Ling set a basin of warm water down on the table next to a washcloth. Folding his legs beneath him he sat in front of Lan Fan. Secluded behind the closed doors of his study he lifted her chin up with his fingertips to have a look at her face. Lan Fan kept her eyes turned up to the ceiling during his inspection. There was blood crusted beneath her nostrils. Around her nose and in the hollows of her eyes her fair skin was a distressing shade of red. Hopefully, Mei could do something about the bruising; otherwise, Lan Fan would have two black eyes by tomorrow.
In the middle of the table was an incense burner crafted of jade and bronze. Ling struck a match to the incense within. Juniper scented smoke curled up from the censer. "Do you remember when you gave me a bloody nose?" Ling asked. He submerged the cloth in the water and wringed out the excess. Lifting her chin once more he carefully cleaned the traces of blood from her face.
"You kicked dirt in my eyes," Lan Fan replied.
"I did have it coming didn't I?"
Sighing for dramatic effect he rinsed the cloth in the basin. Blood clouded the water transforming it into a roseate solution. He folded the fabric in half twice, wiping the square down her pale throat. Ling was aware of how much she was indulging him. Lan Fan wasn't in the habit of letting others take care of her when she could do for herself. Maybe she'd have asked Jin to set her nose. The stable master had set his fair share of broken noses over the years. Only one of which Ling himself has caused. After all these years Jin still refused to practice hand to hand combat with him.
"I never knew your brother was eager to follow in your footsteps." Ling kept his tone conversational. "I'd say he has the makings of a fine bodyguard." Lan Fan's mouth twitched into an infinitesimal frown. If he wasn't looking for it he would've missed the glimmer of emotion. She was playing her cards close to the chest. He rinsed the cloth again and took her hand. There was dried blood beneath her fingernails. Ling noticed as he cleaned her hand she kept her nails neatly filed. Something she'd never bothered with as a girl. They'd always been torn and ragged. The most he'd ever seen her care for them was cleaning beneath them with the tip of a knife.
Each day Ling noticed more about Lan Fan. Little things he'd missed while he was busy taking her for granted. Ling knew the girl and the bodyguard, but Lan Fan the woman was an everlasting enigma. He caught glimpses of her as if behind a veil.
"I take it you don't agree?"
"Xiang will never be a bodyguard," Lan Fan answered. He'd read the trepidation on her, as clearly as words on a page, when Xiang insisted on displaying his fighting technique, but there was a finality to her tone Ling hadn't anticipated.
"I would've thought you'd be proud to have your brother among the guard."
"It's not that," she muttered.
"Then what is it?"
Ling laid the washcloth over the side of the basin. He leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his fist, as he regarded her. Lan Fan had a pensive air about her. Rather than look at him her eyes remained on the smoke rising from the incense. Ling took her hand again and pressed his thumb lightly against the inside of her wrist. The pulse in his thumb was indistinguishable from her own.
"Xiang is beloved in our family. He's sheltered in a way neither of us ever were. How could we be? There was so much at stake." Lan Fan brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Saying nothing Ling waited for her to continue. "My mother has already mourned a husband. Though they had their differences I know she grieved for my grandfather and she wept for weeks over my arm. I cannot risk depriving her of her only son."
Upon hearing the words he became deathly still. His mouth was dry as the desert. Ling wet his lips before asking the question he'd spent more than a decade avoiding.
"How did your father die?"
Lan Fan took a deep breath. She held it until her lungs burned for want of oxygen. There were plenty of reasons why she'd never spoken of her father with Ling. There was no avoiding the topic now when she was the one to bring him up. Not when his death played so heavily into her desire to protect her mother from any further loss.
Suyin couldn't survive another broken heart.
"He was stabbed during an assassination attempt," she explained.
"Who was he protecting?" Ling asked.
"It doesn't matter," whispered Lan Fan.
Realization struck him like a wave after a storm. She saw it wash over his face, leaving sorrow in its wake. "Your father was protecting me, wasn't he?" Ling released his hold on her wrist. "I always thought your mother despised me for what happened at the lake, but that was only half the reason."
"The man responsible for Feng Liu's death is long since scattered to the wind."
"He was your father." Ling insisted. "How can you not blame me for his death?"
"My father died with honor. If he'd lived I wouldn't be here with you. I'd have never trained with grandfather. The brothers I might've had would be your guards. My mother would never have married Liwei Zhang, and the brother I have now wouldn't exist."
She reached for him this time. Lan Fan was afraid he'd recoil, but he remained motionless as she touched her fingertips to his cheek. He hadn't kissed her since that morning beneath the oak tree. Despite how she longed for him she hadn't dared initiate a kiss of her own. Didn't dare speak his name though it lingered like honey on her tongue. Lan Fan brushed the pad of her thumb over his lips.
"Wishing for a different life for Xiang doesn't mean I'd choose any other for myself."
Ling placed his hand over hers.
There was a knock at the door.
The emperor sighed in frustration and the bodyguard retreated to a respectable distance.
Lady Xue sat before her vanity and considered her reflection. Though the hour was late the dowager empress was still dressed in a gown of imperial yellow silk. In her hair she wore ornamental flowers fashioned from gold and freshwater pearls. Xue wasn't a great beauty by conventional standards, but she knew how to play up her strengths. Picking up a delicate brush she touched up the color of her lips. There were few men at court who didn't desire a taste of her mouth. The door to her room opened. Xue didn't have to look to know it was her son standing in the threshold.
"Have you come to amuse me with tales of your day?"
"In a manner of speaking," answered Ling.
"I take it the young lord is no worse for wear?" she inquired.
"He's the resilient sort."
Ling stepped into the room shutting the door behind him. Tilting her head to the side she removed one of her earrings. Xue glanced at him in the mirror. Dressed in trousers and a changshan he reminded her of the young prince he was not so long ago. Xue returned her attention to her reflection before she lost herself in reverie.
The dowager empress took off her other earring and tucked the pair away in a drawer. Her son watched as she removed the adornments from her hair. Taking her hair down was always an arduous task. The tresses tumbled down her back in sections like unspooled ribbon.
"Is there something on your mind?" Xue asked, as she picked up her hairbrush.
While she brushed out the long strands she watched her child in the mirror. Ling crossed the room and settled his hands on her narrow shoulders. He caught her eye in the looking glass. The lantern on the table banished the shadows from his face. Xue saw a desperate desire there. The likes of which she hadn't seen since before he claimed the throne.
Taking the brush Ling ran it through her hair in smooth strokes. Xue was content to let him. The last time Ling did this he was still a child. As a boy he was fascinated by all the features they shared. They had the same nose and face shape. The same smile when they meant it. Ling had the previous emperor's eyes, as well as his strong build, but as far as Xue was concerned her son belonged only to her.
There was nothing she wouldn't do for him.
"Whatever it is all you need do it ask," Xue said should that truth have escaped him.
The brush passed through her hair once more before being set aside.
At last Ling spoke the words weighing on him.
"I intend to abolish the tradition of the fifty wives," he said.
Xue turned in her seat to face him.
"Have I not supported your every endeavor?"
"Would I still have your support if I told you I have intentions toward Lan Fan?" Ling asked. His features were etched with apprehension. Lady Xue folded her hands on her lap and considered his question.
"What do you need from me?"
