Silver Phoenix

7

Ai Ling climbed down the narrow stairs. She found Bao Er in the tavern standing beside a young man who looked familiar. She didn’t truly believe Chen Yong would return, yet she hadn’t expected a strange male caller, either. He was dressed in a black silk robe. Three silver pearls served as buttons on the stiff collar. Bao Er stared at him, his head tilted, reminding her of sparrows she had sketched.

“Mistress Wen?”

Ai Ling nodded, completely taken off guard.

“I’m Tan Hai Ou. I have a letter for you from my father.”

Her pulse quickened. “Is Fei Ming all right?”

“My older brother is doing well.” He pulled a scroll from his robe sleeve and began to unfurl it.

“I can read it.”

Hai Ou masked his surprise in an instant and proffered the scroll.

The message was short. Fei Ming insists that I apologize for my harsh words. He tells me you saved his life. Please come by at your earliest convenience.

The letter was signed by Master Tan with his stamp in red below it. She rolled up the scroll.

“Please tell your father I’ll come today.”

Hai Ou bowed and stepped out of the inn. Bao Er had listened to the entire exchange with interest.

“Master Tan has the grandest manor in the city, miss. I hear he has a fish pond with fish this big!” The boy threw his arms out wide.

Ai Ling laughed. “I’ll ask to see it this time and let you know.”

Bao Er beamed up at her. “Do you still want that hot bath you asked for two days ago, miss?”

“Two days ago?” she said, confused.

“You slept through the afternoon and all yesterday. I kept looking in because your bathwater was getting cold.” Bao Er shifted from one foot to the other. “Auntie said I better wake you when the master came ’cause it might be important. Also to make sure you weren’t dead.” The boy nodded in earnest.

She’d slept two days away?

“A hot bath would be wonderful. But first, what’s good to eat from the kitchen?”

Bao Er’s face lit up like a festival lantern. “Oh, the braised pork with rice is my favorite. With a tea-stewed egg.”

He dashed back to the kitchen, and Ai Ling settled down at a small bamboo table in anticipation of a much-needed hot meal. Refreshed from the hot bath and home-cooked meal, Ai Ling stepped out onto the street with renewed energy. It felt strange not to have Chen Yong by her side. She pushed the thought away, chided herself for being so easily dependent. She never truly knew him, even if it felt otherwise.

She found the Tan manor. The red-paper door gods remained, but she noticed new slips of paper plastered on the thick panel—bold characters she did not recognize, written in black calligraphy.

She knocked on the door, and Hai Ou greeted her with a slight bow. He was not as tall as his father, but he held himself in the same dignified manner.

“My father is waiting for you in Fei Ming’s quarters,” he said.

She followed his straight back through the manor, across a courtyard and past halls she had not entered during her last visit. Hai Ou finally stepped inside a reception hall.

Brocaded cushions in a rich emerald rested on four carved chairs with arched backs and curved armrests. Landscape paintings spanned the width of each wall, framed in a delicate celadon silk. Sunlight glinted off the gold accents in the room—an oval vase displaying fragrant red roses, a cinnabar serving tray inlaid with gold designs. The reception room opened into Fei Ming’s bedchamber. The lattice doors were pushed aside, allowing a full view.

“Ai Ling, you’ve returned. We are grateful.” Master Tan stepped across the threshold to take her hand in his. “How’s your health?”

She studied the genteel hands that clasped hers and was too embarrassed to pull away. “I slept for a long while. I’m better. How is Fei Ming?”

“I’m well, thanks to you.” Fei Ming spoke from within his bedchamber. Ai Ling peered past Master Tan’s shoulder and saw the young man smile. Anxiety twisted her stomach. She managed a weak twitch of her mouth.

“Please come in.” Fei Ming indicated a rosewood stool next to his bed.

Ai Ling perched herself on it. Master Tan sat on the other side of the bed in a carved rosewood chair.

Fei Ming looked well. Completely different from the individual who had slouched with his head down, unwilling to meet her gaze when they were first introduced. Completely different from the man with crazed eyes and guttural voice who had attacked her. His dark, wide-set eyes were clear, the eyebrows above, strong and expressive. She felt foolish for her fear but could not look him in the face.

“I don’t recall much from the other night, but I knew that I was not in full possession of my own mind or body.”

Deep lines etched both sides of Master Tan’s generous mouth as he listened to his son speak.

“I told Father as much and as best as I can remember. The part that I do know with clarity is when you came and laid your hands on me. I was barely conscious, it hurt to breathe—there wasn’t enough in each breath. But you healed me.”

Ai Ling stared at her hands, not knowing what to say. “It was a strange and awful night. I’m sorry that . . . you were hurt.”

Hurt by me.

Fei Ming smiled at her. “Father, don’t you have something to give to my heroine?”

Ai Ling blanched. This was too awkward, the situation too twisted about.

“Ah, yes. I’ll get it.” Master Tan stepped from the room.

She shifted on the stool, clutched her damp palms together, anxious that she was alone with Fei Ming again.

“Don’t worry. Hai Ou is in the adjacent hall,” Fei Ming said.

Embarrassed that her discomfort was so obvious, she opened her mouth to apologize. Fei Ming interrupted with a shake of his head. “You remember it all. I recall little.”

They sat without speaking for a few moments, the melodic twittering of the songbirds filling the silence. “Are you seriously injured?” she finally managed.

He shook his head, his eyebrows lifted in amusement. “The physician said I’m in perfect health. The dried blood on me worried everyone, but I was fine. Father assigned me to bed rest.” He smiled, lighting his face with boyish charm. “I’ll be an invalid today for his peace of mind.”

She was unable to match his good humor. She needed to tell him the truth. Her stomach knotted, anticipating his reaction. “I have something to confess.” She fidgeted on the stool, looked at her worn cloth shoes. “I was responsible for hurting you.” Ai Ling met his gaze for the first time.

Fei Ming did not look angry. He tilted his head in puzzlement.

“I think I have some sort of protective spirit with me,” she said. “I can’t control it.”

His face relaxed, and he examined her with a look of understanding. “I know what it’s like not to be in control of yourself. You’re no more at fault for what happened than I am.”

Relief rose within her. She gave a wan smile in gratitude. Fei Ming studied her until she grew uncomfortable once more.

“How did you do it?” he asked.

Ai Ling considered the question before she answered. “I don’t truly understand it myself.”

He picked at the embroidered quilt with restless fingers. “Please don’t tell my father about your protective spirit. He’s a superstitious man and may not understand.”

Master Tan returned to the bedchamber before she could reply. He held a bundle of papers wrapped neatly with dark blue ribbon. “These are letters from Chen Yong’s father. We searched, but we couldn’t find him. I regret my harsh words.”

“Master Tan, I . . . Chen Yong and I have gone our separate ways. I’ll not see him again.”

“Nonsense. Chen Yong was as worried for you as I was for Fei Ming when we discovered you were both missing. You have the best chance of meeting him again and giving him this. Please, if you will.”

Ai Ling didn’t know what else to say and accepted the bundle.

“And for you, a small gift. A token of our appreciation for saving my eldest son.” Master Tan handed Ai Ling a long blackwood box. She opened the lid and blinked with shock. Nestled within emerald satin rested a dagger, its blade the length of her hand. The short ivory hilt was encrusted with red jewels, the butt of it covered in gold.

“This is beautiful, Master Tan. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Thank me by taking it to the Ping Peaks and my friend Lao Pan. He can bless it for you, as you’re the rightful owner. It will protect you in the future from evil spirits,” Master Tan said, his face intent.

“What’s this, Father? I thought we were giving Ai Ling a pretty bracelet or ring. A weapon is no gift for a young woman,” Fei Ming said. He spoke what she was too polite to say.

Master Tan removed the dagger from the box, held it by its exquisite hilt. The sharp blade caught the sun and scattered diamonds of light across the bedchamber walls.

“I don’t give such a dangerous weapon without much consideration, son.” He placed the dagger in a black leather scabbard and handed it to Ai Ling. He indicated that she should put it on. She strapped the thin belt around her waist. It felt strange, yet comforting.

“You’re both young and naive to the mysteries of our world—the wonder and danger that lurk outside our doorsteps, and sometimes within.” His gaze swept them both. “What happened the other night was horrific. We can’t know why either of you were targeted. Lao Pan blessed our home yesterday. You’ll need protection, too, Ai Ling.”

“If Lao Pan is not too far . . .”

“His home is on the way to the Palace,” Master Tan said. “It would give me great peace of mind if you met with him.” He clasped her shoulder with a warmth that made her think of Father, made her long for her own family. “Chen Yong told me about your search for your father. The fame of his intelligence, wise counsel, and kindness traveled far.”

Embarrassed, Ai Ling knew full well that her father’s infamy traveled even further.

As if reading her thoughts, Master Tan said, “I don’t believe that anyone but an honest and brilliant man can raise a daughter like you, Ai Ling.”

She could only nod.

“Will you rest here tonight?” Master Tan asked.

“Thank you, but no. I’ve already tarried long enough. I must find my father.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure you’re given the best provisions for the rest of your journey. Please at least share a midday meal with us before you leave.”

Ai Ling could never refuse a good meal, and agreed, smiling. It was a feast more than a midday meal. Master Tan must have asked his chef to prepare the best. Ai Ling could not recall a time that she had indulged in dishes this extravagant: roasted pheasant, tender spring vegetables, handpulled longevity noodles, spotted porcelain river crabs, and emperor lobsters, named for their large size—dish after dish was brought to the table.

At the end of the meal, Master Tan stood to give a toast. “Ai Ling, we wanted to send you off with a full stomach. May you never go hungry, even during your travels.”

At this, a servant entered bearing a package wrapped in dark cloth and handed it to Master Tan. The older man opened it to reveal many small sacks tied with hemp rope. “I’ve made sure you have enough food to last you your entire journey to the Palace. And a little beyond that.” Master Tan smiled. “It’s not heavy rations. There’s salted beef, squid, dried fruits, nuts, and biscuits. Also some fresh fruit if you’re willing to carry the burden.”

Master Tan gestured for the servant, who took the provisions away. “I’ve also had a detailed map copied for your travels. It shows the best route to take to the Palace. Lao Pan’s cave is marked on it as well.”

Overwhelmed by the generosity, Ai Ling struggled for the right words. “Master Tan, I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. . . .” Her voice caught in her throat. Was Father even at the Palace?

Both Fei Ming and Master Tan saw Ai Ling to the front gate. “If ever you need anything, just ask,” Master Tan said.

She remembered Bao Er. “Could the boy who helps at the inn come and visit your gardens? He has heard that the fish in your pond are very big.”

Master Tan threw his head back and laughed. “They are indeed. We not only have fish native to Xia, but some collected from other lands. Your little friend is welcome to visit anytime.”

Ai Ling waved good-bye, her heart full. She took a detour to the inn to pick up her knapsack. Bao Er skidded to her door.

“Leaving? So soon, miss?” His thin shoulders slumped as he watched her gather her belongings.

“Yes, Bao Er. But I leave with good news. Master Tan said you can stop by and look at his fish whenever you please.”

The boy hopped about in glee before throwing his arms around her neck. “Thank you, miss! You’ll come back and visit, won’t you?”

She swallowed the knot in her throat and replied yes, not knowing if she would ever return. Her thoughts were on Chen Yong as she left the city. He blamed her for what had happened. What was the use of carrying his father’s letters when their paths would probably never cross again?