Page 19 of Song of the Crimson Flower

Lan watched him struggle with barely concealed amusement. “Comfortable?”

He gritted his teeth. “Not particularly.”

“Well, at least we know you won’t lose your form while you’re in contact with me. We can’t have you falling through the boat.” Knee pressed firmly against his, she took an oar in each hand and began flailing them in the water. But despite all her effort, the boat moved only about five inches from shore.

“You’re holding them wrong. Move your hands here and rotate the paddles more slowly,” he told her. “Push them both at the same time. Your shoulders should be moving forward.”

After a few more tries, she got the gist and managed to propel the boat several feet down the river, looking pleased with herself. But Bao saw that her rowing was already getting weaker. At this rate, they would arrive in time to die of old age. She panted, brushing a lock of shining hair out of her eyes and looking elegant even in her plain clothing. There was something about the way nobles carried themselves, Bao thought. Every move they made and every word they spoke indicated that the world belonged to them, while people like him struggled from birth to death and would never be good enough. He had been mad to think Lan could ever love him.

“All right, that’s enough,” Bao said curtly, his irritation rising once more. “Otherwise you’ll be in a lot of pain later, and there won’t be any servants to give you a massage.”

She lifted her eyebrows at his tone, but handed the oars over without argument and rose to switch seats with him. The vessel rocked with her movement, and Bao was forced to give her his hand to keep her from toppling overboard. Her braid tickled his face, smelling ofhoa mai, and the memory of kissing the yellow flowers she had thrown was so overpowering he had to catch his breath. He took her vacated seat and began to row, trying with all of his might to think about something, anything else.

“I always thought the river witch was a silly folktale,” she said conversationally. “Something my grandmother told me whenever she wanted me to behave.”

“Not everything is about you,” Bao said, before he could bite back the comment.

Lan looked at him, her lips curving downward. “You don’t have to be so unpleasant.”

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled. “I just... I don’t know how to behave towardyou anymore. I didn’t think I would ever have to see you again after what happened. I need time.”

“It was one moment, Bao. One mistake. It doesn’t shape my character.”

“It shaped mine,” he said, so low he wasn’t sure if she had heard him. He tried to keep his gaze on the quiet huts along the river, but his eyes kept wanting to return to her. She had turned away, giving him a perfect view of her profile: soft, long-lashed eyes, an endearingly flat nose, and full lips. He had spent eight years memorizing her face from afar, and now she was here with him—but not in any way his lovesick self had dreamed. “Why did you love him?”

Lan’s eyes snapped back to him. “What?”

Heat rushed into Bao’s face when he realized he had asked the question out loud. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t want to talk about Tam,” he muttered, and then wanted to kick himself for saying the name when it had upset her earlier.

She was silent for so long that he thought she wouldn’t answer. “Because I thought he was perfect,” she said at last. “He was exactly the kind of person my parents hoped I would marry, and the first boy who ever paid attention to me. He liked me, once. He gave me gifts and wrote me messages.” She angled a glance at Bao. “He even played me songs on his flute.”

“But that was years ago,” Bao said, frustrated. “Despite all the notes and gifts, you must have sensed that he had lost interest when he stopped visiting. And still you thought he cared enough to come to you on the river every night.” He looked at her, but she kept her eyes on the dark shapes of the limestone mountains, her shoulders tense.Good, I can rattle her the way she does me, he thought, then felt ashamed of his own childish satisfaction.

Lan’s lips tightened. “Let’s just get to the witch, all right? We don’t need to talk.”

“You were the one who started the conversation.” He tried not to flinch at the glare she gave him. “I’m sorry. I really am grateful that you’re coming to help me.”

“Thank you for saying so,” she said loftily.

They both fell silent, and Bao tried to concentrate on rowing. The faster he got them to the witch, the less time he would have to spend in this mire of confusion—this mingled anger and shame, this inability to stop feeling Lan’s hand pressed over his heart. But it was just as Lan had said: the fact that they were stuck sitting so close together on this boat was helping to stave off the curse. He felt no phantom tug beneath his heart, no unbearable lightness. He thought again of the witch’s eyes on his birthmark. It was so much easier to dismiss her as a ranting, confused woman than to accept that she had been telling the truth: that all this time, his family—hismother—had been alive. They simply hadn’t wanted him.

“It would be nice if you could stop thinking terrible things about me,” Lan said.

Bao blinked and came out of his reverie. “I’m not thinking terrible things about you.”

“You’re glowering. I canhearyou thinking them.”

He tried to give her a derisive snort, but ended up inducing a coughing fit.

She watched him thump his chest, amused. “And do me the courtesy of responding when I speak, instead of making noises like an outraged farm animal.”

“Is a farm animal more highly ranked than a peasant?” Bao asked, before he could help himself. Why, why, why couldn’t he stop jabbing at her? He wished he could go back to being shy, tripping over his feet, and dropping things in her presence.

Lan threw her hands up. “You stubborn ox! Stop reminding me of what I said that day.”

“I can’t forget it. It pains me to think I could spend my whole life working until my back broke, and people like you and Madam Huynh would still look down on me.”

“That isn’t fair. Don’t assume that what she thinks is what I think.” She crossed her arms. “Ba admires you, and he taught me well. I’ve never looked down on you.”

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