February 1914
Yao Province
The morning Lan Fan was due to return home Ling decided to give his guards the slip. He rose early, dressed warmly, and tied his newly forged sword across his back. Nearly four nights and days Shu'd worked relentlessly. The design was simple yet perfectly constructed. It was good steel as promised. Ling started out the window then returned to the table by his bed. Lifting the false bottom from the drawer he retrieved a small parcel. It was tied up in a scrap of black brocade. He slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping then leapt out his window into the garden below. Sneaking out of the estate hardly took any effort. Ling pilfered a pork bun and three oranges from the kitchen on his way out. Before anyone noticed his absence he was strolling through the orchard eating breakfast.
Ling whiled away the hours on a hilltop near the main road to the estate, practicing his sword technique to distract himself from the anticipation. When he grew tired of that he laid back on the dry grass to stare up at the clouds. Seven days without Lan Fan; he wanted to be the first to see her home. Even though she'd disapprove of him wandering off without an escort. He ate one orange then another. The third he saved for her. He took the parcel from his pocket and untied the cloth. The black and gold lacquered comb was as beautiful as the day he bought it nearly two years ago. Ling twirled it slowly between his fingers as he watched the road.
In all this time he'd never found the right moment to give it to Lan Fan. She'd been frightfully cross with him that day for disappearing. Once she'd been particularly down about an admonishment from Fu. Ling thought it might cheer her up, but she spirited away to practice alone before he'd had a chance to get it from his room. Since then he carried it with him each day. As time passed it became more than a trinket, more than a simple adornment. Often Lan Fan occupied his mind, even when his thoughts should lie with his goals.
Propriety wedged between them as they fell into their respective roles. At times he went days without seeing her unmasked. It was easier to focus when he couldn't stare at the back of her neck, the freckle on the curve of her ear, her thumb worrying back and forth across her lower lip as she read. Sometimes the mask wasn't enough, because even with it her eyes could pierce to the very heart of him. Not that she would look directly at him. Ling closed his eyes and held the comb to his lips for a moment. After I've found the key to immortality, when there is time for anything but my goals.
Ling opened his eyes at the sound of hoofbeats. In the distance he spotted two riders cantering along the road. He wrapped the comb in the cloth and returned it to his pocket. As they drew near he recognized Lan Fan accompanied by her stepfather. Prince Ling stood with arms folded as they approached. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, bun loose and tousled by the wind, and dressed in a quju of black and gold. The cloak wrapped around her was crimson. Ling couldn't recall ever seeing her wear anything so bright. Instead of shadow she was flame. Lan Fan reined her horse to a stop when she spied him on the hill. Next to her Liwei also drew to a halt.
"Good afternoon, your highness," he said with a bow of his head.
"Young lord, what are you doing here unescorted? Where is Master Fu?" Lan Fan's tone was laced with worry and exasperation. It took a moment for Ling to find his voice.
"Lan Fan! What luck that we should meet along the road when I'm in need of an escort. Lord Zhang, I thank you for seeing my bodyguard this far. There's no need to trouble yourself further. I will see her the rest of the way."
"As you wish, your highness." Liwei didn't look pleased with this turn of events, but broached no argument. From his jacket he withdrew an envelope sealed with the Zhang crest stamped in wax. He handed the envelope to Lan Fan then swept her bangs from her eyes. "Lan, see that you give that to your grandfather. Be sure to write your mother. We shall see you again in the summer. My lord."
Lord Zhang bowed his head once more in deference to Prince Ling before starting back the way they'd come. The envelope Lan Fan tucked into the saddlebag. She dismounted from the mare clumsily thanks to her attire, yet her bow was smooth as the silk she wore. "Young lord, this one humbly asks that you not wander unguarded, even through your own lands. Were anything to happen..."
"Yet something has happened. I've stumbled across a rare sight-Lady Liu in a dress," he teased. At 'Lady Liu' he caught her flinch. Always she became flustered at his good natured teasing, but this time she looked uneasy, perhaps guilty. Did something happen? Ling wondered. As he walked closer she straightened and kept her eyes averted. Prince Ling tossed the orange he'd saved to her and noticed her painted nails when she caught it. He reached out and tugged at the edge of her cloak. "This color suits you."
"It's far too bold for me, my lord." Still she would not look him in the eye. With her thumbnail she picked at the skin of the fruit but didn't peel it.
"Lan Fan." She looked up when Ling spoke her name. "Tell me what's troubling you."
"...If it pleases you, my lord, this one would prefer to speak back at the estate lest our words carry on the wind."
"Then let's return. We have more to discuss than you know."
They spoke late into the night with Fu. Lan Fan changed into her guard uniform and fixed her mask in place before they settled into discussions. The tension Ling's young bodyguard held eased somewhat in the familiar black garb and armor. The knives she wore concealed about her body were a comfort. Lan Fan told her master and lord of the soiree at the Zhang estate; of her encounter with Junjie Zhang and all that he'd implied. The young lord listened closely as she spoke. If he doubted her fealty he showed no sign of it. In turn Prince Ling told her of his plan to seek the Philosopher's stone in the west. They would cross the desert for the young lord wished to see the Xerxes ruins.
"We haven't the time to concern ourselves with petty Zhang conspiracies. I will relay the information to Lady Xue. She'll see to it that our spies look into his intentions. Prepare yourselves," Ling commanded, "We leave tomorrow night."
It was nearing three in the morning when they finally retired to their rooms. Before they went their separate ways Lan Fan passed along Liwei's letter to Fu. A day of traveling on horseback and night spent in close counsel left her exhausted. She might've collapsed onto her bed without bothering to take off her armor if it weren't for the bundle resting on her pillow. The moonlight streaming through the window wasn't enough to see properly by. Lan Fan struck a match to the wick of the lantern by her bedside.
She took a moment to remove her armor and shoes then sat down to examine the bundle. It was a white handkerchief embroidered with a familiar red blossom pattern. The very one she'd wrapped around Shu's wounded hand on the day they met in the market of the capital. The fabric was soft with age and miraculously free of bloodstains. She wondered if they'd been removed with alkehestry. Wrapped inside the handkerchief were six kunai. Expertly crafted by the look of them. Lan Fan tested the point of one against the pad of her index. A bead of blood welled to the surface. Deadly sharp.
Lan Fan smiled.
