Page 95 of The Cinders
He saw now that he was nothing like the surrounding animals.They were preserved and visible.In time, if he remained here, Xian was sure he would vanish altogether.Only then would Noble Consort Jing be satisfied.
A hum started beneath his skin; the drag of a saw’s teeth through wood.A sense of wishing to crawl out of his own skin and leave it behind.
But he had to be patient.Even though his head drummed with one mantra —run, run, run —it was not yet time.He was too closely watched.Sobriety made men like Feng extra dangerous.Midnight was useful, even if Sir William lied.The late hour and the celebrations would soak the senses in wine and dull regard.
‘Now that is done with, it is time to present your gown.’
Feng bit his pipe between his teeth and clapped his hands.
The response was immediate.An attendant, a woman of senior age and with an even sourer expression than Xian’s earlier guide, hurried into the room.She held in her outstretched arms a stunning gown of white with gold overlay.Elaborate structuring made the shoulders rigid, and the bodice held a stiffness uncommon to ruqun designs.A thick sash at the waist hung with slender chains of gold.
‘My Lord, this is too much.’The beauty was astonishing, almost enough to shift his mind from all that had been said and learned.‘Truly, I cannot accept such a gift.’
‘You can, and you will.’Feng stepped off the kang, planting his feet on the lion’s coat, his queue draped over his shoulder; the hair woven through with hints of gemstones.‘The gold fabric was brought to me from Persia, by a dashi who wished to negotiate a trade.He said it is called Termeh, made of cashmere and silk, and favoured by the royal houses there.I’ve had my best seamstresses at work on it, but was concerned it would not be ready.’He gestured to where a divider, painted with a magnificent spring mountain scene and set within a frame of red sandalwood, stood to one side of the room.Beside it was a hanger rack, one that stood nearly as high as the divider itself.Its uppermost hanger carved with dragon heads in its extremes; long lashing tongues protruding from mouths filled with white fangs.‘Hang the dress for his highness, and assist him in undressing.’
Xian nearly choked in horror.‘I am to try it on, now?’
‘I wish to ensure it fits correctly.’Feng nodded, his odour unpleasant with its mix of tobacco and sweat and a sickly sweetness beneath.‘Hurry now, I haven’t much time.They took too long in finding you.’
‘Your lordship, I see no need to—’
‘Prince Xian, you will do as I ask.Put the gown on, now.’Feng abandoned any pretence of politeness, his eyes hard.‘You can use your belligerence upon others, if it pleases them, but not on me.’
In the past, Xian would have dissolved into obedience.But he’d changed more in the space of a few days than he had in his lifetime.
‘I do not wish to wear your gown, Mandarin Feng.’His pulses were erratic butterflies, his temples thumping.His body hummed still; like the single note of a daoshi’s incantation held long beneath his skin.‘My gown is exactly what I require in order to move easily.I neither want, nor need, your dress.’
Mandarin Feng’s awful smirk returned, and Xian was oddly disappointed he’d not angered the man.When Feng stepped forward, Xian drew in his belly, his feet tingling with the urge to flee.
‘My dear boy.’Feng leaned in close, his breath coarse with tobacco, and his last meal.‘You’ll undress now, and put that gown on.Or I’ll send word to Captain Duan that he can remove your shoemaker from Master Chen’s workshop, and do with him what he will.’
Lightheaded, Xian glared hard at the older man.‘Master Lim has no part in this.’
‘And yet you made your way to him, and, I have learned, saw fit to put the fear of the gods into Master Chen so he’d run about making your shoemaker more comfortable.Such unseemly affection, for a mere craftsman, Prince Xian.One that bothers me greatly, for I was assured you were a chaste and untouched man.’
Xian stepped back, reviled.‘What I am is of no matter to you.’
Feng said nothing, merely stared, his expression wooden and his dull brown eyes devoid of emotion.
Unable to bear looking on him, Xian turned away, nodding at the attendant.‘Let us be done with this, so Mandarin Feng might attend to far more important matters.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
IN FENG’Scovetous room, music played.No tune that Xian had ever danced to, but to which he was familiar, thanks to Lady Tian’s love of all things found in other lands.Here were trumpets and the high whine of the violin; classical music created by grand assemblies of musicians with their foreign instruments.
He stood behind the divider, nerves jangling with unhappy anticipation.The attendant stepped around to join him; the gown held before her.‘Your highness,’ she whispered beneath the music.‘I will turn my back and give as good instruction as I can without disrupting your privacy.But there is a boning at the bodice you might not be accustomed to, and I’ll need to do the laces at the back, but I shall keep my eyes closed, I promise you.’
‘Are you yet done?’The mandarin called.He’d barely given them a moment.
‘Almost, your lordship.The gown is complicated, and I don’t wish to hurry and risk a tear,’ she called.
Her stern face morphed with the tilt of a gentle smile.She nodded at Xian and turned her back.Not because she feared a ridiculous curse, but because she wished to offer him privacy.
The unexpected kindness buoyed him.Xian lifted his changsan robe over his head, practised in not losing his veil, and stood clad only in his drawers; loose, thin cotton pants that stopped above his knees for ease of movement.Though he was not naked, he was horribly laid bare; the mass of scars on his body uncovered.
He wrapped his arms around his waist.‘I’m ready.
The woman was true to her word, her eyes closed as she turned and crouched to settle the gown on the floor where he could step into it.She did so deftly, obviously no stranger to handling such volume.