The main room of the first floor was deserted when Lien reentered the house. At the center, the grand table had been cleared of all food and plates as if the dinner had never happened. She glanced around for any sign of Jing Fei or a guard or even a servant. But she was completely alone. It was a familiar experience, yet so different. This solitude was not that of a prisoner. Instead, it was that of a free woman. Or perhaps she was merely a runaway, soon to be captured again.
What did she do now? This moment was all she had been waiting for since it had become apparent that her incarceration would not be short term. So many years ago… She paced the length of the table. Her eyes caught on the intricate carvings of flames and she clenched her teeth. Then she looked away, towards the back wall which was hung with a large tapestry. The fabric was dark burgundy and golden and decorated with dragons in various poses. A large green dragon sprawled languidly across the top with a notation beneath him. Several other rows of the serpentine creatures lay below that, each with their own label nearby. She frowned and strolled around the table to examine the script.
Names. The names of the dragons perhaps. Jianyu was what the green dragon appeared to be called. She read the next one down. Heng. That one seemed familiar to her, oddly so. Frown deepening, she moved to the next row of dragons. A blue one demanded her attention with its wings spread wide and its snaking body curled into a corkscrew shape. Her eyes darted to the neat black characters below the kingly figure. Wei Sheng. She gasped. No, this was not a tapestry depicting creatures of legend. It was her family tree.
Heng had been her grandfather – a man she had only seen a few times before she was locked away. She remembered him as stern and lanky with stark black hair. He liked rules, had a way about him that made people obey. But she had never viewed him as unkind. A renowned naval officer in his prime, he never paid them a visit without bringing the children mementos of his travels.
Jianyu, however, had not been a name she had grown up hearing. She wondered what had happened to her great grandfather as her gaze trailed down to the final level of dragons. Fan Li was a diminutive red wyrm, spewing all-encompassing white flames. Jing Fei's was a pretty cobalt and, although large, appeared translucent. Almost crystalline. When she reached her own representation, she couldn't suppress a shudder. She was a colorless wyrm, coiled into a tight ring with its wings folded at its side. A single crimson eye stared back at her. Swallowing hard, she forced her attention to a spot on the drapery beside Jing Fei. The fabric there had been burned, transformed into a charred blob surrounded by an untouched maroon expanse. Lien backed away until her leg hit the table.
She fled to her room, ignoring her surroundings. The paintings that she once fancied passed her by in a blur. How could she look at them? She didn't want to see their secrets. Maybe everyone already knew what she had discovered tonight. Maybe it was common knowledge. But she felt shaken, as if the very foundations of her family had wavered. Her lungs ached and she drew in a gasping breath. The air was suffocating her. When she made it to her room, she slammed the door and threw herself down on her orange carpet.
Her hands shook violently as she tore her hair out of its bun. The metal ornament clattered to the exposed wooden floor boards. She rubbed her sleeves across her face, smearing makeup, and nearly ripped her gown as she struggled to free herself from its suddenly choking hold.
As her frenzy wore off, she brought herself to her feet. She looked into the mirror, almost completely naked, eye shadow and mascara streaking down her cheeks. A flood of shame heated her body. She fetched a deep brown robe from her closet and let the plushness surround her. If only it could reassure. But everything was too wrong. One moment, she'd felt like she could finally take control of her life. Then the next, the illusion came crashing down. There would be no escape from this family unless they chose to erase her from their narrative. With her impending marriage, they were bound to take advantage in every way they could.
Before she could fall too deeply into those thoughts, a knock came at her door. She turned toward it. "Come in."
Jing Fei stepped into the room, carrying a small basin of water and a washcloth. She smiled faintly, lips still painted. "I thought I heard you come back. They all hoped the commander would have taken you to his bed."
Lien scoffed but said nothing. Her older sister heated the water with her hands then dipped the washcloth in it. As the makeup was scrubbed from her face, she searched Jing Fei's golden eyes. Did she know? She almost worked up the courage to ask, but she couldn't. It felt improper – not that she cared much for customs and formalities. What she did care about were her sister's feelings. The only one to ever bother with loving her…
"That was my reaction too," Jing Fei said about the scoff. She allowed herself a slight laugh and continued to wash Lien's face. "Close your eyes. I need to get that eyeshadow off." Her little sister did as she was told, still silent. "Anyway, I know Mother and Father are very taken with that man, but… Well, he's older than I had hoped. And he doesn't seem to have much regard for other people."
"I think he was just trying to impress them," Lien said. She cringed when the cloth rubbed her eyelid too roughly. Jing Fei drew back and apologized but she waved the apology aside. "He seemed interested in me during our walk. And he wants to see me again tomorrow."
"That's good…" Jing Fei reheated the water and dunked the towel into the basin. She rung out the excess then resumed her battle against the stubborn makeup.
Lien tried to ignore the doubt in her sister's voice. If Zhao was her only chance to leave behind this life, she would do everything within her power to be his partner. She thought back to what he had said about helping each other no more than an hour ago. He had dangled freedom and knowledge in front of her face but made no mention of what he needed from her. It should have concerned her. She wanted to trust in him or at least temporarily pretend he was deserving of that trust. She would have to come up with a way of testing him to be sure, though.
Jing Fei finished with the washcloth and basin. She set them outside the door, against the wall. A servant would pick them up later. Cautious, she strolled back into the room and sat on the bed. Her gold irises watched Lien. But she didn't try to make another attempt at conversation. It left Lien open to ask about the burned tapestry. She still didn't know if that was the best thing to do. Yet her curiosity was screaming inside her.
"I took a good look at our family tree when I came back inside," she said, sitting on the bed beside Jing Fei. She clasped her hands in her lap until her knuckles strained white. "Part of it is scorched very deliberately. Do we… Do we have another sibling?"
All the color drained from her sister's face. The blush stood out on her cheeks in even sharper contrast. Jing Fei jumped to her feet and scurried to the door. She hesitated long enough for Lien to follow and grab hold of her wrist. All the secrecy… Lien couldn't stand it. She had thought her favorite sister of all people would let her know what was happening. A pang of fear rapped on her heart. Perhaps there was a reason for it. The truth could be beyond her coping abilities. It could ruin her. She frowned to herself, resisting the urge to shake her head to clear it. That was ridiculous. Nothing was as bad as simply not knowing.
"I don't want to hear that we're not allowed to talk about it or that you're trying to protect me," she said, squeezing the wrist in her grasp until Jing Fei yelped in pain.
"He's dead." The older girl pulled her arm away. Lien felt her heart sink at the words. "He went off to war like Father, Grandfather, and Great Grandfather. Something about the family honor, I suppose. And he never came back." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Goodnight."
Lien stood in the open doorway, looking out until her sister disappeared around the corner. Alone again. She shut the door and slunk back to her bed. It could've been hours or mere minutes. Either way, she lay awake, thinking. A brother she had never known. He had to have been long dead by the time she was even born. But why did it matter anyway? Gradually, she slipped into a fitful sleep.
The theatre was a stout building, nearly hidden by the noblemen's towering homes that surrounded it. It was made of pale stone and topped off with red shingles. It's height – or lack thereof – was the only unique feature. The rest was just like every other structure they had passed along the way. Lien's eyes whipped back and forth, taking in every possible detail. Even though it was all so uniform, she needed to see and touch everything she could.
As they entered the theatre, Zhao guided her off to the side with instructions to not move. She watched him disappear into the crowd of people and frowned. Surely, if he was just purchasing their tickets, she would be able to go with him. But at least this way, she could explore a bit more freely. She examined the other nobles first. The grand scarlet robes, golden and silver hair ornaments, the jewels flashing on slim fingers. Her own outfit was plain by comparison. Just a simple ash grey dress with a sheer red cover up. At least this time, a servant had been able to straighten her hair.
She turned her attention to the plant beside her. Something that wouldn't make her feel ashamed of her appearance. Its pot was tall and round and made of a reddish-brown clay. Her fingers stroked the rim, feeling a strange heat emanating from it. As she wondered where that warmth might have come from, she was approached by a woman dressed head to toe in purple. Including a wine-colored cap over her unusually short brown hair.
"Hello," the woman said. Her lips smiled but her eyes were calculating. "My name is Kiran. I saw you come in with Commander Zhao. Very improper that he should leave you alone like this."
Lien stared at the woman, blinking.
"Not the brightest flame, are you? That's alright." Kiran walked a circle around Lien. Her smile morphed into a smirk. When she completed her inspection, she stopped directly in front of the girl. "You're quite pretty. And if you don't speak…" She snickered. "No wonder."
What could Lien say to that? She didn't like what the noblewoman seemed to be implying about Zhao's intentions. However, protesting wasn't proper, no matter how much she wanted to. For all she knew, Kiran was a close friend of the commander's. So she simply laughed. It was small and weak, barely audible over the conversations happening around them. But it elicited an approving nod from Kiran.
"Do you have a name?" the woman asked.
"Yes." She paused for a few moments too long, as if expecting her companion to ask another question. "Um… Lien. It's Lien. Nice to meet you." Her gaze fell to the floor and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.
Kiran's eyes widened when she heard Lien's name, but she quickly masked the expression. Instead of surprise, her face lit up with exaggerated glee. "Well you and Zhao absolutely must sit with my husband and I. We have our own box reserved. Best seats in the house, you know. Come, come. We'll find the commander together." Darting hands grabbed hold of Lien. She dragged the girl into the crowd, chatting away about how she was sure her husband would be glad to meet.
Lien allowed herself to be led around, knowing it would take too much effort to free herself from such an energetic captor. Besides, she almost liked the idea of disobeying Zhao's orders. It showed him that she had her own mind. She wouldn't be forced into blind submission so easily. At the same time, it gave her a bit of a thrill. Would he be angry with her? And if he was, what would he do about it? The thoughts were both exciting and terrifying.
They reached the front desk where an attendant sat with a small stack of tickets in front of her. Nearby, Zhao stood with a portly man. The commander looked down to meet the other man's eyes. She almost fooled herself into thinking that he was completely at ease. Then she noticed the red hue tainting his face. It was faint – faint enough that she thought she was imagining it. But no, as she drew closer, she knew it was truly there. He was enraged. She wondered if Kiran had noticed. Yet the woman didn't even hesitate to force her way into whatever conversation the two men were having.
Zhao glared at Lien, his eyes cutting through her skin like a blade. Though he did not reprimand her, she felt her heartbeat spike. She lowered her head and he turned from her. His voice boomed in her ears as he greeted Kiran. How pleasant he sounded. It made her stomach churn. She had glimpsed something in those amber irises. A darkness she never knew could exist outside of stories.
"Lien." Kiran's voice coaxed her back to reality. She gestured to the man Zhao had been arguing with. "This is my husband, Admiral Masaru."
Like Zhao, Masaru wore his uniform. He had greying brown hair and a thick beard and moustache that almost fully concealed his mouth. Amber eyes twinkled beneath a prominent brow. Compared to Zhao's, they were like daybreak. She bowed to him but stayed silent. Not that she didn't wish to speak. She feared she would come off as rude if she said nothing. But her mind refused to organize her thoughts into proper sentences. This was not the time to make a fool of herself. It was better to be silent.
"No need to be shy," the admiral said. His facial hair shifted in a way that suggested he was beaming. Unlike his wife, he did not scrutinize her appearance. He maintained eye contact with her, sometimes looking toward Zhao. "Is this your first time coming to the theatre?"
"Um… well, not quite," she said, taken aback. "First time in many years, though."
"Oh? What was your reason for staying away?"
Lien noticed both Zhao and Kiran shoot pointed glances at Masaru. Then his wife laughed. "You're so funny, dear. I know you wouldn't actually forget about Lien and her unfortunate circumstance. We were all devastated when we learned she had fallen ill. Remember?"
"Wei Sheng's daughter?" The admiral's eyes went round. But in a moment, he'd recovered himself. He shook his head. "You poor, poor thing. How are you feeling?"
"The play will be starting soon," Zhao said before Lien could reply. He reached for her hand, but she flinched away. That redness crept back into his cheeks. She prayed that he knew to keep it under control while they were in polite company. With an annoyed sigh, he dropped his arm back to his side and strode off toward the box seats Kiran had mentioned earlier.