Authors: Cindy. Pon
Silver Phoenix (23 page)
Ai Ling laughed, her heart lightening with his good humor.
“Really, I’ve never been able to beat him. No one has. And my father’s family prides itself on its knowledge of shuen.
Even my sister was taught from a young age.”
Li Rong turned to his brother and shouted, “Enough showing off for our lovely companion. You’ve made me look bad enough as it is.”
Chen Yong finished with a final leap and kick, twisting around in a complete circle midair, arms flung over his head, fingers splayed wide, weightless before landing on his feet.
He pressed his palms together and bowed.
“The mantis takes its prey,” Li Rong said. He saw the confusion on her face and smiled. “It’s the name of that last move.”
Chen Yong also disappeared behind the house, emerging a few moments later. He strode toward them in long easy steps, as if he had not spent the last hour leaping about like a graceful leopard.
“He hasn’t talked your ear off?” Chen Yong asked. “Are you promised yet?”
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Li Rong thrust a pretend kick to his brother’s shin. “You need to marry before I do, old brother.”
Chen Yong’s smile dropped, the humor wiped from his face. Li Rong blanched, obviously regretting his jest. He leaped to his feet and slapped his brother on the shoulder.
“Next time, I’ll win. Ai Ling is my witness, and I can’t go back on my word to a beautiful woman.”
“Let me know if he bothers you,” Chen Yong said, amusement quirking the corner of his mouth.
But Ai Ling had not missed the pain that had pinched his features. Even if he had hidden the emotion in the span of one breath. He still cared for this girl, his childhood love.
She managed a tight smile and shook her head, hoping her mask was as persuasive as Chen Yong’s.
Li Rong laughed.
“I see you’ve charmed another one, little brother.
Impressive.”
The midday meal did not disappoint. The steamed silk-thread bread was light and slightly sweet. This was paired with cold spiced lotus roots and bean curd mixed with a savory minced pork sauce. She watched the two brothers dig in to the meal, eating voraciously. Ai Ling wasn’t used to competing at the table, but she fi lled her small porcelain bowl often, for fear the food would disappear.
But they need not have worried, as Rui returned with a second tray laden with fi lled plates.
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“The food is delicious, Rui,” Chen Yong said. “Did Lao Pan prepare this?”
The boy smiled shyly. His skin was dark, making his round eyes seem even brighter. He wore a black square cap on his head, similar to the seer’s. “My grandfather does not have time to prepare meals. I do. I must learn everything as his apprentice.”
Ai Ling clinked the eating sticks against her empty bowl in appreciation, and Chen Yong and Li Rong followed suit.
“It was a wonderful meal, Rui,” she said.
Rui bowed low, bobbing his head with obvious pleasure.
He retreated back into the house and returned with a tray of fresh-cut starfruit drizzled in honey.
“Are these from your tree?” Ai Ling asked.
“The last offerings of summer.”
She bit into the golden fruit; its five points tinged in green, savoring both the tartness of the fruit and the silken sweet-ness of the honey.
“I’m going to burst,” Li Rong said as he shoved another piece of starfruit into his mouth. He reclined fully on the bench with a groan, forcing Chen Yong to sidle next to Ai Ling. She was acutely aware of him, thinking of the last time he had touched her and how she had entered his spirit.
She edged away, fearing it would happen again.
She was grateful when Lao Pan emerged from his house.
He walked stiffly and carried her dagger nestled in his two outstretched palms. He presented the weapon to her.
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“I’ve imbued it with the most powerful chants of protection. It has also been bathed in an elixir to make it truly harmful to the undead. Any evil creature of this world can be hurt by it.” He bowed his head, and she did the same, feeling that it was appropriate in this moment.
She took the dagger and examined it. Her features reflected from its silver surface, warped. The stones glittered in the sunlight, and the end of the dagger looked even more honed at its dangerous point.
“Thank you, Lao Pan—”
The thin seer raised a hand before she could continue.
“You owe me your tale when it is fully told. It’s unusual for a girl your age to carry such a dangerous weapon, but from what you have told me, from what the lunar sticks would not tell, my efforts will not go to waste.”
Lao Pan clasped her shoulder, surprising her with his familiarity. “Take good care, Ai Ling.”
“I’ll send word to Master Tan when I return home with my father.”
“I’m certain it will be a most interesting journey,” Lao Pan said.
The seer and Rui saw them to the cave entrance. Ai Ling dashed through the tiger’s gaping maw, past the fountain in two giant leaps. Chen Yong laughed, and she looked back at him, pursing her lips into a pout before she realized it.
“You’d do the same if the venom had hit your cheek,” she said.
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“It looks like you’ve learned your lesson.” He smiled at her, ignoring her sharp glance.
Li Rong chuckled, and Lao Pan shook his head in amusement. “You weren’t the first curious victim, Ai Ling. Nor will you be the last,” he said.
Lao Pan and Rui waved farewell as they started down the path. The daylight provided a breathtaking vista of the terraced fields they had passed. Feng whinnied after he kicked a large rock over the edge, sending it tumbling. Ai Ling would be relieved when they walked on fl at ground again.
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Lao Pan’s cave was at least two hours’ walk behind them, when a shrill scream sent Ai Ling’s heart into her throat.
Chen Yong ran toward the noise; Li Rong followed with Ai Ling behind, astride the horse.
Four bodies lay in pools of blood next to an ornate overturned sedan. A richly attired woman struggled with a man swathed in dark blue, who ripped at the jewels on her throat.
The assailant turned glittering eyes toward them, the only feature revealed behind the hood pulled over his head. He took one look and bolted.
Chen Yong sprinted after him, only to be stopped mid-stride by a breathless protest from the woman. “Please, 125
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no! Let him go. No more bloodshed.”
She swooned, and Chen Yong turned back and offered his arm to steady her. The lady sobbed, her face ashen. But somehow she remained alluring. Her rouged cheeks and black eyeliner did not smear. Her dainty rose-colored lips quivered prettily. Ai Ling suddenly felt very plain and dirty next to this woman, elegant even in her distress. She dismounted and stood next to Feng, stroking his neck.
“You came just in time,” the woman said. Li Rong stepped forward and gallantly offered her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, holding the fabric gracefully in one ivory hand.
“He ambushed my attendants, then dragged me out of the sedan . . .” She paused dramatically as tears continued to stream down her face.
Ai Ling frowned. She remembered watching a similar scene in a play staged a few years back, only the distressed maiden wasn’t so pretty, as she was played by a man.
“Are they . . . dead?” The lady swayed toward Chen Yong.
Li Rong approached the men, bent down, and searched for a pulse. Ai Ling sensed no life in them. Dark blood seeped through their tunics; her stomach turned at the cloying scent.
“They were so loyal. They would never have run and left me alone with that villain.” She knelt trembling in the dusty road next to the bodies.
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