Category:

A thin stream of fear collected at the back of my neck as she lifted my chin with her fingers and turned my head one way and then the other. She opened my mouth and checked that I still had all my teeth. Uncle had told me she was the one I must please in order to gain admittance into the House. The rebellious, angry part of me wanted to jerk away. To behave in a manner that would cause offense so Uncle would be forced to send me back to our cottage on the outskirts of Wudan. The other part of me stayed still under her scrutiny, knowing that to behave in such a manner would be a poor way to repay how he had cared for me the past few years.

Her attention lingered on the scar upon my brow. Most people stared at it—some openly, others trying to avert their gaze, but their curiosity always drew them back. It cut from above my right brow, across the bridge of my nose, ending above my left eye. It used to look even uglier, the skin puckered and red, but had faded slightly in the past year. Still, a scar all the same, and one that could not be hidden by cleverly pinned hair pieces or adornments. It would be a blemish on my record in this place, where beauty was obviously held in the highest regard.

"There is potential for loveliness, without this." She traced the scar with her fingernail. "What happened?"

"Fell out of a tree," Uncle said gruffly. "Could have lost an eye, but she was lucky."

"Hmm." The mistress continued her consideration of me, unimpressed. "Can she read? Write?"

Uncle made a sound of offense. "She is my niece. Do you think I would neglect her education? Her calligraphy could use some work, but she has read and memorized the ten classics. She can recite three hundred poems from memory. You will not find her knowledge lacking."

"It takes considerable expense to train an entertainer," Madam Wu murmured, picking up a strand of my hair and examining it between her fingers. "Usually they come to me at five or six, when they are still malleable and not prone to bad habits. I can have my pick of the young scholars from the monastery or an eager apprentice of the Limen Theater. Why should I choose her?"

My face stung at her words, even though Uncle had warned me it would be like this. A push and a pull, much like the rise and fall of a song. He assured me she would take everything under serious consideration, for she owed him a favor from many years ago. A play he had written for her had gained great repute, and she was even invited to the Eastern Palace to perform. It was with that success she was able to open her own house, growing it to the successful establishment it had become.

'This is the way of the world', he had told me, before the carriage came and took us past the frozen lake and into the city proper. 'What you offer and what someone is willing to give you. Know your worth.'

I stood there, trembling, as they joked back and forth, as she criticized every detail of my appearance and mannerisms. Uncle countered with a list of my supposed virtues, but still I was reminded of every one of my faults. If I was so worthy, then why wouldn't he take me with him while he was called away on his travels? If I had skills to offer, then why was I not suitable to be his companion? But I'd already made my protests, cried my tears, begged him to reconsider. There was no changing his mind. Not when it involved the capital, and the demands of a powerful emperor.

"You say she has an aptitude with the qín." Madam Wu clapped and a servant appeared almost immediately in the doorway. "Have her demonstrate."

A table was quickly brought out, the instrument placed upon it, and a stool positioned in front. I ran my hand over the qín and gently plucked the strings, getting accustomed to the feel. It was made of a golden-colored wood, speckled with brown whorls, strung with good- quality silk. Each qín was unique—playing a new one was like meeting a person for the first time. This one's sound was warmer in tone than my own instrument, but it was well cared for.

"You are her teacher?" Madam Wu poured a cup of tea for my uncle, placing it next to him as they settled upon chairs for the performance. Uncle betrayed nothing in his expression as he lifted the cup to drink, no hint of nervousness or doubt in my abilities.

"Me?" He laughed. "I do not hold my musical skills in such high esteem that I could hope to train someone worthy of your notice. Her skills have long surpassed my abilities. Her instructor for the past two years has been Kong Yang of the Shandong School."

Teacher Kong. My fingers twitched at the phantom pain that lashed across my knuckles, a reminder of the thin piece of bamboo he held at his back like a sword to use on his students. Arrogant, and fastidious in his devotion to technique, but the sounds that flowed from his hands...

"Kong Yang?" I heard the surprise in her voice. "If she is worthy to be his student, then why not become one of his disciples at the academy?"