Page 98 of The Cinders
‘And to you, Prince Xian.May fortune shine on you.’
Xian followed the waiting escort.The attendant scuttled along, his pace brisk, the stiffness of his changsan robe reminding Xian of a ship’s sail tight with wind.His queue swung like a pendulum at his back in a sharp, exacting tempo as he guided Xian to a set of concealed stairs at the far end of the hallway; wooden steps that wobbled with the touch of their feet.He was taken down several passageways, each with the same feel of being secondary thoroughfares, the sub-par walkways considered suitable only for servants.
The same sort he’d spent years using in Kunming.
Xian struggled to take a full breath; the corseted structure of his gown was uncomfortably tight, and his fear of exposing himself constricting.
The uncommunicative man headed into a passageway that was protected by raised walls and covered by wisteria overhead; its lilac and honey scent at least more pleasant than many others that assailed him.
Xian held the copious folds lifted, hopeful he’d make it without staining or tearing the fabric.
Finally, the man stopped at a doorway framed by two large lanterns.The heavy wooden door took the attendant some effort to shift open.
He turned, gave Xian a perfunctory bow, and gestured for him to enter.
Xian stepped into a dark space, blinking against the sudden shift from the brightness of the lanterns.His vision blurred, and Xian shook his head, closing his eyes.When he opened them again, every detail of the room was apparent; though coloured dully, and with no source of light evident.
He stood at the back of a modest stage, a long drape of red curtains before him, behind which the loudness of voices suggested an audience already in attendance.Xian touched his fingers to his nose, wrinkling it against the waft of hill censers filled with tan xiang; but even those incense burners failed to cover the pungency of the crowd.
He edged a curtain aside, breathing in the scent of hemp from the ropes that lifted them high towards the ceiling.The fabric was thick and blocked most of the light that came from a ring of lanterns set upon the front of the stage — a raised platform which would be his dance floor.
The modestly sized room was only marginally bigger than Mandarin Feng’s overcrowded chamber and was already filling; people settling upon the lush silk cushions and thickly woven rugs beneath two ostentatious candelabra with porcelain parrots at their centres, three golden arms each, and held thick red candles.Guests entered through a doorway framed by chunlian; the auspicious calligraphy wishing all a prosperous new year.
Xian would be satisfied with happiness.
He clung to the curtain, one eye upon his audience.Men and women from near and far.Some he recognised; others were strangers.All were dressed in their finest robes and gowns for the New Year Celebrations, with kohl-rimmed eyes and reddened lips, oil-slicked queues and bejewelled hair and fingers.Some, those from afar, wore crowns adorned in sparkling gems, and multiple strings of pearls graced their necks and wrists, though some of the Western women had chosen búyào to wear — jade hairpieces dangling with coral and opals and gold links.The room bulged at the seams with wealth, and Xian’s sensitive ears stung with their conversations.
He shrank back, letting the curtain fall back into place.But it did not shield him.
‘Feng claims the prince untouched.’
A hum of wanton interest followed.‘Indeed, and so badly marked he would stiffen even likes of you, my friend, with your appetite for the grotesque.’
Coarse laughter came, with the clinking of cups.‘I’m willing to pay the fee to see if it is true, but Feng taunts me.Claiming he is not yet for sale.’
‘He does not know how deep your pockets go for your pleasures then.’
Xian covered his ears against the harsh, resounding laughter, and edged into the shadows.
He smelled Sir William before he saw the man; a distinct tang, honey and bitter almonds combined.But overlaying that, the waft of Moutai, the strongest of the baijiu spirits, and tobacco laced with something unpleasant.
‘Whatever are you doing hiding in the shadows, little fox prince?’
In truth, it was the Englishman who must have been hiding, his appearance sudden and strange.Xian heard nothing of his approach.He was justthere.
‘Sir William.’
‘My word, don’t you look just good enough to devour?’His aura had dimmed since the banquet, and the glazed look in his verdant eyes had Xian edging back.
‘You’ve had much to drink.’
‘Much?’He sniffed, pulling a face of feigned indignation.‘I’ve barely begun.A fine time for daemonic blood, this is.One can consume so very much.I say, would you mind if I kissed you again?’
‘I’d mind very much.And you know it.’
William swept off his protest with a lazy wave.‘Don’t be so prudish.This time shall be for enjoyment only, and you’ll soon abandon your preference for your own company, I assure you.’He stepped forward, almost falling into Xian’s arms; a thin dusting of white was evident around the Englishman’s nostrils.
Whatever else he might be, Sir William Black was extremely intoxicated.