My chest goes tight. I find it hard to breathe.
‘Are you well, Lady Jing?’
‘I’m fine.’ The cold crawls up my legs over my stomach and settles like a block of ice on my chest. I focus on trying to get air into my lungs.
‘Could you maybe, move over a little?’ Mr Lee’s voice interrupts me mid-gasp. He gestures to my side.
It’s only now I realise I’m standing in the middle of the narrow bridge, and he’s squashed up against the railing in an effort to maintain a proper distance between us. I shift to the right.
‘Maybe a tiny bit more,’ he encourages.
‘I already have!’ My voice is shrill. I’m breathing in gasps. I should run ahead. Leave the mortal. But something is wrong with my legs. I can’t move.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
I can only nod. The railing looms too close for comfort and yet, if Mr Lee gives me any more room he’ll end up in the lake. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a big step to the side.
When I open my eyes, the water laps the edge of the bridge. I imagine my foot slipping, the cold water slithering up my neck.Not real, I tell myself.Not real. But the chill rises within me, its flinty tang fills my mouth, covers my ears, until I can’t tell if the water closing over my head is imagined or real.
‘Lady Jing!’ Mr Lee’s voice is muffled, like I’m already submerged.
The icy dark has me in its grip.
When I open my eyes, I’m in the tea room off Old Zao’s kitchen, laid out on one of the rattan daybeds. Despite the summer heat, I’m shivering badly, toes burning with cold.I sit up. A thick layer of blankets tumble off me.
Old Zao bustles in with a cup of hot tea. ‘Oh good, you’re awake. Drink this.’
I wrap my freezing fingers around the china cup, try to press the warmth into me.
‘You gave us a fright.’ They touch the back of their hand to my forehead. ‘You need to warm up. I’ll make you some blood bao.’ Old Zao gives me a coy look. ‘You are escorting a mortal around Shanghai. Any chance he might have had a run-in with some jiangshi the other night?’
I laugh into my tea. ‘Please tell me you didn’t let anyone eat him.’
Old Zao waves their hand. ‘Some bodyguard you are. You know better than to dawdle on the bridge. Last time you were caught in the rain, your primordial qi was badly drained. You might be immortal, but you are not invincible.’
I hide my face and groan. ‘Don’t remind me. It’s not my fault he was dawdling on the bridge and gaping like a tourist.’
Old Zao squeezes my shoulder. ‘Come on. Your little mortal is eating xiao long bao in the kitchen.’
They help me up and keep hold of me until they’re sure I’m not about to faint again. My stomach makes a loud gurgling sound. When I enter the steaming kitchen, Mr Lee immediately stands. The heat warms my skin a little but doesn’t reach into that chill in my bones.
Old Zao takes up their position at the table and starts making my xiao long bao. They triple the regular dose of blood cubes for each dumpling. I join Mr Lee at the end of the table where Old Zao has set him up with his own basket of xiao long bao.
‘You are well?’
I nod. ‘Apologies for frightening you. I should have told you, I’m not good on bridges. I—’ I gaze down at my hands, try not to fidget. ‘I don’t like water.’
‘All water? Or just large bodies?’
‘In a glass is fine, or a bathtub. Anywhere else, no thank you.’ I sigh. ‘Don’t mention this to Big Wang, ok? I don’t want him to think I’m incapable of chaperoning a mortal.’
Mr Lee narrows his eyes. ‘Talking to you is like squeezing blood from a piece of jade. Does he know how water affects you?’
I’m still feeling woozy, panicky, and cold. ‘We don’t talk about it. I’m usually very careful not to let it affect me.’
Mr Lee stills, a xiao long bao half to his mouth. ‘If it bothers you so much, why did you bring me here? Surely there are other places we could eat.’
‘I live here. And Old Zao makes the best xiao long bao.’
