Page 47 of Silk and Sensibility

His departure out of the courtyard seemed to take all the air with him. Meilin’s chest tightened as her heart shattered.

“Teacher Meilin, are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Meilin gasped for breath. She could not lose her composure before the child. That would be unfair.

“I’m glad that man is gone now,” Sandy said matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?” Meilin thought she misheard.

“My uncle says he’s a bad man, and I’m not supposed to be near him.”

“Is that so?” Meilin knew Captain Bai was a protective guardian, but filling a child’s mind with prejudice seemed excessive.

“Did that man make you sad, Teacher Meilin? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Do I?” Meilin blinked her eyes several times. How embarrassing that Sandy had noticed!

Sandy pulled at the handkerchief pinned to her blouse in case she had a runny nose. “I wish I could let you borrow this.”

“That is very sweet of you, but I’ll be fine.” Meilin smiled through the tears that threatened to fall. Her heart pulled toward where Master Wei had gone, but there was still the rest of Sandy’s zither lesson to get through.

“We can end early today if you need, ma’am. My uncle isn’t working today, so I can go straight home from here.”

Though Meilin appreciated Sandy’s thoughtfulness, she couldn’t stand the idea of sending the child home early. Captain Bai would certainly ask questions, and once he found out that Master Wei interrupted Sandy’s lesson, he might be disappointed with Meilin’s teaching. That possibility was worse than holding back her emotions for another half hour.

She shook her head. “Let’s keep working on your song. We need to make up for the time we missed when we had our visitor.”

Sandy obediently followed Meilin’s suggestion, for which she was grateful. Music, at least, gave her something to focus on besides the devastating news of Master Wei’s departure. Even so, perhaps “focus” was too strong a word. Meilin could barely hold herself together as she demonstrated how to play the next notes of the song she was teaching.

“Flowing Water” was the second half of one of the most famous pieces in existence. It was the song that cemented the legendary friendship of master zitherist Bóyá and the humble woodcutter Zǐqī. It was the test through which Zǐqī proved that he understood Bóyá’s music perfectly, no matter what he played. As Sandy plucked her way through the song, Meilin thought about the legend’s ending, in which Bóyá broke his zither after learning of Zǐqī’s death.

Nobody was dying here, but the uncertainty of the future felt as distressing as death. The jade tiger pendant felt heavy on the skin next to her heart.

She loved Master Wei, and yet, he’d left without a word on when he would return. She didn’t know what that meant. Betrothal gifts didn’t matter to her, but commitment did, and if Master Wei wasn’t committed enough to make her a promise, did that mean he didn’t love her as much as she thought?

Surely that’s not the case.

Later, when Captain Bai came to pick up Sandy, he stared at her face longer than necessary. “Are you all right, Miss Meilin?” he asked, concern in his voice.

Meilin felt herself wilting under his scrutiny but decided to stay strong. “I’m perfectly fine. Sandy played beautifully during her lesson today.”

“Master Wei came by to say that he’s leaving for a long time, so Teacher Meilin was sad for a bit.” Sandy’s bluntness dashed Meilin’s hopes of avoiding the issue.

Captain Bai’s face turned into a storm cloud. “Is that true?”

Meilin tried to evince calm despite her turbulent feelings. Unlike earlier, there was no point in hiding what had happened. She had made up for the time lost during the interruption to Sandy’s lesson, so she didn’t need to be ashamed. “It is true.”

Captain Bai’s brows knitted together. He didn’t move when Sandy picked up her own zither, a task he usually helped with to avoid damaging the expensive instrument.

Meilin moved to help the child instead, carefully wrapping the zither in a silk bag and then holding it out to Captain Bai.

He abruptly snapped back to attention. “Are you upset about him leaving, Miss Meilin? Because . . .” He trailed off as if the words had stuck in his throat.

“Do you need a drink?”

“No. I—” He paused again. The hesitation was obviously deliberate this time, and there was a strange swirl of anguish in his dark eyes. Was he pitying her? The thought made Meilin uncomfortable.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. She wanted respect from him, not pity. “Please don’t worry about me. The matter does not concern you.”