Jeannie Lin - The Dragon and the Pearl

What did she care what became of Li Tao. Already she was losing her sense of purpose. She needed to concentrate.

Auntie padded hurriedly down the hall, stopping before a set of doors opposite the bed chamber. Even while Li Tao was gone, his foreboding presence lingered.

‘No one is allowed inside the master’s study,’ Auntie told her as she slipped a key into the door.

‘Be quick!’

Li Tao trusted Auntie and no one else. It made her wonder about the true relationship between the two of them.

Auntie pushed the door open, but would not enter. She poked her head inside to search about as if fearing Li Tao might have returned. When she was satisfied, she waved Suyin in.

‘Master remembers where he puts everything,’ Auntie warned before shutting her inside.

The wooden desk was arranged below an aperture in the roof to allow for light. Suyin hurried to the desk and peeled a blank sheet of paper free from the stack and folded it into her sleeve. She hoped he didn’t go so far as to count them. A spare ink stick and brush quickly followed. They would need to return these items to their exact locations. She couldn’t resist a quick scan of the desk, but Li Tao had left no communications in sight.

She turned to go, but curiosity overwhelmed her like an insistent itch. The study was as simple and austere as the rest of the house, the walls were bare. How could Li Tao stand to stare at blank walls day after day? Did he do nothing but plan his battles?

A single cabinet spanned the far wall next to a shelf of books. There had to be something inside that would give her a hint of who Li Tao was. Even though she would soon be gone, she needed to know.

In case there was some way to use the information, she told herself.

Like Auntie, she looked once more over her shoulder, searching the corners of the room with unreasonable caution. She imagined Li Tao sitting alone in the dark at his desk with a single lamp burning beside him.

Be assured of your success and you cannot fail. Madame from the pleasure quarters used to say that. Suyin said it to herself now.

She pulled on the handle and found the cabinet unlocked. The oiled hinges swung wide to reveal a set of identical daggers to the one in the box. The blades were crafted from blackened steel and they fanned out against the inner wall in a grand display. She held her breath as she counted them. There were fifteen.

By the next morning, Suyin feared that Auntie would worry her fingers to the bone with how often she wrung them together. Suyin sat her down and poured the tea for both of them.

‘Auntie does not look well,’ she suggested mildly.

‘The lady is kind, but Auntie is fine—’

‘Perhaps Auntie should stay in bed for the day,’ she interrupted pointedly. ‘Let someone else tend to the governor.’

Li Tao would hear Auntie’s nervous rambling and know immediately that something was out of place. Suyin’s plan was already in motion and all she had to do was wait. Hopefully Auntie’s ability to present a good face would strengthen with time.

Auntie spilled her tea over the table when a knock sounded on the door. Suyin left Auntie to answer it herself.

Jun stood in the hallway, averting his eyes from her face. Her heart went out to the boy when she saw how he tried to hide his withered arm, angling his left side away.

‘Master Li wishes to see you. He is in the garden,’ Jun said shyly.

She breathed with relief. They would be outside in full view of the servants. After the way Li Tao had threatened her, she couldn’t risk being trapped alone with him. Auntie stood back in the sitting area, her forehead creased in a nest of lines. This was how honest people reacted to deception. She gave Auntie a reassuring nod before stepping outside.

Jun fell into step behind her. He was tall with the lanky awkwardness of youth. From what she could see, Li Tao provided for his servants, yet Jun retained a lean wiriness that came from a childhood of scarcity. She had seen it in her village and in the streets of Luoyang.

‘How long have you served the governor?’ she asked.

She strained to hear his mumbled answer.

‘Eight years, Lady Ling.’

Li Tao presented a confusing picture. He was an efficient military governor. His men were disciplined and loyal, and he was known for promoting men through the ranks based on skill rather than social standing, much like the August Emperor. Yet the warlord surrounded himself with such an incongruous crew of servants.

‘Where did you live before?’ she asked to distract herself as they descended the stairs to the second courtyard.

‘At a monastery … an orphanage,’ Jun corrected himself. ‘Auntie asked for Master Li to take me in.’

‘That was generous of him.’ So he was capable of kindness. He also seemed to be obliging and respectful of Auntie.

Jun stopped abruptly at the edge of the courtyard. ‘Lady Ling?’

‘Yes?’

He bowed his head. ‘You are very beautiful.’

Despite her jaded nature, his sincerity warmed her. This unassuming boy, innocent and hopeful, expected nothing in return for his flattery.

‘Thank you for your kind words, Master Jun,’ she said with a smile.

He blushed furiously at that and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the walk to the garden.

They emerged through the circled archway and her attention centred on to Li Tao. He stood beneath the shade of the cedarwood pavilion. Stood rather than sat. He never paced, never made any unnecessary movements. He turned and studied her as she approached. His feral side was held in restraint; at least she hoped so. Her pulse quickened.

‘Lady Ling.’

He invited her to sit with an outstretched hand, but she stopped short of the pavilion and refused to come any closer. Jun stood by her side, looking confused.

‘It is difficult to be gracious when you held a knife to me the last time we met.’

Li Tao’s steely expression transformed into a frown. He dismissed Jun with a wave of his hand and the boy backed away, kneeling to some task behind the shrubbery.

‘I frightened you,’ Li Tao said. ‘I apologise. Please sit.’

His façade of civility didn’t reassure her. She ascended the wooden steps into the pavilion and noticed the faint shadow over his jaw as she glanced up at him. He looked unkempt, as if he’d just come from the road. She moved past him to take her seat on the stone bench.

It wasn’t only fear that caused her heart to race. His nearness stirred her blood, urging her to tempt fate. That made him more dangerous than Gao and all of the other interlopers who had ever plotted against her. When he seated himself across the table, she was grateful for the barrier between them.

‘Ru Shan is away,’ he said. ‘I will need to assign another guardsman to your care.’

She smoothed out her sleeves and folded her hands together on the surface of the table, using the casual gesture to mask her nervousness. She knew exactly why Ru Shan was away. He had used the ruse of visiting his ailing father.

‘Are you afraid I’ll escape, Governor Li? I would lose myself in this bamboo sea before I found the road.’

‘You shouldn’t be left alone. Not after what happened.’

What happened? ‘I wasn’t in any danger from anyone besides you.’

He didn’t answer for a long stretch; she was afraid she’d been too bold.

‘Accept a peace offering, then,’ he said finally.

He lifted a bundle wrapped in canvas on to the table. She stared at him in surprise as he beckoned for her to open it. Theirs was the oddest of acquaintances. She couldn’t decipher what Li Tao was to her. Adversary, protector, companion. Madman.

Perhaps she was mad as well. Why else would she be tempted to accept the tainted protection he offered? She could hide away in the cover of the bamboo forest.