10 – Shao Qing
Adistracted guardwas a thief’s best friend. That was the first lesson Yao had taught him.
As the guards before Magistrate Li’s manor were chatting, Shao Qing counted enough footholds in the wall to get himself onto the roof. Just like Magistrate Bu’s manor, the west wall was covered in flourishing vines.
“I don’t know how to climb,” Zhi Lan whispered, a panicked note in her voice.
Shao Qing produced the coil of rope he had hidden around his middle. He had snagged an abandoned clothesline after purchasing the green robes, looping one end around his hips and wrapping the rest around his torso. He unfurled it now.
Zhi Lan stood very still as he slipped the other end around her waist and secured it with a sturdy knot.
“When I make it to the roof, climb up after me,” Shao Qing said.
“What part ofI don’t know how to climbdid you not understand?”
“Hold onto the rope and brace your feet against the wall.”
Shao Qing wedged his foot into a deep crack in the stone, tested the strength of the vines above him, and began his ascent. His senses sharpened as he went through the familiar exercise of finding a foothold and pulling himself up. He reached the top in a few minutes. Flattening himself against the roof of the west house, the boughs of a willow tree brushing his back, Shao Qing peered down at Zhi Lan, motioning for her to follow.
She looked as if she wanted to run, but after a moment, seemed to steel herself and grip the rope. Shao Qing watched her unsteady ascent for what felt like hours. Her hands finally appeared over the eaves. He pulled her up and Zhi Lan flopped gracelessly on her belly beside him, scraping the tile with her feet and panting like she was starved for air.
She was the worst thief he’d ever seen. Shao Qing wondered if they were going to make it out of this alive. Though he had to admit, the threat of possible death made this rather enticing.
Shao Qing turned and assessed the front courtyard. Servants ran to and fro, carrying buckets of steaming water to the main wing—most likely for a bath. Some were sweeping away the fallen willow leaves from the winding stone path in the garden. No one glanced up, too busy with their menial tasks. The masters of the house seemed to be within the rooms.
Shao Qing shifted onto his feet and walked silently along the ridge of the roof to the main house, keeping low. It was likely anything precious would be stored there. This was no planned heist—he could only act on his own instincts. Zhi Lan followed close behind, still sounding short of breath.
“Let’s go down,” Shao Qing said once they were on top of the main house.
“How?” Zhi Lan whispered.
Shao Qing glanced at yet another willow tree behind them. There was a convenient branch a foot away from the roof. It looked sturdy enough to bear their weight.
She paled. “There’s no way.”
“It’s the only way.”
There were fewer servants in the back courtyard. Shao Qing waited until they cleared before he straightened and stepped onto the tree. Zhi Lan buried her face into her hands and took a deep breath before following suit. She wobbled violently on the branch as she placed one foot in front of the other.
Shao Qing reached forward to steady her, but a loose piece of bark rolled beneath his feet.
In the next second, he was falling, the ground hurtling toward him and the wind rushing past his limbs.
All at once, the rope around his middle yanked taut, halting his fall with bruising force. The breath was squeezed from his lungs. Shao Qing managed to look up through the momentary pain.
Zhi Lan straddled the branch above him, clinging onto the rope that connected them so tightly her knuckles were white. He hung suspended from her hold alone. She was stronger than he’d suspected. Shao Qing motioned for her to lower him, but she shook her head vehemently.
He looked down.
A servant girl passed by with a bucket of water. Shao Qing dangled directly above her head.
He had been inordinately clumsy. Usually his feet were steady, but he wasn’t entirely displeased with this turn of events. The back of his neck tingled. Color bloomed at the edge of his desaturated vision. Anticipation was the best part of thieving—whether he would get away or get caught. It sent his pulse racing.
The girl stopped, then turned in a confused circle. Hanging on the precipice of suspense sent a rush of blood through his limbs. He held his breath until he grew lightheaded.
At last, the servant girl shrugged and went back through the front courtyard. When she disappeared, the rope around Shao Qing’s waist slackened and he landed heavily on his feet. Above him, Zhi Lan blew on her hands, shaking out her wrists.
