prettiest girl in their village. But Zhong Ye had only glimpsed her beauty fleetingly when she smiled, a rarity. His siblings, with whom he had to fight for food at every meal. “There was no future there.” What would be the point of missing them? He could never return.
She nodded. “I tried my best to convince my parents to keep me, did everything I could to be useful, so I could stay. But I was a third daughter.”
She didn’t need to explain further. Her parents sold her to a brothel when she turned twelve years, and once sold, she might as well have been dead to them. They sat in silence for long moments, as she pushed the food around on her plate.
He leaned across the table and reached for her free hand. “We can be friends to each other? That is almost like family?”
Her lips parted, and she looked at him with shining eyes. Finally, she smiled. And Zhong Ye gazed at her, losing himself, until she squeezed his fingers. Only then did he remember to smile back.
He woke the next morning with a tremendous headache. Swinging his legs to the side of the platform bed, he cursed and covered his face with both hands. They had talked into the early-morning hours, until Silver Phoenix had realized the time. He had walked her back to her small quarters then. He remembered the feel of her hand in his as if he were still holding it. He opened his palm. Had they truly meandered through the silent palace holding hands?
Zhong Ye shook his head at the preposterousness of it, then winced. He’d need a tonic before he went to court. The sun indicated it was at least midday. He cursedagain. Court had already assembled, if not dispersed. Xiao Mao was crouched outside his quarters, playing with a cricket in a bamboo cage. He jumped to his feet and bowed.
Zhong Ye blocked the sun with an arm. “The herbal tonic to help ease headaches—”
“From overdrinking, master! Right away.”
Zhong Ye cringed at Xiao Mao’s loud enthusiasm but couldn’t muster the energy to reprimand him. Besides, the boy was halfway to the herbalist by now. He returned to the relative darkness of his reception hall. The table was still stacked with half-eaten dishes from the previous evening. Something on the floor caught his attention: a tortoiseshell comb decorated with plum blossoms. He brought it to his nose, breathed in.
He was startled by the abrupt slam of the door panel. Carrying a small covered bowl, Xiao Mao scrambled in. Zhong Ye tucked the comb into his robe and accepted the drink. He scrunched his face at the bitterness of the brew but felt steadier even as he took the second sip. “Be truthful, did you forget to deliver my message to Silver Phoenix?”
The boy shook his head like a dog ridding itself of fleas. “No, master. I delivered it direct to her, word forword, as you told me. I waited for her reply, and she said, ‘I’ll pretend I never heard this.’”
Zhong Ye swallowed too fast and choked. He looked at Xiao Mao and knew the boy wasn’t lying, then burst into laughter as the rest of the tonic sloshed to the floor.
CHAPTER SIX
A i Ling was preparing for bed when she heard thumping from above. Curious, she went to investigate. No longer full, the moon looked as if someone had smudged a portion of it away in a sketch. Thin wisps of cloud drifted past. The sea wasn’t especially rough, but she still had to do the awkward hip-jutting dance that came so naturally to her now as she moved across the deck. She found most of the crew near the ship’s bow, huddled in a circle around a lantern. Yam Head, a wide grin on his face, was banging on a drum. He stopped when he saw her. He was outside the group, with his back turned to the men.
“Ho! Ai Ling’s here. Join us,” Nine said. Nine was nicknamed thus because he was the ninth of fourteensiblings. He was a hard worker and always friendly and jovial. “We’ve just convinced Chen Yong to play.”
“What are you playing?” she asked.
“Pass the flower. Only we
She nodded. “I tried my best to convince my parents to keep me, did everything I could to be useful, so I could stay. But I was a third daughter.”
She didn’t need to explain further. Her parents sold her to a brothel when she turned twelve years, and once sold, she might as well have been dead to them. They sat in silence for long moments, as she pushed the food around on her plate.
He leaned across the table and reached for her free hand. “We can be friends to each other? That is almost like family?”
Her lips parted, and she looked at him with shining eyes. Finally, she smiled. And Zhong Ye gazed at her, losing himself, until she squeezed his fingers. Only then did he remember to smile back.
He woke the next morning with a tremendous headache. Swinging his legs to the side of the platform bed, he cursed and covered his face with both hands. They had talked into the early-morning hours, until Silver Phoenix had realized the time. He had walked her back to her small quarters then. He remembered the feel of her hand in his as if he were still holding it. He opened his palm. Had they truly meandered through the silent palace holding hands?
Zhong Ye shook his head at the preposterousness of it, then winced. He’d need a tonic before he went to court. The sun indicated it was at least midday. He cursedagain. Court had already assembled, if not dispersed. Xiao Mao was crouched outside his quarters, playing with a cricket in a bamboo cage. He jumped to his feet and bowed.
Zhong Ye blocked the sun with an arm. “The herbal tonic to help ease headaches—”
“From overdrinking, master! Right away.”
Zhong Ye cringed at Xiao Mao’s loud enthusiasm but couldn’t muster the energy to reprimand him. Besides, the boy was halfway to the herbalist by now. He returned to the relative darkness of his reception hall. The table was still stacked with half-eaten dishes from the previous evening. Something on the floor caught his attention: a tortoiseshell comb decorated with plum blossoms. He brought it to his nose, breathed in.
He was startled by the abrupt slam of the door panel. Carrying a small covered bowl, Xiao Mao scrambled in. Zhong Ye tucked the comb into his robe and accepted the drink. He scrunched his face at the bitterness of the brew but felt steadier even as he took the second sip. “Be truthful, did you forget to deliver my message to Silver Phoenix?”
The boy shook his head like a dog ridding itself of fleas. “No, master. I delivered it direct to her, word forword, as you told me. I waited for her reply, and she said, ‘I’ll pretend I never heard this.’”
Zhong Ye swallowed too fast and choked. He looked at Xiao Mao and knew the boy wasn’t lying, then burst into laughter as the rest of the tonic sloshed to the floor.
CHAPTER SIX
A i Ling was preparing for bed when she heard thumping from above. Curious, she went to investigate. No longer full, the moon looked as if someone had smudged a portion of it away in a sketch. Thin wisps of cloud drifted past. The sea wasn’t especially rough, but she still had to do the awkward hip-jutting dance that came so naturally to her now as she moved across the deck. She found most of the crew near the ship’s bow, huddled in a circle around a lantern. Yam Head, a wide grin on his face, was banging on a drum. He stopped when he saw her. He was outside the group, with his back turned to the men.
“Ho! Ai Ling’s here. Join us,” Nine said. Nine was nicknamed thus because he was the ninth of fourteensiblings. He was a hard worker and always friendly and jovial. “We’ve just convinced Chen Yong to play.”
“What are you playing?” she asked.
“Pass the flower. Only we
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