The Brocade Prince | A. Y. Chao #2
With a grunt, he flew backwards; following close, she grabbed the scroll, spin-kicked him in the back, and sent him crashing into the nearby scholar stone.
The impact shifted the stone in its wooden stand.
It listed towards the desk; an ominous crunching accompanied its slow topple.
If it fell, the noise would be tremendous.
Feifei couldn’t have the Imperial Guards rush in – if she were caught, her family would also be punished.
Shoving the scroll into her robe, she jumped over the groaning stranger and shoved with all her might against the stone, trying to shift it back into position, but to no avail. The huge rock continued its downward trajectory.
“Help me,” Feifei said in a hoarse whisper, pitching her voice low. “If this falls, the Imperial Guards will swarm the inner courtyard!”
It was too dark to see the stranger’s eyes, but she felt his glare nonetheless and imagined his lip curled in disdain beneath his mask.
“Return what you took, perhaps I’ll consider it.” His voice was deep and gravelly, with elegant diction, tone deceptively gentle. A blade sheathed in finest silk.
Feifei sneered at his over-confidence. “Fine, have it your way.” She stepped away from the stone and it listed even further with a crackle and pop of wood.
Rapid footsteps approached the study from the rear courtyard. In an instant, they both had their backs against the scholar’s stone.
“Yi, er, san,” counted the stranger under his breath.
With a slight creak, the scholar’s stone shifted in the direction they wanted, but not enough.
Whoever was coming drew closer; now fifteen steps from the door.
“One more time,” he whispered.
Feifei used neigong to channel her qi against the stone.
Ten steps before they were discovered.
“Again!” she hissed.
The stranger, realising they were running out of time, slowed his breathing. She felt his qi, an eddying energy swirling through him, as he too used neigong to focus his strength.
—five steps—
“Now,” he whispered.
The wood stand creaked and popped…
—three steps—
… the stone rolled forward, teetering for a moment before settling back into place…
—two steps—
Feifei soared over the screen, thinking its size would easily hide her. Unfortunately, the stranger had the same idea. Wasting no time, he shoved her against the wall, one hand on her throat, the other snaking down the front of her robe.
The scroll was shoved between her breasts in her innermost vest. While her neigong could, for a brief period, repel his roaming fingers and prevent him from discovering anything untoward, if he continued groping, he would soon find more than she wished.
On the one hand, Feifei was scandalised, given all her lessons about womanly virtue; on the other, she knew he was merely trying to recover an item she’d taken from him. She would have done the same, or worse, in his shoes.
—one step from the door—
Feifei was out of space and out of time. The door swung open and she did the only thing she could – danced her fingers over the acupoints on his chest and throat. Too late he realised her intention and grabbed her wrists, inadvertently yanking her against him as the paralysis took hold.
Light spilled into the room. Heavy footsteps crossed the threshold, stopping just inside the door. From the way the man favoured his right foot and the rustle of heavy fabric, Feifei knew it was the magistrate, who had a penchant for silk brocade and a limp from an old horse-riding injury.
All three of them were still, though the stranger had no choice in the matter.
Part of her mind was busy tracking the magistrate’s movements and running through escape scenarios while another was keenly aware of every part of her body pressed against the stranger’s – her thighs, her chest, her forearms.
When sparring and fighting, contact was a given, but it was always fleeting. Never like this, never at length, never with the time and stillness to leisurely examine her quarry.
Or be examined herself.
His skin gave off a faint scent of oud – a nobleman, she’d wager, given the cost of the resin, his diction, and the expensive cut of his robes.
She was surprised to find, tall as she was, he was taller still, with eyes the deep, dark brown of a roasted chestnut.
He watched her closely, impassively, seemingly unbothered by their bodies touching, which made her cheeks flame, embarrassed by her embarrassment.
She was glad her face was hidden behind a mask.
The magistrate drew closer to his desk and stopped by the scholar stone.
If he sees the damage to the stand—
“Guards!” the magistrate shouted.
Feifei didn’t hesitate; with lightning speed, she unsealed the stranger’s meridians and sent man and screen crashing into the magistrate. The sound of hurrying footsteps and the distinctive clinking of armour filled the Front Hall. The Imperial Guards.
She kicked over the lantern, spilling its oil across the floor.
Ducking into the cool darkness of a covered walkway, Feifei leapt to the roof.
She had a clear view of both the study and the walkway from the front courtyard.
The stranger was still grappling with the magistrate as flames licked the floor boards and snaked through the room.
The guards would put out the fire, she reasoned. They were fast and the magistrate’s office was well-equipped for such emergencies. The stranger was more than skilled in martial arts; he would also be fine, so long as he escaped.
The guards were fast approaching. Metal scraped metal – a sword pulled from its scabbard – bringing on an awful feeling, like someone wringing her spine in a bucket of ice-cold water.
The stranger had freed himself from the magistrate and was nearly out the study doors. But he was a step too slow. The guard would skewer him before he managed to plant both feet in the courtyard.
Feifei cursed. What was the youxia to her? She should leave, escape, not risk her freedom and her family’s reputation for a stranger. He’d even groped her! But her indignation was as short-lived as her indecision. He wanted the scroll; didn’t even know about the breasts.
She pulled a small stone from a pocket and blew on it until it glowed with her qi. She flicked it at the guard, waiting just long enough to be sure her aim was true before flying across the roof ridge.
Behind her, a sword clattered to the ground, accompanied by a howl of pain.
* * *
The moon had untangled itself from the clouds, stealing away the darkness Feifei needed to stay hidden.
Against the star-strewn sky, the silhouette of the roof ridges and its guardian beasts were as crisp as a paper-cutting.
She cursed her bad luck. To stay within the shadows of the rooftops, she’d have to crouch low.
Her thighs and back would be screaming by the time she made it home, but there was nothing for it.
She gritted her teeth and raced along the roof ridges, her feet silent against the ceramic tiles.
Again, her neck prickled. Behind her came the telltale flutter of legs moving quickly, the swish of silk against air. The stranger was giving chase.
Across the rooftops, two shadows flitted and whirled like drunken butterflies, making their way to the edge of town. Feifei led the stranger to a bamboo forest by an abandoned courtyard mansion, with a derelict tower that kept the mansion’s rooftops hidden from prying eyes.
Feifei sped through the soaring bamboo stalks, stepping from tree to tree until she reached the heart of the grove. She whirled midair, landing lightly on a nearby branch. Seeing she was no longer running, the stranger did the same, swaying gently among the leaves.
“I seek only the scroll you took from me; return it and I shall leave,” he said.
Feifei raised her hands in zuoyi, left hand wrapped around her right fist, raised right thumb visible. “Since I saved your life, I accept the scroll in payment.”
The stranger raised his own hands in zuoyi and offered her a short, sharp bow. The leaves rustled as if they were laughing. “A mountain of gratitude for this saved life.” Each move ment of the zuoyi greeting was made with ritual precision. Correct and respectful. However, his tone was anything but.
Feifei was no stranger to ridicule. She was a woman after all, meant to be confined to the home, fettered by the ‘three obediences’ which required her to obey, in all things, first her father, then her husband, and finally her son.
But she was also her mother’s daughter, educated in turn by Hsiao Niang, a woman so adept at balancing respectability with self-respect that she was lauded by all for her virtue, her obedience, while always doing exactly as she wished.
Rage coursed through her. “Ungrateful scoundrel! You’d have been skewered if not for me.” Feifei launched herself at him.
He feinted retreat, then stepped forward; they ended up mask to mask, standing on the same branch. Expecting his hand down her robe again, she spun away – only for him to use her momentum to spin her full-circle to face him again.
Holding her by the wrists, he leaned close and whispered, “This is my payment for your kindness.”
His voice was gentle, but the sudden knee to Feifei’s groin was not. A strategically placed stuffed pouch absorbed most of the impact, but she played the part, grunting and gasping as she leapt backwards out of reach.
Dropping all pretence of civility, they charged each other with renewed ferocity, leaves whipping them as they tore through the forest canopy to the abandoned mansion’s rooftops.
Their skills were well-matched, his strength mitigated by her speed.
She couldn’t best him, but he couldn’t hold her long enough to retrieve the scroll, either.