A sense of helplessness hovered over her as she finished the meal. She didn’t know Chang Fei Long’s moods yet and it was her duty as a servant to learn those things. He said so little, unlike her former master and mistress who’d had no issues about complaining long and loud.
When he swung himself onto his horse without a word, Yan Ling was certain he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. She started preparing her plea, but instead he extended his hand.
‘Come,’ he said, when she didn’t move. ‘You barely weigh a tan. The horse can carry us both.’
His broad fingers engulfed her slender ones. He tightened his hold to tug her upwards as she braced her foot over his in the stirrup. It was miserable beyond description. She felt like a rag doll, hefted onto the back of the saddle. They were higher off the ground than she had anticipated and she wobbled, clutching on to Fei Long’s robe. Fortunately he held on to her and finally got her settled in behind him.
She was pressed against him, closer than she’d ever been to any man. The expanse of his back and shoulders stretched out before her and her first thought was—how was she supposed to hold on? The warmth of him lingered even after he let go.
Yan Ling had never clung to a man like this, the intimacy all the worse for being forced. She’d never ridden a horse before either and was certain she’d fall and break a bone. The horse gave a snort and shifted forwards. In a panic, she grabbed on to Fei Long’s waist, hugging him too tightly. He tossed an irritated glance over his shoulder and she loosened her grip. She shifted on the saddle, trying to find her balance. Eventually she settled on holding on to his shoulders.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her with his back to her like that. ‘Yes, my lord.’
He urged the horse forwards with a slight movement of his heels. Yan Ling tried her best not to touch him too much as she swayed upon the saddle.
The sky was beginning to darken when they reached a walled city. The guards stepped aside to let them pass and Fei Long quickly located an inn along the main avenue. They left the horse to an attendant and headed to a brightly lit restaurant. The double doors were thrown open in welcome. Kitchen smells of garlic and cooking fat wafted out into the streets.
Yan Ling fell into step behind Fei Long as he entered the dining area. The day before, he’d entered their little teahouse with the same assured grace. The host spotted them across the crowded dining room, or rather he noticed Fei Long in his fine robe, and hurried over to greet a valued patron. They were directed to a table at the back and she stood awkwardly while Fei Long seated himself and spoke to the host.
She took to looking about the room. The place was twice the size of their teahouse and nearly every table was full. Her fingers ached just looking at the number of bowls and plates out on the tables. It would take hours to wash all the dishes in a place like this.
A young attendant came by carrying tea. Yan Ling shot forwards to intercept him and there was a brief struggle as she gripped the edges of the lacquered tray.
‘Hand it over,’ she scolded, managing to take possession of the tea without spilling a drop. The boy gave her a confused look before wandering off.
She placed the tray onto the table and arranged the porcelain cup neatly in front of Fei Long. At least this was something she knew how to do. The nobleman watched her with that penetrating gaze of his as she poured. When the cup was full, she set the pot down and stepped back with immense relief. This was harder than she’d ever imagined and they were only one day into the trip. What would be expected of her once they reached the great city of Changan?
‘Yan Ling.’ Her name sounded strange coming from his lips. So proper and enunciated. It was almost too elegant to be hers. He gestured to the chair opposite him. ‘Sit down.’
She complied, folding her hands in her lap nervously as she waited. Steam rose from the pot beside her. Fei Long reached for the handle and poured her a cup. She took it from his hands obligingly, but refrained from drinking since he hadn’t yet touched his tea.
He watched her with eyes that were dark and thoughtful. ‘You’re not my servant.’
Tm … I’m not?’
He shook his head, looking a bit uncomfortable with the situation himself. ‘You’re not required to attend to me. You are here to learn and I am here to teach you.’
She nodded fervently, though she still didn’t understand. This situation was growing even worse. The uncertainty of it left her bewildered and anxious. In the teahouse she knew exactly what was supposed to be done from the moment she woke up.
‘What am I to learn?’ she asked.
‘Manners. Etiquette. How to write, how to speak. Everything that would be expected of a heqin bride.’
Everything? ‘When was your sister supposed to leave for Khitan?’
‘In three months.’
Her stomach sickened. Lord Chang didn’t look happy either. Or maybe he always frowned like that. She’d seen that look more on his face than any other. He lifted his cup and she mirrored his movement. The tea was a bit hot so she blew over it gently.
‘You shouldn’t do that.’
She flinched at the reprimand. Hot liquid splashed over her fingers.
‘Wait for the tea to cool and sip slowly.’ He demonstrated while she stared at him incredulously. She did the same, not daring to do much more than touch her lips to the rim.
‘And when you took the cup from me, you did it with one hand.’
Had she?
‘Two hands,’ he went on. ‘With a slight bow of your head as you accept the cup.’
Heaven and earth, she didn’t even know how to drink tea properly! She, who had grown up in a teahouse. But she’d never had the opportunity to accept a cup of tea from anyone. She poured her own tea and drank it in the kitchen with the rest of the servants.
‘Two hands. Slight bow,’ she recited under her breath.
The next minutes were excruciating. They sat and sipped tea as if it was a sacred ritual, and apparently it was. Fei Long told her about entire classical texts written about tea. She glanced at him over the rim of her cup while she drank. With every moment, she waited for the next arrow to fly: sit straight, head up. No, head too high.
‘Are you a general in the imperial army?’ she blurted out.
‘No. Why?’
He did carry a sword and seemed to like giving commands. ‘I was just wondering,’ she said, glowering.
‘I serve as a squad captain in the north-western garrison,’ he answered stiffly. ‘But I had to leave to attend to my father’s affairs.’
She nodded. Her neck was tired from nodding. ‘That’s a very powerful position, then?’
He stared at her. She realised she was staring back and lowered her gaze.
‘No,’ he replied after a pause, regarding her intently, as if she’d said something highly improper, and took a methodical sip of tea. ‘It is a very worthy post.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She squirmed beneath his scrutiny. ‘I’m certain it must be.’
She didn’t know a thing about military rankings or the exalted history of tea. Every day would have to be like this if she was going to learn what she needed to know.
Yan Ling was exhausted by the time the food came, but she was grateful to have something besides the nobleman’s discerning stare to occupy herself. Her mouth watered at the dishes placed before her. The journey had worked up her appetite and she piled slices of pork along with sautéed bamboo shoots and greens onto her rice. The flavours were rich with