safe location for the night. A woman on her own had to be careful of these things.
There were two worlds beyond the solitude of Wudang Mountain. There was the realm of the cities, an orderly and structured place separated by walls and governed by law. A gong dictated what time merchants were to bring their wares to market and when to close up shop and go home. Then there was another world alongside it. A place of roads and dust and dark city corners that didn’t adhere to the same boundaries. The inhabitants here were dancers and musicians, monks and beggars. This was also the world where smugglers and bandits operated.
An unspoken fellowship existed among those that travelled the roads for the sake of both companionship and protection. When Li Feng left her shifu, she had met up with a dance troupe that travelled from village to village. Sword dancing had become popular with the crowds, and with some practice she had executed one that was entertaining enough that the performers welcomed her into the fold.
With the dance, a part of her had reawakened. Mother had been a dancer, she was certain of it. Li Feng had a memory of her in colourful costumes: a princess in mourning, a flying goddess, a flower bearer. Li Feng could almost hear a firm, but gentle voice from long ago, telling her to hold her head high and keep her back straight, her toes pointed.
She also remembered travelling with her family as a child. They would sleep under a different roof every night or sometimes beneath the stars with Mother curled up beside her. She had had a father, too, but his face was blurred and faded like all the others in her memory. She was afraid that if she didn’t come back and reclaim her own past, one day her mother’s face would fade as well.
When she had joined Bao Yang in his campaign against the warlord, that struggle had momentarily taken the place of her determination to find her family. She had nothing tangible to connect her to the past except for a few vague descriptions of hills and rivers from Wen shifu and a jade carving that her mother had pressed into her hands.
A carving that had been a complete mystery to her until now.
The inside of the jade shop was undecorated other than the figurines and trinkets gleaming on the counter. The shopkeeper who greeted her was also dressed in a plain brown robe. No one trusted a shopkeeper who looked like he made too much of a profit.
‘Miss.’ His respectful tone tapered off as he eyed her up and down. He was likely accustomed to wealthier customers and her plain tunic failed to impress.
Li Feng glanced over the array of bracelets and finery. She had been in so many of these shops in the last days that she was nearly an expert herself.
She pulled out the carved pendant from her sash. ‘Sir, can you tell me more about this?’
It was an oblong tablet that fit easily in the palm of her hand. A magnificent bird was carved on to it, with wings spread in flight. A red tassel adorned one end. Years of being kept close to her body had changed the creamy jade to a deeper, richer colour.
The shopkeeper held the pendant up and his eyes lit momentarily, just long enough for her to catch the interest in them, before his expression became hooded.
‘Not very high quality,’ he said, affecting a tone of ennui. ‘I can give you twenty cash and that’s generous.’
Did he think she was a child of three? ‘It wasn’t my intention to sell. There is an inscription on the back of the jade that I was told someone here might recognise—’
He shook his head and pushed the jade back to her. ‘That is my final offer, young miss.’
This sort only cared about the number of coins in his drawer at the end of the day. Perplexed, Li Feng picked up the pendant and wove around the counter. She ignored his squawk of protest as she pushed through a beaded curtain.
An elderly craftsman sat at a table in the workroom in back. He was busy polishing a statuette of a dragon with a pearl in its mouth. He paused to look up at her with mild interest while his hands remained poised over the pale-green stone.
‘Honourable sir,’ she began. ‘If you would kindly look on the back of this pendant. I was told by the jade carver in Quantou village that you might be of assistance.’
He looked her over just as the shopkeeper had, but the craftsman took the jade and turned it over in his hands with care.
‘Nanyang jade,’ he proclaimed. ‘The carving depicts the Vermilion Bird. Most likely part of a set of four.’
Her heart thudded with excitement. She had indeed seen three others in the same style and with the same inscription on the back, an inscription she didn’t recognise. Bao Yang had noticed her strange look when they had sifted through the stolen treasure. He had offered the set of three to her as a gift as they had been at odds at the time. It always seemed that they were in disagreement about one thing or another during their brief liaison.
Li Feng had no interest in any of the riches from the heist. Bao Yang’s rebellion against General Wang had started to appear more and more like a personal feud. Coming across that set of jade had been fate, if one believed in such things.
The old man held the pendant up, squinting at the corner. ‘The artist inscribed it with his name.’
Li Feng leaned in close, waiting as patiently as she could to hear more, but instead of continuing, the craftsman glanced up at her.
‘I know who you are.’
‘You do?’ Her pulse skipped and her deepest dreams beckoned from the shadows. Maybe this man had known her family. She was about to find the answer to a riddle. To her riddle. Where she came from. Who she was.
‘You stole this,’ he accused.
Her hope shrivelled to dust. ‘I didn’t steal it. It’s mine.’
The craftsman ignored her protest and started shouting for the shopkeeper. Li Feng darted forwards to snatch the jade from his fingers before hurrying out the front door.
The street outside was thick with activity. Painted signboards marked each shop and wares were displayed out in the street to entice customers. She slipped into the crowd, matching the shuffling pace of those around her though her heart pounded insistently, telling her to run. At any moment, she expected to hear the merchant from the jade shop shouting after her. ‘Thief! You stole it!’
But he was wrong. This jade pendant was the one thing that belonged to her. Her mother had put it into her hands with her final parting words. ‘Don’t cry, Xiao Feng. Don’t cry.’
Little phoenix, don’t cry. Those hadn’t been words of comfort. Her mother was giving her a desperate plea and a warning. Li Feng remembered that she and her mother were running from someone, but she couldn’t remember why.
Her current hideout was a hovel a short distance from the main road. The roof was missing shingles and the wooden structure was overgrown with moss. Such a place had once provided shade, drink and a convenient place to rest one’s horse on the journey between cities. Now it provided her temporary shelter from the wind and rain.
Li Feng took care before returning. She held back and led her horse on a meandering path through the woods outside the city until she was confident that no one followed her. The sun was setting as she ventured back to the abandoned tavern. This stretch of road had become a hunting ground for bandits, according to local gossip, and was treacherous for travellers day
