7 – Zhi Lan
A fter Yao had finished forging their papers, An Qin saw the two of them off with a bundle of steamed buns.
The city was fully awake now, the streets crowded in the late afternoon. Much to her embarrassment, Zhi Lan had to grab the back of Shao Qing’s belt so she wouldn’t lose him.
Her feet grew sore after they had walked a little over halfway through the city. Luckily, they came across a generous merchant who allowed them to ride on the back of his cart in exchange for some of An Qin’s steamed buns. Zhi Lan and Shao Qing ate the rest. The buns were still warm, stuffed with cabbage and pork, and Zhi Lan savored every bite. But when dusk began to paint the horizon with its hazy purples and pinks, she grew hungry again.
“We’ll have to stop for today,” Shao Qing said.
The merchant dropped them off before a tea house in a busy street, as his path diverged with theirs. Zhi Lan watched the cart disappear regretfully.
“Are you sure we can’t make it to the gate?” Zhi Lan stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to see the city gate, though to no avail. Her view was blocked by tall buildings with upturned eaves, lit by red and yellow lanterns.
“It’s still miles away,” Shao Qing said. “We’ll get there in the morning.”
Zhi Lan sighed, wishing they had a horse drawn carriage like the wealthy folk. A journey between the neighboring cities would take half a day at most. “I hate leaving Master Dan at a time like this. He must be worried.”
With some unease, she recalled that the magistrate had given them three days to complete a duplicate painting. The first day was coming to a close. She didn’t know if a magistrate could hang anyone he pleased—there were laws, after all. But he was a powerful man. He was meant to enforce the law. Perhaps he could bend it too.
There was no use thinking such grim thoughts now. The faster Zhi Lan completed this errand, the faster she’d be able to give Master Dan good news.
Shao Qing tilted his head to the tea house, not bothering to appease or comfort her. Not that she expected it.
“Let’s go, then,” Zhi Lan said with a sigh.
The tea house had two levels and was bustling with city folk taking their evening meals. A server scampered up and guided them to a table on the upper level where they had a bird’s-eye view of the ground floor through an intricately carved wooden railing. They were served tea, and Zhi Lan picked out a few dishes after Shao Qing made no move to do so.
Her attention wandered as they waited for their food. On the level below, a small stage graced the center, where an elderly man was telling a dramatized tale to an enraptured audience, gesturing with his white fan.
Zhi Lan perked up when she recognized the story. It was about a snake spirit who had become human to repay her benefactor, a young man studying medicine. The two end up falling in love and marrying, despite the meddling of a self-righteous abbot.
“The Legend of the White Snake!” Zhi Lan said, delighted. It was her favorite story, one that she begged Ma to tell her over and over again when she was little. “It’s so romantic, isn’t it?”
Shao Qing took a sip of his tea. “It’s impossible for a demon to have feelings. They are heartless creatures.”
Zhi Lan arched a brow. “How would you know? People have the capacity to be heartless. There could very well be demons who possess humanity.”
“It’s impossible,” Shao Qing said.
“I disagree.”
He inclined his head and went back to his tea.
“For a stubborn man you’re not very argumentative,” Zhi Lan said.
“Why argue when we’ve each made our stances clear?”
Zhi Lan was determined to get a reaction out of him, if only to pass the time.
“Even if it is impossible,” she said, “that is what makes the story so compelling. Surely your favorite story has impossibilities.”
“I don’t have a favorite story.”
As she processed that bland reply, the server came back with food. There was half a steamed fish, two bowls of rice, and a selection of pickled vegetables. Zhi Lan thanked him, bringing a slice of lotus root to her mouth with her chopsticks. It was braised in a flavorful sweet and savory sauce, the texture delightfully crisp. The fish was tender and perfectly seasoned with ginger and salt. The slices of pickled radish on the side were tart and refreshing. Zhi Lan sighed in satisfaction with each new flavor. Meals on the farm had always been plain—they never had such a variety of spices in their pantries. City food had certainly spoiled her.
When the dishes were done, the server stopped by with a platter of peaches. Zhi Lan took one eagerly, peeling the soft pink skin away to reveal white flesh. There was nothing better than a perfectly ripened summer peach.
She was halfway done with the fruit when she realized Shao Qing was staring at her.
Zhi Lan wiped her mouth self-consciously. “What?”
“You’re like a little girl,” Shao Qing said with a slow blink.
“How so?”
“You look as if that peach is the best thing that has ever happened to you.”
Zhi Lan finished her peach, setting the pit and the skin neatly into her empty rice bowl. “So what, just because I’m grown I can’t enjoy things?” she challenged. When Shao Qing made no reply, she grumbled under her breath, “What do you know of children anyway?” She was annoyed he kept comparing her to one.
Shao Qing was staring at nothing in the distance, seemingly not up for conversation.
She frowned. Zhi Lan still couldn’t quite figure him out. He refused to give those street urchins money, which marked him as an ungenerous person. Yet he had saved Yao’s life and he was helping her without demanding anything in return. She had threatened him, of course. But halfway through the day as they were walking through crowds, Shao Qing had waited patiently for her to catch up to him. Zhi Lan knew a thief could easily escape from a lone girl unfamiliar with the city.
If she had to describe Shao Qing in a word, it would be impassive. Heartless without being malicious, as if he wasn’t entirely aware of himself. It was very strange. Perhaps he was only excessively bland because he had a handsome face. There was no need for a handsome man to have a pleasant personality. Or he had taken a monk’s vow and sworn off everything worldly and pleasurable, including good conversation.
Zhi Lan shook her head, turning her attention to stacking the empty dishes. She was only here to get Master Dan’s painting back. It hardly mattered whether her guide was a monk, a thief, or simply boring. All he needed to be was true to his word.
So far, he had been.
***
N IGHT FELL QUICKLY and soon the crowd in the tea house dispersed, some retreating to their rented rooms, others finding lodging elsewhere. Zhi Lan opened her money pouch. She had brought a full string of coins with her, but somehow they had all come loose, the knotted cord holding them together untied. Her bag felt lighter too. She narrowed her eyes at Shao Qing, who was a small figure downstairs. He had gone to inquire about available rooms in the tea house. Zhi Lan placed a few coins on their table and went down to join him.
“How many rooms do you require, sir?” the owner, a short man with a sparse mustache, asked. “Any preference for size?”
“One. The cheapest you have.” Shao Qing kept his eyes lowered, perhaps to hide their strange color. Zhi Lan felt a pang of pity for him, wondering if he’d been ostracized for it. But the thought quickly dissipated when she realized what he just said.
The owner raised a derisive eyebrow.
“One?” Zhi Lan hissed under her breath.
Shao Qing glanced over at her. “Do you have money to pay for two?”
“ I’m paying?”
“Seeing as I’m not, yes,” Shao Qing said.
The tea house owner watched this exchange with obvious bewilderment. “Miss, who is this man to you?” he asked.
“Er...he’s my—”
“Husband,” Shao Qing said.
“Right,” Zhi Lan said weakly.
The owner shot him a dirty look. “You make your wife pay your expenses? Do you even deserve to call yourself a man?”
“I asked for a room, not a lecture,” Shao Qing said.
The owner shook his head disbelievingly. “Very well, follow me.”
He led them down a back hallway that was dark and cluttered with miscellaneous items. Zhi Lan passed the large, decorative head of a lion costume, wondering if a traveling performance troupe had left it in haste. They descended a narrow flight of stairs, turned a dark corner, and stopped in front of a sliding door. Mold speckled the wooden frame and there were holes poked into the paper screen as if someone had stuck their finger through it to peek inside. In short, it was the seediest room Zhi Lan ever had the displeasure of paying for.
She handed the owner the money with a clink, though he seemed reluctant to accept the coins. He took his leave with a bow, shooting one last glare at Shao Qing before he disappeared into the shadowy hall.
Zhi Lan peered into her pouch. “We only have two meals left to eat after this so I hope we conclude this business before dinner tomorrow.”
“We only have two more paid meals,” Shao Qing corrected.
She began to reprimand him, but she pressed her lips together. She was in the presence of a thief.
Shao Qing slid the door open. It creaked terribly, revealing a small chamber with a shallow alcove bed with white curtains and a rickety table and stool, upon which a melted candle stump sat. It was barely larger than a closet.
“Lovely,” Zhi Lan said grouchily.
She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep last night. Clearly she wouldn’t be getting one tonight, either.
Then, with some alarm, she realized she would have to spend the night with Shao Qing. Again. The thief in question began to remove his outer robe. After a day of traveling, he smelled even worse, which she didn’t think was possible. A mixture of sweat and dirt and man. Zhi Lan pinched her nostrils closed.
There was hardly any floor space to lay down comfortably. And the floorboards were badly stained with mold and some other sticky substance Zhi Lan didn’t care to identify. She couldn’t make him take the floor with good conscience, but...
Before she could voice her dilemma, Shao Qing sat and stretched his legs over the bed. Zhi Lan looked on awkwardly, clutching her bag to her chest.
They had slept in the same room just the other night. But she hadn’t been entirely at his mercy, like she was now.
“I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.
“I’m not worried,” Zhi Lan said quickly.
Shao Qing tipped his head to the inside of the bed.
“Why the inside?” she said suspiciously.
“So I can better protect us if there’s an intruder.”
Zhi Lan suddenly remembered Shao Qing was a wanted criminal. “Do you think the constables will come after you?” she asked faintly.
“Unlikely. Magistrate Bu is terrible at finding thieves.”
This was news to her. “But isn’t that his job?”
Shao Qing rearranged the bedding. “If he were good at it, Yao would’ve long been imprisoned.”
Zhi Lan shifted uncomfortably. Magistrate Bu was turning out to be a very different sort of man than she expected. At first, she’d been happy that he had become their patron. Magistrates were supposed to be fair and just—intelligent men with good morals who upheld the same values in the populace. Zhi Lan had been sure that they would be safe and secure under him. Little did she know that Magistrate Bu wasn’t very fair, nor apparently was he very intelligent.
“Are you going to sleep standing there?” Shao Qing said.
With a deep breath, Zhi Lan set her things on the table, then awkwardly climbed over Shao Qing’s legs into the hard bed, not bothering to remove her outer robe. The more barriers between them, the better.
The sheets smelled like mildew.
Shao Qing laid himself down and closed his eyes. Zhi Lan pushed away her uneasiness as she did the same, making sure to wedge herself into the furthest corner of the alcove. But even then, she was all too aware of the male presence to her left. Skies, what would Ma and Ba think of her, traipsing around with a criminal and sharing a bed with him?
Her desperation to save Master Dan and her future was truly unmatched.
Zhi Lan turned on her side and covered her nose with her sleeve. The unpleasant smells were keeping her from the lull of sleep. She considered confronting Shao Qing about her missing coins. In their current positions, it would be odd pillow talk, but she needed to know—she had intended to send some of her monthly allowance back home, but now there wouldn’t be enough. She stole a peek over at him.
Shao Qing’s elegant profile was silhouetted in the dim room, his breaths deep and even. Was he asleep already?
Zhi Lan rolled onto her back and crossed her arms. The only time he could’ve taken the coins was when he’d stolen her pouch. He hadn’t touched her at all since he assisted her over the wall, and she was sure he couldn’t have managed any slight of hand without making contact. Then the urchins had come and...
Zhi Lan’s question died on her lips when she recalled the sound of clinking as Shao Qing had pushed the urchin child away.
And suddenly her opinion of him leaned more favorably.