done was mending her own clothes. Perhaps a tiger was a bit ambitious.
There was a brief rest for the midday meal, which Fei Long conspicuously took in his study. A tray of food went in and an empty one was carried out. Yan Ling stabbed her thumb while watching the attendant open and close the door.
Many hours later, the study door opened again. She paused from sewing to see Fei Long leaving with a large wooden case under his arm. He didn’t see her this time…or didn’t want to see her. She watched, unacknowledged, until he disappeared out into the courtyard.
* * *
It was late. Very, very late.
Dinner had been hours ago. Afterwards, she’d taken her position in the parlour again, listening for sounds in the courtyard to indicate someone had arrived. Her skinny tiger with the crooked tail was nearly done and she was beginning to fret. Actually, she had begun to fret hours ago. She went to seek out Dao, who had just retired to her room.
‘He must be out at a teahouse or something,’ Dao said irritably.
‘Are you certain?’
‘No, I’m not certain. But it’s not my place to wonder where Lord Chang is at every hour.’
Like you’ve been doing, came the unspoken reprimand.
Dao glared at her, but Yan Ling was too worried to be intimidated. Fei Long never told anyone where he went, but he usually wasn’t gone so late.
Perhaps he had decided to go to one of the entertainment pavilions of the North Hamlet that night. He had seemed hopeful about his business deal. Maybe it had gone well and he was now celebrating in a cloud of wine and courtesans. Jealousy tore at her with scarlet-manicured nails, but her anxiety far outweighed any thoughts of other women.
‘I’m worried,’ she told Dao.
Dao narrowed her eyes, but relented and came over to wait with Yan Ling in her room. They passed the time by setting up a xiangqi board, but Dao captured so many of her pieces so quickly that Yan Ling knew she wasn’t presenting much of a challenge.
* * *
Another hour passed and Yan Ling couldn’t sit still any more. ‘Something’s wrong,’ she insisted.
‘Nothing is wrong.’ But even Dao sounded a little uncertain.
‘We can ask Old Man Liang.’
‘No. He’s asleep by now.’
‘But he might know where Fei Long has gone.’
Dao gave her the eye, both for using Fei Long’s given name and for suggesting they disturb Liang with her trivial worries. The steward was the eldest member of the household and was afforded a special place of respect because of it.
Yan Ling won the argument, mainly because she rushed out of the room before Dao could stop her and Dao wasn’t undignified enough to wrestle her to the ground in the hallway. Old Man Liang had a private chamber in the back of the house and Yan Ling slowed to a tiptoe as they neared his door.
Dao crowded in behind her. ‘You’re being foolish,’ she reprimanded in a hushed voice.
Yan Ling tapped very lightly and respectfully on Old Man Liang’s door. It opened without pause. The steward was still fully dressed and a cascade of lantern light glowed from behind him. He had been awake as well.
She was no longer worried. She was outright afraid.
‘My lady.’ He stroked his beard fretfully.
‘Old Liang, do you know where Lord Chang could be?’
The wrinkles about his eyes deepened. ‘I can’t say.’
Her heart raced with growing panic. ‘Can’t say? What’s happened?’
Yan Ling didn’t know if he was worrying her, or if it was she who was agitating him, but the old man clasped his hands together. ‘Why would you think something has happened?’ he asked.
‘Liang,’ she began sharply, mustering enough authority to border on disrespect. ‘Tell me.’
‘Lord Chang wanted to be discreet, but he’s been gone for so long!’
The steward’s dilemma had frozen him into inaction. Fei Long wanted secrecy and Old Liang was loyal and tight-lipped above all else. In his eyes, the threat of losing face was worse than the threat of physical harm.
‘Where has he gone?’ Yan Ling asked.
‘Yes, tell us!’ Dao joined in as well.
‘He went to the lower canal district.’
She turned to Dao. ‘We’ll go look for him.’
Dao paled. ‘That’s a bad area, Yan. We can’t go there alone at night. The ward gates are closed.’
‘It’s likely nothing,’ Old Man Liang insisted. ‘Lord Chang must be late coming home, that’s all. He’s gone out for a night of leisure.’ He scratched at his beard nervously while he spoke.