Inside the blacksmith shop the air was sweltering. It was late in the evening, the coals in the forge banked but not extinguished. The heavy door to the smithy was thrown open to allow the brisk autumn air to circulate in. Shu stood at a large roughhewn table pushed up against the backwall sorting through parchment. The man was tall and broad shouldered, well muscled from years of backbreaking work. Still handsome in the rough sort of way he'd had as a teenager with his hair in need of a trim and clothes marred with soot. A gust of wind blew through the shop, scattering a stack of papers. While collecting the loose sheets he caught a shadow of movement in his peripheral vision. When he turned he saw only a few errant leaves whirling in the breeze. Shu closed the door before returning the pages to the table. From a shelf above the workspace he fetched a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one off the flame of a candle. Shu took a slow drag, watching the tendril of smoke coming off the end. Enjoying his vice for a minute before looking up.
"Need something?" he asked with a smirk. Above him Lan Fan was perched on a rafter watching him. She'd come straight from her guard duty and was still bedecked in her uniform and mask. Lan Fan dropped to the ground in front of him and held out the documents she'd stolen from the Hall of Records. The spymaster put the cigarette between his lips and took them. He read silently. Whatever he thought of the documents he kept it to himself. Shu returned the cigarette to his hand and tapped the ashes onto the floor.
"You knew," Lan Fan accused.
"That you broke into a government building? No, you got that one past me." Shu rubbed at a smudge of ink on the birth certificate..
"Be serious." Lan Fan snatched the papers from him.
"You're serious enough for the both of us, Lan Fan." Finished with his cigarette he put it out on the leg of the table. "Not here."
An hour later they met outside the palace. Shu looked sharp in a western suit-he'd even put on a tie-and charcoal colored coat. In turn Lan Fan wore a cheongsam with a light jacket, gloves, and scarf. Already she regretted not bundling up properly. The icy wind cut through her clothes, her automail growing chill. Shu leaned against a lamppost smoking another one of his cigarettes. When he saw her he flicked the remainder into the gutter and straightened. He gave her a once over as she approached, then removed his coat with a flourish to drape over her shoulders. The wool held the faint scent of tobacco and sandalwood. Shu offered Lan Fan his arm. Not just his arm, but his right arm. She hesitated. He waited patiently, not saying a word, until she tucked her automail hand into the crook of his elbow. Hardly anyone was out at this hour and those that were paid them no mind as they walked the streets.
"Tell me everything you know," Lan Fan insisted.
"Everything I know? Now that would take awhile." Shu chuckled under his breath and Lan Fan glared at him.
"Fu was a good man. Kinder than most would give him credit for. Loved you more than anything in the world."
"Master Fu would never consent to me becoming a Zhang," Lan Fan said with more conviction than she felt. The truth was he witnessed the proceedings and said nothing to her about them. It didn't make sense. "Was he coerced?"
"Not in the way you're thinking. Do you know what I liked best about your grandfather?" Lan Fan shook her head. "He expected more of people, regardless of their circumstances. He trained you despite you being a girl, pushed you as hard as he would a boy. Probably harder so no one would question your abilities. Fu called me a street rat, but he didn't let me get away with sloppy swordsmanship."
"He'd hit you on the back of the head. Tell you to do better…"
"Precisely. Most of all he believed a lowly twelfth son could ascend to the throne and Xing would be better for it. He wasn't wrong."
"What does any of this have to do with being adopted into the Zhang clan?"
"Everything." They stopped in front of a bar Lan Fan was familiar with.
"Why are we at the Lindy Club?"
"Because you like it here," he answered matter of fact. The door swung open with a gaggle of people filing out for a smoke on the curb. Shu grabbed it before it swung shut and held it for her. Inside the nightclub was a flurry of activity. On the stage a live band played swing, the couples on the dance floor swept up in the face pace. The bartender had an easy night of it with the place half full. They sat at a table near the stage where their conversation would be drowned out. Shu ordered a whiskey for himself and plum wine for her from a passing waitress. "Don't be so cross with me."
"Don't be so meddlesome," she muttered. Lan Fan shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of her chair.
"I prefer observant," he said looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Stop scowling or people will think we're having a lovers quarrel. Do you know what the name Zhang gives you?"
"I know what it takes from me," she deflected.
"Do you? Being a Zhang gives you agency. It opens doors that otherwise would be closed to you. You have more choices than ever before. Possibilities." Shu took out his lighter, flipping it open and closed. He cut a glance at her. "Does that frighten you, Lan Fan?"
"I've fought literal monsters in battle. There's little in this world that frightens me."
"Yet a few pieces of paper upset you. You think they take something from you. Keep up Zhang, Lan Fan Liu. They didn't take your name from you, simply added another. Besides, a name doesn't change who you are. You're Lan Fan Liu, commander of his imperial majesty's elite bodyguards. You could still be Lan Fan Zhang, but you don't know who she is. Perhaps you're afraid to find out."
"Why didn't you tell me? You had no right to keep the truth from me."
He toyed with the lighter a moment longer before pocketing it. Leaning closer he took her hand and freed it of the glove. The knuckles were still covered in fading bruises of green and yellow. Shu held her hand and brushed his thumb over the mottled skin. His mouth was set in a hard line. When he looked at her she was unsettled by his intensity. She broke his gaze to look at their hands, thinking she should pull hers away. Lan Fan stayed still. "When you returned to Xing you'd lost your arm. Fu was dead. You left people in Amestris you cared for deeply. Any idiot could see you were in pain. I didn't tell you because it would only hurt you."
Shu pulled out an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. The wax on the back was broken, but Lan Fan saw it was stamped with the Zhang seal. Shu laid it on the table, sliding it over. The waitress returned with their drinks. Once she'd moved on to another table Lan Fan moved her glass aside and picked up the envelope. Inside she found a letter penned by Liwei Zhang, an official duplicate of her birth certificate, and a photograph. It was her in the picture. The one taken that afternoon before her informal debut as Liwei's daughter at Junjie Zhang's party. She stared at her fifteen year old self a moment before turning the photograph over. On the back her mother had written 'Lan Fan, Age 15.' Lan Fan unfolded the letter and read in silence. Once she'd read it twice over she put it away with the rest.
"This doesn't have to change anything. Not unless you want things to change."
She laughed dryly and ran her finger along the rim of her glass. Not looking at him she asked, "Does he know?"
"If he does he didn't learn it from me."
"I don't need protecting. It's not your job to protect me from things."
"It's my prerogative to protect Ling's interests and what's important to him. Besides, you should know he isn't the only one who cares about you. You're important to me as well, Lan Fan. I'd like to think after all these years you'd consider me a friend."
Lan Fan took Shu's whiskey when he reached for the glass. It went down smooth as she sipped it. Shu didn't know she'd never liked sweet wines. He didn't know everything about her and she felt a bit of triumph in that knowledge.
"More like cohorts," she said. The band struck up Moonlight Serenade. She finished his drink and stood to leave. Shu stood as well and caught her hand. The glove still lay on the table. His skin was warm on her own. He stepped around the table, settled his other hand on her waist. Lan Fan looked up at him with a frown. "What are you doing?"
"When was the last time you danced?" Shu maneuvered her onto the dance floor. In the low lighting his brown eyes looked obsidian. Shu regarded her with fondness and a hint of desire she pretended not to see. Lan Fan thought she should look away from those eyes that pierced through her. Even when they weren't together he had eyes on her. She didn't know how to feel about that. Lan Fan turned her attention to the couples dancing nearby. All of them looked terribly intimate. She wondered if they looked intimate as well. The thought brought color to her cheeks. Lan Fan knew they ought to stop, that she ought to put a stop to this, but she hadn't danced with anyone else since Amestris. Trusting Shu to lead she shut her eyes and envisioned the steps in her mind.
"We make a good team." Under the pretense of keeping their conversation hushed he pulled her closer. His words were whispers in her ear. "Always have when it comes to looking after Ling."
"Emperor Yao," she corrected out of habit. Even now he was still appallingly informal when it came to the former prince. Once she'd come close to cutting off his hand when he'd had the audacity to point and laugh at Prince Ling. He'd been lucky she was too busy stifling her own laughter. It wasn't every day you saw royalty spitting dirt with grass stains on their clothes; Ling's own fault for trying to show off a jump reverse hook kick after a rainshower. She bit back a smile at the memory and looked up at him. Shu looked right back. His eyes fell to her mouth then his lips were on hers and Lan Fan forgot to breathe.
