smooth out the black cloth with her fingers. He bent so she could place it on his head. Her cheeks were tinged with pink and she was breathless from the wild run through the streets.
“Something’s not right,” he said.
“I know. It’s crooked.” Rose fussed over the headdress, trying to straighten it and arrange the tassels of cloth that fell down his back. Every muscle within her remained tense. Her expression was guarded.
“How did you even get in to see the head of the ward?” Cheng asked.
She wouldn’t look at him. Instead she fumbled within the bag. “I told you that I know every official in the district.”
He realized then what had happened. He reached for her, his voice thick with emotion. “Rose.”
She thrust the writing box into his hands. “Go inside before you’re late.”
“Rose, you bribed them to release me.”
The gong rang through the ward, starting the count for the hour. Another student ran into them, head down, book still open in his hands. Rose smiled as the young man apologized and redirected himself around them. She was still smiling when she finally met his eyes. It was a weak attempt to hide the sadness.
“Go,” she commanded. Even her commands had lost their sharpness. She brushed her hands briefly over the front of his robe in a show of smoothing out the wrinkles there. “You’re going to be late.”
His hands tightened over his writing case. If he could get hold of her, he’d never let go.
The gong had sounded four times. Cheng had no choice but to go into the examination hall. He looked back once to see Rose looking after him. Her hands were twined anxiously together. Her wide eyes were full of fear and hope.
The gong sounded again and it was time to find his place.
The examinations went on for over three days. Jia passed by the examination hall at least once on each of those days, though she knew it was completely senseless. Cheng was locked inside, writing commentaries on the five classics and the great poets. She refused to call her behaviour sentimental. It was just curiosity, that was all.
At the end of the week when the scholars gathered at the head of the turtle sculpture to hear the lists of names, she stood at the far end of the plaza, within the shadow of an alleyway. Cheng stood taller than the rest. She could only see him in profile, but she could make out the tilt of his head as he waited with anticipation.
The first rankings were read aloud. Luo Cheng wasn’t among them. She dug her nails so hard into her palms they nearly drew blood. The second ranking was read next. She strained to hear each name as the crier announced them one by one from his scroll. When she heard his name, she nearly shouted with joy. She wanted to run to him, but it wouldn’t have been proper.
His colleagues gathered around to congratulate him. Then the next names were being read and everyone hushed with attention. Cheng’s shoulders lifted with pride now as he listened to the rest of the rankings. Watching him filled her with joy.
She’d fallen in love. The realization took her breath away. Just the sight of Luo Cheng flooded her with yearning. His happiness had become her happiness.
He turned his head then, inexplicably glancing over his shoulder. Jia ducked further into the alley, her face burning. Her heart beat fearfully and panic set in. She was too far away for him to have possibly seen her anyway. It would be too awkward if they met.
She retreated from the plaza to return to the far reaches of the North Hamlet to bury her pain. Cheng had an illustrious future ahead of him now. She was just one of the hundreds of entertainers in the imperial capital, playing the same collection of melodies, reciting the same poems. Another tragic song girl who’d fallen in love with a man above her station.
Over the next days, her routine returned to its familiar pattern. The troupe played at several celebration banquets for those who had passed the exams with high marks.
“Something’s not right,” he said.
“I know. It’s crooked.” Rose fussed over the headdress, trying to straighten it and arrange the tassels of cloth that fell down his back. Every muscle within her remained tense. Her expression was guarded.
“How did you even get in to see the head of the ward?” Cheng asked.
She wouldn’t look at him. Instead she fumbled within the bag. “I told you that I know every official in the district.”
He realized then what had happened. He reached for her, his voice thick with emotion. “Rose.”
She thrust the writing box into his hands. “Go inside before you’re late.”
“Rose, you bribed them to release me.”
The gong rang through the ward, starting the count for the hour. Another student ran into them, head down, book still open in his hands. Rose smiled as the young man apologized and redirected himself around them. She was still smiling when she finally met his eyes. It was a weak attempt to hide the sadness.
“Go,” she commanded. Even her commands had lost their sharpness. She brushed her hands briefly over the front of his robe in a show of smoothing out the wrinkles there. “You’re going to be late.”
His hands tightened over his writing case. If he could get hold of her, he’d never let go.
The gong had sounded four times. Cheng had no choice but to go into the examination hall. He looked back once to see Rose looking after him. Her hands were twined anxiously together. Her wide eyes were full of fear and hope.
The gong sounded again and it was time to find his place.
The examinations went on for over three days. Jia passed by the examination hall at least once on each of those days, though she knew it was completely senseless. Cheng was locked inside, writing commentaries on the five classics and the great poets. She refused to call her behaviour sentimental. It was just curiosity, that was all.
At the end of the week when the scholars gathered at the head of the turtle sculpture to hear the lists of names, she stood at the far end of the plaza, within the shadow of an alleyway. Cheng stood taller than the rest. She could only see him in profile, but she could make out the tilt of his head as he waited with anticipation.
The first rankings were read aloud. Luo Cheng wasn’t among them. She dug her nails so hard into her palms they nearly drew blood. The second ranking was read next. She strained to hear each name as the crier announced them one by one from his scroll. When she heard his name, she nearly shouted with joy. She wanted to run to him, but it wouldn’t have been proper.
His colleagues gathered around to congratulate him. Then the next names were being read and everyone hushed with attention. Cheng’s shoulders lifted with pride now as he listened to the rest of the rankings. Watching him filled her with joy.
She’d fallen in love. The realization took her breath away. Just the sight of Luo Cheng flooded her with yearning. His happiness had become her happiness.
He turned his head then, inexplicably glancing over his shoulder. Jia ducked further into the alley, her face burning. Her heart beat fearfully and panic set in. She was too far away for him to have possibly seen her anyway. It would be too awkward if they met.
She retreated from the plaza to return to the far reaches of the North Hamlet to bury her pain. Cheng had an illustrious future ahead of him now. She was just one of the hundreds of entertainers in the imperial capital, playing the same collection of melodies, reciting the same poems. Another tragic song girl who’d fallen in love with a man above her station.
Over the next days, her routine returned to its familiar pattern. The troupe played at several celebration banquets for those who had passed the exams with high marks.
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