Page 34 of Song of the Crimson Flower

“Do you have your flute?” she asked.

He checked the cloth sack hanging from his saddle. “Yes, safe and sound.”

“I was listening when you told Commander Wei the other day about all the people you had lived with,” Lan admitted, blushing. “I liked thestory of the couple who gave you the flute. I didn’t realize you had gone through so many different families.”

“I never talked about it before,” he said. “I didn’t want people pitying me. But something about the Commander told me he wouldn’t, and he would understand.”

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad I found Master Huynh. I learned much from him,” Bao told her. “But I always wished I had a father like yours, kind and generous and knowledgeable.”

Lan beamed. “He is the best of fathers. And he always admired and respected you,” she said. “He only ever had something complimentary to say about you. As did my grandmother.”

“I liked her, too. She brought out a different side of you.” Bao smiled, remembering the day they had climbed the tree at the old woman’s suggestion. “You were always more daring and bold, and you stood up to your brothers and...” He broke off before he could say the name.

“And Tam,” she finished for him, sighing. “Bà n?i always encouraged me to do what I wanted while I could.Too soon, she would say,you’ll only do what you’re supposed to do, and say what you’re supposed to say.And she was right. For a while now, I’ve only wanted what I thought I was supposed to want. She never liked Tam, by the way,” she added, glancing at him.

Another memory came to Bao then: a spring afternoon, when the words of Lan’s song had first come to him like fireflies whose light would soon be lost. He had hurried to catch them on paper, terrified they would slip away into the wind. Tam had caught him scribbling in the barn and had given him an unpleasant jolt, as though he had wandered into one of Bao’s innermost dreams.

Tam had bent his elegant face over the words. “Aren’t you a loyal little servant? Always ready to do whatever my parents command.”

“They didn’t tell me to write this. I wrote it myself.”

Tam’s laugh, even when harsh and unhappy, was a handsome sound. “Use that cleverness to find me a way out of this marriage, and I’ll pay you five times what my father gives you now.” He leaned against the wall with an easy, careless grace. “Help me escape from my shackles.”

“Miss Vu isn’t the monster you keep making her out to be.”

“Of course not. This isn’t about Lan. She’s just bait that my parents are dangling in front of me to keep me obedient.” Tam had tipped his head back, his long, straight nose like a blade cutting down his profile. “This is about me having a say in my own life and making my own choices, without my mother screaming at me or my father disowning me.”

Ink had splattered Bao’s chin. He had pressed the tip of the pen too hard into the paper. “Then tell them you want to break off the betrothal completely. They know you’re unhappy, so what is the point of all this pretense? You could save me the trouble of carrying on this lie, of writing notes in your name and sending flowers that are supposed to be from you. I’m tired of hurting a girl who has never done anything wrong.”

“What is the point?” Tam had echoed. “The point is that even if I break it off with Lan, my parents will find me another suitable bride. It is always whattheywant, and whattheythink best. And I must do my filial duty and bend to their will and make them happy. So why not stall? Why not string them along until I can find a chance to escape?”

“You’re stringing Miss Vu along, too,” Bao had pointed out furiously. “And the longer this goes on, the deeper in you’ll be.”

“One of these days,” Tam had said, “I’m going to find a chance to escape and live life for myself. But until then, I’m not about to risk my father disowning me for embarrassing Minister Vu.” And true to his word, Tam had never said anything to his parents. He had learned from a young age to pay someone else to do what he couldn’t or didn’t wishto, and so Lan had suffered, and Bao had suffered, and a deep rift had formed between the two families.

One of these days, Bao decided, he would tell Lan about this memory. He would find the words to let her know the depths of Tam’s selfishness and cowardice, and then—with any luck—she might finally be able to let her heartache go.

They traveled all through the morning, and when the sun was at its peak in the sky, they had reached a part of the grasslands where the river returned, calm and gentle along one side of a village whose cottages rose like ruddy stones in the fields. Bao looked joyfully at the water, glad to see that it was part ofhisriver, the one that had felt more like home to him than any other place. Commander Wei signaled for them all to stop and let the horses rest, and the soldiers began unloading the wagon of food as Bao slid to the ground, eager to walk along the riverbank.

“Look at this place.” Wren stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the village uneasily, and when Bao followed her gaze, he saw what disturbed her. Though the homes were well made from bricks, wood, and bamboo, not a single one appeared to be occupied. There were no streams of smoke that indicated cooking, no washing hung out to dry, and no animals in the barren pens. In fact, the place seemed completely deserted.

“It looks abandoned,” he said.

“It is. The question iswhy, because it’s such an ideal location.” Wren studied the heavy-headed fruit trees lining the river. “I suppose it’s as good a place as any for us to rest and gather supplies. Only three more days before we deliver Lord Nguyen’s new bride to him.”

They turned to look at Yen, who stood speaking to the Commander. The man listened in silence, and after a moment, he strode to the river with his face like stone.

Wren sighed. “I told Jade it wasn’t a good idea for Wei to escort Lady Yen. Well, they’ll either work it out between them or keep sulking, which they’re both quite good at. I’m going to go look around this village,” she added, strolling off into the group of houses.

“And I am in desperate need of a bath,” Lan said, looking at the river with the same yearning Bao felt. “Will you perish if I go?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

She turned to face him and began walking backward slowly, one step at a time, toward the edge of the water. The tightness in Bao’s throat returned well before she reached the trees, and despite all of his efforts to fight it, the magic wrapped its fingers around his windpipe and squeezed. Dots danced in his vision as he lurched forward, gasping for air.

Lan hurried back, and the pressure eased instantaneously. “This is hopeless.”

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