The Sword Dancer (21 page)

His expression darkened with regret. ‘Forgive me.’

‘For this? After everything you’ve done,
this
is what you apologise for?’ She shoved at him and he took a halting step back. ‘What is it to you whether a man like Guan He lives or dies? He’s nothing to you.’

‘I don’t care about him,’ he said through his teeth. ‘I did what I did to protect you.’

‘Why?’ she demanded hollowly. ‘Because you’re so taken with me?’

His jaw tensed, hardening his already rough features. She could see the rise and fall of his chest as he considered his answer.

‘I am,’ he said finally.

There was no charm in his reply. Just a simple admission. Ignoring the knife, he bent and pressed his mouth against hers. She permitted the kiss, confused, not knowing why, or even when, she started kissing him back. She matched his passion with her own, inviting his tongue and the familiar taste of him. Like warmed wine and spices. He broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her breathless and yearning.

‘Kill me afterwards,’ he muttered, wrapping his hand around her wrist to shove the knife away.

He wasn’t teasing. There was no room left for any lightheartedness between them. Everything had become serious, as serious as death and life. She let the weapon fall to the ground and grabbed on to his shoulders with both hands.

Their movements were hurried. Inelegant. Pulling and tearing away clothes. No enjoyment of bared skin or soft touches. They disrobed enough for Han to lift her and enter her. The pain and pleasure of him pushing inside her obliterated everything.

He turned them as one and pressed her back against the wall, surging up and deeper into her. So deep she could feel him throughout her entire body. Li Feng closed her eyes with the torment of it. She had come here looking for
something
. It might as well be this.

He flattened his palm against the wall beside her. His tongue invaded her mouth and she welcomed it. His body
angled and strained against her with each thrust. She wrapped her legs around his hips to hold on to him. It seemed like nothing more than mindless desperation. Only in this act were they ever of one mind.

Li Feng looked up into Han’s eyes as he possessed her. A frown cut deep into his brow. His skin was damp, his pupils opaque and lost. She needed to be held like this, unable to flee, not wanting to move other than to urge him into her.

Her heart beat faster and she dug her nails into the muscle of his shoulders. If he stopped, she would die. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feel of him as the pleasure rose, to push herself over the edge. She felt his lips graze her cheek. A single moment of tenderness in this desperate union.

‘You love me.’ His breath was hot against her ear. ‘But you don’t want to.’

Sensation crested within her, rising to a point where darkness beckoned. She had no will to protest.

His body sank deep, holding her captive as she shuddered around him. He held on tight through it. He might have spoken her name in a choked whisper, but she could no longer hear. She was in her own world, alone.

As she came back to herself, he thrust once more and held himself deep within her. Every muscle in him tensed as he reached his peak.

Afterward there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, which was without rhythm or harmony. After a pause, Han gathered her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the pallet. His hand cradled the back of her head as he lowered her to the mat. Then he balanced on his arms to keep his weight from crushing her. The roughness of their coupling had given away to this sudden attentiveness.

Keeping his gaze on her, he followed the curve of her cheek with his fingertips until he was pressing lightly against her jaw. The area was tender and swollen. An ugly bruise would be forming there.

Why was she here? She hadn’t known the answer until that moment, with Han beside her as they stared wordlessly at one another.

She had convinced herself she would be dead by now, but she wasn’t. Li Feng took a deep breath, letting it flow through her lungs, her heart, her limbs. She was alive—and she was glad for it.

Han had pulled her back from death. She hated him for interfering, as much as she loved him for it.

Han’s gaze narrowed on her before he rolled on to his back to look at the ceiling. All the life seemed drained from him, as if he’d poured his essence into her in their frantic coupling.

They lay side by side without touching, though she could feel the heat of his skin no more than a breath away. A bandage was still wrapped around his left hand. It was the least of the injuries they had inflicted upon one another.

‘I’ve lost you,’ he said, his voice resonating so low she felt it sinking beneath her skin, into flesh and bone.

‘You never had me.’

‘I did.’ He turned to look at her. A smile played on his lips, slight and a little sad. ‘I did.’

She wished in that moment that he was still holding her, but it would be pointless when they had both all but acknowledged that they could have nothing more than this. The chase was over and Han was letting her go. Because he loved her.

Their clothes were still in disarray and the memory of their lovemaking refused to fade. To smooth out her tunic and tie her sash would mean the final closure and she wasn’t yet ready to be at their end.

‘I’m going once more back to the prefect’s mansion,’ she said.

‘Li Feng.’

Their heads were turned towards each other. She could see the contours of his neck. A pulse skipped steadily at his throat. There was such a thin barrier separating life and death.

‘I won’t go after Guan He.’ Killing him wouldn’t give her peace. She knew that now. ‘My mother is alive. I’m going to rescue her.’

Han sat up, his eyes wide with surprise. His robe was open at the front and the intimacy of the moment made her heart ache. She pulled herself up beside him.

‘And then I’m going to rescue my brother,’ she said. ‘Are you going to try to stop me?’

With Han, she could be honest. And she could rely on him for honesty in return. He was an adversary, but at some point he’d also become her friend. Her only friend. The world was full of contradictions and opposing forces.

‘I won’t stop you,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll help you.’

Chapter Nineteen

‘T
he magistrate will hold back the trial to wait for the constables to apprehend the third suspect,’ Han explained. ‘Once they go before the tribunal, sentencing and execution will happen swiftly.’

Li Feng didn’t flinch. ‘Then we have to rescue them tonight.’

Her expression was determined, absent of any sign of fear, but at least the fire had returned to her eyes. The Li Feng he knew had come back from the edge of death.

‘I know the layout of the yamen and where they’re being held,’ he said. ‘I’ll go there this morning to learn more about the guard detail.’

‘I have something I need to do as well,’ she said, refusing to elaborate.

She was still keeping secrets from him. At least Li Feng trusted him enough to accept his help, but she always kept a part of her locked away. He knew Li Feng would never be his, but still he longed for more of her. As much as she would give.

‘Be careful. Everyone in the city is hunting for you.’

She levelled her gaze on him. ‘I have some experience evading thief-catchers.’

‘The best of them, I hear.’ It was too hard to smile given the circumstances.

The constable’s men were scouring the city, hoping to make an arrest, but General Wang’s soldiers were out for blood. It wasn’t the first time Han had worked alongside someone, but it was the first time he cared more about his partner’s safety than his own. He had to trust in Li Feng’s abilities as they parted to their respective tasks.

* * *

The yamen was busy with activity that morning. Han’s face was becoming a familiar sight at the compound so he was able to enter without being challenged. He masked his intentions with a visit to the constable.

‘No progress on finding the sword dancer.’ Guo sighed heavily. ‘Searching through all the dancers and acrobats in the city has been a waste of time.’

Han kept his expression controlled. ‘The sword dancer is likely gone from Minzhou.’

‘I’m of the same mind as you. At least we have the co-conspirators.’

‘Did they reveal anything?’

‘Nothing yet, but the interrogations will start this morning.’

A brief turn about the prison house revealed two guards on the inside as well as two men stationed outside the doors. An additional sentry had been added to the detail due to the dangerous nature of the prisoners.

He was ready to leave when a summons came from the magistrate. Tan Li Kuo was conversing with his deputy magistrate when Han arrived at the study. The senior official waved his hands dramatically while he spoke while the deputy nodded, a grave expression on the younger man’s face.

Once the deputy left, Magistrate Tan turned to Han. He appeared in a huff, his rounded cheeks flushed pink. ‘I’m closing the tribunal for the day. Too many things happening all at once.’

Tan gestured for him to sit. The portly magistrate dabbed at his forehead with the edge of his sleeve, looking like he’d already run ten
li
that morning.

‘I’ve been dealing with General Wang’s soldiers. They’re demanding the prisoners be turned over for punishment. Wolves, all of them, but they have no teeth now that the head of the pack is down.’

‘Wang Shizhen survived yesterday’s attack?’

‘For now, it seems. He was moved to one of the inns and his men are standing guard in case of another attack. But on to other matters—what did Prefect Guan wish to see you about last night?’

Han was surprised at his interest. ‘Nothing of consequence. He was grateful for my service.’

‘As we all are.’ Tan nodded emphatically. ‘As we all are. How did he appear to you?’

‘He seemed shaken and distracted, though that’s to be expected.’ Han didn’t feel the need to mention the prefect’s unusual interest in Li Feng or his passionate outburst about his infatuation with a dancer fifteen years ago.

Even though they were alone, the magistrate beckoned him in closer. ‘Between you and me, there’s a scandal brewing here. Prefect Guan is trying to keep rumours from spreading. Bad for the city’s reputation, he says. He wanted the prisoners sentenced and executed secretly so there was no public unrest. Did you hear me? Secretly! As if we were the criminals. I had to shut the tribunal down until we can get this city under control.’ Tan wiped at his face again.

‘Is there any chance for leniency in this case?’

The magistrate’s eyes widened. ‘Leniency? I don’t see how that would be possible. This was a very vicious attack.’

‘But we are not yet aware of all the circumstances surrounding the crime. The
Book of Rites
states that one cannot co-exist under heaven with the murderer of one’s father. That he should strike him down in the street without going home to fetch a weapon.’

‘Ah, the scholar in you is showing. Why do you mention filial piety?’

Han had to be careful not to reveal too much. ‘One of the prisoners claimed to be avenging his father.’

Magistrate Tan stroked his beard, which appeared pitifully thin in contrast to the roundness of his face. ‘When considering wrongful death and revenge, there is an interesting parallel case. Not more than two generations ago, a man sought revenge for his father by posing as a courier in a relay station. His enemy was a senior official and when he came to rest at the station, the man killed the official and then immediately reported himself to the court. The public was moved by his loyalty and cried for leniency, but no one, not even the accused, could deny that he had committed a crime. How could the state let a murder go unpunished?’

‘But the state allowed the initial wrong to be committed,’ Han countered.

He was reminded of so many conversations with his father. Once Father had retreated from public life, he chose to tutor Han himself, hoping one day that his son would redeem the family name. Unfortunately, Han had been a poor student, always questioning as he was doing now.

‘Indeed! The magistrate on the case was caught in the same dilemma,’ Tan concurred. ‘The only solution was to execute the man for the killing, but honour him after death for his loyalty to his father. So you can see, a man on the path of revenge might be applauded for killing his enemy, but in the same breath he must willingly accept the consequences of his actions.’

‘But this attack wasn’t successful,’ Han pointed out.

‘A pity that,’ Tan remarked. ‘For the accused.’

The magistrate was no longer fidgeting. His hands were folded neatly in front of him and Han was unable to decipher whether he was speaking in the broader sense of the discussion or not.

‘Seeing that no one was killed, perhaps forced labour would be a more appropriate sentence,’ Han suggested.

Though the argument was a weak one, Han was determined to see if there was any chance for Li Feng and her brother. The magistrate had allowed Constable Guo a second chance, hadn’t he?

‘Guan He is an appointed official. An attack against him must be construed as an attack on the state,’ Magistrate Tan said sombrely. ‘Unfortunately, there is only one decision left to me in this case—whether it should be death by strangulation or death by beheading.’

He didn’t fault Magistrate Tan. These were not easy decisions to make. Han remembered the first and only execution he’d witnessed. As a boy, he had always been curious about his father’s profession.

A man had beaten a shopkeeper to death and had been sentenced for execution by strangulation. With the morbid curiosity of a boy of thirteen, Han had gone to the public square expecting to see a vile man, an angry man with violence in his eyes. He saw only a peasant who was as thin as a reed and so very afraid.

He had never seen fear like it. The man was trembling, his knees weak. The city guards had dragged him through the streets and placed him in front of the executioner like a pile of rag-covered bones.

In the years to come, Han would spend time among warriors who would talk about dying a good death. This was not a good death.

The executioner stood behind the accused and looped the garotte around his throat before jerking it cruelly back. After that day, Han’s mind had revisited the scene night after night until those few minutes stretched out to an hour, to an eternity. It took a long time before the wretched man stopped moving. Han should have looked away, but he couldn’t. He remembered every kick, every struggle. The accused man’s body continued to shudder even once he’d stopped fighting, hanging on to life long past the point his mind was already resigned to death.

Han never knew the rest of the story. Was the shopkeeper’s death an accident? Was it a crime of rage? He didn’t dare ask his father for the details. He wasn’t supposed to have witnessed the execution.

The next morning, he woke to find his lessons unfinished. The only characters he could summon were the ones that earned him a beating and then another beating:
‘I do not want to be a high-ranking officer.’

He didn’t want to have such power of life or death over strangers. It was a much different thing to face a man on a field of battle, with sword in hand.

‘It seems to me,’ Han began quietly, ‘that with this logic, the only recourse for a man of lower rank is to exact violence and be condemned for it. It’s no wonder that men grow angry. They turn to rebellion because they have nothing else to lose.’

Tan held up his hand, hushing him. ‘I know of the resentment you speak of and it is unfortunate, but let’s not forget that in the most difficult of circumstances, the law becomes even more important. Order must be maintained,’ he said solemnly.

‘But is order truly justice?’ Han questioned.

The magistrate sighed. ‘Perhaps not. But without order, there can be no protection for anyone. To sanction revenge as a means for justice would be to admit that the laws can no longer function. Do you believe that, Zheng Hao Han? That the state is broken and that man is free to make his own rules?’

Gone was the fumbling and exuberant personality that Tan Li Kuo often presented. Beneath that mask, the magistrate was observant, thoughtful and his question cut startlingly to the very core of Han’s doubts about the law, and about himself. Was Han the same as the bandits he hunted down?

‘No,’ Han replied, finding the answer deep inside from all of his father’s teachings, from all that he’d seen and done.

Despite its flaws and failings, he still believed in the necessity for the rule of law. Without the state, the land would be ruled by bandits and warlords. By men like Two Dragon Lo and Wang Shizhen who devoured the weak. This made what Han planned to do tonight even more difficult. He would have to fight against the very structure of what he believed in, but Li Feng and her family had been wronged and there was no provision within the law to set it right.

* * *

Li Feng waited for the customers to leave before stepping inside the herbal shop. Physician Wu Song was at the counter, in the process of wrapping up a parcel of ginseng. He looked up as she came close.

‘You recognised me,’ she said. ‘You knew my face when you approached me in the street.’

His pleasant expression changed, becoming almost grim. He moved to the window to roll down the blinds, shading the interior of the shop.

‘Young miss, you very much resemble someone I know.’

‘You must know my mother.’

An unreadable look flickered across the physician’s face. ‘Yes, I suppose I do.’

‘You should know that the city guard is searching for me,’ she warned. ‘Our association might put you in danger.’

‘I know that as well,’ the physician replied, unperturbed. ‘What do you need from me?’

‘Can you bring her a message? It’s of the utmost importance that you get word to her today, before evening comes.’

They moved to the back room to his writing desk. Her knowledge of characters was limited so she had to dictate the message to the physician. Her mother was being kept as a concubine in the prefect’s mansion. She belonged to him, according to the law. What Li Feng was planning was akin to theft and kidnapping, yet the physician’s brush moved over the paper without pause.

‘This servant has been admitted at certain times to the prefect’s mansion in order to see to the health of the household,’ Wu said. ‘If he will receive me today, I will deliver this message.’

His words had the solemnity of an oath.

Wu Song held the paper up to dry, then folded it once in half and then again with tidy creases before slipping it into the pocket of his sleeve.

‘Thank you. My family owes you a debt, honourable sir.’

He pushed up from the desk. ‘You should go now,’ he said gently.

From the first moment they’d met, Physician Wu had been protective of her, though Li Feng hadn’t known why until now. The man cared for her mother. Perhaps it was nothing more than the concern of a physician, but he’d also shown Li Feng a rare and simple kindness.

She had started to believe that such kindness didn’t exist in the world, but she was wrong. Wu Song was a good man. Han was a good man as well, too good of a man for her. She had been too blind to realise it until it was too late.