Just as Magistrate Li hollered for guards, Shao Qing grabbed Zhi Lan’s wrist. They barreled past the magistrate, following the garden path studded with shrubs and rock sculptures that led to a pavilion suspended over a picturesque pond of floating lily pads. They made it underneath the shaded structure, panting.
From this vantage point, Shao Qing noticed that the pond led out to a patch of wilderness overgrown with trees and bamboo. There was no back wall in sight. He didn’t know how far the magistrate’s security extended, but it was their only way out.
The shouts of guards followed. A handful of them charged toward the pavilion, their heavy armor clinking. Shao Qing halted at the railing, peering down at the murky pond below them. He couldn’t tell how deep it went. There was no time to find out.
“Can you swim?” Shao Qing asked Zhi Lan.
“Yes but—”
He grabbed her around the waist and swung her over the railing. She shrieked. A loud splash followed. Shao Qing barreled into the water after her. His feet hit the bottom of the pond. Zhi Lan was a few paces ahead, paddling toward the bamboo wilderness with impressive speed, the scroll shoved down the back of her collar. The further they swam, the deeper the water got.
Spears splashed on either side of Shao Qing as the guards attempted to attack from afar. They were encumbered by their armor and could not jump into the water after them.
“Wait, wait! Don’t hurt them!” Magistrate Li shouted. “Bring the boy back alive!”
Shao Qing took the opportunity to submerge fully, kicking his feet as he propelled himself through the murky water. His lungs and muscles burned. It seemed an eternity before he broke the surface. By then, the magistrate’s pavilion had grown smaller. The guards gathered at the railing, seeming to have chosen not to pursue them.
A strange choice, but Shao Qing didn’t linger on it.
The rocky shore came into view. Zhi Lan pulled herself from the water, pond weeds clinging to her drenched hair. Her skirt hung heavy and wet, leaving a trail of puddles as she hurried to take cover in the shrubbery. Shao Qing clambered after her, shivering and lightheaded, less from the cold and more from the scroll at his waist.
He pressed a hand to it, feeling the solid wooden rods and the thickness of the silk brocade. Could it be what he thought it was?
11 – Zhi Lan
Zhi Lan was drenchedin pond muck. Her clothes were heavy and stuck unpleasantly to her skin. There was something slippery in her shoes. She was out of breath and shivering.
And skies, she was probably a wanted criminal now.
Zhi Lan stumbled to a halt when she made it to a small clearing. They were in a patch of wilderness, though she could tell it didn’t extend very far by the sight of buildings speckling the distance through the trees. She fumbled for Master Dan’s painting, which she had shoved into the back of her collar right before Shao Qing had flung her into the water.
Her hands trembled, dread roiling in her gut when she found the silk brocade wet to the touch. When she unrolled it, her stomach dropped.
Every meticulous detail Master Dan had layered on was gone, dissolved into dark, blue green splotches. The red signature stamp, too, was illegible. All that was left was a hazy landscape of bleeding pigments.
Zhi Lan’s breath hitched. “It’s ruined!”
