Page 4 of Silk and Sensibility

But the man did not simply pass by. Rather, he drew to a stop next to them. “Excuse me, but do you ladies know if this is the way to Nuolan Garden, the house of the late Scholar Duan?”

Begonia gasped, while Ailin tried to keep her expression neutral. Even though she’d been caught off guard, she couldn’t let herself be fazed by this stranger’s desire to find her family’s house. Nuolan Garden had had few visitors since Father’s death.

Up close, the man looked younger than Ailin had expected, perhaps in his early twenties. His features were soft, and his long robes hung well over his tall frame, though the threadbare fabric looked too thin, as if it could be swept away by the wind. Books peeked out of the donkey’s saddlebags.

“May I ask why you’re headed to Nuolan Garden, sir?” Ailin asked calmly, despite her apprehension. If she could find out more about him without revealing her own identity, then the secret of her outing would be protected even if he was visiting her house.

The man smiled. The congenial expression caught Ailin by surprise, which quickly turned to distrust. As a young lady who tried to observe the rules of virtuous womanhood, she had never met any young gentlemen of marriageable age in person before, but she had always held the opinion that smiles were for rogues. They had no place outside of the romances her younger sister Meilin liked to read. What business did any honest man have to smile at a stranger as if they were a friend?

“My name is Fan Enze. I’m on my way to visit my older sister Fan Fulan, the wife of Master Duan Junyou of Nuolan Garden.”

The puzzle pieces in Ailin’s mind fell into place as she realized the man before her was none other than the brother that Fulan had told the household to make room for, so he could study for the imperial exams undisturbed by them. Annoyance and indignation flickered in Ailin’s chest. Not only was Fan Enze being welcomed even as her beloved Nurse Liu was being driven away, but he was also arriving earlier than expected.

“This is the correct way to Nuolan Garden,” she replied crisply. Then, begrudgingly, she reminded herself that resentment was unproductive and that she should be polite. “The estate is about two lǐ uphill. When you see a ginkgo tree peering over a bamboo fence, you will have arrived.”

“Thank you for the directions.” Fan Enze bowed with his hands clasped, surprisingly respectful considering that Ailin and Begonia were dressed like servants. He paused his bow, and Ailin looked down, following his gaze.

Her scuffed cloth shoes were peeking out from beneath her skirt. Why must Fulan’s brother be so irritatingly observant? Embarrassed, she quickly adjusted the fabric to cover her shoes, but when her eyes met Fan Enze’s again, she noticed a strange tint of concern in them.

“I hope you’ll forgive my impertinence, miss, but from down the hill, I noticed you seemed to be in pain as you were walking. If you’re going the same way, may I offer you a ride?”

Shocked by his forwardness, Ailin glanced at Begonia for support.

He caught the exchange and blushed. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’s just that the weather is likely to turn to rain soon, and I thought I could help a little, if you needed . . .”

Fan Enze’s rambling chipped away at Ailin’s determination to dislike him. If he was a selfish man, then he would not offer help to a woman he didn’t know. If he was a rogue used to taking advantage of women, then his articulation would be smoother. Ailin hadn’t expected Fulan’s brother to be so unpolished—or so selfless.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, filling Ailin with foreboding. She could already imagine walking through the rain, her feet aching as her slippers squelched through sticky mud.

Ailin looked at Fan Enze again and made an uncharacteristically hasty decision. “Thank you, sir. I would be grateful for your assistance.”

He led the donkey closer to her so she could climb onto it while holding her box, and he offered his hand to steady her. The moment their palms touched, heat shocked through Ailin’s arm. Against her sensitive skin, his hand felt calloused, unexpected for a scholar.

Flustered, she drew her hand away as fast as she could, but she couldn’t tell if it was too soon or too late. She had never been in such close proximity to a man outside her family. The newness of the experience unsettled her.

For his part, Fan Enze showed no signs of being fazed at all. His unruffled demeanor suggested a clear conscience, that he only meant to help, not to make improper advances. Ailin wished she could bring herself to his level of placidity.

The donkey began moving again, sliding into a steady rhythm. Ailin took deep breaths while she balanced the box of hidden silver on her lap. Fan Enze led the donkey, with Begonia following behind on foot. Even with the donkey’s slow pace, they made their way uphill much faster than when she and Begonia had been walking on their own.

Ailin’s feet still ached, but now that she was not actively exerting herself, the pain felt lighter. Despite her continued apprehensions about Fan Enze, she wondered if she should count herself lucky to have met him.

“What are your names?” he asked as they moved.

Ailin rushed to think of an answer. She and Begonia had to hide their identities flawlessly so Fulan and Junyou wouldn’t find out about their trip. “It would be better if you didn’t know our names, Master Fan. We both work at Nuolan Garden, and our mistress would be displeased to know that we met you today without her approval.”

Fan Enze tilted his head, his warm brown eyes holding the same sympathetic concern she’d seen earlier. “Who is your harsh mistress? Perhaps I could put in a good word for you with my sister so you won’t get in trouble. Her opinion should have some weight in the household.”

Ailin silently noted the irony of his statement but shook her head and maintained her line.

“All right, then.” Fan Enze nodded empathetically. “The secret of our meeting is safe with me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ailin said.

After about an incense stick’s worth of time spent in silence, the rain finally made its appearance, pelting the maples like drums and turning the dirt path to mud. Ailin was about to ask Begonia for an umbrella when the shadow of another stretched over her head.

Fan Enze extended a large umbrella toward her, its oil-paper covering plain but sturdy against the pattering rain. The umbrella fit its owner, whose hand was so close to her face that she noticed his cold-reddened knuckles wrapped around the wooden handle.

“Would you mind carrying this for me?” he asked. “I would hate for my books to get wet.”