He pushed the branches aside and walked to a trail that led to the other side of the hill. It had to be the back of the court. The woods were dense, the buildings looked dusty, and there were few servants loitering about. We were, as far as I could see, completely alone.
I liked the way he walked, the way his arms swung and he held his head. He looked like a stallion enjoying a run in the breeze. He was also more attractive than I remembered: the profile of his nose was perfect, and the line of his jaw curved slightly. He still wore the same white tunic and a pair of white trousers he had worn on the day we met. They did not carry any embroidery works on the hem or any patterns that a noble boy’s clothes would have. But he looked clean and well-groomed, and he smelled of hay and fresh fruit.
He did not let me trail behind him as custom dictated; instead, he waited for me to catch up with him, and together, we walked side by side.
Once or twice, his arm brushed mine, and he attempted to hold my hand. I giggled and hid my hands in my sleeves. When he stopped trying, however, I regretted it with all my heart.
After a while, we arrived at a tangerine grove, where yellow-orange fruits drooped among thick, green leaves. In the air floated a sweet, lemony fragrance mixed with an earthy smell. I stood under a tree, my foot poking at the ground. Part of me was worried. What if someone caught us? Part of me was excited. I had never been alone with a boy before. What were we going to do?
“Here we are.” He plucked the fruit from a branch. “First batch of the season. Do you want a tangerine? This one looks ripe. Do you like tangerines?”
Of course I enjoyed delicious tangerines. But if I said I liked them sweet, would he think I was too predictable?
“Only if they’re sour.”
“I should have known.” Chuckling, he dug his thumb into the depressed navel of the citrus. A plume of mist burst out, and the zesty scent flew to my nose. My mouth watered, yet I cast my gaze low. He was so close to me. If I tripped over something, I would fall into his arms.
He was concentrating on the fruit in his hand. Carefully, he peeled off the rind and arranged the pieces around the fruit like petals of a blooming flower. Then he picked up the threadlike pith and removed it until there was nothing on the reddish flesh. He held a segment between his fingers. “Open your mouth.”
It would be rude to decline, wouldn’t it? I felt the soft tangerine on my tongue and bit down.
“How does it taste?”
“Good.” Actually, it tasted sour, with a hint of bitterness. But it did not matter.
His finger brushed my lips. “So you like it?”
I would have liked it if he had put a rock in my mouth. All I knew was his smooth skin and the tang of the citrus on his finger. No one had ever touched me like that before. “Yes.”
“Just the way you like it?” His finger lingered.
My heart pounded, and my cheeks warmed. I wanted to lift my head and look into his eyes, but I was worried he would know my thoughts. “Yes.”
“I’m glad.” I stole a look at him. He was grinning. His eyes, shielded by a thick fence of eyelashes, sparkled. “I thought I would never see you again.”
A sweet sensation rose from the bottom of my heart and spread to my limbs, but I said, “Why? Were you worried I would tell about you and Teacher Rain?”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
I could feel the warmth from his hand and his breath on my forehead. He was so close to me. His eyes, those pools of amber, danced with light, reminding me of how the rays of the sun sparkled on a summer field. Yes. I knew exactly what he meant, and that knowledge sent a ripple of happiness to my heart.
“Who is there?” a male voice called from the grove.
We froze. Pheasant grabbed my hand and pulled me to run. We dashed out of the grove, raced down the trails through the woods, and finally, turned onto the path leading to the polo field.
“That was close,” he said as we stopped to catch our breath.
“Did he see us? Who was he?” I asked, my heart pounding from running, and I was nervous too.
“Perhaps a gardener. Don’t worry.”
A servant holding a tray appeared down the hill. I stepped away from him. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
“Wait! Can I see you again?”
“I don’t know.” I smiled and walked quickly down the hill.
It was near supper hour. Time had gone fast. I had not known I had spent almost the whole afternoon with Pheasant. On the horizon, the sun shone brightly like a sweet tangerine, and the air smelled fragrant, intoxicating with its scent.
AD 641
the Fifteenth Year of Emperor Taizong’s Reign of Peaceful Prospect
AUTUMN
11
I was reading in the library when Teacher Rain snatched the scroll of poems from my hand. “Follow me,” she said.
I walked behind her. She seemed ill-tempered, and I was wary. “May I ask where we’re going?”
She did not answer, and I followed behind her as we passed a gate, a vast courtyard, then another gate, and another courtyard. The ladies in the corridors raised their heads from weiqi tables and studied me. Maids leaned over brooms and glanced at me. I did not look at them, but I grew uneasy inwardly.