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СКАЧАТЬ considered having a drink. A strong one. But his three coins weren’t enough to buy a flask of wine or the courtesan to pour it for him in this part of the city. Cheng pressed a hand to his eye. The area around it throbbed dully as he trudged back to his apartment.

      It was five days until the imperial exams. That commentary had taken him over a week to compose the first time. He had better start writing.

      Jia checked the desk, the cabinet, the little tight corners behind the bed. She’d been crawling around on her hands and knees, searching for clever hiding spots, too nervous to light even a tiny oil lamp.

      The room was square and tidy, with a scant few personal belongings packed away in the wooden trunk. She flipped through a book she found at the bottom, squinting to stare at the characters. It wasn’t what she was looking for. The scholar must have kept the journal with him after snatching it. She set the lid back down and turned to slip out, when the door rattled.

      Death and destruction, he wasn’t supposed to return yet!

      Her gaze darted left and right, frantically searching for a place to hide. She’d run her hands over the entire apartment. It was as sparse as a monk’s cell.

      She could run. Just bolt right by him once the door opened and hope she startled him enough that he wouldn’t call for the city guards.

      That plan stalled the moment the door swung wide. The hapless scholar stood there, blocking the entrance with the shoulder span of an ox. Jia went very still beside the bed as he kicked the door shut. The frame rattled with the force of it.

      Maybe he was drunk and she could still run.

      “What—who’s there?” he demanded. His massive shape tensed in the darkness.

      Her throat seized. He was bigger than the gossip had indicated and he was angry.

      “Honourable sir,” she began, affecting the courtesan’s lilt she’d heard so many times. It was meant to soothe tempers and stroke egos. She was no good at it. “Your good friend thought you needed some companionship.”

      “Friend?”

      He sounded clear-headed enough to not be drunk, which was unfortunate for her. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this.

      “What friend?”

      “Li,” she blurted out.

      He moved closer and seemed to be busying himself with something at the desk beside the far wall. She’d have to dart past him to reach the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the bed only to find him in front of her, now with a lamp flickering in his grasp. A pale, yellow glow filled the chamber, encircling both of them.

      His features were broad and square, not like the pale-faced scholars she was accustomed to. His cheek appeared swollen below his left eye. He was too big, the room was too small, and, on her grave, now he had seen her.

      “Li?” he scoffed. “Li hates me.”

      She spoke quickly. “Then I must be mistaken. This must be a joke. Farewell.”

      Her attempt to slip by was again thwarted when he leaned in close to look at her. There was nothing menacing about his manner, other than he was too close for her to breathe easy.

      “What is your name?” he asked.

      Name. She needed a name. Some fancy courtesan name. Flowers were always popular.

      “Rose. Precious Rose.” She winced. That was awful.

      “Rose.”

      His gaze traced over her, and a spark of unmistakable interest lit in his eyes, but it was immediately banished with a frown. “Yes, a joke. They are all so very clever.”

      His tone indicated this wasn’t the first of such pranks.

      “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I can’t…I can’t pay you.”

      Heat shot up her neck, rising to her cheeks before she could stammer out a reply. “Oh no, you don’t have to pay.” She realized how her meaning could be mistaken and blushed even more furiously. “No! I mean—”

      He looked away, but not before his gaze flitted briefly over her. He raised a hand to scratch the side of his neck nervously. It was too late. She’d already seen his pupils darken with a flash of interest.

      Insufferable bastard.

      She was furious, embarrassed, then furious again, ignoring the fact that it was her ruse that had started it. He should have at least questioned her story. She wasn’t dressed in the finest silk robes of the elite courtesans, but she hardly resembled one of the lowly tea house prostitutes. And certainly not one foolish enough to sneak into a man’s private chamber uninvited. These scholars and their arrogance.

      “You should go.” He appeared more weary than arrogant as he stepped aside.

      “I should go,” she echoed, not quite understanding why she hadn’t gone already. She started for the door, but then turned. “I’ve given you my name.” Well, not quite. “What’s yours?”

      “Luo Cheng.”

      She watched as he turned his back to her to set the oil lamp onto the desk. This one certainly wasn’t built like the pampered scholars that came and went year after year through the academic halls of the capital. Curiosity took hold of her.

      “Like the famous general,” she ventured.

      He regarded her with an odd look over his shoulder. “Yes, like the general,” he sighed.

      Indeed Cheng looked more suited to the imperial army than the civil exams. A quick scan confirmed that he’d returned empty-handed. Her cronies must have succeeded in stealing the book. She would return to her quarters, pay her troupe members, and receive the spoils.

      Cheng had seated himself at the desk. He pulled out half an ink stick, then paused with the black stub in his hands.

      “Miss…er…Rose?”

      “Yes?” She was staring.

      He wasn’t so frightening in the light. In fact, he seemed somewhat earnest and vulnerable. From what little she’d heard of him, she’d expected a wastrel. The North Hamlet pavilions were filled with eager students and enough wine to fill the Great River that cut through the centre of the city. They would stay until their pockets were empty of cash, not even knowing if it was night or day outside the curtains of the drinking houses. Yet Cheng had come back to his chamber early and she didn’t smell any liquor or perfume on him. He seemed ready to work, except for her intrusion.

      “Do you need me to escort you home?” he asked uncertainly.

      The model of politeness and chivalry too. She suddenly felt guilty she’d had him robbed, but for all his manners, he was more a thief than she was. The book hadn’t belonged to him. He’d taken it from the Lotus Pavilion.

      Of course, it didn’t belong to her either—but it did now! She’d paid for it, or at least she’d paid to get it. Paid dearly from her meager earnings in hopes that СКАЧАТЬ