She was grateful when Lao Pan emerged from his house. He walked stiffly and carried her dagger nestled in his two outstretched palms. He presented the weapon to her.
“I’ve imbued it with the most powerful chants of protection. It has also been bathed in an elixir to make it truly harmful to the undead. Any evil creature of this world can be hurt by it.” He bowed his head, and she did the same, feeling that it was appropriate in this moment.
She took the dagger and examined it. Her features reflected from its silver surface, warped. The stones glittered in the sunlight, and the end of the dagger looked even more honed at its dangerous point.
“Thank you, Lao Pan—”
The thin seer raised a hand before she could continue. “You owe me your tale when it is fully told. It’s unusual for a girl your age to carry such a dangerous weapon, but from what you have told me, from what the lunar sticks would not tell, my efforts will not go to waste.”
Lao Pan clasped her shoulder, surprising her with his familiarity. “Take good care, Ai Ling.”
“I’ll send word to Master Tan when I return home with my father.”
“I’m certain it will be a most interesting journey,” Lao Pan said.
The seer and Rui saw them to the cave entrance. Ai Ling dashed through the tiger’s gaping maw, past the fountain in two giant leaps. Chen Yong laughed, and she looked back at him, pursing her lips into a pout before she realized it.
“You’d do the same if the venom had hit your cheek,” she said.
“It looks like you’ve learned your lesson.” He smiled at her, ignoring her sharp glance.
Li Rong chuckled, and Lao Pan shook his head in amusement. “You weren’t the first curious victim, Ai Ling. Nor will you be the last,” he said.
Lao Pan and Rui waved farewell as they started down the path. The daylight provided a breathtaking vista of the terraced fields they had passed. Feng whinnied after he kicked a large rock over the edge, sending it tumbling. Ai Ling would be relieved when they walked on flat ground again.
10
Lao Pan’s cave was at least two hours’ walk behind them, when a shrill scream sent Ai Ling’s heart into her throat. Chen Yong ran toward the noise; Li Rong followed with Ai Ling behind, astride the horse.
Four bodies lay in pools of blood next to an ornate overturned sedan. A richly attired woman struggled with a man swathed in dark blue, who ripped at the jewels on her throat. The assailant turned glittering eyes toward them, the only feature revealed behind the hood pulled over his head. He took one look and bolted.
Chen Yong sprinted after him, only to be stopped midstride by a breathless protest from the woman. “Please, no! Let him go. No more bloodshed.”
She swooned, and Chen Yong turned back and offered his arm to steady her. The lady sobbed, her face ashen. But somehow she remained alluring. Her rouged cheeks and black eyeliner did not smear. Her dainty rose-colored lips quivered prettily. Ai Ling suddenly felt very plain and dirty next to this woman, elegant even in her distress. She dismounted and stood next to Feng, stroking his neck.
“You came just in time,” the woman said. Li Rong stepped forward and gallantly offered her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, holding the fabric gracefully in one ivory hand.
“He ambushed my attendants, then dragged me out of the sedan . . .” She paused dramatically as tears continued to stream down her face.
Ai Ling frowned. She remembered watching a similar scene in a play staged a few years back, only the distressed maiden wasn’t so pretty, as she was played by a man.
“Are they . . . dead?” The lady swayed toward Chen Yong.
Li Rong approached the men, bent down, and searched for a pulse. Ai Ling sensed no life in them. Dark blood seeped through their tunics; her stomach turned at the cloying scent.
“They were so loyal. They would never have run and left me alone with that villain.” She knelt trembling in the dusty road next to the bodies.
Chen Yong put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, lady, that you suffered through this, and that your attendants lost their lives. Can we escort you to the next town at least?”
She stood, looking ashen still. “I am Lady Zhou. I was headed to the city of Dai Ting to visit family.”
“We were also stopping there. We should reach it tomorrow by foot. If you don’t mind walking,” Chen Yong said.
And would they tote her in the sedan like her attendants if she did mind? Ai Ling tried to suppress her irritation and jealousy. Must Chen Yong be so chivalrous? She was annoyed with everyone, but most especially herself.
Li Rong stepped forward in greeting, one palm pressed to his heart. “I am Li Rong, at your call, lovely lady.”
Ai Ling contained her snort but could not stop her eyes from rolling.
Chen Yong looked embarrassed and introduced himself, and she followed suit.
“I would be so grateful to have you as escorts. A woman can’t travel alone safely these days.” Her gaze lingered on Ai Ling with that statement. Ai Ling raised her chin and looked down at her, drawing her shoulders back so she stood even taller.
Li Rong and Chen Yong righted the overturned sedan so Lady Zhou could retrieve her belongings. She pulled out a pink satin purse.
The brothers moved the bodies to the side of the road.
“We’ll tell officials when we arrive in Dai Ting,” Chen Yong said, “so they can retrieve the bodies for their families.”
They bowed their heads, and Chen Yong led them in a short prayer. They decided to continue on, to reach the town as soon as possible.
“You’ve had such a shock, Lady Zhou. I’m sure Ai Ling wouldn’t mind if I offered you my horse,” Li Rong said.
Dung of a diseased turtle! Ai Ling tried to smooth the scowl off her face. She nodded imperceptibly and handed the reins to Li Rong.
“Oh, thank you so much,” Lady Zhou breathed, still a little winded from her ordeal.
Li Rong offered an arm to help her onto Feng. But she had some trouble, falling into a close embrace with him on the first try. She blushed deeply, which made her prettier somehow. Ai Ling never felt pretty when she blushed. She always imagined her head turning into a bulbous red radish—the kind Taro liked to dig up and chew.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been on a horse,” Lady Zhou said.
Neither had she, but she didn’t fall into anyone’s arms trying to mount the beast. Ai Ling chided herself for these thoughts. How could she be so petty and mean?
But Feng did not appear to like Lady Zhou. The horse nickered and pranced, making it difficult for the woman to sit comfortably. Li Rong tried to placate him, to no avail. Feng’s nostrils flared, and he continued his jittery dance, tossing his head.
“I’m distressed and making the horse nervous,” Lady Zhou said. “Perhaps it’s better if I walked, as long as you offered an arm?” Li Rong was back by her side before a cock could crow.
Ai Ling approached Feng with one hand outstretched and stroked his velvet neck just as he liked. The horse became calm and still, allowing her to climb onto his back. A part of her felt a smug satisfaction. At least Feng wasn’t swayed by any pretty thing that sauntered by.
They walked until the sun faded behind the mountains. Li Rong strolled beside Lady Zhou, regaling her with funny anecdotes and silly jests. Her laughter tinkled through the warm air. Ai Ling pursed her lips. She and Chen Yong followed behind the merry couple, Chen Yong leading the horse by the reins.
They made camp that night against the hillside. Ai Ling’s thighs and rear were sore from riding, but she was grateful she hadn’t had to walk the entire way. She shared a sparse meal with the brothers. Lady Zhou had no appetite. She prepared for sleep. Chen Yong had already retired, while Lady Zhou and Li Rong sat near the fire, their amused faces lit by the flames. Each strand of Lady Zhou’s ebony hair stayed in place. Ai Ling touched her own hair, most of which had escaped from her one braid, making a sweaty halo around her head.