My Fair Concubine

by Jeannie Lin

  Fei Long sighed, wiping a hand over his brow. ‘I most humbly apologise to you, Li Bai Shen, for any unkind words or consequences I caused you to suffer.’

  ‘Ah, very well said. Thank you, my lord.’ Instead of coming in, Bai Shen grinned and turned to go, lifting his hand in farewell. He strode down the lane as if the day were his. ‘Come see my next performance at the Pear Blossom Gardens and bring that charming attendant of yours. I’m playing the Monkey King.’

  His voice faded with the distance. Fei Long watched him until Bai Shen disappeared around the corner.

  Old Man Liang greeted him in the courtyard. ‘Is it true, son?’

  Fei Long nodded, a bit embarrassed by the overt pride in the steward’s eyes.

  ‘Ha, well done! Well done.’ Liang patted his shoulder. ‘Everyone went to see you,’ he explained, seeing how Fei Long scanned the courtyard from corner to corner. ‘Huibin said he was going to place a wager, but I told him you wouldn’t like that.’

  He only listened vaguely to the old man’s report while he searched the courtyard for Yan Ling. The two women had disappeared completely into the recesses of the house. They’d probably gone inside to change out of their disguises. He loosened the scarf from around his neck and used it to dry his face. Perhaps he should wash up a bit as well before speaking to her.

  He had to do it quickly. In mere days, the ambassador and an escort of court-appointed attendants would come to take Yan Ling away. The first part of the plan was to get her to agree to stay, the next part he had yet to figure out.

  Doubt besieged him. She’d already refused him once before. Had the situation changed enough for her to reconsider?

  He would have to face the wrath of the imperial court when there was no princess to send to Khitan. The family name would be scarred. Minister Cao, who had been their benefactor all these years, would shun them.

  Fei Long was prepared to endure all of it. There were worse things than losing face. He’d decided this when Yan Ling had put him in his place back in the park. Saving face was only important for protecting the people he cared for. What use was honor, when he would live for ever in regret? If he let her go to Khitan, he would save face, but he would lose hope.

  This was one time where couldn’t fulfil his duty to the Emperor. He had no right to sacrifice Yan Ling. He’d never had the right. He’d only made every effort to convince himself that he did. She would be a princess, he’d told her. No longer a lowly tea girl with tables to clean and customers to please. And she’d believed him. Yan Ling had listened and absorbed every lesson he’d fed her. If that wasn’t an abuse of privilege, he didn’t know what was.

  Could she accept him now, with all the hardship and uncertainty that lay ahead? More importantly, would he be worthy of her when his name and honour were gone?

  * * *

  Yan Ling waited in the garden of the local temple with Dao beside her. The arrangement was a tranquil one with a pond at the centre and a small grove of peach trees. Lady Min had chosen the location for the simple beauty of its garden.

  ‘Don’t lose focus,’ Dao warned her. The girl had resumed her role as a stern-faced chaperone as soon as they’d returned from the match.

  ‘I am focused,’ Yan Ling promised.

  She focused on how Fei Long had looked when he’d wrapped his arms around her. For a brief moment, the boundaries between them had disappeared. He’d held her in daylight, without fear, as if she were precious. As if she belonged to him.

  ‘I know I have to go soon,’ Yan Ling said, agitated. ‘Can’t you let me dream just a little until then?’

  ‘Dreams are dangerous. They make you forget what’s real.’

  Khitan wasn’t real, Yan Ling insisted stubbornly. Changan was real. Fei Long was real. Even Dao with her disapproving scowl was more real than the Khitan barbarian she was supposed to marry.

  ‘I’ll miss you, Dao.’

  Dao made an impatient noise, but she relented. ‘I’ll miss you, too.’

  ‘Write me letters, all right? Make those imperial messengers ride all the way across the steppes to deliver them.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Fei Long had taught her so much and so had Dao. This was her only way to repay them. Maybe it was being in the temple that made her so reflective.

  Fei Long hadn’t asked her to stay with him again, and even if he did, Dao was right. She would be a servant or a favoured concubine at best. She would have done so happily—until Fei Long took a wife. Then she would be relegated to the far corner of the house to be forgotten, her spirit crushed.

  Better for everyone that she fulfilled her purpose in the peace marriage. Still, she hoped Fei Long would miss her for a long, long time. No, she didn’t want him to find happiness elsewhere. She hoped to become a wound in his heart that wouldn’t heal.

  ‘Yan!’ Dao reprimanded.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You looked so malicious right then. This is a Buddhist temple, you know.’

  They hushed as a nun in plain grey robes, head shaven, stepped out into the garden. She shuffled toward them in her sandals, then stopped, pressing her hands together and bowing from the waist. ‘Greetings, my ladies.’

  Dao blinked twice, her eyes opening wide. ‘Lady Min?’

  Min bowed again, but this time her smile was unmistakable. ‘I’m so happy you came. Miss Yan Ling, you’re so pretty now!’ the once lady, now nun, exclaimed. She hugged them both and led them to a mat set out before the statue of Guanyin. ‘So what is this about an archery match? Tell me everything!’

  Dao took over the tale, speaking in a hushed, yet excited tone. Lady Min listened with childlike interest, laughing aloud when Dao described the final shot that would certainly become legend. Several grim-faced nuns walked by on the garden path and regarded them sternly before continuing on.

  ‘I’m too loud still, but I’m learning,’ Min said.

  Yan Ling was certain Dao had brought her to the temple to keep her away from the house and away from Fei Long, but now that she was here, she was glad. Lady Min had been the first friend she’d made in the city, though it had been a short acquaintance.

  ‘At first I couldn’t stop touching my head,’ Min chattered on, as if starved for conversation. ‘Once I asked for a mirror and everyone stared at me. I thought I would be sent home that very moment, but the abbess is very tolerant. She looks at me very tolerantly every time she sees me. I do sometimes look into that fish pond over there just to check my reflection,’ she confessed.

  They laughed together, hands held to their mouths to muffle the sound. Min looked content and Yan Ling was certain she still laughed every day. They said their farewells and Min again broke formalities to hug each of them. ‘Come visit me again.’

  ‘I’ll actually be leaving soon.’ Sadness hooked around her heart as she said it. ‘To Khitan.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, yes…like Pearl.’

  Not like Pearl. Pearl had escaped with the man she loved. But Yan Ling was much more practical, as Fei Long had pointed out.

  She should have run away with him that morning in the park, even if they had only made it to the ward gates before Fei Long came to his senses and insist they turn around. It would have been nice to be recklessly free for one small moment. She could remember that Fei Long had felt that impassioned once, with her.

  Yan Ling squeezed the bridge of her nose to keep from tearing up. If Dao asked about her sorrowful look, she’d explain it away as the sadness of Lady Min’s departure, though Yan Ling had hardly known the lady long enough to weep for her.

  * * *

  That night’s dinner was a feast. They couldn’t celebrate Fei Long’s triumph with the rest of the city, but Old Man Liang purchased a roast pig from the butcher and the kitchen servants had been hard at work as soon as they returned. Everyone was drunk on their master’s victory.

  The entire household gathered in the banquet room for the meal. The panel doors were thrown open and additional

  tables and chairs w
ere assembled in the courtyard so the feast could include everyone in the mansion. The tables were then loaded with plates of vegetables and platters of whole fried fish. Steamed buns were piled high to form a pyramid and you couldn’t extend your arm without encountering a flask of wine. Everyone ate and talked and ate. It truly was a family in every way but blood.

  Yan Ling tried to put on a good face. She took a morsel off every platter, but she could only pick listlessly at the meal. Fei Long sat at the head of the table and each man tried to get him to drink with them. Even the stable boy tried to ply him with wine, to everyone’s amusement. As usual, Fei Long endured the taunts and enjoyed his tea.

  Despite the laughter all around him, he barely broke a smile. He met her eyes once across the table and his look appeared weighted with thought, but she couldn’t read anything deeper from it. Her keen ability to identify Fei Long’s subtle moods failed her at this most critical time.

  Midway through the meal, she gave up and stopped forcing herself to smile and laugh. It was impossible to speak to Fei Long alone. Everyone wanted his attention tonight. She’d heard the same story from ten different viewpoints about how Fei Long had won the match.

  She sipped at a cup of wine and her face went hot, as she’d expected. Maybe she was hoping Fei Long would comment about it as he’d done after the play. Everything she did was a line, cast out into the ocean, trying to reach out to him from across the crowded room. All of her efforts failed.

  Finally, she bid farewell to everyone. She was tired, she said. The day had been a long one. No one looked twice as she slipped away. Instead of returning to her chamber, Yan Ling went to the beloved study. It was dark inside and she moved about the room, lighting the lanterns. With all of them glowing, the study almost appeared the way she knew it—by the light of the afternoon sun as the day slowly waned.

  She looked to the empty place where her writing desk once stood and her spirit shattered. The desk had been moved against the wall in the corner. She had been cast aside as well.

  Yan Ling went behind Fei Long’s desk and ran her hand along the intricate carvings along the back of his chair. There was a worn spot over the arm where his elbow rested. She sat down and touched her fingers to the smooth, bared wood.

  Something had been bothering her for a while. The last time she’d been in Fei Long’s study at night, it had been so dark she could barely see. They had needed to forge papers to get through the ward gates. When she had fumbled through Fei Long’s desk to search for the jade seal, she’d found something else as well. They had been so worried about Fei Long that night that she didn’t have time to investigate.

  She pulled the drawer open now, almost afraid of what she would find. More afraid of what she wouldn’t find.

  The stack of papers was near the top. They’d been shoved haplessly inside, which she wouldn’t have expected of Fei Long. Holding her breath, she dug the papers out and laid them onto the desk. Her fingers shook as she separated the pages to spread them out.

  It was the same two characters on each page.

  ‘I must have been so obvious.’

  She jumped and her hand flew to her throat. Fei Long stood there in the doorway, his gaze intent on her. Her pulse skipped dangerously.

  ‘I was afraid everyone could sense my inner thoughts. The emotions shouted from inside me.’ He came into the room and shut the door carefully behind him. ‘The more I tried to hide it, the more I was convinced you could see how I felt in every look.’

  Yan Ling stared down at the calligraphy. It was her name. Written over and over in so many different ways.

  ‘There is a balance inherent in the art of writing, of shū.’ His voice was quiet, stroking gently over her skin. ‘Defined rules about how to write each character. Every stroke has its place and position.’

  As he approached, she became aware how their usual situation had been reversed. She was the one who sat and waited as he came near. Yet he continued to instruct her.

  ‘The discipline of it is learning how to express yourself within the confines of form and structure. The brush reveals every nuance, every internal emotion.’ He met her eyes. ‘If a few simple strokes could reveal so much, then how could anyone not sense the depth of feeling for you in every word I spoke, every movement that I made?’

  Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. She struggled to find her voice. ‘I didn’t see. I hoped, but I didn’t dare to dream.’

  She looked to the papers again. He’d trained her in calligraphy to teach her patience and discipline while using the same techniques to try to control his own emotions. He’d buried them deep and only allowed then to show in one place.

  In the forms, she could see the gathered memories of their days together. She could see the hundred different ways he thought of her. The flowing curves of wistfulness, the tight control of denial. It was all there. Anger, hope, longing. Desire.

  ‘I think of you all the time.’ She had to tell him how she felt now, even if nothing came of it. ‘I’ll always think of you. I’ll never forget you, Fei Long.’

  She would have kept on going, pouring out everything inside of her, but Fei Long had moved around the desk. He pulled her to her feet and cradled her face tenderly in both his hands.

  ‘You’re crying.’ His thumb brushed over her cheek, wiping away a tear.

  ‘I don’t mean to.’

  Yan Ling wished she could have been prettier then, not red-faced and swollen, but Fei Long lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips trembled so hard she couldn’t return the kiss, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kissed her again, moving gently over her mouth, his hand beneath her chin to raise her face to him.

  If he had let her speak, Yan Ling would have told him so much more. She loved him. She’d always love him. So she tried to tell him in the way her body curved into him and the soft sigh of her breath mingling with his.

  Her tears had stopped by the time he raised his head. His hands still framed her face. She let her eyes roam over his features to commit every stroke and curve to memory. All she could see was Fei Long: his piercing eyes dark with contemplation and the defined shape of his mouth, sensual in its own way. It was the only time she had allowed herself to take in the sight of him for as long as she wanted, not averting her eyes out of shyness or fear.

  His expression shifted. Nothing more than a ripple of decision that settled in his eyes. His hands released her cheeks and he leaned ever so slightly towards her. The small of her back came up against the edge of the desk.

  Her breathing quickened. ‘Fei Long,’ she whispered and it meant a hundred things. Most importantly, it meant yes.

  He held her with his gaze as he lifted her onto the edge of the desk. Her feet lifted from the floor and for a moment she lost her balance, leaning back too far. Fei Long caught her. One arm moved around to brace itself just behind her and she raised her hands to his shoulders, her fingers digging into lean, hard muscle. She didn’t know what came next, but she wanted it.

  ‘Yan Ling.’ The knot at his throat lifted and lowered.

  His robe brushed against her knees as he pressed even closer, trapping her against the broad frame of his body. She wouldn’t say anything this time. She was too afraid of breaking the moment in its most fragile state. Fei Long lowered his lips to the exposed skin of her throat, kissing her until her skin warmed and tingled. She tilted her head to bare her neck to him, offering him anything he wanted.

  He lowered his hand and fisted it into the material of her skirt. In two efficient tugs, he lifted the silk enough to rest his hand against her bare thigh. But his intention was soon clear. Fei Long took her mouth again as he slipped his hand between her legs. He traced a finger delicately along the intimate fold of her flesh and she jumped. Her heart sped up uncontrollably. She could barely sit still, but Fei Long held her in place, anchored against him. His finger stroked upwards, then down with relentless patience, his fingertip just parting her. She moaned softly. He adjusted the angle of his hand beneath her sk
irt and pressed deeper so that his touch slicked directly over the hidden pearl of her sex.

  Sensation shot up her spine and her body went weak. Her lips parted helplessly in pleasure and he kissed her in her abandon, touching her intimately until she cried out. Her hands clutched at his robe and her legs parted of their own accord in a silent plea. All the while, Fei Long watched her intently.

  She blinked up at him. His breathing had increased, but his expression remained hard and inscrutable. Her eyes glazed over as his fingers tormented her flesh. His touch was a constant now, teasing her relentlessly. If he stopped, she would die. If he didn’t stop—she didn’t know.

  Her head fell back in surrender, but Fei Long was there to catch her. His other arm circled her now with his hand splayed against her back to keep her upright. She closed her eyes, shaking her head in denial, because the sheer torture of this was senseless. He commanded her with nothing but this single, unending caress and it became everything. Cruelly, inexplicably, everything.

  She cried out as her body tightened. Fei Long crushed his mouth to her and she sobbed against his lips. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched as she shook inside and out.

  His touch became gentle on her now. Soothing. But even that was too much. She communicated to him with a small murmur of protest. All speech had left her, but he understood. He removed his hand and soothed her skirts back in place. Then he enclosed her in his arms and squeezed tight, exhaling in one long sigh as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

  When she dared to open her eyes again, she saw the familiar study lit by the warm glow of the lanterns. But everything looked different. Her head was tucked beneath Fei Long’s chin. Her cheek rested against his breastbone. His heartbeat thudded against her ear. His muscles remained coiled and tight.

  Listlessly, she reached for his robe. There was no strength left in her body as she went through the motions of undressing him, but he wasn’t co-operating. He stopped her hand with his own and she looked up at him questioningly. She didn’t know much about coupling or the art of the bedchamber, but she recognised that Fei Long had introduced her to pleasure while denying his own satisfaction.