LITMIR.BIZ

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weapon was rusted near the handle. Tao closed his hand around the hilt. He didn’t ask about the man Feng wanted killed. There was no need to know any more when he had decided this was the only way.

      ‘Be sure to hit the heart.’

      Feng poked a bony finger against his ribcage and Tao swallowed his anger at the indignity. He was little more than skin and bone, his shoulders just beginning to broaden.

      ‘Follow through and shove the blade upwards,’ Feng said with a final vicious jab. ‘Even if you miss, he won’t survive for long.’

      Tao hid the knife close to his side and gripped it so hard his fingers stiffened around it. The roughened hilt melded to the flesh of his palm. He didn’t have far to walk, only across the street into a dark corner where he could see the entrance to the drinking house. Laughter came from inside, floating down from the upper level where noblemen dined and whored, fat with food and wine. All he had to do was wait for the right one to come out.

      His legs grew stiff with waiting. He dropped his shoulder against the mortared brick of the alley. Hour after hour, noblemen staggered out of the door, tripping over their ornate robes. Eventually, the laughter died down. The lanterns still glowed from the rafters, but the clink of cups had grown sparse.

      The man wasn’t in there. Feng had given him only this one night to do this deed and the man wasn’t there. Or Tao had missed him in those moments when he had let his eyelids drop out of exhaustion. In desperation, he considered rushing the door and ploughing upstairs to find the man. How far would he get, an unwashed street urchin with his clothes worn threadbare?

      Two men came stumbling through the beaded curtain over the entrance. Tao straightened and his palm started to sweat around the knife.

      Two. He hadn’t anticipated that. Either of them could overpower him.

      ‘One more!’ The nobleman weaved back and forth in the blue robe that marked him as the target. ‘One more for the road.’

      His companion laughed beside him and dragged him upright. ‘Not a drop left in the place, my friend.’

      Now. He moved without taking the time to shake the stiffness from his limbs, without any thought as to how he would fight off both men. Only the companion saw Tao emerge on to the street. His expression sobered, but he didn’t call out for help. He merely straightened and stepped away.

      Tao stalked forwards like a tiger, like an arrow. He didn’t look at the man’s face. He focused in on the point between his ribs where Feng had directed him. The knife lifted and he shoved the blade with all his strength, punching through cloth and flesh, never stopping. This was the only way.

      Hot, thick blood washed over his hand, the copper stink of it like the butcher shop. The man made a grunting, gurgling noise. Only then did Tao glimpse his face. He wished he hadn’t. Rounded cheeks and weak chin with eyes wide in confusion. His careless drunkenness stopped cold.

      The blade snapped and Tao staggered backwards, grasping only the hilt. He ran, shoving his way back into the shadows. At any moment, the outcry would rouse the city guards, and he would hear the twang of the archer’s bow. The arrow would enter his back and pierce through his heart like the rusty blade had pierced the nobleman’s chest.

      It was the first time he had taken a life. He felt no joy in the killing, but he felt no remorse either. The truth was he felt nothing. None of the nervous exhilaration or hunger that came when snatching food from the marketplace.

      He found Feng in another nest of alleyways at the designated spot. His decaying smile gleamed lurid in the dimness. Feng dropped three coins into Tao’s palm.

      Somehow Tao’s feet took him back through the wards to the familiar hovel tucked in quieter streets. The sky was lightening in the stillness before the market gong. Auntie’s window lay open. The old woman trusted no harm would come to her. From the doorstep, he could hear her stirring a pot of rice for the morning meal. The heat from her stove clung sweet and warm around him.

      He stared down at the coins in his hand, a wicked hint of silver stained red. He rubbed the coins clean against his sleeve and dropped them just inside the window before turning to go.

       Present day—ad 759

      The rhythm and pattern of the household was an easy one to find once Li Tao released her from confinement. The mansion was arranged neatly in a double courtyard. Each morning, several servants could be seen sweeping along the bays. The clip of the gardener’s shears sounded in the garden. The kitchen and all the meals were ruled over by a balding cook that everyone called ‘Cook’. A regiment of soldiers patrolled the perimeter, but rarely set foot in the house. If she watched from the windows, she could measure the day by their rounds.

      The routine was ordinary. Mundane enough to lure her into a false sense of security. Li Tao often rode out early in the morning before the house awoke. Late at night, she would see a candle burning in his study. It had taken only two days to realise she could see his window from the garden.

      She waited each day for their next encounter. He had interrogated her, taunted her and kissed her. A kiss that was as inscrutable as he was. And then the contemptible proposition for a single night in her bed—but he hadn’t sought her again after that.

      Every morning, Auntie brought her a tray with tea and her morning meal along with news about the price of grain and what Cook was preparing for the midday meal. Today, the rice congee had settled into a cold paste and Auntie was oddly silent while she helped her dress.

      ‘Be cautious today,’ Auntie warned as she tied her sash. ‘Today is an unfavourable day.’

      Astrology was one of Auntie’s pastimes. She would count the days off on her fingers and declare it a favourable day or a poor one. She had already divined that the year would be a difficult one for Suyin. An easy prediction considering she was being held prisoner by a rogue jiedushi and wanted dead by another one. Auntie deliberately overlooked the circumstances with happy ignorance like a frog in a well. Suyin wondered how much Li Tao had revealed to any of the servants.

      Her morning stroll through the garden revealed an uncharacteristic silence. The servants were gathered in the front hall. They pressed against the entrance, craning their necks like a flock of geese to see over one another.

      ‘It has happened again,’ one of them murmured.

      ‘Why is everyone whispering?’ Suyin asked, coming up behind them.

      ‘Superstitious peasants,’ Auntie scoffed, but she too stood back.

      The servants stepped aside for her as she peered out through the open doors. The clearing at the front of the mansion was empty except for the swaying shadows of the bamboo stalks.

      ‘There’s nothing there.’ Suyin found that she too had dropped her voice to a hush. The press of the servants hovered at her back.

      ‘Over there, between the lion statues.’

      One of them pointed out the spot to her. A red parcel rested on the top step, a splash of jarring crimson against the white stone.

      ‘It came in the night.’

      ‘Same as last year.’

      ‘Same as every year.’

      She looked back at the servants. ‘What is it?’

      They all shook their heads while Auntie worried her hands together and said nothing. It was clear they were waiting for her to do something, deferring to her because of her perceived status.

      She turned back to the silk-wrapped parcel. Her rational mind told her this air of mystery was unwarranted. Someone intended for this delivery to spark gossip. With a show of resolution, she squared her shoulders and stepped out beyond the portico.

      ‘Lady Ling, wait!’

      It was the first time Jun, the gardener’s assistant, had spoken directly to her. Without thinking, he reached for her sleeve with his one good arm, but then

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