Wen Jun stood and left before his son could begin to ask, disappearing into the main wing.
Shao Qing stood and paced the pavilion. He considered changing his robe. It was a dove gray, drab compared to some of the other things in his wardrobe. His sleeves were marked with a few ink stains.
He sat again, feeling foolish. Zhi Lan had seen him unwashed in black rags. This hardly signified.
But he knew better now. And he realized he wanted to look his best for her.
Shao Qing made it to the edge of the pavilion before he stopped. His breath caught. Across the courtyard was a girl in white.
She was being led to the pavilion by a servant. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, and she was throwing glances at the wall the two of them had climbed over all those months ago. Shao Qing felt a grin split his face.
Zhi Lan reached the end of the garden path that led into the pavilion. The servant bowed and left her. Her gaze fell uncertainly on him, and she bowed formally.
“Excuse me, young master, have you seen...?” Her inquiry trailed off when she straightened. Her lovely eyes widened. “Shao Qing?”
He tucked his hands beneath his sleeves, not quite sure what to do with them. She looked radiant, her cheeks and lips flushed pink. Her hair was done up in silver pins instead of wood, and she wore a chiffon outer robe, which fluttered in the breeze like transparent wisps of mist.
“Zhi Lan. It’s good to see you.”
He took an involuntary step toward her, as if his impetuous soul had jumped out before him and was tugging his body along.
Zhi Lan took a step back. “Funny being back here,” she said with a nervous laugh.
Shao Qing wondered if he had frightened her in his eagerness. She was a sight for sore eyes. He couldn’t believe it had been over two months since he had seen her last, kneeling on the cold floor of Magistrate Bu’syamen.
Belatedly, he realized he was being rude. “Where is your master?” he asked. “I was told he was invited as well.”
“Master Dan? He didn’t come. He’s in the middle of a painting and didn’t want to be disturbed.”
Shao Qing secretly celebrated this. “Do you want a tour?” he said eagerly. He suddenly wanted to show her everything, from the orange koi fish in the pond to the sturdy bristles of his new toothbrush.
Zhi Lan gave him a hesitant smile. “I’d like that.”
He led her on a leisurely walk across the courtyard gardens, through the kitchen, along the east wing’s veranda, and finally toward the main house where his own rooms lay.
When they had passed through on their heist, Shao Qing’s suite resembled little more than a haunted storage closet. Now, the old crib was gone and hangings decorated the white walls. Magistrate Li thought Shao Qing had a taste for dragon paintings, so he frequently gifted him scrolls depicting the creatures. The shelves were now full of books. Wen Jun had lent Shao Qing a few volumes from his collection. And along the latticed walls, the windows were propped open, letting in fresh air and sunlight.
“It’s like a completely different place!” Zhi Lan turned in a slow circle, her gaze marveling.
She wandered to his alcove bed and ran her fingertips over the soft bedspread. The absentminded gesture made Shao Qing grow warm.
“Do you sleep well?” she asked.
There was a concerned undertone to her words, and he knew she wasn’t only speaking about the comfort of the mattress.
“I do,” he said quietly. “I think...I am as well as I can be.”
Zhi Lan smiled. “I’m glad.”
