The Hidden Blade (31 page)

“Many thanks, Bai Gu-niang. I’ll set aside some sweet walnut soup for you next time.”

Amah was on the floor of the innermost room, her arms under her, her legs still half-stuck in the cross-legged position, as if she had simply toppled over from her bed in the middle of a set of chi exercises.

“Master!” Ying-ying cried.

She ran to Amah, turned her over, and gasped at the blood on her face, her clothes, and the floor. She wiped the blood off Amah’s chin. “What happened? Who did this to you? How badly are you hurt?”

Amah’s face twisted in pain. A long moment passed before she could answer. “Get me back up into the lotus position.”

Ying-ying lifted her and put her on the bed. But Amah couldn’t hold herself in lotus position. Ying-ying settled behind Amah and held her straight by the shoulders, her knees on either side of Amah’s to keep her correctly aligned.

On a hunch, she took Amah’s wrist and felt her pulse. She didn’t know enough about to diagnose diseases, but Amah’s wildly erratic pulse was clearly indicative of severe internal ills. “What’s the matter? Has your chi gone all awry?”

Practitioners of exterior martial arts, like the lordlings’ instructor, at most risked injury to skin and sinew. But those who delved into the interior arts, who sought to harness their chi, treaded a much more precarious path.

The more one manipulated and strengthened one’s chi, the greater care one must take to keep it under control. The masters understood the challenge and were always diligent. But sometimes mishaps could not be avoided. A serious injury, such as the one Amah had sustained, could wreak havoc on chi: fragment the flow, damage the channels, and make it forever afterward difficult to control.

“Put your hand between my shoulder blades,” Amah whispered hoarsely. “Guide my chi, if you can.”

Amah had done it for Ying-ying before, when Ying-ying had minor troubles with circulating her chi fluidly. She had simply put her hand on Ying-ying back and, with a small infusion of her own chi, solved the problem.

Ying-ying bit her bottom lip. She put her hand where Amah told her to—and groaned. It was a catastrophe. No wonder Amah had spewed blood. Her chi rampaged like an angry beast. At the thought of having to tame
that
, Ying-ying’s palms shook.

Gingerly she pushed a trickle of her chi into Amah’s system, praying to all the gods and bodhisattvas that she knew what she was doing. She didn’t. Not at all. This task was beyond her meager skills.

But she hadn’t counted on Amah’s expertise. As the new flow entered, Amah used it to calm and nudge her own chi into a more regular circulation.

“Don’t stop until I tell you, or you might kill me.”

Ying-ying perspired. The pressure of the situation made her eyes bulge and her teeth chatter.
Concentrate, concentrate
, she told herself.
Breathe. Pretend this is nothing more than a regular morning chi exercise. Keep your own internal flow fluent. Keep it up. Keep it up. Don’t falter now. Don’t kill her. Whatever you do, don’t kill her
.

An aeon passed before Amah said, “Remove your hand.”

Ying-ying felt as empty as if all her marrow had been sucked out of her. She staggered off the bed, peeled off Amah’s bloody clothes, put her in something clean, laid her down, and drew a cover over her. Next she put a few of Amah’s medicine balls in a clay pot. While the brew simmered, she washed the soiled clothes and scrubbed the floor.

When the medicine was ready, she brought it in a bowl to the bed. “Are you feeling better, Master?”

“I’ll live,” Amah rasped.

Ying-ying fed her a spoonful of the medicine. “What happened?”

Amah sighed. “I’ve been having trouble with my chi for a while—ever since that bounty hunter. I was in no shape to fight him. If only I’d been able to shake him loose…”

That was why Amah had looked sickly ever since. Ying-ying was ashamed that she had never guessed.

“Things were going badly today,” Amah went on, “I could barely hang on. I wanted to bring my chi back to center and quit, but couldn’t, so I had to keep battling with it. I had no idea how long it was taking—I was concentrating hard. And then that lackey came with lunch. My concentration broke when he began banging on the door.”

Ying-ying bitterly regretted the quality liquor she had given Po. She should have kicked him instead.

She fed Amah some more of the medicine. “Will you recover?”

Amah sighed again. “I don’t know. The only way to find out is to go on a long retreat.”

“You should do it. You can do it right here. I’ll stay home and make sure nobody disturbs you.”

“It isn’t possible here,” Amah said. “I cannot simply disappear for three months. People will ask questions.”

Three months! “Then you should go away for that much time,” Ying-ying said with a bravery she did not feel.

“I can’t do that either. Not immediately, anyway.”

“But you just can’t let your condition drag on.”

Amah drank nearly the entire bowl of medicine before she pushed it away. “You don’t worry. A fortune-teller once told me that if I can live past forty, I’ll live to eighty.”

That comforted Ying-ying more than she thought possible. “I’ll make you some porridge.”

It wasn’t till later in the afternoon that she realized Amah hadn’t turned forty yet—and wouldn’t do so for another six months.

Chapter 20

Departure

“Bai Gu-niang. Bai Gu-niang. Bai Gu-niang is so hard to find.”

Ying-ying hated that voice. It belonged to Big Treasure, Shao-ye’s most loyal lackey. He leered at her.

Now, on days when she had her English lessons, Big Treasure and another lackey, Little Bull, waited for her to come out of Master Gordon’s rooms. And sometimes they caught her.

“Why are Master Keepers looking for me?” She kept walking. They put themselves to either side of her.

“Always for the same reason, of course. Young Master misses you. He can’t eat or sleep for the love of you.”

“Master Keeper exaggerates. I hear Young Master hosted a feast in the Pavilion of Dainty Blossoms only three days ago.” What better way for the young profligate to celebrate a night of freedom, with Da-ren away on court business, than to carouse and debauch in one of Peking’s premier houses of pleasure?

Big Treasure didn’t miss a beat. “It was for the sake of appearance. He sighed and pined for you all night. Didn’t he, Little Bull?”

“He did. I felt really sorry for him,” Little Bull came in right on cue.

“So won’t you come with us to see him?” the elder lackey beseeched, his tone oily. “He’d be so happy if Bai Gu-niang only had a kind word for him.”

“I’m afraid not. My amah is most strict, on Da-ren’s instruction.”

“Your amah wouldn’t know.”

“She has her eyes on the clock when it’s time for me to arrive home.”

Ying-ying turned a corner. Big Treasure kept on her, but Little Bull ran off in a different direction—no doubt to inform Shao-ye that they had caught her en route.

For some reason, Shao-ye was intimidated by Amah. After two attempts to see Ying-ying in her courtyard, he had stopped. And Amah had smiled, too, while denying him any privilege that would conflict with the proper upbringing of a young woman. If Ying-ying could make her way home, she was safe. She wished Amah would accompany her. But Amah, ever fearful of being discovered by the unknown martial artist who had injured her, was reluctant to venture far afield from their own courtyard.

“Bai Gu-niang really is so heartless?” Big Treasure’s tone was losing its false obsequiousness.

Ying-ying said nothing. The abuses would come now. Big Treasure was nothing if not predictable.

“Bai Gu-niang can’t be so obtuse, can she? Young Master’s desire is a compliment to her. Who is he? He is a cousin to the Son of Heaven. The dowager empress herself is taken with him.

“And who are you? We don’t even know. Your mother was once a whore—that everyone knows. What’s the daughter of a whore got to be so proud about, I ask you?”

It would be so easy. One direct swipe across the face and he’d go down like a straw man. A few taps on strategic points in his body and he’d writhe as if tortured by the agents of hell. Amah was not unfamiliar with the darker side of martial arts, and neither was Ying-ying.

“If you serve Young Master well, he might ask Da-ren for you,” Big Treasure went on, oblivious to his peril. “If you go on being so obstinate and ungrateful, Da-ren might just wash his hands of you and give you to the likes of us.”

Then wouldn’t
you
have a nasty surprise coming
. But Ying-ying kept her lips tightly clamped. There was no point in saying anything back, none at all.

“Who feeds you? Who clothes you? Who gives you a roof over your head? Da-ren. And you refuse to be nice to his son. I’ve never seen such ingratitude. And from a whore’s daughter.”

And so the repetitions began. The walk was long enough that Big Treasure would repeat himself three or four times by the time Ying-ying slammed shut the gate of her courtyard in his face.

“Bai Gu-niang, please stay your step.”

Shao-ye. Ying-ying balled her hands into fists. Da-ren’s advisers kept a close eye on him these days. Most of the time, even when his lackeys could locate her, he couldn’t get away from the advisers to come pester her himself.

She should have consulted the almanac this morning. Apparently she had chosen the wrong day to step out of her front door.

She turned around and curtsied. “Young Master.”

He smiled and advanced. A wave of his hand sent Big Treasure scurrying some distance away.

“It has been too long, Bai Gu-niang. Has Bai Gu-niang been well?” He had smooth manners. Smooth manners and lascivious eyes that scanned her up and down.

“Thanks to Young Master’s blessings, this humble maid has been well.”

“Bai Gu-niang grows more beautiful with each passing day.”

“Young Master overpraises, as always.”

“Not at all, not at all.” He walked in a circle about her, inspecting her. “Such loveliness should be clothed in the finest silks and draped in the roundest pearls. I will be most honored if Bai Gu-niang permits me to supply her such trifles.”

“My fortune is thin, Young Master. I dare not aspire to such rich presents.”

“Bai Gu-niang is much too modest.” He was undeterred. “I plan to speak to my father very soon. I do not think he will refuse me this request.”

Ying-ying almost looked up. Big Treasure never neglected to mention that if she pleased Shao-ye in bed, he might raise her to an official concubine. But she had always considered that line so much deception, meant to make her think she might get more than Shao-ye’s dubious lovemaking.

“After all, he took you in, so he is responsible for you. I will convince him that once he gives you to me, I will reform my ways and devote myself to my studies. I don’t see why the solution shouldn’t appeal to him.”

She was thunderstruck. There was a certain twisted logic to Shao-ye’s reasoning. What if Da-ren indeed came to see the matter from this point of view?

“Bai Gu-niang is shy.” He moved closer and whispered in her ear. “But I can see she is secretly pleased with this idea. If we are to be united sooner or later, why not come with me today and learn a few of the pleasures of the bedchamber?”

Her nails dug into her palms. “I dare not, Young Master. My amah would beat me if I were late home.”

He lifted a braid of her hair. “Surely she will understand if you say I detained you.”

“She has her orders directly from Da-ren himself to strictly watch my every step. I’m afraid she’ll yield only when he commands differently.”

The lordling tore off an embroidered amulet sachet he wore at his waist and hurled it against the nearest wall. “Da-ren! Da-ren! My whole life I’ve had to listen to him. Everything I want, he stands in my way.”

Ying-ying took an involuntary step back. An old man came running—one of Da-ren’s advisers. “Young Master, here you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Please come back. Otherwise what will I say when Da-ren asks where you are?”

Shao-ye’s face contorted in rage. “If he asks, tell him I’m in the shithouse. Or am I not even allowed that anymore?”

The old man did not even blanch. Presumably it was not the first time he had heard such language from Shao-ye. Shao-ye hurled another string of abuses, but in the end left with the older man: It would not be wise for him to further antagonize Da-ren.

Ying-ying exhaled. She hoped Shao-ye would get caught being absent. And then Da-ren would be in no mood to listen to him ask for Ying-ying.

On the other hand, he could point out that Ying-ying had become a dire distraction for him, and that actually having her in his bedroom would be the best way to help him concentrate on more important matters.

She pressed her fingers into her temples. No wonder grown-ups had headaches. Life itself was beginning to seem one unending headache.

Amah was standing outside the gate of their courtyard, waiting for her. She took one look at Ying-ying and sighed softly. “Come in fast. Your lunch is getting cold.”

Only after Ying-ying began eating did she ask, “Young Master’s minions got hold of you today?”