by Jeannie Lin
“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 is 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 know 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 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 awkward, awful invitation dangled between them.
“I’m very grateful,” he replied, holding her gaze until she was the first to look away.
Chapter 3
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.
That night, Chen had lain awake imagining shining black hair and pale, smooth skin. He’d spoken her name aloud. River. The name itself sounded like a dream. River.
He no longer had to imagine. He knew her face and how she held herself. He knew how utterly beautiful she was in sadness and he knew he’d never be able to see her happy.
Chen’s eyelids grew heavy a moment before the door creaked open. Languidly, perfunctorily, he stretched toward his sword, but there was no danger there. At least not the kind that a sword could defeat.
A tentative hand covered his. Cool, delicate fingers.
“River,” he said.
She sat on the edge of the bed and freed the pin from her hair in one perfect motion. He lay back and watched it fall, afraid to move. His breath came and went in uneven pants. She was here, in his bed as he hoped and feared. He had to refuse her, but he didn’t want to.
“This—” He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “This won’t change anything.”
“That’s not why I came.”
She was dressed in her sleeping garment, a pale tunic over loose trousers, as if she’d already retired to bed before rising to come here. A band of moonlight slanted across the lower part of her face, leaving the rest of her in shadow. He followed every line and curve of her in the dark.
“I can’t spare your brother.”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” she whispered. She came closer. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”
They did share one thing. They both loved Ru Shan as a brother and shared the pain of his betrayal. Did she need to close her eyes and forget as much as he did?
Maybe there was no answer to that. River touched her fingers to his wrist and he went hard beyond reason. He raised himself up and her jasmine perfume surrounded him. By the time he curved his hand over the back of her neck, he was blind with desire.
A small gasp escaped her lips before he crushed his mouth to hers. She was soft. She was soft and warm, and he was being too rough, but she tasted so right.
He pulled away, but couldn’t let her go. The pulse in her throat fluttered beneath his fingers. She regarded him with wide, startled eyes, and in them he saw decision. Resolution.
She reached for his tunic. He reached for hers. He tugged at the linen until her arms were free, her breasts bared. He removed the rest of her clothing, but all he could think of was the soft sloping curve of her breasts. The entire time he reminded himself, be gentle. Be gentle. Be gentle.
He stopped her hand when she reached for his trousers. Instead he laid her back against the bed and stretched himself over her, shoulder to hip, legs intertwined. He needed to press himself against as much of her as he could, breasts, thighs. His yang member strained against the final cloth barrier between them. His mouth scraped hungrily at the base of her throat. There was nothing gentle about it.
River was panting. Her chest rose and fell beneath him. When her arms found their way hesitantly around his neck, his heart opened and bled. Heavens, she was innocent.
He raised his head to look at her. “You’ve never done this.”
It wasn’t a question. He could tell from the way she trembled when he kissed her.
She trailed her hand down his back. “Show me,” she murmured.
He couldn’t refuse her, or himself. Not when his blood was pumping hot through him, and she was looking as if she could only see him before her and nothing else. Not when he hadn’t felt like this, hadn’t felt anything for too long.
He bent and took her nipple between his lips. River stiffened, her entire body arching up. He should have started slower, as untried as she was. Kissed her mouth, her throat. Whispered how beautiful she was. And River was beautiful. He’d tell her a hundred times.
After.
River sobbed with tortured pleasure as Chen’s tongue stroked over her breasts. He circled his arms beneath her to drag her tight to him. She was grateful for his strength. She needed to be held fast or she would come apart.
From the first moment she touched him, she couldn’t hide any longer. She told herself she was deceiving Chen, but she had been deceiving herself as well. Part of her didn’t want to flee and disappear into the far reaches of the empire. Her spirit demanded that she stay and fight her battle here, in this very chamber. She was as rebellious as her brother after all.
