She walked more than a few strides in silence.
“I think I did it,” she finally said.
Chen Yong halted and turned to her, his features hard, his eyes dark like a stranger’s. “You mean you don’t know? Were you possessed as well?”
“No. I don’t believe so.”
“He was going to give me my father’s letters. Now I can never speak with Master Tan again—the only man who knew him.”
Tears welled in Ai Ling’s eyes.
“I can try and speak to him.” She stared down at her exposed legs, her trousers in tatters.
Chen Yong shook his head, his mouth pressed in a hard line.
They arrived at the Tan manor just as three servants rushed out the main gate with a litter.
“Go get your things. Hurry,” Chen Yong said as he turned away from her.
Ai Ling entered the bedchamber she’d slept in the previous night. The bed was made and the silk drapes drawn back. She braided her hair with trembling fingers, picked up her knapsack and hurried back to the front gate. Chen Yong was waiting for her.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“The nearest inn.” They returned to an inn they’d passed twice while looping back and forth in search of the Tan manor the previous day. The building stood tall and narrow, with wide windows on each floor and a sloping red-tiled roof. Chen Yong swept aside the dark blue cloth covering the doorway, and she followed him.
The bottom floor was a tavern. Small and intimate, the room consisted of a few bamboo tables and chairs, the far side dominated by a long bar. The barkeep flicked a look toward his new patrons. His head was completely shaved except for a thick topknot of three braids that fell past his shoulders.
Chen Yong strode toward the barkeep, undeterred by the man’s scowl. “Where is the proprietor? We need a room.”
“Do you now?” He cast a knowing glance from Chen Yong to Ai Ling. “I don’t think you’ll get much wear out of her, sir.” The man snorted, his stare meandering from her tattered tunic to the ripped trousers.
“What’re you doing? Why are we here?” She colored at the barkeep’s innuendo but lifted her chin despite her embarrassment.
The barkeep propped both elbows on the bar, listening intently.
“You need to clean up and rest,” Chen Yong said. It sounded more like a command than a concerned suggestion.
“We should go.” She did need rest, but she didn’t want to take it here.
“I’ll leave. You can stay,” he said.
Ai Ling felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you mean?”
“It was a mistake to ask you to accompany me to Master Tan’s. We should go our separate ways.” He spoke without looking at her.
The numbness remained. Good. She willed her features to stay composed.
“Get her a room.” Chen Yong threw two gold coins on the bamboo counter. They clinked and rolled in opposite directions before the barkeep’s large palms stopped them both.
“Oh. She’ll get the best in the house at that price,” the barkeep said, grinning widely at them.
“I don’t need your alms,” Ai Ling said, her heart thudding in her ears.
Chen Yong turned without saying another word. He shoved the dark blue cloth aside and vanished.
He meant nothing to her. A stranger she’d barely known for one day. And obviously she meant nothing to him.
“How long can I stay with that much?” Ai Ling nodded at the two gold coins.
The barkeep rubbed his hands together. “At least a week, miss. In our best room.”
Ai Ling plucked one coin from the counter. “I won’t be staying that long. Have someone draw me a hot bath. The hotter the better.”
The man opened his mouth to argue, but her hard-edged glare stopped him short.
“Right. I’ll get someone to do that. And show you to your room.”
A boy not older than ten years ran into the tavern after the barkeep hollered his name twice. “Bao Er, show the miss to our best room. And tell the kitchen to start a hot bath.”
“A bath!” The boy’s head bobbed with excitement. Baths were rare, it appeared.
“You heard me.”
“Yes, sir! This way, miss.”
Ai Ling walked behind Bao Er, following him up steep wooden steps to the second floor, then up another flight to the top floor. She pressed her hands against the uneven walls of the staircase, feeling the onslaught of wooziness and exhaustion she had suppressed earlier. The boy skipped down the hallway, scratching the top of his head, his queue wagging like a donkey’s tail behind him. He stopped at a wide door at the end of the cramped passage. He flung it open with a flourish. “Our best room, miss.”
Ai Ling entered with caution. The best room was big enough to hold a narrow bed pushed against the wall, a black wooden table set under a window, a washstand, and a chipped cobalt basin. She ran a finger along the window ledge. It came away clean. The window offered a view of the alley below, as well as a skyline of colorful tiled roofs with expansive blue skies above them.
“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 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 flew 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.
7
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?”
“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.