Authors: Cindy. Pon
Silver Phoenix (16 page)
“Thank you, Bao Er.” Ai Ling gave the boy a small copper coin. He broke into a toothy grin.
“Thanks! I’ll go tell them about your bath.”
Bao Er tore from her room as if his queue was on fire.
She put her knapsack down and sank into the thick blankets on the bed, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her brow on them.
Ai Ling drew a shaky breath, and the room tilted. She staggered to the washbasin and heaved, bringing up bile that burned her throat. Tears mingled with mucus as she retched until her stomach cramped and nothing was left in her. She wiped the back of her hand over her wet face and mouth and dragged it across her torn trousers.
She crawled back onto the bed, laid down her head, and 76
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curled up. She wished Taro was there to snuggle against.
She wished her mother was there to smooth her hair and smile reassuringly, as she always did. But she had none of that now. She was all alone once more.
Ai Ling was awakened by a gentle shaking. “Miss. Miss.”
She opened her eyes to find Bao Er’s face peering down at her. “Miss, there’s someone here to see you. A gentleman.”
Ai Ling’s mind quickly fl ew to Chen Yong.
“Thank you, Bao Er. I’ll be right out.”
She knew she looked wretched, even without a glance in the tarnished round mirror on the wall. She pulled on a faded pink tunic and trousers. She examined the torn clothing; it wasn’t worth mending. She could keep it for spare materials.
On a sudden whim, she climbed onto the wooden table and pulled the lattice panels back. The sun hung directly above her. She stuck out her head and looked below. The alleyway was empty. She bundled the torn clothes into a ball and threw them out the window.
77
Ai Ling climbed down the narrow stairs. She found Bao Er in the tavern standing beside a young man who looked familiar. She didn’t truly believe Chen Yong would return, yet she hadn’t expected a strange male caller, either. He was dressed in a black silk robe. Three silver pearls served as buttons on the stiff collar. Bao Er stared at him, his head tilted, reminding her of sparrows she had sketched.
“Mistress Wen?”
Ai Ling nodded, completely taken off guard.
“I’m Tan Hai Ou. I have a letter for you from my father.”
Her pulse quickened. “Is Fei Ming all right?”
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“My older brother is doing well.” He pulled a scroll from his robe sleeve and began to unfurl it.
“I can read it.”
Hai Ou masked his surprise in an instant and proffered the scroll.
The message was short.
Fei Ming insists that I apologize for my harsh words. He
tells me you saved his life. Please come by at your earliest
convenience.
The letter was signed by Master Tan with his stamp in red below it. She rolled up the scroll.
“Please tell your father I’ll come today.”
Hai Ou bowed and stepped out of the inn. Bao Er had listened to the entire exchange with interest.
“Master Tan has the grandest manor in the city, miss. I hear he has a fish pond with fish this big!” The boy threw his arms out wide.
Ai Ling laughed. “I’ll ask to see it this time and let you know.”
Bao Er beamed up at her. “Do you still want that hot bath you asked for two days ago, miss?”
“Two days ago?” she said, confused.
“You slept through the afternoon and all yesterday. I kept looking in because your bathwater was getting cold.” Bao Er shifted from one foot to the other. “Auntie said I better 79
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wake you when the master came ’cause it might be impor-tant. Also to make sure you weren’t dead.” The boy nodded in earnest.
She’d slept two days away?
“A hot bath would be wonderful. But first, what’s good to eat from the kitchen?”
Bao Er’s face lit up like a festival lantern. “Oh, the braised pork with rice is my favorite. With a tea-stewed egg.”
He dashed back to the kitchen, and Ai Ling settled down at a small bamboo table in anticipation of a much-needed hot meal.
Refreshed from the hot bath and home-cooked meal, Ai Ling stepped out onto the street with renewed energy. It felt strange not to have Chen Yong by her side. She pushed the thought away, chided herself for being so easily dependent. She never truly knew him, even if it felt otherwise.
She found the Tan manor. The red-paper door gods remained, but she noticed new slips of paper plastered on the thick panel—bold characters she did not recognize, written in black calligraphy.
She knocked on the door, and Hai Ou greeted her with a slight bow. He was not as tall as his father, but he held himself in the same dignifi ed manner.
“My father is waiting for you in Fei Ming’s quarters,” he said.
She followed his straight back through the manor, across 80
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a courtyard and past halls she had not entered during her last visit. Hai Ou fi nally stepped inside a reception hall.
Brocaded cushions in a rich emerald rested on four carved chairs with arched backs and curved armrests. Landscape paintings spanned the width of each wall, framed in a delicate celadon silk. Sunlight glinted off the gold accents in the room—an oval vase displaying fragrant red roses, a cinnabar serving tray inlaid with gold designs. The reception room opened into Fei Ming’s bedchamber. The lattice doors were pushed aside, allowing a full view.
“Ai Ling, you’ve returned. We are grateful.” Master Tan stepped across the threshold to take her hand in his. “How’s your health?”
She studied the genteel hands that clasped hers and was too embarrassed to pull away. “I slept for a long while. I’m better. How is Fei Ming?”
“I’m well, thanks to you.” Fei Ming spoke from within his bedchamber. Ai Ling peered past Master Tan’s shoulder and saw the young man smile. Anxiety twisted her stomach. She managed a weak twitch of her mouth.
“Please come in.” Fei Ming indicated a rosewood stool next to his bed.
Ai Ling perched herself on it. Master Tan sat on the other side of the bed in a carved rosewood chair.
Fei Ming looked well. Completely different from the individual who had slouched with his head down, unwilling to meet her gaze when they were first introduced. Completely 81
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different from the man with crazed eyes and guttural voice who had attacked her. His dark, wide-set eyes were clear, the eyebrows above, strong and expressive. She felt foolish for her fear but could not look him in the face.
“I don’t recall much from the other night, but I knew that I was not in full possession of my own mind or body.”
Deep lines etched both sides of Master Tan’s generous mouth as he listened to his son speak.
“I told Father as much and as best as I can remember.
The part that I do know with clarity is when you came and laid your hands on me. I was barely conscious, it hurt to breathe—there wasn’t enough in each breath. But you healed me.”
Ai Ling stared at her hands, not knowing what to say. “It was a strange and awful night. I’m sorry that . . . you were hurt.”
Hurt by me.
Fei Ming smiled at her. “Father, don’t you have something to give to my heroine?”
Ai Ling blanched. This was too awkward, the situation too twisted about.
“Ah, yes. I’ll get it.” Master Tan stepped from the room.
She shifted on the stool, clutched her damp palms together, anxious that she was alone with Fei Ming again.
“Don’t worry. Hai Ou is in the adjacent hall,” Fei Ming said.
Embarrassed that her discomfort was so obvious, she 82
