My Fair Concubine

chapter Twenty-One



Why wasn’t Fei Long practising? Yan Ling tracked his comings and goings for the next two days, becoming an incessant nuisance to the servants whenever she needed information. He had left the house once to go to the herbalist’s shop and another time to drink tea alone at a quiet establishment in the corner of the East Market. Drinking tea by himself and brooding exactly like when she’d first met him.

Fei Long hadn’t made another trip to the practice range. His bow hadn’t left his room.

‘He’s given up,’ she lamented to Bai Shen.

The handsome actor stood on one side of the front gate while she stayed on the other.

‘There’s nothing to worry about. You haven’t seen Fei Long with a bow in his hands,’ he bragged.

‘You don’t understand. I have seen Fei Long try to shoot. Do something, Bai Shen. Please.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t know. Anything.’

She tried to talk to Fei Long directly, but Dao had become a diligent chaperon. The servant girl was quite skilled at redirection and obstruction. There was not one moment when Yan Ling was left alone with the master of the house.

* * *

On the morning of the contest, the entire household rose early from their beds. Yan Ling was relieved when Fei Long appeared in the courtyard. He wore solid black that day without adornment. His bow was slung over his shoulder.

She rushed to him. ‘Good luck today. May every arrow hit its target.’

It took a moment for him to focus on her. ‘Thank you, Yan.’

‘I thought you were taking a lighter bow.’

Fei Long had brought the exact same one she’d seen him practise with that ill-fated morning. He glanced over his shoulder as if just realising it was there. ‘I realised that would be admitting defeat.’

He sounded so grave and serious with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a thousand thoughts in his head. He was being stubborn, considering he tired too quickly with that bow, but she admired his courage. Pride bubbled within her, and then another, unnameable emotion took root.

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

‘I wish I could come and watch,’ she said, barely keeping her voice from trembling with this new discovery. He was so determined and unwavering and she loved him for it. The thought settled into her chest and grew until there wasn’t enough room inside her. She loved him.

‘We don’t know who will be there,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want Zōu seeing you or Dao and getting any ideas.’

Fei Long always worried over the welfare of others before himself.

She placed a red scarf across his palm. Making sure Dao was nowhere in sight, she squeezed his hand once only. It ached to look at him with so much hope and fear in her heart. ‘You’ll do well today.’

He forced a smiled for her benefit. It was a painful thing to watch. She smiled back, equally pained. With a final nod, he straightened his shoulders and headed out to the competition.

As soon as he was gone, Dao came out from her room, wearing a plain grey tunic and trousers. She stopped to tuck her hair into the wool cap. ‘Do I look like a stable boy?’

Yan Ling looked her over, head to toe. Her gaze stayed on the toe part. Dao followed her line of sight downwards.

‘Oh.’ Dao wiggled her feet within the pink embroidered slippers.

* * *

Bai Shen intercepted Fei Long at the end of the street and they ducked into a side alley. Without a word, Bai Shen took the quiver of arrows from him to lighten Fei Long’s load and strapped it onto his back. The archery contest was located at the second-largest park in the city and was a short walk on foot. Fei Long had decided to leave before the Dragon Hour so he could get in position before the crowds gathered.

‘Your opponent is some young hellion. They say he’s a prodigy with a bow and arrow,’ Bai Shen reported.

Much like they used to say about him.

‘What else?’

‘He’s won several small wagers. In the last Great Shoot he made it to the final three rounds, but that’s nothing. You’ve won the whole thing.’

‘I never won,’ Fei Long corrected. ‘And past tournaments don’t matter. Only today matters.’

‘Right…here, drink this.’ Bai Shen held out a flask. ‘Same thing we drank five years ago before the tournament.’

Fei Long scowled. ‘Actors and your superstitions.’

‘Yan Ling said she was worried about you.’

‘When did you speak to Yan Ling?’

‘She told me to do something to help you.’ Bai Shen gave the flask a few shakes. ‘This might loosen the muscles up a bit.’

Fei Long kept on walking. ‘This is a bad idea.’

He hadn’t had wine in years and he certainly didn’t want to combine liquor with the herbal remedy he’d taken to dull the pain. Yet after a few paces, Fei Long stopped and held out his hand. Bai Shen pulled the cork and took a swig first before handing it over. Fei Long lifted the flask in a quick toast before tipping it over and spilling his portion onto the ground.

‘Wait! That’s good stuff.’

Fei Long handed the liquor back. The symbolic gesture would have to do.

They continued towards the park. He could already hear the hum of the crowd beyond the walls of the alleyway and they stopped just short of the end. Fei Long unwound the red scarf from his hand to tie it around the lower half from his face.

‘Brilliant.’ Bai Shen laughed. ‘The crowd will love that. By the way, if you don’t do something intelligent about Yan Ling once this is over, I’ve decided I’m going to steal her away from you.’

Fei Long glared. ‘How is that information supposed to help me?’

‘I just thought I should warn you. She’s not usually the sort I fancy, but people can change.’

‘Enough, Bai Shen.’

‘We can’t go exiling all our pretty women to foreign lands. It’s a crime against the empire.’

‘Enough.’

They’d reached the entrance into the street. Bai Shen exhaled, then alternatively flexed and relaxed his hands as if preparing for a theatre performance. Fei Long supposed this was much the same—a grand show for the masses.

They stepped into the intersection and faced the crowd gathered at the park entrance. News of their arrival travelled in a wave as soon as they saw the bow in his hands. A cheer went up and all eyes clamped onto him. Money and paper markers changed hands rapidly.

Fei Long looked straight ahead and kept on walking. Bai Shen did his part to clear the way, his tenor voice carrying clear through the crowd. ‘Move aside! Move aside!’

There were noblemen and merchants alike among the spectators. The city guards were gathered to keep the peace, but they were just as interested as everyone else in the match. The crowd was smaller, yet rowdier than it had been five years ago for the Great Shoot. That event had been sanctioned by the Emperor. This one was instigated by two gambling-den lords posing as self-made gentlemen.

Two canopies were set up on either side of the green. Zōu reclined beneath the one on the far end, attended by his concubines and bodyguards. The rival lord was settled opposite him under the shade of his own canopy, surrounded by his own escort.

Further down the line another tent had been set up. He recognised Minister Cao right away. Tong was with him, as well as several other ranking officials. Fei Long ducked away involuntarily, though his face was covered.

The other competitor arrived just behind him. Bai Shen was right. Here was a young man, pale-faced, with an intense energy in his eyes. For Fei Long, it was like looking at his own reflection. Not in appearance, but in spirit. He nodded once at the other bowman. The courtesy was not returned. His opponent was occupied with sizing him up.

Fei Long stared across the grass at his first sight of the field.

‘The legendary Houyi,’ Bai Shen said beneath his breath.

‘And the Ten Suns,’ Fei Long finished.

There were ten straw targets, painted in gold and set out at varying distances. The final target was elevated and stood at the far end of the park, only visible as a tiny globe representing the tenth and surviving Sun.

A public crier began reciting the rules. Ten arrows each. They’d shoot in two rounds, first at the five closest targets, then the five furthest. Fei Long would have rather done it the other way around. Take out the far targets while his body was still rested. They would only be allowed to shoot once at each target so there was no change for adjusting after a miss.

A toss of the die decided that Fei Long would shoot second. He watched his opponent walk into the field and take aim. His stance was strong, balanced. Fei Long didn’t need to watch the arrow to know it would hit its mark. Five arrows flew in quick succession. Five arrows hit centre. The beauty of it had to be appreciated, even by someone who had never held a bow. There was undeniable harmony in perfection.

‘There’s still time to take a drink,’ Bai Shen offered.

The wagering increased to a palpable level. Fei Long shook his head, barely hearing Bai Shen or the rest of the crowd. Were the odds for him or against him? It didn’t matter.

He took the quiver back from Bai Shen and strapped it on. Then he took his time approaching the target line, listening to each individual beat of his heart, feeling the rush of blood pumping through him.

Archery was supposed to be a practice of skill and precision. Of focus and technique. Yet the most experienced archers also knew that minute details could cause arrow after arrow to veer astray. If your aim was off by a hair that day, there was nothing that could be done to fix it. There was something more than cold, clean technique to it, otherwise bowmen wouldn’t need to pray to patron gods.

The sun was rising steadily, heating his back. Fei Long reached over his shoulder and took an arrow from his quiver. Carved from mulberry, it was light and balanced. He nocked it against the string and straightened, pulling his right arm back. The bowstring grew taut as it stretched, the tension and force gathering.

A hundred things had to be aligned for the arrow to hit its mark, but Fei Long knew them without thinking. He sighted the first target through the line of the bow, listened to his heart, slowed his breathing. The world receded around him. He exhaled steadily and released in the stillness between heartbeats.

* * *

Yan Ling dug her nails against the wooden rail. Beside her Dao held her breath.

Bai Shen had procured them a second-floor balcony in a drinking house that overlooked the park. A prime location considering the event that day. From where she stood, Fei Long was a black figure down below. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could see the tension in his stance.

She prayed for him as he pulled back. He seemed to hold on for an uncommonly long time. The first archer had pulled back and released in one uninterrupted motion, without hesitation. She didn’t know if it was hesitation that made Fei Long pause. He stood unmoving, arrow poised. Wouldn’t he weaken the longer he remained that way?

When Fei Long released, a gasp escaped from her lips. She squinted at the target.

The arrow had hit home. One.

The next one flew shortly after. Then another and another. She couldn’t follow them.

‘Is he even aiming?’ she cried.

‘Yes!’ Dao grabbed her shoulder and shook her happily. ‘Five out of five. I told you so! Not an arrow wasted.’

She caught how Fei Long paused after the last arrow. He leaned slightly to one side before straightening and retreating from the line. In the practice session, he’d started struggling after only five arrows. She couldn’t be sure, but these targets seemed further. Even the first five were a challenge.

The next round was beginning. Yan Ling held on to the rail to keep from falling as she leaned forwards to watch.

* * *

‘He’s good,’ Fei Long said.

He stood side by side with Bai Shen as they watched his opponent shoot in the second round. The young man exuded confidence and his technique was impeccable.

‘Not as good as you,’ Bai Shen protested.

The archer’s head twitched as if he’d heard Bai Shen, but he kept his eyes on the target. He’d hit the two suns on the far left side. There were two more arranged to the right. Each one was a good two hundred bu away. Just within the range of an infantry bowman. Fei Long could see the strain in his opponent’s body as he pulled the string.

The young man was slightly smaller than he, so Fei Long had a strength advantage, but nominal only. Streaks of pain radiated from his side after only the first five shots.

The third arrow hit centre and the crowd cheered with excitement. More markers flew from hand to hand. People would be betting on each shot as well as the overall competition. His father had explained the intricacies of such wagering to him once. It was knowledge he hadn’t found any use for.

His opponent took a moment to wipe sweat away from his brow. The fourth target was the furthest one yet. The young man pulled back as far as he could and released. The crowd groaned as the arrow flew wide.

‘Disaster!’ Bai Shen proclaimed.

Fei Long shushed him. ‘Don’t heckle.’

‘He can’t hear us.’

That was eight out of ten targets with the last one still to go. The final sun was an obscene length away; nearly an entire li. Fei Long tried to gauge the distance. Had he ever shot an arrow that far?

The rival archer was doing the same. He stood with his shoulder pointed to the tenth target for a long time. Finally, his expression hardened with resolve. He pulled the bow back so far that the wood strained against the string. At any moment something would snap: the string or the bow or the

archer himself. He let go and the sigh of the release sounded like the blow of an axe. Fei Long’s intention wrapped around the arrow as it soared, slicing through the air, flying true. Never mind that this was his opponent’s shot. The technique of it deserved to hit centre.

The arrow fell just short. A sigh went through the crowd, followed by more chatter. Despite the miss, his opponent had done very well overall.

‘Your turn—show him how it’s done.’

Fei Long walked towards the line again, sinking deep within himself to conjure up the legendary match from five years ago. If only he could conjure up himself as he’d been that day. Fei Long had known the moment the shoot was over that he would never hit that well again. It had been one day in a thousand days. His mind had been clear, his body strong. The world was his for the taking.

Today his mind was anything but clear. He thought of Zōu and his smug look. The two million cash in debt hanging over his head. He thought of the family home where he and his sister were born. If he sold it and moved away, Pearl would never know where to find them. And he thought of Yan Ling.

More than once, she’d pulled him away from the brink of ruin because she was stubborn, where he was patient. She was impetuous, where he was forbearing. He believed everyone should fulfil his duty. She believed that everyone should go one better.

‘Houyi!’

It took him a moment to realise that Bai Shen was yelling at him.

‘They’re going to disqualify you if you don’t shoot.’

Fei Long lifted an arrow. He was just setting his eyes on the target, that was all.

He aimed and fired. Just like his opponent, he took the two targets on the right with ease. The wound had started to throb, pulsing at his side as a reminder of weakness. He sucked in a breath and pulled through the pain to claim the next target.

The fourth one was a challenge. He took his time centring it in his sight. His aim was steady. He timed his breathing, slowed his heartbeat. The moment he released, a sharp twinge made him double over. The arrow flew foul, with no grace to speak of as it loped into the grass.

The crowd groaned, jeered, swore. The bookies went mad. New odds were frantically cast, all while Fei Long clutched at his side and gulped in air. Off to the side, the Bull looked like he was ready to snort with rage. If Fei Long had been in a speaking mood, he would have told Zōu something about karma.

Bai Shen came to kneel beside him. His eyebrows raised sharply with concern as he put a hand on Fei Long’s shoulder. ‘Do you need to rest? I can try to delay them.’

‘No.’ Fei Long rose slowly. ‘No, let’s do this now.’

The pain would only get worse. He took his stance and faced off against the tenth Sun. Bai Shen backed away and the crowd hushed once again, all bets final.

Eight out of ten. He was at a draw, but for him that was the same as a loss. The terms were that he needed to win.

He’d seen how the other archer had performed on this target. His arrow had flown straight, propelled with all his strength, but it had fallen short. Fei Long couldn’t pull much harder, not with his body in agony.

In the legend of Houyi, the tenth Sun was the one that remained. Zōu and his crony had placed the last target far enough to taunt them. It wasn’t meant to be attainable. Not with this bow and his strength on this day, but he couldn’t give up yet.

Fei Long sighted the target and pulled back as far as he could, bending the bow until the wood creaked. Every muscle within him strained. His ribs screamed, but he could endure it for a single release. He had no other choice. If he shot straight, absolutely straight, and the arrow was blessed by wind and air—

He paused, lowering the bow and releasing the tension with the arrow still in place. He’d shot this far before in infantry drills, but it wasn’t precision shooting. The purpose of the infantry was to let loose a rain of arrows.

All instinct left him in the wake of the pain. He tried to push the ache to the back of his mind, tried to draw forth the training and knowledge within him. The tenth Sun mocked him across the field as he reassessed the distance. The mask around his face became unbearably hot and stifling.

Fei Long straightened and sighted again. With a silent tribute to Houyi, he angled the bow upwards and let the arrow fly.