A Humble Token

"There's no need for you to feel obliged. You can go on your way, Miss Yao; good day."

She folded her arms. "I must admit that I am not used to being dismissed so bluntly! This is a new experience for me." Yao Manting said lightly, eyeing him with some interest. She was too good-natured to be offended, but she was forced to admit she had unconsciously expected the plain woodcutter to be more in awe of her. It was rather a blow to find out that he had no idea who she was, and wasn't interested in finding out either.

The fact that he wasn't interested in her money made her more determined to repay the favour somehow. She had a keen sense of what was due, and it was a point of pride with her that she owed no one anything.

"I'm in a hurry," Yuanzheng replied stiffly. "Maybe another day, then, Miss Yao."

"Fine, that suits me as well--I'm also in a hurry today! Then--" she looked inquiringly at him. "You haven't told me your name?"

"Yuanzheng." he said reluctantly, compelled by her expectant gaze.

"Then, Master Yuan, you won't disappoint me, but will meet me at the House of Falling Petals two days from now. I'll treat you to a meal there, they're well-known for their wine."

"The House of Falling Petals?" stammered Yuanzheng. A sudden memory of Qingqing dressing him in those borrowed fine clothes, dragging him in and hissing instructions, watching her slyly steal food and drinks from the crowd, and laughing as they ate abalone slices, hit him. Her rapturous face as she waxed poetic on their roast duck, and the way the chopsticks she had pinched stuck out of her hair like a fan. The memory brought a pang of wistfulness that made him catch his breath sharply, and he said nothing for a while, lost in the past.

Yao Manting clapped her hands, mistaking his lost expression for delight. "I see you've heard of it. That's excellent!"

She added, darting him a quick glance from under her lashes, "You need not feel embarrassed. Just a humble token of my gratitude. Please accept it if you do not look down on me."

There was a short silence as she waited for his reply, and Yuanzheng finally said reluctantly, "I wouldn't dare to."

A sudden smile broke across her face like a ray of sunshine and Yao Manting bowed gracefully to him. With a flick of her wrist, she shook the scarf out and wound it around her face once more.

"Then, I'll see you there, Master Yuan. Don't let me down."

And with a wave of her hand she swooped off.

As she hurried along, she could not resist looking back and saw Yuanzheng standing there, slightly lost, still holding the haw stick in his hand.

Yao Manting laughed to herself. "He's funny. But I owe him for what happened today. If not for him, that Baoye would have caught me. I had barely stepped into the street when he just happened to walk by and recognize me--what bad luck!"

She sighed, and quickened her pace. It was not often that she was able to sneak out of the House of Falling Petals. As its star dancer and courtesan, Manting was Madame Min's darling. But this meant that she was watched even more closely than the others.

"I've got to hurry before I'm missed," she muttered to herself. Manting did not trust the servants to deliver her letters. She knew that Madame Min very probably paid them to let her read them first before they delivered them. And though Manting was on good terms with Madame Min, she was not naive; she knew that foremost in Madame Min's eyes, she was still a piece of property, an investment which Madame Min would not easily yield to someone else...

Her eyes softened involuntarily as she thought of him. Ru Wenyi, so tall and handsome, with his fine feather-like dark brows. His warm gaze and ringing laugh, and the way he rode so gracefully, hair tossed in the wind, balancing gracefully on his horse...

They had met when she was just a girl. Her father was a farrier, and Young Master Ru would often bring his favourite horses to be shoed. Manting would watch him come galloping up, windblown and flushed, and then continue to watch him stealthily from the corner of her eye as she helped her father. He was the first one who told her she was good at dancing. When her father got sick and she resolved to come to the city to find work, Wenyi was the one who lent her the money she needed. No; he had given her more than that; he had given her the confidence she needed to fight her way to where she was now. Even after she had become House of Falling Petals' best performer, sought after by all its customers, and Madame Min's pride, the greatest applause she had gotten had never been as sweet as the one he had given her, eyes bright and full of frank delight. His boyish voice. "Xiaoman, that was amazing. You're as good as any professional dancer! The best I've ever seen!"

Years later, when her memory of him was starting to fade in the face of so many new experiences and faces, she had suddenly come across him, when she least expected it. When she looked out towards the crowd during one of her performances she had seen him, sitting among the audience, and her heart had leaped violently. It had been a shock of joy so sudden and so poignant that it felt like the stab of a knife. He was still the same, even with a beard; still with that ingenuous, boyish smile, the same easy gait and lithe movements. She had known so many men during these few years, and yet none of them had made her heart lurch like he did.

Somehow, she had managed to catch him alone. He had not recognized her until she unveiled herself and said urgently, "Wenyi! It's me--Xiaoman!"

Yao Manting's heart warmed as she remembered how his face had lit up.

"Xiaoman? Can it really be you?"

Their love, which had begun so tenderly and innocently years ago as they tended horses together, had blossomed rapidly, with a strength and sureness that was all the greater for their years apart. It was as if they had parted ways, only to find each other more eagerly.

Now that he had had to leave the city and return home, the only comfort she had was their letters--love letters where Wenyi promised her he would ask his parents' permission, buy her freedom from Madame Min, and marry her...

All of which Madame Min, no matter how kind and pleasant she was, could not possibly know, or she would certainly find some way to keep her prized bird inside its fancy cage.