Brushstrokes on a Fan

She swallowed, and hemmed indecisively. "Well. It was indeed, unfortunate." Her voice unconsciously modulated. "I almost got scalded by the tea, you know. If I had taken one step further it would have splashed right onto me."

"But thankfully, it did not," smiled Suzhen. "What a pity it would have been to stain that pretty gown." She gestured at the pale blue gown.

Mao Xiang was pleased but she refused to show it. "Well," she continued stubbornly. "It did spoil my fan, you know. Just look at it, positively ruined. It can't possibly be used anymore." Her voice started to rise again as she slipped back into her petulant mood. She cast a glance at Suzhen challengingly. "Did you know it was painted by a master?"

Suzhen stooped and picked up the fan from the floor, shaking the tea off it delicately. She opened it and studied the stained paper. There was a landscape on it, depicting a pond with a bridge and a cluster of willows. There were two lovebirds in the sky, and a carp in the pond. The brush strokes were sharp and vigorous, clumsy at times. The trees and water were not very impressive, but the animals fared better; the energetic strokes suited them.

"There seems to be paintings on it," she agreed, turning it under the light, "but somehow I feel they were made by your hand, Miss Mao. Am I right?"

Mao Xiang hesitated. Suzhen closed the fan and handed it to her. "Miss Mao must be proud of her painting skills, since she is testing me to see if I can appreciate her work. They lack the sureness of a master's hand, but they make up for it with freshness and vitality. There is promise here. You should hone your skill by painting a few more, Miss Mao. I would be honoured to view your work when finished."

Taking the fan slowly, Mao Xiang unfurled it and shook it to and fro undecidedly, unsure if she should continue complaining or accept the compliment. At last she admitted grudgingly, "Well, I haven't painted any fans in a while. I suppose since this one was ruined by you, I'll need to get out my brush and inks again. What a bother."

"All art requires labour," Suzhen replied steadily. "I am sure Miss Mao's second fan will surpass the first. Why stop at a second, anyway? Why not make more, and see how much more you can improve?"

She stood watching Mao Xiang with a small, enigmatic smile on her lips. Yuanzheng and Xiaohu watched on silently, eyes darting from her to Mao Xiang's face, incredulously. Xuxian kept his eyes fixed on the ground, listening keenly to the conversation. His hand hovered behind Suzhen's elbow.

Mao Xiang tossed the fan on to the ground. "Well, I can't be bothered to carry this since it has no use for me anymore." she said pettishly. She sighed and smoothed her hair back. "What a troublesome day it's been. How vexing--"

Suzhen motioned to the frightened waiter. "Hurry and get up, and clear this mess away before someone slips on it."

The bewildered waiter hastily picked up the shards of the broken teapot and scrubbed at the tea on the floor with his towel. Suzhen held out her hand warningly to Mao Xiang. "Miss Mao, you had still better walk another way. There may still be fragments on the ground. Watch your step. Xiaojun, take care of your mistress."

Mao Xiang found herself ushered out of the way with all courtesy. Suzhen bowed again formally and waved in farewell. "Good day, Miss Mao. Take care, and may your next fan be more beautiful than the last."

Hesitatingly, Mao Xiang was led away by Xiaojun, who was also eager to escape another scene.

She looked back confusedly, eyeing Suzhen, and might very well have decided to stay and continue the meltdown, but that she happened to bump into the teahouse owner. Here at least was familiar territory. Mao Xiang's shrill voice could be heard as she swept out, abusing him and his teahouse and making her customary threats, while the teahouse owner scuttled behind her apologizing and pleading.

Suzhen waited till they had disappeared, then she sat down again, settling her robes calmly. She looked up to see Xuxian, Yuanzheng, and Xiaohu looking silently at her.

She raised her eyebrows. "What is the matter?"

"Sister-in-law. You managed to get us all out of that scrape." Yuanzheng said incredulously.

Xiaohu clapped his hands reverently. "Madame Xu, you turned the axe aside. That gassy woman would have had all our heads for her wretched fan. And you were smiling the whole time! Did you put a spell on her?" he demanded.

Xuxian took her hand. "It looks like my wife is more skilled than I thought. Susu, Susu, how did you win Mao Xiang over like that?"

Yuanzheng shook his head. "She listened to you. No--she respected you. Why is that? She never respects any of us." He shook his head slowly in disbelief.

Suzhen said nothing. Her eyes had wandered over Yuanzheng's head to see Fahai watching them, silently. He was still standing where Qingqing had brushed past him, one hand upright in an amitabha gesture, his brows slightly furrowed.

His eyes passed unseeingly over Xuxian and the others, and fixed on her. His face was set and expressionless, yet Suzhen felt as he had seen right through her.

She felt a sudden coldness blow over her, as if a cold draft had escaped into the teahouse. For a moment she was deaf to Xiaohu's exclamations and Xuxian's teasing; her eyes met the monk's, and she stared back at him wordlessly.

With an effort, she steeled herself, and lowered her gaze with a modest bend of her head, as any woman might have, in a silent reproach.

She turned to Xuxian. "Since we've finished our tea, let's go look for Qingqing, shall we? It doesn't seem like she's coming any time."

There was a smile on her lips, but even as she steadfastly avoided the monk's gaze the awareness of his presence stung at her. She felt as if she could feel his gaze burning a hole in her back, as if any moment his hand might fall on her shoulder. It was all she could do not to pull Xuxian with her and run out of the teahouse.