Shao Qing brushed himself off and straightened. He motioned for Zhi Lan to come down.
“How?” she mouthed.
He held out his arms.
After a hesitant glance, Zhi Lan lowered herself so she was dangling from the branch by her hands, then plummeted unceremoniously into him. He managed to catch her shoulders and one of her legs. She resembled an ungraceful heap of wrinkled fabric, leaves, and rope.
Shao Qing set her down.
“Don’t make me do that again,” she wheezed.
He unknotted the rope from his waist. After Zhi Lan did the same, he shoved the coil underneath a stone statue of a miniature pavilion.
They had landed before the main house, a precarious position. A long veranda stretched down like a hallway, doors on the left and the open courtyard on the right. He recalled Yao’s map. The magistrate’s study should be in the center of the building.
“Follow my lead,” he said to Zhi Lan. “Quietly.”
Down the veranda they went, ducking beneath open windows and slipping past ajar doors.
Shao Qing counted the numerous rooms, walking toward the one close to the center. He pressed his ear against the screen door. Silence. A film of dust coated the threshold, unlike the clean polished wood of the others. There was a lock on the door, but not the window. He pushed it open and quickly climbed inside, holding the frame open for Zhi Lan to scramble in.
The room was dim, the air stale and stagnant. Unoccupied, as he suspected. The walls were bare and the porcelain vases empty. White sheets covered the tables and chairs. There was an old baby crib pushed to the corner where a bed should’ve been.
Not a place for art, then.
“I don’t like this.” Zhi Lan’s eyes darted around the white walls and sheets. “It looks like a room for the deceased.”
Shao Qing touched her elbow to steer her away from the screen window. She let out a startled squeak.
“It’s just an extra room,” Shao Qing said. “The rich have too many to put all of them to use.” He meant to be reassuring, but he couldn’t help feeling a hint of amusement at her reaction.
Zhi Lan swallowed, her gaze straying to the crib. “Do you think...this room is for the missing child? What if its spirit is watching us?”
So she was worried about the silly story An Qin had told.
“Focus,” Shao Qing said. “We’re here for your painting.”
Zhi Lan nodded, but there was a crease between her brows that he had a sudden urge to smooth away. This, he ignored.
“The magistrate’s study should be the room behind this wall,” he said in a low voice, walking to the far end of the room. He pressed his ear against the wall, straining to hear any movement. Nothing.
Shao Qing waited for another minute before deeming it safe. He and Zhi Lan managed to slip out of the window again and head a few steps down the veranda.
The door to the magistrate’s study was wide open. And luckily, empty.
Or so Shao Qing thought. They made it five steps in when he realized there was someone behind the grand desk to the right of the entrance.
A distinguished-looking gentleman was reclined in a chair, his head tipped back, his broad chin covered with a gray goatee. His lined faced looked just past middle-aged. A loud snore emitted from him. Judging from his age and fine dress, Shao Qing guessed that this was Magistrate Li himself. On his desk was an open scroll—a painting of a waterfall.
Shao Qing padded silently behind a silk screen on the other side of the room, pulling Zhi Lan with him. The top two thirds was silk stretched across a wooden frame painted with cherry blossoms, the lower third was intricately carved wood, stained a deep brown.
Zhi Lan turned around, looking at him with wide eyes. “That’s the painting. Do we just grab it?” she whispered.
He shook his head and pressed a finger over his lips. Caution and patience were required now. Untried thieves always got sloppy with their target in sight. It would be ridiculously easy to grab the painting from underneath the magistrate’s nose—and very risky. Normally he would be tempted to try something reckless, but with Zhi Lan here, he figured he should err on the side of caution. He assessed their position. There was a large, bright window behind them. If the magistrate were to wake, he would easily see their forms silhouetted behind the screen.
“Get down,” Shao Qing said, his voice barely a whisper. He crouched to the floor and laid himself down so he was concealed by the lower third of the screen. Zhi Lan squatted awkwardly beside him.
Someone knocked loudly on the doorframe. Shao Qing grabbed Zhi Lan’s arm and pulled her toward him. She landed with a soft “oof” against his chest, her uneven breath tickling his chin. The two froze when Magistrate Li grunted, startling awake.
