Page 33 of Song of the Crimson Flower

She gave an emphatic nod, and Bao let out a weary chuckle.

“I’m constantly thinking about everything I’ll never get to do once the curse takes hold. I’m torn between believing my mother is a villain, like everyone says, and wanting to know what it’s like to have family at last. And then there’s you. I have no idea how to treat you.”

“Like a human being?” she suggested tartly.

“But you were neverjustthat to me,” Bao said, blushing. “You were special. And then you told me I had never meant anything to you, andthenyou vowed to help me, and now you’re around all the time and I can’t be alone to think because you’re always there. I have to hold on to my anger because it keeps me safe.”

“Safe from what?” Lan asked softly, feeling her own anger ebb away.

He looked at her at last, and she saw, in the uncertain slant of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders, what effort it took for him to meet her gaze so directly. “Don’t you know by now?” he asked, very low. His face was still as red as Empress Jade’s silks, but he did not look away.

In the warmth of his eyes, Lan saw again the moon, the river, andthehoa maiscattered in the water like stars in the sky. She had never cared for Bao or noticed him as anything more than a bashful, quiet apprentice until the day he had confessed his feelings. She had spent years blinded by Tam’s brilliance, but when that light had died out, it was as though she had found Bao standing shyly in the space left behind. Unassuming and wholly unexpected.

“I’ve never stopped caring for you,” he said shakily. “I don’t think I ever could.”

“Well, then,” she said, “stop taking your affection out on me.”

Bao stared uncertainly, and then his shoulders sagged at the forgiveness he saw in her face. The tension dissipated like the air after a storm when he smiled, and Lan returned it after a moment. “We should get going,” he said. “But first let me see if you’re hurt.”

“My elbow’s a bit sore,” she said, wincing as she offered him the arm she had landed on.

He accepted it, his hands gentle as he turned her wrist, elbow, and shoulder, scanning her face for a reaction. He shifted to take the other arm, intent and businesslike, as a young physician could only be, and Lan couldn’t help smiling at his seriousness. His eyes flickered to hers self-consciously, and she shivered a bit as he released her arm, his warm fingers trailing along the length of her skin. “You might have a bruise or two tomorrow, and a bit of soreness, but nothing’s broken. Which is, ah, good news,” he said, some of his awkwardness returning. He rubbed the back of his neck. “How are your legs?”

Her legs were perfectly fine. Lan knew it well, because they didn’t hurt one bit when she shifted on the grass. She could have told him that. Instead, she said, “I’m not sure.” He was looking right at her, and she couldn’t tell if he knew she was lying, but it didn’t matter. She gave him a nod of consent, and he put his hands tentatively on her right leg.She felt their warmth acutely through the cotton, as though he were touching her bare skin.

Bao glanced at her and she tried to breathe normally as he pushed her knee into a bent position. “Did that hurt at all?” he asked, and when she shook her head, he moved to her ankle. His hands did touch bare skin there, at the hem of her pants, and he gently swiveled her foot.

Lan’s pulse raced and her mouth went dry, trying to stave off any inappropriate thoughts of his capable hands moving in the opposite direction from her ankle as Bao switched to her other leg. She felt every soft touch and press of his fingers in the nerves at the base of her spine.

“Nothing’s broken, though you’ll likely be sore for a day or two,” he said, pulling away as soon as he was finished. The fingers of his left hand were relentlessly tapping his right hand, another nervous habit Lan recalled from his visits to her house. “Let me help you up.”

“Thank you,” Lan said, a little breathless. She took his hand and rose, knees shaking in a way that had nothing to do with her fall. He formed a step with his hands and boosted her back onto her horse, which snorted and looked unimpressed. “I think I’ll be all right.”

“I’m glad of it. And...” Bao cleared his throat. “And I’m glad I could make sure.”

They rode back together and caught up to the others, unhurt and in one piece. But Lan knew, catching his eye for a moment, that everything between them had begun to change.

14

Bao struggled to sleep well for the first few nights of the journey. Each time he sank into slumber, he had feverish dreams of fields consumed by fire, scarlet flowers weeping black tears, and the parent figures who had faded in and out of his life like butterflies in summer. His mother, the person he wanted to see again the most, evaded him, lingering just beyond the edge of his mind. He felt her presence in every dream.

“Have you always slept this poorly, or is it the traveling?” Lan asked him one morning. The day had dawned fine and bright, and the company was packing up and preparing to leave.

“You heard me talking in my sleep?” he asked sheepishly. She looked fresh and pretty beside him, and he found it ironic that a spoiled minister’s daughter slept better outdoors than he did. “I must be nervous about getting to the Gray City. I can’t help but wonder if my mother’s expecting me. The dreams feel so real, and sometimes I feel I’m betraying her by traveling with Commander Wei.”

“You’re not traveling with him to declare war,” Lan pointed out. “You’re going because you need to find the witch. Your life is at stake. Don’t feel guilty about fighting for it.”

He smiled at the urgency in her voice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bao pretended to be engrossed in folding his bedroll, but he watched out of the corner of his eye as she swept her long hair over one shoulder and braided it with slim, graceful hands. It would make a nice painting, he thought: a girl weaving the silken strands of her hair, with her eyes on the sunrise, surrounded by the fragrant grasslands in high summer. It would surely be a painting he would treasure forever. Lan glanced at him, and he realized he had forgotten his bedroll in favor of staring at her.

“Sorry, I was just...” He stood up too quickly and the bedroll slipped from his hands, unraveling itself. “I wondered if you needed help with yours.”

“I thinkyou’rethe one who might need help,” she returned, laughing as she tied off her braid with a strip of cloth. She helped him fold it up, their hands brushing as she gave it to him, and Bao secured the roll to his horse, wishing he could just speak to her once without falling on his behind or dropping everything he was holding. “Will you help me up?”

Bao walked over to her horse and folded his hands, forming a step for her to use. She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in thanks when she was safely on her mare. He used a nearby boulder to mount his own steed.

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