Stunned, Mergen thought to chase after him, but he’d already disappeared down the stairs. For some reason, Mergen felt a touch of guilt and dismay, as if he’d unwittingly hurt Lu Xu.
The evening drums had stopped. Wading through the chatter downstairs, Hongjun exited the tavern.
“Stop asking,” he said as Li Jinglong trailed after him. “I’m not telling you!”
“Are you leaving?” Lu Xu swept down the stairs as swiftly as the wind, carrying Hongjun’s packed bag. He tossed it to Hongjun, who secured it to his horse’s saddle.
Li Jinglong glanced around. Finding only Lu Xu, he said, “Don’t bother the others. We’re heading out of the city.”
“Be careful,” Lu Xu said to Hongjun, who nodded and mounted his horse. Mergen, still standing by the eaves on the second floor, whistled down at them.
“I’ll leave Chang’an to all of you!” Li Jinglong called up to him.
Mergen raised two fingers in a salute as Li Jinglong set his heels to his horse’s sides. Hongjun had already ridden off, leaving Li Jinglong behind.
The carp yao scampered out holding a wok and spatula. “But you haven’t even had dinner!”
“You always do this,” Li Jinglong shouted as he chased after Hongjun. “Can’t you stop running away?”
Hongjun slowed his horse and turned back to look at Li Jinglong. “I’ll stop if you promise not to ask.”
“Fine,” Li Jinglong conceded. “I won’t ask a single question until you’re ready to tell me about it.”
Satisfied, Hongjun at last allowed Li Jinglong to come up alongside him. It was past curfew in Chang’an. The city was on high alert, but the order for Li Jinglong’s arrest hadn’t spread beyond the Longwu Guard. They were fortunate; perhaps Li Longji had decided on a more merciful approach on Yang Guozhong’s advice. If Li Jinglong had been formally prosecuted for deceiving the emperor, there would be no going back.
Li Jinglong led them toward the city’s eastern gate, where he showed his token to the sentries. A moment later, a flurry of sneezes rang out as he tossed out a sprinkle of oblivion pollen. He opened the gates himself, and he and Hongjun shot out of the city.
Only when they were surrounded by the vast, uninhabited plains did they gradually slow their pace, Hongjun still in front while Li Jinglong took up the rear. Hongjun turned back to glance at Li Jinglong from time to time, remembering the night Li Jinglong had chased him out of Dunhuang in the snow.
The moon poured its light over the green rice fields by the roads, which rustled as the wind blew. Li Jinglong had stopped trying to catch up to Hongjun once they were out of the city. Hongjun reined his horse to a halt, waiting for him, but Li Jinglong stopped as well, maintaining their distance.
“What’s with you?” Hongjun called.
“What do you think?” Li Jinglong replied curtly.
Hongjun fell silent. “Let’s go,” he said.
Li Jinglong’s eyes were alight with anger. Hongjun knew he was upset, but he stood firm nonetheless. He had his own reasons for not telling him. Learning the truth would only make Li Jinglong upset, and what was the point in that?
“I don’t want to tell you because—”
“Stop,” Li Jinglong said. “I promised I wouldn’t ask.”
“Let’s go, then.” Hongjun steered his horse back around.
They rode a while longer. Hongjun quickly found himself flagging. Leaving the city at night meant they were less likely to be arrested, but this overnight ride was taking its toll on him, and Li Jinglong riding so far behind made it worse.
“Let’s find somewhere to rest for the night,” Hongjun called. “I’m tired.”
There was no response from behind him. Hongjun tried again. “How about that village up ahead?”
He looked beseechingly back at Li Jinglong. He wanted to mend things after refusing to tell him about the dream, but he didn’t know how.
“You always say I don’t tell you anything,” Li Jinglong said. “But you do that too. Have you ever thought about how I feel?”
“It’s different.”
“How so?”
“You promised you wouldn’t ask.”
“I’m not asking. We’re talking about something else entirely now, aren’t we?”
Their gazes met. Li Jinglong’s brows were drawn low; he was obviously still cross. Hongjun urged his horse forward and grabbed his hand. “Don’t be upset.”
“How will you make it up to me, then?”
Hongjun had no idea how to cheer someone up. He usually resorted to telling the truth, but that wasn’t an option right now. He studied Li Jinglong. “What do you want me to do?”
“Later, when we’re alone—I want to go the rest of the way.”
Hongjun nodded. “Okay.”
They rode in silence a while longer, Li Jinglong now only a few paces behind Hongjun. Hongjun turned back to look at him. Noticing that his stormy expression had cleared somewhat, he said, “We’re alone now.”
“What can we possibly do out here in the middle of nowhere?”
They journeyed onward until they arrived at a village just as dawn was breaking. Beyond the village, a pier packed with people and boats stretched into the river.
“Why aren’t we riding?” Hongjun asked. “Won’t it be faster if we follow Hangu Road?”
“The relay stations around Hangu Pass are full of An Lushan and Yang Guozhong’s spies,” Li Jinglong replied. “We’ll be spotted immediately.”
At this time of the year, the ships traveling the Wei and Yellow rivers only carried goods, not passengers. He motioned for Hongjun to wait while he talked to a bowsman standing beside a cargo ship. After some agreement was made, Li Jinglong walked the pier and stopped to purchase a small box, which he tucked into his lapels. He then took out a handful of silver and told Hongjun to lead their horses aboard, warning him not to speak.
Pocketing the silver, the bowsman led them toward the stern of the ship. “Travel by boat is slower than horseback, but the journey will be a smooth one. Rest well, sirs; feel free to call for me if you need anything. Follow the cabins all the way down—your quarters are at the very end there.”
It was Hongjun’s first time aboard a ship, and he was fascinated by everything. This ship, which carried a sizable load of cargo, was a refurbished dragon boat originally built for Emperor Yang of the Sui dynasty. After the first emperor of the Tang dynasty ascended the throne, the Li family had wanted to burn Emperor Yang’s fleet of over a hundred ships. Only the intervention of Wei Zheng, a trusted official, saved the vessels. At his suggestion, the late emperor’s dragon boats were refitted into cargo ships used to transport goods and merchandise. During Emperor Yang’s reign, carpenters from all over the nation were enlisted to build these ships from wood of the highest quality. Although they’d required occasional repairs in the century that followed, they nevertheless remained miraculously intact and could still sail up and down the Yellow River.
The massive ship they’d boarded had six floors. It was loaded full of wares unsuited to bumpy carriage rides, such as grain, wine, and ceramics. The stern was occupied by an enormous cabin with six windows, a wide bed pushed against one wall, and a folding screen that separated the chamber into an inner and outer area. A carpet covered the floor in the outer area, atop which sat a table with an incense burner. This cabin was presumably intended for the use of imperial officials tasked with supervising certain shipments.
“This room’s so—” Hongjun had just stepped inside when Li Jinglong pulled him into a bruising kiss.
“Let me look around first!” Hongjun said, quickly extricating himself. He clambered onto the bed—noting a large mirror beside it—and opened the windows one by one. Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten, and goods were being loaded onto the ship. He left the windows open and pulled down the gauze curtains, admitting a refreshing breeze into the room.
Li Jinglong turned to latch the door and shed his outer robes and bracers. After sitting on the bed, he couldn’t wait even a second longer; he pushed Hongjun down and whispered, “Hurry up. I want you so much I could die.”
Hongjun had no idea how to respond as Li Jinglong pulled him into his arms. “I’m still mad,” Li Jinglong said. “What are you going to do about it?”
Laughing, Hongjun cupped Li Jinglong’s cheek in his hand and kissed him. Li Jinglong fell silent, eyes wide, as his breathing quickened. Hongjun’s lips moved clumsily against his own, his inexperience evident, but blood rushed so quickly to Li Jinglong’s head he felt dizzy. He pinned Hongjun to the bed and kissed him back.