Chapter Twenty-Eight
SUNLIGHT TOUCHED Xian’s skin, warm against the side of his face. He blinked his eyes open, their puffiness leaving him feeling as though he were squinting into the light; which was duller than its warmth suggested.
He vaguely recalled Lim guiding him here, out into the garden behind the shoemaker’s workshop, seating him beneath the round roof of a modest pavilion.
Xian had cried to the point of fearing his chi would drain from him entirely. He sat now emptied, slack-boned, and peaceful with his head resting upon Lim’s shoulder, his body held in the shoemaker’s embrace.
Xian shifted, the fading afternoon sunshine against the scars on his cheek, Lim’s arm against those at his hip. He felt no compulsion to shift away, even though his hands rested on the shoemaker’s thigh, and their bodies pressed close.
This type of closeness was not one Xian was familiar with; he thought he’d be more frightened to find himself in such a pose.
But yet again, he found peace with this man.
With such comfort, he wondered if it would be so terrible to allow the shoemaker to see how unnatural he truly was. Mercy, his mother, had chosen Song Lim after all.
He sat up; upended by his own brazen thoughts.
‘Are you all right?’ Lim said.
Xian nodded, wiping at his tears. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Tired…’
Exhausted by the shedding of years worth of tears; of learning his mother had been close, seeing him, when he thought himself invisible.
But crying on Lim’s shoulder had solved none of their dilemmas. Xian was still part guest, part prisoner and too many parts fox, and Lim was shackled like a slave to Master Chen, to avoid being thrown into confinement, at the mercy of Captain Duan.
Xian shivered.
‘You are not fine,’ Lim huffed. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you out here, its cooler than I expected, but I thought the sunlight and fresh air may help.’
‘I’m not cold, honestly. How long have we been out here?’
Lim was likely feeling the cold thanks to Xian drenching his clothing in tears.
‘Not long.’ Lim shifted on the curve of the seat to face Xian more fully.
‘I must thank you, Lim, for enduring my outburst so well.’ He gestured meekly towards the damp mark upon the shoemaker’s jacket. ‘I’m sorry for…that.’
‘What?’ Lim made a show of peering down at himself. ‘Are your tears full of squid ink that I’ll never remove?’
‘Of course not, I just meant—’
‘Xian, you do not need to thank me for simply acting as a friend would. It’s insulting, if I’m truly honest.’
Xian smiled, relieved to do something other than cry; the shoemaker remained exactly as blunt as he recalled.
‘I would never seek to insult you.’ Feeling brave and foolish, he pushed on.
‘I’ve not had many friends, Lim. Certainly none like you, who would travel so far, with a bewitched slipper, so they might find me.
But I wonder, if I tell you all there is to tell, whether you shall wish you’d never been compelled to lift that shoe from the pond. ’
That wiped all the teasing delight from Lim’s face.
‘Why do you say such things?’ He got to his feet, the slipper on the seat beside where he’d rested.
Xian did not recall when he’d let it go, but his heart ached all over again to see Mercy’s scales set amongst the gleaming beauty.
‘And I was not compelled, damn it. I told you, I did not need any enchantment to encourage me to follow you. What do you wish to tell me that has you so certain I shall run away screaming the moment its said?’
Xian opened his mouth, and closed it again, toying with the edge of his sleeve, conscious of the slight weight of the slipper still hidden within.
Lim turned away, huffing his unhappiness, but not forcing anything further from Xian.
He folded his arms, pacing the short length of the rounded pavilion; which overlooked a walled garden, carpeted in bobbing yellow and white narcissus blooms, with a water feature at its centre.
Master Chen’s passion for the gods was evident here too, with Ao Qin, Dragon King of the South Sea, rising from an enormous bowl of polished brass, the water spilling from between his pointed teeth.
Xian touched his damp nose with the inner lining of his sleeve, as much to wipe it whilst Lim’s back was turned, as to have some reprieve from the narcissus flower’s heady, animalic scent.
‘How did you find me.’ Lim stood gazing out at the flowing water. ‘You came alone. No one guided you.’
Xian lowered the sleeve. ‘There was a flower woman, she told me of your troubles, and pointed me in the right direction.’ He hadn’t lied; simply hadn’t told the whole truth. But blurting out that he’d smelled his way to the shoemaker did not appeal.
Lim glanced over his shoulder. ‘Mai? Was she tending the flowers at your window?’
‘No, I found her by her cart. How did you know I had flowers?’
He turned, leaning against the forest green railing; red lanterns swinging above his head. ‘I saw your room…I saw you at the window. You found her cart?’
‘You found my room?’ Xian frowned. ‘That means you were in the inner courtyard. Why did you not ask to be shown to me…or call to me?’
Lim laughed shortly. ‘Because I would have been thrown out on my ear sooner than I was about to be…before Chen stepped in. I wasn’t supposed to be where I was, and thought I was done for when the Englishman found me.
I was lucky all he took was my bucket of lotus seeds.
’ He glanced over Xian’s shoulder. ‘Chen will not like seeing those shackles on the floor when he returns, curses or not. Xian, we need to—’
‘Englishman?’ A prickle of anticipation ran beneath Xian’s skin. ‘Lotus seeds?’
‘Xian, we need to discuss your departure from this place—’
‘Please, Lim. Tell me of the Englishman.’
With a frown, Lim complied. ‘Green eyes, very pink mouth. Pretty, much as a woman might be, though vulgar as a boatman.’
‘Sir William.’ Xian’s pulse galloped. ‘Did he say anything of me?’
‘William, that’s what the woman called him.
Yes. He spoke of you…that’s right.’ Lim was frowning again; Xian seemed to cause him to do that far too much.
‘I had forgotten with all that’s gone on.
He seemed to know you.’ Lim’s gaze shifted to the floor, and he crossed his arms over his chest. A move Xian was learning denoted his unease. ‘And knew of me…somehow, too.’
‘What did he say?’ Xian leaned to retrieve the slipper from the seat, needing the comfort of its scales in his hand.
‘A few things,’ Lim said. ‘Strange things, very strange man…he might have been drunk.’
Xian curled his hand around the slipper. ‘He wasn’t…or well, he likely was, but it would make little difference. Please, tell me what he told you. I must know.’
Lim looked up. ‘You said you had an encounter, one you fear telling me about…is it to do with this William? Did something unpleasant happen between you?’
‘No…well something happened, but it was not all unpleasant.’ Xian stared down at the slipper; tracing and retracing the line of golden scales. ‘He…enlightened me, Lim. In a way that has changed me completely.’
A strangled sound came from Lim, and Xian raised his head.
‘I see.’ The shoemaker held himself so tightly it must have pained him where his arm was cut. ‘And here I am, keeping you from being further enlightened.’
‘What? Why would you say that?’
‘I’m just saying, you must be eager to return to Sir William, and now with such lovely shoes to delight him. I expect he’ll be enraptured by them.’
Xian blinked, quite at a loss. ‘Why would I wish to show him the slippers?’
‘Who am I to say what goes on between you.’ Lim drummed his fingers against blood-soaked fabric. Looking everywhere but at Xian. ‘But I’d be careful there, Xian. Very careful indeed. That man is not the type to keep only one lover in his bed.’
‘Master Song!’ Xian set down the slipper heavily, pleased at how it caused the shoemaker to wince. ‘You are the very last man I thought would cast such cruel words my way.’
Lim’s scowl was replaced by a look of horror. ‘Cruel? Your Highness—’
‘Xian.’
‘Xian, damn it,’ Lim shook his head in frustration. ‘Never, ever would I say such words to be cruel. I am just…’
He paused so long, Xian glared at him. ‘Just what, Master Song?’
‘Lim.’
Xian kept his lips pressed tight, still reeling from the suggestion he’d been bedded by Sir William Black. How by the Seven Maidens had Lim jumped to such a wild conclusion as that?
The shoemaker sighed. ‘I am acting the jealous fool, forgive me.’
‘Jealous?’ Xian blinked. Not a single person alive had said such a thing to him. ‘You are jealous…at thought of me laying with Sir William?’
Lim groaned, covering his ears. ‘Can you not speak of it so plainly? I am pleased, truly, if you have found some solace here. It has just come as a surprise, that is all.’
‘You are not alone in that surprise, Lim.’
‘Well, that’s…I’m happy for you, your highness. I just ask that you are careful around him. His type enjoy toying with hearts. I’ve known their type…damn it, I’ve been his type, I’m sure.’ His face was covered in a dark blush. ‘Now, would you like me to check the fitting of the slippers for you?’
‘You are being ridiculous,’ Xian shouted, his own face burning with heat. ‘I’ve not taken him to my bed. I’ve never taken anyone to my bed. So stop this at once.’
The Dragon King could have come to life, and eaten Xian whole, and he’d not have struggled; the conversation had turned into a nightmare. He pressed his veil over his face, dying a hundred deaths.
‘That is a relief.’ Lim groaned. ‘No, I mean…I’m relieved Sir William wasn’t your…’ Another groan. ‘Let’s forget him altogether.’
‘I can’t do that, Lim.’ Mercy’s scales were sharp against Xian’s clenched fingers. ‘Will you listen while I tell you as much as I can, before Chen returns?’
‘Of course.’ Lim hurried the four brief steps it took to cross the small pavilion, and sat down next to Xian, pushing the gown aside to bring himself closer.
‘But I must say something first. I wish for us to leave here, Xian. I fear for you, in Mandarin Feng’s palace, in Manhao itself.
This is not a safe place for you, and I do not refer to Sir William alone in that, though he bothers me just as well.
But I’ll not embarrass myself again by speaking on him.
’ He grimaced. ‘Can you ever forgive me for all that horrendous babble just now? I lose my senses where you are concerned.’
Xian set down the slipper on his lap, flustered by the shoemaker’s confession.
His whole body trembled, but he turned so that his knee nudged Lim’s thigh; offering what closeness he could to a man that deserved far more.
‘I know…’ How you feel, he wished to say.
I am the same. But other words had to come first. ‘I know I am not safe here, nor are you, now they know you have come for me. There was never an intention for me to return to Kunming. I have been handed over.’ Cast aside for the second time in his life.
‘And fear what the mandarin intends as my purpose.’
Lim’s grim expression told Xian the shoemaker shared his fears, but he took Xian’s hands in his, and leaned close.
‘Whatever he intended shall not come to pass. I promise you that.’ He lifted Xian’s hand to his lips, watchful for signs his touch wasn’t welcome.
Xian nodded; breathing in the scent of the indomitable man who held him.
Lim kissed the back of Xian’s hand, a lingering touch of soft lips, and heated breath; burning away all that had passed, and all that would be. He swore he heard the rapid beat of the shoemaker’s heart, matching his own.
‘I want to tell you everything, Song Lim. But there is not much time. Master Chen is returning.’
‘Where is he?’ Lim lifted his lips from Xian’s hand; withdrawing a feeling Xian knew he could no longer be satisfied without.
‘No, he’s not that close, but he’ll be here soon. I…’ He ran his tongue over his lips. ‘I can smell the noodles, and his clothes. He reeks of the incense he burns. And…complains loudly of being made to run about. He’s not pleased with us.’
Lim nodded slowly. ‘You hear him.’
‘I hear him.’
‘And smell him.’
‘Yes.’
The shoemaker tugged at his jacket, edging in even closer. ‘Right then, best you tell me all that you can.’