his shoulders eased. He’d been right about Yan Ling. She was a practical, logical woman. They were partners in this. Only she was audacious enough to carry out the ruse and she wouldn’t abandon him.
She fidgeted as his gaze lingered. ‘The tea is ready,’ she deflected. ‘Let us drink.’
They enjoyed their tea for a few peaceful moments. The stillness was welcome after all the drama that morning. A careful tap on the door interrupted the silence, but by then the throbbing in his skull had settled.
‘Old Man Liang. Come in.’
His father’s steward entered in a black robe and cap. He carried a thick ledger book, almost larger than he was, with a wooden abacus balanced on top. Liang had always been there at his father’s side, older than time. And he’d always looked the same: same thin nose, same tapered beard hanging down to his breastbone. The widening bands of grey in it seemed to be his only signs of ageing.
Liang paused at the sight of Yan Ling. Fei Long had already explained her role to all of the servants as well as the old steward. That had been accomplished in the morning before his confrontation with Lady Min. They also knew that discretion was most important.
‘Enquire today at the Temple of the Peaceful Lotus,’ he told Liang. ‘Tell the abbess that Lady Min wishes to join them and prepare a donation of alms to the temple.’
Across from him, Yan Ling straightened. Her eyes lit with surprise.
‘I’ll go tell Lady Min.’ She set her tea down and rose to her feet.
Excitement brought a vibrant glow to her cheeks and he refrained from admonishing her for ending the meeting without taking proper leave. At least she remembered to bow to Liang, before rushing out the door.
He still had much work to do with her.
Fei Long got up to move to the desk. He and the steward had planned to go over all of the accounts that morning, without the protective smoothing over of details that Liang had practised with his father. It was poor etiquette to give bad news plainly, but Fei Long needed to know the truth about the family finances.
Old Man Liang seated himself and took his time opening the record book and sliding the counters on his abacus back to starting position. The steward coughed once and cleared his throat.
‘My lord is most generous.’ He stroked his grey beard, a habit that Fei Long had come to recognise as a stalling gesture. ‘However, there may be a problem making a donation to the temple as well as a few of the other payments.’
* * *
It wasn’t until that afternoon that Fei Long was able to summon Yan Ling before him again. She was dressed in one of Pearl’s hanfu robes. The cloth hung loose as Yan Ling was thinner than his sister. The embroidered sash accented her slender waist and hips.
He stood in the parlour at the front of the house as she tried to negotiate the layers of yellow silk past the entranceway. This was supposed to be a reprieve from the dire financial figures Old Man Liang had thrown at him, but Fei Long almost wished himself back in front of the cursed ledger book as Yan Ling stepped on the edge of her own skirt. The cloth pooled around her feet as she tried to move forwards, wrapping about her ankles until he was certain she would topple. Fortunately she didn’t. She kicked at the train, much like—heaven help him—one would kick a stray dog. He raised a hand over his mouth.
‘Are you laughing at me?’ she demanded, looping the long sleeves once and then twice about her arms so they would no longer whip about while she moved.
‘No.’
He was most certainly grimacing behind the shield of his hand. He lowered it and held out his arm to catch her as she stumbled into the room.
‘This must be the sort of fancy garment only worn for big festivals,’ she surmised.
He ground his teeth together. ‘This is what Pearl wore nearly every day.’
She shot him a look of disbelief. ‘This is not a robe. This is three robes.’
He was not going to lower himself to untangle her from the net of silk she’d woven about herself.
‘Dao.’
The girl came running from her unseen location in the hallway. ‘My lord.’
He tossed a curt nod in Yan Ling’s direction. Dao rushed to her and worked to straighten out the hanfu, smoothing out the sleeves and rearranging the train. Yan