My first council meeting began after breakfast.
This was important.
Had Father required politics before food, I might have joined Cao Cao.
I arrived to find six men already seated around a long table, with Li Ru beside Father and enough bamboo slips between them to suggest the Han Dynasty was being held together by stationery.
Father pointed to the empty place near him.
“Sit.”
I sat.
An elderly official began speaking.
I listened.
For a while.
There was a vacancy in Yanshi.
Two men wanted it.
One had served somewhere respectable. The other had relatives somewhere even more respectable. Somebody's uncle had recommended somebody's nephew, which another man disliked because the nephew's father had once opposed his cousin.
I slowly reached for tea.
The official continued.
I drank.
He continued.
Then Father said, “Yu.”
I looked up.
He was waiting.
So was everyone else.
“Yes?”
Father's eyes narrowed.
“Which man?”
I looked toward the elderly official.
He looked offended already.
Dangerous to admit I had lost the thread.
“Which one has fewer relatives at court?”
The room went quiet.
The official blinked.
Li Ru looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because if he gets the post, I don't want six relatives arriving tomorrow to explain that he owes it to them.”
The elderly official's expression changed.
Not agreement.
Not disagreement either.
Father looked at Li Ru.
Li Ru said, “The second candidate has fewer close relations at court.”
I lifted my tea.
“Give it to him.”
Father ignored my recommendation completely.
Council proceeded.
There were reports from the gates.
Reports from the palace.
A dispute involving horses.
I stopped caring.
Then a clerk began reading storehouse figures.
My attention returned halfway through the first sentence.
Not voluntarily.
It was the tone.
There was a tone used by men everywhere when presenting a number that was technically defensible and spiritually fraudulent.
The clerk read the registered amount of grain held in several western stores.
Father asked, “Enough?”
The clerk bowed.
“Yes, my lord.”
I frowned.
Father saw it.
“Yu.”
Damn.
“What?”
“You disagree.”
“No.”
“You made that face.”
“This is my face.”
Li Ru looked at me.
Father continued staring.
Fine.
I pointed at the clerk's slip.
“Is that how much grain exists, how much the register says exists, or how much can actually leave the storehouse?”
The clerk hesitated.
I knew that hesitation.
For one beautiful moment, I felt homesick.
He said, “The latest registers record…”
“The second one.”
Father looked between us.
The clerk stiffened.
“There have been recent distributions not yet fully entered.”
“Of course there have.”
I drank my tea.
Li Ru asked the clerk to produce the last physical tally.
That was no longer my problem.
Ten minutes later, the official figure had lost enough grain to feed a small village.
Father turned toward me.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
Father's mouth twitched.
“I was going to ask whether you noticed anything else.”
“I noticed breakfast was better.”
Father dismissed me shortly afterward.
I left before he reconsidered.
Council was less terrible than expected.
This worried me.
Anything tolerable eventually became routine.
I reached my courtyard and found Qiao'er waiting beneath the gallery.
She held a bundle of bamboo slips.
A thick bundle.
Tied with cord.
I slowed.
She bowed.
“Young Master.”
I looked at the bundle.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you armed?”
Qiao'er looked down at what she was carrying.
“This?”
“Yes.”
“The list.”
I stopped.
Yesterday.
Mother.
The women I had offended.
I had assumed Qiao'er was making a threat.
She had apparently been taking minutes.
“Why does the list need cord?”
“So it does not fall apart.”
“That wasn't the question.”
Qiao'er handed it to me.
It had weight.
Actual weight.
I looked at her.
“How long did you work on this?”
“Not long.”
That hurt more.
I untied the cord.
The first slip contained a name I did not recognize.
“Lady Han.”
Qiao'er nodded.
“What did I do?”
“You sent her a love poem.”
“Mine?”
“Her father's.”
I frowned.
“He wrote it?”
“For Lady Han's mother.”
I looked at the slip again.
“And I sent it to the daughter.”
“Yes.”
I put the slip down.
“Next woman.”
Qiao'er handed me another.
“Lady Zhao.”
I read the name.
“Flowers?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“You sent them to her mother.”
I looked up.
“By accident?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
I waited.
Qiao'er said, “You were trying to make Lady Zhao jealous.”
I stared at her.
“Did it work?”
“Her mother liked the flowers.”
That was not the question.
I decided I did not want the answer.
The next slip contained another name.
Lady Cai.
“What happened here?”
“You attended her wedding.”
“That sounds innocent.”
“You sent the bride flowers the next morning.”
I lowered the slip.
“Less innocent.”
“You had been drinking.”
“Better.”
“You were sober when you sent them.”
Worse again.
I read the name twice, hoping context would arrive from the dead owner's memories.
Nothing.
“Why?”
Qiao'er finally looked at me.
“You said her husband looked too pleased with himself.”
I slowly set the slip beside the others.
Original Dong Yu had not been a good man.
But occasionally, he had been committed to nonsense at a level I respected.
“Did the husband find out?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“You avoided his house for two months.”
“Excellent judgment.”
“He lived next door.”
I looked at her.
Qiao'er was perfectly serious.
“Next.”
The list went on.
Some crimes were smaller.
Forgotten names.
Missed invitations.
Inviting two women to the same performance and only realizing after both arrived.
Telling one woman that blue suited her after having apparently spent the previous month insisting green was the only color worthy of her face.
That one felt unfair.
A man should be permitted artistic development.
Then I found a familiar surname.
“Wei.”
Qiao'er glanced down.
“Magistrate Wei's daughter.”
“I remember her.”
“You remember yesterday.”
“That is how memory works.”
Qiao'er did not argue.
I studied the slip.
“I asked whether she had an elder sister.”
“In front of her mother.”
“Yes. We've established that.”
“You asked because you thought she was the younger sister.”
I looked up.
“What?”
Qiao'er folded her hands.
“You had met the elder sister before.”
“The married one?”
“She was not married yet.”
Something dangerous was forming.
“Was I interested in her?”
“Very.”
“Then I met the younger sister.”
“Yes.”
“And asked where the elder one was.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the slip.
“That sounds bad.”
“It became worse.”
I closed my eyes.
“How?”
“You told her they looked remarkably alike.”
“That is normal for sisters.”
“They don't.”
I opened my eyes.
Qiao'er added, “Not even slightly.”
I handed the slip back.
“I don't want to marry anymore.”
“You were very enthusiastic yesterday.”
“I have received new information.”
A servant appeared at the entrance of the courtyard.
“Lady Song asks for Young Master.”
I looked toward Qiao'er.
She retied the bundle.
“You're taking that?”
“Madam asked for it.”
“My mother has no need to see all of this.”
“She asked me to make it.”
Naturally.
I followed Qiao'er with the strange sensation of being escorted to trial by my own criminal record.
Mother was waiting with tea.
No marriage notes today.
That gave me hope.
Then she saw the bundle under Qiao'er's arm.
“Good.”
Hope died young.
Qiao'er placed it beside her.
Mother rested one hand on top.
I looked at her.
“You haven't even read it.”
“I know my son.”
“Then I would like to appeal before sentencing.”
Mother gave me a look.
“I heard from Magistrate Wei's household.”
I put down the cup.
“That sounds serious.”
“It isn't.”
“Good.”
“Madam Wei is willing to meet our household socially.”
I waited.
Mother waited too.
I realized she expected a reaction.
“Does that mean her daughter agreed?”
“It means her mother has no objection to allowing the two of you to meet.”
“So her daughter may still object.”
“Of course.”
I relaxed.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
I stopped relaxing.
“Today?”
“You wanted to meet her.”
“I wanted to know whether she was beautiful. That investigation somehow developed administration.”
Mother's patience remained intact.
“Lady Du is receiving several women this afternoon. Madam Wei and her daughter will attend. I will attend. You may appear for part of it without any formal proposal being made.”
That sounded almost safe.
“Will Magistrate Wei be there?”
“No.”
“Her brother?”
“No.”
“Any colonels?”
“No.”
I looked at Qiao'er.
“See? Mother can find women without troops when properly motivated.”
Mother picked up her cup.
“Continue speaking and I may reconsider.”
I stopped.
The timing was unfortunate only because I had planned to spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing.
I could sacrifice.
For beauty.
History demanded courage.
A maid entered carrying a narrow folded note.
“For Young Master.”
Mother looked at me.
“From whom?”
The maid answered before I could.
“Miss Yue.”
Mother looked at me again.
Different look.
I accepted the message.
“Professional correspondence.”
Qiao'er said nothing.
Mother's silence became worse.
I unfolded the note.
Miss Yue's handwriting was annoyingly elegant.
The message was brief.
She had decided to leave Luoyang.
Tomorrow morning.
The cart she had hired for her belongings had been taken for military use.
The man who had promised another now wanted three times the agreed price.
At the bottom, she had written:
Young Master advised leaving before everyone wished to leave. It seems everyone has begun practicing.
I read that line again.
Then handed the note to Qiao'er.
Mother asked, “What is it?”
“Miss Yue is leaving.”
That got her attention.
“West?”
“Yes.”
Qiao'er finished reading.
“She needs a cart.”
Mother said, “You have one.”
I stared at her.
Then remembered.
Right.
I owned things.
Occasionally useful ones.
Seven horses.
A carriage.
Enough forgotten property to qualify as my own distant relative.
“The carriage.”
Mother nodded.
I looked at Qiao'er.
“Can her chests go in it?”
“Some. Not all.”
“What about the old cart in the south yard?”
Qiao'er thought.
“The axle was repaired last month.”
“Good.”
She gave me a strange look.
“What?”
“You remembered it.”
“No, I didn't. Steward Han complained about paying for it.”
Much safer.
Mother said, “Send both.”
I nodded and rose.
Then Mother added, “You are expected at Lady Du's this afternoon.”
I stopped.
Right.
Beautiful woman number two.
I looked at the message again.
Miss Yue left at dawn.
Magistrate Wei's daughter, as far as I knew, was not being evacuated from Luoyang by sunrise.
“Can Lady Du's meeting happen another day?”
Mother's expression sharpened.
“You intend to go yourself?”
“She asked me for help.”
“She asked whether you knew where another cart might be hired.”
“That is help.”
“You can send Qiao'er.”
Qiao'er looked toward me.
I considered it.
She absolutely could handle everything.
Probably better than I could.
That was irritating.
But Miss Yue had left because of something I told her.
And if the roads really were already tightening, I wanted to see what that looked like.
That was the selfish part.
There was always a selfish part if you searched properly.
“I'll go.”
Mother watched me.
“Then what should I tell Madam Wei?”
I thought about that.
The truth was terrible.
A lie required effort.
“The truth.”
Mother's eyebrows rose.
“That you cancelled an opportunity to meet her daughter because Miss Yue needed a cart?”
When Mother said it aloud, it sounded substantially worse.
I sat back down.
“Perhaps not the entire truth.”
“Tell Madam Wei an obligation arose,” I said.
Mother considered me.
“Which is true.”
“Beautifully.”
“And if she asks what obligation?”
“Tell her I was called away.”
“By whom?”
I looked at the note.
“A woman.”
Mother closed her eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “Leave that part out.”
Miss Yue had packed less than I expected.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Two chests.
One bundle of clothing.
Her qin wrapped carefully in cloth.
The flute player from my previous visit sat near the doorway tying a bundle that did not appear to belong to her.
Miss Yue stood beside an older woman giving instructions to a servant.
She saw me enter.
Then saw Qiao'er.
Then looked through the gate toward my carriage and cart.
“You came yourself.”
I nodded.
“You sound disappointed.”
“Surprised.”
“Worse.”
A small smile.
I looked at the chests.
“This is everything?”
“Everything I am taking.”
“That was not my question.”
“It is the answer.”
I disliked elegant people.
They made evasion look intentional.
The older woman was introduced as Miss Yue's aunt. She would travel with her, along with two servants.
The flute player would remain.
I glanced toward her.
“You aren't going?”
She shook her head.
“My mother is ill, Young Master.”
I looked again at the bundle in her hands.
I had assumed it was hers.
It wasn't.
“For Miss Yue?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
There was nothing useful to say.
Miss Yue noticed that I didn't try.
Servants began moving the first chest.
I pointed toward the qin.
“Put the qin in the carriage.”
Miss Yue looked at the chest.
“My clothes are in there.”
“Clothes can survive a cart.”
“And the qin cannot?”
I looked at the wrapped instrument.
“I've already lost to that thing once. I refuse to let a road finish the job.”
Qiao'er stepped forward and directed the servants before the argument could become expensive.
Miss Yue watched her.
“You brought Qiao'er.”
“I own the carriage. She knows what to do with it.”
That got a real smile.
Much better than winning the argument.
I wandered toward the open courtyard while the servants worked.
The residence had already changed.
A scroll missing from one wall.
A shelf emptied.
A flower pot left exactly where it had been because some things were not important enough to rescue.
This was the first household I had watched prepare to leave Luoyang.
Not Father's contingency.
Not numbers on Chen Lan's register.
A real person deciding what part of her life fit into two chests.
Miss Yue joined me.
“You were right.”
I looked at her.
“About?”
“The carts.”
Ah.
I preferred compliments about my face.
“Yesterday I had one for the usual price. This morning it belonged to an officer.”
“Officially?”
“I did not ask.”
Wise.
“The next man wanted three times the usual price.”
“Three times the usual price?”
“Yes.”
I looked at my carriage.
Miss Yue followed my eyes.
“No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were pricing it.”
Miss Yue smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“Do you still think I should go?”
There it was.
I had expected the question.
I still disliked it.
“I think if you stay because you want to stay, stay.”
She listened.
“If you leave because you want to leave, leave now.”
“And if I don't know?”
“Then congratulations. You're everyone.”
Her eyes softened slightly.
I looked back toward the servants.
“I don't know what happens next week.”
True.
“I don't know whether the road is dangerous tomorrow.”
Also true.
“I know you were already thinking of leaving before I opened my mouth. Now carts cost three times as much.”
I looked at her.
“If you change your mind, do it because you changed your mind. Not because I frightened you.”
Miss Yue was quiet.
Then she said, “I didn't.”
That mattered more than expected.
She looked toward her packed qin.
“I was frightened before you arrived.”
Ah.
That was worse.
We stood without speaking for a while.
The servants finished loading.
Qiao'er inspected the cords on the cart herself.
Miss Yue's aunt argued over something with the driver, won, and walked away before he could discover how.
I respected her immediately.
Then Miss Yue asked, “Were you busy today?”
“No.”
Qiao'er looked over from the cart.
I ignored her.
Miss Yue's eyes narrowed.
“You came quickly.”
“I am known for speed.”
“You rode a child's horse yesterday.”
Cruel woman.
“That information has traveled too far.”
“It came from Qiao'er.”
I turned toward Qiao'er.
She did not even pretend guilt.
“How much have you told her?”
“Very little.”
Miss Yue said, “Enough.”
This alliance was becoming dangerous.
I should separate them.
Possibly by several commanderies.
Miss Yue looked at my clothes.
“You were dressed for visiting.”
I looked down.
Damn.
Mother had selected the robe before the marriage meeting.
Or Qiao'er had.
Someone had.
It was nicer than necessary for lending a cart.
Miss Yue noticed everything.
“Where were you going?”
“Nowhere important.”
Qiao'er became extremely interested in the cart wheel.
I saw it.
“No.”
She straightened.
Miss Yue looked between us.
“Where?”
I could lie.
I had survived several days in 189 through lies.
I was improving rapidly.
“Marriage.”
Silence.
Miss Yue blinked.
Qiao'er closed her eyes.
I corrected myself.
“A marriage meeting.”
Miss Yue stared at me.
“A meeting about marriage?”
“No. A meeting with someone I might marry.”
This was getting worse with precision.
Miss Yue's expression did something complicated.
“You cancelled it?”
“Postponed.”
“For this?”
I gestured toward the cart.
“You needed it today.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then said, “Who?”
“Magistrate Wei's daughter.”
Recognition.
Naturally.
Every woman in Luoyang apparently knew every other woman except when I needed useful information.
“Have you met her?”
“Yes.”
Qiao'er spoke from behind me.
“He asked whether she had an elder sister.”
I turned.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Lady Wei's, briefly.”
Miss Yue covered her mouth.
Not laughter.
Shock.
Then the smile escaped anyway.
I pointed at Qiao'er.
“That conversation was private.”
“It happened at a banquet.”
“Different conversation.”
Miss Yue was now fully smiling.
My dignity had survived Dong Zhuo, Lü Bu, and imperial politics only to die in a courtyard beside luggage.
“She is beautiful,” Miss Yue said.
I looked at her.
“You know her?”
“I have seen her.”
“How beautiful?”
Qiao'er made a small sound.
I turned immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Say it.”
She looked at Miss Yue.
Then back at me.
“You cancelled the opportunity to find out.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Miss Yue looked away.
Even the aunt had stopped arguing with the driver.
Traitors everywhere.
“Fine.”
I turned toward the loaded carriage.
“Leave before I change my mind.”
Miss Yue looked back at me.
“About the carriage?”
“About being generous.”
“I'll remember your sacrifice.”
“Please remember the carriage.”
“That too.”
She bowed.
Not the polished bow she used when receiving a wealthy guest.
Smaller.
Private.
“Thank you, Dong Yu.”
My name.
Not Young Master.
That caught me strangely.
I nodded.
“Go.”
She did.
I stood with Qiao'er while the carriage rolled out through the gate.
Miss Yue looked back once.
I lifted a hand.
Then she was gone.
West.
One person moving in the correct direction.
Qiao'er stood beside me.
After a while, she said, “Madam will be angry about the robe.”
I looked down.
“What?”
“You wore it here.”
“This robe?”
“She chose it for Lady Du's gathering.”
“Why does that matter?”
Qiao'er looked at me.
Then toward the gate Miss Yue had just passed through.
I understood.
“Oh.”
A marriage robe.
At Miss Yue's residence.
“Can we never mention that?”
“No.”
“Can you lie?”
“Yes.”
Hope.
Qiao'er continued.
“Not that well.”
I sighed.
“Worth asking.”
Mother already knew.
I discovered this before I had removed the robe.
She was waiting in my rooms.
That was never good.
The bundle of bamboo slips sat beside her.
Even worse.
“Mother.”
“Yu'er.”
Very calm.
Dangerous.
I looked at Qiao'er.
She stepped into the room behind me and became the picture of household innocence.
Useless woman.
Mother said, “Madam Wei sent another message.”
I stopped.
“She knows?”
“Of course she knows.”
“How?”
Mother looked genuinely confused by the question.
“Lady Du knows Miss Yue's aunt.”
That was all.
The capital was doomed.
Not because of politics.
Because nobody could keep anything private.
“What did Madam Wei say?”
“She hopes another afternoon may be arranged.”
I waited.
“That is all?”
“No.”
Mother lifted the note.
“Her daughter asked whether you truly gave Miss Yue your carriage.”
I looked at Qiao'er.
“You told them?”
“I didn't tell anyone.”
That was somehow worse.
I turned to Mother.
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
I began to understand why she had used that tone earlier.
“And Lady Wei still wants to meet me?”
“Yes.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
Mother looked toward Qiao'er.
Not me.
Qiao'er understood something.
I could tell.
“What?”
She hesitated.
That interested me more.
Qiao'er rarely hesitated when the answer could injure me.
Finally she said, “Lady Wei asked something else.”
“What?”
“Whether you tried to persuade Miss Yue to remain in Luoyang.”
I stared.
“Why would I?”
Qiao'er said nothing.
Mother did.
“Because you like her.”
“That is precisely why I told her to leave.”
Silence.
I heard it after I said it.
Mother heard it too.
Qiao'er definitely heard it.
I frowned.
“What?”
Mother's expression had changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“She still wishes to meet you,” Mother said.
That made even less sense.
I looked at Qiao'er.
She looked away.
Not hiding laughter.
Thinking.
I disliked that much more.
“Women are very confusing.”
Mother's eyes returned to me.
“No, Yu'er.”
She stood.
“You have simply spent nineteen years looking at them instead of listening.”
Then she left.
I remained where I was.
Qiao'er adjusted the edge of my sleeve.
I looked at her.
“Was that an insult?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I understood it.”
A servant appeared at the doorway before she could answer.
Not one of Mother's people.
One of Father's runners.
Dust covered the hem of his robe.
He bowed immediately.
“Young Master. His Excellency asks for you.”
I looked toward the sky outside.
The sun had not even set.
“Tell him I have already attended government once today.”
The runner remained bowed.
“A dispatch arrived from Zhongmou.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Zhongmou.
The name struck much harder spoken aloud.
I knew that name.
I thought I knew what came next.
That was becoming a dangerous distinction.
The runner continued.
“County officers detained a traveler using another name.”
Qiao'er glanced toward me.
I didn't move.
“They believe he is Cao Mengde.”
Cao Cao.
Caught at Zhongmou.
That was right.
Probably.
Then he was released.
By...
Someone.
A magistrate?
A jailer?
Chen Gong?
No, Chen Gong was Romance.
Maybe.
Fuck.
For the first time that afternoon, Miss Yue, Lady Wei, Qiao'er's list and every other woman in Luoyang vanished from my thoughts.
That was how I knew Cao Cao had become a serious problem.