Page 23 of A Song to Drown Rivers
There was a pause. The pounding of the rain quickened like a heartbeat.
“Yes, Xishi,” he said at last, his voice pained, looking anywhere but at me. “You passed it perfectly.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rain had stopped by the time Zhengdan andLuyi moved down to join us. They were not the only ones. Now that the sky was an immaculate blue, the dark shine of water on stone and wet lick of the breeze the sole remnants of the storm, the civilians had come out with the sun. Around us, the alleys and paved roads were filling rapidly with carts, horses, merchants. It was as if the day had just begun.
“Are you all right?” Zhengdan asked, grabbing my hand.
I nodded and smiled at her. “Of course.”
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, though her voice was fierce. “That cursed turtle egg. I would have killed him if he held on a second longer.”
“I’m sure Fanli would have gotten the job done before you,” Luyi muttered.
We all turned to him. Fanli, especially, with a tightness in his expression, like a warning.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Zhengdan asked.
“Nothing,” Luyi said hastily, catching Fanli’s eye. Some silentexchange passed between the two. Whatever it was, Luyi was the first to retreat. “Don’t take anything I say to heart; I only ever spew out nonsense.”
“It’s good that you’re self-aware,” Fanli said.
Luyi beamed at him. “Yes, you’re right. You’re always right, my most honorable minister. I’m just glad we’re all here and nobody has been charged with murder.”
“I’m glad we’re here too,” Zhengdan said, nudging me with emphasis. I recognized the look on her face. It was the look she wore when she used to sneak into my house after dark to exchange stories; when she plucked the fresh plums from Old Wang’s backyard; when she fashioned poles out of branches and went fishing barefoot in the creeks, the murky waters up to her knees; when she dragged me out into the forest to show off a new sword technique she had taught herself. The look she wore when she was about to do something she knew she shouldn’t, but wanted to anyway. “Now that the weather is better, can’t we stay out a little longer? We haven’t had a break from training since we first arrived, and we’ll be gone in just three days. I barely even know what the town looks like.”
“You can see it from here,” Fanli said, waving a sleeve at the stalls on both sides of the street. A long line had started to form in front of a cart that sold fat slices of watermelon and waxberries and cherries, their firm, red-purple skin glowing in the light. Two children trotted past us, laughing, watermelon juice running down their chins, coins jingling in their purses. They must have been from noble families; only the wealthy could show such joyous carelessness in an age of war and instability. They assumed their money protected them from everything. The ultimate injustice was that sometimes it did.
“It’s not the same thing,” Zhengdan protested.
Fanli retrieved a fan from his inner robes and flipped it openwith a clean snapping sound. He waved it slowly with one hand as he spoke. “We still have three texts to go through this afternoon.”
Zhengdan turned to me, sulking like a child, and mouthed:You try.
I had always considered myself more principled than Zhengdan. But I was also the one who had held out the basket for her to throw in her stolen plums, who had opened the door at night to let her inside; I never knew how to refuse her. And so I gazed up at Fanli. “Just this once,” I said, not expecting anything to come of it. “Please.”
He hesitated. The fan in his hand went still.
“We can head back before it’s dark,” I pressed. “And when was the last time you did anything for leisure? You deserve a break too.”
Something rippled over his features, and the frost in his eyes receded as he met my gaze. I stifled my next breath. All this time I had thought his eyes to be pure black, but now I could see the warm flecks of brown, the ring of molten gold around his iris, like preserved amber, the reflection of a gleaming crown. “All right,” he said.
Luyi made a spluttering sound. I could not quite believe it myself. “All right?” he repeated, then promptly snapped his mouth shut as Fanli’s face turned to ice again. “I merely meant—I had not thought it possible to sway you on any matter.”
Fanli’s voice was dry. “Do you wish for me to change my mind?”
“No,” Luyi said in a hurry, and, as if afraid Fanli really would regret his decision, twisted on his heel to join the crowds swarming the streets. Zhengdan followed close after him, leaving me with Fanli.
A beat of silence passed between us. It felt new. Itwasnew—to have such freedom, or at least some semblance of it, the paths ahead of us open and scattered with fallen pink petals, the scent of firecracker smoke and osmanthus honey hanging in the air.
“What would you like to see?” he asked, tilting his head. There was a rare touch of uncertainty to his demeanor too. “I will follow you.”
“Really? Anywhere?”
“Anywhere,” he said.
He spoke the truth. As I pushed my way through the wagons and ran from stall to stall, he followed quietly after me, without complaint. Every time I turned around, he was there, one hand behind his arrow-straight back, the other waving his white fan so it covered the lower half of his face. And though I was surrounded by stunning sights I had never even dreamed of—rolls of glimmering fabric so soft they looked to have been spun with magic, glittering hairpins carved into the shape of butterflies and cranes with jewels for eyes, zodiac animals shaped from melted gold sugar, pastries pressed into intricate flower molds—I found myself distracted again and again by his beauty. How he walked down the street like everything else was insubstantial.
