Chapter Eight #3
The second slipper fit as easily as the first, and there was nothing to suggest any change was needed, but either from habit, or desire, Lim ran his fingertip along the edge, skirting Xian’s skin, ensuring the fit was not too tight.
He pressed at the toes, checking they were not squeezed into an uncomfortable shape by the narrow point.
The prince did not say a word, his soft exhales even, unburdened by the panic of earlier.
‘Not too tight?’ Lim knew the answer, but he was selfish. If he let go now, who knew when such a chance would return?
‘No. Not too tight. Nor too loose.’ Xian set his free foot down, tapping the low heel against the floor. ‘Nor too high, or too low. They are superb.’
With reluctance, Lim opened his hand, and the prince slid his foot free.
‘They are yours.’ He smiled, but already was thinking how different the Governor’s manor would feel without the prince’s presence.
The fates were unkind to have their paths cross, then send them in different directions so soon after.
Something of this man had burrowed beneath his skin.
‘A pity they are not suitable for dancing. I could make you new dance shoes when you return? If you like?’
He’d never been one for asking to be employed either, and here he was, sounding pathetically hopeful.
‘Oh, but I can dance in these.’ Xian rose to his feet, keeping his robe lifted as he turned about in graceful circles.
‘I feel bare-footed, it is so wonderful. They flex like a second skin.’ He unclenched one hand, allowing the fabric to flow as he twirled about, his moves every bit as mesmerising as when he’d performed the yayue.
‘I shall take these to Manhao, and tell everyone who asks that there is a master shoemaker in Kunming. You shall be inundated with orders, I’m certain. ’
His entire countenance brightened as he swayed beneath the watchful eye of the goddess. Lim could not help but be brightened too.
‘I only have two hands, maybe only tell half the people who ask.’
Laughter flew like butterflies, full of life, from the prince. ‘Very well. Be ready for a summons to Manhao, Shoemaker Lim. I’ll send word as soon as I have enough custom to make the journey worth your while.’
Now, that was a thought that had Lim’s head feeling light, his restless feet ready to march back to his workshop that instant and pack for a trip south.
He’d not been to Manhao, avoiding smaller river towns, thinking them likely full of sailors and merchants and workingmen who’d only want their boots repaired; men of their ilk were hard to convince to let go of worn shoes that were practically fused to their feet.
But that was before he’d found the owner of his slippers.
‘I shall wait for your summons with high hopes and bated breath.’ Lim laughed, watching diamond moonlight spill from the prince’s feet as he twisted and turned, bowing low to the goddess, then dancing on the point of one slipper, kicking out his leg in such a way that the layers of gown spilled around him like the blooming petals of a deep red flower.
‘Evening to you, guardsman.’ The voice came from outside, beyond their warm and private space. ‘Late for you to be out this way, is it not.’
Xian’s dance came to an abrupt halt, his hands flying to his veil. His joy extinguished. ‘That is Daoshi Wenming. He warns us.’
‘Warns us about what?’
‘Return to your bed, old daoshi,’ a curt voice returned. ‘I am sent to ensure Prince Xian remains in prayer.’
Lim pressed his lips, understanding now. The old man kept the visitor at bay for them.
‘The Marchioness is unhappy that I evaded her this afternoon.’ Xian teetered on the edge of his panic once more, hurrying to fix his veil but fumbling with it as his fingers caught in his hair. ‘Perhaps it is a good thing I shall ride for Manhao. Her eyes will never leave me otherwise.’
Lim had only to recall the lecherous way the captain had regarded Prince Xian to think it was not a good thing at all.
‘Here, let me help you.’ When no protest came, Lim quickly lifted the loop and slipped it over Xian’s ear. ‘There it is done. Now let us sit down and pray, that is what she wants to see, is it not?’
‘Young man, could you pick up my walking stick.’ Wenming gave them more time, something Lim gave thanks to the goddess for. ‘My back won’t bend me enough to reach it.’
‘Yes, master. But then you’ll return to your abode. It’s too late and dark for wandering about.’
Xian swept up to Lim in a hush of skirts, his face behind the veil once more. ‘You can’t stay here. I am to be in solitude. You must go.’
‘What if I had arrived after you? I’ve a right to pray, the marchioness can have no quarrel with that.’
‘Please, Song Lim,’ Xian pleaded. ‘I would not forgive myself if she denied you those orders the Lady Tian has placed. You should not be punished, when it is I who has gone against her wishes.’
Lim had much to say on those wishes, and the woman herself. But now was not the time, not with Xian so clearly distressed. ‘Very well. Is there another way out of the shrine? He’s too close to use the main door.’
He picked up the lacquered box.
‘Yes, yes. Back beyond the firebox. Please hurry.’ Xian returned the cushions to a corner of the room.
Lim headed toward the side of the platform, where the goddess of mercy showed them none.
‘Thank you, kind man,’ Master Wenming called. ‘You’ve been helpful indeed.’
‘Master, don’t shout so loud. I am right here.’
Xian cast him a panicked look. ‘Go.’
Lim dashed to the back of the shrine, sliding the panel open at the same time the guard did for the entrance at the front. He ran out into the night, which had dipped cold and dark; racing away with his empty box, grateful that Xian had been too distracted to try to return the slippers.
Lim’s gift might again bring that wondrous smile to his face.