drawn towards these lesser-known houses, mixing with people like Li Bai Shen and his nameless friends. His father’s reputation glared too brightly in the renowned establishments along the main avenue.
The performers had already gathered in one of the parlours. One of their own sat at the centre, plucking the strings of a pipa. There was a cup of wine in every hand.
‘Chang Fei Long!’
A chorus of greetings rose up. A few he recognised as old comrades. Others were simply joining in with the crowd. They cleared away a spot at the table and he directed Yan Ling to sit beside him. She stared from one end of the room to the other with curious excitement.
‘Penalty drink,’ someone declared. ‘Penalty for arriving late.’
‘Hot tea,’ Fei Long said to the serving girl as she came to set more flasks on the table.
A round of jeers met his request, which he accepted good-naturedly.
‘Now hear this.’ Bai Shen quickly took position as the centre of attention. ‘Fei Long is a reformed and respectable gentleman now who has very honourably offered to pay for our drinks tonight.’
More cheers at that. Fei Long thought of the dreaded ledger book. More numbers to subtract, but he did owe this crowd a debt for whatever they had done to detain Minister Cao. He nodded graciously as a rain of toasts came at him.
Bai Shen was still going. ‘Now, I’ll take my punishment as deserved, but since his lordship is enjoying his tea, his servant there will have to drink for him.’
Someone pushed a cup into Yan Ling’s hand while Bai Shen looked on with great amusement. She peered at the clear liquid.
‘My lord,’ she whispered. ‘What is this?’
‘Baijiu.’ Fei Long was quite familiar with the distilled rice liquor that this crowd favoured.
‘All at once is how it’s done.’ Bai Shen lifted his cup to her. ‘I know how important it is for you to uphold the Chang family honour.’
Fei Long eyed the actor. ‘What are you playing at?’ he asked quietly.
His friend grinned before tossing back his drink. Yan Ling tried to do the same. She swallowed with difficulty. A moment later her eyes shot wide and her mouth contorted into a grimace.
‘It doesn’t taste so bad if you don’t make that face,’ Bai Shen said with a laugh.
The crowd roared with approval as she doubled over coughing. Fei Long closed a hand over her shoulder to steady her.
‘Are you all right?’
Yan Ling finally righted herself and looked at him, eyes watering. ‘Fine,’ she choked out. Then, ‘That was awful.’
She pressed her fingers to her throat in a gesture that was all too delicate. Already there was a slight flush to her cheeks that he couldn’t describe as anything but alluring. The party had resumed around them in a swirling mass of conversation. This crowd of actors likely recognised she was female, but they’d go along with the ruse.
‘I suggest you don’t do that again.’ He handed her some tea to help soothe her throat.
‘There’s no danger of that,’ she promised, taking a grateful sip.
But within minutes, the burning in her throat had eased and she decided that perhaps baijiu wasn’t so bad after all. A slow, not unpleasant warmth spread through her muscles. Someone else pushed a cup of warmed wine into her hands. She looked to Fei Long uncertainly, but he was in conversation with the fellow next to him.
Why did she have to ask for permission? She was always searching for approval and acceptance from him. It was exhausting.
This time she sipped slowly. Unlike the liquor, the wine was slightly sweet and the burn of it on her tongue was even enjoyable. Gradually the flush of it crept all the way to her fingertips and the crest of her cheeks.
At first she tried to follow the conversations as they were tossed across the room. There was poetry, interwoven with riddles, interwoven with bawdy insults. It was an intricate puzzle with no beginning, no end. She found herself smiling, nodding.
‘So you have to hear how we distracted the minister,’ Bai Shen was saying.
The room quieted somewhat to listen. Apparently several of the performers had been involved in the caper as well, but Bai Shen was designated as the storyteller.
‘We had three plans.’ He held up a finger dramatically. ‘One: delay him in the ministry building with a civil dispute. Two: if the first one failed, we’d pose as porters and carry his sedan off on a wild chase through the city. Three: we’d simply have to