Authors: Jeannie Lin
Chapter Twelve
S
ummer 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.’
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.