Chapter Twenty-One
Leander was exhausted by the time they dragged themselves and the surviving baskets back to the Ring City.
They trudged through the wide lane that cut across all the circular roads, people coming and going in a colorful mass of embroidered robes and chuihu sleeves and handcarts loaded with hand-woven baskets.
Something about the pace, about the sheer alienness of it, soothed Leander’s soul.
This wasn’t America with the traffic and the horns and the criminal enterprise he’d sold himself to behind every corner.
Xi did not seem as sanguine. “I’m finding myself sympathizing with five-year-olds who insistently ask, ‘Are we there yet,’” Xi said.
Leander rolled his eyes. “I will tell you what any competent parent would say: Stop asking before I pull out your tongue and tie it in a knot.”
Xi barked a laugh. “I’m fairly sure parents are not supposed to resort to those sorts of threats.”
“How would you know?” Leander demanded before adding in a softer voice, “How would either of us know?”
“Point,” Xi admitted. “So, would you pull my tongue out if I asked how long it’s going to take to get home?”
“You walked out here the same as I did. You should be able to find the Nie house as well as I.” Leander detoured around a flower vendor with a cart filled with pink peonies and yellow, white, and orange chrysanthemums and enormous lotus blossoms. The magic drifting from them was much more intense than in the outside world.
The lotus filled the street with a soothing balm that made Leander believe for just one moment that all would be fine.
Xi said, “Yes, but without my shadows, I’m struggling. I think I might rely too much on having that magic live under my skin.”
Leander didn’t want to listen to Xi whine for the next fifteen minutes, so he said, “We have to pass two more circle roads to reach the one with red stone embedded in the paving. Then we turn east.”
“You know, as deeply shadowed as this city is, it would be ridiculously easy for me to navigate if someone hadn’t bruised my magical pathways.” Xi gave him an exaggerated look of disgust.
“Next time I shall remember that you prefer to be dead.” Leander tried to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched, and Xi grinned back at him.
By the time they reached the right road, Leander’s shoulders were aching from carrying the phoenix basket.
While he had faith in his own craftsmanship, he did not want to risk the sides collapsing if he held it too tightly, and that meant he had to hold his arms out in a way that was unnatural.
It may not have been painful when he started, but his shoulders were screaming at him.
Xi hugged a tall stack of baskets in his arms, and Leander wondered if he could ask to switch.
But the phoenix basket felt special to him.
This was his masterpiece, and while he had learned to trust Xi with his own body, trusting him with something as valuable as the phoenix basket felt far more frightening.
So he struggled through, the muscles cramping before Xi said, “Is that the Nie house?” The familiar gate and its guarding foo dogs came into sight at the far edge of the curved road.
“It is.”
Xi huffed loudly. “Oh, thank God. I don’t have to throw your basket down in the street.”
“Do it, and I‘ll murder you in your sleep tonight,” Leander said in a calm voice.
Xi had the audacity to grin at him as they came up to the carved doors with their colorful trim. Maybe the servants used magic because one appeared when Leander and Xi were a few steps away and pushed the double doors open and bowed.
“Craftsman Lian and qidi of Craftsman Lian, welcome home.”
“Will anyone ever use my name?” Xi whispered in a mournful voice.
Leander stomped on Xi’s foot. Xi danced to the side, and the tower of baskets wobbled precariously before the servant darted forward to stabilize the pile.
“I thank you for saving the baskets from someone’s ineptitude,” Leander said.
Xi snorted as the servant claimed the stack of baskets as though not trusting him to carry them across the courtyard without dropping them. Leander was both amused and a little envious because he was still carrying his phoenix basket and his shoulders hurt.
“Of course, Master Craftsman Lian. Where should you like the baskets taken?” The servant asked.
Leander considered his answer. He had no use for so many baskets, but he also didn’t know where to sell them.
Auntie Daiyu did, but she lived in the outer village.
“Could you take them to Mother Huiling? Maybe she can help me decide what is to be done with them. I intend this basket to be a present for Father Xiaobo and Mother Huiling, so please let me know when they are available.” Leander expected to go back to their very tiny bedroom, which he feared would feel even smaller and more awkward now that he was having sex with the very attractive man he shared a bed with.
The same man he’d been trying to avoid touching for days now.
The servant’s eyes widened as he noticed the phoenix basket in Leander’s arms. “Please follow me,” he said.
Leander opened his mouth to protest. His cuffs were muddy.
His skin had traces of his... seed. Worse, it had traces of Xi’s.
However, the servant was already moving with quick steps.
Leander risked offending the Nies by showing up looking like a cat toy that’d been dragged through the mud, but he also risked offending them if he refused to show up when expected.
Xi shrugged. He was no help. With a sigh, Leander followed the servant who led them through both the outer and the inner courtyard with its pair of trees.
Leander allowed his magic to dance with the leaves for a moment.
There’d been a stranger in the courtyard and low angry voices, but Leander didn’t have the skill to determine more than that from the awareness of the plants, not even one with as good a memory as a tree.
The servant led them up the wide stairs and into the main reception room where Leander had served the Nies tea and where just this morning Mother Huiling had chastised him for drinking, ironic given that it was Father Xiaobo who insisted on Leander accepting every toast made in his name.
The entire town had tried to get Leander dangerously drunk.
Perhaps even fatally so. That was an uncharitable thought, but the sheer volume of alcohol had been distressing.
The servant put the baskets down on a low table before bowing to them. “I will get the master and mistress.” He disappeared through an ornate door.
“Do we sit or stand?” Xi asked.
“Why are you asking me?” Leander put the phoenix basket next to the others and rolled his neck. Blessed relief. Just letting his arms fall to his sides was near orgasmic after holding them stiffly for so long.
“Because you seem to know the rules better than I do? That seems like a good reason to ask you.”
Leander scoffed. “The rules for being an American guest who gets occasional dinner invitations do not seem applicable to a situation where a powerful family adopted me.”
“Got it. So you are completely and entirely lost.”
Leander glared at Xi, his gaze threatening murder, but in the end, he had to admit, “Yes.”
For some reason, that made Xi smile, and Leander rolled his eyes.
They didn’t wait long, however. Mother Huiling came with a smile, and Father Xiaobo followed with bloodshot and watery eyes.
Leander wondered whether he had refused the sobering potion or if Mother Huiling had refused to make it for him.
Either seemed possible. Leander bowed deeply, and Father Xiaobo waved a dismissive hand.
“Enough of that. You’re family. Bow when you return from some great voyage, not when you come to tea.
Sit. Sit.” Father Xiaobo sat on one of the low couches and gestured to the other.
“You appear to have been productive today.” Mother Huiling eyed the pile of baskets. “I assume all went well?” Her gaze lingered on Leander’s mud-stained embroidery and Xi’s messy hair.
“A bird of some sort knocked us off the top of the slope and sent us tumbling into a muddy part of the river. That was the climax of our adventure,” Leander said, and he forced his mind away from the other activities that had left them in disarray.
“A bird?” Father Xiaobo’s expression grew sharper.
“A very large bird,” Xi added.
“We have not heard of any bird attacks.” Father Xiaobo seemed far too concerned for a bird. It wasn’t as though they had found a dragon.
“I sincerely hope the bird will not attack anyone else,” Leander said.
“However, it only startled us enough to knock us down the hill and destroy one basket.” Leander stood and picked up the phoenix basket.
“Luckily, it was not this basket. I created this for you, and I would have mourned its loss.” He walked to the Nies and put the phoenix basket on the low table in front of them.
Father Xiaobo touched the figure woven into the basket. “The work is exquisite.”
“Thank you. I am sure many craftsmen could produce equally magnificent pieces, but I am very blessed that my magic allows me to do this with speed.” Leander detracted from the compliment, not only because Chinese manners demanded it but also because he hated hearing people compliment him to his face.
It never felt genuine, and he was always searching for the hidden insult or the concealed condescension.
“You overestimate the skill of others,” Father Xiaobo said. “You must have impressive control over your qi for such works.”
“I have a Westerner’s control over magic,” Leander said. “I have traded breadth of skill for deep control over a very narrow aspect of it.”
Mother Huiling lifted the woven lid and then gasped, her hand fluttering around her neck.