Shen. The actor was always looking for an excuse to goad him, but by all the demons in hell, this wasn’t a game to Fei Long. Seeing Yan Ling in another man’s arms had been the most vicious of taunts, because Fei Long knew what was inevitable. In less than two months, she would be taken from him to be delivered as a peace offering.
Fei Long sat on his bed at the far end of the room and sank his head in his hands. Yan Ling slept in a similar one. He’d been in her chamber not two weeks ago. He knew how her skin glimmered beneath the moonlight. Knew where she slept only a short distance away from his chamber.
That bastard had been kissing her. Kissing her. Yan Ling didn’t deserve to be treated like that.
He dug his fingers into his scalp until there was edifying pain. All those afternoons they’d spent together. Alone. Unattended. He’d had thoughts, but thoughts only. He had always remained respectful toward her as their stations demanded. He would never take such liberties. Yan Ling trusted him and she had worked so hard to better herself.
The room grew hot, nearly stifling as the day reached noon time. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. There was too much for him to do, but he wasn’t yet ready to leave this confinement.
There would be no afternoon lesson today. He couldn’t bear being so close to Yan Ling. He didn’t know why he’d lashed out at her as well. His anger had no beginning and no end.
There might not be a lesson tomorrow either.
Chapter Thirteen
Fei Long declared that there would be no lesson for the last few days and Yan Ling was too intimidated to question him about it after he’d coldly put her in her place. Bai Shen didn’t come by for the rest of the week either. She was hoping he would return to set everything right. The two men were almost like brothers—brothers who traded insults and fought and were opposite in every way—but brothers none the less.
If the scoundrel had just returned with a humble apology and a few witty remarks the next day, all might have been forgiven. Instead Bai Shen stayed away and Fei Long continued to shut doors between them. Without her morning or afternoon lessons, it fell upon Dao and Yan Ling to come up with their own routine.
Dao had no complaints. She’d ushered Yan Ling to the market, holding a parasol over her like a dutiful attendant.
‘We don’t have to be so formal,’ Yan Ling protested. It was important for them to maintain appearances, but it still felt unnatural being coddled so.
‘You don’t want to take up any sun and get dark,’ Dao insisted.
She wondered if Dao had been such a nag to Pearl. They were trailed by the burly Huibin, one of the fetch-and-carry attendants who helped with the market purchases and went wherever he was needed. They moved to the shade beneath the row of trees at the edge of the lane. The heat only faded slightly in the wane of the afternoon. She wore a simple robe today, though she would have considered the peach-coloured cotton an unimaginable luxury not a month ago. The fabric was light and more suitable for prolonged activity like the long stroll to the market.
‘Dao, do you have anyone?’ she asked.
‘Anyone?’
They were crowded close to one another so the shade of the bamboo parasol covered both of them.
‘Like a young handsome someone, you mean.’ Dao laughed.
There were two different Daos. In front of Fei Long, the master of the house, Dao was timid, respectful and chose her words with utter care. When the two of them were alone, Dao threw words about like a fisherman scattering rice.
Yan Ling lowered her voice. ‘Yes, so?’
Speaking about such a personal issue out in public made her nervous, but the crowded city seemed a more secure place for secret yearnings than the Chang family home.
‘Who would I possibly be fond of? Old Man Liang has hardly any teeth.’
Yan Ling stifled a laugh.
Dao went on. ‘Those boys in the kitchen and the stables? Or that mule Huibin over there? Worthless.’
Yan Ling cringed and didn’t dare look back to see if the manservant had overheard. ‘Huibin’s not so bad,’ she whispered.
Dao sniffed. ‘You’re right. He’s the best of them. So, no, I haven’t anyone.’
Yan Ling knew that the household adored Dao—adored her for her cleverness and feared her for her sharp tongue.
‘I was just trying to imagine what it must be like,’ Yan Ling said wistfully.
‘It must be the weather.’ Dao sighed.
‘What?’
‘When the spring turns to summer in this city, it does this to everyone. One becomes moody. Starts writing poems.’
Yan Ling smirked. ‘I don’t believe I’ve written any poems lately.’
She gave Dao a playful shove as they turned the corner. She could see the towering gate of the ce
ntral market at the end of the street.
‘Well, you must not have a special yearning for someone either,’ Dao said.
Her heart skipped faster at just the empty thought, even before she filled it in with a name. With a face. ‘There’s no one.’
‘Otherwise you would have never agreed to come with Lord Chang to the city.’
‘Or agree to be married to a barbarian,’ she added absently.
‘It truly is a beautiful opportunity for you. A dream.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Truly.’
The buzz of the East Market had reached them. They passed beneath the arch of the gates into a sprawl of shops and warehouses. Traffic flowed lazily today, indolent in the sun and slow sticky-syrup time of the afternoon.
The main market was comprised of a grid of two north-south lanes intersecting two east–west lanes. Yan Ling counted four times that she had visited the East Market, yet she hadn’t explored even half of the merchants. Dao would usually grab her hand and drag her along impatiently, bypass the sightseeing to go directly to her favourite spots. In contrast, Yan Ling wanted to see everything. She would spend hours going from one stand to another if left on her own.
Along with the permanent buildings, there were stalls set up within empty lots and draped with canopies to block the sun. Street pedlars also roamed the lanes, hauling a cart of sweet pastries here, a basket of salted eggs there. Every speck of the market was dedicated to commerce.
A display of painted jars at one stand caught Yan Ling’s eye. The small break in her stride was all it took for the grey-haired woman to waddle towards them.
‘Come in, come in, my beautiful ladies!’ The grandmother figure beckoned them closer with a wave. ‘We have perfumes, powders, paint of all colours.’
The shop was a wooden enclosure draped with a blue-cloth canopy overhead. Dao lowered the parasol as Yan Ling stepped inside. A collection of small jars and porcelain containers had been arranged on the counter. She ran her fingertip over the blue-glaze pattern on a round dish that fitted in the palm of her hand. It was so pretty for something so insignificant.
An elderly man, presumably the owner, sat in the corner of the shop, fanning himself. He apparently left the selling to his wife.