by Jeannie Lin
The plan sounded empty to her own ears. She was like the carp she’d talked about, freed from a vat to remain captive in a larger pond. Odd that she’d planned and plotted for so long and now that her destiny was her own, she was a little lost and dizzy, like a child who’d run in circles for too long.
“Perhaps I’ll run a drinking house of my own one day,” she added.
“Really?” Cheng looked pleased. “My shrewd businesswoman.”
His use of the possessive made her chest squeeze tight. “You’re meant for even bigger things, I’m certain,” she said.
He laughed, a little nervous. “We’ll see how I fare against the exams. The battle wages on for an entire week.”
Her dreams for Cheng were somehow more vivid than her own. He would pass his exams and be given a grand position within the imperial government. At night he’d come to visit her, wherever she was playing, but not as a sponsor or patron. They would be lovers. Friends.
“I may end up on the bridge over Wei River,” he said.
“Don’t say that!” That was a poor joke and she pinched him for it until he winced. Students were known to throw themselves off the bridge in dishonour after being unable to pass. “You’ll be moving into the administrative ward,” she predicted. “Into a huge mansion built for court officials.”
His mouth curved and she grew warm as he looked down at her. “Only if heaven and earth switched places would I qualify for the imperial court,” he said.
He kissed her forehead tenderly and her heart tore, because she knew then that she couldn’t allow herself to accept his regard. It was nothing more than a casual, passing affection. Impermanent, like everything else within the district. As time went by, she would inevitably start to long for more.
Her earlier dream continued, growing faded with time. He would still come to her, but their discourse would become cordial. Their vibrant fire would slowly go to ash, until one day, Cheng wouldn’t come anymore. She’d wait and wait and then realize that she’d grown old and withered. He’d find some other song girl or courtesan skilled in the arts of pleasing wealthy and distinguished gentlemen.
Cheng continued. “In truth, I hope to return to my province. I’ll take a position within the regional offices. It’s more than a poor family from a farming village could ever hope for.”
She would not let her disappointment show. Even if he were staying in Changan, she’d already decided she’d never see him again, hadn’t she? She couldn’t continue this affair. Not in servitude. That’s all the courtesans and entertainers were. Servants. No matter how much they held the higher ranks in their thrall.
“Your mother will be very honoured,” she said. “And Minister Lo, as well.”
His voice grew quiet. “And you?”
“I’ll tell everyone that I knew a famous magistrate once—”
“Rose.”
It was Cheng scolding her now. She’d made the mistake of sounding too cheerful. Too dismissive. She was already pulling away. She was a practical soul. Hanging on would only leave her devastated.
“Rose,” he said again, gentler this time. He stroked his fingers through her hair. His gaze pinned her and dark fire glinted in his eyes. She knew his next touch wouldn’t be a tender kiss on her forehead. There would be more. Much, much more.
Her heart thundered and her breath grew shallow. Could she turn him away now? Or if she just let him—if she just let both of them have this last moment, would it be easier to go away afterward? She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her hands into the corded muscle of his arms. Pull him closer or push him away? She didn’t know. His weight pressed over her, securing her beneath him, and her body answered for her, turning to liquid silver and heat.
A pounding at the door made them both jump.
Cheng shot to his feet. Jia clutched a hand to the front of her robe. Both of them stared at the door. The pounding came again. With a creak of wood, the door flew open and three armed men strode into the chamber. The insignia on their armour marked them as Golden Eagle guards, as did the swords at their sides. The officer in charge directed two fingers toward Cheng.
“Take him.”
“What is this?” Cheng demanded.
The two guardsmen stepped forward only to be shoved back roughly by Cheng. He wore only his trousers, but even disrobed he loomed large and powerful. The guards reached for their weapons and Jia gasped. Only then did the guardsmen pay her any notice.
She fumbled with the sash at her waist as one of the guardsmen came at her. By the time he reached her, she’d managed to close her robe despite her trembling fingers. The young guardsman cast her a warning look and stretched out an arm to keep her back.
Cheng was still arguing with the officer. Her cronies had told of how he’d fought them and she was afraid Cheng would do that now. The Eagle guards patrolled the city. They were the enforcers of Changan and had the authority to imprison and punish.
“He’s an imperial scholar,” Jia cried out. “Here to take the exams.”
The officer looked to Cheng and then to her. In that one glance, he dismissed her as an insignificant singsong girl, but at least he addressed Cheng with an extra grain of respect.
“You’re to come with us,” he told Cheng. “You’ve been accused of theft.”
Her blood grew cold. The book of poems. Guo had somehow discovered them.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Cheng shot her a look, urging her to stay silent. He snatched his robe from the floor and shoved one arm then the other into it. The two guardsmen secured him by each arm once he was dressed.
The exams. The exams were this morning and Cheng was being arrested.
“Cheng.” She reached for him as they dragged him toward the door. She had to do something.
Cheng tried to remain composed. “Get Minister Lo.”
She nodded mutely. Cheng kept his gaze fixed on her as long as he could before the guards shoved him past.
* * *
Jia tried. She tried with every breath inside her to get to Minister Lo.
The administrative district was at the north end of the city. Jia left the ward and hurried to the main avenue that cut through the centre of Changan. She managed to hire a sedan, not wasting any time to haggle over the fare. The markets would open within the hour and the streets were already filling with traffic. They’d only pushed past five wards before the gong sounded five times. The Dragon Hour.
Helplessness sank in. She gripped the edge of the carriage window and tried to breathe past the tightness in her chest. Her eyes stung. The next chime would sound the Hour of the Snake. The examination hall doors would swing shut.
Even if she could fly. Even if she could reach the administrative gates before the next double-hour, she had no way to locate Cheng’s benefactor. There were thousands of officials within the district. Offices and sub-offices. She knew nothing about Changan outside the confines of her own pond.
Her stomach dropped and her nails bit into the wood frame of the sedan. This was not sentiment, she insisted. This was anger. She expected such misfortune to fall on her, but Cheng didn’t deserve to be punished. He was a simple scholar who did nothing but sit in his room and study all night, hoping to bring honour to his family. He’d helped her when she’d been nothing to him.
The carriage rolled on and they passed another ward, moving like a winter river clogged with ice. Jia chewed her bottom lip in frustration. Even now she wasn’t being fair to Cheng. He wasn’t simple. He was good. Luo Cheng didn’t have a selfish act in him.
Cheng had looked at her so tenderly in the still hours of the morning. Whispering her name... No, not her name. She hadn’t even been true to him in that sense. He’d embraced her, called her beautiful, made her laugh. Made love to her. In return, she’d had him robbed and beaten and now he was in prison. There was nothing go
od or pure about her.
She knocked frantically on the side of the sedan. “Turn around.” She had to shout in order for the driver to hear her. “Quickly!”
Jia pulled the silk pouch from her belt. The paper note crinkled inside. She took it out and unfolded it in her palm. Paper felt so insignificant compared to bronze. Flying money, they called it, as if it would flutter away and disappear.
Looking at the inscription nearly did bring her to tears, but sentiment had no place in the North Hamlet. She’d allowed herself to indulge for one night instead of going directly to the troupe master, and look what had happened! She’d had plans. She was going to be free of all her debts and worries.
But Cheng had dreams and plans, as well. A dream that was about to be taken away. She didn’t know if she could go on, feeling so ruined inside for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER FIVE
The door opened to his holding cell. The stern-faced guardsman at the door gave a brusque nod of his head, which Cheng supposed meant he was free to go. Or it could mean that he was to be led outside for a public beating.
He was surprised to see Rose waiting for him outside the head wardsman’s office instead of Minister Lo. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and watched anxiously while they removed the chains from his wrists. Despite the mess of the situation, his chest puffed out at seeing Rose flustered over him.
As soon as he was free, she grabbed on to his hand. “Hurry!”
They ran from the building with Rose dragging him along with the force of a tiny storm. Vendors and pedestrians veered aside in her wake. Her robe whipped behind her like the tail of a kite. She was a wonder to behold.
“Wait, how did you get them to release me?” he asked when she stopped at a busy intersection.
“Your landlord claimed he saw you leaving the room.” Rose stood on her toes, trying to peer through the crowd. “But that fool Guo didn’t have any real evidence against you.”
They were off again, swerving around carts, ducking through alleys. The morning air rushed by his ears. His muscles were on fire and his blood pumped in a fierce rhythm that propelled them ever forward. The imperial exams loomed ahead, the minutes waning away, yet all he knew was that Rose’s hand was clutched around his. Nothing could stop them.
Soon the examination hall stood ahead. Rose flew up the steps. Even with his longer stride, he could barely hold on. He swore she wanted him to pass more than he did. Near the top, she finally stopped and swung around.
“Here.”
She pulled out his scholar’s cap from her pack and tried to smooth out the black cloth with her fingers. He bent so she could place it on his head. Her cheeks were tinged with pink and she was breathless from the wild run through the streets.
“Something’s not right,” he said.
“I know. It’s crooked.” Rose fussed over the headdress, trying to straighten it and arrange the tassels of cloth that fell down his back. Every muscle within her remained tense. Her expression was guarded.
“How did you even get in to see the head of the ward?” Cheng asked.
She wouldn’t look at him. Instead she fumbled within the bag. “I told you that I know every official in the district.”
He realized then what had happened. He reached for her, his voice thick with emotion. “Rose.”
She thrust the writing box into his hands. “Go inside before you’re late.”
“Rose, you bribed them to release me.”
The gong rang through the ward, starting the count for the hour. Another student ran into them, head down, book still open in his hands. Rose smiled as the young man apologized and redirected himself around them. She was still smiling when she finally met his eyes. It was a weak attempt to hide the sadness.
“Go,” she commanded. Even her commands had lost their sharpness. She brushed her hands briefly over the front of his robe in a show of smoothing out the wrinkles there. “You’re going to be late.”
His hands tightened over his writing case. If he could get hold of her, he’d never let go.
The gong had sounded four times. Cheng had no choice but to go into the examination hall. He looked back once to see Rose looking after him. Her hands were twined anxiously together. Her wide eyes were full of fear and hope.
The gong sounded again and it was time to find his place.
* * *
The examinations went on for over three days. Jia passed by the examination hall at least once on each of those days, though she knew it was completely senseless. Cheng was locked inside, writing commentaries on the five classics and the great poets. She refused to call her behaviour sentimental. It was just curiosity, that was all.
At the end of the week when the scholars gathered at the head of the turtle sculpture to hear the lists of names, she stood at the far end of the plaza, within the shadow of an alleyway. Cheng stood taller than the rest. She could only see him in profile, but she could make out the tilt of his head as he waited with anticipation.
The first rankings were read aloud. Luo Cheng wasn’t among them. She dug her nails so hard into her palms they nearly drew blood. The second ranking was read next. She strained to hear each name as the crier announced them one by one from his scroll. When she heard his name, she nearly shouted with joy. She wanted to run to him, but it wouldn’t have been proper.
His colleagues gathered around to congratulate him. Then the next names were being read and everyone hushed with attention. Cheng’s shoulders lifted with pride now as he listened to the rest of the rankings. Watching him filled her with joy.
She’d fallen in love. The realization took her breath away. Just the sight of Luo Cheng flooded her with yearning. His happiness had become her happiness.
He turned his head then, inexplicably glancing over his shoulder. Jia ducked farther into the alley, her face burning. Her heart beat fearfully and panic set in. She was too far away for him to have possibly seen her, anyway. It would be too awkward if they met.
She retreated from the plaza to return to the far reaches of the North Hamlet to bury her pain. Cheng had an illustrious future ahead of him now. She was just one of the hundreds of entertainers in the imperial capital, playing the same collection of melodies, reciting the same poems. Another tragic song girl who’d fallen in love with a man above her station.
Over the next days, her routine returned to its familiar pattern. The troupe played at several celebration banquets for those who had passed the exams with high marks. She was hoarding coins again, saving toward paying back her ever-present, ever-growing debt.
The floating world shifted around her as it did every year. She passed by Cheng’s apartment and learned that he had moved out. A new student would eventually rent out that room. The cycle would begin again.
She didn’t seek him out before he left. There was no point in doing so. Their time together was precious now, locked in her memory.
In a week’s time, the celebrations had died down and the ward resumed a more restrained level of revelry. The houses were only half full by evening time. The atmosphere became languid, a slow smoulder in comparison to the crackling fire just a week earlier.
One evening, she received an invitation to play at the Lotus Pavilion.
“The Lotus?” She had to ask the troupe leader twice.
He nodded and waved her away as if she were a gnat. The invitation was for her alone. She dressed in her most elegant robe, trying not to think of how it was the same one she’d worn her night with Cheng. The same robe he’d slipped off of her.
With her pipa in hand, she headed toward the pagoda. It stood like a beacon with its hanging lanterns and layered towers. She knew several songs that would allow her to captivate a room all by herself. She rehearsed in her head as she entered the pavilion through the side doors.
The reception hall was b
linding in its opulence, a pink halo of orb lanterns, jade sculptures, wood carvings that spanned four walls. She wandered for a few steps, lost. Fortunately, the hostess intercepted her and directed her to a banquet room at the back of the pavilion.
The entrance was through an interior corridor. She pushed open the door tentatively. The vast banquet hall was empty except for the one man seated at the head of the table. He stood and the air rushed from her.
Everything about Cheng seemed different now. His grey scholar’s robe was replaced with a dark blue brocade. His hair was combed and tied back neatly. He even appeared taller. Or maybe it was that her knees wanted to collapse as he came near. Her heart had stopped beating, she was sure of it.
“Your name isn’t Rose,” he accused lightly.
She thought of a hundred different retorts she could use, but in the end her elation at seeing him again overwhelmed her. “I started to like how you called me that.”
His expression remained inscrutable as he took her in. He had a new detached confidence about him and she yearned for the Cheng she’d known. She no longer knew how to be with him.
“Yang Jia-jing.” He pronounced her name slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “It took me a long time to find you.”
He’d been searching for her. She warmed at the thought.
Sentiment again. She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t careful. She composed herself. “I saw your name displayed at the examination hall. I’m very happy for you.”
And she was—both happy and sad.
Cheng’s expression softened. “I thought I’d see you after the exams. You knew where to find me.”
She shook her head, unable to answer. All she’d ever brought him was misfortune. He came forward until he stood right before her. She could already see him as an appointed official. He had the stature and bearing for it. She held on to the pipa as a last barrier between them.
He reached into his robe and pulled out an envelope. “I have something for you.”
