She bathed, then summoned her maids and had them put her hair up and dress her in a simple chi poo, the silk a pale lavender trimmed with blue. Then, to perfect the look, she removed all of her bangles and her rings, except his, wearing nothing about her neck. That done she stood before the mirror, examining herself minutely.
Yes. That was the look she wanted. Not sumptuous and sophisticated but plain and almost earthy—like a peasant girl. She had kept even her makeup simple. Smiling she turned from the mirror and went out into the corridor. "Master Nan!" she called, glimpsing the Master of the Inner Chamber at the far end of the corridor.
Nan Ho turned, acknowledging her; then, giving a small bow to the man he had been talking to, he hastened to her, stopping four paces from Fei Yen and bowing low, his eyes averted.
"Master Nan, is my husband back yet?"
Nan Ho kept his head lowered. "He is, my Lady. Twenty minutes ago." "Good," she turned, looking away from him. "Then go to him, Master Nan, and tell him his wife would welcome a few moments of his time."
Nan Ho looked up, surprised, then looked down quickly. "Forgive me, my Lady, but the Prince asked not to be disturbed. He has important work to finish." "He is in his study, then?"
Nan Ho bowed his head slightly. "That is so, my Lady. With his personal secretary, Chang Shih-sen."
"Then you need worry yourself no longer, Nan Ho. I'll go to him myself." ;
"But, my Lady—"
"You are dismissed, Nan Ho."
He bowed very low. "As my Lady wishes."
She watched him go, then turned away, walking quickly toward her husband's study.
In front of the door she hesitated, composing herself, then knocked.
There was a moment's silence, then footsteps. A second later the door opened slightly and Secretary Chang looked out at her.
"My Lady. . ." He bowed, then opened the door wider, stepping back, at the same time looking across at Li Yuan.
"It is your wife, my Lord, the Princess Fei."
Li Yuan stood up behind his desk as Fei Yen entered, his face lighting at the sight of her.
"Fei Yen. I thought you were out riding."
"I—" She hesitated, then crossed the room until only the desk was between them. "The truth is, husband, I could not settle until I had seen you. Master Nan said you had returned . . ."
Li Yuan looked past her at his secretary. "Go now, Shih-sen. We'll finish this later." Then, smiling, he came round the desk and embraced her, lifting her face to kiss her lips. "Your eagerness to see me warms me, my love. I've missed you too."
She let her head rest against his chest a moment, then looked up at him again. "I've missed you, yes, but that isn't why I've interrupted you."
He laughed gently. "You need no reason to interrupt me. You are reason enough in yourself."
She smiled and looked down. "Even so, it wasn't only my eagerness to see you. I have some news."
"News?" He moved her slightly back from him, taking her upper arms gently in his hands, studying her. Then he smiled again. "Well, let us go outside into the garden. We'll sit on the bench seat, side by side, like doves on a perch, and you can tell me your news."
Returning his smile she let herself be led out into the sunlit warmth of the garden. From somewhere near at hand a songbird called, then called again. They sat, facing each other on the sun-warmed bench.
"You look beautiful, my love" he said, admiring her. "I don't know what you've done, but it suits you." He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, caressing the bare, unadorned flesh of her neck. "But come, my love, what news is this you have?" '
For a second or two her eyes searched his, as if for prior knowledge of what she was about to say; but he, poor boy, suspected nothing. "What would you say if I told you I had fallen?"
He laughed, then shook his head, puzzled. "Fallen?"
She smiled, then reached out, taking his hands in her own. "Yes, my wise and yet foolish husband. Fallen. The doctors confirmed it this very morning." She saw how his eyes widened with sudden comprehension and she laughed, nodding her head. "Yes, my love. That's right. We're going to have a child."
IT WAS LATE afternoon and the Officers Club at Bremen was almost empty. A few men stood between the pillars on the far side of the vast, hexagonal lounge, talking idly; only one of the tables was occupied.
A Han servant, his shaved head bowed, made his way across the huge expanse of green-blue carpet to the table, a heavily laden tray carried effortlessly in one hand. And as he moved between the men, scrupulously avoiding touching or even brushing against them as he put down their drinks, he affected not to hear their mocking laughter or the substance of their talk.
One of them, a tall mustached man named Scott, leaned forward, laughing, then stubbed out his cigar in one of the empty glasses.
"It's the talk of the Above," he said, leaning back and looking about him at his fellow officers. Then, more dryly. "What's more, they're already placing bets on who'll succeed the old bugger as Minister."
Their laughter spilled out across the empty space, making the Han working behind the bar look up before they averted their eyes again.
They were talking of Minister Chuang's marriage earlier that day. The old man had cast off his first wife and taken a new one—a young girl of only fourteen. It was this last that Scott had been rather salaciously referring to.
"Well, good luck to the man, I say," an officer named Panshin said, raising his glass in a toast. Again there was laughter. Only when it had died down did Hans Ebert sit forward slightly and begin to talk. He had been quieter than usual, preferring for once to sit and listen rather than be the focus of their talk; but now all eyes looked to him.
"It's a sad story," he began, looking down. "And if I'd had an inkling of how it would turn out I would never have got involved."
There was a murmur of sympathy at that, an exchange of glances and a nodding of heads.
"Yes, well—there's a lesson to us all, neh?" he continued, looking about him, meeting their eyes candidly. "The woman was clearly deranged long before I came across her."
For once there was no attempt to derive a second meaning from his words. All of them realized the significance of what had happened. An affair was one thing, but this was different. Events had got out of hand and the woman had overstepped the mark when she had attacked Ebert.
"No," Ebert went on. "It saddens me to say so, but I do believe Madam Chuang would have ended in the sanatorium whether I'd crossed her path or not. As for her husband, I'm sure he's much better off with his nan-fang," he smiled, looking to Scott, "even if the girl kills him from sheer pleasure."
There were smiles at that but no laughter. Even so, their mood was suddenly lighter. The matter had been there, unstated, behind all their earlier talk, dampening their spirits. But now it was said and they all felt easier for it.
"No one blames you, Hans," Panshin said, leaning forward to touch his arm. "As you say, it would have happened anyway. It was just bad luck that you got involved." "That's so," Ebert said, lifting his shot glass to his lips and downing its contents in one sharp, savage gulp. "And there are consolations. The mui tsai for one."
Fest leaned forward, leering, his speech slurred. "Does that mean you've cooled toward the other one, Hans?" He laughed suggestively. "You know. The young chink whore . . . Golden Heart."
Fest was not known for his discretion at the best of times, but this once his words had clearly offended Ebert. He sat there, glaring at Fest. "That's my business," he said coldly. "Don't you agree?"
Fest's smile faded. He sat back, shaking his head, suddenly more sober. "Forgive me, Hans, I didn't mean . . ." He fell silent, bowing his head.