I ride the short distance to town, followed by my shadow, the grey dog.  This town gets a lot of visitors, so the stables outside are crowded.  I tether Blaze, unsaddle him and instruct one of the attendants to rub him down and feed him.  The grey dog vanishes, which isn’t unusual.  Then suddenly I hear him bark, which is.  Whipping out my sleeve knife, I swing round into the next section of the stables and stop as if someone’s hit me in the face.

This unsociable dog is cosying up to a neat bay horse who’s nuzzling him as if they’re old friends.  I can’t believe my eyes.  It’s Arrow!  It’s my Arrow, left behind on Qiu mountain two months ago.  And then with a huge thump of my heart, I recognize the tall black standing behind him.  It’s Swift!  It’s Shan’s horse.

Arrow lifts his head, sees me and whickers as I stumble forward and throw my arms stupidly round his neck.  My legs are trembling. 

A hesitant voice behind me says, “Um - Young Master, can I help you?”

Mightily embarrassed at being found embracing a horse, I hastily let go and say, coughing, “I thought I recognized this horse.  Do you know the owner?”

It’s a lad of fifteen or sixteen, as red-faced as I must be.  “I didn’t see, but I’ll ask my mate." 

A moment later, an older man appears.  “These two?  Yes, I remember.  Tall guy, dressed in black, swordsman, tattoo on his face.”

“A tattoo?”

He points to his cheek.  “A snake.  A black snake.”

I thank them and make my way out, hardly conscious of what I’m doing.  The grey dog decides to stay, curling up in the straw at the horses’ feet.  My heart’s thundering.  A black snake?  It must be Shan.  He’s here in this town.  My feet carry me through the gate while my brain’s still in a daze and I find myself in the middle of a huge crowd in the main square.  There’s a vast busy market with throngs of gaily-dressed people, men and women, strolling about laughing and flirting fans, or standing in groups chattering or buying food and drink.  It’s like a festival.  The market square’s bordered by handsome buildings which all seem to be inns, eating-houses or bath-houses

A small child thrusts a notice into my hands, advertising some pleasure-house. Then a man accosts me.  “Young Master, the pleasure capital of the province is at your disposal.  Can I be of any assistance?”

I shake myself.  I’ve got an errand to run.  “Yes, thanks, I’m looking for the street of the carpenters.”

“Ah, business before pleasure, eh?  Right, you go through the main square, take the street on the right and then it’s second on the left.  Can’t miss it.”

People always say you can’t miss it when giving directions and are very often wrong, but this time, the directions are accurate.  I speak to the carpenters and make arrangements for them to come out to the caravan the following afternoon.  But coming back to the main square, I’m seized with a sudden sense of helplessness.  How am I going to find Shan in all these crowds?  Suppose he leaves before we can meet? 

I can’t just stand around.  I sit down at a tavern and order a drink and a plate of snacks.  I suddenly realize that many of the people wandering about are young, attractive and flirtatious.  The air’s heavy with perfume.  I’ve already received a number of provocative glances from passers-by.  They must be courtesans out to take the air or to seek custom.  In fact, the whole town seems to be one vast red-lantern district.  From where I’m sitting, I can see that some of the market stalls are selling ointments and potions guaranteed to excite the appetite.  Children wander about distributing notices advertising the various establishments.

Such a child pushes a piece of paper into my hand and I make a movement of rejection, but she insists.  “Please, Young Master, a man told me to give this to you.”

“What man?” I ask, but she runs off without answering.

I unfold the scrap of paper.  On it there’s the address of a bath-house, as expected, but underneath, there’s the drawing of a black snake.  I stare at it, and my heart starts to thump again.

I call the waiter over and ask for directions.  He repeats them with the weary air of a man who’s uttered these words a thousand times before.  I push my way through the crowds, hardly caring whose feet I’m treading on or whose shoulders I bump into.  I find myself in a quiet back-street in which the bath-house is the only building of note.  It’s surrounded by a high wall with a stout wooden door.  I push the door open and go in to find a reception room with a counter and a bored-looking man behind it reading a book.  He’s yawning hugely, not bothering to cover his mouth.  Seeing me, he hastily shoves the book under the counter.

“I’m looking for a tall guy, big sword, tattoo on his cheek.”

“You were quick,” he says.

“What?”

He looks me up and down and sniggers.  “You’re not quite what I expected, but you’d better hurry.  Your client’s waiting.”

“My ….?”

“It’s your lucky day,” he says, yawning again, “He’s booked the private spring, so he’s no skinflint.  You’ll get a good tip if you please him.  Through that door.  The Peony Room.  First on the left.”

He thinks I’m a courtesan, come to service a client.

He watches me as I walk towards the door and push it open to find myself in a pleasant garden with small buildings scattered here and there.  I find the Peony Room with no trouble and walk up the path to the door.  I find I’m shaking.  I lift my hand to knock, but the door opens, my wrist’s seized and I’m yanked unceremoniously into the room.  There’s no time to think, I’m crushed against a hard body, his mouth’s on mine, I clutch at him, he lifts me into the air and whirls me round, kissing me over and over again.  I’m laughing and crying at the same time and manage to get my mouth free long enough to gasp out, “Haven’t – bathed – for – ages – must – smell - terrible.” 

He's laughing too.  “Think I haven’t thought of that?  There’s a spring in there.  You’ve got five minutes.”

He carries me through a door and dumps me down, still laughing.  My wrist-guards come off, my tunic’s whipped over my head, my trousers are pulled down and then I’m deposited bodily into a large marble tub of water.  The only thing left on me is my bracelet.

“Shall I scrub you?” he asks teasingly.

I finally get a good look at him.  “You’ve cut your hair!”

“Do you like it?”

“You look so different.  And the tattoo!”

“Wash,” he orders.

It feels amazingly good to bathe after days spent in the saddle with only a strip-wash in cold water at night.  I’d like to linger, but I’m not given the chance.  Two hands seize me under my arms and haul me out, a drying-cloth envelops me and then his mouth’s on mine again and I’m suddenly overcome with pent-up desire.  He carries me back to the room and then we’re on the bed.  He’s only wearing an outer robe, which he shucks off so that we’re skin to skin.  Our need’s so urgent that we waste no time, though he’s had the forethought to buy lubricating ointment.  In a moment, we’re locked together.   After that, it all goes crazy.   We couple frenziedly again and again, as if to reassure ourselves that we’re both still alive, with only a few moments’ respite now and then before we helplessly engage once more.  At one point I find myself sobbing.  He licks the tears off my face and kisses me till I’m half-conscious and desperate for him again.

It’s mid-afternoon when we finally reach exhaustion point.  We’re lying glued together, his body half-sprawled over mine, his head on my chest, my arms around him.  My half-dried hair’s scattered over the pillows.  After a while, he sighs.  “Oh Gods, I’ve missed you,” he says.

My arms tighten round his shoulders and I can’t stop the tears springing into my eyes again.  “I heard you’d been killed in a fire,” I say, choked.

He lifts his head, sees my tears, and moves to hold me in his arms.  “No, no.  I’m here.  I’m alive.  Don’t cry.”

“I love you.  I missed you too.”

His mouth in my hair, he says quietly, “I thought you were dead too, back there, for a while.”

I clutch at him and he holds me tightly.  After a moment, I get a grip on myself.  I lift my head and we stare at one another.  It’s the face I love:  the dark brows, the definite nose, the resolute mouth.  I stroke the short hair, then touch the tattoo on his face.

“It’s just ink,” he says, smiling a little.  “Lady Han’s doing.  It’ll wear off.”

”Ah-Ming?  She rescued you?”

“Not just me, but Lady Ding and the boy.”

My eye falls on the brace on his forearm, which I hadn’t really noticed in the heat of the moment.  “What happened?”

“Ding Bao broke my arm.  That’s why it’s taken me so long to catch up with you.”

“Broken?  Is it all right?”

“It’s fine.  I just need to keep the brace on for a few more days.”

He raises himself on one elbow and looks down at me appraisingly.

“You’ve got thinner.  And what’s that scar on your hip?”

“I had a fight.  The other guy came off worse.”

“Lang Huo?”

I’m astonished.  “How did you know?”

“I’ll tell you.  Let’s bathe.  We both need it now.”

I wince as I sit up and he frowns.  “I was too rough.  Sorry.  I wanted you so much.”

I put a hand up to cover his lips.  “I wanted you too.  Anyway, it’s not that bad.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“I can walk,” I protest.

“I want to carry you.  Don’t argue.”

So I obediently let him carry me to the pool and lower me into the water, sighing at the feeling of comfort.  He disappears into the room, coming back with a jug and two cups which he puts down on the side of the tub.  Then he slides into the water behind me and pulls me into his arms.  I lay my head back on his shoulder and say, “You first.”

We sip wine while I listen to his story and feel the ache in my body dissipate gradually. 

“How did Ah-Ming know I was still alive?”  I ask when he finishes.

“The earring gave it away.”

I’d totally forgotten about the earring.  I start to laugh.  “I thought I’d been so careful.”

“Tell me about it.”

It’s his turn now to listen to me.

“So Lord Zhao got away,” he says, “That’s one less worry.”

I look up at him.  “It’s really you, isn’t it?  Not a dream?”

“Aren’t you convinced yet?” he asks teasingly, raising one hand to my face. 

I turn my mouth into his palm and kiss it.  After a moment, I say, “What happens now?”

“My sister and her husband’s family are in prison and the Emperor’s stuck on the southern borders.  I have to get to the capital and try and get Ah-Lien out.”

“Do you think we can?”

“I won’t know till we get there and see how the land lies.  In the meanwhile, we’re both officially dead so nobody will be looking for us.”

“There’s still a danger.  Those wanted posters are everywhere.”

“If anything happens, the military in Qiu City will confirm my death.”

I turn round in his arms.  “Listen, Hao Meng just lost his two best men.  He’s hiring, he’d take you on in a flash.  Mind you, it’s not all a bed of lotuses.  There’s a kid called Zhu Yu who’s a real troublemaker and nobody dares go up against him.”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind.  I’ll see Hao Meng tomorrow.” He hesitates.  “It would probably be best if we pretend we don’t know one other.  We don’t want people making the connection between the heroic Commander and the beautiful young Prince.”

“Oh, you heard about that?”

“In every tavern on the way here.”

 “But that means we’ll have to stay apart,” I say, dismayed.

“Only for the time being.”

“We could pretend to fall for one another.  You could seduce me this time.” 

“I’d have to get my strength back first,’ he says. 

Dreamily, I say, “The guy at the desk thought I was a courtesan.  He told me not to keep you waiting.”

His lips touch a sensitive place behind my ear.  “You didn’t.  The client’s perfectly satisfied.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  Would you recommend me to a friend?”

“Nope.  I have exclusive rights.”

“So you do.”

With the gates closing at midnight, we don’t have to rush.  Shan orders food and we eat a leisurely and very welcome meal and then settle down with cups of wine in our hands.  I give Shan a run-down on the characters of the various families and the problems of the caravan:  the incompetence of Hao Meng’s other men, the indiscipline of the travelers, the particular difficulties with Zhu Yu.  “He reminds me of Yu Kang.  The same obstinacy.  He can’t be reached.”

“We’ll see.”  He strokes the hair back off my face and kisses my forehead. 

With everything that’s happened, I’m starting to feel sleepy.  I lie back in Shan’s arms and close my eyes.  The familiar warmth and the familiar scent envelop me.  I go to sleep smiling.

He wakes me up some time before midnight and, yawning, I reluctantly get dressed.  He straps up my wrist-guards as he used to do back in Qiu City and then we stand and look at one another.  His lips are swollen, just like mine, and there are red marks on his neck.

“We look….” I begin.

“….all shagged out,” he finishes, and we chuckle, remembering Shao Ru.

He pulls me towards him and rests his forehead against mine.

“I’m not going to kiss you because if I do, you’ll never get out of here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.  Oh….” I suddenly remember something.  Fumbling in my waist-pouch, I take out the twin of my bracelet.

“I got this for you.  But I guess if you wear it, it’ll give the game away.”

He takes it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.  “I’ll keep it till I can wear it.  Thank you, little fox.  Now go, before I forget my good intentions.”

“I’m going.”

In the reception room, the guy behind the counter doesn’t bother to hide the book he’s reading.  As I get near, I see it’s a book of pornographic drawings.  He looks me up and down and sniggers.

“I’m surprised you can still walk,” he says.

I ignore him and head for the door.

He says, “What’s your price, for an afternoon?”

“Ten years of your salary,” I reply.  “Stick to jerking off behind the counter.”

Shao Ru would be proud of me.