I wake up late yet again, as does Yao Lin.  We emerge into the courtyard together, to be greeted by a servant eager to bear bad tidings.  The Young Miss of a neighbouring family has been found drowned in a well, the day after being selected as a candidate for the Emperor’s harem.  There are whispers about suicide.

“They managed it,” says Yao Lin.

Madam Lei comes towards us with a solemn face.  “Ah-Qing’s told me what’s going on.  I’m going over to the Lai house to offer my condolences.  Was there really no other way?”

“Unfortunately not.  The Emperor’s a vindictive man.  This is the only way the household will escape punishment.”

“I see,” she says, “And Xiaxia’s well?”

“She’s staying with the Liangs for the time being.  You and Ah-Qing should visit.”

“Yes, I should like to meet your Doctor Liang.  And we need to discuss Xiaxia’s future.”

“I’ll take you over this afternoon.  And we’ll come with you to the Lai house now.”

I nearly regret my decision, for as we approach the door of the Lai house, we’re obliged to step back to let a group of people out.  I recognize the familiar uniform of the Imperial eunuchs and quickly hide behind a pillar covered with a flowering plant.  I don’t know the leading eunuch, a man of some importance.  His face is grim, but he looks more annoyed than sorrowful.  The others follow behind him to their carriage, which is waiting at the gate.

Inside, the family’s gathered.  The head of the household looks ill but as we offer our condolences, it becomes apparent that his ill-health’s due more to the Emperor’s displeasure than to actual grief.  The same is true of First Elder Brother, a heavy man who shares none of the delicate looks of his younger brother and sister.  According to Lai Xue, they’re from different mothers, his and Xiaxia’s mother having been a second wife.  Lai Xue’s there too, weeping crocodile tears into a large silk handkerchief.  There are no wives and children to be seen.

Given the circumstances, the family has apparently escaped serious punishment, though they’re obviously under the Imperial displeasure.  The eunuch we just saw has made it clear that the actions of this disobedient daughter are an insult to the Emperor.  The reaction to being selected for the honour of becoming a concubine should be joy, not suicide.  Clearly Young Miss Lai was suffering from instability of the mind to make such a choice.  The implication’s that this comes from the maternal side of the family and since Xiaxia’s mother is now dead and can’t protest, poor lady, it’s convenient to lay the blame on her. 

We’re about to get out of the atmosphere of hypocrisy and false lamentation when two familiar faces appear at the door:  Madam Zhu and Little Huang.  I'm taken aback by the change in Madam Zhu.  She looks puffy-eyed, dispirited, defeated.  She and Little Huang pay their respects to the family, but as more visitors arrive, they move back and join us as we head for the door.  Madam Zhu has tears in her eyes.  “That poor child,” she says, her voice breaking, “After what happened to Ah-Yu, it’s too much.  The young shouldn't die like this.” 

Madam Lei takes her friend’s arm.  “Come and have tea, Ah-Shi,” she says, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

We swear them to secrecy and over tea, Madam Lei tells them the story.  Madam Zhu’s face changes comically from utmost misery to round-mouthed astonishment and, finally, to relief.  Then she starts to chuckle admiringly.  “That little brat.  Tell you what, Ah-Chan, these young girls have twice the nerve we had at their age.  You’ve really got to hand it to her.  Ah, you’ve taken such a weight off my mind.  I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse and then when I heard the news….”  She shakes her head ruefully.

We all look at one another.  “Is everything all right at home?” Madam Lei asks in concern.

Madam Zhu shakes her head again, this time with resignation.  “Since Ah-Yu died, my husband hasn’t been himself.  He just sits in his room staring at the wall, barely talks, hardly eats, can’t be bothered with business.  We have to think about the spring caravan and I can’t get him to take an interest at all.  I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“That’s easy,” says Madam Lei.  “We’ll be sending a caravan in the spring.  Join us.  And if there’s anything we can do to help out, just let us know.”

We all nod, smiling.  Madam Zhu looks round at all our faces and her eyes start to look suspiciously watery again.  “You’re such good friends,” she says, “Thank you.”

“And you’ll stay for lunch?”  Madam Lei says. 

“Yes please,” says Little Huang eagerly.

It’s a happy meal and by the end of it, Madam Zhu’s back to something approaching her old positive self.  Little Huang has grown immeasurably in self-confidence since we last saw him.  No longer timid and fearful, he's bubbling over with high spirits. It's a real pleasure to see.  It's just a pity it took Zhu Yu's death to bring about the change.

After lunch we see them off on their way home, and set out on our visit to the Liangs.  This is an unqualified success, as Madam Lei and Madam Liang take an instant liking to one another and immediately begin plotting on Xiaxia’s behalf.  Xiaxia herself is playing with the children, who are already completely under her thumb.  Liang Zhou and I retreat to a shady place in the garden to talk.

“They got hold of the body of some poor girl who’d drowned herself and dressed her up in the clothes that terrible child brought early this morning.  Then Ren Baiyi and his friend went along to the nearest command post to report the death and the younger brother identified the body as that of his sister.  Nobody batted an eyelid.  I was expecting someone to have suspicions, but no-one asked any questions.  A child drowning herself hardly seems to be considered important.  Shameful!  How’s the family taking it?”

“Angry they’ve lost a valuable asset.  The Palace isn’t pleased, but no heads have rolled.”

“Well that’s a relief.  It doesn’t look good for the Emperor’s image, young girls killing themselves rather than go into the Palace.”

We hear the sound of children’s voices laughing and Liang Zhou smiles involuntarily.  “I have to say, Xiaxia’s perfectly charming and she has a way with children.  It takes some of the weight off my wife’s back.”

“She’ll surprise you.  She may look delicate but she’s intelligent and resourceful.  Completely wasted in a harem.”

“Is it my imagination or is Ren Baiyi….?”

“Head over heels,” I reply with a laugh.

“Ah, to be young,” he says, sighing.

We’re silent for a moment, then he asks, “Any news about your plans?”

I shake my head.  “Not yet.  Everything’s ready but we’re waiting on the army.  I wish they’d get a move on.”

“It’s always the waiting that’s worst.  I wish it were all over.”

So do I.  Then Shan and I could  get on with our lives.

Nothing happens for another five days.  Then early one morning a messenger-child from the Cherry Blossom Pavilion brings me a note from Yuan Song.  Move tonight.  An hour before sunset.

To my surprise, I’m quite calm.  I notify everyone.  Hao Meng hires a carriage and a palanquin, which are hidden in a warehouse belonging to a friend of Shao Su’s, along with what I think of in my mind as the costumes.  It does rather seem like a play in which we’re all actors.  I go about my business, a little preoccupied, running over the plan in my mind.  Nothing must go wrong.  But I know very well that something always does.  One must be ready for the unexpected.  Somewhere, Shan’s doing the same things, preparing for his part in the play, rehearsing his moves.  Our future depends on what happens in the next few days.

An hour before sunset, we’re on the move.  I’m reclining in the carriage, dressed in the robes and hat of an official, my Imperial edict on the seat beside me and a fan in my hand.  Mo Jiang’s driving, dressed as a peasant down to the straw he’s chewing.  Behind us ride Shao Ru, Hao Meng, Ren Baiyi and Zi Wuying, unrecognizable in their helmets.  It’s the end of the day.  The people of the city are on their way home for their evening meal and sleep.  No-one takes much notice of us. 

Coincidentally, the temple gates are open as we arrive.  We’re asked to state our business.

I’ve decided to model myself on Commander Gu.  So I stretch an indolent hand out of the carriage window, wave the edict and drawl, ”Prime Minister Gu’s office to see the person in charge of female prisoners, whoever that may be.”

“Yes, my Lord.  Drive right in.”

We advance into the courtyard and pull up.  There’s a high wall in front of us with two doors in it, some distance apart.  My escort dismounts and holds their horses’ heads.  We wait.  After several minutes, the left-hand door opens and a monk advances self-importantly towards us, followed by three others, their hands hidden in their sleeves.  I descend from the carriage and wait, flipping my fan impatiently.  As the newcomer opens his mouth, I forestall him curtly.  “I have an Imperial edict for whoever’s in charge here.  Would that be you?”

His eyelids flicker.  He’s obviously not an Abbot, but he smiles ingratiatingly and holds out a hand.  “I’ll take it, my Lord.”

“But are you the person in charge?” I enquire silkily.  “I wouldn’t like this to get into the wrong hands.”

The smile disappears.  But as he’s about to reply, his eyes slide past and beyond me.  An expression of extreme irritation crosses his face.  At the same time, I hear a woman’s voice, authoritative, impersonal, commanding.  “What’s this, Brother?  An Imperial edict?”

“Yes, Lady Abbess.”

Lady Abbess?  I turn.  I hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but behind me is a tall woman dressed in nun’s robes, a hood pulled over her head.  Another nun, head bent, hands humbly clasped, is standing behind her.  Sheer terror grips me.

I know this woman. 

She’s my aunt!

My father the Emperor had an elder sister, who was married off to a member of the nobility and became a widow at an early age.  She then took nun’s vows and left the Palace.  The face under the hood is more than ten years older than when I last saw it, but the strong features, the beak of a nose, are unmistakable.

Will she recognize me?

My shocked brain lurches into motion again.  I bow.  “Greetings, Lady Abbess.”

She holds out an imperious hand and I put the edict into it.  She unrolls it with a flick of her wrist, casts a shrewd glance at me, and begins to read.  Halfway through, she looks up at the group of monks, who are shuffling uneasily.  “You may leave,” she says, “I’ll handle this.”

The leading monk’s face is green, but he has no option.  “Yes, Lady Abbess,” he says.  They bow and retreat.

“You’ve come to move Young Lady Li to a place of greater security?”

“Yes, Lady Abbess.”

She turns to her attendant and says crisply, “Go and tell Young Lady Li to prepare to leave immediately.  And that little crosspatch of a maid as well.  Hurry!”  The last word comes out with a decided snap.

The attendant bows and hurries off, as the Abbess turns back to me.  “Walk with me,” she commands.

We move some distance away from the carriage.  I wonder in some trepidation what’s coming next.

“It’s very strange,” she observes, looking up at the sky, “But you remind me very much of a young nephew of mine who, unfortunately, was assassinated some months ago.  Of course, I hadn’t seen him since he was a child, but he looked remarkably like his mother, who was a good friend of mine.”

“A coincidence, perhaps?” I suggest, my voice a little faint.

“Perhaps.  He was a charming child.  I was sorry to hear of his death.”

I decide to take a chance.  “Might I suggest, Lady Abbess, that sometimes news from faraway places may not be entirely reliable?”

“Do you know,” she says, “That’s just what I was thinking.  Do I have your word of honour that Young Lady Li will come to no harm?”

“You have my word of honour.”

“Thank you.  You’ve come just in time.”

I’m still puzzling over this last remark when the door to the courtyard opens again and two women come through, one leaning heavily on the other.  Their progress across the courtyard is strangely slow.  I frown, peering to get a better look and then the second shock of the day hits me.

Li Lien’s pregnant.  She’s so pregnant she can barely move.  She’s dressed in nun’s robes.  The other person is a short girl in servant’s clothes, carrying a bundle.  As they get close, she looks at me with a ferocious scowl on her small face.  Shan’s sister’s as pale as paper, her hands and feet swollen, her expression one of endurance. The Abbess looks at my shocked face.  “Yes,” she says, “I had a plan to save the baby, but I couldn’t have saved Lady Li, so your arrival’s most timely.  If I may advise you, leave as quickly as possible.  There are spies on the monks’ side.  And don’t come back.”

“Thank you, Lady Abbess,” I say, bowing.   I start forward to help Lady Li, then remember who I’m supposed to be.  I turn to Mo Jiang and say, “Help her.”  Then I bow to the Abbess again and get into the carriage.

Mo Jiang says, “I’ll carry you, my Lady.”  The little servant opens her mouth to object, but Mo Jiang takes no notice.  Picking Li Lien up easily, he brings her to the carriage and places her on the seat beside me.  Then he turns to the maid, who’s still scowling.  “Going to get in by yourself or shall I give you a hand?”

“Where are you taking us?” she demands, holding her ground.

“You’ll find out,” says Mo Jiang.

She starts to protest, but Mo Jiang’s big hands seize her round the waist and propel her unceremoniously into the carriage, where she arrives in a heap.

“Sit next to your mistress and keep quiet,” I say. 

The carriage lurches as Mo Jiang climbs back onto the box.  He clicks his tongue to the horse and we start to move. 

Li Lien opens her eyes and looks at me with dull despair.  Disregarding etiquette, I take the swollen hands in mine and say, “Young Lady Li, we’re friends.  We’re taking you out of here.  Just be patient for a while.  You too,” I add to the maid, who’s still glaring.

We’re out of the gate now.  Mo Jiang calls a cheery farewell to the guards and the gates close behind us.  We clip-clop through the quiet streets.  I’m braced for shouts and challenges, but none come. 

“Who are you?” Li Lien’s voice is very faint.

“A friend of your family.  Try to relax and don’t worry.”

Her eyes close again.  The maid puts an arm round her shoulders and stares at me suspiciously. 

In fifteen minutes, we reach the warehouse, still unchallenged.  Getting out of the carriage, I hand a pile of women’s clothing in to the maid.  “Help your mistress change into these clothes.  We’re transferring you to a palanquin.”

The men are changing into bearer’s clothes, ready to carry the palanquin.  I change too, hardly able to believe that we’ve actually done it.  As I tie my belt, I hear the maid call, “My Lord!”  I go over.  She shows me Li Lien’s shabby robe.  It’s damp and there’s blood on it, quite a lot of blood.

“The baby?  The baby’s coming?”

She nods, biting her lip.

“All right. You just take care of her.”

I dash over to the others.  “Change of plan.  The baby’s coming.  We’ll take her to Liang Zhou’s.  It’s nearer than the Third Prince’s house and she may need a doctor.”

“Right you are,” says Shao Ru.  “Don’t worry, babies don’t come all at once.  It’ll take some time.”

“How do you know?” Ren Baiyi says, elbowing him.  They’re all grinning, high with success.

“You’d be surprised,” says Shao Ru.

“Keep it together,” I say.  “We’re not done yet.”

“Ah-Shan’s going to be an uncle.”  Shao Ru sounds happy.  “We’re all going to be uncles.”

Mo Jiang helps Li Lien carefully into the palanquin and settles her down.  Her face is tense with pain and apprehension.

“Get in with her,” I say to the maid.  Then to Li Lien, “We’re taking you to a doctor’s house, so just hold on.  We’ll try not to jolt you.”

“Thank you.”  Her voice is a mere whisper.

The four bearers lift the palanquin.  Mo Jiang and I lend a hand.  We set off through the mercifully quiet streets.  Again, no-one challenges us. 

This is going almost too well. 

Liang Zhou, as ever, is majestic in a crisis.  Once inside his gate, Li Lien’s lifted out and swept into the house, her maid’s taken away by Madam Liang and all we have to do is get rid of the evidence.  Hao Meng goes off to return the carriage to the stable where he hired it and then to take the uniforms back to Shao Su and the horses to the Lei house.  The four others carry the palanquin away.  Mo Jiang returns a little later.  The other three have gone on to the Third Prince’s mansion to join the fighting force.  They’ll let everyone know of our change of plan and the reason for it.

“We did it!” I say to Mo Jiang when he reappears. 

“Yes, we did it.  How’s Young Lady Li?’

“No news yet.”  I’m suddenly feeling very down, the usual reaction after a successful but dangerous exploit. 

Mo Jiang sits next to me.  “Well, we’ve done our bit.  It’s all up to the Commander now.”

I’m suddenly seized with terrible worry, a reaction to overstretched nerves.  I stand up.  “I’m going to the Pavilion.  They’ll get the news first.  I’ve got to know what’s going on.”

“Shall I come with you?”

“No, it’s all right, thanks, the streets are quiet.  I’ll just tell Liang Zhou and find out what the situation is here.”

Liang Zhou’s reassuringly calm.  “She’s doing as well as can be expected.  The imprisonment has affected her health, of course, but she’s young and there don’t seem to be any complications.  But I don’t expect anything will happen till at least the morning.”

“Does it take that long?” I ask, surprised, and he smiles at my ignorance.  I go on, “I haven’t told her that Shan’s still alive.  I thought she mightn’t be able to cope.  Will you do it, if the opportunity comes up?”

“Of course.  Jinhai, it’s getting late.  Stay over at the Pavilion.  Don’t come back unless you have to.”

I nod.  “See you in the morning.”

I get to the back door of the Pavilion at three hours after sunset.  Shan’s mission must be in full swing.  The porter lets me in with the usual grunt of recognition.  In the big warm kitchen, Yuan Song’s messenger-children are sleeping on mattresses on the floor.  I go through to Yuan Song’s courtyard and find him walking restlessly in the garden.  He turns quickly when he hears my footsteps, takes two strides towards me and halts.  “How did it go?” he demands.

He shakes his head in disbelief when I tell him what’s happened.  “Pregnant?  We certainly weren’t expecting that.  And the Abbess is your aunt?”

“Something unexpected always crops up.  Any news from the Third Prince’s side?”

“Nothing yet.  It may be a while.  Come and have something to drink.  Have you eaten?”

I haven’t even thought about eating, but now I realize I’m starving.  Yuan Song issues rapid orders.  Food and wine appear.  We sit and eat.

“It’s so quiet,” I say, listening, “Are there a lot of customers in tonight?”

“A handful.  The Emperor’s giving a banquet, so all the important people are at the Palace.”

“I wish it were all over.  I hate this uncertainty.”

“We’ll know more in the morning,” he says.  “Try and get some sleep.  I don’t suppose you’ve had much over the past couple of days.  I’ve told the servants to bring the bath-water.”

Lying in the hot water, I suddenly realize how tired I am.  I can barely drag myself out.  Wrapping myself in the drying cloths, I collapse onto the bed and roll myself up in the quilt.  I’m asleep almost immediately.  Later I’m disturbed by faint shouts and dreams of people galloping through the streets.  I come drowsily awake to find that the sounds are real.  There's a commotion in the city.  Suddenly alert, I throw on a robe and run out.  Yuan Song doesn’t seem to have slept.  He’s standing listening.  Dawn’s breaking.  A confused rumour of sound is coming from outside the walls.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart pounding.  ‘”Is it the army?  Have they come?”