Gateway (23 page)

“It doesn’t have to be very big,” she said.

“Just enough room for the two of us.”

“And then one day we’ll decide to have a baby. . . .”

The words conjured up a vision so real, so desirable, that she almost gasped—and then, when she realized it would never come true, she almost whimpered. Kalen had fallen silent; she thought that he, too, was struggling with a sudden sense of powerful loss. She felt his hand brush the back of her neck, a touch of reassurance so light that no one in the aviary would be likely to mark it. It took all her control not to twist around on the bench and reach out for his embrace.

“I’d pick that life, if I was staying in Shenglang,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I hope you’ll find someone else who can live it with you.”

“It doesn’t seem likely that I will,” he said quietly.

She didn’t know how to answer. She couldn’t bear the thought that he would be alone the rest of his life—but she hated imagining him sharing
her
tent,
her
small house, with some brisk, cheerful
cangbai
girl. Her only comfort, and it was bitter, was knowing that she would not remember enough of this adventure to be jealous of any girl who might capture Kalen’s heart.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose neither of us can be sure what the rest of our lives will hold.”

“I suppose not,” he said, and she could tell he was attempting to lighten his voice. “I never would have guessed that
this
part of it would hold
you
.”

Quan met her at the aviary’s front gate. That last exchange with Kalen had shaken her; it was an effort to summon a smile for Quan. Fortunately, she didn’t have to talk much at first. The instant Daiyu had settled herself on the front seat of his car, he took off down the crowded streets, dodging around trolleys and terrifying unwary passersby. Between the wind and the noise of traffic and the shouts of angry pedestrians, there was no chance to make conversation.

By the time they stopped at a fancy café, she had somewhat recovered her poise, though she had to work at it to present her usual expression of serene good nature. Quan ordered frozen chocolate drinks for both of them, and Daiyu was pretty sure that the ice for these beverages cost more than the ingredients. She should have been appalled at the expense and the casual way Quan covered it, but she was hot, thirsty, and more than a little sad. She took the first few sips and closed her eyes to savor the cool, rich sweetness. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

Quan chatted easily about how he had spent his week and how much he was looking forward to the summer holiday at Chenglei’s. Only a handful of honored guests would spend the holiday at the prime minister’s house, but dozens would be invited for the festivities that night.

“When will you arrive for the celebration?” Daiyu asked.

“A little before night fall. Everyone waits till dark, of course, to set off the fireworks.”

“Xiang is so excited,” Daiyu said. “It’s as if she’s never been on holiday before.”

“Never as an overnight guest,” Quan said. “This is her proudest moment. The fact that Chenglei likes you has done a great deal to boost her social credit. She has already made two business deals that have eluded her for the past year.”

Daiyu was disquieted by the words. What would happen to Xiang’s social credit once Daiyu mysteriously disappeared? Of course Xiang could always say Daiyu had been called back suddenly to her mother’s side, but even so, it would look very strange. And if Xiang herself didn’t know what had become of Daiyu, she would worry. She might think Daiyu had been murdered or kidnapped—she might raise an outcry or contact the authorities—

“What’s wrong?” Quan asked.

Her perturbation must have showed on her face. “Oh—I was just thinking how strange it will be to go back home after the exciting time I have had here in Shenglang.”

Quan looked surprised. “Are you going home? Back to the northwest territories?”

Daiyu nodded, wishing she had found some other topic to turn the conversation. “I think I must. And perhaps soon. My mother did not send me here to become a permanent burden on my aunt, you know.”

Quan studied her soberly. “I think perhaps she did,” he said. “Though I am convinced Xiang does not think of you as a burden. I am convinced Xiang expects you to stay in Shenglang, perhaps to make your home with her forever.”

“That would be kind of her,” Daiyu murmured. She could see where this conversation was going and she wasn’t sure how to stop it. It had been painful, but so very sweet, to sit with Kalen and pretend they had a future together; she was not sure how to get through that same discussion with Quan.

He took a deep breath. “I too am growing accustomed to the idea that you will be in Shenglang always,” he said. “The city would seem very dull to me now if it were missing your beautiful eyes and your captivating laugh.”

She kept her eyes lowered and her laugh in abeyance. “As indeed I would find Shenglang to be quite empty if you were not in it,” she said. “You have been such a good friend to me.”

There was a short pause. She knew—from Xiang’s constant tutelage—that young men did not propose marriage directly to young women, but worked through their mothers and aunts to make agreeable arrangements. But what if he spoke to Mei tonight and Mei came running to Xiang’s house as fast as her feetwouldcarryher?Daiyucouldonlyguess,butitseemedlike the summer holiday would be a propitious time to announce a betrothal. Surely there must be some way to stave this off. She could not in good conscience accept a man’s proposal when, in a matter of days, she planned to abandon his city forever.

She could not say she was willing to marry him—not even in pretense, not even knowing the words were lies—when she was in love with another man.

She looked up, smiling with false brightness. “Let us not talk of serious things until after the holiday!” she said. “Let us just be merry and lighthearted for a few more days. After the summer festival, who knows what will have changed.”

He inclined his head. “Who knows, indeed. As always, you are wise, Daiyu.”

If only that were true. “As always, you are gracious, Quan.”

She turned her attention back to her frozen chocolate concoction only to find that all the ice had melted. She pushed it aside—she wasn’t sure she could swallow another drop.

They arrived at the prime minister’s house in time for the second morning meal of the day, which they ate outside on a shaded veranda that overlooked the lush green lawns behind the mansion. Daiyu counted three fountains and such a variety of plant life that the property could have doubled as a botanical garden. Servants were busy setting up tents and tables for the next day’s festivities, and it was pleasant to sit under an awning on a hot day, sipping cool drinks and watching competent people work on interesting tasks.

Chenglei’s other guests were two couples who each had one daughter, so, as was proper, a total of nine people sat together for this agreeable meal. Daiyu had met one of the girls at the Presentation Ball and the other one at Mei’s, though she had had no conversation with any of the parents. In fact, she didn’t have much conversation with any of them on this occasion, either, since the three girls were expected to be merely decorative while the older adults carried on a lively discussion about the current political situation in Yazhou. Daiyu would have been bored if she hadn’t been so replete with food that she was content to merely sit and look over the lawns. She saw one of the other girls impatiently ball her hands into fists and then slowly force her fingers to relax, and she grinned to herself. Not every Han girl was as meek as she appeared. This one would probably grow up to be as strong-willed and outspoken as Xiang herself.

In the afternoon, the housekeeper gave them a tour of the house, which Xiang particularly enjoyed, and they played board games in one of the plush parlors. When most of the others disappeared to nap or check their holiday outfits one last time, Daiyu escaped outside to stroll through the lawns and inspect the decorations more closely. There would be plenty of fragrant potted plants and strings of brightly colored paper lanterns, she saw, as well as dozens of little wrought-iron tables and chairs scattered across the yard. She guessed that food and drinks would be served under the gaily striped tents, and perhaps fireworks would be shot off from that structure that laborers were building near the back edge of the property.

“Are you looking forward to the celebration, Daiyu?” a man asked. She turned swiftly to find that Chenglei had approached her silently while she was staring at the scaffolding, trying to gauge how big the stage would be when it was completed.

She smiled and bowed her head. “We don’t have anything quite like this back home,” she said truthfully.

“Have you ever been to a celebration in Yazhou?” he asked.

In Asia
. She shook her head. “No, Prime Minister,” she said. “I’ve never traveled outside of the continent.”

He turned and began pacing slowly back toward the house, and she fell in step beside him. “Oh, you should go sometime,” he said. “Shenglang is the center of the world, as we all know, but Yazhou is a marvelous place, full of ancient secrets and a brooding beauty. Not everyone appreciates it, but I suspect in your soul a capacity for wonder. A willingness to look beyond the ordinary and the familiar to embrace the extraordinary and thestrange.”

She shivered a little when he said the words, which were truer than he had any right to understand. “Thank you, Prime Minister,” she said, her voice subdued. “No one has ever paid me a compliment quite like that before.”

“I traveled in Yazhou for years before I came to Shenglang,” he said. “You would be astonished at the items I brought back with me—plates and dishe smade of gold, statues carved of jade in every color, masks made of feathers, jewels that put a
qiji
to shame. All of them from vanished civilizations so old we cannot remember when they existed and we can only guess at what they believed. When my days seem overlong and my problems insurmountable, I hold one of these old artifacts in my hand and I realize how small a part I play in the ongoing story of the world.”

Was it his voice? Was it his words? He inspired in her a desire to study those lost societies, to dig through layers of rock and silt to find those antique treasures. “I would love to see such jewels and such statues,” she said earnestly.

“Would you? Come to my office tomorrow morning and I will present them to you one by one. I think you will be amazed and delighted. I would show them to you now,” he added, smiling ruefully, “but as you see, I am being summoned for some far less enjoyable duty.”

Indeed, they had arrived at the house by now and found a servant waiting at the doorway with a sheaf of papers in one hand and a portfolio in the other. “I will not keep the prime minister from his important tasks,” Daiyu said, bowing her head and stopping at the door. “But tomorrow I would be happier than he knows if he would grant me the privilege of viewing his foreign treasures.”

“Then it is an appointment,” he said. “I look forward to the chance to show them off to someone who will love them as much as I do.”

Neither of them mentioned the assignation over dinner that night, at which the nine of them sat down to a meal so lavish it made Xiang’s ordinary feasts look like food that might be served at Kalen’s table. However, Daiyu did tell Xiang that night before they parted to go to their separate, luxurious bedrooms.

“This is very good,” Xiang said, her dark eyes bright with satisfaction. “He likes you. He did not ask Lanfen’s daughter to come to his office and look over his treasures. I will not boast, ofcourse,butyoumightfindaway toletitfallthat you have seen some of Chenglei’s most cherished artifacts. In a very guileless manner, of course.”

Daiyu hid a smile. “Of course, Aunt.”

Xiang then launched into yet another lecture about how to behave during the celebration. Daiyu barely listened; she had heard these particular instructions too many times to count. Plus, she was distracted by the low, cascading tones of the big river bells calling the stonepickers to come to work in the morning. Chenglei’s house was far enough from the waterfront that the bells were barely audible, and Daiyu was washed with an unreasonable sense of panic. As if she was too far away from Kalen—as if she would not hear him if he called her name. She clenched her hands tightly to her sides and strained to hear every last stroke of the bells until the final note faded into the night.