rain10 THE LONG SPELL OF RAIN
By Lian-hua

Chapter Ten:

Tossing and turning drowsily, Shang tried once more to make himself comfortable on the sofa. He was groggy, tired and seething inwardly. One of the younger servants had brought him a blanket on her way out, just a girl maybe sixteen at most, but she seemed to take pity on him. He recalled her wide eyes when he had requested tea leaves and water to make his own tea, where he could see what went into it, adding a sedative to help him sleep. Surely she had heard His Majesty had been assassinated, surely she understood that even a young girl was not above his suspicions.

Shang had not wanted to believe that Taiping poisoned his uncle's wine herself, but the only two suspects were she and Longji, and they were famous for conspiring together. Still, even if she hadn't, if she had just let him be, one more senseless death might have been prevented. In his heart, under the haze of the sleep drug, where all his inner truths lay, he deeply resented himself for making her weep tonight. Of all the things that had happened of late nothing seemed to phase her, why his words? For years he had believed in her, obeyed her blindly, and suddenly he realized that it was all for the wrong reason. Expectation led to disappointment, the wisdom of the Tao advised. But was it wrong to hope for a kind word, a fond embrace, to be someone's favorite? Taiping, who commanded such love and loyalty, yet all she did was use him and the people around him. A peaceful man like Li Dan deserved so much better than that.

A fit of tension seized him as the door creaked open. Mulan would no doubt be furious to find him curled up on her sofa after what had happened tonight. But he didn't feel up to going back to the Officer's Quarters, the men there were drunk beyond coherency and far too happy for his patience right now. He would have slept in Tai-shan's room, but he had caught his friend and some officer drunk and kissing in the doorway, making enough noise to wake the dead as they groped all over each other. He cringed, Tai-shan would whore himself to anything that could scream his name.

Shang told himself that he had chosen the sofa because it was easier on his back, sore from the morning practice. The real reason was that he was not so presumptuous as to crawl in her bed when it was quite possible she did not even wish to look at him.

It did not surprise him in the least that she spotted him right away, she had the trained eye of a soldier after all. He remained still, and thought to pretend he was sound asleep. But his eyes did not seem to want to close, not with her to gaze at. It was a strange time to recall her lithe figure swaying to that sultry, foreign music.

"Shang?" Her voice was trembling, more uneasy than angry, afraid perhaps. She never had a need to be afraid of him, no matter how much cause he gave her. "Are you alright?" He could not help but feel a pang to see the rigid set of her shoulders, stiff and uncomfortable in his presence. How had they become so distant? And how did they find that closeness again?

He sighed, becoming more groggy by the moment; his body ached for sleep. "It's not every day your uncle dies in your arms. I told you, I never knew him. I guess it was too much to hope for that chance, and I was starting to like him."

"How..." She took a step closer, swallowing. "How could you say what you said to Taiping tonight? It hurt her so deeply. And after she left you in charge of the Palace while she was gone. She trusted you." The words were sharp, accusing.

"She used me."

"She-"

But he cut her off sharply. "In the two days she left me in the Palace, there were two attempts on my life. She must have known this, how dangerous it was, she knows everything. But I was expendable I suppose, just like my uncle."

The hand she laid on his arm was almost pleading. "Shang, stop... think."

Sitting up, he grabbed her hand, his grip rough. "It never stops, Mulan, that's just it. We'll all die one by one until there's nothing left, and for what? The whole world will just end. No more honor, no glory, no great Tang empire to fight for and preserve. But even then, Taiping will find a use for me."

"Is it so bad taking orders from a woman?" There was a new bitterness in her that he had never heard before.

What? That wasn't it at all. There were many women in his life that he loved and respected, Tie-lin, his mother, and her for starters. Mulan of all people should know he wasn't the sort of man who belittled women to soothe his own insecurity, that was not the way of a gentlemen. True, he expected more gentle and compassionate behavior from women, but that only made sense, and that had nothing to do with whom he chose to serve. He would give his loyalty to anyone who was trustworthy and honorable, and that was that.

"That's going a bit far."

Even in the dark, he knew she was scowling. "No further than accusing an innocent woman of killing a king."

"At least I didn't kill her." He wasn't sure why he said that; it was a remark that was too cruel and cutting. That was not his intention. He only wanted her to drop the subject, to remind her that she wasn't so innocent, and in no place to criticize. It was a poor tactic, but he was not as clever nor as strong as her. He just wanted to sleep.

She froze and stood silent for a long moment. "I think I'll get some sleep then," and without any invitation for him to join her, she turned and slammed the door to the inner chamber.

~ * ~

Who would be Emperor now? That same question seemed to plague every corner of the Palace as Shang walked the halls the next evening. Some seemed in favor of Taiping, others Longji, some were more interested in who he was in favor of. Neither, but he kept that to himself.

Luckily, he had slept through most of the day, it was well after noon when he finally woke and Mulan was already gone, at Taiping's side no doubt. He had spent the remaining afternoon with Tai-shan, keeping a taut guard around the Palace should any official think to seize his chance by making a move, tipping the balance of power and cracking through the instability. Once again Shang was forced to wonder why Taiping had not appointed Longji for this special duty, he had all the military influence. No doubt to keep her precious nephew from being hurt. Sacrificing Mulan wasn't enough, Taiping was now willing to sacrifice Tai-shan to her schemes as well.

He was walking back to Mulan's rooms now, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, another chance at talking things over. Unfortunately, he had to pass by Taiping's rooms to do so, but he could at least peek in and see if Mulan was in fact there with her.

The great doors were left open, the murmur of voices met his ears as he came upon them. Not Mulan, but Taiping and Longji. Taiping was seated on her sofa as she was wont, the prince kneeling at her feet, clutching her hand as if she were a lover. The picture was more than disturbing. Looking about, Shang saw no servants in sight, or anyone else to catch him eavesdropping. Stepping away from the door he made a clandestine effort to catch their words.

"If you didn't kill my father than who did?" Longji's low voice was hushed, but of course, Li Dan's murder was nothing but a well guarded secret. He sounded more enraged than bereft, as if his father's assassination was a crime against his own honor, his own pride. Li Longji, such a shallow and unenlightened man.

"I don't know." Taiping was very grave and sad. She had never been like this before, she was steel, wrapped in silk. If she was not strong, then who would be? It brought Shang a sense of alarm. Whether he liked it or not, the Empire had leaned on her. "I would like to know who killed a lot of people over the years. Perhaps it is my mother's ghost that will never leave me. This must end, all this murder and violence, after thirty years it is enough to make a woman lose her mind and rue the day she was ever born of the House of Li. I am so tired, nephew. Perhaps it is only my mother's bad karma that all her children are cursed." There something in the depth of those few riven words, something which bled through every angry thought he had of her. He felt his heart breaking.

"But not you," Longji's voice dropped to a whisper, almost sensual, a tender caress. "You can never leave me. I love you too much."

For the love of all his Ancestor's, that was his father's sister! How could Longji permit himself to feel something so sinful and perverse? Even worse, why did Taiping allow it? If she detested it she could have come to him, Shang would have done anything to keep this incestuous bastard from laying a hand on his aunt. He wondered how far this had gone, and even if Taiping was pleased by it. Or maybe she had invited it, twisted it, to her advantage. For that, he couldn't blame her.

There was a long pause, but when Taiping spoke again her voice held a familiar reservation. She was clearly uncomfortable. "I will leave this world when it is time, nephew." Her emphasis on that word made her discomfort doubly plain. "And so will you."

"Will we be together?" The amorousness was still there. "In Heaven? Promise me we will always be together."

Taiping gave a long, sad sigh. "I don't know."

Shang walked away from the door, unable to stand anymore of this. An inescapable guilt swam through his thoughts. He had been wrong about Taiping. Anyone who hurt that deeply deserved the utmost respect.

~ * ~

"Shang?"

At first he did not hear the uncertain voice behind him, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts. The noise of the Palace had grown too much, the fuss of the officials and ladies, leaving him no sane choice but to try and slip away quietly. He had managed to find a secluded spot in the garden, a pavilion under a small pond surrounded by stones, facing the hills which cradled the great city. Turned this way, with that view ahead of him and only the misty horizon and the night sky, he could forget he was even in a Palace garden. He could imagine himself anywhere. There was only the moon for light now, just a silver beam brushing the water, tracing the plum trees hanging overhead, even the air here held a welcome freshness, different from other parts of the garden. He found a new sense of serenity in this place.

A light hand rested on his shoulder, repeating his name again before facing the horizon as he was. "Ch'ang-an, long lasting peace." This time he turned around. Taiping stood beside him, her arms at her sides, hands covered by the wide sleeves of her robe. She looked composed as ever now yet there was a change in her, a new openness in her features. She too must be tired of hiding. He sighed, Li Dan was her brother, why did he think she was beyond grieving for him? Because she did not show it? But what was that worth, he felt the loss deeply and he was often as cold and stoic as they came.

"I found out who killed your uncle," she said quietly, lowering herself on the bench beside him. "There was a vial of poison in his robes, something you could make from herbs if you knew what you were doing. It was suicide. You notice how he kept toasting? I should have known something was wrong."

Shang nodded, he had been rather fervid about it, as if he knew just how much of the poison he needed to drink. That left Shang even more puzzled. "Why would he do that? Poison his own wine right in front of us and make it look like an assassination?" Shang had been certain that it was someone in that room, all the wine that night had been poured from the same pitcher, yet only the Emperor had died.

She seemed as perplexed as he was, and as somber. "When I asked him to take the throne, I was half sure he would refuse, though I could not tell anyone at the time. It was Li Longji who urged him. My brother has given up the throne once before, I think he took it now for the same reason he did then, to honor my father's memory. Maybe he was desperate, too ashamed to be remembered as a coward for an obvious suicide. But I'm sure he knew that if he died as Emperor, the throne was sure to pass to Longji, and not..." she paused uneasily. "Not to me."

Longji, all Shang's suspicions now swirled around that name. How did she know the suicide wasn't forced? Strange that Longji was already choosing his consort when his father had not yet been crowned. But he did not dare voice this aloud, not after the earlier exchange he had overhead between them. It was not wise to step between two people's affections.

"First Aunt," he said gently, turning to her. "I... I am sorry for everything I have said and thought."

Her laughter was soft, but edged with melancholy. "No, I understand. My first suspect was Li Longji, the way he threw himself at you." He was shocked to hear her speak that way of her favorite nephew. Her eyes found his briefly, as if to seal this as a secret between them. Then she turned her gaze to the black horizon, before lifting it to the stars. "You remind of myself when I was your age. Every time something unbearable happened I blamed my mother. I suppose it was because I thought she was so strong, so powerful, that she could stop anything terrible from happening, and when she didn't I hated her because I felt she hadn't tried hard enough." He found himself nodding, that was exactly it. "But after she died, and I was forced to walk a mile in her shoes, I realized that she didn't have that kind of power after all. She was just a woman struggling to hold her head up in a man's world."

"Take the throne," it did not bother him that he was pleading with her. "I will... I will help you fight for it against Li Longji if you want." It would be all the better for his country. Surely a wise and experienced woman would do better at managing the empire than an incestuous pervert.

"The throne is the last thing in the world that I want, nephew," she replied with a shake of her head. Her sigh was one of sad resolution. "I know this empire needs a man to keep the people happy."

It seemed such a silly thing to hold her back. "But you are capable." Much more so than Li Longji, who would probably care for nothing but the state of his harem, military hero or no.

"But I am not a man," her voice was firm now. "The throne will go to Li Longji, the people love him for his accomplishments, they will follow him. You know I will not be around forever. He will need you. Forget whatever strife you have between you, you two are the last men left of this family."

His nod was grudging, he would do this for his country, not Li Longji. "I hope for a family of my own someday." That is, if he and Mulan ever found their way again. But of course they would, they had to.

"Your wife tells me she suspects she may be with child already, though it is too early to know for certain." Shang raised a startled eyebrow, she had not told him this. Already he could feel himself growing anxious over the prospect.

Still, he tried to take the news calmly. "Is she happy?"

Taiping gave a hint of a smile. "Of course. But you must remember something. When your child is born, do not give the child a great name, lest she grow up to be always disappointed in herself. The burden of living for other peoples hopes can crush a young spirit." He nodded again, he was all too familiar with that misery.

"I have treated Mulan badly, and you." He sighed. "I feel so honorless."

"No," she squeezed his hand. "It is men like you who let me sleep at night. You choose honor over love, what woman cannot admire that in a nephew or a husband. Love confuses us, clouds our reason, but honor lets us always act with integrity and our heart in the right place. I know that when I... when I am gone, you will always be here to do your duty." Her fingers brushed his cheek with open affection, almost motherly. "I am proud of you."

He smiled, trying not to be overcome by emotion. In all his life, no one had ever said those words to him before. Now he understood how Mulan must have felt when she stood before the Emperor that long ago day in the Palace. But it was Taiping who reached out to embrace him. The worst was over now, everything seemed to subside. Only one thing remained to make right.

~ * ~

Curled up on the sofa in her inner chamber, Mulan pulled her night robe closer around her. She was not cold, only restless, It had been more than an hour since she had bathed and combed her hair for bed and still she had not moved from the sofa. One of the servants had just come and gone, with a message that she had spotted Shang outside, speaking with Taiping. Although the news was noteworthy, Mulan wondered what command of hers had been misconstrued into orders to spy on the man.

She had not seen Shang at all today, aside from being fast asleep in the parlor when she left early this morning. It was not like him at all to sleep late, but she left him alone, he seemed content enough to stay that way. He must have stayed that way for quite some time in fact, when she had returned late in the day he was gone already, busy with Tai-shan and his duty to keep the Palace secure. She had spent the greater part of the morning with Taiping, there were funeral arrangements to oversee, though Taiping had voiced nothing in regards to Li Dan's murderer, odd since she had been very vocal about Anle.

In the afternoon, Mulan had helped Lady Jiang prepare her sword dance for Li Longji's upcoming coronation, and had not returned to her own chambers until three hours ago. Now her feet ached terribly from dancing in the too small shoes that were all the rage among the performers. Who ever heard of dancing in too small shoes? But dancing was a destruction from the solemnity which clung to the Palace these days.

Her heart fluttered nervously when she heard the door, and sure enough a silk clad figure was standing there, watching her hesitantly from across the candle lit room. She searched his face, he seemed calm now, pacified, not angry nor on the verge of violence anymore. In fact, he looked almost happy. She smiled at him, it was hard not to, after the tiring events of the past week it was a relief to see something of his former self.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, seeing the carelessly tossed shoes on the wooden floor and the way she groaned when she set her feet down to sit up properly.

"The shoes hurt," was all she said. It was hard, she just did not know what to say to him anymore.

He nodded, giving the shoes a funny look. Without a word he crossed the room towards her and reached for the basin on the table, filling it with the jug of clear water that had been left closed after her bath for her face and hands before bed. At first she thought nothing of it, only that he was likely as tired as she and wanted to prepare for bed himself. She watched quietly as he took a bottle of oil - one in a collection of many left to soothe the aches and pains of martial arts practices - emptying its tawny contents into the water. The scent was sharp at first when it bit the air, smelling of spices and faint notes of grapefruit, stirring her senses until she could not breathe enough of it.

But then, he dropped to his knees before her, pulling one of the deep pink roses from a vase on the nearby hearth, gently edging the center open with two fingers, plucking the more fragrant inner petals and scattering them in the water, taking another and doing the same. The soft rose scent did not clash with the full-bodied herb, but mingled, adding a soothing undertone of sweetness. She blinked, enchanted by the strange scent, the beauty of the crimson petals floating in the water, of him kneeling so quietly at her feet in his finery, unconcerned with the soaked cuffs of his silk sleeves.

A blush crept into her cheeks when he placed her sore feet in the fragrant water. She sighed in pleasure before she realized it; the water was warm and the oil made her flesh sting until all the blood rushed to her toes, relieving the pain. He took her foot in one hand and a coarse ball of sponge soaked in something else in the other, dipping it in the water and then against the tender flesh of her foot, rubbing in circles until she could freely spread her toes again. Taking the other foot he did the same, until both had been thoroughly washed and massaged.

She found herself smiling at him as he dried each foot on the bottom of his robe, but her efforts only earned her a gentle chiding. "Too small shoes are only for women with ugly feet."

Mulan blushed, it was a high compliant for a man to say a girl had pretty feet, especially a peasant girl. She let him climb up beside her on the sofa, pushing up the wet sleeves of his robe. They stared at each other, as if the idiocy of their recent quarrels and exchanges were unimaginable to them now, and then in the next moment were clinging to each other like two people afraid of themselves.

He ran a hand through her hair a moment, her face buried in his shoulder. "You know I love you, Mulan." It was so somber and humble.

They remained that way for a long moment, until she gently drew back, smoothing the hair from her face. A sense of relief washed over her, something she had not felt in many days. "I'm tired," she began quietly, her hands still on his shoulders. But then she stood and walked barefoot a few steps across the room. "I think I'll go to bed now." Pausing in the doorway, she turned around slowly. He had not moved from the sofa but was still watching her. Her sudden smile was shy. "You can come too, if you want."

The offer was not as clever nor artful as one an experienced wife might have made. But however awkward and coy, Shang understood. He shrugged off the wet shirt and followed after her.