The wind swept up their sleeves and snowflakes fell silently around them.
His embrace came suddenly, like a rain of flowers pouring down and drenching her completely.
She was a little dazed, sensing the stir of emotions within him – swirling, sinking, flowing as deep as still waters.
“What’s…wrong?”
Tilting her head back to look at him from his arms, she asked, “Did something upset you?”
“Don’t speak.” He closed his eyes. “Just let me hold you for a bit.”
Beneath the snow-laden trees, they stood quietly together. She relaxed her body, letting her hands drop to her sides and allowing him to hold her close. He nestled lightly into the crook of her shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek, carrying with it a heady fragrance like a splash of light wine.
For a long, long while, she leaned against him and listened to his breathing – crisp and cool like the snow on a winter’s day, pure and clean. In his embrace, she sensed his sadness – a sadness as immaculate as his, untouched by even a speck of dust, as if it had floated down from the very clouds.
“What’s making you sad?” she asked gently.
“It’s nothing.”
He bent to her ear and murmured, “You’re too wonderful.”
The corners of her lips curled up slightly. “So are you.”
Releasing her, he lowered his head as she reached up and stroked his hair, laughing softly. “Feeling better?”
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded. “Much better.”
He glanced down, his long bangs falling slightly forward over his eyes. She tilted her head, studying him curiously. “What on earth were you upset about? You look really down, like you didn’t get enough sleep.”
After a brief hesitation, she asked with concern, “Are you not feeling well physically?”
“I’m alright.” He shook his head, then explained, “I just get moody like this for no reason sometimes.”
“You’re so troublesome.” She made a face at him, then smiled. “But that’s okay. I’ve noticed that when you’re in a bad mood, you’re pretty easy to coax back into feeling better.”
Bowing his head, he laughed softly. Then he reached for her wrist again. “Let’s go. We need to get to the docks for business.”
The two swiftly gathered their things and left the city, heading for the docks.
In the crystalline winter dawn, sunshine filtered hazily onto the snowy ground, casting bright rays of light. Government ships were docked at a separate harbor, with soldiers patrolling in between them.
A small contingent of troops marched briskly past the wooden barricade in front of the dock, boots striking the thick planks in unison with a rapid patter, stirring up swirls of dust.
Suddenly, with a sharp “crack!”, a small pebble dropped to the ground, startling birds into flight.
“Who goes there?” barked the commanding soldier, leading his patrol unit to investigate.
As the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, two silent shadows beneath the dock slowly emerged.
Zhu Zi’an flicked the pebble in his palm, watching as the soldiers retreated. “Got them to leave quickly.”
“Too easy,” Jiang Kui frowned. “It’s as if they’re not worried about anyone coming to investigate at all.”
Effortlessly they climbed over the barricade and slipped aboard one of the cargo ships, using the larger vessels as cover.
The ship’s hold was filled with stacks of heavy sacks piled so high and close together there was barely any space to walk. Overhead, oil lamps cast overlapping pools of firelight onto the cargo below, throwing dark, layered shadows across the dim interior.
Zhu Zi’an crouched by a batch of goods, using his sword to lift the corner of a sack. A few tiny white grains spilled out.
He brushed a finger over them. “Salt.”
“This side’s salt too,” said Jiang Kui after tearing open another package. “Nothing special about any of it.”
They quickly checked several more areas within the hold – it was all typical goods transported by the government, like salt, sugar, silk fabrics and porcelain.
“No anomalies. Which is strange in itself,” Jiang Kui murmured. “The government’s methods haven’t turned anything up, and our private search hasn’t either… If someone really is abusing these transport ships to smuggle goods, they must be using extremely complicated tricks.”
Zhu Zi’an’s brow furrowed slightly. “No need to keep searching. We go directly to Huainan.”
He pondered, “The transport system works on relaying goods across different levels of state granaries. The ships unload cargo at each regional depot before moving on, then the next batch of ships continues the relay… With over a thousand ships involved in this route, tampering at any point along the line would indeed be hard to trace. If we keep investigating like this we’ll waste too much time.”
“You suspect the problematic goods will ultimately be delivered to Huainan?” asked Jiang Kui.
“It can only be Huainan,” he said softly. “Something there feels off.”
The two swiftly left the docks and returned to their own ship waiting at harbor.
After Zhu Zi’an gave some instructions to Old Jiang who was guarding the vessel, their fleet slowly sailed off, merging into the churning eastward flow of the Yellow River.
“We’re short on time, no more stops along the way. We’ll be staying on board,” Zhu Zian told Jiang Kui. “Let me show you your room?”
He brought her below deck and pushed open a wooden door. The room was small and plain, with just a wooden bed and a writing desk. A porcelain vase holding a freshly-cut sprig of winter plum blossoms stood on the desk, carrying with it the crisp, clear coldness of new fallen snow.
“My room is right across,” Zhu Zian pointed out the door facing theirs.
He paused, then added, “I don’t lock my door…if you need to find me, just come in without knocking, anytime.”
He turned and left for his own quarters, sitting down before a writing desk and gathering up a stack of documents along the wall which he brought over and placed by the corner. Then he took up a brush and lowered his head to start reviewing.
Jiang Kui took out a map of Huainan, leaning back against a cushioned pillow and uncapping a red ink brush. She began tracing lines over the map, studying it closely.
A peaceful silence filled the rooms but for the sound of waves lapping against the hull from outside the porthole window.
The passageway between their doors held a coal burner, flames occasionally crackling into brighter life with a loud pop, spraying sparks outward.
Zhu Zi’an raised his eyes, gazing over at the girl curled up in a fuzzy blanket across the way, head tilted as she wrote intently on the papers before her. Wisps of her long dark hair had come loose, spilling onto the ebony floor where the ends twirled softly, glowing reddish in the firelight.
His writing hand stilled for just a moment before she suddenly looked up, meeting his eyes.
Her brows and lashes curved into a bright smile, lips quirking teasingly. “Caught you spacing out over there.”
“Yes, you caught me spacing out,” he laughed.
“I’m a little dizzy,” she complained toward him. “All this rocking back and forth.”
Laying down his brush, he took a small medicinal jar and went over to sit by her side. “Let me apply some ointment.”
She closed her eyes and tipped up her face. He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head in amusement, then tore off a strip of white linen from his fingers. Dabbing some of the cooling slave onto his fingertips, he gently massaged her temples.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Nope.” Her tone almost sounded petulant. “Still dizzy. And stuffy. And hot.”
He suggested, “Want me to take you up on deck for some fresh air?”
“No thanks,” she shook her head. “Too cold.”
He sighed. “Well then, what should I do to help you feel better?”
In her dizzy state, her cheeks were flushed from the candle flames. She peered up at him – his features were sharp and clean in the dim light, with a quiet gentleness in his gaze that seemed to wash over her like water.
Something inside seemed to come loose, and she suddenly felt a swell of boldness. “Hold me,” she heard herself say.
The words were out before she could even think twice. It was a strange, somewhat inappropriate request without any proper justification.
“I – ” she bit her lip, hesitating.
Before she could take it back, he leaned down swiftly and gathered her in his arms with a low laugh. “I’ve heard that getting a hug can help when you’re seasick.”
“It does help a bit,” she mumbled.
His body carried a chilled scent that perfectly swept away the stuffy heat she’d felt. She nestled her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, falling asleep in his embrace.
Gazing down at the slumbering girl, he smiled faintly to himself before sighing again, so softly.
“Little Man of the River, my little Man of the River,” he murmured. “What am I to do with you?”
In the gently rocking cabin, he held her quietly. Candle flames washed over them with a molten brilliance, flickering gently in the overlapping light and shadow.
When Jiang Kui awoke, she opened her eyes to Zhu Zi’an looking down at her. His gaze was lowered, candlelight striking his high nose bridge and throwing a pale shadow just beneath.
For an instant she stared blankly, as if catching a glimpse of sorrow in his eyes.
It was gone in a flash.
She blinked slowly, and he was already smiling. “You slept a long time. It’s nearly lunch.”
Getting to his feet, he said, “I’ll go start on the cooking?”
“Do you really need to make it yourself?” she yawned, still ensconced comfortably in his arms. “Aren’t all the ‘merchants’ on this ship your own people that you brought in?”
“It’s for you that I’m cooking,” he held her by both shoulders, pushing her up into a seated position. “In case you don’t like what other people make.”
“I’m not that picky an eater,” she huffed.
The corners of his mouth curved up slightly. “Still, since I’m the one doing the cooking…”
“Well in that case, I want to watch,” she interjected, letting him pull her to her feet.
He brought her to the kitchen galley at the rear of the ship, lighting a fire beneath the stove and rolling up his sleeves to start sautéing ingredients. She busied herself helping, scurrying to and fro to pass him vegetables, spices, salts and sauces. Now and then she would sneakily test the temperature of items near the stove.
When her fingers brushed a hot ladle handle she would immediately yelp and hop about, crying “Ow, so hot, so hot!” He would just laugh softly and grab her by the wrist, holding her singed fingertips under cool running water in a large ceramic basin.
She raised her head once to find him gazing at her. In the wisps of smoke and fire, his features were gentle, lips quirked in an indulgent, affectionate smile that seemed meant only for her.
“You keep looking at me that way today,” she muttered, turning her face aside. “What’s up with you anyway?”
“Oh, nothing much,” he chuckled. “You’re just so cute when you hop around like that.”
She could feel her ears burning. “Oh, hush.”
The food was swiftly prepared and they ate lunch right there in the quiet kitchen. A porthole window had been left partially open, letting in chill river breezes that sent up curling plumes of white steam.
Zhu Zi’an held his chopsticks and continuously piled morsels from his own bowl into hers. Within moments her porcelain plate was heaped high with a small mountain of colorful ingredients, filled to the very brim.
“I’m going to burst,” she protested anxiously.
The corners of his mouth quirked up and he brought a tender piece of roasted fish to her lips. “Tastes good?”
The rich flavors burst over her tongue, carrying a trace of warm smokiness. The taste was perfectly balanced. She narrowed her eyes blissfully and mumbled through her full mouth, “Delicious.”
“I’ll keep cooking this for you to eat from now on,” he told her, eyes smiling.
She nodded in agreement. “That would be nice.”
After a brief pause she added solemnly, “Always.”
“If you’d like,” she entreated, as if asking for a promise.
His gaze shifted subtly before lowering. Faint amusement lingered still upon his lips as he replied gently, “I’ll do my best.”
A hushed silence fell between them for a spell.
Then he turned aside, gazing out the porthole window. “When we return to Chang’an,” he mused aloud, “spring will probably have arrived. The riverbanks are such a beautiful sight once everything turns green.”
“Then…” he thought for a moment. “I’ll go pick some early spring grass, catch a carp from the Wei River, and cook up lots of fish soup for you – how’s that sound?”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said softly.
After lunch they returned to their own rooms, resuming their individual tasks. As the afternoon passed into evening, Zhu Zi’an went to prepare dinner again which they then ate together.
On board the ship, time seemed to flow slowly, giving one the strange, unfounded impression that they had entered some form of still eternity.
Not long after night fell, Zhu Zi’an retired to his room for sleep while Jiang Kui stayed up looking over papers in her own, occasionally glancing across the passageway where he had left his door open.
She could make out his silhouette in profile. Beneath the muted starlight filtering down, he lay with eyes closed and breathing deep, seemingly sound asleep. Soft, blurred shadows and light played over his tranquil form.
At length, she rose silently, wearing a snowy silk robe with loose dark hair spilling down her back. Bare feet whispered across the wooden floorboards toward him.
She slipped under the blankets and put her arms around him, cradling him close as she treated his injuries. He was very quiet and still, barely even breathing as she held him like a compliant doll for her ministrations.
Finally, weariness overcame her. She released her grip and settled next to his sleeping form, gazing at his face.
The room’s lone oil lamp cast its golden flame diagonally across, shedding faint light on his brow and lashes.
She blinked slowly once.
In the flickering glow…the tips of his ears had turned faintly red.
…He was only pretending to be asleep.
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