Page 11

A distracted guard was a thief’s best friend. That was the first lesson Yao had taught him.

As the guards before Magistrate Li’s manor were chatting, Shao Qing counted enough footholds in the wall to get himself onto the roof. Just like Magistrate Bu’s manor, the west wall was covered in flourishing vines.

“I don’t know how to climb,” Zhi Lan whispered, a panicked note in her voice.

Shao Qing produced the coil of rope he had hidden around his middle. He had snagged an abandoned clothesline after purchasing the green robes, looping one end around his hips and wrapping the rest around his torso. He unfurled it now.

Zhi Lan stood very still as he slipped the other end around her waist and secured it with a sturdy knot.

“When I make it to the roof, climb up after me,” Shao Qing said.

“What part of I don’t know how to climb did you not understand?”

“Hold onto the rope and brace your feet against the wall.”

Shao Qing wedged his foot into a deep crack in the stone, tested the strength of the vines above him, and began his ascent. His senses sharpened as he went through the familiar exercise of finding a foothold and pulling himself up. He reached the top in a few minutes. Flattening himself against the roof of the west house, the boughs of a willow tree brushing his back, Shao Qing peered down at Zhi Lan, motioning for her to follow.

She looked as if she wanted to run, but after a moment, seemed to steel herself and grip the rope. Shao Qing watched her unsteady ascent for what felt like hours. Her hands finally appeared over the eaves. He pulled her up and Zhi Lan flopped gracelessly on her belly beside him, scraping the tile with her feet and panting like she was starved for air.

She was the worst thief he’d ever seen. Shao Qing wondered if they were going to make it out of this alive. Though he had to admit, the threat of possible death made this rather enticing.

Shao Qing turned and assessed the front courtyard. Servants ran to and fro, carrying buckets of steaming water to the main wing—most likely for a bath. Some were sweeping away the fallen willow leaves from the winding stone path in the garden. No one glanced up, too busy with their menial tasks. The masters of the house seemed to be within the rooms.

Shao Qing shifted onto his feet and walked silently along the ridge of the roof to the main house, keeping low. It was likely anything precious would be stored there. This was no planned heist—he could only act on his own instincts. Zhi Lan followed close behind, still sounding short of breath.

“Let’s go down,” Shao Qing said once they were on top of the main house.

“How?” Zhi Lan whispered.

Shao Qing glanced at yet another willow tree behind them. There was a convenient branch a foot away from the roof. It looked sturdy enough to bear their weight.

She paled. “There’s no way.”

“It’s the only way.”

There were fewer servants in the back courtyard. Shao Qing waited until they cleared before he straightened and stepped onto the tree. Zhi Lan buried her face into her hands and took a deep breath before following suit. She wobbled violently on the branch as she placed one foot in front of the other.

Shao Qing reached forward to steady her, but a loose piece of bark rolled beneath his feet.

In the next second, he was falling, the ground hurtling toward him and the wind rushing past his limbs.

All at once, the rope around his middle yanked taut, halting his fall with bruising force. The breath was squeezed from his lungs. Shao Qing managed to look up through the momentary pain.

Zhi Lan straddled the branch above him, clinging onto the rope that connected them so tightly her knuckles were white. He hung suspended from her hold alone. She was stronger than he’d suspected. Shao Qing motioned for her to lower him, but she shook her head vehemently.

He looked down.

A servant girl passed by with a bucket of water. Shao Qing dangled directly above her head.

He had been inordinately clumsy. Usually his feet were steady, but he wasn’t entirely displeased with this turn of events. The back of his neck tingled. Color bloomed at the edge of his desaturated vision. Anticipation was the best part of thieving—whether he would get away or get caught. It sent his pulse racing.

The girl stopped, then turned in a confused circle. Hanging on the precipice of suspense sent a rush of blood through his limbs. He held his breath until he grew lightheaded.

At last, the servant girl shrugged and went back through the front courtyard. When she disappeared, the rope around Shao Qing’s waist slackened and he landed heavily on his feet. Above him, Zhi Lan blew on her hands, shaking out her wrists.

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.

“Hm, who’s there?”

Zhi Lan grabbed a fistful of Shao Qing’s robe.

“Your bath is drawn, my lord,” a servant’s voice came from outside.

“Ah. I’ll be there in a minute.” Shuffling ensued from behind the screen.

Shao Qing held his breath. Zhi Lan was still clinging onto him like her life depended on it. He felt the press of her forehead against his neck.

A short chuckle came from Magistrate Li. “Ah. An excellent painting.”

Then, more shuffling and grunts.

It seemed an eternity before they heard the magistrate’s heavy footsteps.

“After you, my lord,” the servant said.

A soft whoosh of wind blew into the room, bringing in warm afternoon air and lifting Zhi Lan’s scent to Shao Qing. He turned his head ever so slightly, his nose brushing against her hair.

His heart beat faster.

The door shut and the footsteps faded, leaving the room in silence. Shao Qing touched Zhi Lan’s back, intending for the gesture as a sign to get up. But his hand lingered, splaying over the dip of her waist. He was suddenly aware of the slight curves pressed against his chest and the weight of her hips on top of his. He had never found such things pleasing, but this...

Zhi Lan lifted her head, her delicate brows furrowed in question.

She mouthed a series of silent words. Shao Qing wasn’t sure what she was saying—only that the pink of her lips was the most vibrant color he had seen in a while.

She suddenly smacked his chest. “ I asked is it clear? ” she hissed.

Shao Qing paused. Then nodded.

Zhi Lan removed herself from his person immediately, her cheeks flushed the same pink as her lips. He sat up as she slipped around the screen to where Magistrate Li had been a minute earlier. Shao Qing followed without thinking. All he knew was that he wasn’t quite done looking at her yet. He wondered what had gotten into him.

Zhi Lan unfurled the scroll which Magistrate Li had closed before leaving, her face flooding with relief. “It really is the one,” she said, clutching it to her chest and letting out a sigh. Her eyes seemed to shine when she regarded him. “Thank you.”

Shao Qing nodded. He wasn’t sure whether the sudden rush to his head was due to the theft, or...

His gaze strayed past Zhi Lan’s shoulder. A small scroll hung from the wall, the image catching his eye.

A painting of a dragon among clouds.

Shao Qing was walking forward before he knew it.

“What are you doing?” Zhi Lan hissed.

He unhooked the painting and studied it. The dragon had floating whiskers and sapphire claws, its mighty body twisting between wisps of mist. Nothing marked it as any different from the other dragon paintings he had come across.

But Shao Qing had never felt this way around any of them.

What if his sudden rush of emotions hadn’t been because of Zhi Lan? What if it had been his soul, calling to him? Perhaps it had known she would lead him to it, which explained why he’d been drawn to her.

A shiver ran down Shao Qing’s spine as Zhi Lan grabbed his forearm. “I hear footsteps,” she said in a panicked voice. “Let’s hide. Or better yet, let’s go.”

He rolled up the dragon painting and tucked it into the pouch at his waist.

At that moment, the door swung open and Magistrate Li stepped into the room. His gaze locked on Shao Qing with odd familiarity.

“Wen Jun?” the magistrate said in confusion. “How did you...?” Then his gaze fell on Zhi Lan, and the scroll clutched in her hand. His eyes widened when he looked back at Shao Qing, this time with alarm. “You’re thieves!”

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?