My gaze flicked to the mouth of the alley where the struggle began. The main lane was paved with stone slabs slick with evening dew, but a few crimson spots caught my eye.

  I knelt beside the girl, Miss Chen, my eyes scanning her for wounds. "Are you bleeding? Anything that could leave a trail?"

  She shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps, before wincing and favoring her left foot. I followed her gaze. She left a small, damning smear of red on the stone with every step.

  "No time," I muttered. I looked her in the eyes, my voice firm. "I'm going to carry you. Your footprints will get us caught."

  A flash of indignation crossed her face, but it was extinguished by the cold reality of our situation. She nodded.

  I used my foot to quickly scuff and obliterate the most obvious prints near the alley's mouth. Then, I stooped and lifted her. She was surprisingly light and bony, although that was to be expected of a fugitive, and she remained stiff in my arms, a rigid bundle of pride and fear. I covered her with my cloak. It made it look like I was carrying a child or a bundle of goods.

  "Xiao Qi, with me," I commanded.

  We didn't flee towards the main thoroughfares. Instead, I plunged deeper into the residential lanes we were already in, moving with a grim purpose. I cut through a small square where evening food stalls were still serving their last customers, our common shoe prints mingling with the tracks of dozens of others. I led us through a shallow, foul-smelling stream of wastewater draining from a laundry house, the murky water washing away any trace of our passage.

  Finally, we arrived at a simple, unmarked wooden door set into a high wall, the service entrance to the Feng estate's Eastern Wing. Here, my plan was to take advantage of existing plans. Xiao Qi produced a key and deftly unlocked the gate, ushering us through. The chaotic noise of the city vanished, replaced by the sudden, profound silence of my private courtyard.

  I set Miss Chen down gently, her back finding the cool stone of the wall for support. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her pale and trembling, but her eyes never left my face, her expression demanding answers.

  There was no time for explanations. The quiet sanctuary of the courtyard was now a nerve-wracking hiding place.

  "Xiao Qi," I commanded, my voice sharp and low. "Prepare a set of your old traveling clothes and get a bath going," I ordered him quietly. "By yourself, we don't want to drag anyone else into this."

  He understood immediately. A young woman in rags was a fugitive, but a slender boy in common clothes was just another face in the crowd. As he scurried to his room, I turned to the small charcoal brazier, feeding my scholar's outer robes and soft cloth shoes into the glowing embers. The fabric smoldered, hissed, and caught flame, the evidence of my presence turning to smoke and ash. Xiao Qi returned with a bundle of his old, coarse garments and, seeing my actions, added his own outer tunic to the small, desperate pyre.

  He nodded and disappeared towards the bathing chamber. I turned to the girl, who watched this frantic work of erasure with wide, shocked eyes.

  Xiao Qi filled the courtyard tub with warm water from the kitchen. I'd bathed more often than the usual denizen of the times so we'd started keeping a large warm, stone reservoir filled with boiled water in the evenings. Together we carried the tub into my study.

  "My lady," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Please bathe and change quickly. Add your old clothes to the fire. We can talk later."

  Her eyes flashed with the ingrained pride of her station, but then she looked at the fire consuming my robes, at my grim, determined face, and she understood. With a curt nod, she took the clothes and slipped into my study.

  A short while later, a new person emerged. The grime was gone, and her wet hair was hastily combed back. Dressed in Xiao Qi's old, loose-fitting tunic and trousers, she could pass for a delicate, handsome youth, a quiet, intense boy. I bandaged her foot, but we'd have to get her shoes later, Xiao Qi never owned any pair before the ones currently on his feet and mine were far too large for her. We now looked the part: Zhang Lin, a now down-on-his-luck clerk, with his young brother and attendant.

  "We're going to the Wayfarer's Rest," I announced. We couldn't stay here, as we'd surely be discovered by Feng's staff. Xiao Qi grabbed our pre-packed travel bundles we'd been preparing to use in our new identities.

  Just as we prepared to slip out the back gate, a deep, resonant BOOM echoed through the city, a vibration I felt in my bones. It was the evening drum, signaling the final closing of the ward gates for the night curfew, earlier than usual. A cold dread washed over me. My estate was in the southeastern XingNing Ward; the Wayfarer's Rest was miles away in the West Market. The gates between here and there were now barred.

  Thinking quickly I changed direction, I led us towards a nearby residential cluster. There, a single lantern glowed over a modest (but decidedly more expensive, given the area), two-story inn: the Quiet Willow Inn.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  I strode in, my entourage in tow. A sleepy-looking innkeeper looked up from his accounts. "A room for the night," I said, introducing myself as "Zhang Lin" and presenting the forged registration tablet Steward Feng had provided as well as a small lump of silver.

  He squinted at the tablet in the flickering lamplight. After a long moment, he gave a satisfied grunt. "Zhang Lin from Luoyang. Seems to be in order." He pushed a heavy wooden key across the counter. "Second floor, third door on the right. Seventy copper coins."

  Once inside the spacious, clean room, I slid the heavy wooden bolt across the door. The girl stood with her back to the door, her eyes demanding the explanation I had promised.

  The silence stretched. "So," I said, breaking it with a wry, tired smile. "It looks like we are in the same boat."

  "An accurate assessment," she replied.

  "Where did you learn your martial arts?" I asked, mentally cycling through the fantastic tales of my old world. Her style was brutally economical, designed to cripple.

  Her guard went back up instantly. "My father was the Regional Inspector of LuoYang," she said, a hint of the proud nobleman's daughter returning. "He had many friends… and many enemies. He insisted his daughter learn how to protect herself from both." It was a non-answer. She turned the tables, her gaze piercing. "You knew my name. You helped my family on the road. Who are you?"

  "Zhang RuLin, at your service," I said, giving her a curt bow and tossing her a gourd of water from my travel bundle. "Your father was certainly unusual for a civil official. I'm afraid I don't know your family beyond what you've seen." I paused. "What should I call you? I can't exactly go around saying 'Lady Chen.'"

  She caught the gourd with a fluid motion and drank deeply. "Zhang RuLin," she repeated, testing the name. "My father was a practical man. He knew an official's robes were no protection against a blade." She took another long drink. "You gave me these clothes," She gestured to herself. "I am your shūtóng, a study attendant, Xiao Kai. For now, that is who I must be."

  "So, Zhang RuLin," she said, her gaze intense. "What is our next move?"

  "We lay low for a few days," I said grimly. "Meld into the locale. Hopefully, whoever is looking for you will look further away." I handed her a hard flatbread. "Eat slowly. It's probably been a while."

  While she ate, I took stock of our hastily gathered supplies: a few scrolls, a pouch of silver, nearly 25 taels, an inkstone, some pencils, the utility knife, and the last of our flatbreads.

  She finished the bread, her eyes locked on mine. "You said we are in the same boat?" she asked.

  Your compassion is a liability.

  The thought hit me like a hammer and drove the words from my lungs. I remembered those eyes looking back at me from the dust of a long road.

  I remembered the children in chains. Their little hands bound and bleeding for no fault of their own.

  And I remembered being powerless to free them. In that moment I'd thought myself satisfied to know I couldn't have helped them, I would have been stopped.

  But that didn't quell the unrest in my heart.

  Fate had given me another chance. I wasn't going to fail her twice.

  "The bailiffs might have seen my face, I'm an accomplice in your escape. Besides," I added with wry honesty, "I don't think I'd survive the attempt to turn you in." A shiver ran down my spine as I recalled the sickening crunch of the bailiff's neck. I leaned against the wall. "What was your plan?"

  A bitter laugh escaped her. "My plan was to find justice. My father was not corrupt. He was framed." Her eyes flashed. "I was trying to reach Censor Wang. He served with my father years ago. I hoped he was an honorable man." The fight finally drained out of her. "But his estate is a fortress and the guards kept driving me off. The bailiffs found me while I was trying to find a way in. I have nowhere else to go."

  The name Censor Wang struck a chord. I recalled his file from Lord Feng's library: a man of integrity, but politically cautious, with no strong factional allegiance. A man who followed the rules to a fault. Perfect for the censorate, which was basically the internal affairs department for the empire.

  "I can see what I can find out," I said gently. "But Censor Wang is likely avoiding implication himself. That is why his doors are closed to you." I pressed on. "Did your father belong to any faction in the capital?"

  "No," she said. "That was the problem. He was investigating irregularities in the grain shipments from the south. He believed someone high up in the Ministry of Revenue was diverting public grain for private profit. He was preparing his memorial to the Censorate when he was arrested." Her face was filled with grief. "They destroyed him before he could speak."

  The Ministry of Revenue. The name connected Magistrate Wu's corruption to this high-level conspiracy. But fitting perhaps, the corrupt are drawn to money. Only the Ministry of Personnel and Works were historically better places to embezzle.

  "I could see if I can help you with that," I offered.

  "You would truly do that?" she asked, a fragile hope in her eyes, "But how? His guards turned me away before I could even state my purpose, and they knew me."

  I gave a rueful smile. "Right now, as the escaped daughter of a condemned official, your name closes doors. My face, for now, is unknown. I think we first need to become someone a person like Censor Wang wants to see." I gestured to the room's only bed. "But that is a plan for tomorrow." I motioned to the double-sized bed in the corner of the room. "You take the bed. You need the rest."

  "Master Zhang, I cannot," she said, her back stiffening "I am your attendant. It would be improper."

  I gently pinched her upper arm. It was thin and wiry. "You are our main fighting force," I stated as she protested. "Your recovery is more important for our survival than keeping up appearances." To contrast this act I gave her a formal, respectful bow. "And you are a lady. I regret that this is the best I can do."

  Seeing her resistance falter, I politely asked, "What is your age?"

  "I am seventeen," she said quietly.

  "Then I am your elder too. You should listen to your elders" I said with a victorious smile "and with age comes experience."

  Scanning the room, I found no hooks. Taking a spare blanket and my utility knife, I climbed onto the stool and wedged the blade's tip firmly into the wall. Draping the blanket between it and the bed leg created a crude triangular curtain, separating the bed from the rest of the room.

  I pushed the room's table in front of the door and out of sight of the bed behind the curtain. I sat down there, my hand resting on the Jian I laid before me on the table. In the fragile privacy of the darkness, exhaustion finally claimed me in a blissfully dreamless night. I awoke with a start to the sounds of the city stirring. Faint morning light filtered through the latticed window.