The Dragon and the Pearl

Chapter Five



As soon as Li Tao freed her, she fled from the room and stumbled through the corridor. She could still feel the bruising pressure of his hands pinning her, holding her captive.

Auntie waited at the end of the corridor, her expression twisted with worry.

‘Lady Ling?’

Suyin tore past the old woman and left the servants in the entrance hall.

‘My lady, what happened?’

Auntie insisted on following her into the garden. Struggling for breath, Suyin sank on to one of the flattened boulders lying in the soft grass. She needed to escape from here. Her captor was not only ruthless, he was likely mad.

‘Unfavourable day, indeed,’ Suyin snapped. ‘You knew what would happen, didn’t you?’

The old woman stood several steps away, her hands clasped before her demurely. Suyin clutched at the smooth stone below her, trying to steady the pounding of her heart. It always came to this, a knife at her throat, men coming to silence her. When she’d left the palace, she had vowed that she would no longer be used in the schemes of powerful men. She had been brought here by someone’s design, she was certain of it.

‘Auntie was hoping the lady could convince Master Li.’

‘Convince him of what?’

The old woman shrank back at her anger, but Suyin couldn’t find it within her to feel any remorse. Li Tao had held a blade to her. He had never directly threatened her with it, but that didn’t matter. What frightened her even more was what had happened afterwards. She had fought to keep herself safe from men like him all her life, only to be drawn to Li Tao despite every survival instinct within her. They called it the seduction of power. She hadn’t fully believed in it until now.

‘What could I possibly convince him to do?’ She raised herself to her feet. ‘I am a prisoner, brought here against my will.’

A commotion rose from the depths of the front hall. The sound of Li Tao’s strident voice resonated against the walls followed by the stamp of his footsteps. She was relieved to have some distance between them as he left.

‘Master Li is a good man.’ Auntie ventured forwards to grasp her sleeve. ‘You are the only one he will listen to.’

‘He listens to no one.’

‘That is not true! Master spends more time here now. He enquires about your welfare constantly.’

He had asked Auntie about her? Most likely he was trying to discover her secrets.

Suyin pulled away in agitation. ‘If he didn’t make everyone out to be an enemy, he wouldn’t need to live in constant fear.’

She didn’t realise the truth of it until she spoke the words aloud. Li Tao had been afraid, as she was afraid. It was apparent that Auntie worried for him as well. Auntie trusted her and she needed to find a way to use that to her advantage. It was her best chance for escape.

‘Auntie, the governor speaks constantly of defiance and rebellion.’ She lowered her tone cautiously. ‘I’m afraid it will destroy him.’

‘Master is not a traitor. He’s a good man.’

Suyin watched guiltily as tears gathered in the old woman’s eyes.

‘The box is a warning, isn’t it?’ Suyin asked.

Auntie started to respond, but then clamped her mouth shut and glanced furtively towards the house.

‘Governor Li is gone,’ Suyin assured. ‘What does the box mean? Has your master ever mentioned an old man?’

Li Tao had interrogated her about an old man, Lao Sou, when he’d had her pinned.

‘Old man? Cook is old…’

Suyin sighed impatiently. ‘Not Cook.’

‘The box is a reminder.’ Auntie whispered even though the others were too far away to hear. ‘Master doesn’t think I know, but Auntie remembers everything. Once it was a sign of favour. Now it is a warning.’

‘Favour?’

‘From the August Emperor.’

‘The August Emperor is dead. He has been dead for two years.’

‘I know that!’ Auntie snapped. The old woman wasn’t completely intimidated. ‘The Emperor would send Master Li a gift every year in honour of his service. Since his death, someone else must be sending the gift to remind him of his loyalty to the empire.’

Suyin bit back her cynical response. It was either Gao or some other rival who was sending the dagger to provoke Li Tao, but Auntie would think the best of him no matter what the circumstances.

She needed to bend Auntie’s fear and loyalty to her advantage. She took hold of Auntie’s thinning shoulders and spoke in a grave tone.

‘Li Tao has refused to swear loyalty to the throne. How long before Emperor Shen publicly denounces him?’

Auntie paled, but she could only nod in agreement. If Auntie knew about the armies and the barricades, then she must know that Li Tao’s days were numbered.

‘The lady must convince him to reconsider. He hangs on your every word. He is so taken with you that he is afraid to blink when you are near for fear of losing sight of you.’

If only some measure of her reputation were true. Men didn’t fall at her feet in adoration as the stories claimed. It was all careful observation and planning. And Li Tao was endlessly unpredictable, more so than anyone she had ever met. He wanted nothing from her but one night. A conquest. Very far from being in her thrall.

‘Your master’s pride will not allow it,’ Suyin argued. ‘But I may have some sway with Emperor Shen.’

Auntie’s eyes brightened with hope, never questioning the lie. Former consorts had no power at all, especially after the scandals and rebellions that had followed the August Emperor’s death. She had been fortunate that Emperor Shen had allowed her to leave the palace with her freedom and her life.

‘If I can send a letter to Changan, I will speak on your master’s behalf,’ she pressed.

‘But who will deliver the message?’

Her gaze shifted to Ru Shan at the other end of the garden. Li Tao had chosen an honourable man to guard her, but such honour could be adapted to her advantage. Auntie would go along, as well. The dear old woman cared for Li Tao. No one had ever fought so hard to save her. She had always been on her own, even while supposedly under the August Emperor’s protection.

The imperial court had forgotten she had ever existed. But the Emperor Shen was a just ruler. When he found out that Li Tao had taken her, he would demand her return. She would be gone from this house before Li Tao’s many enemies closed in on him.

When they returned to the house, the plan was already in place. Auntie herded the servants away before beckoning Suyin down the corridor. Ru Shan followed silently behind. He was easy to turn to their cause. Protecting a defenceless woman against a warlord appealed to his warrior’s code.

Needles of guilt pricked at her heart. It had been too easy for her to manipulate an old woman’s trust and a soldier’s loyalty to her advantage. She was nothing but lies wrapped upon lies and she always had been. She had no choice. No one could save Li Tao. He had already declared his fate by defying the throne. Still, she hoped she would be released without bloodshed. Li Tao wouldn’t risk his position to keep her captive. And when she was free, perhaps she would be able to speak on his behalf.

What did she care what became of Li Tao. Already she was losing her sense of purpose. She needed to concentrate.

Auntie padded hurriedly down the hall, stopping before a set of doors opposite the bedchamber. Even while Li Tao was gone, his foreboding presence lingered.

‘No one is allowed inside the master’s study,’ Auntie told her as she slipped a key into the door. ‘Be quick!’

Li Tao trusted Auntie and no one else. It made her wonder about the true relationship between the two of them.

Auntie pushed the door open, but would not enter. She poked her head inside to search about as if fearing Li Tao might have returned. When she was satisfied, she waved Suyin in.

‘Master remembers where he puts everything,’ Auntie warned before shutting her inside.

The wooden desk was arranged below an aperture in the roof to allow for light. Suyin hurried to the desk and peeled a blank sheet of paper free from the stack and folded it into her sleeve. She hoped he didn’t go so far as to count them. A spare ink stick and brush quickly followed. They would need to return these items to their exact locations. She couldn’t resist a quick scan of the desk, but Li Tao had left no communications in sight.

She turned to go, but curiosity overwhelmed her like an insistent itch. The study was as simple and austere as the rest of the house, the walls were bare. How could Li Tao stand to stare at blank walls day after day? Did he do nothing but plan his battles?

A single cabinet spanned the far wall next to a shelf of books. There had to be something inside that would give her a hint of who Li Tao was. Even though she would soon be gone, she needed to know.

In case there was some way to use the information, she told herself.

Like Auntie, she looked once more over her shoulder, searching the corners of the room with unreasonable caution. She imagined Li Tao sitting alone in the dark at his desk with a single lamp burning beside him.

Be assured of your success and you cannot fail. Madame from the pleasure quarters used to say that. Suyin said it to herself now.

She pulled on the handle and found the cabinet unlocked. The oiled hinges swung wide to reveal a set of identical daggers to the one in the box. The blades were crafted from blackened steel and they fanned out against the inner wall in a grand display. She held her breath as she counted them. There were fifteen.



By the next morning, Suyin feared that Auntie would worry her fingers to the bone with how often she wrung them together. Suyin sat her down and poured the tea for both of them.

‘Auntie does not look well,’ she suggested mildly.

‘The lady is kind, but Auntie is fine—’

‘Perhaps Auntie should stay in bed for the day,’ she interrupted pointedly. ‘Let someone else tend to the governor.’

Li Tao would hear Auntie’s nervous rambling and know immediately that something was out of place. Suyin’s plan was already in motion and all she had to do was wait. Hopefully Auntie’s ability to present a good face would strengthen with time.

Auntie spilled her tea over the table when a knock sounded on the door. Suyin left Auntie to answer it herself.

Jun stood in the hallway, averting his eyes from her face. Her heart went out to the boy when she saw how he tried to hide his withered arm, angling his left side away.

‘Master Li wishes to see you. He is in the garden,’ Jun said shyly.

She breathed with relief. They would be outside in full view of the servants. After the way Li Tao had threatened her, she couldn’t risk being trapped alone with him. Auntie stood back in the sitting area, her forehead creased in a nest of lines. This was how honest people reacted to deception. She gave Auntie a reassuring nod before stepping outside.

Jun fell into step behind her. He was tall with the lanky awkwardness of youth. From what she could see, Li Tao provided for his servants, yet Jun retained a lean wiriness that came from a childhood of scarcity. She had seen it in her village and in the streets of Luoyang.

‘How long have you served the governor?’ she asked.

She strained to hear his mumbled answer.

‘Eight years, Lady Ling.’

Li Tao presented a confusing picture. He was an efficient military governor. His men were disciplined and loyal, and he was known for promoting men through the ranks based on skill rather than social standing, much like the August Emperor. Yet the warlord surrounded himself with such an incongruous crew of servants.

‘Where did you live before?’ she asked to distract herself as they descended the stairs to the second courtyard.

‘At a monastery…an orphanage,’ Jun corrected himself. ‘Auntie asked for Master Li to take me in.’

‘That was generous of him.’ So he was capable of kindness. He also seemed to be obliging and respectful of Auntie.

Jun stopped abruptly at the edge of the courtyard. ‘Lady Ling?’

‘Yes?’

He bowed his head. ‘You are very beautiful.’

Despite her jaded nature, his sincerity warmed her. This unassuming boy, innocent and hopeful, expected nothing in return for his flattery.

‘Thank you for your kind words, Master Jun,’ she said with a smile.

He blushed furiously at that and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the walk to the garden.

They emerged through the circled archway and her attention centred on to Li Tao. He stood beneath the shade of the cedarwood pavilion. Stood rather than sat. He never paced, never made any unnecessary movements. He turned and studied her as she approached. His feral side was held in restraint; at least she hoped so. Her pulse quickened. ‘Lady Ling.’

He invited her to sit with an outstretched hand, but she stopped short of the pavilion and refused to come any closer. Jun stood by her side, looking confused.

‘It is difficult to be gracious when you held a knife to me the last time we met.’

Li Tao’s steely expression transformed into a frown. He dismissed Jun with a wave of his hand and the boy backed away, kneeling to some task behind the shrubbery.

‘I frightened you,’ Li Tao said. ‘I apologise. Please sit.’

His façade of civility didn’t reassure her. She ascended the wooden steps into the pavilion and noticed the faint shadow over his jaw as she glanced up at him. He looked unkempt, as if he’d just come from the road. She moved past him to take her seat on the stone bench.

It wasn’t only fear that caused her heart to race. His nearness stirred her blood, urging her to tempt fate. That made him more dangerous than Gao and all of the other interlopers who had ever plotted against her. When he seated himself across the table, she was grateful for the barrier between them.

‘Ru Shan is away,’ he said. ‘I will need to assign another guardsman to your care.’

She smoothed out her sleeves and folded her hands together on the surface of the table, using the casual gesture to mask her nervousness. She knew exactly why Ru Shan was away. He had used the ruse of visiting his ailing father.

‘Are you afraid I’ll escape, Governor Li? I would lose myself in this bamboo sea before I found the road.’

‘You shouldn’t be left alone. Not after what happened.’

What happened? ‘I wasn’t in any danger from anyone besides you.’

He didn’t answer for a long stretch; she was afraid she’d been too bold.

‘Accept a peace offering, then,’ he said finally.

He lifted a bundle wrapped in canvas on to the table. She stared at him in surprise as he beckoned for her to open it. Theirs was the oddest of acquaintances. She couldn’t decipher what Li Tao was to her. Adversary, protector, companion. Madman.

Perhaps she was mad as well. Why else would she be tempted to accept the tainted protection he offered? She could hide away in the cover of the bamboo forest.

Her message to the Emperor was already travelling toward the capital. Even if Li Tao wasn’t so unpredictable, she couldn’t stay. When Emperor Shen came for him, she could be implicated as a co-conspirator even though she had been brought there against her will. Or worse, they would come with swords and arrows with no pause to sort out who was who.

She reached for the bindings, but hesitated, remembering another package she’d opened in his presence.

‘It’s not a trap,’ he replied when she looked to him.

The image of the fifteen daggers haunted her. She was afraid to ask about the strange delivery, as if the mystery would hold her captive if she uncovered it.

She untied the knots while Li Tao leaned back to watch her. His offering was somewhat awkward given the circumstances, yet oddly earnest because of it. The canvas peeled away to reveal a lacquered case inlaid with abalone shell. She gasped when she lifted the lid and saw the musical instrument inside. The arrangement of the silk strings over wooden bridges sent a flutter of delight through her. She’d left her qin by the river with the rest of her abandoned belongings.

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘The instrument maker told me this was his finest work,’ Li Tao said. ‘But I have no eye for such things.’

She ran her fingers over the polished surface board, teasing the strings. The clear notes rose in the air with a sense of freedom.

‘You’re glowing.’ His tone held its own hint of pleasure.

She looked to him and wished that she hadn’t seen the quiet satisfaction in his eyes. He was focused on her. Always on her.

‘Did you ever hear me play, Governor?’

‘I never had that honour.’

‘Madame Ling taught me. She taught me everything.’ She lifted the instrument from its case and set it carefully on to the carved legs. ‘In Luoyang, I would play in the front room for an hour each night,’ she said, bubbling with excitement as she adjusted the tuning knobs. ‘Only one hour, nothing more. I would close my eyes and play and all of those men would fall madly in love with me.’

His mouth curved the tiniest bit upwards. ‘Every single one?’

‘Every single one.’

In the entertainment district of Luoyang, she would sit behind a sheer curtain to build an aura of mystery. Wealthy patrons struggled to catch a glimpse of her through the gauze. Some would offer to pay for just a look.

Unless the offer was exorbitantly high, Madame usually refused, laughing at her own cleverness. ‘The picture of you they have formed in their minds is more beautiful than you could ever be.’

Her parents had forfeited her in name and body, thinking she would be betrothed to some merchant. They hadn’t known the well-dressed servants were actually kidnappers who supplied the entertainment quarters. Her den mother, Madame Ling, had given her the surname that would later become known throughout the empire.

Li Tao settled comfortably in his seat as she positioned her fingers over the strings. Suyin attached the ivory guards over her fingers and plucked out three notes, letting herself sink into the sound and vibration.

‘What song would you like to hear?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know any.’

The way he watched her made her heart ache with anticipation. He folded his hands before him, his demeanor relaxed and indulgent for once. The intimacy of the moment struck her—to be playing for him for pleasure with nothing between them. No curtain and none of the artifice of Luoyang.

Except there would always be deception between them. She was plotting her escape and he was looking for some way to use her.

‘You’ll like this one,’ she promised. She looked down to the strings as if that was enough hide the lies. ‘It’s about a battle.’



Lady Ling had the most exquisite hands. They moved in waves over the strings, one hand pulling at the silk strings to test them, the other adjusting the wooden bridges. The scattered notes floated through the air, not yet forming music. Her expression took on a tranquil look. She tilted her head to listen to nuances of tone that were beyond his ears. Maybe that was how she read people so well, catching the subtle meanings hidden in voice and inflection.

Finally she straightened her shoulders and poised her fingers over the span of the strings. She inhaled, gathering herself, and began to play.

The legend was that Ling Guifei had charmed the August Emperor with her music. She commanded the universe when she played, the trees and the stars. That part was poetic nonsense, but the music pulled at him inside and out. The rhythm sent his blood rushing through his veins.

She played with her eyes closed. He closed his own eyes, joining her in the darkness. She had said the song depicted a battle, but nothing of the sort came to mind, no lofty images of horses and banners waving or battalions clashing over hills. Only darkness and a pure sound that filled him, creeping into spaces he hadn’t known were empty.

Desire flooded his body, the dull throb building to an acute pain that would not let go. His hand tightened on the arm of the chair.

Ling Suyin was exactly the sort of person Lao Sou would have recruited: talented, resourceful and cunning. He wanted her regardless—the warmth of her skin, the reluctant willingness of her mouth. He even wanted her detachment and her defiance. Would the Old Man have predicted that as well?

As the final notes struck, he opened his eyes.

‘Did you enjoy it?’ She played on. The second song flowed over his mind like cool water, but did nothing to ease the ache in his body.

‘You play well.’

‘Such ardent praise,’ she reprimanded lightly. Her fingers continued to walk along the strings gently.

‘Don’t you tire of compliments? Look at Jun over there. He won’t blink for fear of losing the sight of you.’

She laughed and the sound puffed up his chest. At the other end of the courtyard, Jun slinked further behind the shrubbery, realising he had been caught. Li Tao couldn’t fault the boy. Greater men had found themselves helpless at this woman’s feet. The music lulled him into the first sense of peace he had allowed himself in long time. He wanted to sink into the dream and accept where it took him.

‘Where do you go every day?’ she asked in a tone of disinterest.

‘Nowhere you would find entertaining.’

This must be how she was able to pry secrets from the most powerful men in the empire. He had no skill for filling silence with conversation, but he found himself wanting to do so. To reciprocate the moment she had created.

‘I received another imperial summons to appear before Emperor Shen in Changan,’ he stated. Nothing secret about that, it being an imperial proclamation.

The gentle music faltered before continuing. The notes took on a hint of shrillness beneath the soft warmth.

‘Then you must go and make peace with Emperor Shen.’ Suyin stared down at the instrument.

Was that concern he detected?

‘Once they have me in Changan, it’ll be the death of me.’

‘If you don’t go, they’ll hang you as a traitor.’

‘They behead traitors, Ling Guifei,’ he replied mildly.

She flattened the strings with her hand to stop the sound. ‘Why do you insist on calling me that?’

‘To remind myself that you are not mine.’

Silence hung between them.

‘But you don’t want me,’ she said, her tone cutting. ‘Other than for one night.’

‘One night can last a very long time.’

The blush in her cheeks caught him off guard. He had assumed such flirtation was second nature to a seasoned courtesan.

‘I don’t wish to see you hanged…or beheaded.’

‘Not without a fight,’ he promised.

‘War and death. That’s all men like you know.’ She pushed the instrument aside and sank back as if it no longer held any joy for her.

‘This summons is an ambush. The imperial court has all the power in Changan. I’ll face whoever comes for me here, on my own terms.’

Suyin fell silent. She tapped her fingertips thoughtfully against the tabletop as she struggled with her next words.

‘Please reconsider,’ she said finally.

‘There’s nothing to consider. Gao has the court in his palm,’ he said.

She made an impatient sound. ‘I told Auntie you wouldn’t listen to anyone.’

That left them at a standstill, staring at each other across the field of battle. But she wasn’t quite the enemy. He traced the shape of her mouth and the curve of her throat. Suyin’s breathing quickened in response. No one else dared to suggest that he back down. Certainly no one had counselled him regarding his own welfare.

She was beautiful.

She was complicated.

There wasn’t a thread of trust between them, yet he still wanted her. Discipline and caution meant nothing when she was near.

‘Tell me one thing,’ she said. ‘What does the dagger mean?’

‘It’s a reminder.’

‘Of what?’

‘Shibao.’

‘The siege against Tibet.’

Of course she knew the history. She had been Emperor Li Ming’s consort for fifteen years. She’d shared the sovereign’s bed. Resentment flowed like poison through Li Tao’s veins. Jealous of a dead man. There wasn’t a more worthless emotion.

‘One of the worst defeats of the empire,’ he said.

‘But you were commended for your bravery. Everyone knew your name after that battle.’

‘It was undeserved.’ He wasn’t being humble. If she meant to appeal to his sense of honour and duty, it didn’t exist. ‘In the end, all debts must be paid. The message of the dagger is that no one can be careful for ever.’

If only she knew the truth behind the legends. He was no hero. He was tempted to tell her everything, but with the old empire falling to ruin around them, it made no difference any longer.