可望而不可即
kě wàng ér bùkě jí
Can see but can not approach.
Within sight but beyond reach-unattainable.
It was sometime around the end of the ox hour when Zakhar awoke in a familiar room that was not his own. He knew the hour by the fact that it was still and quiet, a rare thing in Zhanghai's pleasure district. The sound of flutes and the strum of three string guitars was absent. The voices of the girls calling out to draw customers to their establishments had stopped. There were no sounds at all except for the distant laughter of one lone reveler still awake, and the trickle of water from an ornamental stream in a courtyard somewhere below.
Rising, Zakhar went to the window. Looking out across the ornately carved roofs of the tea houses and brothels he saw that the eastern sky was still dark. He turned and absently surveyed the room, uninterested in the elegant contents, the sofas and the portraits of beautiful women on the walls, the vases filled with silk and real flowers. The huge bed piled with cushions and silk sheets from which he had just risen.
He found his clothes folded and stacked neatly for him upon one of the sofas. He dressed quickly and then went to the door. "I'll see you, Mei," he said. A pale arm rose from the silk sheets of the bed and a mumbled reply came from beneath the pillows.
Zakhar made his way down the stairs to the courtyard. It had been roofed over above with tarp, and the area below was filled with woven wicker sofas where patrons could relax while being served by the women of Tianshi Sheng. No one was there now, but empty cups on tables and a few scattered items of clothing showed it had been busy earlier.
As Zakhar walked past the rooms, he felt the lines of his tattoos swirl and change. Although the girls of Tian Shi Sheng were human, the clientele were often not. Zakhar barely needed to glance at his arms to know. A Dama in one room, and Dayang in another. A horse and sheep. Probably traders visiting Zhanghai for business, who had decided spending their night in the arms of a pretty girl was the best way to avoid homesickness.
Zakhar could not condemn them. After all, the reason he came to the brothel was no better.
The sound of a broom caused Zakhar to pause. From behind a column, a young girl emerged, no older than fourteen years, slowly sweeping the stones in front of her with a long brush broom. Zakhar knew the girl. Ying. She had lost both her parents during a raid by Northern soldiers on her village. When Mei had found the girl, she had been skin and bones, begging on the streets of Zhanghai. Mei had brought her in, and, not wanting to force her into the profession of the other women at Tianshi Sheng, had put her to work cleaning.
Ying had taken to her job with relish, and often helped out with other tasks around the brothel as well. Inherently shy, the girl avoided most of the brothels customers, but Zakhar knew that often times the girl would play go with Kageyama in the kitchen while the kitsune was waiting on Sanli.
As Zakhar approached, Ying looked up, fearfully. Her eyes fixed on his tattoos, running from the collar of his shirt up his neck, and her hands tightened on the broom. Zakhar felt his gut clench. Of course she was afraid of him. Northern men with tattoos like his had killed her family.
Zakhar smiled gently at her as he approached, and moved to the side so as to give the girl a wide berth and not scare her. He felt her eyes follow him.
Then the girl's voice, soft and shy, reached him. "Tell Lord Kageyama I've been practicing. He doesn't need to let me win anymore."
Zakhar laughed softly, turning back to the girl. "Hah, I doubt that fox would willingly lose to anyone. If you won, you won. You must be very skilled. Kageyama's been playing a long time." The girl blushed, twisting her hands around the broom handle in her embarrassment. "Have a good night," Zakhar said, bowing slightly, before departing.
He approached the entrance. The door of the guard room was ajar, and golden light poured out of it, cutting through the dim red light of the lanterns strung everywhere. Zakhar pushed the door open. His tattoos shifted again as they recognized the old Daquan Mei employed as a guard. The mu'ren sat tipped back in his chair, both feet on the table. A book of erotic images lay open across his lap. The images were all of men.
The man himself was asleep, mouth open and snoring, neck at an off angle. Some guard dog, thought Zakhar. He left, shutting the door loudly, hearing the grunt and clack as the man inside awoke from slumber, then set all four legs of his chair on the floor hastily.
Leaving the brothel, Zakhar turned once on the street and glanced back at the wooden sign with its inscribed red characters. 天使聲. Tianshi Sheng. Angel's Voice. The sight of that sign had once made him feel warm, knowing companionship was ahead. That he would not have to spend the night alone, left with nothing but his thoughts and dark creeping dreams.
Now, as he turned to make his way back through the streets of Zhanghai, he felt cold, though the humid air of summer had weakened the chill that usually came before dawn.
The Garden District was not far from Chuanfang, and Zakhar arrived back at the Boat House just as day was dawning. Making his way up the steep slope and entering the courtyard, Zakhar wondered what the other inhabitants of Chuanfang were doing. If the sun was rising, he knew Kageyama would be watching it. Sanli might already be up and practicing his calligraphy, or asleep still, depending on how much he had to drink at the Midsummer Banquet. Ao seemed to enjoy sleeping late, but who knew with Ao. Ermi was probably still—
"Zakhar Da-ge!" Ermi's voice echoed loudly in the still early morning air. She ran across the courtyard toward Zakhar. On her feet, another pair of house slippers were ruined. She was still in her dress from the night before, though it looked crumpled. She must have slept in it.
"Tiger's teeth, Ermi you scared me."
"You'll never guess what happened!" she said, grabbing on to Zakhar's broad forearm and hanging off it.
"I'm sure I won't. Let's go back inside, I need to change and so do you," Zakhar said, shooing Ermi toward the entrance. He had asked Mei to be careful not to leave any evidence on his neck and shoulders of their activities, but still, coming back at this time in the morning smelling of the incense of the pleasure district only meant one thing.
Ermi let herself be shooed. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise to go out on the bay with Lady Yunyou and me today." At the mention of Ao, Zakhar suddenly saw a vivid image of the girl as she had looked last night, in that bright red dress standing under lamp light, her lips red as her dress and quirked in a smile. "Sho Sensei said we can't go without an escort, and everyone else is busy."
"Of course I'll go with you little one, lets just go inside, I need to—"
"Ao—I mean Lady Yunyou is engaged to Lord Guang Han!"
"What?" Zakahr's foot, which he had been about to place on the lowest step, slipped, and he shuddered to a stop.
"Lord Guang Han proposed, and Ao-jie accepted!" Ermi sounded excited, possibly for her instructor, but also at the fact that she knew what a sensation such a match would cause.
"What— how did, where did.... Guang Han?" Zakhar said, trying to form a question. Only hours ago he had been worried about Ao getting used by the Second Prince for his schemes. And now she was engaged to one of the wealthiest and most feared mu'ren in Zhanghai? In the whole of the East?
"It must have been love at first sight. He saw her with my brother, and then summoned her to propose only hours later! Ahhhh, so romantic," Ermi sighed dreamily, but there was an edge to her words.
It must have Zhangyu's doing. Zakhar had never liked the Second Prince. The man was even more self serving than his uncle, if that was possible. Zakhar's hands tightened into fists, fingernails digging into his palms. He stood where he had stopped, at the bottom of the steps, unsure where to go or what to do next.
As he stood there, frozen, Ao herself appeared at the top of the stair. She was dressed in a slim gown, slit at one side, beneath which she wore leather trousers for riding. In her hands she held a pair of riding gloves, and her hair was done up in tight braids pinned to her head. She looked fresh and clean in the early morning light.
She descend the stairs, signaling to a nearby stable boy to saddle a horse, and stopped beside them. Ermi greeted her, and Ao greeted her student back, then turned to Zakhar. "Good morning Zakhar," she eased forward slightly to smell his lapel. "Pleasant evening?"
"It was. And you?" Zakhar managed to grind out. He was angry. He didn't know at who though.
"It was very productive," said Ao absently, playing with a finger of her glove, before pulling it on. The other glove followed. Zakhar noticed that a small hole had been cut out of each glove, just below where Ao's little finger was. He wondered why.
Ermi could contain herself no longer. "Uncle Sanli told me the news!!! When will the wedding be, Ao-jie? Where will it be? What will you wear? Can I be a flower maid? What will the flower maids wear?"
"I imagine the wedding will be later in the summer," said Ao, still staring off out the gateway to Chuanfang's courtyard. "Go change your dress. I won't answer your other questions until you do. And I won't be going out on Serendipity today."
"Oh," said Ermi, taken aback. "Yes, Ao-jie." Distracted though he was, Zakhar noted Ermi's expression as she turned to go back into Chuanfang. The look she shot Ao was a complex mixture of hate, envy and adoration.
Women really were the strangest creatures.
Ermi departed, and Zakhar's eyes went back to Ao, an even stranger creature. He studied her profile, as she stood beside him, eyes on the entrance, thoughts somewhere else. She did not seem particularly excited or dismayed at her engagement. Did she even want to marry the man? Could he convince her not to?
What can I say? Thoughts tumbled in and around Zakhar's head like leaves in a storm. Words threatened to slip from his lips. Zakhar wanted to tell her to break off the engagement. That the dragon was known for his ruthlessness. That there was someone out there who would care for her, and keep her happy and safe.
What can I do? Zakhar thought. I have no claim on her. I am nothing to her. She told me already she had no interest in me, and I agreed to be her friend. Does a friend have the right to try to change her mind?
Around them, Chuanfang woke up. Maids carrying pails laughed as they went to wash laundry. The cook's boy ran across to the stable, no doubt sent out to retrieve last minute forgotten ingredients for the day's meals. The guards at the entrance, where Ao's eyes were still fixed, changed, the two sleepy looking men gladly giving up their posts to their refreshers.
Finally, after silence had hung between them for many minutes, Zakhar spoke.
"Where are you going," he said, nodding to her riding gloves.
"To see someone," said Ao, vaguely.
"Who?" asked Zakhar, stomach sinking as he imagined the answer.
Ao opened her mouth to reply, but before she could a horse and rider clattered into the courtyard.
"The Second Prince requests Lady Yunyou's presence immediately !" the rider called out with urgency.
Ao smiled with satisfaction. "Right on time," she said. The stable boy approached, leading the spirited piebald mare that Zakhar had noticed in the stables. He had not realized the horse was Ao's.
Zakhar stepped forward to help lift Ao onto her horse. She murmured her thanks, placing her soft riding boot into his cupped hands. He lifted her foot with ease and Ao rose, swinging her other leg up and over the piebald's back, her skirts flying behind her. As she settled in the saddle, the horse shifted beneath her, snorting unhappily.
"You've had plenty of rest, you lazy creature," said Ao, swatting at the mare's neck with the end of her reins. The mare tossed her head angrily in response.
Zakhar could tell the mare was not an easy ride. He wanted to offer to saddle Dunya for Ao instead. Or to accompany her to the palace. Or to tell her that, for whatever reason she was marrying Guang Han, he could think of a better reason not to. But he still could not speak.
What can I say? What can I do?
Nothing. He already knew Ao would do exactly as she pleased. It was the reason he had been drawn to her in the first place.
Ao turned her horse to speak to Zakhar. "I'll see you later. If my.... betrothed thinks to call on me, tell him I will return around noon." Her mouth twisted at the word betrothed, as though it was funny to her.
Why are you marrying him? What can he give you? Ten thousand words rose to Zakhar's lips. But all he said was: "I will."
*~*~*~*~*~*