Then it was morning and Shao Qing had gone back to his usual strange self, and Zhi Lan wished she hadn’t done anything at all. She had momentarily grown soft toward him and the darkness of night had made her bold. Besides, Zhi Lan was not immune to the appeal of handsome men. It was a difficult situation for any girl to be in. She had merely lost her head in that moment.
“It’s early,” Shao Qing said, startling her from her thoughts.
“Yes, what about it?” Zhi Lan asked.
After inquiring about directions to Magistrate Li’s manor, they finally stood before the abode in question. It was almost identical to Magistrate Bu’s. Many of the rich had their courtyard houses laid out and decorated in the same styles. This, however, was on another level. The calligraphy pasted on the doors read “Patience and Virtue” while Magistrate Bu’s had read “Fortune and Virtue”. Even the color of the roof tiles matched. They reallywerein the middle of some sort of petty bureaucratic feud.
The only difference Zhi Lan could gauge was the greenery bursting from over the manor walls. She spotted the boughs of a willow tree setting loose sprightly green leaves into the wind.
Shao Qing studied the outer gates. “It’s not an ideal time to do what we have to do.”
“But if we wait until it’s dark, it’ll take another full day to return,” Zhi Lan said impatiently.
Here she was, in an entirely different city while Master Dan was suffering under Magistrate Bu’s bad temper all by himself. Zhi Lan itched to get this over with. Soon she’d have the painting in hand, appease Magistrate Bu, and continue to benefit from his patronage and make a name for herself. And she’d never have to associate with criminals again. Especially not stinky, callous, and unbearably handsome ones.
“We don’t have to wait until dark,” Shao Qing said. “Today is washing day.”
Zhi Lan blinked. She had nearly forgotten, even though her hair was starting to feel unclean.
Every fifth day was washing day. Everyone in office and most civilians took the day off to bathe, either at the public bathhouses, or if one was very rich, in their own homes. In Zhi Lan’s village, everyone washed up at the river. There was always a lax energy to the day, as if the entire empire had agreed on a collective vacation.
“You’re lucky,” Shao Qing said. “Today is the safest day for thieves, even the novices.”
Zhi Lan was surprised that someone who clearly didn’t bathe remembered what days were washing days. “So...when doyoubathe?” she ventured to ask.
He glanced at her. “Does it matter?”
“It matters if I have to smell you.”
He merely shook his head and continued walking down the street. “We’ll wait until it’s closer to noon for the changing of the guard. The servants will be busy in the kitchen and the magistrate will likely be bathing.”
“What do you propose we do until then?”
“I’ll get us a change of clothes.”
Zhi Lan looked down at her white robes and Shao Qing’s pale blue ones. Both were still clean and intact. “Why?”
“White is too conspicuous.”
Shao Qing stuck out a hand, and it wasn’t until a second later that Zhi Lan realized he was asking for money. With a long suffering sigh, she dug into her pouch and gave him the appropriate amount of coin.
“Get us something to eat. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes,” he said, then promptly disappeared into the market down the street.
Zhi Lan scowled at his retreating form and walked into the market after him. A part of her didn’t trust him to go off on his own, but shewashungry. And it probably wasn’t smart to thieve on an empty stomach.
After purchasing two green onion pancakes from a nearby vendor and devouring hers in less than a minute, Zhi Lan spotted a market stall stocked with pots of pigment and brushes. She thought of Master Dan. His brown pigmentwasalmost gone—she hadn’t lied about that in her letter.
Zhi Lan approached the stall. A fresh-faced young man in blue robes beamed at her from behind his wares.
“Anything here that interests you, young miss?” the stall owner asked. “I have pigments from fresh roses that will complement your complexion.” He gestured to the pots of pinks and rouges on one side of the stand.
“Do you have cinnabar brown?” Zhi Lan said.
The stall owner smiled wider. “I do believe your eyes and brows are arresting as they are.”
Zhi Lan blushed and fidgeted. She never could handle such bold-faced market flattery, even if she knew it was all to make a sale. “It’s to paint with, sir.”
“Indeed!” He moved to the other side of the stand with the painting supplies. “Are you an artist, miss?”
