Through the Pouring Rain

He shook his head impatiently. "Well, that was that. What am I doing here staring after her? It will rain soon and I should go back in."

Turning resolutely back to his house, he put his hand on the gate just as a peal of thunder tore through the air. Mao Jin paused and looked back over his shoulder, unable to resist a last glance.

He started. For a moment he saw her standing there, just about to disappear around the corner of the path, and then the next moment she had tumbled to the ground out of sight.

Mao Jin's fingers tightened on the bowl and he caught his breath.

He came to himself as the rain came pouring down with another crack of thunder. With a muttered oath, he set the bowl down and plunged out into the rain.

"Just my luck," he said through clenched teeth as he dashed up the path and knelt by the body lying huddled on the ground. Gingerly he shook her. "Madame," he shouted over the rain. "Madame, are you all right?"

There was no answer.

Hastily he got her arms around his neck and heaved her onto his back, stumbling in the slippery mud as he tried to keep his balance. Her arms kept sliding uselessly off his shoulders and she felt limp and cold, a dead weight that made it feel eerily like he was carrying a corpse. Brushing those uncomfortable thoughts from his mind, Mao Jin made his way back to his house, panting.

"I just hope I'm not being a fool," he panted as he struggled doggedly up the path, bent double under his burden, and blinded by the pouring rain. "What should I do if she's already dead, and they say it's my fault? Ah, well, it's too late now."

He laid her onto the bed and straightened, breathing heavily, to look at her. For the first time he wished he hadn't delayed finding a servant to stay with him.

Mao Jin stoked up the fire, then picked up a blanket and covered her awkwardly with it.

"I am not touching her," he said firmly aloud, as if there were people watching him suspiciously. "It is regrettable but unavoidable. I've taken enough liberties carrying her in like that. If she were to wake up and accuse me of--" He shook his head decidedly and retreated to a seat beside the fire to dry his hair and decide what to do.

With a sigh, he poured himself some tea and sipped it. A wry smile came to his lips. "Mother would be pleased with me, at least, for doing something charitable, however inconvenient this is for me now. I suppose I will have to sleep on the couch in my study tonight. Well, one won't die from that."

He eyed the still face, critically studying the features. In the city he had seen many beauties, and the other scholars often discussed their merits, arguing over which was fairer. He had seen and heard enough to know that this woman was exceptional, yet it was strange that he had never heard of her before. Even if she was a commoner, it was surprising that some noble or lord had not already seen her and taken her for themselves. With a hopeless shrug, he added that to the list of questions swarming in his mind. She had some nerve, to be travelling on her own like this without even a veil. She was either skilled, reckless, or just plain stupid.

Perhaps she knew martial arts. That would explain some of those questions. She might be from some mysterious elite sect hidden away on the mountains. Or she could be a runaway concubine, or an assassin...

He ran through the possibilities, none of which made him feel much better about the fact that she would be spending the night in his house. The more he thought about it the more uneasy he felt. Who knew what trouble he might be getting in by sheltering her.

Unlike many of his fellow scholars, Mao Jin had preserved a careful distance from women. When he first came to the city, a timid, wide-eyed boy fresh from his mother's Taoist teachings, he had avoided the dancing girls and brothels that his friends frequented, because they made him feel uncomfortable. His friends teased him for his prudishness and called him "the monk," but he watched with raised eyebrows the trouble they got into while chasing one beauty after another, and held his peace.

What was more, his half-sister Mao Xiang was a well-known beauty. They had only spent a few years of their childhood together but neither treasured those memories. She had been very pretty even then but he only remembered how much he disliked her. In addition to being the late Lady Mao's only child, Mao Xiang was older than him by a few years and she had taken full advantage of it, stealing his sweetmeats, playing pranks on him, and ordering him around. Even his mother had to endure it when Mao Xiang was rude to her. He had never lacked anything growing up in the Mao manor, but it had not been a pleasant childhood.

He developed a distrust of beautiful women which made him seem immune to their charms, and oddly like an old man despite his youth and good looks. As a result, there was a coolness in his gaze even now that made him look slightly scornful, though he did not realize it.

His eyes were thoughtful as he studied her.

On second thought he got up and went over, placing his fingers on the limp wrist. "She's still alive, at least," he muttered. "I'll send Madame Shen for a doctor tomorrow morning once she arrives. And we'll see if this mysterious lady wakes up by then to explain herself."

He glanced at her face, and folded his arms over his chest perplexedly. "Don't die on me, please, madame. It wasn't easy for me to carry you back here, and I've got a lot of questions about you I would like some answers to. You need to last the night."

Bai Suzhen slept on. In utter weariness she finally had some relief from the burdens oppressing her from within.