My Fair Concubine - By Jeannie Lin Page 0,3

of humble servants. Who was she to be outraged?

She would certainly be scolded by both master and mistress, each separately and then together. Yan Ling could hear them already. She had become too much of a burden to feed, to clothe. She wasn’t even pretty enough to bring in more customers. They might even be angry enough to take a bamboo switch to her.

A beating was all she’d have to suffer, if she was lucky.

* * *

Fei Long rose after no more than three hours of sleep in the very same sparse boarding room where he’d found Pearl, above the cursed teahouse. There weren’t any other lodgings in this small town. To add to his shame, he’d needed to leave a promissory note with the proprietor affixed with his family seal in return for his stay. All of his money had gone with his sister.

The morning sun streaming through the shutters didn’t bring any more clarity. Brooding over the situation hadn’t given him any solutions either. Once he returned to the capital, he’d have to face the consequences of letting Pearl go. He tied back his hair and dressed himself, attaching his sword at his belt. The robe had dried from the tea that the she-demon had thrown at him. It was a minor mishap in an epic tale of disaster. The tragic tale had started with the unexpected news of his father’s death and would likely end with him throwing himself on the imperial court’s mercy.

A stretch of dirt road separated the inn from the town centre, which was a cluster of wooden buildings overlooking the market area. Beyond this road, the cities would shrink to the tiny villages and settlements barely known to the heart

of the empire.

Pearl’s future was left to the open road and to fate now. Perhaps it was a better situation than his. His sister was free without the weight of the family name bearing down on her. As eldest son, as only son, preserving their honour was his burden.

An attendant brought his horse from the stable. As he headed toward the animal, a small, grey figure shot out into the street.

‘My lord!’

A quick glance revealed the teahouse girl scurrying in his direction. He turned his back on her as he took the reins from the attendant.

‘My lord, please wait.’ She sounded harried and out of breath behind him. He didn’t answer as he faced the horse to the street, leading him by the bridle.

‘I must beg your pardon,’ she continued, her footsteps trailing behind his.

So, none of the impudence she’d shown the previous night. He could be generous. It was a small insult considering, and not worth the trouble.

‘Granted.’

He braced his foot in the stirrup to prepare to mount, when a tug at his sleeve stopped him.

The young woman recoiled as he turned to her. ‘Please. Forgive my intrusion, honourable sir. My lord…’

The list of courtesies made him impatient. He frowned as he waited for her to finish. She clasped her hands together nervously and spoke faster.

‘I’ve been thrown out by the teahouse owner!’

Her bottom lip trembled and she looked away, trying to hide the unsightly outburst of emotion. Her hair was tied in a simple fashion and allowed to sweep down over one shoulder. For the first time, he noticed that her eyes were red and slightly swollen.

‘That was not my intention,’ he replied gravely.

Once again, he tried to mount. Again, she reached for him. This time, he stopped before she needed to tug at him. She took two steps away instead of one when he swung around. Did propriety mean nothing to her?

‘I am truly sorry for ruining your robe. I’ll wash it myself,’ she promised. ‘If you can just speak to the proprietor and his wife.’

The horse tossed his head, agitated with the delay. Fei Long felt the same agitation growing within him.

‘This matter is not my concern.’

‘I’m being punished—’

‘As you should be,’ he replied simply.

There was no cruelty in his words. Despite being attacked without provocation, he hadn’t demanded retribution. She was fortunate he didn’t believe in beating servants.

‘But I’ve apologised.’ She blocked his path now, this willow-thin girl who was all eyes and hair. ‘Sincerely, humbly, with all my soul, apologised. Please take pity. Won’t you help me?’

He made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat, which seemed to startle her. She frowned at him.

‘These are your amends to make, not mine, young miss. Go humble yourself before your master and mistress and make your plea with