“I wasn’t going to steal anything.” He picked up a piece of silk from the pile. It had a half-finished painting of a sparrow on it. “What’s this?”
Zhi Lan snatched it back. “None of your business.”
They were scraps of primed silk from Master Dan, only about a hand’s width wide. Zhi Lan had used them to practice. Some turned out nice enough to make into fans, though she never had the courage to solicit a fan maker to mount and sell them for her. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be taken seriously. It was a business venture for later, when she and Master Dan had garnered more fame.
“If you’re this stingy with your work, how do you expect to make any money?”
“I don’t! Because petty thieves like you might rob me blind,” she shot back. She shoved the servant's clothes at him. “Hurry and change. The house will be awake soon.”
He looked down at the clothing. “You condemn stealing, yet these are stolen.”
Zhi Lan sputtered. “I-I’ll return them eventually.”
“How so? Will you have me strip in the road when you’re done with me?”
She resisted the urge to scream. This was utter madness. She was exhausted, but her heart and mind were racing. She didn’t want to think too hard about what she was going to do.
Zhi Lan directed him behind the screen. “Hurry. We should go before anyone else wakes up.”
“We?”
“I’m coming with you.”
There was a beat of silence behind the screen. “If it pleases you.”
None of this pleased her, but Zhi Lan didn’t waste her breath to argue. She quickly splashed her face with yesterday’s water and twisted her hair up with her pins. Then, she repacked her bag and looped her money pouch at her belt. Zhi Lan looked down at her current outfit—a simple bodice, a hemp outer robe, and an old skirt with wrinkled pleats. It would have to do. She doubted she needed to look all that presentable traipsing into a criminal lair. Or a demon’s lair.
“I ought to know your name, if we’re going to travel together,” she said, unnerved by the silence broken only by the soft swish of fabric.
The rustling from behind the screen paused. “It’s Shao Qing.”
It was a surprisingly boyish name, reminiscent of youth and springtide greens. It didn’t suit him at all.
“No family name?” Zhi Lan asked.
“I have no family.”
Not surprising. Zhi Lan wrung her hands together. She figured she should get one thing straight before stepping outside with him. And there was no polite way to say it.
“And what are you?”
Another pause. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Zhi Lan pressed her hand to her cheek. Who knew questioning a criminal could be so mortifying? “Your eyes. They’re...”
Her words trailed off when Shao Qing emerged.
He had removed his scarf, revealing a straight nose, full lips, and a well-defined jaw. The steel blue servant’s uniform he donned was simple, but in much better condition than his previous dirty robes, the neatly pressed lines complimenting his broad shoulders and narrow hips.
The stinky vagabond was handsome.
“Rest assured, Miss Nong. I am as human as they come,” Shao Qing said.
Zhi Lan nodded woodenly. Somehow she was even more convinced now that he was a demon. It didn’t make sense for a criminal to have such beautiful features.
She couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks, which irritated her. She refused to lose her head just because he had an uncommonly handsome face.
“Let’s go then,” Zhi Lan said.
