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Hesitantly, he held out his hand for the flute. When Lan placed it in his palm, it stayed there. Bao’s shoulders relaxed, but his face remained troubled. “It’s not just the road I’m worried about. The witch said that the person who touches me will tie themselves to the spell, too, and I don’t know what that means. I don’t know... what might happen to you.”
A pang of anxiety vibrated in Lan’s gut like a plucked string. But it was too late to go back, and she wanted—needed—to do this, if only to show them both that she wasn’t a terrible person. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she replied, with more courage than she felt.
After a long pause, Bao said, “Thank you. I accept your help.”
“Good,” Lan said, releasing a breath of relief. She glanced over her shoulder at the dark windows of her house, dreading the thought of her parents finding nothing but an empty bed and a note detailing her plans to help rid Bao of his spell. Her mother would likely be more concerned about the fact that Lan was traveling alone with a young man than the fact that the young man was cursed, but it couldn’t be helped. “I need to get some clothes and shoes. And something to eat on the journey. Are you able to eat food, in your... your condition?”
Bao’s stomach rumbled in response. He blushed to the roots of his hair and nearly dropped the flute.
Lan laughed. That was one thing the spell hadn’t changed about him—his awkwardness. “I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen. You’ll be all right for a bit, won’t you? I don’t want to tempt fate, but I don’t know if anything worse could happen to you in the next ten minutes.”
She was rewarded by another slight upward tug of Bao’s lips, and she was a bit discomfited by how badly she wanted to make him smile. She told herself that she just didn’t want him to be angry with her, and she was disoriented by this confusing whirlwind of a night. Her whole world felt as though it had been turned upside down, thanks to the reappearance of this boy she had hurt, who loved her.
Somehow, though, Lan felt sure her grandmother would approve of her decision to help.I’m going on an adventure at last, Bà n?i, she thought, looking up at the sky.Just like we always talked about.The stars seemed to twinkle down at her, putting purpose and certainty into her steps as she hurried back up to her silent house.
9
Bao watched Lan disappear through the gate and let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. For as long as he could remember, he had experienced what he calledterrors—moments in which fear filled his nerves like lightning, his breaths came too fast, and his heart raced like an out-of-control horse, making him light-headed. When the river witch had trapped him inside the flute and pushed his boat adrift, he had panicked to a degree he had never felt before. The enchantment had taken away his body, but it hadn’t affected his mind. In the past, the only cure had been to think, to plan, and to prepare himself, and that was what Bao had tried to do, helpless in the river’s current.
But the more he had tried to be calm, the more his anxiety had worsened. What would he do if the boat really was going to the Gray City? How would he find his mother if he was a flute? And even if he got his body back, would he simply march in and ask if anyone had lost a son nineteen years ago? What if his mother didn’t even want to know him?
And then the boat had brought him here, back to the girl he never wanted to see again.
Bao looked up at the house, turning the flute over and over in his hands. Maybe Lan wasn’t coming back. Maybe she had decided that he was mad or that helping him was too much trouble, and she would leave him alone out here. He would sink inside the flute forever, and he would never know what it was like to be loved, to have a family, or to be a physician in his own right.This isn’t helping, he chided himself as beads of sweat slipped down his temple.
He wiped his face and noticed the edges of his fingers glimmering. He was fading again. “Gods help me,” he choked out, kneeling in the grass before the panic overtook him. He wished he had never come back. He wished Lan hadn’t been so decent, and that he didn’t have to accept her help. Lan, who was now his only chance, and who would never think of him as anything but a lowly peasant.
Here she came, hurrying down the slope with a rough cloth sack over one shoulder. The pale yellow robe she had worn earlier was gone, for which Bao was thankful—the thin, translucent silk had clung to her in ways that he found much too distracting. She now had on a plain overdress and loose pants of cheap tan-colored cloth, and on her feet were a pair of rough shoes that were slightly too big. Her long, luxuriant hair had been woven into a simple braid.
Her distress was evident when she saw the condition he was in. She dropped the sack and knelt beside him. “Bao, I know you asked me not to touch you, but...”
“Just do it, please,” he said hoarsely. He felt the same sharp tug between his ribs and a disorienting lightness, as though he might float away. His fingers scrabbled for grass, for rocks, for anything to keep him on earth... and found Lan’s knee. It was wrong to touch someone whowas not his betrothed in this way, not to mention a woman far above his station, and he wanted to pull away in horror. But his hand seemed locked in place, drawn to her warmth and vitality.
Lan laid her hand on his shoulder, just below his birthmark, where she had touched him that day at tea. His pain dissipated at once, and he could feel every pebble and dip in the ground as his body sank back into the earth. He released a breath and heard Lan do the same. He dreaded the moment when they would break apart and he would no longer feel her anchoring touch.
“Is that better?” she asked.
Bao looked into her wide, soft eyes and saw the star-filled river reflected in them. “Yes, thank you,” he said, and pulled away roughly, ignoring the twinge he felt when he saw hurt flicker across her face.
She patted the cloth sack beside her. “I brought enough food for a few days, and money, too. We’ll likely need to buy more provisions if we’re going all the way to the Gray City.”
“We’re not going to the Gray City,” he said. “At least, not right away—not if I can get back to the witch and persuade her to lift the spell. It could save us a long journey.”
Lan shrugged. “All we can do is try. And I’m rather good at getting people to do what I want them to, so this witch doesn’t stand a chance,” she said, giving him a lopsided smile that made his traitorous heart skip a beat. “Get in the boat. I’ll row.”
“You?” he scoffed. “Do you even know how?”
“Of course,” she said, looking apprehensively at the oars. “You movethosearound.”
Bao bit his lip to keep from laughing or saying anything rude. “Let me row. It’ll be faster if I do it.”
“You’re right.” Lan gazed up at the moon and its light skimmed downthe curve of her throat. “But I’d like to try, just for a minute or two. I think Bà n?i would have found it funny.”
He watched her watching the moon and thought of how the twinkling-eyed old woman, who had always been kind to him, had possessed a spark of mischief he never would have imagined in someone like her. She and Lan had loved each other desperately—that much was clear from all the times he had seen their heads bent close together, wrapped in a world that had no room for anyone else. And now her grandmother was gone forever.
“Of course,” he said, then cursed his own sentimentality when Lan grinned at him, her face blooming like a rose. All she deserved was his civility and politeness; he didn’t need to make her happy, too, not after how awful she had been to him.
Bao tucked her sack next to his and carefully put the flute away. Then he held the vessel steady for her to get in and climbed in after her, face-to-face. The boat, which had always felt spacious, now seemed cramped with two people, especially when one was as tall as he was. No matter how he folded his legs, he couldn’t seem to avoid touching hers.
