As I meet his eyes, noting how very close we are, I think, No, we are not children.
He seems to be thinking the same thing, and a flush fills his cheeks. Quickly, he boosts me up again, holding me by my ankles so that I can reach higher. Resolutely, I push aside thoughts of the way his arms felt or how the lingering scent of sandalwood still clings to him. My fingers make contact with a limb, and from there I’m at last able to swing myself up and begin scaling the rest of the tree’s branches. They’re small and thin, but I find enough that can support me until I reach the fruit at the very top.
Up close, I see it’s almost at the end of its season and starting to wither. I pluck one and sniff, grinning when I recognize persimmon. It’s a rare treat in our village, occasionally given to us chopped up with other food. I glance down at Li Wei, who is watching me anxiously.
Be careful, he signs. We didn’t just survive a lethal mountain climb only to have you fall from a fruit tree.
By way of answer, I toss the persimmon down to him and then begin picking all the rest. There are about a dozen total, and when I’ve thrown them all down, I climb back, feeling a bit of pride that I’m able to swing off the last branch and land without his help.
It must be true, he says wonderingly. He has gathered all the persimmons together. We’ve been in the lowlands for barely an hour and have already stumbled across food. They must have an abundance.
Someone came through and picked over the rest of the tree earlier in the season, I point out. There may be people nearby.
He nods, growing serious. We’ll be careful tonight and take watches again.
We make a dinner of the persimmons, prudently saving some for tomorrow’s journey—though I know we’re both secretly hoping to find more food along the way. When we finish eating, I take his shirt out of the dye. It isn’t as dark a green as I’d hoped, but it’s definitely an improvement. I change into my clean robe and give him my travel-stained one to wear overnight. He can’t even fully cinch it, leaving a comical gap over his chest, but at least it will provide warmth.
We are in good spirits as we settle down for the night, playing another round of xiangqi before the sun goes down. I still can’t beat him, and he gently tries to coach me. The moves you make seem good, but you aren’t thinking far enough into the future. Plan at least two moves ahead of your opponent.
I sigh. You’d think I’d be better at that, with all the planning and organizing I normally have to do in my work.
A small hesitation is the only sign of Li Wei’s unease as he asks, Is marrying Sheng part of your plans?
The question catches me completely off-guard. Sheng has never come up in conversation between us before. Honestly, Sheng hasn’t even crossed my mind on this trip.
It’s part of the elders’ plans, I respond carefully.
I see.
You know how it is, I add when he says nothing more. You can’t be surprised at that. Artists always marry other artists.
Yes . . . but does it have to be him? asks Li Wei, a wry look on his face. It seems like there are better choices among the apprentices. Sheng is so . . .
Arrogant? Obnoxious? I supply.
Now Li Wei looks surprised. That doesn’t bother you?
I don’t think much about it, I say. He is the best apprentice among the boys. I’m the best girl. The elders think it is a wise match.
But that is all? Li Wei pushes. It’s the elders who want the match? Not you?
It doesn’t matter, I remind him. I will still abide by their wishes.
Li Wei is indignant. You shouldn’t marry because of someone else’s wishes—because it’s a wise match. You should marry someone who loves you. Someone who loves you passionately and would change the world for you.
The world would have to change indeed for that to happen, I point out. Do you see it changing anytime soon?
He gestures around us. It already has, Fei.