12 – Shao Qing
S hao Qing never once regretted bargaining with the demon. Whether it was because he no longer possessed the ability to care, or because he truly was content with his state, he didn’t know. There were the drawbacks, of course, but he tolerated them well enough. He didn’t have a strong desire to taste food or see color. He was satisfied with his peace. And when the stillness grew to be too much, he did something reckless.
Yet he felt something akin to regret during the journey back to Zhu City.
It wasn’t because Magistrate Li’s dragon painting hadn’t been his soul. Finding it had become a game to him—a sport he never took seriously.
It was the way Zhi Lan treated him after she knew about his condition.
They continued on in their wet clothes, drawing odd looks from passersby. The noon sun dried their outer garments, and by late afternoon, they were presentable enough to ask for help.
A kind old farmer had taken them through the city gate on his mule-drawn cart. Their forged papers had gotten damp, but they were luckily still legible.
“Where are you youngsters off to?” the farmer asked cheerily from his seat at the front.
Zhi Lan didn’t speak as Shao Qing expected, so the response fell to him.
“To the magistrate’s,” he said.
“Indeed? Well, expect it to be a long wait. I hear Magistrate Bu isn’t seeing any petitioners until he finds a thief.”
Shao Qing absorbed this information. He had almost forgotten he was a wanted man.
The farmer looked over his shoulder curiously. “What injustice has fallen upon you, if I may ask?”
Shao Qing kept his gaze downcast. Zhi Lan sat beside him, her face pale, looking small and withdrawn. She hardly seemed aware of the conversation they were having—an odd change to her usual animated self.
“A family matter. My wife prefers not to speak of it.” Shao Qing put an arm around Zhi Lan’s shoulders to get a reaction out of her, but she only stiffened slightly.
“I see,” the farmer said, seemingly disappointed by the lack of gossip. “All the best to you. You are lucky to have each other, at least.”
When the farmer stopped to procure sustenance for himself and his mule, Shao Qing slipped a couple of pork buns from a nearby vendor. He gave one of them to Zhi Lan. She took it and ate without even scolding him for stealing
As the journey continued, she seemed to forget Shao Qing was there at all. She would reach for her bag, then startle when he gave it to her, like he was nothing but a ghostly presence. Shao Qing usually didn’t mind being ignored. Avoiding perception was a good thing for a thief, but this discomfited him. It was as if Zhi Lan had decided he was less than human without his soul. That he was no longer worthy of acknowledgement.
The closer they got to Magistrate Bu’s manor, the more acute his discomfort. If he were capable of more emotion, he was sure Zhi Lan’s disregard would feel like a stab in the chest.
Finally when the white afternoon sun yielded to a gray dusk, the farmer dropped them off before Magistrate Bu’s manor. Shao Qing stood, stretching his legs.
Towering beside the residence was the yamen , the place where the magistrate held court, solved disputes between citizens, and brought criminals to justice. The sweeping tiled eaves loomed over them ominously. Shao Qing had avoided stepping foot in its shadow for his entire criminal career.
A crowd gathered outside the gates now. An irritated man was ringing the bell outside repeatedly to request entrance, the loud peals clanging through the street.
Zhi Lan raised her voice to thank the old farmer—the first words she had said to him all day. He seemed surprised that she could speak after all, and heartily wished them luck as he drove his mule cart down the road.
Eventually, a guard stepped out from the yamen and barked a few sharp words. The crowd of disgruntled petitioners dispersed, moaning and complaining.
“Maybe he’ll see us tomorrow,” a man said hopefully.
“Bah. Not if the magistrate doesn’t find that godforsaken thief. A thief, bold enough to steal from right under his nose! A man such as that would surely be out of the empire by now.”
“What are common folk like us supposed to do but wait? We can only hope his lordship will oblige us soon.”
The crowd washed over Shao Qing and Zhi Lan like a river past rocks, until the two of them were the only ones left in the street. When it was relatively quiet again, he turned to her, wanting to see her even as the sun waned and cast ashy shadows over her features.
“For what it’s worth,” Shao Qing said shortly. “I’m sorry.”
Zhi Lan met his gaze with her piercing one. Her dark eyes glittered, deep and dangerous with mysterious intent. Shao Qing was suddenly drowning in them, unable to look away.
“I have decided,” she said.
“You have decided...what?”
“That I’m going to find your soul.”
Shao Qing blinked slowly, confused. Not this again. Why was she so adamant about finding his soul? “Worry about yourself. I don’t want your help.”
She scowled. “You may not want my help, but you need my help.” She hugged her elbows, as if bracing herself for her next words. “And I owe you a debt. You inadvertently saved me, a few days ago. Magistrate Bu was making...unseemly advances and I prayed for a distraction. Then you came. It must have been divine intervention.”
“It was not my intention to help you. You’re only—”
“Don’t bother telling me how stupid or foolish I am! I won’t believe a single terrible thing you say to me. And I don’t believe that you are terrible yourself. You didn’t have to accompany me to Yun City, but you did.”
He felt compelled to deny this. “You threatened me by calling the guards.”
“You could have easily escaped during the night or any time during our journey,” she countered, lifting her chin stubbornly. “And you gave those urchins my money. That’s right. I noticed. There’s something worth saving in that miserable body of yours. So, listen well. If I make it out of that manor alive, the first thing I’m doing is hunting down your unfeeling soul. You can stop your thieving and ridiculous antics and start preparing to face whatever lies in your heart. You can try and run, but I will find you, Shao Qing, thief and scoundrel. Even if I’m a ghost by tomorrow I will find you.”
Zhi Lan grabbed his hand, her fingers small but insistent. Shao Qing’s chest tightened inexplicably at the contact. She pressed Su Su’s damp red pouch into his palm, then spun around and marched to the front gate.
Shao Qing watched her go, her robes white against the growing shadows. Only when he turned to leave did he realize that the gray of the evening had become a soft, purplish blue.