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“You deserve to be loved,” he told her, nearly dropping the brooch in his agitation. “I have loved you for half my life, though I’m not worthy of you. The thought of you kept me waking up each day and working hard, rather than giving in. I felt less alone because of you.”
Lan kept her head bowed and did not make a single sound.
Bao put the scarf and brooch on his chair, wanting so much to hold her that it was physically painful. “I wanted you to know what you have meant to me,” he said. “That’s why I did it. That’s why I helped them lie.”
She murmured something.
“What did you say?” he asked anxiously, leaning forward.
At last, Lan stared up at him with wet, red-rimmed eyes. And then she slapped him across the face with all of her strength. “I said, get out of my sight!” she screamed.
5
I have never heard Bao talk so much before.
That was the nonsensical thought that ran through Lan’s mind as Bao told her, his face red with shame, that Tam had never loved her back. She listened, feeling disoriented, as thoughthiswere the dream and the nights of music had been the reality. But as her eyes returned to the gifts she had given to Tam along with her heart, she began to understand, with a cold sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she had been wrong. So, so wrong.
Tam had not written her the love song.
Tam had not played her such beautiful music.
Tam had not bothered to come and see her.
He would rather defy his parents than marry her, and he had even thrown her brooch away. She remembered, with painful clarity, the day she had bought it for him at market. The woman who had been selling unusual pieces of jewelry had explained to Lan that they were heart-jewels, a custom from her mountain village: a girl would give one to her true loveas a token of endless devotion, and once bestowed, it should never be given back for fear of bad luck. She had beamed when Lan selected the dragonfly, saying, “Be sure you choose the right man.”
And Lan had failed to do that.
She stood in a nauseated daze, only half listening to Bao. Everything had been a lie. The Huynhs had tricked her and she had cultivated their false seed of hope in her mind. She was pining for someone who did not want her. She thought of all the times her relatives had teased her and expressed doubt that her wedding would ever happen. Perhaps everyone else had known... everyone except her. Oh, what a fool she had been.
A raging headache pounded in her temples. For the first time in her adult life, Lan wanted to kick and scream and hit something. Why, oh, why was Bao still talking? And those long fingers of his, forever tapping against his legs, seemed to drive his nervous energy right into her skull.
“Get out of my sight,” she whispered.
“What did you say?”
She looked up at him, at his mouth crooked with worry and his deep-set eyes full of pity. She was sure the servants were watching—a scandal like this would fuel their gossip for months. She didn’t care. All she knew was that the young man looking at her was not the one she wanted. He was only a messenger, but his message had shattered her heart.
Lan hauled back and slapped him across the face. “I said, get out of my sight!”
Bao pressed a hand over his reddening cheek. He looked so stunned that she might have regretted it if she hadn’t felt like breaking a chair with her bare hands just then.
“You dare make a proposition to me at a time like this?” she shouted.
“Not a proposition,” he protested, still holding his face. “I wanted to tell you the truth, because you deserved to hear it. And I wanted you to know why I went along with it.”
“I don’t care why!” Lan yelled, hearing gasps from the maids across the courtyard. She knew that later, when they described this scene to all of their friends, she would be painted as the villain and Bao as the wronged suitor and that made her even angrier. She felt herself unraveling before him like a spool of discarded thread. “You’ve made a fool out of me.”
“Please, I never wanted to...”
Spots danced in her vision and she could barely hear him for the roaring sound in her ears. Somewhere beneath her roiling fury, she knew Tam was the true object of her fury. But it was poor, sweet Bao who had the bad luck to be here, towering over her with wide, wounded eyes like a hurt fawn’s. “Do you truly think this is a good time to confess your love?” she raged. “You, anorphanof no family! And I, the daughter of a royal minister! How dare you!”
Bao’s hand fell away from his face. “I thought that didn’t matter to you,” he said, his voice low and shocked. “You were always so kind to me.”
“I am kind to everyone,” she spat, in a low, acidic tone she hadn’t known she was capable of, “because my mother taught me well. You mean nothing to me, Bao. You never have. You’re a peasant.” She choked on the rest of her words, but she had said quite enough.
He staggered backward, his eyes full of tears, and it was so unsettling that Lan forgot her anger. She had never seen a man cry before, not even her father when Bà n?i had passed away. Feeling faint, she groped for the edges of her fury. It was her only shield, and she knew that when it vanished, there would be nothing left but terrible, burning guilt at her cruel behavior.
“Lan!” Lady Vu hurried over and threw her arms around her daughter,glaring at Bao. “We heard everything. I think you ought to leave and never show your face here again.”
