The Sword Dancer (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
n Buddhist thought, small actions had far-reaching consequences across distance, across time. Han hadn’t spent much time pondering on such implications in the spiritual realm, but as a thief-catcher he knew that every action left a mark. No matter how faint the trace was, it could be sought out and mark upon mark would link together to create a trail.

In the weeks that followed, Han discovered such seemingly insignificant details. There had been a simultaneous disturbance outside of the prefect’s mansion right before the attack, but the perpetrators appeared to be nothing more than a street gang, throwing rocks and insults before being chased away. In the light of the more serious crime, the incident was overlooked.

A group of wine merchants from out of town left unannounced from their rooms at the inn. A well-respected physician quietly closed his shop and left Minzhou, taking his vast store of herbal remedies, as well as his knowledge of perhaps a few poisons, with him.

Han chose not to pursue these leads. There were more urgent matters that required his attention. An investigation into the prefect’s death had, as Magistrate Tan predicted, uncovered a trail of smuggling, bribery and corruption. Records at various salt wells had been falsified to report lower production and salt agents were paid off to turn a blind eye. There were arrests, interrogations, trials. As for the warlord, Wang Shizhen retreated west to recover from his wounds.

The crafty Magistrate Tan, whose methods were often unconventional, proved to be at heart an upstanding bureaucrat.

‘When I first came to this position five years ago, Guan He was on his best behaviour,’ the magistrate recounted. ‘The records from the salt works show the prefect must have attempted to pull back on his activities, but after a few years he became confident enough to continue his smuggling activity. Now our land is free of one more corrupt official. Minzhou must prepare itself for the newly appointed prefect, approved by the Emperor himself.’

‘I’m surprised that you weren’t promoted, given your effort to expose corruption within the prefecture,’ Han replied.

‘No, no!’ Magistrate Tan waved away that notion with good cheer. ‘One needs to bring in officials from outside to ensure honesty. One without any local connections. I’ve made myself too much at home here.’

From what Han could see, Tan Li Kuo was caught up in the spirit of reform that had been stirred up by Emperor
Xuanzhong.

At the end of the third week, two familiar faces appeared at the magistrate’s yamen. Father had brought Chen-Yi to begin his studies in Minzhou. His younger brother was taller than Han remembered, no longer a boy, but not quite yet a man. His expression had grown more serious with age.

Father appeared thinner than Han remembered. His cheekbones were more pronounced, giving him an even more imposing look. His black hair showed hints of silver and his beard was neatly trimmed. Even dressed in the plain grey robe of a peasant, the man commanded respect.

As they met in the centre of the courtyard, Han was stricken by the similarities between the three of them. In Chen-Yi, he could see himself in the past, in Father, his future. He was caught in a feeling of inclusion and closeness that he had sorely missed being away from them so long.

Han bowed his head as a sign of respect. ‘Father.’

‘Hao Han.’

They stood side by side as Chen-Yi went to speak to Magistrate Tan.

‘Your mother sends her regards,’ Father said.

‘How is Mother?’

‘Well.’

Outside of passionate discussions about the law and the classics, Father always used words sparingly.

‘She will be happy to see you settled,’ Father said. ‘This appears to be a good position for you.’

‘Magistrate Tan is an admirable official.’

There was a pause as they stared at the door to the magistrate’s office. Then Father cleared his throat loudly. ‘Your mother is eager to know when you’ll start a family.’

A weight lifted from Han’s chest. The conversation didn’t seem like much, but given that Father had come in person and was speaking as if they had never parted, this was acceptance.

‘I can’t say for certain,’ Han replied. When he thought of his future, there was only one person he could imagine beside him. He didn’t know where Li Feng had gone to or how she would react if he was able to find her. ‘But perhaps there will be news soon.’

* * *

One month went by and then another, through the plum rain season and the swelter of the summer. With the passage of time, Han’s ability to track Li Feng decreased, but so it would be for anyone else who had an interest in hunting down the mysterious sword dancer and the fugitive assassins. Neither Li Feng nor her brother, nor her mother were free of suspicion.

Though Han and Magistrate Tan were often of similar mind, they were not completely in each other’s confidences. The events of the prison break remained an unspoken topic between them. In retrospect, Han and Li Feng had been successful because someone had reduced the guard patrols at the prison house. Similarly, the watchmen at key points along the river happened to be called away from their stations to receive detailed instructions about the escaped fugitives, at the very same moment those very fugitives floated by on a black painted boat.

Han suspected the involvement of someone with influence, but he let Magistrate Tan keep his secrets. Han had plenty of secrets of his own.

After three months, Han set out. The markers were still there, if one chose to look. There was a ferryman who recalled a widow travelling with her son and daughter across the flooded river. A brother and sister performed a remarkable acrobatic routine to earn some money during the dragonboat festival in another town. In a mountainside village, a young woman lowered herself over a cliff to rescue a child who had fallen. The child was huddling on a ledge and it was said the woman stepped over rocks and tree branches with the lightness of a bird.

* * *

Han set foot in the village just before nightfall. It was a small, remote location in the shadow of the mountain, the sort of place where everyone knew everyone and there were no walls surrounding or separating the houses. The villagers prospered from the harvesting and processing of tea as the dampness of the mountain air was perfectly suited for tea plantations.

The river ran through the centre of the village with shops and houses situated on either side of the water. Several bridges connected the two sides. Han stabled his horse and headed for the local tavern to seek the usual information, but he found that this time his interrogation techniques weren’t necessary.

The proprietor of the herbal shop was closing his doors for the day just as Han passed by. A woman stood beside him, her hand on his arm. Han presumed her to be the man’s wife, yet there was something about the way she held herself, the graceful turn of her wrist, the tilt of her jaw and the arch of her back.

Han’s heart slammed into his ribs. Li Feng had married a country doctor. She’d found happiness elsewhere just as he’d told her to in his stupidity.

But the woman turned around and Han saw that she wasn’t Li Feng. She was Li Feng’s reflection. Her mother.

A figure darted across a nearby footbridge, moving with the lightness of the breeze. By the time he’d reached the end of the row, Li Feng was already up on the roof. He searched left and right for possible footholds, confounded. How did she always manage to climb so quickly?

‘Li Feng!’ Han watched from the street as she leapt from shop to shop. ‘I’m not here to arrest you.’

Perhaps that wasn’t the most reassuring thing to hear from a thief-catcher. The sound of her laughter trailed down to him as she climbed on to the second storey of the tea house. He had no choice but to chase after her, going into the tea house and up the stairs.

He made it on to the roof and took a few tentative steps, finding his footing on the uneven tiles.

Li Feng was sitting near the apex of the rooftop. Her posture was relaxed, feet planted against the downward slope, arms resting casually about her knees. She laid her head down on them, looking at him sideways.

‘You found me,’ she said.

‘I’ll always find you.’

Her eyes were bright as he came and lowered himself down beside her. From there, they could see across the river to the shops on the other side. He let himself breathe in the mountain air and absorb Li Feng’s presence next to him. He had been determined to journey all the way to Mount
Wudang if that’s where she had gone. There were times when he’d doubted his abilities. Or he’d feared that when he found her, Li Feng would disappear again and it would be the final sign that she didn’t want him after all.

He took this moment now to fill in the emptiness of the last few months, letting his eyes take in the sight of her.

‘I thought of you,’ Li Feng said finally. She wriggled her toes within her slippers, the only girlish gesture he’d ever recalled from her.

‘I thought of you as well,’ he said, feeling like a pale-faced scholar.

The emotions that rushed into him upon finally seeing her overwhelmed him. They were like new lovers too afraid to look directly at one another.

‘I always knew you would find me,’ she said. ‘But why did it take you so long?’

His heart warmed. He had missed those expressive eyes and the playful way her lips twisted. With her admonishment, it was like old times again.

‘I had to recover from being shot in the back. For you,’ he reminded her. The shoulder still ached sometimes when he moved that arm.

‘Let me see.’

‘See?’

Han angled his shoulder towards her and her hands slid beneath his robe to pull back the cloth. He’d forgotten how uninhibited she could be. Li Feng’s fingers brushed carefully over the spot where the arrow had pierced him. Her touch was cool against warm flesh.

It had been a long time since he’d held her. Too long since they’d touched, yet while he was being practically disrobed on a rooftop by the object of his daytime thoughts and his night-time dreams, it wasn’t desire that consumed him.

He watched her face, that curious expression he’d missed so much, and took in a breath to fortify himself.

‘Marry me,’ he said quietly.

* * *

Her hands stilled on him. Han’s body tensed as he waited for her answer, but her lips couldn’t seem to form the words that her heart wanted to shout.

Li Feng traced the raised edge of the scar on his back, partly to bide some time, but also because it felt so good to touch him after so long. Her brother had told her how Han nearly passed out when they’d removed the arrow, but he’d forced himself to remain conscious and to continue. The escape wasn’t yet successful and Thief-catcher Han was relentless when there was a task at hand.

‘You want me to be your wife?’ she asked incredulously.

‘I want you to be my everything.’

Her chest squeezed tight. ‘How can I?’ she asked. Which wasn’t at all what her heart wanted to say.

When he faced her, his look was playful, though apprehension gripped him. ‘Well, you’ve stopped running at least.’

‘But what will you do? Will you hide here with me, away from the world?’

‘We’ll live in Minzhou,’ he said matter of factly, as if there were no difficulty. As if she were a country girl who had caught his eye and all they needed to wed would be permission from their respective families. ‘I have a position there working for the magistrate’s office. A steady income, enough to start a family.’

She wanted to laugh. When they’d first met, he’d hunted her down across the province and vowed to arrest her. Now he came here as if he were a lovestruck youth.

‘Han, I’m wanted for attempted
murder
in Minzhou,’ she reminded him.

The fact didn’t deter him. ‘Prefect Guan is dead.’

‘Dead?’

They had purposefully travelled far into the mountains, to a village that was quartered off from news from Minzhou. Li Feng was surprised to hear of it, but didn’t grieve for him. The prefect had determined his own fate.

‘Hopefully this will bring Liu Yuan some peace,’ she said.

‘Where is your brother?’ Han asked.

She cast him a wary glance.

‘I’m not here to arrest him either,’ Han insisted. ‘I’m enquiring out of courtesy. And since he is the head of the family, perhaps I should ask him for permission to marry you.’

Han was certainly persistent. Li Feng hid her smile as she replied. ‘Liu Yuan left shortly after we settled here. He’ll be back one day, once he finds his own sense of peace.’

They had learned of her mother’s life as the prefect’s concubine. The very man who had brought about her father’s death had intervened to set aside her sentence and proclaimed his love for her. It was too much to bear and Mother had at first begged for Wu Song to give her poison to end her suffering. The kind-hearted physician had refused and he’d become her confidant and friend. When Wu had come to find them in this remote village, he finally revealed the secret feelings he’d harboured for so long.

Her mother’s newfound love freed Li Feng to find her own happiness, but also saddened her. She’d given up her heart to a man of honour and principle, who could never be with an outlaw like her. Yet there were nights when Li Feng hoped that her past crimes, if nothing else, would bring Han to her. Theirs was always the oddest of romances.

‘Even though the prefect is dead, that doesn’t negate the crime,’ she pointed out, echoing his own words back at him. ‘I’ll be recognised for certain.’

‘Only the prefect’s household knew of your mother and anyone associated with Guan He has left the city in disgrace,’ Han told her. ‘As to the incident at the banquet, the official warrant is for a man who was wearing a woman’s costume.’

‘How—?’

‘Because no woman could possess such sword skill,’ he finished blandly.

She seethed. ‘Of all the ignorance! The sword is a soft weapon, suited for speed and precision rather than brute strength—’

‘Li Feng.’ He had to say her name twice before she would listen. ‘Li Feng, you haven’t given me an answer. I would like very much for you to be my wife.’