‘This isn’t what you wanted, is it?’ Jin-mei asked Yang beneath her breath.

‘There is no one else I would rather be wedded to,’ he replied without hesitation.

Jin-mei whipped around to face him, causing the pearls in her ears to swing dramatically. ‘You’re trying to be clever with your words. You could very well mean that you have no desire to be married at all—to anyone.’

It was hard not to smile. ‘I think you and I will suit each other quite well, Jin-mei.’

Jin-mei. The sound of her name slid smoothly over his tongue, as if he’d been calling her that for years. Such a pretty name … like the clear chime of bells.

‘It’s a compliment,’ he added, seeing her perplexed expression.

It was the best arrangement Yang had ever made. He had the magistrate’s protection, his silence, and his daughter … Surely it couldn’t be this easy?

AUTHOR NOTE

When I first imagined the world of The Sword Dancer I envisaged a wild land filled with heroes and bandits, with the lines between them completely blurred.

For those who have read The Sword Dancer, I hope you enjoy seeing what happens to Li Feng and Thief-catcher Han. As in all great romances, the rooftop marriage proposal was a beginning rather than an end, and their adventure continues here.

For history buffs: the places and people in this book are part real and part imagined. Fujian province was the seat of several rebellions. Rogue warlords were a plague upon imperial power in the late part of the dynasty. And when you read about the rebel figures that emerged throughout Chinese history many of them made their wealth through the salt trade.

The Linyin Stone Forest is an actual place. The pictures of it are dramatic and awe-inspiring. According to travel sites, it wasn’t explored until centuries later, during the Qing Dynasty, due to the dense growth that obscured it from view.

Perhaps I’ll be able to visit one day, and imagine the colourful bandits who made those hidden caverns their hideout.

Jeannie Lin can be found online via Twitter, Facebook or her website

To be notified when her next book comes out sign up at www.jeannielin.com

A Dance

with Danger

Jeannie Lin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author JEANNIE LIN started writing her first book while working as a high school science teacher in South Central Los Angeles. Her stories are inspired by a mix of historical research and wuxia adventure tales. Jeannie’s groundbreaking historical romances set in Tang Dynasty China have received multiple awards, including the Golden Heart for her debut novel Butterfly Swords.

Thank you to my husband, for putting up with the papers that litter our living room and the all-nighters I had to pull to finish this book.

I blame the twins for the mess, but hubby knows it’s all me.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

AUTHOR NOTE

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Tang Dynasty China—AD 848

‘The mountains are high and the Emperor is far away.’

Bao Yang had always been fond of that particular proverb. It certainly held true in Fujian province where rugged mountains enclosed them to the north, west and south. To the east was the ocean fed by a lattice of streams and rivers. This was a land set apart from the heart of the empire, away from the eyes and ears of imperial authority. This was a land where a person with determination and a little cleverness could carve his own destiny, regardless of his birth.

Even a man with a price on his head.

Yang should have been afraid to return to the city where not long ago he’d tried to have a powerful warlord assassinated, but he had connections. He knew who would turn a blind eye and who could be bribed.

It wasn’t that there was no law in Fujian. Imperially appointed bureaucrats still oversaw the administration of the cities, but it was the merchants who dominated the rivers and ports. The surrounding mountains were inhabited by bandits and smugglers. Wealth and commerce were the forces that truly ruled this province.

He was approaching the city of Minzhou now by river, where there was very likely a warrant out for his arrest for attempted murder. Or at least for someone who looked like him. To his knowledge, his name was still unknown—for now, although he didn’t know for how much longer. His connections had bought him some valuable time.

The fisherman at the crossing was willing to take him down the river for a few copper coins. Yang hid beneath the wide brim of his hat as the tiny boat drifted into the city, joining the fleet of merchant vessels and ferries that fed the bustling markets.

As the fishing boat crossed beneath one of the main bridges, Yang kept his gaze directed forward. There was a guardsman in the lookout tower, but his bow remained slack in his hands as he scanned the water. The arrows rested soundly in their quiver.

‘The city guards have been wary of strangers lately,’ the fisherman said as he dragged a long pole along the river bottom, propelling them forward. ‘It’s best that you find your friend quickly and seek shelter before curfew so you aren’t hassled by the night watch.’

‘Is the city unsafe?’

‘There was some unrest a while back. Bandits, I hear.’

‘Thank you, Uncle.’

Three months had passed since he’d broken out of Minzhou’s prison house along with his co-conspirators. It was dangerous to return now, but not as much as one might think. Any thief-catchers searching for him would expect him to be in hiding. It was the regions to the north where there was price on his head. The regions that General Wang Shizhen had taken over with his army.

The fisherman steered clear of the busier docks to set Yang ashore at the edge of the market. From there, he moved quickly to a more secluded part of the city, slipping into a public park. A small stream ran through it, branching off from the main river. The walkways appeared empty and the broad canopy of the banyan trees provided cover.

Moving quickly, Yang set about tracking down his associate. He’d built up a wide network of associates over the years of which this particular official was the most powerful. If there was ever a time Yang needed to rely on calling in favours, it was now. He’d been working in the shadows before, seeding disruption and rebellion, but now this was war.

Yang needed the city magistrate’s allegiance which was going to require some craftiness on his part. Magistrate Tan was, after all, the same man who was responsible for throwing him into prison in the first place.

* * *

Jin-mei dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief and adjusted the angle of her parasol to block the sun. As they neared the height of summer, there were fewer people enjoying the park in the midday heat, but her daily stroll along the river was one of the few opportunities she had to escape the house.

She had set out with her amah, but the old nursemaid only made it ten steps into the park before she sank down on to one of the benches in a viewing pavilion.

‘Don’t go too far!’ Amah warned, waving her on.

The woman had been considered elderly when Jin-mei was only a child. Now that Jin-mei was nineteen, Amah was ancient and could be forgiven for not wanting to exert herself. The dear old servant had also become less strict with age.

Jin-mei was wearing the lightest robe she owned, a finely woven silk in a peach-blossom pattern, but still the late summer heat was getting to her. She wiped at her face again, this time using the edge of her sleeve. When she lowered her arm, she could see a man crossing the bridge over to her side of the river. Given the man was a stranger and she was alone, Jin-mei slowed her step so they would have no reason to encounter one another.

Unfortunately, he’d seen her as well. He halted at the centre of the bridge before striding towards her with purpose. She should have ducked beneath the shadow of her parasol to avoid his gaze, but she found herself caught in it. Now that he was close enough, she understood why.

Her heart pounded. She knew him.

Most of her father’s visitors were grey-haired and uninteresting, but the young Bao Yang had seemed so dashing and full of mystery. He had a gleam in his eye and a half-smile that had always made her stomach flutter. That had been four years ago.

She’d only seen him from behind a screen while listening in on conversations she wasn’t supposed to be hearing. There was the one time when she’d attempted to stumble ‘accidentally’ into the hallway. She had fallen in hopes that Mister Bao might catch her and, well, become immediately smitten with her. Instead, her father had sternly told her to go to her room while the handsome young gentleman had watched her pick herself off the floor.

How odd to see him after all these years! She remembered that arch in the shape of his left eyebrow which gave him an inquisitive look. His nose was slightly off centre and she’d always wondered if it had been broken or was it naturally so. All of these little flaws, yet when put together, they created a face that was inexplicably intriguing. She had been convinced he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen.

Jin-mei wasn’t nearly as foolish now, but seeing Yang again brought back a little ache in her chest. That gleam in his eye was still there, even though they were supposed to be only strangers in passing.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked when they were finally close enough to engage in conversation.

He gave her a startled look at being addressed so directly. Only then did she realise how impetuous she had sounded. ‘I apologise. It’s just that I—’

Yang laughed and the easy sound of it banished her moment of discomfort. ‘It is I who should apologise. I must have startled you. I am here to seek the magistrate.’

He didn’t recognise her. Some demon inside of her awoke at the opportunity. Here was a chance for her to make an impression on him. A more favourable one than she had at fifteen, picking herself off the floor in a tangle of silk.

‘I know where the magistrate can be found,’ she said.

‘Then I am fortunate fate has brought us together.’

‘Are you flirting with me?’ she asked incredulously. She realised only after the words had left her mouth that such directness would be considered rude. ‘Sir,’ she added after a pause.

His smile didn’t waver. ‘Miss,’ he began, a counterpoint to her delayed honorific, ‘are you always so outspoken?’

‘It’s just that I know you. Well, I don’t know you,’ she amended, ‘but I feel as if I do.’

‘I feel as if I know you as well,’ he replied smoothly. He glanced at something over his shoulder, before returning his attention to her. ‘Will you accompany me?’

He flashed her a crooked smile and then they were walking side by side along the river, shielded by the shade of her parasol.

Bao Yang was flirting. No man had ever treated her with such charm. Her mother had been slender and tall and long-limbed, as graceful as a willow in the breeze. Unfortunately, Jin-mei took after her father’s side. Father was short with rounded features, moon-faced and on the plump side.

She was no great beauty to take hold of men’s hearts upon a glance. Jin-mei hadn’t expected any man to ever flirt with her. In her dreams, she had always impressed potential suitors with intelligent conversation and astute sensibilities.

‘What is a proper young miss doing walking alone in this park?’ he asked. ‘There might be questionable men about with evil intentions.’

‘What men are these? I see no one but yourself.’ She attempted a coy look, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. An uncomfortable silence descended as Bao Yang regarded her thoughtfully. She was no good at this at all. Her original plan would have to suffice. ‘Minzhou is probably the safest city in the province. There are guards on every street, patrolling day and night.’

‘Every street,’ he echoed contemplatively.

They had almost reached the final bridge that marked the boundary of the park. Once they crossed over it, they would be in the main market area. Jin-mei tried to think of some way to prolong their time together.

‘How was your journey?’ she asked. ‘You seem to have come from far away.’

‘Not far at all.’ Yang glanced once more behind him and then to other side of the river. ‘I live in a small village, only two days from here.’

‘Small village?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded. ‘Héjin Crossing, near the foothills.’

She absolutely knew that for a lie. Bao Yang lived far to the north-west in Taining County, the same place her family had lived before Father was transferred to Minzhou prefecture. She started to question him about it, but his step had quickened. He continued along the water towards the base of the bridge rather than over it.

‘How curious,’ he remarked under his breath. ‘Is that a dragon carved into the stone?’

‘Where?’ She drew closer, but saw nothing of the sort in the foundation.

He turned to her and took her wrist gently. The gesture sent her pulse racing.

‘Let us get out of the sun where we can speak more privately,’ he suggested, setting his hand lightly against the small of her back.

As courtship went, his ploy wasn’t particularly clever, but Bao Yang’s touch was subtly insistent without being demanding. There was a quiet urgency in his voice that both puzzled and intrigued her. In her confusion, they were already to the bridge before she found her voice.

‘I am not that sort of woman.’

‘I don’t think you’re that sort of woman.’ He was serious now, no longer flirting. Bao Yang removed his hold on her to step into the shadows. ‘But there are city guards nearby. If you cry out now, I’m dead. You hold my life in your hands.’

How had he compelled her down there? It was nothing more than a few looks, some polite conversation, a series of light and gentle touches that just breached the boundaries of etiquette, but went no further.

Yang was standing apart from her now, well out of arm’s length. She could flee and he wouldn’t be able to catch her. For a moment, she did consider fleeing. This man before her was someone who was hiding secrets. Someone very different from the gentleman she thought she’d known all those years ago.

Yet he met her eyes with a look that pierced her, pleading with her silently, as if she were the one with all the power. Jin-mei didn’t know why, but she found herself stepping after him beneath the bridge.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

Once again, his hands barely closed around her shoulders. Her heart pounded, and she held her breath, waiting. It was as if she were moving of her own will and his touch no more than a suggestion.

Lowering her parasol, she looked up at him. ‘Why are you hiding?’

He lifted a hand to quiet her, head tilted to listen for sounds from above. She had never been so close to a man who wasn’t family. The front of his robe brushed against hers. Even with the dim light beneath the bridge, she could make out the hard line of his jaw. The air was cooler in the shade of the bridge and the two of them were closed off as if cocooned in their own private sanctuary.

‘I shouldn’t do this,’ he began, sending her pulse racing with just the mere suggestion of the forbidden, ‘but I must ask a favour of you.’

‘Yes.’

She’d spoken too quickly. Yang smiled at her, his eyebrow lifting in wonder. ‘You’re quite fearless, aren’t you?’

Jin-mei could hardly breathe with him so close, looking at her as though—looking at her in a way no one ever had.

‘I’m not.’ Not usually. There was something about his manner that made her reckless. She ran her tongue over her lips nervously. ‘I wasn’t entirely truthful before. I do know exactly who you are.’

His charming expression faltered. ‘I’d certainly remember if we’d met.’

‘It was years ago, Mister Bao.’

He appeared startled at her use of his name, but before he could reply a loud voice boomed in from the world outside.

‘What are you two doing?’

Jin-mei jumped, but Yang steadied her with his hands over her shoulders. Though she was breathing hard, he appeared speculative. He kept his gaze on her, meeting her eyes while he addressed the guardsman behind him. ‘My lady companion was feeling faint in the heat.’

‘Get out from there immediately.’

The silence was cut by the sound of a sword being drawn and then another and then another.

What was happening? She didn’t know when the trembling started, but now it wouldn’t stop. In a panic, she grabbed on to his arm. An unreadable look flickered across Yang’s face. Calmly, he let go of her and stepped out from beneath the bridge. She ducked out just behind him to see them surrounded by what looked like the entire city garrison. A familiar figure in a dark green robe stood among them, his jaw clenched in fury. Her stomach plummeted and her palms started to sweat.

‘Magistrate Tan,’ Yang greeted, surprisingly composed among so many armed men.

Jin-mei bowed her head, her cheeks burning. ‘Father.’

At that, Yang turned slowly around to look at her, a deep frown creasing his brow. Having men draw swords on him didn’t shake him, but apparently what she had said struck him speechless.

Chapter Two

An hour later, Yang was relocated to a private room at a local drinking house while the armed guards were sent away, tasked with returning the magistrate’s daughter home. For the moment he was left alone and he tried to use the opportunity to prepare some sort of explanation for being caught in a compromising position with Tan Li Kuo’s daughter.

Jin-mei, Tan had called her. The name was fitting. Clear like the ring of a morning bell. Audacious and impulsive Jin-mei, with her elegant phoenix eyes and her delightfully inelegant way of saying whatever was on her mind. Was it any wonder Yang had been thoroughly charmed?

She wasn’t innocent as much as she was without guile. Even the flush in her cheeks and the colour of her lips had been real, not painted on with rouge or gloss. Fresh-faced and quick-tongued. For someone accustomed to trickery, Jin-mei’s openness had bemused and bewitched him.

Maybe he had forgotten himself just a little in the park. He had a weakness for fascinating characters. Not just lovely, adventurous women, but for people in general. He’d been accused at one time of collecting people. Of keeping them handy for whenever they suited his purposes.

Yang straightened as Magistrate Tan entered the room. The other man closed the door behind him before seating himself across the table.

‘I didn’t know the young lady was your daughter.’

The steely-eyed look Tan shot him told Yang their long-time association was hanging by a thread. He wondered how many of the five punishments the magistrate considered exacting upon him at that moment.

Instead of slicing into him, Tan opted to pour the wine, though with a grave silence that was far from friendly. Tan Li Kuo was short in stature, with a sagging middle and a round moon-faced appearance that gave the impression of youth and ineptitude. As far as Yang could tell, Tan usually played down to that image.

Tan wasn’t playing any games at the present time. Yang swallowed and ran his hands over his knees as he searched for a way to salvage the situation. ‘About what happened—’

Ignoring him, Tan reached for his wine. Taken aback, Yang raised his cup as well and drank. At least they were trying to remain civil. The civility lasted only for a heartbeat.

‘What exactly were you doing with my daughter?’ Tan demanded sharply.

‘I was actually on my way to see you.’

The magistrate raised his eyebrows at that.

‘But there were guards about and I needed to remain hidden.’

‘So you lured Jin-mei into a dark and secluded area?’

Yang winced. ‘It was just the madness of the moment. Nothing happened, I assure you.’

Tan’s expression darkened at his feeble explanation. The truth was simple. Yang was a fugitive and Jin-mei had seen him. Coaxing her into hiding was preferable to either dragging her forcibly beneath the bridge so she couldn’t alert the guards, or fleeing for his life through the city. He doubted he would be able to convince the magistrate of that logic.

‘In any case, you shouldn’t be here.’ Tan kept his tone even. ‘I’ve kept your identity hidden, as promised. You should have disappeared into the mountains by now.’

Like a common bandit. Despite their alliance, the magistrate had never thought well of him. Tan was still an administrator at heart while Yang, for all his wealth and status, was an outlaw. More so now that he’d tried to murder a man with his own hands.

‘Wang Shizhen saw my face,’ he explained. ‘It won’t be long before he comes after me.’

‘You wanted him to see you,’ Tan replied calmly.

They had collaborated to assassinate the fearsome general at a private gathering. Though Magistrate Tan was a man of the law, he knew the best way to get rid of a tyrant was a quick sword through the weeds.

‘He was right in front of me. I had to do something.’

Tan stabbed a finger towards him in accusation. ‘You acted on emotion. That banquet was the only chance we’d had to do this cleanly and now that chance is gone.’

Yang took another drink, feeling the burn of it down his throat. General Wang Shizhen had wrested control of the northern part of the province where he ruled through intimidation. He and Tan had been plotting for a long time how to stop the warlord, but Yang hadn’t told the magistrate the real reason he wanted General Wang dead. A reason that went much deeper than personal gain or political rivalry.

That bastard had owed him blood. It wasn’t a moment’s impulse that had Yang sinking the knife into the general. It was a matter of family honour and a promise he’d made to himself as well as a cold and wandering spirit long ago.

‘Was it worth it?’ Tan asked quietly.

Yang regarded his accomplice. The magistrate was older and in many ways shrewder. He kept his secrets close and rarely revealed his intentions. Tan also preferred to remain safe in the shadows.

‘I wanted to look him in the eye,’ Yang confessed. ‘I wanted Wang Shizhen to know he was going to die and why.’

He had succeeded in sinking his knife into the warlord’s chest, but the satisfaction was only momentary. General Wang had survived the attack and would exact vengeance.

‘A mistake, my friend,’ Tan said with a sigh. ‘After months of careful planning.’

‘We’ll create another opportunity. Wang Shizhen has other enemies. We’ll find them.’

Magistrate Tan regarded him wordlessly, taking full measure of him with a keen eye. As the silence continued, an uneasy feeling gathered along Yang’s spine. The magistrate had already made things clear—this show of emotion was a weakness. Yang forced his hands to unclench.

‘I came back because I need your help. Wang has issued orders for my capture, but he won’t stop at that.’

‘I don’t see what I can do for you.’

Yang swallowed his pride. ‘I need your protection. Not for myself, but for my family.’

What family he had left. The war had begun. There was a time when General Wang had thought Yang was completely under his thumb, but now the truth was out.

‘We knew what the consequences were if we failed,’ Tan replied. ‘Your best option now is to flee. Get as far away from the general’s stronghold as possible.’

The magistrate was very careful with words. It didn’t escape Yang’s notice that Tan hadn’t yet answered his request. Tan Li Kuo had co-ordinated the attack through coded messages from hidden meeting places. No one aside from Yang knew of his involvement.

‘Are we no longer friends then?’ he asked warily.

The question itself was a falsehood. They’d never been friends. Tan was the most powerful ally he had, but he could also be a formidable enemy.

Tan held his gaze for a long time. Too many people mistook the lack of sharpness in his rounded features as a sign of dullness, but they couldn’t be more wrong. The magistrate used those assumptions to his advantage, often taking on a cheerful, careless manner, yet he made no effort to portray such an image now. A deep line formed between his eyes.

‘I am very disappointed,’ he remarked finally.

‘As am I. It was the difference of a finger’s length. Life and death.’ Yang downed the rest of the wine and set his cup on to the table in agitation.

Tan hadn’t touched his drink the entire time. ‘Not about Wang Shizhen. You speak passionately of your family, Mister Bao. Yet what of my family? There’s still the question of my daughter.’

‘Your daughter?’

The moment after the question left his lips, Yang regretted it. Apparently that matter wasn’t closed. ‘I sincerely apologise for any impolite behaviour on my part.’

‘Impolite is a rather mild way of putting it.’ The magistrate’s frown deepened. ‘There were too many eyes at the park today to keep the incident quiet.’

Yang cursed himself for being so blind. He had misread the official’s growing displeasure as apprehension over the failed assassination plot. But Tan Li Kuo was a father who had just found his daughter in a scandalous position. Family honour would always come first.

‘She is my only daughter. To have her shamed so publicly is unacceptable. There is only one acceptable resolution. A gentleman such as yourself must see it as well.’

Tan couldn’t possibly be suggesting...

‘But there’s a price on my head,’ Yang protested.

‘To the north,’ the magistrate replied coolly. ‘Wang Shizhen holds no authority here.’

Yang hadn’t realised how dangerous his situation was until that moment. He needed Tan’s protection to keep his family safe, but worse than that, he himself was completely at Tan’s mercy.

He had publicly insulted the magistrate’s daughter and there was only one way for Tan to save face. All in all, it wasn’t the worst of solutions. It would tie the two of them closer together, and Yang needed a powerful ally. And having the lovely Jin-mei as his wife was hardly punishment. Maybe fortune was still smiling on him.

‘If the magistrate would allow this unworthy servant to make amends...’ Yang took a deep breath, letting the turn of events sink in ‘...may I ask permission to marry your daughter?’

* * *

Jin-mei stabbed the needle into the handkerchief and set it aside. ‘Must we spend all day embroidering?’ She pressed her hands to her lower back and attempted to stretch. ‘We’ve been here for hours. My back hurts. My eyes hurt. Even my fingertips hurt.’

Lady Yi, her father’s wife, let out a pleasant little laugh while her needle continued to fly in and out of the silk. They were in Lady’s Yi’s sitting room. Though they had started at the same time, a hummingbird with green-tipped wings had emerged on her stepmother’s handkerchief along with a vibrant red peony for the little creature to hover over. Jin-mei had only completed one crane in what was supposed to be a pair soaring through the clouds.

‘We can’t stop now. The wedding is only three days away,’ Lady Yi chided gently.

‘Yes, the wedding.’ Why did her chest draw tight whenever anyone mentioned the wedding? Her pulse quickened with what could be either excitement or fear. She was pretty certain it was fear. Jin-mei took a breath to try to calm herself.

The day after their meeting in the park, Bao Yang had brought gifts and sat with her and Father for tea. After that an astrologer was immediately consulted to choose an auspicious date for their union. Between the stars and the moon and their birth dates, a good date just happened to be occurring only a week later. How convenient.

She picked up her embroidery and continued working on the wings of her crane. Though she wasn’t as clever and quick as Lady Yi with the needle, she was competent. She was also meticulous. She hated nothing more than making mistakes and having to pick out the stitches.

The handkerchief was a square of blue silk decorated with a pair of cranes to symbolise love and union. It was meant to be added to the dowry that would be sent to Bao Yang to show off her skill with the needle and thus desirability as a wife.

‘All of this rush is completely unnecessary,’ Jin-mei complained. ‘We were only alone for a moment. It wasn’t as if he had any time to debauch me.’

‘Jin-mei!’ her stepmother scolded lightly.

‘It’s true.’

Though he’d stood so close, almost holding her in his arms. She’d thought of those moments a hundred times over the past days, seeing Bao Yang’s crooked smile and how the light from above had cast his face in dark shadows. If they hadn’t been interrupted, he might have kissed her.

That last part was her own imagination. She had a more vivid imagination for events than she did embroidery designs. Yang seemed to be the sort of man who would know how to kiss. Her heart was beating faster again. This time she was pretty certain it was excitement.

‘Father never seemed so rigid about etiquette in the past,’ Jin-mei pointed out, starting on the second of the cranes.

‘You’re his daughter. His treasure.’

Her heart warmed a bit. She was her father’s daughter and always had been. Mother had been his first wife, but she took sick and passed away when Jin-mei was still young. For years after that, it had been only the two of them while Father was working for the census bureau and making a name for himself. Lady Yi had given birth to two sons much later, but Jin-mei remained his only daughter.

‘You remind him of your mother,’ Lady Yi said gently. ‘The love of his life.’

Jin-mei looked down, embarrassed. ‘Don’t talk like that, Lady Yi.’

‘It’s true. He’s never forgotten her. I don’t mind,’ she assured with a little smile ‘Your father is a good husband. I couldn’t wish for a better one.’

Her stepmother was so good-natured. Jin-mei had always believed he’d chosen Lady Yi to bring balance to their household. Jin-mei had inherited her father’s intense and driven nature, but where could ambition possibly lead in a woman?

Apparently to the pursuit of a husband. Jin-mei had been intent on wooing Yang with her intelligence, hadn’t she? She had dreamed of him since the first time she’d seen him in their parlour when she was fourteen and hopeless to let him know she existed. Years later, nothing had gone according to plan, but he had indeed finally noticed her and they were now betrothed. Yet she couldn’t be rid of this sick feeling in her stomach.

‘Lady Yi, I don’t know how to explain this, but I’m worried.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Worried?’

It was obvious Yang had been coerced into proposing marriage. ‘What if he doesn’t want me?’

Lady Yi set her needle into the cloth. ‘I understand.’

‘You do?’

Her stepmother moved to the trunk in the corner. She tossed a sly look over her shoulder before lifting the lid.

‘This is my wedding gift to you.’ Lady Yi returned with something wrapped in red silk and placed it in Jin-mei’s lap. The object was round and had some heft to it.

‘Shall I open this now?’

‘Well, certainly before the wedding.’ Lady Yi sat back on her stool to watch expectantly.

Jin-mei unwrapped the silk to reveal a bronze mirror. ‘How beautiful!’

There was a gleam in Lady Yi’s eye. ‘Look at the other side.’

The back of the mirror was elaborately engraved. She read the inscription aloud. ‘In front of the flowers and under the moon.’

The design in between the characters wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen. She bent to take a closer look. ‘Oh, heaven!’

Now she understood the reason behind Lady Yi’s sly smile. There were engravings of four different couples on the back; men and women joined together with arms and legs intertwined. Her cheeks heated as she stared at the figures, but she couldn’t drag her eyes away.

‘With your mother gone, it is my responsibility to instruct you on such matters.’

Jin-mei was still examining the explicit images. She had thought herself confused when all she knew of coupling was from poems that alluded to the clouds and the rain. Now she gaped at the mirror, turning it sideways and then back. ‘How is this...possible?’

‘Everything manages to find its place,’ Lady Yi said wisely. ‘Men and women are made to fit together.’

And they seemed to fit in interesting ways at that. Bronze arms and legs writhed over the back of the mirror. In three days, she was to share her marital bed with Yang doing that. Her throat went dry.

A knock on the door made her jump. Hastily, she dragged her embroidery over her lap just as her father entered.

‘Husband.’ Lady Yi stood to greet him. ‘We are nearly finished putting Jin-mei’s dowry together. She is very excited about the wedding.’

Father nodded and laid a hand over Lady Yi’s shoulder. Her stepmother always appeared so delicate next to Father’s heavier build. ‘May I speak to my daughter privately?’

This was worse than the time Father had caught her sneaking out to the Spring Lantern Festival. With her face burning, she glanced down at her lap. The mirror wasn’t entirely covered. An image of a man lying on his back with the woman straddled on top of him peeked out from the corner of the silk. Her stepmother’s delaying tactics as she turned to make a comment to her husband gave Jin-mei enough time to pull the handkerchief over the amorous couple.

Lady Yi then exited the room, and Father pulled the stool beside her before sitting down. ‘How is my daughter?’

‘Well.’ Her voice was pitched a note too high. ‘How was Father’s trip?’

Father grunted. ‘A disaster, but everything is taken care of now.’ With a deep breath, he met her eyes. ‘I left so quickly after the betrothal, I never asked you whether you had any objections to this marriage.’

‘What objections would I have?’ she asked. ‘Mister Bao is a long-time friend of Father’s. He seems a gentleman.’

She’d looked away while saying it. Her father would undoubtedly notice. All of a sudden, she wondered if he could read the events of that fateful afternoon on her face: how she’d tried to flirt instead of walking away, Bao Yang disappearing beneath the bridge with her following like an eager young duckling. Then there was the near kiss—even if that had only been in her own imagination.

‘My only objection is having to leave you,’ she said, as a dutiful daughter should.

‘Dear girl, you can’t stay with this old man for ever.’

A tiny ache grew in Jin-mei’s chest. She would miss him. As excited as she was at the prospect of being wed to someone she found to her liking, this was the end of her childhood. She would leave home to become part of a new family she knew so little about.

‘Bao Yang said something to me that I’ve been wondering about. He told me if he was discovered, his life would be in danger.’

Her father frowned. ‘When did he say such a thing?’

‘In the park. That was why he went to hide beneath the bridge.’

Yang had made it sound as if she had the power of life and death over him. The situation was so startling and exciting that before she knew what was happening, she was beneath the bridge and practically in his arms.

‘Mister Bao isn’t in any danger,’ Father assured. ‘He must have been teasing you.’

It hadn’t seemed as though he was teasing, but she would have to trust her father on this. Yang was a guest in their villa outside the city while awaiting the wedding date. Certainly there was no danger for him there.

Father kissed her forehead. ‘Now I must go to the tribunal, but we’ll have dinner together this evening. Not too many more meals before my daughter is a married woman, hmm?’

She ducked her head shyly. ‘Yes, Father.’

He pinched her cheek, something he hadn’t done for years. She usually hated the gesture, but today she didn’t mind so much. She listened for the door to close before setting the bronze mirror aside.

‘Is everything all right?’ Lady Yi asked when she returned to her stool.

‘Yes, of course,’ Jin-mei said, picking up her embroidery.

They set about once again working on their designs, but Jin-mei couldn’t escape the nagging feeling at the back of her mind.

When she was very young, Father had explained to her that magistrates were trained to read faces in order to discern whether a subject was telling the truth or lying. The discipline was called reading the five signs. The easiest trick was to watch the eyes: look for a twitch to the left or right, rapid blinking, the inability to focus. Father’s skill had made it very hard for her to misbehave during her childhood.

Perhaps because of such training, her father’s gaze was difficult to decipher. Jin-mei had learned instead to watch his mouth. After she’d asked about Yang’s remark, Father’s mouth had tightened for half a count before twitching into a grin. For that one breath, he had been calculating what to say to her, carefully constructing his response. If she were a magistrate, she would have insisted her father was hiding something.

Chapter Three

Fate was a funny thing. Five days ago, he had been hiding from the city guards. Today Yang was getting married to the magistrate’s daughter. Such was fate. If it wasn’t such an important occasion, he would have laughed aloud when he arrived by sedan chair at Magistrate Tan’s residence.

It was late in the evening, during the hour of the Dog, which had been deemed auspicious for them by the fortune-teller. More importantly, the sky was dark and the streets relatively empty due to the curfew.

The wedding was to be a quiet one with the festivities to take place far outside of Minzhou at the magistrate’s villa. Though the city’s constables didn’t have his name or face to attach to the earlier attack on the warlord, neither he nor Tan wanted to risk too much attention. It was enough that any rumours of impropriety surrounding Lady Tan would be immediately banished by news of her marriage.

The porters carried an empty sedan chair alongside him for his intended bride while lantern bearers illuminated the way. Attendants bearing wedding gifts lined up at the head of the procession.

Tan Li Kuo had negotiated a long list of demands on behalf of his daughter. There would be a proper bridal procession to the guest villa where Yang was staying. The bridal suite had been laid out there as well as preparations for a respectably sized banquet. His dear daughter would receive the lavish wedding she deserved.

Who would have thought the crafty official would turn out to be so sentimental?

Two red lanterns hung on either side of the gate. Tan emerged just as Yang stepped down from the sedan. The magistrate’s expression was so serious, exaggerated by the shadows of the flickering light.

Yang bowed formally. As he straightened, doubt crept in. The magistrate’s black eyes fixed on to him; judging Yang as if he were kneeling before the tribunal.

‘Honourable sir,’ Yang began, returning the magistrate’s hard gaze without flinching. ‘I have come on this auspicious day to take your daughter as my most precious bride.’

Perhaps the cold stare meant that Tan had reconsidered this hasty marriage, but that was nonsense. The entire procession wedding procession was gathered in the street.

Tan regarded him with the iron look for another heartbeat, then his stern expression cracked into a grin. ‘Why so formal?’ He chuckled, patting Yang heartily on the back. ‘We’re soon to be family.’

The show of cheerfulness was more in line with Tan’s usual demeanour, but something felt out of place about the whole situation. Perhaps that was inevitable given the nature of the arrangement. He and Tan might have been long-time allies, but they were far from friends.

Yang let out a breath as the magistrate escorted him into the courtyard. The entire house was lit gaily with lanterns. All the servants were dressed in their best, their faces bright as they looked upon his ceremonial red robe. A romantic melody played on the pipa.

In the parlour, they shared tea and sweet cakes while speaking of inconsequential things. Tan’s wife was present, a charming and cultured woman with eyes that smiled. The bride herself was nowhere to be seen.

‘I think I know why you’re looking around so eagerly,’ taunted the magistrate.

‘You old goat!’ Lady Yi swatted her husband’s arm. Then she said to him, more politely. ‘I’ll bring Jin-mei out to join us.’

Yang grinned. This was just like a real wedding.

Well, of course it was a real wedding. Jin-mei was to be his wife. He had no particular objections to being married, though it would be difficult to raise a family under the current circumstances. Yang was still a fugitive and one of the most powerful men in the province wanted him dead.

Navigating this situation would take every connection and asset he had at his fingertips. But Yang was nothing if not resourceful. He prided himself on it.

Jin-mei emerged wearing a green-silk robe accented with gold embroidery. Their gazes met and he suddenly forgot all of the schemes and ploys that had brought him to this moment.

He hadn’t had much opportunity to look closely at her before now. Her lips were painted red and her cheeks flushed. The elaborate wedding costume overwhelmed her, making her appear small, but there was a womanly shape to her bosom and a generous curve to her hips. Her look was nervous as she regarded him, but far from timid. Maybe Tan was right. Yang was eager to know her better, this pretty girl who was to be his wife.

He could do worse. Much, much worse.

He gave Jin-mei a smile because she looked as though she might need some reassurance. When she returned it, he felt a hitch in his chest. He’d had lovers and companions in the past, but never anyone who had belonged to him. Never anyone he was bound to care for and protect. Yang found that he was the one looking away, averting his eyes, willing his heartbeat to steady.

When he turned, he saw Tan watching him carefully. Magistrate Tan was a shrewd, calculating man—the most dangerous man he’d ever encountered, aside from General Wang. Aside from himself. Now was not the time to show weakness.

Jin-mei approached in small steps that were mismatched with the bold way she’d first approached him. Her spine was fixed and straight and she looked as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. He was no better when he stood rigidly to bow to her. They were like a pair of wooden marionettes on strings.

It was all the ritual and formality. Once they were alone, they would know how to be with one another, he assured himself. There had been no fear in her when he’d lured her beneath the bridge, after all.

The next time they would be alone would be in their wedding bed. As they performed the rest of the ceremony before the Tan family altar, Yang occupied himself by mentally pulling the pins from Jin-mei’s hair and kissing away the vermilion that painted her lips until she was once again that wild and fearless creature he’d met by the river.

It was their wedding night. He was allowed such erotic thoughts.

Jin-mei met his gaze with a question in her eyes, a question he looked forward to answering later. She still looked so anxious, but there were too many people about for him to reach out to her and reassure her with just a touch against her wrist or a hand on her back.

Ours may be an arranged marriage, he wanted to tell her. But it is the best arrangement I have ever made.

Whether or not that was true was left to be seen, but it was true enough in that moment. Magistrate Tan could have just as easily had him castrated as punishment for ruining Jin-mei’s reputation. Despite the failed assassination plot and the warrants out for him, fortune had smiled upon Yang once again. He had the luck of dragons.

* * *

With the tea ceremony complete, they had more formalities to look forward to. The long parade back to the villa, the wedding banquet, a lot of greetings and well-wishers.

Jin-mei struggled with her robe as she climbed on to the empty sedan chair, and Yang reached out to steady her.

‘Your fingers are like ice.’ He squeezed her hand in both of his before letting go to seat himself in the adjoining sedan. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you?’

It was meant as a jest, but Jin-mei did appear pale as the procession started towards the gates. A line of attendants trailed behind them along with Jin-mei’s family transported in several litters. The setting was far from private, with both of them hefted over the shoulders of the carriers, but at least they could finally speak.

‘This isn’t what you wanted, is it?’ Jin-mei asked beneath her breath.

Attendants flanked either side of the sedan chairs carrying poles with lanterns attached. A hazy glow formed around the entourage, but it left half of Jin-mei’s face in shadow and impossible for him to read. She stared directly ahead, as if afraid of his answer. There was a proud tilt to her chin.

‘There is no one else I would rather be wedded to,’ he replied without hesitation.

Jin-mei whipped around to face him, causing the pearls in her ears to swing dramatically. ‘You’re trying to be clever with your words. You could very well mean that you have no desire to be married at all, to anyone.’

It was hard not to smile. ‘I think you and I will suit each other quite well, Jin-mei.’

Jin-mei. The sound of her name slid smoothly over his tongue, as if he’d been calling her that for years. It warmed him to be able to use it. Jin-mei.

‘It’s a compliment,’ he said, seeing her perplexed expression.

Running a hand nervously over her throat, she turned her attention back to the road. They were at the gates now where carriages and horses awaited to take the procession out to the magistrate’s villa.

There was only brief conversation on the short carriage ride to the villa.

‘Do you spend much time away from home?’ she asked.

‘Our trade routes take me all over the province.’

‘It must be quite dangerous to travel on the open road.’

‘Not if one is prepared,’ he assured her.

Jin-mei looked out into the night. ‘I think I would worry about you all the time.’

Once again, a heavy, sinking feeling weighed down his chest. Jin-mei had a claim to him when no one else had in a long time.

‘What...?’ Yang paused with the question lingering on his tongue. ‘What has your father told you about my family?’

‘He told me you’ve made your fortune on the transport of salt and grain.’

Perhaps now wasn’t a good time to reveal his secrets, but he was beginning to wonder if Jin-mei already suspected what sort of shady underworld activities he was also involved in. Magistrate Tan certainly knew enough to destroy him, but he seemed content to remain quiet. With this wedding, their futures were now intertwined.

The best arrangement Yang had ever made. He had the magistrate’s protection, his silence, his daughter... Surely it couldn’t be this easy?

‘When will we go back north to your home—I mean, to our home?’ Jin-mei blushed a little as she fidgeted in the sedan chair.

He found it irresistibly charming, which made the next part more difficult. ‘I’ve arranged with your father for you to remain here after the wedding.’

She frowned at him. ‘I won’t be coming to live with you?’

‘Of course you will, Wife.’ He used the endearment to assuage her doubts, but the word felt awkward on his lips. ‘There’s some business I must attend to. Afterwards, I’ll return and we’ll travel north together.’

She nodded, but didn’t look entirely satisfied. He had been accountable to no one but himself for a long time, which made it easy to engage in questionable activities without being exposed. That would all change now with Jin-mei at his side. She had a keen eye. She was clever. And from what little he knew of her, she didn’t seem to bite her tongue very often.

Maybe there would be no more reason to hide by the time he returned. Wang Shizhen would be lying cold in his grave and Yang could leave his days of plotting behind. Or the outcome could be the exact opposite with him being the one left dead. Yang had been fully prepared to accept failure—until now.

‘I won’t be away long,’ he promised, which was a lie. The slight curl in Jin-mei’s lip told him it wasn’t a good lie either.

They arrived at the guest villa which had been decorated with red banners. Once again, they were swept up in the festivities. They lit incense and bowed to an altar set up for his ancestors this time. Then they drank honeyed wine from two cups joined by a red ribbon before Jin-mei was ushered away by her female attendants. Meanwhile Yang was surrounded by wedding guests intent on pouring more wine down his throat.

* * *

The next hour was a blur. Though the guests were all strangers to him, apparently Magistrate Tan had many friends. The official was the happiest man at the banquet, refilling Yang’s cup time and time again and drinking to his health, his happiness and many grandchildren.

Repeatedly, Yang tried to escape to the bridal chamber between the ribald taunting and innuendo that was required of any wedding. Each time he was dragged back and plied with more wine until he was in a state that he rarely allowed himself to be in. Yang was drunk.

‘Get him to his wife while he can still perform his husbandly duties!’

Yang had no idea who said that, but he raised his cup in thanks and drank. A firm hand clamped over his shoulder, startling him. It was Tan, now his father-in-law, who regarded him with an intense look. The magistrate’s face was flushed red from the wine, but his gaze was still sharp.

The grip tightened on Yang’s shoulder. ‘Jin-mei is my daughter,’ Tan said, serious once more. ‘My treasure.’

‘I’ll take care of her,’ Yang vowed.

The magistrate nodded, unsmiling.

A swarm of young men grabbed hold of Yang then, laughing as they escorted him down the hallway to the wedding chamber. Tossing him inside, they shut the door behind him before retreating.

He expected to see his bride there waiting, but the room was empty. The bed was a magnificent one, fashioned out of dark wood with a large canopy overhead. The servants had taken the care to drape the bed in red silk and scatter flower petals and seeds upon it. For fertility.

‘Jin-mei?’ he called softly.

He crouched to search beneath the bed, in case she was hiding coyly there. That was when he realised how drunk he must be. He fought a wave of dizziness as he straightened.

Perhaps she was away for some womanly preparation he wasn’t aware of. He’d certainly never been married before to know.

There was a flask of wine set up on the table beside the bed. He filled both cups and waited beside the bed, thinking of, among other things, performing his ‘duties.’ When his bride had still not arrived in the next few minutes, he started getting impatient.

Though the event had been unplanned, it was still his wedding. The banquet had lightened the weight from his shoulders for a few hours, and Jin-mei had looked rather tempting while she scolded him in the sedan chair. She also had looked quite charming the first time he’d seen her that evening; so nervous.

He’d never been with a virgin before. He needed to take things slowly. Kiss her hair, her mouth, her throat. Lead her into desire step by step—where was she? Had she become frightened? Maybe her amah and stepmother were providing some final instruction on matters of yin and yang. Funny, Jin-mei didn’t seem the shy sort.

By now, Yang was getting very impatient. Watching the door, he picked up the wine cup and took a sip, rolling the wine on his tongue out of habit. The drink had been sweetened with honey and steeped in spices. A faint trace of bitterness only came in right as he was about to swallow.

He spat it out, staring at the wine flask and the remaining cup. Poison?

The fog of drunkenness lifted from his mind as his survival instinct came alive. Opening the front of his robe, he closed his hand around the knife he’d hidden beneath his clothes. With the sort of illegal and insurgent activities he was involved with, it was wise to always be armed. It was always wise to taste anything he wasn’t sure of very carefully for poison.

His first thought was to find Jin-mei. Someone had taken her.

Yang was nearly to the door when he stopped himself, his head swimming in circles, but still able to function. He recalled how Tan Li Kuo had refilled his wine cup over and over at the banquet. This was the magistrate’s private villa. His servants had set up the chamber and all of the guests were his friends.

That two-headed snake.

The wily magistrate had found a way to both preserve his daughter’s reputation and exact revenge on Yang all at once. After all, being widowed was a perfectly honourable state for his daughter to be in.

But if Tan wanted him dead, drugging his wine in the wedding chamber was a clumsy way to go about it. There were no guarantees with poison. The magistrate had to have something else planned as well. Someone tasked with making sure the job was completed.

A scraping sound came from the wall. No, it came from behind the wall. With one hand, he felt along the wooden panels. His other hand gripped his knife. It wasn’t hard to find the edge of the hidden door and he swung it open, preparing to strike.

A man dressed in a red wedding robe stared out at him from a small compartment.

‘That scheming bastard!’ Yang seethed.

His mirror image attempted to step out from the hiding space, but Yang stopped him with a menacing shake of his knife. ‘What were you going to do? Strangle me? Stab me?’

‘No, of course not!’ the man cried, staring at the blade. He had gone pale. ‘I was just supposed to run from this room screaming.’

‘That’s nonsense.’

‘It’s true. I was paid to do it.’

‘And that’s it?’

The impostor nodded, shaking.

Yang struggled to clear his head enough to piece the magistrate’s plan together. It was possible Tan had been planning his death all along. They were accomplices in a failed assassination plot, after all. He alone could implicate Tan in the conspiracy.

He’d been swindled. If this man wasn’t the one hired to cut his throat, then an assassin was certainly nearby, closing in for the kill as they spoke.

Yang grabbed the impostor by the robe to drag him out of the compartment. ‘It’s time to do what you were hired for, my friend. Start running.’

Chapter Four

There was trouble outside.

Jin-mei sat in the bridal chamber while Lady Yi tried to give her final words of advice, telling her ‘not to worry if it’s not like what you expect the first time’ when Jin-mei had no idea what to expect. Suddenly the hum of noise from the banquet turned into shouting.

She started for the door, but it swung open before she could reach it. Father stood before her with a group of men gathered behind him. She saw one of them holding a club.

‘Stay here,’ Father told her. ‘It’s not safe outside.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

She might as well have not spoken. Father pulled the door shut, and she heard him giving orders on the other side. ‘Search the house. Search the woods.’

Search the woods for what?

Lady Yi stayed with her, and they huddled together on the bed. The cover had been sprinkled with lotus seeds and flower petals for good luck, but the symbols were meaningless now. What had happened to disrupt her wedding? And where was Bao Yang...?

Every so often, Lady Yi would say, ‘Everything will be all right.’ Then a little later she’d repeat it. ‘Everything will be all right.’

With each repetition, Jin-mei’s heart sank. More time had passed, another empty assurance given and still there was no news. She had started drifting off to sleep on the bed when the doors opened.

Again, it was Father. His face was sunken, defeated. ‘Jin-mei—’

‘Where’s Bao Yang?’

‘Jin-mei,’ he said again, gently this time. Too gently, and she knew.

She started trembling so hard she had to sit down. ‘What happened, Father?’

Lady Yi wrapped her arms around Jin-mei as her father told the entire story. A madman had come to the villa wielding a knife. The guests had seen a man chasing Yang into the woods, but then both of them had disappeared.

‘That’s impossible.’ A wave of dizziness passed over her. She reached out to brace herself against the enclosure over the bed.

‘I summoned every constable to search the woods. It’s possible they fell into the ravine. The river is high from the plum rains and with the rocks down below—’

Jin-mei couldn’t listen to any more. She wanted to go to the river herself that very moment, but that was impossible. It was too dark. There was possibly a madman on the loose.

The next morning, Jin-mei did accompany Head Constable Han and his search party as they scoured the ravine. With her heart in her throat, she searched the rocks below for a sign of Yang’s red wedding robe, but there was nothing but the waters of the Min River rushing by.

It was improper for her to be out there in the sun, among so many strangers, but she was no longer a sheltered young girl to be hidden away. A married woman was granted more freedom. The thought made her want to weep.

But Jin-mei didn’t weep. Everything had happened all too suddenly for her to know what to feel. Drained and exhausted from lack of sleep, she finally turned away from the search and found herself unable to mourn properly for her husband of only a few hours. All she could do was think of the few fleeting moments they’d shared together, and the kiss beneath a bridge she’d only imagined. A kiss that would now never come to be.

* * *

For the first seven days, Jin-mei remained shut away, dressed in pale sackcloth and lighting incense for a husband she had barely known. When she finally ventured outside, it was only at her father’s insistence. She had replaced her white mourning robe with a sombre grey one and dutifully set one foot in front of the other as she accompanied the constable’s wife through the city. All she wanted was to return to bed and wake up in a month when the wound wasn’t so new and raw.

Constable Han’s wife was close to Jin-mei in age and it was said that she had once been a dancer who had travelled throughout the province. Li Feng was long-limbed, poised and moved with a confidence that Jin-mei envied. Along with being graceful, the other woman was also full of energy and life. Even her eyes were animated, catching the light as she spoke. In contrast, Jin-mei felt as grey and lifeless as her robe.

Their morning consisted of a visit to the temple to light incense and pray for the spirits of the deceased. Afterwards, Li Feng had suggested a walk through the park, but Jin-mei refused. It was too soon. Not even two weeks had passed since she had met Bao Yang there. Only two weeks to become a wife and a widow.

‘Along the market, then,’ Li Feng replied, refusing to let her mope. ‘I’ll take you to my favourite tea house.’

Jin-mei trudged along, a poor companion in every way. It was her first time out in public since Yang’s death and she was at a loss. With Yang gone, she had no new family to go to, no wifely duties, no future.

Her life was no different than it had been before. She had returned to her father’s house to live and no one spoke of what had happened that night. It was nothing but a dream. Her hopes and fears before the wedding were nothing but clouds that had been blown away with the breeze.

‘How long have you been married to Constable Han?’ Jin-mei asked, attempting conversation.

‘Not long. Only a little over a month now.’

‘A month?’ Jin-mei’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. ‘I should have sent you a gift.’

She hadn’t even known there had been another wedding so recently. A magistrate and his constable were so far apart in status that Jin-mei and Li Feng had little reason to socialise. Even this short outing felt awkward and forced.

‘There’s no need to apologise. My husband has been so busy with his duties as the new constable, sometimes I wonder if we’re married after all.’

Jin-mei attempted a smile at the jest, but once again her thoughts returned to Yang. In one part, it was due to grief, but another part was the strange circumstances of how he’d disappeared.

‘I apologise for being so forward, but has Constable Han made any progress on the investigation?’

‘Han hasn’t said much about it, but don’t you worry. My husband will find out who is responsible. He was relentless as a thief-catcher.’

‘It’s so hard to believe that no one was found; not my husband or his attacker. If I could at least see him—if we were able to lay his body in the ground—maybe I wouldn’t feel so empty, as if things were unfinished.’ Jin-mei knew she was being morbid to dwell on it, but she had so few memories of Yang. The details of his disappearance loomed large in her mind. ‘There are moments when I forget that my husband is dead and I have to remind myself that he really is gone.’

Li Feng touched her sleeve sympathetically. ‘Do you want to cry? I can find a private place for us and you can cry as much as you like. I won’t think less of you for it.’

‘No, I don’t want to cry. I don’t know if I even should cry. Everything that happened was so strange, I don’t know what to do with myself now.’

‘I lost my father unexpectedly when I was very young,’ Li Feng confided. ‘And then I was separated from my mother for years. There were many days when I felt part of myself was gone and floating in the ghost world with them. I had so few memories of them, but the few I possessed, I held on to them like pearls.’

‘You understand then!’ Jin-mei’s throat tightened. That was how she felt: like half a ghost herself. ‘My husband was a long-time associate of my father’s, but he never paid any notice to me until right before we were married. But then it was as though he could see me so clearly, when no one else could. The last words he said to me were that we would suit each other quite well.’

For the first time since the tragedy, Jin-mei felt tears gathering. A woman never knew whether her marriage would be one of love, but in that moment Yang’s expression as he looked at her was far from cold and far from uninterested. There had been a half-smile upon his lips and a wicked lift to his eyebrow.

Jin-mei had believed then that her husband was indeed capable of loving her and she him. She could sense the possibility heavy in the air between them as they swayed upon the sedan chairs. She could feel it in the way they spoke with one another, phrases chasing and dancing with one another. Yet hours later, she had gone to wait anxiously on her bridal bed for a husband who would never come.

‘He sounds like a good man,’ Li Feng said gently.

Jin-mei knew it was just something to say, but she appreciated it none the less. It was good to talk about him. ‘Bao Yang was always so charming and clever.’

Li Feng halted in the middle of the busy market and shot her an odd look. ‘Your husband’s name was Bao Yang?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘How curious. I once knew someone by that name.’ She gave her head a little shake. ‘No matter. It’s such a common name.’

But it wasn’t. Before Jin-mei could answer, a loud crash came from the drinking house across the street. A brawl must have broken out on the second floor.

Li Feng grabbed hold of her arm. Startled by the rough treatment, Jin-mei tried to pull away, but the constable’s wife directed her out of the street and into the doorway of one of the shops.

Li Feng glanced over her shoulder as two city guards hurried towards the disturbance. ‘Stay here,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll be back.’

At that, Li Feng flew across the street and disappeared into the drinking house, leaving Jin-mei to stare after her in bewilderment. There was nothing to do but do as she was told. Jin-mei watched the stream of market-goers flow by, oblivious to whatever was happening in the tavern.

A man appeared on the far corner and something about him caught her attention. He was tall and lean of build with a slight crookedness to his nose. She only saw his face for a second before he turned away, but her heart leapt in her chest.

It was him. It was Bao Yang.

He glanced about briefly before stepping into the street. Jin-mei rushed after him, but with his longer stride, he pulled ahead of her until he was just another head in the crowd.

‘Yang!’ Several people turned to stare at her, but she didn’t care. She tried to shove through, but it was no use. Yang was gone.

* * *

Jin-mei was still searching the marketplace when Li Feng found her. ‘I apologise, Lady Tan, but my husband was in there—’

‘I need to go home,’ Jin-mei interrupted. ‘I need to speak to my father.’

The constable’s wife seemed to have lost any desire for an outing as well. The magistrate’s residence was only a few streets away. Jin-mei attempted a hasty farewell once they reached the gates, but Li Feng stopped her.

‘Your late husband... I apologise if this brings up painful memories, but was he from around here?’

‘He was a merchant from the north. Taining County.’

There it was again. The tiniest of frowns flickered over the other woman’s face. Li Feng held her breath for a beat too long before responding. ‘My condolences on your loss, Lady Tan.’

‘Thank you for your kind thoughts.’

They exchanged polite bows and Li Feng hurried away while Jin-mei rushed through the gates into her home.

Their residence was a part of the walled compound of the magistrate’s yamen. Every morning, Father would have his tea in their private courtyard before passing through the gate that connected the living quarters to the judicial offices and tribunal. Jin-mei had never gone through the gate before, but she did so now.

The guards patrolling the grounds of the yamen raised their eyebrows, but otherwise gave her no trouble as she started down the corridor towards the main courtyard. There, a series of buildings and offices spread out before her and she was at a loss. Jin-mei knew petitioners lined up for the tribunal and prisoners were kept in cells at the back of the compound, but it was intimidating to see it all at work.

She had to ask a clerk for the location to her father’s office, but it was surprisingly empty when she arrived. Her father returned a few moments later, surrounded by guards. Constable Han was beside him, engaged in a heated discussion that fell silent when they saw her.

Jin-mei might never be able to read faces as well as her father, but some mannerisms were easy to interpret. Constable Han bowed hastily and excused himself. Father made an effort to compose himself before approaching.

He ushered her into his office and shut the door. ‘Jin-mei, what brings you here?’

‘Bao Yang is alive.’ Her pulse was still pounding. ‘I saw him out on the street, but he moved away so quickly, I couldn’t catch him.’

‘My dear daughter. I know how saddened you are by his loss.’ Her father took hold of her hands and his expression was one of anguish. ‘It is my own failing that I haven’t been able to find his killer.’

He wasn’t listening. ‘Yang isn’t dead. I saw him,’ she repeated fervently. ‘Right outside of the drinking house in the centre of the Seven Alleys.’

Father nodded, but it wasn’t a nod of agreement. It was an obliging nod, a nod of forbearance. ‘Jin-mei, you have always been clear-headed, but this tragedy is one very close to your heart. And with it being so soon after both your wedding and his death... Seven days after a person dies, his spirit returns home.’

‘I didn’t see a ghost. It was him!’ she insisted.

‘I believe you saw something your heart wanted to see.’ Again that nod and a pained look. ‘I know you’ve been lost these last few days. Lonely.’

He drew her into his arms, something he hadn’t done since she was a child. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let her father embrace her. It was reassuring to be held close. Jin-mei had indeed been feeling lost. And she was lonely all of the time now, even in their house among family.

‘I’ve never told anyone this,’ he began, stroking her hair gently. ‘But after your mother passed, I saw her. I was in the garden one morning, drinking tea, and I could feel her there. Then I turned and there she was, just for a moment. I tried to speak to her and she was gone. Not faded away like smoke, just there in one blink and gone in the next. After that I only saw her in dreams, but we never are able to speak to one another, as much as I want to. Is that how it was for you, Jin-mei?’

She was so caught up in her father’s story that she had nearly forgotten about Yang. ‘I called out to him but...but he disappeared.’

Had she imagined it? That was what her rational mind was telling her to accept. She pulled away from her father. ‘I saw him very clearly.’

‘I know,’ he replied with a sad smile. ‘It was the same way with your mother.’

Father looked away and her heart went out to him. It was as Lady Yi had said, Mother was the love of his life and she always would be. Slowly he returned to his desk and made an attempt to organise his case records to compose himself.

A moment earlier she had been so certain Yang was alive, but Father had cast doubt over everything she’d seen. If Yang had survived the fall, why hadn’t he returned to her? She knew of cases where people hit their heads and forgot all their memories. The fall from the ravine could have caused such an injury, but if her husband was indeed wandering through the city in confusion, certainly he would have been found by one of her father’s constables.

‘I was thinking for a while that it might be good for you to spend some time away,’ Father went on. ‘Perhaps a trip to the mountains with Lady Yi.’

‘During the mourning period? That would be disrespectful—’

Jin-mei caught herself. Once again, she was talking about Yang as if he were indeed dead.

‘After the proper mourning period, of course. In the meantime, take comfort that your husband’s spirit is with you. He hasn’t forgotten you.’

She nodded and took her leave, feeling confused and numb. Father was obviously very busy and she was barely making sense. She had so many questions to ask, but she didn’t know where to start. As Jin-mei made the long walk back to the living quarters, she tried to arrange all the pieces. Father’s explanation was indeed the rational one, but some instinct inside her refused to let go.

When she was young, she hadn’t listened to whimsical folk tales. Her father had entertained her instead with famous case accounts. The stories always featured clever officials who knew a lie immediately. They never accepted the obvious solution and were unsatisfied when the pieces of a puzzle didn’t fit together just right.

Jin-mei was unsatisfied.

Once she was back in the familiar surroundings of their house, she realised what was bothering her. Father had returned to his office with Constable Han. The constable’s wife had mentioned that Han was in the drinking house—could that mean her father had been there as well? At the very same time she had seen Yang in the street just outside.

It was possibly all coincidence, but Father was acting strange. Constable Han was acting strange. His wife as well. Perhaps heaven and earth had switched places and Jin-mei was the only one who found any of it odd.

Amah was out in the garden, watching over Jin-mei’s two brothers, which meant the old nursemaid was sitting beneath the shade of pavilion as the boys fought over a wooden boat.

She passed them by with a nod to Amah and went to her father’s study. The room was cool and dark with the shutters drawn. A sanctuary.

She had never, never been in Father’s study without his permission. Her hand trembled as she opened the drawer. A seed of an idea had been planted inside her. If she didn’t rid herself of this suspicion immediately, it would continue to take root and fester.

There were letters in the drawer. She looked quickly through them, finding nothing of any significance. Beneath the letters lay a thin book with a blue cover. She lifted it and saw a folded paper tucked away at the very bottom of the drawer.

Jin-mei opened up the paper to find that it was a note for five thousand taels of silver. Five thousand? It was an extraordinary amount of money. The red seal at the bottom of the note contained the character for ‘Bao.’ The Bao family chop, perhaps.

If this was meant to be a wedding gift, it was an extravagant one. Bao Yang came from a line of successful merchants, but she hadn’t realised how wealthy he was until now. How wealthy he had been...

Slowly, she folded the bank note and put it back beneath the book. There were officials who were corrupt and took bribes, but she’d always been confident that her father wasn’t one of them. He’d never shown any interest in money. When he spoke, it was of honesty, of moral behaviour, of law and order.

She could just ask her father why he had so much of Bao Yang’s money. They had always been able to say anything to one another. She’d always trusted him. She knew him.

Yet Jin-mei’s instincts told her Father had been hiding something for a while now. Ever since Bao Yang had come back into their lives.

Suddenly the details of her wedding night came back to her, not as a personal memory steeped in emotion, but as fragmented pieces. The pieces had always seemed oddly familiar to her, but she couldn’t place exactly why. A wedding banquet. A groom chased into the woods. The story had the mark of a classic tragedy.

Jin-mei went to her father’s shelves and began to look through the books. There were volumes of history and poetry, but the books she’d always enjoyed most were the extraordinary case records. Stories of scheming criminals bested by clever officials. Once she could read, she had borrowed the books from her father and read them herself. He’d always found her fascination for these tales amusing.

When she finally found the account, her heart stopped. There was a wedding. And a murder.

Clutching the book to her chest, she went to her room. Once the door was shut, she opened the book once more. A woman and her lover schemed to rob her wealthy neighbour by seducing him into marriage. On their wedding night, with guests all around, the groom was seen running from the bridal chamber, his hair in disarray. Mad.

The similarities were too much of a coincidence. Had the entire night been staged? But why? She wanted to run back to the tribunal to demand an answer from her father, but she already knew what would happen. He would deflect her suspicions. He would weave together colourful lies and she would believe him because she wanted to be convinced.

With shaking hands, Jin-mei collected her wedding money and a few belongings into a satchel. She didn’t need to read the case record to remember the rest of the details. The groom had thrown himself into the river while the guests looked on in horror. They knew it was him because of his ceremonial wedding robe. Though the river was searched, his body was never found.

Jin-mei had to know what had happened to Bao Yang. Even more than a sense of justice, her father had impressed upon her the importance of finding the truth.

Calmly, Jin-mei informed her amah that she was going to visit the constable’s wife, but instead hired a carriage to take her outside of the city walls to her father’s villa. Being wed and then widowed within a day must have emboldened her.

Her thoughts buzzed in her head like a nest of wasps. When she’d told Father she’d seen Yang alive, he hadn’t argued with her. Instead, her father had nodded sympathetically. He’d listened without judgement, and even agreed with her that she was not mistaken in what she’d seen. Most particularly, he’d brought up her mother. They rarely spoke of Mother, but Father had done so, confiding in Jin-mei and telling her a story that made her heart ache. He’d cast all her doubts aside and effectively quieted her.

Because as a magistrate, he knew how to detect falsehoods and how to create them. Father was a master of lies.

* * *

The villa was no longer draped in red and lit with lanterns. It had been locked down, with only a lone groundskeeper and his family assigned to watch over it. The groundskeeper was a middle-aged man whose hair was thinning slightly on top. He was surprised to see her, but let her in without protest.

‘You and your family attended to my husband while he stayed here, did you not?’ she asked as she wandered from room to room.

‘Yes, Lady Tan—my apologies. I meant, Bao Furen.’

He addressed her by her married title as Bao Yang’s wife. A pang of regret struck Jin-mei as she entered the bridal chamber. The red sheets and decorations had all been cleared away. The bed itself was bare and cold.

She closed her eyes. She remembered sitting on the bed and waiting for Yang. They were supposed to consummate their marriage that night. Perhaps coupling would be as awkward as it appeared on the bronze mirror or as profound and ephemeral as it sounded in poems. Regardless of what it would be, she had been excited to be discovering the answer with him. Excited and frightened and happy.

If she stayed any longer, her heart would shatter into a hundred pieces. Gently, with great care, she closed the door as if shutting it on an invalid on a deathbed, not wanting to disturb what little rest might remain.

‘Did you attend the wedding?’ she asked the groundskeeper.

The man was following behind her solicitously. For all he knew, her visit was nothing more than the whim of a grieving widow. For all she knew, maybe it was.

‘No, my lady. Magistrate Tan freed us from our obligations that day. We went into the city to visit family.’

She continued through the rest of the villa. The banquet room had been swept and all the tables cleared and stored. On the other side of the house, the side facing the woods, she entered a spacious chamber with a canopied bed. This bed had also been stripped of all curtains and bedding. At the foot of the bed, beside one of the legs, was a speck of something. She knelt down to retrieve it, closing two fingers around a candied lotus seed.

There had been lotus seeds scattered on her bed the night of the wedding to symbolise fertility and good fortune. Lotus seeds in two places. Two bridal chambers?

On the night of her wedding, Yang would have left the party, ushered away by the well-wishers who were guests at the banquet. By tradition, they would lead him to her bed in case he was too drunk to make it there himself. But Yang had never appeared in her chamber. Instead, the next time anyone saw him, he was being chased into the woods.

In the story of the tragic wedding, the greedy woman had continued to live for years as a widow, wealthy with her late husband’s fortune. No one knew that there was actually a tunnel connecting the two houses. And that the groom hadn’t thrown himself into the river that night. He hadn’t left the house at all. Years later, the constables found a corpse hidden in the tunnel, still dressed in his wedding robe.

What if the guests had never intended to escort Yang to the bridal chamber? Maybe they had taken him to another room, one with a hidden compartment just as the case record had described.

And maybe, with the suspicious lotus seed in hand, she was standing in that other room now.

Jin-mei searched along the floor for some sort of trapdoor. Next she searched over the walls, feeling all along the wood. Her breath caught when she found a raised edge in the wall.

It couldn’t be true. Jin-mei prayed that it wasn’t true. Holding her breath, she pulled the panel open.

The enclosure was empty, but Jin-mei felt no relief as she stared into the hollow space. On the ground, a dark mark stained the wood like a spill of blank ink. Her head tried to deny what she was seeing, but her instincts wouldn’t be quieted. Blood had been spilled here. Her entire wedding night had been an elaborate ruse, and no one was more deceived than she.

Chapter Five

When it came to matters of commerce, Yang had a reputation for knowing who to trust and how far, but lately those instincts were failing him. He should have known it was a mistake to try to negotiate a deal with a crooked magistrate and an even worse mistake to return after the staged wedding to try to confront the villain. He’d only managed to get into the same room with Tan at the drinking house before being chased off.

He’d simply wanted answers, but apparently Tan Li Kuo was an even greater scoundrel than he was.

With his initial plan abandoned, Yang stood alone at the ferry crossing while the transport ship approached. For a river vessel it was an impressive sight: three masts with sails unfurled to catch the wind. The vessel was a floating fortress that had seen more than one battle in its lifetime.

The ship cut through the deep waters of the Min River and dropped anchor near the bank. Within moments, the gangplank was lowered.

‘Could that be the infamous Bao Yang?’ a female voice called from the deck.

A familiar face greeted him from the bow and he let himself breathe. He’d angered both a warlord and a magistrate and had precious few allies left. After ascending the gangplank, Yang was met on deck by the captain herself.

‘Lady Daiyu,’ he greeted.

‘Mister Bao.’ Daiyu was smiling at him, though her mouth was tight about the edges. ‘I hear General Wang wants you dead.’

She was dressed in men’s clothing; in loose trousers and a tunic that stopped short of her knees. Her hair was swept to one side, the black lightened to a reddish, rosewood colour by exposure to the sun.

‘I heard that you had been killed.’ A booming voice came from the other side of the deck. ‘I was ready to celebrate.’

A huge ox of a man approached. His broad jaw was roughened by a thick growth of beard and a scar cut near his mouth, making his grin widen to a sneer.

‘Kenji,’ Yang greeted curtly.

‘Yang.’

There was no cordial bow exchanged between them.

Kenji was a foreigner, originally from the island nation of Wa. No one knew exactly why he chose to never return, but it wasn’t hard to imagine he was no longer welcome in his homeland. Lady Daiyu tolerated him and he was one of the few on board who did not serve as crew. As far as Yang knew, Kenji knew nothing about sailing. He was kept strictly for protection and commanded a handful of fighting men. Lady Daiyu would be in an unfortunate position if that beast ever decided to try to wrest control.

Yang did spare a bow for the young attendant who stood dutifully beside Daiyu. ‘Young Miss Nan, are you taking good care of your mistress?’

She fought to keep her composure, though she was obviously pleased by the acknowledgement. ‘I try to, Mister Bao.’

Nan was slight and willowy, but her eyes held a warrior glint. She blushed at him with all the softness of a young tigress.

Kenji snorted. ‘Too bad you can’t charm the general.’

‘I seem to have lost my gift for it,’ he had to admit. He’d foolishly hoped Magistrate Tan would protect his family, but the truth was Yang could only depend on himself now. ‘Are you certain you want this fugitive on board?’

Lady Daiyu’s smile remained fixed even while her eyes hardened. ‘I have no fear of General Wang.’ She sent the girl and the hulking Kenji away, and her tone warmed when she faced him. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘You’re still as beautiful as a spring flower.’

‘Sweet talker.’

‘I’m in trouble, Daiyu,’ he said in all seriousness. ‘I made a mistake.’

Daiyu was older than him, but her age could only be seen in the finest of lines along her mouth and eyes, barely visible unless one was allowed in close quarters to her. And Yang, at one time, had been allowed in very close quarters.

Pretty was too soft a word for her. She was nearly as tall as he was. Handsome rather than beautiful and as confident and at ease with herself in bed as out. She was also sharp and not one to waste words.

‘You used to be formidable. A shrewd and careful businessman. Never too greedy and always a step ahead.’

Yang knew where he’d gone wrong. It wasn’t in trusting Magistrate Tan too much, nor in making an enemy of a powerful warlord. He’d gone wrong from the moment he started letting emotion guide him rather than reason. Every choice he’d made since then had ended in disaster.

‘I need a safe place where my family can hide,’ he began. ‘One that Wang Shizhen with his entire army wouldn’t think to find.’

Daiyu frowned. ‘You can go into the mountains. The Wuyi region hasn’t fallen to the warlord yet.’

‘Yet,’ he echoed grimly.

The plan had some merit. There were many small villages and settlements tucked away in the remote region. Wang would have to scatter his army to find them.

‘It’s been years since I’ve spoken to my brother,’ he went on. ‘I’ll need to go to him and convince him to go into hiding. It could well be that the general knows my identity by now, and I can’t risk their safety.’

‘I understand.’ Daiyu nodded sympathetically. ‘Family is everything.’

At that, the lady captain offered to take him as far as he needed—for three times the usual fare.

‘You’re a true friend,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth.

‘Times are hard,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘And you’re trouble. You said so yourself.’

‘Lady Daiyu!’

The girl Nan was looking over the bow as she waved her over. Yang remained by Daiyu’s side as she went to investigate, standing perhaps a bit too close to her out of old habit. Much of the crew had known the two of them had been lovers and likely assumed he would resume that role, which wasn’t an unpleasant prospect.

Except he was married now and standing on the bank was his wife.

‘Don’t let her aboard,’ Yang said beneath his breath.

Daiyu looked at him with surprise. ‘She looks like a poor lost kitten.’

Jin-mei looked nothing of the sort. She stood with a travel pack slung around her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair fought against its pins. His heart did a little lurch as their gazes locked. The hard set of her jaw warned him that he was in trouble.

This was no coincidence. She’d followed him. Immediately, he scanned the surrounding area. What could Jin-mei possibly be doing out here alone?

Despite his warning, Lady Daiyu beckoned her aboard. ‘Come up, Little Sister! What brings you here?’

Jin-mei was out of breath by the time she ascended the gangplank, but she wiped her brow and straightened her shoulders.

‘Mistress, I wish to buy passage aboard your ship.’

She had assessed, quite correctly, that Lady Daiyu was the one in command and not the burly Kenji who had come to stand beside her.

‘Where do you wish to go, Young Miss?’

‘Wherever you’re destined.’ Jin-mei flashed a sideways glance at Yang before returning her attention to the lady captain. ‘I hope that this will be sufficient as fare.’

She produced a bolt of green silk from her travel pack and extended it to Daiyu, who looked it over without touching it.

‘This is very fine quality. Quite expensive. Are you certain that passage aboard this ship is worth so much?’

Daiyu barely held back her amusement as Jin-mei fidgeted. ‘I don’t want to waste more time negotiating.’

For all her boldness, the girl was staring nervously at the rough characters around her. Yang was tempted to go and put a protective arm around her, but she was still Tan Li Kuo’s daughter and no amount of wide-eyed innocence would make him forget that the magistrate was dangerous.

‘Miss,’ Yang began evenly, ‘this ship is not where you want to be.’

Her eyes narrowed on him. They were lovely, expressive eyes that spoke louder than words. They told him that she blamed him for all that had happened. That somehow, he had abandoned her.

‘This is exactly where I should be,’ she said coolly. Then to Lady Daiyu, ‘I wish to avoid the local authorities, and this ship has some experience doing so, I believe.’

‘And why do you need to flee?’ Daiyu asked gamely.

‘I was married to a man who wasn’t what he seemed,’ Jin-mei replied, shoving a strand of hair away from her eyes. She was certainly growing bolder as the conversation progressed. ‘I didn’t wish to be his wife any longer, so I had him killed.’

Yang nearly choked at that. Lady Daiyu and Kenji burst into laughter.

‘Welcome then, Little Sister.’ Daiyu tucked the bolt of silk beneath her arm and directed Nan to take her to a sleeping berth. Jin-mei shot him a pointed look before disappearing below deck.

Yang waited until he was alone with Daiyu once more before speaking. ‘She’s lying.’

‘Seducing girls from good homes now, Yang? Did she become so smitten with you that she killed her husband?’

He was about to protest that he was her husband, but that wouldn’t serve any purpose. Especially when he was trying to convince Daiyu to evict Jin-mei from her ship.

‘Her father is the head magistrate in Minzhou. He’ll be looking for her.’

‘Even more reason to keep her on board. It’s obvious she has been pursuing you. If I let her go, she’s likely to lead the magistrate to us.’

He gave her the evil eye. ‘I suspect you’re siding with her because she’s a woman.’

‘Think what you will. I’m allowing her to stay because she’s paid me quite handsomely.’ She patted the roll of green silk beneath her arm and gave the order to lift anchor. ‘And I could hide ten runaways on board and it wouldn’t be as dangerous as harbouring one Bao Yang.’

* * *

The girl who called herself Nan led Jin-mei down into the lower deck to the sleeping area. She continued along to the far end.

‘More privacy here,’ Nan explained.

The berth looked like a low shelf built into the wall of the ship. There was a small window cut high above the sleeping area to let light and air through. Other than that, the sleeping quarters were dim. At the other end of the deck, Jin-mei could see several men lounging. They looked ragged, unkempt, lawless and unruly.

When evening came, she would be sleeping inside a ship full of strange men. Jin-mei shuddered at the thought.

‘I can bring you a curtain, Miss. So you don’t have everyone staring at you.’

Nan watched her as Jin-mei eyed the crew suspiciously. The girl looked no more than fourteen years of age, though her eyes seemed older. If this tiny reed of a girl could survive on board, then surely this ship wasn’t such a frightening place. Jin-mei thanked her, and Nan promptly turned and wove her way back to the upper deck.

She had done it.

Jin-mei finally let out a breath. She had run away. She had reunited with Yang and was on a ship that would take her far from her father’s lies and schemes.

But she no longer had a home. A lump formed in her throat. She no longer had a father either.

Broken and exhausted, Jin-mei climbed on to the berth and tucked her belongings into the far corner. There wasn’t a lot in the pack she’d bundled up. Jin-mei didn’t have much of a plan beyond her escape. She’d brought what little money she possessed, and only a single change of clothes. It had been hard to leave Lady Yi and her brothers, but fleeing was easier than having to face her father.

In the space of one afternoon, he’d completely changed in her eyes. And he’d taken the entire life she knew away with him. Suddenly she was trapped in a lie.

He was a corrupt official. A murderer—well, an attempted murderer since Yang wasn’t dead. But how many other crimes had her father been involved in? How many times had she been fooled by his talk of justice?

Jin-mei hooked her arms around her knees and let her head sink on to her arms. There was a slight lurch as the boat began moving along the current. Gradually, she accustomed herself to the feeling of being adrift. She closed her eyes and willed the answers to come to her. What was she going to do now? What next?

‘I’m curious.’

Jin-mei jumped up, startled. Yang stood beside the berth with a bundle of cloth beneath his arm. He didn’t appear angry at her, or startled the way he had been when she’d first set foot on the ship. As usual, he maintained a steady, slightly bemused expression. She wondered if he always masked his emotions so perfectly.

‘I’m curious as to whether you were involved in your father’s scheme,’ he continued as he draped the sheet over a set of hooks around the sleeping area.

‘No, I wasn’t,’ she murmured. ‘I thought you were dead. I...I mourned.’

He paused with his back to her and his arms raised to attach the curtain. She watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he let out a breath. ‘It would probably be best if you went on with your life as if I were dead.’

‘It would be best for me never to know the truth?’

It was still a shock to see him alive, but it only proved beyond a doubt her father had tricked her. She was still dressed in her pale mourning robe. The rough cloth scratched against her skin.

‘Do you know why he wanted me gone?’ Bao Yang’s eyes were cold when he turned to face her.

Jin-mei shifted uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know anything about my father any more.’

Yang remained standing while she sat, staring at her hands. With the curtain in place, they were alone for the first time since their wedding. She could feel her pulse skipping as he continued to stare at her.

‘How did you possibly find me, Miss Tan?’

‘I saw you outside the drinking house yesterday,’ she explained, surprised at how casual they both sounded. ‘I knew you’d come by the river and would be looking to leave the same way.’

‘Ah, that simple.’ He sat down on the berth opposite hers. It was obvious Yang didn’t want her here, but presently his demeanour was cordial, even pleasant. ‘You didn’t run into any trouble travelling alone from the city?’

‘I’m dressed as a widow and apparently widows are considered the most unfortunate creatures on this earth. No one troubled me at all.’

‘Impressive. But I could have guessed from the moment I met you that you would be resourceful.’

‘Why do you say that?’

He smiled. ‘Because of the way you lured me beneath that bridge.’

‘I didn’t.’

Well, she hadn’t lured him, but she hadn’t exactly been beguiled by him either. Jin-mei had done exactly what she wanted, just as she was doing now by tagging along after him.

‘Can you swim?’ Yang asked suddenly.

‘No.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘Oh.’

She stared at him across the sleeping berth. He seemed a bit disappointed, crestfallen even.

‘You were thinking of throwing me overboard!’ she accused.

‘Of course not.’

‘If I could swim safely to shore, then you would be absolved of all guilt.’

He made a face as he inspected his nails, but gave no answer.

‘You’re a scoundrel,’ she huffed.

He nodded gravely. ‘I know. You should leave me. Preferably at the next port.’

Jin-mei wanted very much to have something to throw at him. ‘I’m curious as well,’ she replied, in not nearly as pleasant of a tone. ‘You don’t seem very upset at having your life threatened. Did you and my father conspire to fake your death? Was our marriage a ruse from the beginning?’

Yang frowned. ‘I was quite convinced we were married.’ He smoothed a hand over the front of his robe. ‘I remember looking forward eagerly to our wedding night until your father tried to kill me.’

She let out a shaky breath. It was all her father’s doing then. She hadn’t been absolutely certain of it until now. Father had hosted the wedding to fool her as well as Yang. He was not a diligent and honest public servant, nor was he the caring and doting father she’d assumed he was.

‘Jin-mei, why are you here?’ Yang asked, watching her with a serious expression.

‘You’re my husband,’ she replied, her tone flat. ‘I go where you go.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

She looked away from him, towards the wall. ‘What if you had been taught from birth that honesty and truth were more important than air and water? What if you had been told there was no sacrifice too great to make for the pursuit of justice? And then one day you found out everything was a lie. Could you stay and pretend that you didn’t know?’

With a shuddering breath, she tried to compose herself as the tears threatened to fall. Maybe some small part of her needed to remember what it had been like to be that trusting. To be that innocent. That warm and sheltered place could still exist in her heart, but only if she left it behind. Intact.

‘We were both his puppets,’ Bao Yang said soberly.

But the difference was she was his daughter. She could never go back and could never see her father again. Because the moment he opened his mouth, she would now know his words meant nothing and what was left of her fragile world would completely shatter.

‘This isn’t simple,’ she echoed. ‘This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made.’

For a long moment, he said nothing. She thought that he might have moved closer to her. She could feel heat rising up the back of her neck at the thought of the two of them being alone together.

‘The world of rivers and lakes is a dangerous place,’ he warned.

‘I’ve made my decision,’ Jin-mei said stubbornly, her voice thick with emotion. It hurt to see the world in this harsh new light. ‘So rivers and lakes are what it will be from now on.’

Pulling a spare robe out from her pack, she rolled it to create a pillow and lay down. The lurch of the water kept her from truly resting, and Yang was silent for a long time as he watched her.

‘I am very exhausted myself,’ he said finally, stretching out on his berth.

‘You’re staying here?’

He turned just enough to regard her with one eye. ‘Of course I am. You’re my wife and we’re among dangerous individuals.’

She rolled on to her back, staring up at the ceiling while her heart thudded inside her chest. They were only husband and wife in name, and only barely that. Their marriage had not been consummated.

Not too long ago, she had dreamt about being wed to this dashing and successful associate of her father’s. The handsome young man with the laughing eyes and the crooked nose. It might very well have been a mistake to follow him, but where else was she to go? A woman belonged to her father first and then her husband. But more importantly, she couldn’t stay knowing what she knew about her father. She’d rather risk the danger of bandits and thieves than bite her tongue and pretend that she was still ignorant.

This is an adventure, Jin-mei told herself firmly. One that she hoped she wouldn’t regret.

Chapter Six

Jin-mei woke up lying on her back, stiff and unable to move. Where was she? She was confused until the lap of the water against the hull reminded her she was on a river ship.

Rolling on to her side, she saw the berth next to hers was empty. At first she was afraid to venture outside the curtain. She could hear the sounds of the crew moving about on deck. Everyone was in motion, going about their duties, while she alone was sitting still and waiting for—

She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. All she knew was that a proper young lady should probably remain secluded and out of sight of strangers.

After an hour of being proper, she poked her head outside the curtain. The berths were empty and she wandered through the deck. The girl Nan intercepted her at the foot of the stairs.

‘Miss, the morning meal is already finished,’ she scolded.

With that, the girl beckoned for Jin-mei to follow while she moved on nimble feet through the corridor. The galley and kitchen were located towards the front of the ship. Nan disappeared inside and, after some shouting, returned with a bowl of rice porridge.

‘Remember, the first bell always rings at daybreak.’ She thrust the bowl into Jin-mei’s hands before hurrying off.

Back in her berth, Jin-mei ate alone with the curtain drawn. The rice porridge was thick and flavored with a salted egg. Though it was a simple meal, she took her time finishing it. There was nothing to do once she was done. Loneliness set in like a thick fog around her.

There was no use wallowing in regret. She had left home because she had to. This emptiness would fade with time. She finished her meal and climbed the steps on to the top deck.

Sunlight flooded all around her. A strong breeze filled the sails, and the shore was no more than a sliver in the distance on either side.

A group of crewmen were lined up on the deck and armed with bamboo poles. They appeared to be running through fighting drills, executing strikes and blocks. The eastern barbarian, Kenji, led the men through the exercise while Lady Daiyu watched from the prow.

All around her, everyone had a place and a purpose, either adjusting the ropes on the sails or cleaning the deck. Jin-mei had paid for her passage and could hardly be expected to engage in the upkeep of the ship, yet she found herself wishing she had some task to occupy herself.

Jin-mei took a deep breath and forced herself to approach Kenji. His shadow engulfed her and his hands looked large enough to crush rock.

‘May I practise with you, Master Kenji?’ she asked.

It was a ridiculous request, but she was in a strange predicament. At first the foreigner didn’t even acknowledge her request. It was like speaking to the silent mountains.

‘Miss, this is not for show.’ He turned his back to her to watch over the drills. ‘We are training here.’

Her first inclination was to disappear back into the sleeping quarters and spend the day with a needle and thread, something familiar to her, to calm her nerves. But if she was going to survive outside the four walls of her father’s house, she would need to be stronger and bolder. She straightened her shoulders, taking what little extra height it gave her.

‘The world of rivers and lakes is a dangerous place,’ she said, echoing Yang’s words. ‘I want to learn how to defend myself.’

Kenjii laughed. Rudely. ‘What do you know about rivers and lakes?’

‘Be hospitable to our guest.’

The lady captain spoke from the other end of the deck. Yang was at Daiyu’s side and he leaned in to tell her something. A knot formed in Jin-mei’s stomach at the sight of the two of them standing so closely. The knot pulled tighter as the other woman approached.

Daiyu held out her hand to one of the crewmen and he surrendered his staff to her. She turned the bamboo around in her hands, as if testing its weight, before holding it out to Jin-mei. Tentatively, Jin-mei closed her hands around the pole and tried to mimic how the men were holding it. Yang met her eyes with an amused expression on his face, before turning to look out over the water.

She felt better without him watching. After a brief show of protectiveness the day before, he now seemed to mock her with every look. Lady Daiyu stood beside her, keeping her apart from the men as she corrected Jin-mei’s grip on the staff.

‘Hands at shoulder-width,’ Daiyu instructed. ‘Not too wide. It feels more natural that way, does it not?’

Nothing about this felt natural. Jin-mei was standing with the wind blowing around her, the sun beating down on her head, while surrounded by strangers. And she had never held a weapon in her life, not even a kitchen knife.

Before she could learn how to fight, she apparently had to learn how to stand. While the men swung and blocked and parried, all she did was stand there with her shoulders back and knees bent, holding the staff up in front of her.

Even standing still was a challenge. She had to steady herself against the roll of the deck beneath her. Before long, the muscles in her legs and arms were burning and her forehead was damp with perspiration. She had been holding the stance for no more than twenty counts.

She felt like a fool. Not just for joining the practice session, but for everything. But it would be more embarrassing to stop now, especially when Lady Daiyu was taking the time to instruct her.

‘If your stance is not strong, your defence will crumble. Your strikes will have no power,’ Daiyu said. ‘Let us try some blocks.’

The captain retrieved another staff and turned to face her. Yang regarded them over his shoulder and even the surly Kenji stopped to watch.

Daiyu led her through a drill, repeating the same blow while Jin-mei deflected. With each repetition, Jin-mei gained more confidence in the way her body moved. The tiredness receded as her muscles warmed and she stopped thinking about everyone else, blocking out the curious stares of the crew and even Yang’s smug look.

‘Don’t get lost in the rhythm,’ Daiyu warned. ‘Stay focused.’

Jin-mei winced as Daiyu struck her upper arm with the bamboo. It hurt!

Daiyu altered the pattern, moving slowly and deliberately so Jin-mei would have time to react. Gradually she increased their speed until the techniques flowed naturally. The captain was light on her feet, graceful as well as powerful. How freeing it must be to be able to move like that, with such control and precision.

‘What are you looking at?’ Daiyu’s weapon came down fast. Jin-mei parried at the last moment, with her staff lengthwise and her full weight braced behind it.

‘Your eyes,’ Jin-mei replied, breathing hard.

That was what Father had always said, wasn’t it? The eyes revealed what the mind was hiding.

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