by Jeannie Lin
“The Yao family is not entirely without honor.” She regarded him pointedly. “And we have nothing to hide.”
She pushed the gate open and stepped into the enclosed courtyard. After a pause, Chen’s footsteps sounded behind her and she breathed with relief. The servants came to greet them, expressing surprise that she was home so early. The head attendant shot her a meaningful glance. Liao had made it home before her, then. He’d warned the others.
“Our honored guest will be staying for dinner,” she said. “Prepare tea for him.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Chen protested.
“But you must be tired from your journey.”
Another objection lingered on his lips. She insisted again, and he finally relented. Such a simple, familiar pattern of etiquette. It was almost a comfort to be distracted in this way.
“Lady Yao.” He must have read something in her gaze. His expression softened. “If the situation had been different—”
She caught a hint of sadness in his deep-set eyes. Their meeting was supposed to be a happy occasion. Ru Shan should have been there to introduce them, as he’d always promised he would.
River wanted to believe Chen was too courteous to be a hardened killer. He had a good face. One that looked sincere. She’d had so many silly, girlish dreams woven around this man and each one opened now and bled.
Chen was supposedly trustworthy and righteous, but his righteousness made him dangerous. He would always adhere to the strict code of fighting men and Ru Shan had broken that code. For sword brothers, one man’s honor was equally shared. One man’s shame, also equally shared. Even she understood that much.
“I’ll go speak to my father,” she said and Chen nodded solemnly.
She assigned one of the servants to take him to the parlor. The moment they disappeared from the courtyard, she hurried to Father’s study. Liao was waiting there, pacing in a small circle behind the desk.
“Master Yao has been told,” the clerk reported.
“Keep my father hidden,” she instructed. “You must get him away tonight.”
“But how? With the governor’s man here...”
She’d invited Chen to dinner with a purpose. Within the walls of their house, she could control what he heard and saw. “I’ll distract the swordsman while you take Father and the others to safety. Stay with him in the south or...or go as you will. You’ve done your duty.”
There wasn’t enough time to change their original plan. Liao would gather horses and wagons. The household would be smuggled away in the night.
“But what about you?” Liao asked.
“I have to stay.”
The loyal clerk shook his head. “My lady, we can delay the swordsman for you.”
She held up her hand to silence him. Wei Chen was a master with the broadsword. Deadly accurate, Ru Shan had boasted. Liao and the servants would be cut to pieces. And even if they did succeed in subduing Chen, they would only bring Governor Li Tao’s wrath on all of them for daring to strike at one of his warriors. She needed to keep him here, where he could be controlled.
“He trusts me.”
“This servant won’t run while the lady stays!”
“You will,” she said so forcefully that Liao fell silent. “Wei Chen won’t hurt me.” She didn’t know that for certain. “I’ll come and find you when it’s safe.” And now she was lying.
The ruthless warlord had sent only one man after her brother. If Chen failed, more men would come, but as long as Chen was alone her family had a chance to escape.
Ru Shan had made his life-or-death choice and dragged them all down with him. This was her own life or death choice. She’d never known she could lie so steadily. Her hands no longer trembled.
“It has to be me,” she said quietly.
Wei Chen had looked at her. The sorrow within him had captured her for a fleeting moment and the unspoken promise hung between them. They were supposed to meet and, if all the stars aligned, perhaps even marry. It was a future that was now forsaken, but it still connected them. She would use that bond to gain his trust. It was the only way to save her brother and her father.
Liao remained hidden in the study while she left to prepare. She spoke to each servant personally to make sure they understood their tasks. Then she retreated to her room.
Her belongings had been packed. They had intended to leave that night. They would escape under the cover of darkness and become fugitives in the shadows. Everything that their family had built over generations was fading away. The mill stood empty. The paper shop would close. She was empty, all hope for a normal life gone.
One robe remained in the cabinet. It was the color of peach blossoms and threaded with gold embroidery. She ran her fingers over the smooth cloth. The delicate garment had no place where they were going and she had meant to leave it behind, but then Wei Chen had appeared to grind all their plans to dust.
She could hold him there. Not forever, but long enough.
She pulled the ebony pins from her hair and let it fall about her shoulders. She knew she wasn’t beautiful in the way of springtime and flowers, but perhaps it wasn’t necessary. Wei Chen had looked at her in the courtyard as if he couldn’t turn away. No man had ever looked at her like that. Maybe it was only anger or regret, but she would use them both if she had to.
Her brother was preparing the rebels for battle in the mountains. She prepared now for battle with jeweled hairpins and perfume. With silk.
She would have to dress without the aid of servants. The entire household was either busy preparing the evening meal or readying for their escape. The embroidered cloth draped sensually over her shoulders. She wrapped the sash about her waist and dabbed a drop of perfume at her throat and wrists. This was how she’d prepare herself for a lover if her life was not yet destroyed.
Her hair took longer. She had to pin it and repin it, with nothing but her own shaking fingers to twist it into place. On a whim, she painted her lips. One look into the brass mirror and she wiped the tint away, horrified.
That sensual, daring creature wasn’t her. Mouth like a scarlet butterfly’s wings. But it was who she needed to be, wasn’t it? Tentatively, she’d stroked more color onto her lips, tracing the edges with the tip of the cosmetic brush. Red as firecrackers and festival lanterns. Her eyes were drawn inevitably to her own reflection. As Chen’s would be. He would look once at her, his gaze piercing and intense, and then he would look away out of propriety. Her pulse quickened at the thought.
River scrubbed her face clean again.
It was an hour before she emerged. The dining room was near the front of the house. She stood just inside and waited for Chen to be brought from the tea parlor. Her palms were damp. Her throat dry. If only she’d been brave enough to keep a touch of rouge. Maddeningly, her lips remained swollen and sensitive from the undue attention. When Chen entered, heat rushed to her cheeks.
He looked at her dress, to the table, then to the door behind him. “Will it be only the two of us?”
The servants drifted in to light the lanterns and set plates upon the table. Father had dismissed most of the servants a week ago, leaving only a few to tend to them before they went into hiding. River spoke when the two of them were once again alone.
“My father is ill with grief. My brother’s shame is our shame, as well.” It was easier to speak if she didn’t look directly at him. Her nervousness worked well here. “He’s taken to bed early tonight with a medicinal tea to help him sleep. I must beg of you not to trouble him until tomorrow.”
“I don’t wish to cause your family any more distress—than necessary,” he added regretfully.
He was telling her in so few words that he would still find and punish Ru Shan. Why then did he insist on being so civil? By Chen’s code, he could only restore his honor if he took her
brother’s life. Honor was not clean or civil. Neither was loyalty, nor love. They all battled one another, tearing mortal wounds, showing no mercy.
She extended her hand in what she hoped was a graceful gesture. “Please sit.”
They sat opposite each other in silence while the servants poured the rice wine. What followed was a feast only seen at weddings and the lunar festival. Pickled vegetables and brined eggs. Four-ingredient soup and five-spice quail.
The kitchen was overreaching. She had only asked them to extend the meal as long as possible.
“Is everything to your liking?” she asked.
“Yes...yes, of course.” Chen shifted uncomfortably as he stared at the feast, but said nothing more. Perhaps he thought her mad, dining so lavishly with her brother’s would-be executioner.
“How long was your journey?”
“Two weeks from Chengdu.”
“You must be tired.”
“Not at all.” Chen folded his hands, watching her intently.
She sipped her wine, already at a loss for conversation. His gaze strayed unmistakably to her mouth, sending a flutter to her stomach. So it wasn’t necessary for her lips to be painted after all.
“I used to imagine what you must look like,” she ventured.
He stiffened. “Oh?”
“I thought you must be tall enough to scrape the ceiling. Arms like tree trunks, the way Ru Shan described you. Frightening.”
Chen managed a small smile. “Your brother certainly could tell a story.”
It became a little easier to breathe. “You’d be covered in scars and missing teeth after all the battles you’ve waged,” she teased.
His laugh resonated through her. Things could have been different, that laughter told her.
“You were wrong about the teeth,” he said. “Unfortunately I can’t do anything for the scars.” Chen ran a hand over the back of his knuckles. A map of lines ran across them as a testament to the battles he’d seen in the warlord’s training grounds and beyond.
She had thought about Wei Chen in the past. In more innocent times, she’d hoped he was handsome. At the very least, she’d hoped they would speak like this and find their temperaments compatible.
It might have been easier if his appearance was as fierce and cruel as she feared. Chen had a high forehead, a strong chin. Proud features. She wished she hadn’t noticed how his eyes lit up when he smiled.
Such fantasies meant nothing now. Soldiers like Chen believed in honor and duty before all else, but she couldn’t put country before family. Ru Shan was her brother. He was the mountain and she was the river. She had to do everything in her power to save him. She searched deep within herself for the strength to carry out this deception.
Another dish was brought out. Chen reached for his wine cup. Boldly, she leaned across the table to pour more, only to spill it when their movements collided.
She fumbled with the flask. “Forgive me.”
Chen steadied her hand with his own. “Forgive me,” he echoed.
Their eyes met and she knew he wasn’t speaking about the wine. Her skin grew hot where he touched her. She twisted free and retreated back to her seat, the clumsiest seductress in the world. Despite the awkwardness of her attempt, she saw how Chen’s eyes grew clouded.
The more she saw of Wei Chen, the more he confused her. He didn’t strike her as a cold-blooded executioner. He was more than the master swordsman her brother described.
“I remember when the governor’s soldiers first came to recruit Ru Shan,” she said. “He was fifteen. He had never even held a sword, let alone knew how to wield one.”
“That was the Spring Rebellion,” Chen said. “It was the first year after Governor Li took this position. Many men were recruited to his service.”
She was supposed to distract Chen from her brother, not remind him, but suddenly she wanted Chen to explain to her how a man could hunt down someone he considered his own blood.
“My brother spoke often about you, but he was always vague about how you met.”
“You don’t want to hear the story. It’s about warfare and battle.”
“I do,” she insisted.
The rebellion was led by the former military governor of the district who had fallen out of favor with the Emperor for one reason or another. Her brother hadn’t protested when he was selected to serve, but none of them had been given much choice.
After a pause, Chen drained his cup. “We marched against the insurgents and cornered the last regiment in the valley of the Sichuan basin. The rebels made one last desperate push and we were cut off from reinforcements. The foot soldiers panicked, but not Ru Shan.”
“But he would have died if not for you.”
The muscles of Chen’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
“My brother told us you were one of the governor’s trained warriors of the Xining. The Rising Guard rode into the center of the fighting and held the rebels back. You saved him.”
“It was only duty,” he said, his voice rough. He reached for his cup, only to realize that it was empty. She poured for him without error this time. She hoped he wouldn’t notice that there were no more servants attending to the meal.
“After the battle, I recommended that Ru Shan be accepted into the Rising Guard,” Chen went on.
“Because he had been ready to die so bravely?”
“Because he had been ready to die,” he concurred somberly.
Now Ru Shan was the rebel and both men were ready to die. The Xining had changed her brother. He’d trained as a warrior. He’d become hard and fearless, but in his soul River had known he wasn’t one of them.
“So after all that has happened, you came for him yourself,” she said quietly.
Chen’s eyes glittered, black and cold. “I asked Governor Li to allow me the chance to bring justice to Ru Shan with my own hand. He’s my burden. My responsibility.”
River could almost understand Chen’s anger. Her brother had betrayed more than just the warlord. She and Father were being forced to go into hiding. Their home was lost and their future upended. Perhaps Chen was right. The last face Ru Shan looked upon should be one he knew and respected. Not the cold, blank stares of assassins or the shame of a public hanging.
The path of her thoughts shocked her. She would never side with her brother’s executioner, but she saw how Chen faced a decision as hard as her own.
“You don’t want to do this,” she said.
“But I must.”
Chen set his cup aside. The rest of the food had gone cold. It seemed neither of them had an appetite.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said formally. “It was good to finally meet you, Yao Ru Jiang, despite the circumstances.”
He spoke her name with care, savoring it. He sounded so sincere that her heart ached.
“It was good to meet you as well, Wei Chen,” she replied.
“With your permission, I’ll come by tomorrow to speak with your father.”
He was leaving.
“Wait.” This was the moment. She had to keep him distracted. If he left the house, there was too much risk that he’d discover the escape. Her throat went dry as she tried to speak. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“There must be some place in town.”
“But it’s late and the way back to town is dark and unsafe.” Her heart pounded so loud it would give her away. “You must stay here. In spite of everything, you and Ru Shan were once brothers.”
Chen looked troubled. “I can’t accept—”
“I insist.” She placed her hand at the crook of his arm in what she hoped was a meaningful and enticing gesture—except she was shaking.
He swallowed with some effort. Her face burned hotter with each moment he regarded her. The a
wkward, awful invitation dangled between them.
“I’m very grateful,” he replied, holding her gaze until she was the first to look away.
CHAPTER THREE
He had to refuse her.
Chen lay in the soft darkness of the chamber, facing the ceiling and looking into nothingness. The bed was heated by coals laid beneath the mattress boards. River had put him in one of the innermost rooms at the far end of the courtyard—the most private and luxurious. Like their dinner together, it was more than he deserved.
It wasn’t possible that she had worn that dress for him. Perhaps the delicate perfume wasn’t meant to lure him, nor the coincidences which had the two of them dining alone. Chen could have been mistaken about her intentions, but if he wasn’t, then he had to refuse her.
There could only be one reason she would come to him tonight, and he didn’t want her that way.
Ru Shan had spoken often to him about growing up in this house with his sister and his father. Chen had asked Ru Shan to tell him about the smallest details. Usually when they were drinking, and Chen could hide his longing behind the wine and the lateness of the hour.
River hadn’t turned him away despite his confession. The family was too humble and too honorable for that. Public before private, the proverb said. Country before family. The family understood that Ru Shan had condemned himself. They must be mourning for Ru Shan the same way Chen mourned. He lay in the quiet house with reminders of his old friend all around him, while regret choked the life from him.
“Defeat me today and I’ll give you my sister in marriage,” Ru Shan had teased once, twirling his sword so it caught the sunlight.
It hadn’t been so long ago, had it?
Between the boasting and the insults, Chen had known what Ru Shan truly wanted. He was proposing that they become brothers in name as well as spirit. He was offering family. Ru Shan owed Chen his life. It was a debt that could never be repaid.
“If she looks like you, it would be a punishment!” Chen had retorted.
Then he had defeated Ru Shan soundly.
