Page 72 of Silk and Sensibility

She was still loath to part with him, but if this was what he wanted, she could follow his wishes. “If we take this Sun boy, will you promise to come back safe and sound?”

“Yes,” Captain Bai said after a brief hesitation.

His hesitation drove Meilin mad. She had never cared for him as more than a friend during the entire time she had known him, but after seeing his selflessness and courage, the thought of him marching into danger while she was running away tugged at her heart. She couldn’t let him leave without expressing appreciation.

After some thought, she pulled the golden chāi pin out of her hair and pressed it into Captain Bai’s hand.

His eyebrows shot up so high that they disappeared under his helmet. Giving a man such a gift was serious because he could interpret it as a love token. Under normal circumstances, she would never have given him a hairpin, but it was all she had on her. Captain Bai could interpret it however he wanted. As long as he came back safely from battle, there would be time to explain later.

“A promise is a promise. If you break your word, I will never forgive you,” she vowed.

眾志成城，法力無邊。只願君平安。

I heard from monks at Tianzhu Monastery that the goddess Guānyīn personally appeared six years ago to drive a gang of pirates away from Hangzhou. I’ve also heard stories of common people working together to barricade their villages from invaders. Wherever you are, I hope you are always protected and safe, whether by divine intervention or the kindness of fellow mortals.

—Unsent letter from Fan Enze to Duan Ailin

Chapter 29

Ailin

As Captain Bai tucked Meilin’s favorite chāi pin under his armor, Ailin realized that her sister might be falling in love again. In the past, Ailin would have reminded her not to act impulsively without parental approval, but since Captain Bai saved their lives, Meilin giving him a hairpin to express her gratitude was, perhaps, not entirely inappropriate. There were definitely worse men Meilin could fall in love with.

Before he left, Captain Bai introduced them to a gangly youth who looked barely older than Ming­ming. “This is Sun. I’ve ordered him to protect you ladies on your way back to Suzhou. Do not let him slack in his duties.”

Young Sun looked at Captain Bai the way Ailin had looked at Father long ago, something like unsurety mixed with eagerness to prove himself. Sun saluted Captain Bai before turning to Ailin and offering to carry her shoulder pack. Ailin gratefully accepted his help.

As Captain Bai rode away with his soldiers, she stood with Meilin and Sun on the side of the road, none of them taking their eyes off the marching troops until they disappeared into the distance.

Sun turned out to be sociable as well as hardworking. Though he seemed disappointed about missing a battle while the men he viewed as older brothers were fighting, he treated Captain Bai’s command to take care of Meilin and Ailin seriously. He carried all their belongings, shared his food and water supplies, and led them back to the city on what he assured them was the safest route.

With Sun’s help, they entered Xu Gate before sunset. As they walked through the city wall and into the western side of the city, Ailin heard people in the crowd whisper about how chaos had broken out at Chang Gate and how lucky they were to get in through Xu Gate.

The poorer southwestern part of the city was wholly un­familiar to Ailin, and she was grateful for Sun’s sense of direction, especially because the lanterns that were supposed to light the exterior of houses after curfew were not consistently lit.

The streets widened as they reached the Jiangs’ neighborhood, but Ailin kept her eyes on her feet, not wanting to trip now that they were so close to home. Having walked more than she ever had in twenty years, she felt numb. She could only imagine how much harder walking was for Meilin, who was still injured and doubtlessly in pain.

Finally, at the front gate of Batong Mansion, Ailin asked Sun to knock. She had no energy left at all.

The doors creaked open. A trapezoid of light spilled out from the courtyard followed by familiar figures.

Mother ran out, crying. “Buddha bless us; my girls are home!”

Ailin was swept up in an embrace. Her mother smelled like rice and sweat and love. It was almost too wonderful to believe. They were home. Ailin’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes.

Ming­ming and Begonia came out on Mother’s heels, followed by Grand­mother Jiang and a contingent of servants.

Grand­mother Jiang, who had been carried home by their family’s private guards, apologized for not staying with Ailin and Meilin. “I should have protected you both.”

Ailin, who never expected Grand­mother Jiang to protect them, thought it was very kind of her to care. “We are safe now, and that’s all that matters. Thank you for welcoming us home.” She quickly turned to Meilin. “My sister needs to see a doctor as soon as possible. She was shot by an arrow.”

Grand­mother Jiang ordered a servant to fetch the doctor right away. Luckily, there already was a doctor in residence working to extract the Wōkòu arrow from Uncle Meng’s shoulder.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. People bustled around to help. Once Sun was introduced to the household and Meilin received medical care, Ailin realized she had done all she could. Knowing that, she retired to her room and slept until noon the next day.

When Ailin awoke, she found her family’s courtyard unusually quiet. There was no sign of Mother, Ming­ming, or Begonia. She didn’t know if they were all busy elsewhere or just trying to give her and Meilin time and space to recover.

After so much violence and tumult the day before, peace felt strange. Violet-blue hydrangeas bloomed outside Ailin’s window, and a breeze brought her the clean scent of lotuses from a nearby koi pond.