Chapter Text
It was far too late for Lan Zhan to be out alone.
Late enough for the dragon supported street lamps along Grant Ave to be competing with the famous San Francisco fog. Though, Lan Zhan supposed, at this point one could argue it was early instead of late. Somehow, arguing over the semantics didn’t settle her nerves as it normally would.
If she had her sister beside her, it would have been a different matter. Their heels would have clicked against the fog-damp pavement together, the sound transforming into a shield as it caused the men around them to scurry out of their way. Now the wet clicks of her satin heels felt more like a beacon. The gazes that with her sister felt revenant now felt lecherous. Lan Zhan almost wished the fog would turn into rain, just to wash their looks off.
Instead she settled for wrapping her white fur wrap tighter around herself.
And curse the very reason she was out here in the first place! She searched for it now, the faded red calling card still a stark contrast against the white of Lan Zhan’s fur. It was double-sided, one in familiar Chinese characters and the other in English, the gilded letters loudly proclaiming, ‘The Honorable Lady Wei Ying.’
Lan Zhan didn’t know how ‘honorable’ a lady could be if the easiest way to find her was to go to a speakeasy in the middle of the night.
Then again, Lan Zhan really couldn’t cast judgment when she was going to the woman to ask for help. She paused in the last pool of lamplight, staring off into the dark alley. Her hand tightened around the calling card.
She could turn back. Go home, hang her stockings over the radiator, and they'd be dry before her sister woke up. If she turned back now, no one would be the wiser. There was no guarantee her mistake would come back to haunt her.
But Lan Zhan refused to walk on eggshells.
Her heels clacked against the cobblestones of the alley as she started down it. She counted off the doorways as she was instructed, only to find a distinct lack of door where she’d been told one would be.
She stood there for a moment, staring at where her door should be. Instead, all that faced her was a smaller, more decrypt alleyway. Her hands tightened on her fur. She hadn’t accounted for this. The speakeasy was supposed to be here. She was supposed to go in, find this Wei Ying woman, get her to help with her problem, and then they’d part ways.
Lan Zhan let out a low exhale as she adjusted her fur. She’d already come all the way out here. She wouldn’t have it said that she didn’t leave any stone unturned. Debris crunched under the bottoms of her deep blue satin heels as she stepped into the alleyway. Her eyes systematically searched the dimly lit space, trailing over the dirty walls and shadowed doorways. Just as she was about to give up, there at the end of the alleyway, she saw it.
A red paper lantern, swaying slightly.
It cast a glow on the flight of stairs leading down, a bright red metal door at the base. Barely visible in the lantern's light, Lan Zhan could make out a fading sign reading Dafan Apothecary.
Almost like the auntie had said.
The red door swung open with a chime of bells, not that it woke the pot-bellied aging man asleep behind the high counter. Lan Zhan approached the counter, eyeing the man. She cleared her throat, but the man remained asleep. Casting a glance around, Lan Zhan’s eyes fell to a bell. Her gloved finger reached out.
“Wait-what?” The elderly man jerked awake, slurring the exclamations in the dialect Lan Zhan thought might be Zhongyuan. The bleary eyes blinked, clearing the sleep but not the fog of cataracts.
“ To be free of envy and aspire to greater heights,” Lan Zhan hoped the man was awake enough to understand her native Suzhou dialect. Her school had stressed English as her second language, putting the other Chinese dialects by the wayside. For a moment, she feared she would have to attempt it. Or maybe the auntie had been wrong about the password; it was incredibly strange for their purposes.
Only for the old man to smile.
“Not be misguided by honorary reputation and personal gain,” His voice cracked like an old radio. A hand reached out to pull on a rope. Lan Zhan spun as she heard the creaking of a hinge, her eyes widening as she saw a trap door rise.
She recognized the strum of a pipa, matched with the brassy notes of a jazz horn in the shidaiqu style that seemed to be all the rage on both sides of the Pacific. Lan Zhan looked back to the old man, who only smiled and gestured for her to move down.
Minding her step, Lan Zhan navigated her way down. Her glove slid down the railing, the weight of it lightning as she found the steps solid. By the time she reached the bottom, it was as if she had stepped into Wonderland. Music and cigarette smoke created a low lying haze across the room, but it did little to dull the shine of the mahjong tiles, dice, and roulette wheels. Bottles shone from behind a gilded bar, framed by curling dragons. The band played from a small stage, though no room had been cleared for dancing.
They’d need women for dancing. And one quick survey of the room was enough to prove they were in short supply. The room was a sea of dark clothes, whether it be western-styled or changpao. The few flashes of color came from a head of blond or red hair, not a woman's jacket or qipao dress.
Which made Lan Zhan in her white fur and deep blue qipao stand out all the more. Before one of the men eyeing her could reach her, she stopped a young man. He was on the waifish side, a few inches shorter than Lan Zhan even without her heels. Since his red changpao matched the one of the man standing behind the bar, she figured it was a good bet that he was some sort of worker.
“C-can I help you?” The boy stammered in English.
“ I’m looking for a Lady,” Lan Zhan replied in her native dialect, the boy letting out a sigh of relief at the sound. A smile curved his lips as he saw the card Lan Zhan offered.
“ She’s at the bar .” He gestured. Lan Zhan’s eyes narrowed as she tried to peer through the smoke, only to widen as she found the form perched on the far edge of the bar.
She wondered how she could have missed her in the first place. She was like a beacon of clarity in the bar, which might have been due to the spider lily-embroidered fan she was using to idly waft the smoke away from herself.
She sat perfectly poised in a black qipao, her back to Lan Zhan. It gave her the perfect opportunity to drag her eyes the length of the woman, from the tips of her t-strap shoes to the lacquered comb keeping her low bun in place. Light caught on the martini glass as she raised it to her lips, her black gloved thumb sweeping away the red lipstick. The ease of which marked it as a habit, and not a practiced move.
Lan Zhan made sure she had a good grip on her fur as she descended into the crowd. What she’d thought was a clear path quickly proved false. Her gaze was forced from the woman at the bar by necessity to keep her feet from being stepped on. She volleyed the surprised sounds at her presence back with cold glares, and the apologies with a tilt of her head. It was a miracle she made it through the room with her toes intact.
Just as she opened her mouth-
“You know, I thought Li He had you there in the end.” Her voice was somehow as clear as a bell, even with the music and chatter of the tables.
Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed. How had she seen? Lan Zhan’s eyes caught on a flash of white, only to realize it was the reflection of her own fur in the mirror behind the bar. Her eyes caught on a pair of dark eyes next, sparkling with mischief.
“I’m surprised. From the way you froze on the stairs, I half expected to have to save you during your walk over.” The woman’s head turned. A smirk pulled at her lips, her fan just low enough to allow Lan Zhan to see it.
At first Lan Zhan thought she was speaking in her own Suzhou dialect, but now Lan Zhan realized she was speaking Shanghainese. It fit. Lan Zhan’s eyes ran the length of the woman again. Her black qipao was well-tailored in a similar way to Lan Zhan’s, no doubt ordered just as Lan Zhan’s was from Shanghai. Lan Zhan was surprised to find the fitted style becoming more popular, but she supposed that was the Western influence seeping into China.
Fitting since they were here, seeping into the United States in turn.
“Honorable Lady Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan shifted their conversation to English, her fingers holding up the red calling card.
“Most around here would probably question the ‘honorable’ part.’ Her smile grew wider. She followed Lan Zhan into English, her tone crisp but carrying an accent Lan Zhan had yet to encounter here. “But I am at your service, Miss…?”
“Lan Zhan,” Lan Zhan introduced herself.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeated. There was a lilt to the way she said it, the kind that sent a heat flushing down Lan Zhan’s spine. A heat that only grew as her eyes drifted to the red painted lips, only jumping away from them as Wei Ying’s gloved hand brushed against hers to take her calling card.
Lan Zhan felt her ears heat, no doubt flushing as red as the woman’s lips.
“So, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying tapped her finger along the edge of the card. The smile playing on her lips made Lan Zhan worry the red of her ears had begun seeping down her neck. “Are you here for pleasure or business?”
“Business,” Lan Zhan exhaled, focusing on the annoyance to keep the heat at bay.
“Figured, Auntie Wu never sends anyone fun my way.” Wei Ying pouted. “But a girl can dream.” She winked. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I don’t drink,” Lan Zhan replied curtly.
“Bundle of laughs you’ll be,” Wei Ying sighed. She turned back to the man she’d been talking to, slipping into another language. It was at a rapid fire pace, making it harder to identify. Ultimately, a muttered sacrebleu made the identification for Lan Zhan.
“Why don’t we talk in the lounge?” Wei Ying turned back to Lan Zhan with a smile. She didn’t wait for a response from Lan Zhan, foraging the path ahead without waiting to see if she’d follow.
Lan Zhan glanced at the man Wei Ying had been talking to. His movement to light a cigarette paused as he noticed her gaze.
“Look, doll,” he spoke around the cigarette, his blond hair flopping down into his face. “If you need help, she’s the best broad in the city.”
“What is she? A private detective?”
“She’s whatever catches her attention for the day.” The man snorted. “A real dilettante, that one.”
“Is she discreet?”
“You saw her; nothing that minx does I’d call discreet,” The man chuckled, shaking his head as he finally lit his cigarette. “But don’t let that dissuade you, she’s probably the smartest person in this building.”
“Smartest broad, you mean?” Lan Zhan’s tongue rebelled against the slang, unable to keep a huff out of her tone. She’d thought the Americans were supposed to be forward-thinking, with their new women they’d so fondly nicknamed flappers. Instead, she’d found them nearly as closed-minded as they had been back in China. At least here, she and her sister didn’t have their hovering grandparents.
“I said what I said.” The man took a long drag of his cigarette. “I wouldn’t keep her waiting,” He added with a nod in Wei Ying’s direction.
Lan Zhan leveled another glare at him, considering lingering just to spite him. A ruckus cry from a table is what pushed her on. Even this far underground, there was no telling when the vice cops might show up. She didn’t smell opium, but there was plenty of booze and gambling to go around. The sooner she could get out of here, the better.
She met her own eyes in the mirror behind the bar. While she didn’t wear makeup like Wei Ying that needed to be checked, she could still give her hair a cursory look. Finding no strands flying away from her low bun, and both her sapphire drop earrings in place, there was no other reason to dally.
Wei Ying led her further back into the bar, lifting aside a curtain to enter a side room. Lan Zhan was grateful as she stepped through, as the haze of cigarette smoke was thinner here. The room was finely appointed, if a little gaudy in the color scheme of black lacquer and red.
Though it made Wei Ying look perfectly at home as she stretched out on one of the divans in the room. She perched her elbow on the arm, her feet kicking up to curl beside her. Lan Zhan’s eyes were drawn down by the sheen of her stockings, following it up to the slit of her skirt.
“Smoke?” Wei Ying offered as she slid open a drawer to the end table next to her.
“No.” Lan Zhan shook her head as she perched on the chair opposite. She let her fur slip down her shoulders against it as she crossed her legs at the ankles.
“You don’t drink, don’t smoke,” Wei Ying paused to light her cigarette. She tilted her head back, letting her first breath of smoke spiral out of her mouth out above her. “Tell me, how am I supposed to get you to open up to me about what you came here for?”
“Conversation,” Lan Zhan stated simply.
It pulled a full laugh from Wei Ying, soaring above the music drifting in from the other room.
“Alright.” Wei Ying smiled, her hand reaching out to tap the ash of her cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Is that necessary?” Lan Zhan felt her brow furrow.
“I suppose it’s not,” Wei Ying hummed. “But Auntie Wu never sends anyone my way unless they're out of options. With my overactive imagination, I am liable to think the worst.”
“The worst?” Lan Zhan questioned as she eyed Wei Ying’s wagging eyebrow. “What kind of business do you do?”
“Whatever catches my attention.” Wei Ying flashed a large smile, as crooked as the moon.
“I am not out of options.” Lan Zhan let out a huff. “Madam Wu just implied you would be discrete.”
“Fascinating,” Wei Ying hummed. “To think there would be a day when Auntie Wu considered me discrete! Which almost makes me more rabid for information.” Her legs swung down, her elbow planted on them as Wei Ying leaned in. Her sparkling eyes roved over Lan Zhan.
“I simply need aid in recovering a photograph and the negatives,” Lan Zhan laid out her problem in the simplest of words.
“A photograph.” Wei Ying’s eyebrow arched. “Is it of you?”
“Yes.” Lan Zhan nodded. “The contents of which would be inconvenient should they find their way to my Aunt, or others.”
“The mind does spin.” Wei Ying’s mouth tugged up.
“Think what you will.” Lan Zhan resisted huffing. “I do not like to waste time. If you cannot help me, tell me now so I might be on my way.”
“I’ll help you.” Wei Ying smiled.
“Good,” Lan Zhan exhaled. She reached into her fur, withdrawing the piece of paper she’d already prepared. “The name of the photographer is listed, as well as their address.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m helping you?” Wei Ying didn’t even look at the paper. Her gloved hand merely fidgeted with it, her eyes still fully trained on Lan Zhan. Like a cat with a mouse.
Lan Zhan had no desire to be a mouse.
“Your reasons are your own.” She gathered her fur.
The sound of Wei Ying’s laugh stopped her. Her eyes flitting up to watch the woman laugh with her whole body, the last of it expelling as she hit the back of the dividan. She lifted her cigarette to her lips, the spark in her eye marching the tip as she took a drag.
“Simply fascinating,” She exhaled in smoke.
“You haven’t even looked at the information,” Lan Zhan huffed.
“I meant you.” Wei Ying rolled her eyes. “I mean that you're certainly pretty enough to be a prostitute, almost too pretty. You’d make more sense as a sing song girl, though to afford that getup you’d have to be a damn good one.”
“Then why are you ruling it out?” Lan Zhan couldn’t resist the bait.
“Because then I’d know you, darling,” Wei Ying laughed. “Though with a face like that, you’d find work here even if you were a dreadful singer.” She winked. Lan Zhan scowled in turn. “Your gloves are tight enough to show you’ve got no ring on your finger, so that rules out a newly immigrated wife. You could be here on a student visa.”
“I am.” Lan Zhan nodded, just to end this game. It only pulled another laugh from Wei Ying.
“Now I know you aren’t.” She grinned. “Which makes you, my dear Lan Zhan, an enigma.”
“I am nothing so intriguing,” Lan Zhan huffed. “I’ll take my case somewhere else.” She held her hand out for the paper.
“You won’t,” Wei Ying hummed.
“I clearly am.”
“Meet me at the Congregational Church tomorrow at one,” Wei Ying hummed as she stubbed out her cigarette. “I’ll have news for you then.”
“You haven’t even looked at the information,” Lan Zhan snapped as she stood. “How can you already know when you’ll have an update?”
“Does that intrigue you?” Wei Ying smirked as she stood, an eyebrow arching.
“Infuriate would be more accurate,” Lan Zhan huffed. “I’ll be going elsewhere for help, so there is no need to trouble yourself.” She withdrew her hand.
“You won’t be,” Wei Ying hummed as she moved back towards the curtain. “You’ll be at the Congregational Church tomorrow at one.”
“I will not,” Lan Zhan huffed.
“Oh, you will.” Wei Wuxian turned back, pausing in front of the curtain.
“What makes you so confident?”
“Because, my dear Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying’s smile grew. “You’re just as curious as I am.” She winked, disappearing through the curtain.
Lan Zhan huffed, glaring at the curtain.
She most definitely would not be going to the Congregational Church tomorrow. Mark her words.
(Two Images of Lan Zhan and Wei Ying)
“ Meimei?”
Lan Zhan let out a low groan as she woke to the sound of her sister’s voice. Her eyes flickered open, her sister's face swimming into view. The normally flawless skin, so often likened to porcelain, was creased with worry. Though, Lan Zhan’s eyes caught on her sister's cheeks at the blush sitting on them.
“A-jie? Are you okay?” Lan Zhan lurched in her half-asleep state. Her hand went to Lan Huan’s forehead, only to find it cooler than her own hand. Maybe she was too warm from her blankets.
“Am I alright?” Lan Huan laughed. “I’m the one who should be asking you,” She pushed Lan Zhan’s hand away to press her own to Lan Zhan’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm, are you nauseous or achey?”
“No.” Lan Zhan shook her head. “I feel fine, why are you worried?”
“Why am I worried?” Lan Huan laughed. “ Meimei , it’s past nine and you're still in bed!”
Lan Zhan blinked, her head turning to her window. Even though the curtains were drawn, the midmorning sun was peeking around the edges and illuminating the room. Lan Zhan had assumed Lan Huan had just turned on the light. She pushed herself into a sitting position.
“I had trouble falling asleep last night,” Lan Zhan admitted.
It was the truth, after she’d snuck in from her late night excursion, exhausted, she’d gone straight to bed. Only to lay there for hours, seething. Her mind had played over every second of her meeting with the ‘Honorable Lady’, each loop only making her more and more irate.
The sheer audacity of the woman! Each loop only made Wei Ying more and more arrogant to Lan Zhan. How could she possibly have news by one? She didn’t even look at the paper Lan Zhan provided! There was no possible way she could already know when she’d have news. Unless that Auntie had already reached out to Wei Ying. Lan Zhan dismissed the idea; she hadn’t given the auntie any fine details, she’d wanted to minimize those who knew. Then there was the assumption that Lan Zhan would just go to a church because Wei Ying told her to. Like a trained pet.
Which made it all the more infuriating that what little sleep she did get was plagued by red painted lips and curling smoke. An infectious laugh paired with the imagination of what it would feel like against her lips. Those finely shaped legs as she rolled those stockings down.
“Then I had problems staying asleep,” Lan Zhan let out a huff as she reached up to scrub her face and the thoughts away. “I’ll get up now, have you eaten already?” She shifted to the edge of her bed. Her braid slipped over her shoulder as she reached down for her slippers.
“I have, there’s leftover congee on the stove if you want it.” Lan Huan hummed as she watched her slide her feet into the slippers. “You know, meimei , you don’t have to get up.”
“I don’t want to waste the day.” Lan Zhan shook her head.
“A-Zhan,” Lan Huan sighed as she sat down on the bed next to her. “We aren’t under our grandparents or the school’s rules anymore. We don’t have to follow those inane rules anymore. If you want to sleep until ten, you can. It doesn’t matter to me. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t coming down with something.” She reached out to squeeze her hand. “If you are okay, I’m going to finish getting ready.”
The temptation lingered on Lan Zhan’s tongue. She could tell her sister everything, come clean and try to solve this problem together. Instead, Lan Zhan merely swallowed the temptation and squeezed her sister's hand back.
“I overslept, but I do not feel ill.” She offered. “But thank you for checking.”
“Of course,” Lan Huan hummed as she stood. She leaned in to kiss Lan Zhan’s forehead, leaving the smell of peonies in her wake.
Lan Zhan sighed as she stood. There was no use in ruining their newfound paradise. A paradise that had come in the form of a two bedroom apartment, even with the almost offensively green exterior. Still, Lan Zhan only saw the green when she was on the balcony, so she supposed she couldn’t complain too much.
Not to mention that a two bedroom apartment was practically palatial in Chinatown. Lan Zhan had heard of full families living in a single room, which operated as a bed and kitchen. She’d seen some families weren’t even fortunate to afford that. It made her appreciate the apartment even more, especially since she and her sister had no idea what would be waiting for them in America when they decided to flee their grandparents and their arranged marriages.
They never should have underestimated their yima .
Lan Qiren had been waiting for them at the docks, fighting through the bureaucracy at Angel Island and whisking them away to the luxury of an automobile. It became clear that unlike their mother’s disastrous gum shan marriage, their yima ’s had been quite a different case. Prior to their arrival the mythical gum shan itself, San Francisco had been nothing more than a term that haunted Lan Zhan’s childhood in reference to her absent father. A father who’d gone off to the Golden Mountain to seek their fortune, only to vanish after sending a few letters home.
They’d expected nothing when they’d reached out to their yima once they’d booked passage to San Francisco from Shanghai. It was just another base to cover, since even though they had legal paperwork that had been sent over in one of the few precious letters from their father, they had heard entrance to America would be hard. Yet their yima had gone above and beyond their expectations, and so did her husband.
Unlike their own mother’s marriage, which had been rumored to be a love match, their yima Lan Qiren was a gum shan man’s second wife. He was looking for an educated woman to run his home as shrewdly as he ran his business. Lan Qiren did such a good job with the man’s home, he quickly brought her in to do the business’s books. With Lan Qiren’s help, the man’s musical business had gotten even wealthier. And, along the way, they’d fallen in love. Their yifu , who they’d yet to meet, had been more than happy to agree to Lan Qiren’s request to send funds home to support her sister and nieces, something the two weren’t aware of until they arrived in America.
Now, the monetary support had transformed into an apartment above their yifu’s San Francisco Chinatown storefront and a weekly allowance. The couple had long wanted to move out to the country, but were too frugal to rectify buying another residence when they still needed to come into town. So, they were given the apartment on the condition that they’d make space for Lan Qiren or their yifu when they needed to come into town. Since they’d shared a room under their grandparents’ roof, the deal was easy to agree to.
Any guilt about having such a large space to themselves was easily smothered by the privacy. Or the fact it had electricity and running water, with the jewel being the clawfoot tub. One Lan Zhan regarded as she padded into the bathroom to handle her morning necessities.
While she adored the ease of having a bath without having to lug the water in, she couldn’t shake the mindset that the bath was a luxury. So, she settled for a washcloth and the sink. After some thought to her hair, she decided to simply rebraid it. It swung behind her as she moved back to her room to get dressed.
She settled on a light blue blouse, paired with a black silk skirt with gentian flowers embroidered around the hem which fell at her midcalf. While the style was fading in popularity, with her sister having ordered none of them in Shanghai and instead focusing on the increasingly popular qipao, Lan Zhan had wanted a few pieces. It was a style that had become popular in school, one Lan Zhan still had a fondness for.
Despite being considered old on the fashion front, it was still a perfectly acceptable form of dress. If she’d wanted to go out, she’d merely pull on a pair of white stockings. But she wasn’t going out. Even if she did, she was definitely not going to the Congregational Church.
Lan Zhan moved into the kitchen, serving herself before settling in to glance through the newspaper. She and Lan Huan had decided to alternate the publications, between the San Francisco Examiner and Chung Sai Yat Po . Today was the San Francisco Examiner, and after a cursory glance through the articles, Lan Zhan settled in the classifieds. Her eyes scanned the crowded columns, seeking out keywords such as women encouraged to apply and Chinese welcome . Her scissors were at the ready for anything promising.
“Anything good?” Lan Huan questioned as she came into the kitchen. Lan Zhan’s eyes went to the demonic fork in her hands, watching as her sister set the congee pot aside and placed the fork on the burner.
“Button maker,” Lan Zhan offered.
“You could be so much more than a button maker,” Lan Huan offered as she kept her attention on the fork.
“Apparently not here,” Lan Zhan huffed in response. While their yima had made it clear they didn’t have to work, Lan Zhan felt awkward being just idle. So far the only option she’d come up with was to make friends, or find a job. A job she’d figured would be easier, at least until she’d started applying. It would seem in the jobs where she wasn’t disqualified for being female, she was often deemed unfit due to being Chinese. Still, she was confident it would be easier to find a job than a friend.
She let out a sigh as a pair of red lips flashed through her mind. Her eyes flicked up to watch her sister to distract herself.
“Don’t burn your hair this time, will you?” She turned the page as she saw Lan Huan lift the fork from the burner.
“Please, it happened once!” Lan Huan huffed, but her attention remained focused on curling her hair around the tongues of the fork.
“Mn, once on my head,” Lan Zhan fired back.
“What, did you expect me to try to learn it on my own head? I couldn’t see what I was doing!” Lan Huan shot back. “Besides, you looked great when I was done. Singed hair and all.”
“Seeing how I only have your word for it,” Lan Zhan couldn’t resist teasing as she scanned the next column. Only to double take when she read one. She reached for her scissors, checking both sides of the page before clipping it out.
“Something good?” Lan Huan questioned.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed. “A lady’s companion.”
Lan Huan didn’t hide the sigh.
“I thought America was supposed to be the land of opportunity,” She muttered.
“It is if you aren’t Chinese,” Lan Zhan offered simply. The few weeks she’d spent job searching had certainly proven that.
“Why don’t you just see if yima could get you a job with yifu ?” Lan Huan questioned.
“I’m looking for a job because I feel bad about their goodwill,” Lan Zhan rejected the idea.
“It wouldn’t be goodwill anymore,” Lan Huan fired back. “You’d be working for it.”
“Maybe,” Lan Zhan sighed. “But we didn’t come here to live off of another family member. We’re to be independent, new women!” She put a sarcastic lilt to the end of her statement.
“Could you imagine what our grandparents would have said if they found out what that school was teaching us?” Lan Huan snorted.
“No doubt they would have brought us home and bound our feet themselves,” Lan Zhan snorted into a cup of her tea.
“Still, don’t you think we owe it to them?” Lan Huan questioned with a low sigh.
“We don’t owe our grandparents anything,” Lan Zhan shot back. “Except maybe a few bills for the trellis we broke in our escape.”
“No, not them.” Lan Huan rolled her eyes. “The other girls at school. I mean, we were being educated to be the women of a new generation, yet how many of them ended up married off? Here we are, free of a marriage, of the noose of expectations! Doesn’t it make you feel like we should be doing everything to live this new life to the fullest?”
“I’m not squandering it by getting a job,” Lan Zhan shot back. She hesitated for a moment. “Are we really breaking the cycle if we keep relying on yima ? How can we claim to be independent women if we still need her support to survive?”
The anxieties slipped from Lan Zhan unbidden. They’d been the eggshells she’d been walking over for days. She feared that this problem would rear its head and suddenly their yima would decide Lan Zhan wasn’t worth supporting. Right now, she had the luxury of choice, but the flash of a camera had reminded her that it could be torn away from her. Which is why it was all the more important that Lan Zhan could support herself.
“I could see if the cafe would hire you,” Lan Huan offered.
“I’d hardly call that a job.” Lan Zhan rolled her eyes as she turned the page. For all her worries, she couldn’t help hoping she could find something a little more worth her education.
“They pay me,” Lan Huan shot back. “What else would you call that but work?”
“It’s hardly work when they just pay you to sit there,” Lan Zhan teased, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Excuse you,” Lan Huan gasped as she pulled a curl free from the iron. “I give the place ‘atmosphere’, thank you very much.” She wagged the curling iron at Lan Zhan.
“Like a mannequin,” Lan Zhan hummed.
“Well, I give much better conversation than a mannequin,” Lan Huan shot back as she turned to her next section of hair. “Oh! Do you remember that friend I made?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed, knowing it was no use to try to narrow it down. Everytime Lan Huan went out, she came back with at least two new acquaintances she called friends. Clearly their definition of the word was different.
“Well, they have a younger sister.” Lan Huan smiled. Lan Zhan felt a shiver go down her spin as she realized where this was headed. “She’s quite the fashion expert, and she’s offered to show me the ways of the Western styles. We’re going to go shopping after I’m done at work, if you want to meet us?”
Panic surged in Lan Zhan, her mind blanking for a response.
“I have plans,” Was the first thing that came to mind.
“You have plans?” Lan Huan repeated doubtfully. Her sister paused in her curling, looking over at Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan felt a spark of anger light in her.
“I do,” She huffed.
“I’m not making fun, meimei ,” Lan Huan soothed. “It’s just, well, I practically drag you out of this apartment for anything that isn’t buying groceries.”
Lan Zhan had the urge to tell her what exactly she’d done the night before. How she even went to a speakeasy on her own. But that would draw even more questions about why she hadn’t invited Lan Huan, which would only put Lan Zhan in a sticky situation.
“Well, I do,” Lan Zhan settled on replying.
“What are they?”
“What?”
“What are your plans?” Lan Huan question. “Where are you going, who are you going with?”
“The Congregational Church,” Lan Zhan’s spark of rebellion pushed the words from her lips. “I met an acquaintance and she invited me to meet her there.”
“An acquaintance?” Lan Huan arched an eyebrow.
“Auntie Wu introduced me.” The fib still soured Lan Zhan’s mouth as she gave it. It wasn’t even that large of a lie.
“And what are you doing at this church?” Lan Huan questioned. “Converting?”
“No,” Lan Zhan huffed. “It’s just a meeting spot. What’s with the interrogation? Shouldn’t you be focusing on not burning yourself?” Her jab was perfectly timed as Lan Huan let out a hiss, her hand furiously waiving to dissipate the heat.
“I’m not trying to interrogate you,” Lan Huan murmured. “It’s just you’ve never had a friend that wasn’t imaginary before. You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“A number of girls from school would disagree,” Lan Zhan huffed.
“It’s different here.” Lan Huan rolled her eyes. “We aren’t all locked into a former nunnery in the middle of nowhere! It was impossible not to make friends there.”
Her sister did tell the truth, as Lan Zhan had strived to avoid it. Yet despite her efforts she still had a small bundle of addresses awaiting a letter to share her new address. Still, those friendships had been forged over years.
“It’s an acquaintance,” Lan Zhan stood by the word as she shut the newspaper, having reached the end of the classifieds. Her eyes flicked to the clock, only to twitch as she realized she was noticing how many hours she had left until one. “Did you pick up the ingredients for mantou?” She changed the subject. It would do her good to do something with her hands.
“You asked, didn’t you?” Lan Huan hummed in response.
Lan Zhan shot her a look as she rolled up her sleeves. She flicked on the radio, a low jazz filling the apartment. She started to hum as she gathered the ingredients, falling into the routine of transforming flour into dough.
Perhaps a little too routine, as Lan Zhan felt her mind start to wander. Just because she told Lan Huan she was going to the Church didn’t mean she had to. It had just been a moment's weakness to get back at her sister. At the same time, now that she’d brought it up Lan Huan wasn’t going to let it go.
Lan Zhan stopped that line of thought. Where would that lead? Her going to Wei Ying and asking her to pretend to be a friend in order to appease her older sister? It would just make Wei Ying even more insufferable. Though, Lan Zhan supposed, after that point she and Wei Ying could part ways.
Still, the sting of proving Wei Ying right weighed too heavily on Lan Zhan. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. She could picture the way those red lips would smirk, how those eyes would sparkle. Why did that woman have to be as infuriating as she was beautiful? It wasn’t fair.
“ Meimei ?” Lan Zhan’s sister’s voice broke through the angry tirade of thoughts.
“Yes, a-jie? ” Lan Zhan blinked out of her thoughts, her eyes focusing on her older sister.
She’d changed. She entered the kitchen in a baby blue qipao. The hair she’d been painstakingly curling was softened into the fingerwave style that seemed to be all the rage here in the States. She’d done something clever, hiding her long locks and creating a faux bob look. Lan Zhan’s eyes caught on her sister's cheek, wondering if she imagined the blush there.
“I was going to ask how I looked, but from the way you're strangling that dough, perhaps I’ll take my chances with the judgment of the world.” Lan Huan teased, a corner of her mouth rising. Lan Zhan looked down, only to sigh at the state of the dough in her hands. She freed her fingers from the bread, grabbing the pale yellow bowl to set it in.
“You look great,” Lan Zhan nodded to her sister as she set the dough inside. She set the towel over the top before setting it aside to let it rise. Hopefully, it would turn out extra fluffy instead of tough. “I like what you did with your hair.”
“Do you?” Lan Huan’s smile grew wider. She stepped into the kitchen, checking her reflection in the shiny new wok hanging on the wall. “I saw it in an old magazine and just had to try it. I feel so chic!”
“Doesn’t even look singed.” Lan Zhan hummed, only to laugh as her sister smacked her lightly.
“I could try it on you,” Lan Huan’s eyes traveled up.
“If it includes that curling iron, count me out.” Lan Zhan snorted as she crossed to the sink to clean her hands.
“Come now, that iron isn’t so scary once you get used to it.” Lan Huan rolled her eyes.
“It burned my hair off,” Lan Zhan huffed back.
“It did not!” Lan Huan huffed. “You’re just being dramatic! Your hair looked even better than it did before, and you know it.”
“Tell you what, find a method that doesn’t involve the iron,” Lan Zhan gave her a look. “And I’ll let you do it.”
“Perfect, I’ve been dying to try out these pin curls I saw in a magazine.” Lan Huan brightened. Lan Zhan groaned. Why did she have a feeling she’d just been set up? “You know, I’m thinking of cutting it.”
The words drug Lan Zhan back to her sister, blinking in surprise. It was a hesitant confession, but she could tell her sister meant it.
“But your hair is so pretty,” Lan Zhan could only offer.
“But it’s so,” Lan Huan struggled for a word. “It’s just, all the leading ladies have short hair! Think of all those illustrations of the flappers, they have short hair too! Long hair is just so, well old fashioned!”
“Oh,” Lan Zhan breathed, her own hand going to her hair.
“Oh, meimei, I didn’t mean it like that,” Lan Huan hurried over. Lan Zhan arched an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t mean that you have to cut yours too.”
“But our hair has always been the same,” Lan Zhan murmured. “We were always the same.” Her eyes shifted to the blush on Lan Huan’s cheeks. This close, she could see it was brushed on. Another difference.
A twin pair of China dolls, that was what everyone said about them, a matching set. It was the only thing positive ever said about them.
“That was back in China, meimei ,” Lan Huan reached out to squeeze her hand. “Back when wàipó controlled our lives. Things are different here, we can be different. We can be whatever we want to be!”
“Won’t yima say something?”
“Yima wants us to be independent, to think for ourselves.” Lan Huan smiled. “Why else would she give us this apartment all to ourselves? To encourage us to go out into the world? What was it we were so fond of saying in school?”
“Unbound by a man or society,” Lan Zhan exhaled, thinking about the circles they’d had at school. Passionate debates, grand words proclaiming how they’d forge their own paths. How they’d be writers, artists, teachers and doctors. Anything and everything they could think of. Softer meetings held in dorms, of whispered words and forbidden hopes that could only be passed with a press of lips and never spoken.
How many of them were married now? How many of them had their dreams bound? They’d never live to see their futures as they were dreamt of in those circles. Lan Zhan exhaled. She’d just have to do the looking for them.
“I think you’d look good with a bob.” She smiled, squeezing her sister's hand. It was time to put the matching China dolls to rest.
“I think so too,” Lan Huan laughed. “Now, I am off to work.” She hurried towards the cabinet at the door. She pulled it open, glancing through the shoes. She bypassed the studier heels, instead grabbing a pair of embroidered slippers to slip on. No doubt to fit the more ‘oriental’ image the cafe wanted her to project.
“I’d love to meet your friend.” She smiled. “Why don’t you invite her back here for tea?”
“As I told you, it’s an acquaintance ,” Lan Zhan huffed. “And I’m sure she has more important things to do.
“Fine,” Lan Huan pouted. “See if I bring you back anything fun from the store.”
“Aren’t you going to be late if you stay here dallying?” Lan Zhan arched an eyebrow. She got a scowl from Lan Huan, but it propelled her sister into motion.
“Oh, don’t forget the Great China Theater has that new comedy premiering,” Lan Huan called last minute. “If you're in the area grab tickets, would you? I hear there’s going to be another fantastical after party!”
As the door thudded shut, all Lan Zhan could do was sigh. That was just what she needed, another party to get herself in trouble. In the party’s defense, she’d done a fine job of it by pretending she was meeting an acquaintance. How was she going to get out of that mess?
She sighed as she planted her hands on the counter, only to straighten as she saw the listing she’d clipped out of the paper. Maybe she didn’t have to resort to giving in to Wei Ying. An acquaintance turning into a boss would also get Lan Huan off her back.
Yes, that was what she’d do. She’d finish the mantou, and take the best ones to make a good impression as she called on the job. She’d just have to think of a different solution for her problem. Even then, maybe she was making too big a deal out of it. It wasn’t like she was being blackmailed, the photographer might not even remember who she was.
Drinking a heavy dose of false confidence, Lan Zhan readied herself for her plan.
Lan Zhan stared at herself in the reflection of the knocker in front of her. She had changed, dressed neatly in a blue cotton qipao and leather t-straps. Her hair was once again back up in a low bun, just braided this time. She’d taken the time to write out a list of skills and qualities, having learned a show of skill was useful in pushing past stereotypes.
Now, all that was left to knock.
The metallic clang of the knocker sounded, leaving Lan Zhan to wait in the silence that followed. Her gaze fell back to her list as she waited, her mind crafting the opening words she’d like to say.
“May I help you?” A livery suited man answered the door. Lan Zhan didn’t miss the scowl to his mouth as his eyes ran the length of her, pausing on her eyes.
“I’m calling about the position for a lady’s companion,” Lan Zhan informed him.
“The lady is out,” The man replied.
“If you don’t mind,” Lan Zhan tried to put a smile on her face, “I’d like to leave this with you.” She held out her list. “I’ve attached my calling card and composed a list of my skills that will be beneficial to the position.”
“No need, just call back when the lady is in.”
“And when might that be?” Lan Zhan’s hand flew out, stopping the door from closing.
“The lady has not informed me of her schedule.”
“Then all the more reason for you to relay this to her,” Lan Zhan pressed. “I can’t be calling at all hours of the day, can I?”
“That is not my problem,” The livery man huffed. “Now please remove your hand from our door.”
“Then tell me when you will not be here,” Lan Zhan fired back.
“Excuse me?”
“Surely you must know your own schedule,” Lan Zhan huffed. “Since you seem unwilling to pass my qualifications on to your employer, I would like to know when someone else would be present who finds themselves more willing.”
“Why, I never!” The man started to flush red.
“Reginald, let the girl in,” A woman’s laugh sounded from further in the house.
“My Lady.” Reginald jumped as if he’d been scalded with hot water. “I was just-”
“I know what you were doing, Reginald,” The woman’s voice cut him off. “But any girl with enough gumption to tell you off is worth my time. So stand aside.”
Reginald’s jaw clamped shut as he stepped aside, letting the door open fully. Lan Zhan’s eyes blinked in an attempt to adjust to the darkened interior of the house. They searched for the woman who was speaking.
“I am afraid that I am just about to leave, and I unfortunately can’t be delayed.” The sound of her heels grew louder. “However, I am free tomorrow at two if you’ll call again. If you leave your list, I can even review it before then. I look forward to chatting with you.”
“I do as well.” Lan Zhan bowed as the woman was close enough.
“How cute,” The woman laughed.
It sent ice shooting down Lan Zhan’s spine. Lan Zhan’s gaze moved slowly, up the leather oxfords and to the drop-waisted dress. Up to the pink painted lips, the strands of blond hair that were escaping the tight-fitted cloche hat. When she took a sharp breath, she was greeted with the same rose scent of that night.
“Oh, look, she recognized me, Reginald.” The woman laughed again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “That is good, I’d love for my companion to be a fan of my work. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow!” She smiled as she skipped down the steps and to an automobile that pulled up.
Lan Zhan could only stare as she went.
Did she not recognize her?
“This is how I knew you wouldn’t pan out,” Reginald huffed. “If you're so tongue tied now, you’ll never be able to get your work done.”
“I was just surprised.” Lan Zhan snapped out of it. She held her list out for Reginald to take. “It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t be happening at all, if I have anything to say about it.” Reginald huffed. “Although I’m sure you do a splendid laundry.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes flashed, but the door slammed shut before she could voice her rage. She settled for a glare as she spun to make her way down the steps. It was only as she hit the sidewalk that reality hit her.
If she wanted this job, she’d have to get to the Congregational Church.
🎞️🎞️🎞️🎞️
Lan Zhan was out of breath by the time she was reading the sign that declared both in English and Mandarin that declared the building was the Chinese Congregational Church. It was hardly what she expected of a church, with a complete lack of any spires. It was built of stone, but the four story building looked more like apartments than a church.
It was only as she entered that she realized she was at a disadvantage. Wei Ying had only said to come to the Congregational Church, with no extra instructions. So Lan Zhan was stuck staring at their large list of events, going through them one by one to try to determine where the woman would be. Her English was already flawless, so the lessons for it seemed unlikely unless she was teaching. Something told her Wei Ying wasn’t into embroidery. Lan Zhan wasn’t even sure what scoutmasters were, let alone if it would be something Wei Ying was interested in. She supposed that left the equally ambiguous option, the Square and Circle Club.
“Can I help you?” A huffy voice broke through Lan Zhan’s study.
Lan Zhan blinked as she turned, finding a woman her age looking at her expectantly. She was dressed in the western fashion, though the preferred sleek lines of the drop-waisted silhouette was interrupted by the swelling bulge of a baby bump. Embroidered slippers were at odds with the western dress and the bob of the woman’s hair, but from the scowl on the woman’s face, Lan Zhan wasn’t going to bring it up.
“I’m looking for someone, a woman named Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan explained. “She just said to meet her here.”
“Of course she did.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Here, make yourself useful and carry this.” She thrust a carpet bag into Lan Zhan’s arms. Lan Zhan was surprised by the weight of it, her heels clicking against the stone floor as she stumbled back.
The pregnant woman didn’t seem to care, already waddling towards the stairs.
“I’m not-” Lan Zhan started to call after her.
“Come on, I’ll take you to her.” The woman cut her off. “The least you can do is carry a pregnant woman’s bag in turn,” She griped as she started on the stairs.
Lan Zhan exhaled, adjusting her grip on the bag.
“You could have asked,” She offered as she quickly caught up to the woman. Her arm reached out to support, only to be batted away.
“I said carry my bag, not help me,” The women huffed. “I’m only six months pregnant.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes bulged out as they dropped to the woman’s belly. She would have said the woman was close to being due, not three months from it.
“How many are you having?” She tried to make polite conversation.
“Just the one,” The woman groaned as she got on to the landing. Her movement paused so she could catch her breath.
“Well,” Lan Zhan paused awkwardly trying to think of something. “They look healthy.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” The woman scowled.
Lan Zhan was saved from answering as an intoxicating laugh echoed down the staircase.
“She means you're no doubt bringing to term the largest baby the world’s ever seen!” Wei Ying’s words were paired with the staccato clacks of her heels on the stairs. “Come now, A-Cheng, are you sure that genius doctor husband of yours didn’t misjudge your due date?”
Wei Ying landed on the landing. Her black t-straps were paired with a black dress. The skirt featured a box pleat, kicking up to show off her stockinged legs. The short sleeves were detailed with red cuffs matching with the collar of the dress. Someone had gone an extra mile, embroidering spider lilies along the collar. Her hair was neatly pulled up, the front waved slightly.
“Of course not,” The woman bristled. “We got married six months ago.”
“Then you better hope that little bundle of joy of yours hangs in there to make that believable.” Wei Ying winked at the woman. Her scowl only deepened.
“If you’re implying-”
“Please, A-Cheng, everyone knows who’s baby that is,” Wei Ying snorted. “It’s just no one is buying your due date, and everyone knows about that beach trip two months before.”
“Well tell my parents that,” Jiang Cheng huffed.
“Just saying, if you can tell me your real due date, I could pull off some grand shenanigans to make everyone keep from doing the math.” She winked. “I’m sorry, Lan Zhan, we're being dreadfully rude. This is Jiang Cheng, my childhood friend.”
“Lan Zhan.” Lan Zhan bobbed her head in greeting.
“I know,” Jiang Cheng huffed. “She hasn’t shut up about you.” She jerked her head at Wei Ying. “If this one hadn’t put me off my breakfast,” She patted her stomach, “It would have.”
“You’re the one who begged to try the breakfast at the Palace,” Wei Ying snorted. “The least you can do is listen to me talk.”
“You should really run while you have the chance.” Jiang Cheng leveled a look at Lan Zhan. “This one is like a parasite, she latches in and doesn’t let go.”
“Says the woman growing one,” Wei Ying shot back with a grin.
“Unfortunately,” Lan Zhan exhaled, “I’ll have to take my chances with her.”
She was surprised at the transformation on Jiang Cheng’s face when she laughed. No doubt this was what she looked like when she wasn’t pregnant, a cheerful, youthful, spirited woman. Lan Zhan wouldn’t be surprised if she was around her own age.
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jiang Cheng huffed. “It’s not too late to come join us for embroidery.”
“Perhaps another time.” Lan Zhan inclined her head. While she preferred embroidering in solitude, Lan Huan would probably be eager for a group. Lan Zhan might even buy some respite from Lan Huan’s pushes for socialization by suggesting it.
“Her true purpose for getting you to carry her bag,” Wei Ying gasped in realization. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from being dragged in,” She whispered with a wink as she moved to Lan Zhan’s side. “I’m just finishing up some work for the Club up on third, so we can chat there.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan replied diplomatically. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine Wei Ying actually doing work.
“Tell Alice we’ll have our part of the Hope Chest done soon,” Jiang Cheng sighed. “I’d like to see finer work, but the girls have been slacking since I’m not here to watch them as much.”
“The circle here puts out the finest work in the city,” Wei Ying snorted as they reached the next landing, this time with a door.
Lan Zhan could hear the murmur of chatter as the door opened. She tilted her head to peer around and saw a group of girls gathered. The ages seemed to vary from thirteen to twenty, with those of the same age tending to clump together. Lan Huan no doubt would be right at home here.
“Well, have fun with your sewing!” Wei Ying ripped the carpet bag from Lan Zhan’s hold and pressed it into Jiang Cheng’s hold. “Also good luck, your test is tomorrow, right?” Her voice was lower. Lan Zhan watched Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flush.
“It is.”
“Don’t worry, you’re going to pass with flying colors. I look forward to calling you the first Chinese-American nurse.” She winked. “Come on Lan Zhan!” Her hand latched onto Lan Zhan’s, its warmth a stark contrast to the cool handles of the carpet bag.
“Miss Wei,” Lan Zhan huffed as she was dragged up the stairs. “This is hardly the way to treat a client.”
“Funny, I don’t remember asking for payment,” Wei Ying volleyed back as she threw her weight into opening the next door.
Unlike the floor below, this one was relatively quiet. The large, open space had chairs scattered about, and a flier on the wall proclaiming the Square and Circle Club, a ring of women centered around a logo. The rest of the floor were smaller rooms, a radio crackling out from one of them.
“Forgive me, I meant to be downstairs to greet you,” Wei Ying offered as she led them further back. She stepped into the open office, dropping Lan Zhan’s hand as she moved to turn the radio down. “But this ended up taking me a little longer than expected.” She moved to the desk.
“I didn’t expect you to be religious.” Lan Zhan glanced around the room. It clearly had benefited from a woman’s touch, the barebones western furniture made almost cozy with knickknacks, flowers, and embroidered runners. The only oddity was a large trunk in the corner, a pretty motif of birds and florals painting the exterior.
“I’m not,” Wei Ying hummed as she quickly brought the chaotic spread of the papers on the desk under control. “I’d attended an event, a jazz dance, to raise funding for flooding back in China. Met Alice Fong Yu, one of the founders of the club, and got recruited. Now I’m helping here and over at the YWCA. Though I’ve been instructed to avoid the bible thumpers, lest I start another heated debate.” She rolled her eyes.
Lan Zhan imagined Wei Ying was only more beautiful arguing. An image of Wei Ying, her cheeks flushed with furry and her eyes alight with fervor, flashed through Lan Zhan’s eyes. Lan Zhan shook it from her mind as she felt her own body heat. It was a ridiculous thought. Of course Wei Ying was going to be pretty while arguing, pretty people didn’t stop being pretty.
“What are you working on?” Lan Zhan’s eyes shifted to the papers Wei Ying was carefully stacking, desperate to clear her mind.
“We hosted an essay contest,” Wei Ying exhaled. “I didn’t expect we’d receive so many entries when I suggested it. A few are actually quite good, Alice asked me to read them over and see if I could get my friend Flora Bell. She’s done some work for the Examiner.”
“Why not try the Chung Sai Yat Po ?” Lan Zhan questioned. A smile curled Wei Ying’s lips as she looked up.
“Because, we need to get our voices outside of Chinatown.” Wei Ying set the larger stack of essays aside. A smaller bundle she picked up, moving over to tuck them into a bag. “They can dictate where we live and who we marry, but freedom of speech is written in bold letters on one of their big fancy important documents. Now, let’s turn to your problem.”
“You said you’d have news.” Lan Zhan followed Wei Ying’s lead and sat in a chair opposite the desk Wei Ying settled behind.
“And I do.” Wei Ying smiled. “Though, I’ll be honest, I didn’t think your trouble would be outside of Chinatown, let alone with a white man. I’ll say, I am impressed. I knew you’d be fun, I just didn’t expect wild.”
“This is a one-time occurrence.” Lan Zhan bristled. “I have learned my lesson.”
“Pity.” Wei Ying pouted.
“Is being out of Chinatown going to be a problem?” Lan Zhan exhaled.
“No, luckily for you.” Wei Ying grinned. “I’ve got lots of friends, including one that informed me that your photographer is going to be out of his studio for a tailor's appointment. Normally they take four hours.”
“Four hours?” Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed. “For a tailor's appointment?”
“They’re very good friends.” Wei Ying hummed.
‘But what does this have to do with us?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“Because his appointment starts at 2.” Wei Ying smiled. “If we leave now, we can arrive well after he’s cleared out.”
“What are you suggesting?” Lan Zhan’s heart skipped a beat as she drew her own conclusion. Surely Wei Ying couldn’t be suggesting that .
“That we let ourselves in and acquire the negatives.” Wei Ying smiled.
“That’s stealing.” Lan Zhan stared at her.
“Well, I assumed the reason you came to me is because you already asked him to hand them over and he refused.” Wei Ying shrugged. “From your clothes, you have money to offer. So if he was refusing even with monetary motivation, our options are to steal them or threaten bodily harm.”
“I’m not harming anyone!” Lan Zhan gaped.
“Good, then stealing it is.” Wei Ying stood. She picked up a red cloche hat, decorated with a large black flower on the side.
“I’m not stealing anything.” Lan Zhan stood in protest. “I wanted a solution.”
“Well, you could spend months building up his confidence in hopes the man will give you the photos,” Wei Ying sighed. “Seduction might be faster, but we’re still talking weeks at minimum.”
Lan Zhan’s jaw clenched. If she wanted that job, she wanted this dealt with as soon as possible. Sure, she didn’t recognize her now, but what about in a week? All she had to do was ask that photographer, or even just mention it, and that photo would come up. Was it really stealing anyway? She hadn’t been asked to have her photo taken, yet had been denied taking it back.
She just had to do this one thing, then her life could go back to whatever new normal San Francisco would provide.
“Alright,” Lan Zhan exhaled. “Lead the way.”
“I knew you’d agree!” Wei Ying laughed, her arm looping through Lan Zhan’s. All she could do was sigh and let herself be pulled along. Surely this would be enough to balance the transgression she was about to make.
“We’ll take the tram, less noticeable than an automobile,” Wei Ying explained as their heels clacked down the stairs.
“Should you say goodbye to Jiang Cheng?” Lan Zhan tried for anything that would slow the speed at which they were hurtling towards larceny.
“Oh no, she’s used to it by now.”
It, Lan Zhan inferred, was Wei Ying’s proclivity to dashing off at a moment's notice. Lan Zhan wondered how one could adjust to such a thing, or to such a woman.
“Come on, we don’t want to miss it!” Wei Ying gasped as they rounded the street corner to the sound of a bell. Her hand slid from the crook of Lan Zhan’s elbow, down to take her hand. Her free hand went to her hat, keeping it on as she broke into a run.
Lan Zhan was left with no other option but to stumble into a run after her.
“Where does it stop?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“Stop?” Wei Ying laughed. “It doesn’t stop!”
Lan Zhan’s eyes widened as they drew closer to the cable car. Her gaze went to the brass poles at the back of it, polished bright by what must have been thousands of hands. Surely Wei Ying didn’t mean-
“Just follow my lead!” Wei Ying’s hand slipped from hers as the woman put on a burst of speed. As graceful as a cat, Wei Ying jumped. Her hand caught the brass pole, the force of her jump causing her skirt to kick out in a flair. She laughed as she turned back to Lan Zhan, her hand reaching out.
“Come on, it’s easy,” Wei Ying called.
Maybe for her, she no doubt grew up jumping on and off these things. The last time Lan Zhan had mounted or dismounted a moving object was when she’d fallen off a horse. She supposed at least here the tram was moving away from her, so the most she had to risk was falling face first into the street. No doubt Wei Ying would laugh at her.
“Just close your eyes if you're scared,” Wei Ying called. “I’ll catch you.”
Lan Zhan was not scared, and she certainly wasn’t going to close her eyes.
A bad decision in hindsight, Lan Zhan realized as her feet left the ground. At least her eyes weren’t locked on her impending doom, but Wei Ying’s own eyes as they widened. A moment seemed to hang between them.
It ended as they collided. Their breath knocked from them as they slammed against the trolley. Their chests were pressed together, letting Lan Zhan feel the furious beat of Wei Ying’s heart. Lan Zhan’s gaze refocused, disoriented from the collision, only to focus on the mascara-darkened lashes mere inches from her.
She smelled of orange blossoms and leather, tobacco and jasmine.
A laugh pulled from Wei Ying’s lips, shaking the both of them. Her arms tightened around Lan Zhan’s waist, making Lan Zhan’s ears heat as hot as Lan Huan’s curling iron. She struggled to extract herself from the sprawling mess of limbs the two of them had come.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Wei Ying grinned as she straightened her hat before she sat.
“And no doubt gave half the street a show,” Lan Zhan huffed as she tugged on her qipao, trying to smooth out the rumpled state of it, only to pause as she felt the tram slow, jerking to a stop.
“Did we break it?” Lan Zhan blinked.
“You know,” Wei Ying laughed as she crossed her legs. Her elbow planted on her knee. “I really didn’t think you’d jump.”
Lan Zhan blinked, looking past her to see a line at the street side. Her gaze darkened as it was drawn by men disembarking from the tram, and new ones got on. The nail in the coffin was the sign that clearly said ‘tram stop’.
“You!” Lan Zhan’s eyes flashed.
“You’re already surpassing my expectations!” Wei Ying grinned. “Come now, you have to admit it was fun.”
Lan Zhan could let out a huff as she turned away from Wei Ying. Her arms crossed as she glared out at the street as the tram started moving again. She could jump off now, go find someone else to solve her issue. At this point she could do it herself, she didn’t have to subject herself to Wei Ying’s game.
“Oh don’t be too mad.” Wei Ying slid closer to Lan Zhan on the bench, the heat of her leg pressing up against Lan Zhan’s.
“What would you have done if I’d fallen flat on my face?” Lan Zhan muttered.
“Jumped off and picked you back up,” Wei Ying replied with a shrug. “We’d have laughed about it years from now.” She waved a hand.
“Now we’ll just laugh at the surprise on your face,” Lan Zhan shot back. It was only as a smile grew on Wei Ying’s lips that she realized her mistake.
“I suppose we will,” Wei Ying hummed as she squeezed even closer as a man jumped up from the street and onto the seat next to her. From the way his eyes trailed up Wei Ying’s legs, Lan Zhan didn’t blame her for crowding closer.
But it didn’t keep that coy scent from filling Lan Zhan’s nose. She had the orange blossoms pegged, and the jasmine, leather and tobacco, but what were the last pieces? Another floral?
“Are you wearing perfume?” Lan Zhan finally gave in. Wei Ying brightened at the question.
“Do you like it?” She held up her wrist. “It’s called Habanita by Molinard , came out years ago now, but I haven’t the heart to change it.”
“What’s the last part?” Lan Zhan murmured.
“Ah, probably the vetiver.” Wei Ying withdrew her wrist. “Unusual for a woman’s perfume, but I’d like to think of myself as an unusual woman.” She smiled to herself. “What about you? Are you a fan of perfume?”
“My grandparents deemed it frivolous,” Lan Zhan murmured.
“I thought you just emigrated with just your sister.”
“I did.” Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed. “How did you know that?”
“I asked around,” Wei Ying hummed, her foot bouncing from where her legs were crossed. “So you believe your grandparents when they said perfume was frivolous? Is that why you’re not using it now?”
“It’s,” Lan Zhan searched for an explanation. In truth, she’d seen the counters in the stores, but there were so many options. Not to mention the prices; what if she tired of the scent? Her eyes fell to the movement of Wei Ying’s foot, watching the black heel bounce. “I don’t have a job, our yima is supporting us.”
“Are you looking for a job?” Wei Ying’s foot stilled. Lan Zhan’s eyes looked up, catching a spark in Wei Ying’s dark eyes.
“Not the kind you’re offering,” Lan Zhan huffed.
“I didn’t even say anything!” Wei Ying protested.
“You think the solution to my problems is,” Lan Zhan’s voice dropped. “Breaking and entering, not to mention I had to meet you in an illegal bar. No doubt you’d have me hocking cigarettes there or smuggling goods in my garters.”
“You think so poorly of me.” Wei Ying pouted. “Oh, this is us!” She realized. Her hand took Lan Zhan’s again as she lurched forward to disembark.
Lan Zhan exhaled as she eyed the crowded sidewalks. The traffic pushed her a few steps behind Wei Ying, the two of them only linked by their clasped hands. As was a habit with her sister, Lan Zhan found herself squeezing Wei Ying’s hand as they were swept away into the foot traffic.
And to her surprise, Wei Ying squeezed back.
Before long, they were slipping out of the flow of people and into a quieter alleyway. Lan Zhan couldn’t help but exhale in relief, earning her another squeeze of her hand. Lan Zhan felt her ears heat as she tugged her hand from Wei Ying’s, glancing around the alley.
“Where is his studio?” She questioned.
“Just down the block, I figured you’d prefer the alleyway to the sidewalk.” Wei Ying hummed as she started to lead the way. Lan Zhan fell half a step behind her. “What if I promised it wasn’t illegal?”
“What?” Lan Zhan was jarred out of her stare down at a pile of something she hoped was strawberry jam and not the long list of horrors her mind was listing.
“A job.” Wei Ying looked back at her.
“I have an interview to be a lady’s companion tomorrow,” Lan Zhan ended the offer. She was surprised to hear a noise of protest from Wei Ying.
“If you want to be a boring lady’s companion, I could pay you double,” Wei Ying muttered.
“What?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“Here we are,” Wei Ying replied with a smile, pointing to a simple wooden sign that proclaimed ‘photographer’. “Not very flashy, and it doesn’t even give a name!” She criticized it. “How does he expect to pull in any customers?”
“He has his clientele,” Lan Zhan replied as she moved up to the door. “They come looking for him.” She mirrored words she’d heard what felt like years ago instead of a week. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, only to frown as it was locked. “It’s locked.” She looked up to Wei Ying.
“It would appear the man does have common sense.” A teasing smile played across Wei Ying’s lips.
“I didn’t-” Lan Zhan huffed. “I meant how are we supposed to get in?”
“Well,” Wei Ying’s head tilted up. “He might have locked the door, but he left the window open.” Lan Zhan could only stare at Wei Ying. “What?” She asked innocently.
Lan Zhan ground her teeth as her eyes moved to the wall. With a huff, she crossed to the pipes running up it, reaching out to tug at them. They were unfortunately quite solid. Lan Zhan looked back at Wei Ying, only to find the woman looking expectantly at her.
Utterly ridiculous. Lan Zhan huffed as she planted her foot. Her nose crinkled as her hands gripped the pipes, years of grime sliding against her hands as she found the right handholds. Years of climbing the willow tree on her family’s estate had taught her the right spots to look out for, meaning that although the climb was disgusting, it was thankfully short.
Lan Zhan slid through the window, letting out a huff as she glared down at her grime-covered hands. At least she’d get the pleasure of seeing Wei Ying covered in the same.
“Well done,” Wei Ying’s voice sounded. Lan Zhan jumped, spinning to find Wei Ying standing in the building behind her. She blinked, looking back to the window. “Really, you made climbing up those pipes look like child's play.” Wei Ying crossed to the window, her head leaning out of it.
“The door was locked,” Lan Zhan breathed.
“Yes, well,” Wei Ying reached up, sliding a pin back into her hat, “I’ve got a knack with locked doors.”
“But you said the only way in was the window!” Anger burned bright and hot in Lan Zhan’s chest.
“I was going to tell you I could pick the lock,” Wei Ying shot back. “But by then you were already halfway up! Really, I’m quite impressed. If you were to rethink that ban on illegal work, you could make a killing as a cat burglar.”
“You!” Lan Zhan seethed, at a complete loss for words. She spun, stalking off.
“Lan Zhan, where are you going?!” Wei Ying’s heels clattered as she hurried after her.
“None of your business,” Lan Zhan huffed.
The room they’d, well the room Lan Zhan had climbed into was clearly the photography studio proper. A bevy of cameras and props littered around the space. Lan Zhan marched right through it all for the doors on the other side. Thankfully, the first one she opened was the privy.
“You know, I normally would have climbed with you.” Wei Ying lingered in the doorway. “But these are new stockings.” She offered a handkerchief, as if it was a peace offering.
“This does not make up for it,” Lan Zhan muttered as she grabbed the handkerchief. “He just doesn’t have anything useful in here like a typical man.” She glanced around, finding the space packed with photography equipment but nothing to wash her hands with.
Wei Ying’s giggle was cut off by Lan Zhan’s glare.
“So, what is it I’m looking for?” Wei Ying questioned once Lan Zhan had finished cleaning herself. “I assume the photograph will have you in it?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed, turning her attention to analyzing the room around her.
The bathroom she’d been in clearly doubled as a dark room, but she hadn’t seen any negatives. Which meant they were stored somewhere out in the studio. She let Wei Ying linger in the props as she made her way over to the desk. With a low exhale, she began digging through the drawers.
Lan Zhan had to admit, she was surprised to see the negatives neatly filed under the date of the party. She’d had thought a private piece of herself would at least warrant a false bottom, or a locked drawer at least.
“What was that?” Wei Ying’s head shot up as Lan Zhan shut the door to the desk.
“Found them.” Lan Zhan crossed to the window. She held the strips out, watching as the sun slowly destroyed them.
“All that work, and I don’t even get a peek?” Wei Ying pouted as she made her way over.
“What work?” Lan Zhan snorted. “I climbed in and found them.”
“After I provided the address and the information he would be out,” Wei Ying shot back. “It did take a bit of work, you know. I had to get up before ten.”
“A true burden,” Lan Zhan huffed as she tossed the negatives out the window.
“So,” Wei Ying seemed to hesitate. “Is that it?”
“It would seem,” Lan Zhan exhaled.
“What about the photos, wasn’t he blackmailing you?”
“He hadn’t gotten that far,” Lan Zhan replied. “Nor was I going to let him.”
“Very proactive of you,” Wei Ying hummed. “So, then.” She paused. “Does this mean this is done?”
“It is,” Lan Zhan nodded. “Thank you for the imposition, as trivial as it was.” She inclined her head. “Goodbye.” She turned on her heel to head to the stairs.
“A shame,” She could hear Wei Ying murmur as she went. “I even planned to infiltrate that fancy party of his.”
Lan Zhan stopped short.
What do you think, eh? I always like to show my clients what I can do. A few of my prettiest shots. …….Well look there, I do think that is my finest shot, if I do say so myself. Going to make me a lot of money, this one .
Snippets of the night's conversation came flying back to Lan Zhan, stalling her in her tracks. How should she be so foolish? He wasn’t threatening blackmail, but he was clearly going to be using her shot as advertising.
Which meant he had a developed photo ready to go.
Lan Zhan spun back to the room, her eyes frantically searching.
“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying hurried over.
“His camera bag,” Lan Zhan breathed. “We need to find it.”
“We won’t,” Wei Ying offered as she joined the search. “My intel said he always keeps it on him. Claims he’ll never know when he’ll get the chance of a lifetime.”
“Shit,” Lan Zhan breathed as she slumped.
How was she supposed to get to his bag if he always had it?
“Lan Zhan? What’s wrong?”
“He might have developed the negative.” Lan Zhan licked at her dry lips. “He could have a copy on him.”
“That’s a big could,” Wei Ying replied. “We destroyed the negative, not like he could make more. No big deal.”
“It’s a very big deal.” Lan Zhan glared. “You keep treating this like some sort of game, but it’s not. This is my life.” She seethed. “It’s my life. I don’t want him using me! I’m not some pretty face for him to use for his gain!”
“Okay, it’s okay!” Wei Ying hurried to soothe. “This is perfect, actually, since I know exactly where he’s going to be tonight!”
“You do?”
“I do.” Wei Ying nodded. “A big cast party from my understanding. We can just slip in and rifle through his bag, we don’t even have to steal it.”
“Really?” Lan Zhan exhaled.
“Really.” Wei Ying smiled. “Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”
“Surely the party doesn’t start soon.”
“Oh most definitely it does not,” Wei Ying hummed. “But we can’t exactly go in looking like this, now can we?”
From the smile Wei Ying gave her, Lan Zhan was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like how they were supposed to look.
🎞️🎞️🎞️🎞️
If Wei Ying was supposed to be Lan Zhan’s fairy godmother, the world had a cruel sense of humor. Yet that was all Lan Zhan could think as she was whisked through the lobby of the Palace Hotel and up to Wei Ying’s suite, where an army of steamer trunks and suitcases occupied their own room. Some stood open, showing off the contents that covered everything from embroidered silk qipaos to western gowns dripping with beading.
Lan Zhan was awed, so she could have only imagined her sister’s pure delight if she saw the sight before her. She couldn’t help but gravitate to an open trunk as Wei Ying buzzed around, muttering to herself. Lan Zhan pulled out one of the dresses, her arm protesting at the sheer weight of the garment.
It was floor length, the long training skirt covered in an intricate clamshell-beaded pattern of silver and black over a pale blue silk. A large belt was set low around the hips, another beading pattern that reminded Lan Zhan of flower petals covering it. The top was brazenly open, cut away to show the interior tube of a top. It was glamorous in a way Lan Zhan could only dream of.
“If you like that one you’re welcome to wear it, it’s old news in Paris, which means it’s on trend here.” Wei Ying’s voice cut through Lan Zhan’s admiration. “I only wore it once, it’s a nightmare to try to dance in. A shame since it is gorgeous.” She reached out her hand, pulling at the skirt to fan out the design. The beading sparkled in the room’s light.
“I couldn’t.” Lan Zhan balked. She and her sister had ordered a completely new wardrobe in Shanghai, but nothing, not even Lan Zhan’s fur, would match even a fraction of the cost of this dress.
“You could, and you will.” Wei Ying dropped the skirt. “At least if you are wanting that photograph back.”
“It’s a cast party,” Lan Zhan recalled the information Wei Ying had given her. “This dress would be far too much.”
“So? Actors are a dramatic bunch, someone is going to be peacocking. Why can’t it be you?” Wei Ying hummed. Lan Zhan merely sighed as she shook her head. “Well, we’ll just save it for next time then.” Wei Ying turned away. “Just pick out something now, so we can plan the hair and makeup.”
There would be no next time, Lan Zhan sighed to herself as she placed the dress back in the trunk. Her gaze roamed the room. It was a party, there would be dancing and drinking. Not to mention they might need to run, or scale something in their pursuit. A qipao would make them stand out too much, so western style it would have to be. Lan Zhan’s eyes slid over the obviously longer dresses, seeking out the shorter hemlines.
Her eyes caught on a puff of tulle in soft blue. Light caught on the embroidery as she pulled it out, having been made in a darker blue metallic thread. Lan Zhan ran her hand over it, the embroidery work was all done on a tulle layer. Two longer strips of tulle hung loose, no doubt meant to be tied up when the dress was worn. The actual dress was a pale blue slip underneath. The skirt was loose, meaning there was plenty of space for movement.
“Is this one okay?” She questioned as she pulled it loose.
“You’ve got a good eye,” Wei Ying smiled. “Just got that one in from Vionnet.”
“You haven’t worn it yet?” Lan Zhan hesitated.
“No.” Wei Ying crossed the room, taking the dress from Lan Zhan before moving back over to a vanity that had been set up. “Blue isn’t my go-to choice, I tend to prefer reds and pinks. It is a charming dress, so I was thinking about having Madeleine send me it in another shade.” She eyed the dress as she hung it up next to the mirror. “Come sit, I can start on your makeup. Unless you know how to do it yourself?”
“I don’t.” Lan Zhan felt her ears flush as she sat down on the cushioned chair.
“I thought so, since you think perfume is frivolous,” Wei Ying hummed, leaning past Lan Zhan to search through the clutter of the vanity.
“I don’t think makeup is frivolous.” Lan Zhan flushed. “It’s just overwhelming, makeup too. The counters are intimidating, especially when they think you're stupid. Then there’s the comment about my skin tone.”
“Well, then let’s walk you through it.” Wei Ying smiled. Her hand paused to squeeze Lan Zhan’s shoulder in reassurance. She picked up a round compact, opening it to show a puff and powder. “Most start with powder to help even out their skin tone, though with skin like yours you hardly need it. If you have any issues with oil, this is also a good way to keep you from being too shiny. We could use it, but I’m a bit tanner than you are. My winter shade might work, but let’s not risk it, shall we?”
“Do I just match my skin tone?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“Yes, some go a bit lighter or darker, but it’s a personal preference.” Wei Ying nodded. “Which brings me to rouge.” She picked up a tin, popping it open to show to Lan Zhan. A red cream waited inside. “The woman at the counter is going to tell you to use a wet cotton, but I’ve found fingers work just fine for me.” She tapped her finger into the creme. “We want to go high on the cheeks, to invoke a youthful look.” She took Lan Zhan’s chin with her clean hand, tilting Lan Zhan’s face so she could dab the rouge on.
Lan Zhan turned back to the mirror when Wei Ying moved to clean her fingers off, only for her eyes to go wide. She looked like a clown with two circles of red on her cheeks!
“Don’t go panicking on me.” Wei Ying’s hand took Lan Zhan’s chin again. “I’m not done!” Her finger came back up, lightly patting away. “You can do the tip of your nose if you like, also your ears. Though I noticed yours take on their own color often enough.” Her eyes flickered away from her work to meet Lan Zhan’s for a moment. “I always rouge my knees when I go dancing.”
“Shameless.” Lan Zhan felt her ears flush as she muttered the word. Her gaze broke away from Wei Ying’s.
“You try dancing all night in silk stockings and no garter belt,” Wei Ying huffed. “The damn things are constantly falling down. Easier to roll them down and be done with it. There, what do we think now?”
Lan Zhan shifted, looking back into the mirror. Her eyes widened at the sight of her rosy cheeks. It was–she blinked, tilting her head as she tried to decide on a word–charming. She recalled her sister's blush only this morning; it looked closer to a fever than this subtle effect.
“Since your skins are already so fair, I didn’t want to go too heavy-handed. I used a pink instead of a red.” Wei Ying’s head came into the view of the mirror next to her, her eyes studying Lan Zhan’s reflection. “There are different colors; since I tan I tend to go with a darker red. For you though,” Wei Ying’s head tilted. “Pink.” She smiled with a nod.
Lan Zhan had to agree.
“We both have dark brows, so we don’t really need to fill them in,” Wei Ying hummed as she rummaged on her vanity again. “Maybe just pluck them thinner.”
“I’m good,” Lan Zhan protested as Wei Ying picked up a pair of tweezers.
“Then we move on to eyes.” Wei Ying dropped the tweezers. “Two points of attack, the pencil and mascara. With the pencil, draw just above your eyelash line and then smudge it out. I’m fond of doing my bottom line as well. Then mascara.” She held up another tin, popping it open to show the cake inside. “Wet with water and brush onto your lashes. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I do have to get quite close to do this part.” She turned the chair.
Lan Zhan took a sharp inhale as Wei Ying’s knees bumped against hers. She heard a huff of displeasure as the other women shuffled about, trying to find an angle. Even with Lan Zhan opening her legs, the skirt of her qipao was too tight to give her any space. Until at last, she let out a huff and sat in Lan Zhan’s lap, a leg on either side.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan lurched, her hands falling to her hips in an attempt to push her off.
“We’re both girls, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a bluenose.”
“A what?” The term threw Lan Zhan off.
“A prude.” Wei Ying rolled her eyes. “Besides, the longer you protest, the longer I’ll sit here.” She challenged.
All Lan Zhan could do was swallow dryly and not focus on the heat of Wei Ying sitting in her lap, or the way her skirt had rode up, showing off the top of her stockings. She was wearing a garterbelt today, it would seem. Lan Zhan’s gaze was pulled up as Wei Ying’s hand lifted her chin.
This made Lan Zhan realize just how close their faces were. Her eyes flickered down to Wei Ying’s lips, still painted red from the day. Except now Lan Zhan could see a small silver scar, hidden under a thin lay of powder just below her lip.
“Where did you get that scar?” Lan Zhan was unable to keep from asking.
“I chased after a trolley and missed,” Wei Ying hummed. Lan Zhan’s eyes narrowed at the spark of mischief in Wei Ying’s eyes. “Close your eyes for me?” She directed, changing the topic.
Lan Zhan let out a huff as she complied; she’d have to ask another time if it was the truth. Her other senses were flooded with the woman. Her perfume clogged her nose, while Wei Ying’s own breath was fluttering across Lan Zhan’s face. Wei Ying’s hand was soft as she angled Lan Zhan’s face, the pencil tugging at her eyelid.
The sensation was strange, sending her fingers curling into Wei Ying’s hips. She heard Wei Ying’s breath catch, the pencil’s movement pausing.
“Something wrong?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“No, nothing at all,” Wei Ying’s response was breathless. The pencil resumed its journey, Wei Ying’s hand growing warm from where it rested on Lan Zhan’s cheek.
Out of curiosity, Lan Zhan squeezed again. She fought to keep her lips from curling as Wei Ying stuttered again.
“Would you move your hands?” Wei Ying questioned.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed, sliding them down to rest on Wei Ying’s thighs. One of her fingers caught on the garter, and this time she allowed herself the barest hint of a smile. She waited for Wei Ying’s breathing to settle. The pencil shifted to her other eye.
And her finger slipped under Wei Ying’s garter.
“Ah, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying squirmed on her lap.
“Mn?”
“I, I’m not sure if you realize this, but you're playing with my garter,” Wei Ying nervously laughed.
“I apologize.” Lan Zhan’s finger slunk out from under it.
“No problem,” Wei Ying chuckled. “I’m almost done, so just bear with me.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed. She waited for the tugging along her eyelid before she let her fingers wander. Her fingers slid, fidgeting with the top of Wei Ying’s stocking next.
“Ah,” Wei Ying squirmed. “Open your eyes and look up for me?”
Lan Zhan complied, her eyes shifting just over Wei Ying’s head. They traced the crown molding of the room as her fingers fiddled with the edge of the stocking, traveling closer to Wei Ying’s inner thigh.
And the heat radiating from between them.
“Okay,” Wei Ying announced, her tone having a nervous lilt to it. “That’s all done, I’ll just go and wet the mascara.” She slipped from Lan Zhan’s lap, but Lan Zhan’s fingers were still in her stockings.
The garter clip gave out a twang as it was pulled taut. Lan Zhan’s eyes dropped, just in time to watch the clip lose its battle. It shot up into Wei Ying’s dress, pulling a gasp that sounded suspiciously like a moan from Wei Ying herself. The stocking slipped from Lan Zhan’s fingers, rolling down.
“Sorry.” Lan Zhan’s eyes roved over the length of the now exposed leg.
“See what I mean?” Wei Ying laughed nervously. “They’re always falling down. A hassle to clip too.”
“Let me.” Lan Zhan’s hand skimmed down the soft skin of Wei Ying’s leg, cupping her calf to guide the woman’s foot to rest on the chair next to her thigh.
One hand pushed the stocking back up, while the other slid up under Wei Ying’s skirt. Skin gave way to silk drawers, and Lan Zhan watched Wei Ying flush red as she searched for the metal garter clip.
It was unfortunately easy to find.
Lan Zhan tugged it out, clipping the stocking back in place. She lingered, tugging on the clip to check it was in place.
“Ah, thank you.” Wei Ying nodded as she swallowed. “I’ll just–” She held up the mascara tin before fleeing.
Lan Zhan watched her go, only to exhale once she left. What was she doing? Wei Ying was beautiful, but by all other traits infuriating. She pushed all of Lan Zhan’s buttons, not to mention her comfort zone. Twice today she’d done something she’d have sworn she’d never do. No doubt it would be the same this evening.
Besides, hadn’t Lan Zhan learned what trouble a pretty face could get her into?
She had to stop this now; they’d get her photograph back and that would be that. Chinatown was small, so there was no doubt they’d bump into each other, but that was all it would be. Lan Zhan couldn’t do anything to risk her or Lan Huan’s life here.
Even if Wei Ying looked so endearing when she was flustered.
“Here we are.” Wei Ying returned with tin in hand. Her face was significantly less red than when she’d left. She coated the brush as she approached, her pinky perching on Lan Zhan’s cheek bone as she held it up. “Blink.”
Lan Zhan did as she was told, repeating as instructed.
“Alright, the last thing is lipstick.” Wei Ying put the lid back on the mascara. “While a lot of it comes down to preference, I try to work with what I’m wearing. Red is a personal favorite, but for blue I tend to do peaches and pink shades. Which, honestly, would explain why I don’t wear blue that often.” Wei Ying paused as if to consider it.
“I’d prefer pink,” Lan Zhan offered, snapping the woman back into the moment.
“I think I have just the perfect shade too.” Wei Ying hummed as she hunted. “Here we are!” She picked it up. “Open.” She uncapped it, twisting the stick of pink out.
Lan Zhan complied, Wei Ying’s focus dropping to her lips as she applied it. If Wei Ying took longer than Lan Zhan thought necessary, her fingers gently cleaning up her work, Lan Zhan tried not to think too much about it. That path was closed to her.
“Rub together?” Wei Ying directed. Lan Zhan did, earning a hum of approval once she did. “There, pretty as a picture.” She pronounced.
Lan Zhan turned, and caught the first look of all of it in the mirror. Her eyes widened as she leaned in. Her head tilted as she took it in the different angles. She looked like one of the stars her sister loved so much. She might not care about that, but looking at herself, she looked grown up, defiant in a way. So different from the girl who’d left the port in Shanghai.
“Well?” Wei Ying hummed, her face appearing beside Lan Zhan’s in the mirror again. “What do you think?”
“I like it,” Lan Zhan complimented. “And the makeup counter will be far less intimidating.”
“I’m glad.” Wei Ying smiled. “I can take you to my favorite, largely because a delightful woman named Mao Hualing works it. She never fails to point me in the direction of what looks best on our complexions.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan replied diplomatically. Not wanting to promise anything.
“Now for hair,” Wei Ying clapped her hands. She reached into her vanity, pulling out an iron that looked a lot like Lan Huan’s. The only difference was that it had a long cord dangling from it. A shiver ran down Lan Zhan’s spine as she watched Wei Ying plug it into the wall.
“Surely there’s another way?”
“Not a fan of the iron?” Wei Ying paused.
“Not a fan of burning hair.”
“Don’t worry,” Wei Ying laughed. “I’m an old hand at it by now.” She winked. “If you want to go change? I’ll touch up my own makeup.”
“Alright.” Lan Zhan nodded, giving the electric curling iron one last glare before picking up her dress. “Which way is the bathroom?”
“What, too shy to change infront of me?” Wei Ying shot her a smirk. “Through the door there,” She pointed when Lan Zhan gave her no answer. “Let me know if you need different smalls.”
Lan Zhan slipped into the bathroom, letting out an exhale as the door shut. How could a woman balk one moment and then flirt the next? Lan Zhan shook her head, it didn’t matter. One night and they were done. She turned her attention towards unbuttoning her qipao.
Only to encounter a problem once she had the dress on. Her smalls, as Wein Ying named her underwear, weren’t sticking out, but the two strips of tulle that had been so enticing now hung limply around her waist. She tried to arrange the tulle over the top, giving her some sort of coverage.
“Lan Zhan, is everything all right?” Wei Ying’s voice accompanied a knock on the door. Lan Zhan let out another low sigh as she admitted defeat.
“I’m struggling with the tulle.”
“Oh, I saw how to do it back in Paris!” Wei Ying called. “Come out when you're ready and I can do it.”
Lan Zhan exhaled, letting the tulle drop. She glanced at herself in the mirror, her eyes trailing all the exposed skin. She’d expected the tulle to be a layer of protection, yet now she was completely defenseless. And before Wei Ying of all people.
But it wasn’t going to tie itself.
“Ah, let me just touch up this curl and I can do it,” Wei Ying called from her vanity. Lan Zhan let out a hum of acknowledgement as she moved into the room. “It’s hnh-” Wei Ying broke off as she turned.
Her eyes went directly to Lan Zhan’s exposed clavicle, before trailing down her arms. It was like Lan Zhan could feel it, a heat left in their wake. They ended up on her chest, and the smattering of cleavage Lan Zhan’s binding and the dress exposed.
“Wei Ying, your hair!” Lan Zhan jared as she saw the smoke. Wei Ying swore as she jerked. Her hands quickly released the curl from around the barrel.
Only for the hair to drift to the floor.
“You–” Lan Zhan stared at the hair.
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying scrambled for it. “I promise I won’t do that to your hair! It was just you came out and looked beautiful,” She stammered. “I just forgot what I was doing.”
“Mn.” Lan Zhan looked at the curling iron doubtfully as Wei Ying set it down. Her eyes went back up to Wei Ying’s hair, more actually the stub that was left. “Your hair?”
“Well,” Wei Ying lowered herself to look in the mirror. “I’ve been wanting to try out fringe?” She reached up to play with it, only to exhale as she somehow made it blend in. “Or maybe not.” She tilted her head in consideration. “Anyway, let's get you finished.”
She gestured Lan Zhan over to the vanity, stepping behind her once she had. Lan Zhan watched Wei Ying’s hands arrange it at her shoulder, deftly tying it in a way to create a flounce that cascaded down her arm. They moved next to Lan Zhan’s hips, tying it again in the same way.
“You look stunning,” Wei Ying breathed. Her eyes rose to meet Lan Zhan. “Blue really is a good color for you.” She smiled. Lan Zhan couldn’t remember, had Wei Ying had that blush on her cheeks when she came in? “Sit,” Wei Ying hummed. “I’lll do your hair.”
“Can’t we just put it in a bun?” Lan Zhan sat.
“I suppose I could just do some clever arrangement,” Wei Ying sighed. “But I do think you’d look stunning in a wave.”
“My sister mentioned pin curls?”
“They work the best overnight,” Wei Ying hummed as she unplugged the iron. She instead picked up a brush, pulling out Lan Zhan’s bun. “Though, your braids means I’m not working with nothing.” She observed.
“How did you learn all of this?” Lan Zhan questioned as Wei Ying worked.
“Came with the training to be a society lady,” Wei Ying hummed.
“But it’s so,” Lan Zhan paused, looking for a word. “Western.”
“Because I was trained for Western Society.” Wei Ying smiled. “The Honorable Lady title isn’t for show,” She hummed. “My father’s a Lord, well, a Viscount if you want to be specific.” Lan Zhan could only blink in surprise at her. “English, though not for the lack of protest. Ultimately, it came down to everyone else being dead. Courtesy of the Great War, and my merchant grandfather Baoshan who impregnated a Viscount's Daughter.”
“So you're not American?”
“That’s,” Wei Ying tilted her head. “Complicated.” She exhaled. “I was born here. My mother came to America as a mui tsai , a servant for Jiang Cheng’s mother. My father was supposed to be a suitor for her, but he took one look at my mother and fell in love. She was given her employer's blessing and they ran off together. The rest is, well, me.”
“So they live in England?”
“When they’re not traveling.” Wei Ying nodded. “I grew up following him around, but we often returned here for long stints.”
“So is this home?”
“As much as anywhere I suppose.” Wei Ying shrugged. “I came back when Jiang Cheng got married and haven’t found a reason to leave yet. What about you?”
“Nothing as exciting,” Lan Zhan murmured. “My sister and I fled arranged marriages.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Wei Ying smiled.
“My mother’s family was strict, once she died it was clear they wanted to be rid of us. We came back from school to find a matchmaker waiting,” She murmured. “So we took our dowry and ran.”
“I’m sure the eligible bachelors of China weeped the moment you stepped on that ship,” Wei Ying chuckled. “There, all done.” Her hands fell to Lan Zhan’s shoulders.
Lan Zhan eyed her work. She’d managed to create a swooping effect in her hair to mirror a finger wave style. The rest of her hair was arranged in coiled buns, hidden by the swoop of hair. Before she could get a good look, Wei Ying was talking.
“Come on, let’s get you in front of a mirror so you can see the whole picture!” Wei Ying tugged her up.
Lan Zhan followed, stepping into the view of the mirror. With her makeup and the dress, she looked like a completely different person. She spun, the dress flaring out. A smile curved her lips.
“Ah, shoes!” Wei Ying realized. “Thankfully we’re close to the same size.” She scurried off. She came back with a matching pair of pumps. Lan Zhan quickly switched them out, glancing back into the mirror.
“As pretty as a picture,” Wei Ying hummed as she took in the full look. It was only a chiming of a clock that propelled her back into motion. “I should get moving if we want to make it to that party!”
Lan Zhan watched her move back toward the vanity. Her hands flying through the process she’d taken the time to explain earlier. She fiddled with the chunk of hair, the debate clear on her face.
“Oh!” She suddenly straightened. An idea sparking in her eyes. She hurried over to her trunks, looking for something.
“What are you looking for?” Lan Zhan moved forward.
“A dress, hand painted silk in a red and-ah!” Wei Ying broke off with a cry.
Lan Zhan watched as she lifted a dress out of a trunk with a flourish. Lan Zhan’s eyes were drawn to the pattern, a light yellow base with abstract red and orange design that reminded Lan Zhan a bit of the embroidery on her own dress. A large red fabric belt decorated the drop waist skirt, its tails joining the voluminous handkerchief skirt.
“If I remember right,” Wei Ying’s hand slid into the dress through the scoop neck. “I’m right!” She pulled out a wide red satin ribbon. “No use putting it in now,” She hummed as she laid it on the vanity.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan lurched as the woman suddenly bent, her dress flying off over her head. The woman was left only in silken drawers and a western style brassiere. Her eyes roved down her torso, taking in the lace detail of the brassiere and the trim waist before Lan Zhan realized what she was doing.
She spun, knowing her ears would put the rouge to shame.
“Come on, Lan Zhan, it’s not like I’m naked.” Wei Ying scoffed. The sound of rustling fabric followed. “Even then, not anything you don’t already have.”
Lan Zhan resisted the urge to say that clearly Wei Ying’s rear was much larger than her own. The silk drawers made it look even more squeezable. Lan Zhan tried to clear her mind, waiting until the rustling fabric stopped.Or at least fell back into the realm of Wei Ying merely moving around.
When she turned, Wei Ying was sitting in front of her vanity. Her hands were deftly wrapping the silk ribbon around her hair, fashioning a piece that was somewhere between a headband and a turban.
“There,” Wei Ying admired herself. “That will do until I decide what to do with that piece.” She nodded. She stood, letting Lan Zhan see the whole picture.
The asymmetrical draping of the skirt whirled around her legs as she walked. A dress that, very much like its owner never, seemed to stand still. And, like its owner, was hard to look away from. Wei Ying stepped in front of the mirror, her eyes critically running over her image.
“Jewelry, how could I forget?” Her hand went to her forehead. “I’d avoid necklaces with that dress.” She turned to Lan Zhan. “Maybe a bracelet and some earrings though. Are your ears pierced?”
“They are,” Lan Zhan hummed, following Wei Ying as she moved out of the room. Her eyes widened as Wei Ying opened the room safe, withdrawing a few of the jewelry boxes within.
“Here,” She held out a pair of drop earrings. “The aquamarine should go nicely with your dress. And for your wrist,” She lifted out a delicate chain bracelet. Lan Zhan held out her wrist as she hooked one of the earrings in. Wei Ying’s fingers were quick to clasp the bracelet.
Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying picked items out for herself as she did the other earring. A string of black pearls and a pair of matching teardrop shaped earrings. Wei Ying paused, a look of thought crossing her face. It ended as her head dropped, her gaze going to her shoes.
“I’ll be right back!” She scurried back off to her wardrobe. “Oh, why don’t you call down to the front desk and have them bring the car around.”
“Car?” Lan Zhan questioned, but Wei Ying was already gone. She glanced around the room, her gaze falling onto the ornate phone sitting on one of the sideboards. The receiver was heavy as she lifted it from its cradle, her fingers tapping the line as she lifted it to her ear.
“Palace Hotel Switchboard,” A chipper voice sounded. “How may I direct your call?”
“I need to call a car around?” Lan Zhan replied, realizing she was uncertain as to how one would go about that.
“Let me see which room - Wei Ying?” The voice broke off. “You don’t sound like Wei Ying.”
“I am not.” Lan Zhan looked back to the room Wei Ying had yet to emerge from. “She’s finishing getting ready. She asked me to call down to bring the car around.”
“I’ll get right on that,” The woman on the other side hummed. “Would you pass a message on to Wei Ying for me?”
“I can.” Lan Zhan nodded.
“Well, she asked me to look into a woman. I took a longshot and mentioned her to my new friend, and what do you know! They’re sisters. Fresh off the boat from Shanghai and ready to make a new life in America. They haven’t even been here long enough for me to dig up any dirt on them, which is impressive. Then again, if Lan Zhan is anything like her sister, she’s probably innocent as a newborn fawn.”
“Lan Zhan?” Lan Zhan repeated her own name.
“Yes, that’s the woman she asked me to look into.” The switch operator hummed.
“Did she say why?” Lan Zhan’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Just that she was considering doing her a favor, but wanted to make sure she was the right kind of people first.” The switch operator replied almost flippantly. “Seeing how the last girl she helped out nearly got her killed, I applaud the decision. So just pass on that this Lan Zhan was squeaky clean.”
“Alright, ready to go!” Wei Ying announced as she waltzed back into the room. She saw Lan Zhan still on the phone, and let out a sigh as she marched over. Her hand held out.
The switch operator was still talking as Wei Ying took the receiver.
“Huaisang, you're going to bore my guest to death!” Wei Ying admonished. “Passing on a message?” Her eyebrow raised as she looked at Lan Zhan. She fell silent as she listened, the switchboard operator’s voice nothing more than crackles to Lan Zhan. “I’d love to chat more Huaiasang, but if we don’t dash now, we’ll miss the party. I promise you all the details the next time we chat.” She blew a kiss into the phone before hanging up. “Sorry about that, she does love to chat. Perfect for learning all the best gossip; she used to run a board in Chinatown until I recommended her to the staff here. I’d mourn the loss of gossip, but she’ll sniff it out anyway. But, we really do need to get going!”
Lan Zhan eyed the woman as she followed her out. Was she really not going to say anything? The message was that her attempt to dig up information on Lan Zhan had found nothing. While that relieved Lan Zhan, it didn’t hide the fact that Wei Ying was looking into her.
“You were looking into me?” Lan Zhan couldn’t hold it anymore as they stood in the silence of the elevator. She might have worried the lift operator would listen in, but the boy’s eyes were so vacant she felt safe.
“So Huaisang did tell you,” Wei Ying hummed. “Of course I looked into you. I had to know what I was getting myself into.”
“And?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“And what?”
“What did you decide?”
“I’m helping you, aren’t I?” Wei Ying looked at her.
“But you hadn’t heard from the operator yet.”
“Well that’s because Auntie Wu had already gotten back to me,” Wei Ying hummed. “Since the only thing she had to complain about was that you and your sister were here without a chaperone, everything pointed in your favor.”
“What if the operator had uncovered something?” Lan Zhan fired back.
“Well,” Wei Ying smiled, her head tilted as she eyed Lan Zhan. “I’d decided by then that you were worth the curiosity. I’m dying to know what kind of trouble a goody two shoes like you could get into so fresh off the boat.”
All Lan Zhan could do was huff, her attention turning back to the dial at the top of the elevator. Her eyes watched the arrow countdown. She heard Wei Ying shift closer, she could feel the heat coming off of her.
“Come on, aren’t you going to tell me?”
“Why should I?” Lan Zhan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.
“Because I’m helping you,” Wei Ying pouted. She’d touched up her lipstick, a fresh coat of red. The scar had a fresh coat of powder over it too, hiding it from view. A pity in Lan Zhan’s eyes. Without it she’d have another excuse to look at Wei Ying’s lips.
“You did not ask for payment of any kind.” Lan Zhan’s eyes moved back to the elevator dial.
“Well, consider this payment.” Wei Ying huffed. The dreaded payment. As much as Lan Zhan would love for her repayment to be easy, it didn’t sit right with her. Luckily, she had been taught how to haggle. While it would probably mean another meeting, it should be easy enough to cut ties after that.
“Payment should be discussed at the beginning of a deal,” Lan Zhan replied flatly. “If I give you this, no doubt you’ll come to me in a few hours demanding something else.”
“How shrewd!” Wei Ying gasped.
“Am I wrong?” Lan Zhan arched an eyebrow. She took joy in watching Wei Ying’s face scowl. “Due to a lack of discussion, compensation will be offered in equal value to what is received. A favor.”
“A favor?” A smirk played on Wei Ying’s lips. “Then I-”
“Revealing the nature of my problem is not of equal value.” Lan Zhan cut her off.
“Why not?” Wei Ying demanded as the elevator jarred to a stop. The gated doors opened.
“Merely telling you a story does not have the same weight.” Lan Zhan led the way out of the elevator. “Our favors would be unequal, thus leaving the door open for you to attempt to use that imbalance to extort another favor later. Your favor should require me to go just as out of my way as you’ve done for me.”
“You’d make an excellent businessman.” Wei Ying rolled her eyes. “I take that back, you should be a lawyer with that kind of forethought.”
“I am merely proactive,” Lan Zhan replied flatly. Her eyes scanned the lobby, noticing how eyes followed their progress through it. Especially male gazes. “I’ve seen how bad negotiations can affect lives.”
“Oh?” Wei Ying breathed. “Does this have something to do with why you left China?” Lan Zhan looked at her, her jaw clicking shut. “It does,” Wei Ying shifted closer. “You know, the more you talk to me, the more fascinating you become, Lan Zhan.”
“Then I will refrain from speaking further,” Lan Zhan replied.
Only for Wei Ying’s laugh to fill the lobby. Those who weren’t looking at them were now. Lan Zhan felt her ears flush, her pace quickening.
“You are too funny.” Wei Ying matched her pace. Her arm looped through Lan Zhan’s. “I’m glad to have found you, things have gotten so dull with Jiang Cheng being pregnant.”
“We are not-”
“I thought you weren’t talking any more?” Wei Ying grinned.
All Lan Zhan could do was snap her jaw shut and glare.
Wei Ying’s attention was quickly drawn away by the rumble of an engine. Lan Zhan knew it was Wei Ying’s car the moment she saw it. The sleek curves were painted bright red, accented with silver. Lan Zhan eyed the open top, glad she got a good look at herself before all the hard work was lost.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Wei Ying sighed as she looked at the car. “A Bentley Speed Six, the same model has won the twenty four hours of Le Mans for the last three years.” She beamed. “I had her fitted the same as the most recent winner.”
“Very useful in the city,” Lan Zhan couldn’t resist commenting dryly.
“You’ve never driven in the city,” Wei Ying snorted. “You need something fast and reliable, if you want to get anywhere on time.”
“Strange,” Lan Zhan murmured as she started walking down towards the car. “I walk and always arrive on time.”
“You!” Wei Ying’s laugh soared to the heavens. “Clearly, I must convert you to the ways of the automobile.” She climbed into the driver’s seat. “I am not afraid to resort to an oceanside picnic to convert you.”
“I do not see how that would sway me.” Lan Zhan’s eyes went to the city as they drove by. It helped to hide the smirk on her face.
Her grandparents had an automobile, nothing sporty like this. It was fashionable, but designed to have a driver. It was always preferred to take it rather than walk. Still, walking afforded her and her sister the chance for privacy. The driver was, after all, paid by their grandparents.
“You don’t see how?” Wei Ying scoffed. “I’d like to see you walk to the beach.” She muttered.
Their drive settled into silence. The open cab of the Bently didn’t lend itself to conversation, unless one wanted to shout above the wind and the engine. She did have to admit, the Bently was far smoother than her grandparents car.
“Where is this party?” Lan Zhan braved shouting as the drive grew longer.
“A private estate,” Wei Ying shouted back.
“How did you get invitations?”
“Who said I got invitations?” Wei Ying’s grin was as loud as her shout. “Don’t worry, this won’t be the first or last time I crash a party.”
“Speak for yourself.” Lan Zhan slunk in the seat.
The estate appeared before Lan Zhan was ready. Automobiles flocked its drive like flies on a corpse. Throngs of fashionable men and women roamed about. Their voices sounded off with calls and greetings, like a flock of birds.
“Just act natural,” Wei Ying coached as she parked. “Call out to a few people, most of the time they’re too terrified to admit they don’t remember you.”
“Won’t they notice?” Lan Zhan kept her voice low.
“Notice what?”
“That we’re Chinese.”
“Please, with the way we’re dressed, our faces are the last place they’ll be looking.” Wei Ying snorted. “But, if someone does try to have a go at us, well,” She paused with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be able to put that sharp tongue of yours to use.” She winked.
Surprisingly, that made Lan Zhan feel better as she slipped from the car. Wei Ying practically skipped to join her. Her arm linked with Lan Zhan, the free hand raising as her voice shifted. “It’s so good to see you again!” She waved to a group of women nearby.
Lan Zhan could only watch with surprise as their faces, after a moment's pause, lit up and they waved back. Lan Zhan’s heart rabbeted into her throat as the woman slowed their pace to walk with them. Only to be blown away as Wei Ying’s vague prompts led the woman into supplying the supposed party they’d met at. Wei Ying had gone as far to do her a favor, introducing Lan Zhan as her new friend who was visiting. Excusing her from having to fit into the lie.
They were in the Estate before Lan Zhan could realize it. In the estate proper, men and women were lingering in conversion. Cigarette and cigar smoke curled between them as they chatted, leaning against pillars or seated anywhere they could find. Jazz trickled in from somewhere outside of Lan Zhan’s sight, but only grew louder as they followed the flow.
They were deposited on to a back patio, the jazz reaching full volume. The flagstone space had become a clear dance floor, while a lavish table stood to the side. A pyramid of glasses was slowly being decimated, carried off by party goers. While a buffet table was picked at like a carcass.
“Gatsby couldn’t do better himself,” Wei Ying hummed as she looked over the party. “It’s a-”
“I’m aware of the book,” Lan Zhan interjected. “I can’t say I was a fan.”
“Oh? Let me guess, you prefer the classics like the Tao Te Ching or the Annalects.” Wei Ying snorted.
“My education might have started there,” Lan Zhan hummed, her eyes roving over the party goers as she searched for the photographer. “But if we’re discussing favorites, it would have to be Ling Shuhua.”
“I’m not familiar with him.” Wei Ying blinked.
“Her,” Lan Zhan corrected. “Her works are mostly short stories.”
“I’ll have to look her up, then,” Wei Ying smiled. “For now, I suggest we blend in to start. Which means either drinking or dancing, your preference?” Lan Zhan leveled a look at her. “Right,” Wei Ying’s smile grew. “Should I ask them to throw on a waltz?”
“ Tao Te Ching , waltzes,” Lan Zhan felt annoyance flash through her as she snorted. “I didn’t peg you for being so old fashioned.” She started for the dance floor, her fingers tapping along her side as she felt out the rhythm.
She fell into the motion, the step back and then forward. The soles of her shoes wiggled as she did, her arms starting to swing. She joined the rest of the crowd in the Charleston, throwing a look back at Wei Ying as she improvised a spin, one foot staying planted as the other tapped out the circle around it. Her hands were like one of the images of a hula dancer she’d seen.
“You know how to Chaleston?” Wei Ying laughed as her eyes roamed over her form.
“Find out,” Lan Zhan held her hand out.
Wei Ying’s smile only grew as she did. The two of them fell into step, both of them light on the balls of their feet as they kicked and turned. Lan Zhan’s joy only grew as Wei Ying started to improvise, volleying back to Lan Zhan’s own improvisations.
It was true Lan Zhan didn’t drink or smoke, but it was also true that Lan Huan wouldn’t have been able to drag her to that party unless there was something that caught her interest. It was, of course, dancing. Lan Zhan had always loved it, from the traditional ones she learned as a child to the new ones trickling in from the West.
And it had been what had brought her attention at the last party she’d attended.
A thought that occurred just as the song ended, the energy of the Charleston fading as the tune slowed. Lan Zhan caught her breath as she looked around. A number of dancers were drifting off the floor, those that remained partnering up.
“I suppose we’re left with drinking,” Wei Ying sighed.
“Who says that?” Lan Zhan took her hand. She pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist as she fell into the steps of a waltz.
“The Charleston and the Waltz,” Wei Ying arched an eyebrow as she followed. “Just when I think you’re done surprising me.”
“Is it so surprising I dance?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“It’s just you’re so serious!” Wei Ying grinned.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Lan Zhan tilted her head.
“Speaking of looks,” Wei Ying’s eyes left Lan Zhan’s face. Instead they swept the area around them. “See your photographer anywhere?”
“Mn.” Lan Zhan shook her head, scanning the crowd. “He’s probably somewhere in the house.” No doubt in the shadiest cranny he could find.
“The safest bet is to dance another song or two,” Wei Ying hummed. “If anyone pegs us as crashers, they’ll write it off as us just coming to dance.”
“A shame,” Lan Zhan deadpanned.
“We’ll have to see how many dances you’ve learned.” Wei Ying’s grin turned into a smirk. “Or how fast a learner you are.”
“Let’s just hope you can keep up,” Lan Zhan volleyed back.
“Oh, I assure you I can.” Wei Ying spun out, striking a pose as the song ended.
The trumpet went roaring off into the next song, though while Lan Zhan followed it into a Charleston, she noticed her steps weren’t quite right. It took a moment’s study, but she picked up the changes.
“This one is called Black Bottom,” Wei Ying shouted as she raised her hands to her ears, her elbows flapping like a chicken. It was utterly ridiculous.
But Lan Zhan had to admit it was exhilarating.
Both of them had worked up a sheen of sweat by the end. Wei Ying’s hand went to Lan Zhan’s as the next song started, pulling her off the dance floor. Wei Ying snagged as glass from the ravaged tower, gulping it down.
“Do you need something?” Wei Ying asked as she looked around.
“Water,” Lan Zhan nodded.
“Looks like we’ll have to go into the house to search for some.” Wei Ying cast a look around. “A perfect cover,” She added in a lower tone with a wink.
Lan Zhan nodded. She trailed after Wei Ying as they made their way into the house, only to find that water was as elusive as their photographer.
“Come on, we can just fill my cup up in the bathroom or kitchen, if we can find our way back,” Wei Ying huffed after they’d searched the full first floor. “I can’t believe they didn’t set out water!” She muttered.
“Mn.” Lan Zhan nodded, too parched at this point to offer a polite defense. “There’s probably a bathroom upstairs.”
“I’m sure, but what’s the point in going up there?”
“Well, he’s not on the first floor.” Lan Zhan was grateful for the excuse.
“I suppose,” Wei Ying sighed. “And the bathrooms should be less busy up there, we can drink our fill!” She raised her empty cup in a cheer.
It was easy to slip up the stairs, the din of the party below fading with each step. At first it seemed to be giving way to silence, but as they moved into the landing, Lan Zhan’s ears began to prick with the acknowledgement of other noises. Ones of the night, but by no means quite.
Seeing no figures lurking in doorways, Lan Zhan feared they might have to open a few.
“Look, a bathroom,” Wei Ying pointed. Her tone was cheery, as if she wasn’t hearing the same things Lan Zhan was. She took off, heels clacking down the wooden hall. Lan Zhan scurried after her, trying to keep her heels softer.
“I must admit, after all this I am quite parched myself.” Wei Ying sighed as she ran the tap in the bathroom sink. She slid the martini glass underneath it, filling it to the brim.
“You first.” Lan Zhan shook her head as Wei Ying offered it to her. She lingered in the bathroom doorway, her eyes flickering back down the hall in the hopes she’d see him lingering.
“If you insist,” Wei Ying hummed as she gulped the water down, before quickly refilling it. “Do you think he’s in one of the rooms?”
“He might.” Lan Zhan nodded as she took the glass. She eyed Wei Ying as she took a sip. “Do you have a plan for that?”
“I’m afraid not,” Wei Ying snorted. “Other than opening doors, but I don’t have a cover for that.”
Lan Zhan drained the martini glass, as if the water could give her the courage of the spirit it once contained.
“Clearly we just pretend we’re looking for a room,” Lan Zhan sighed.
“That won’t work,” Wei Ying huffed a laugh.
“Why not?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“Because we’re two women.” Wei Ying rolled her eyes, as if it was obvious. Lan Zhan could only blink at her.
“Why is that a problem?”
“Why is it?” Wei Ying scoffed. “Why would two women be looking for a room? It’s not like they’re going to have sex.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Lan Zhan’s grip tightened on the martini glass.
“Well,” Wei Ying’s face was flushing. “It’s not like the proper equipment is there.”
The answer was so unexpected it ripped a laugh from Lan Zhan.
“Proper?” Lan Zhan couldn’t resist teasing, only to lose it to her laugh.
“You know, I’d find your laugh very adorable if it wasn’t directed at me!” Wei Ying sputtered.
“And why is that?” Lan Zhan questioned. She pushed off of the doorway she was leaning on. She set the martini glass down on the toilet.
“What?”
“Why do you find my laugh adorable?” Lan Zhan hummed as she advanced.
“I,” Wei Ying stammered, searching for an answer as she stumbled back. “Because you're adorable.” She finally blurted, as if her hitting the doorway knocked it out of her.
“Adorable?” Lan Zhan repeated, she’d hoped for something a little more.
“Well…” Wei Ying squirmed. “I mean you're gorgeous, like goddess levels of beauty, but the way you respond to me is just so cute. Like you're becoming human just for me.” Her face was redder than her rouge now, her eyes flickering down to Lan Zhan’s lips.
“And what, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan reached up, her thumb rubbing away the powder that covered that little scar. “Do you think two women who find each other beautiful do to each other?” She whispered.
“I,” Wei Ying swallowed. Her eyes flickering between Lan Zhan’s lips and her gaze. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded small and breathless.
“Do you want me to show you?” Lan Zhan murmured as she leaned in. Her breath fanned across Wei Ying’s face. Lan Zhan watched it send a shiver down Wei Ying’s body, the woman’s hands tightened in her skirts.
Lan Zhan wanted those hands on her. She wanted to feel them slide down her waist, trail across her thighs. She wanted to feel them sinking into her, stretching her open and sending her into a realm where the only thing that existed was pleasure.
But first, she wanted to feel those lips on hers. She wanted to kiss the red from them, only to paint them back to red with her own lips. She wanted to know how they tasted, how they gasped.
Except something in the back of her mind reminded her that this wasn’t a random woman she’d never run into again. Wei Ying was heavily involved in Chinatown, and relatively respected. If she spoke out against Lan Zhan, it wouldn’t end well for Lan Zhan. So despite her want, she needed to wait.
“I,” Wei Ying’s breath was hot against Lan Zhan’s lips. Her tongue lashed out, almost breaking Lan Zhan’s will. “Yes, I do.”
It was all the allowance Lan Zhan needed. Her lips surged forward to meet Wei Ying’s. She’d feared Wei Ying would be timid, unreceptive. Instead the woman was a wildfire, her body surging up to meet Lan Zhan’s. Her arms curved around Lan Zhan’s neck, her head tilting to deepen the kiss.
Only for it all to shatter at the sound of a camera shutter.
Lan Zhan jerked, her arms tightening around Wei Ying as she met the gaze of a camera lens. She heard a mewl of protest from Wei Ying, and a press of lips against the corner of her mouth.
“Ladies,” His voice sounded. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, but I’ve got a wonderful proposition for you.”
“We don’t want to hear it.” Lan Zhan felt her anger flare. “Give me your film.”
“Whoa there little lady.” The photographer held his hands up. His camera dropped, saved only by the strap. “I’m an artist, only I get to choose when and where my art gets sold.”
“And we have a right to privacy,” Wei Ying joined the conversation. Her body shifted, as if she was planning on protecting Lan Zhan from this man.
She had lipstick smeared around her mouth, but the sight made Lan Zhan’s heart lurch.
“Doll, you were necking with the door open.” The photographer laughed. “Seems to me you want to be seen, and I can make that dream happen for you. There’s a good market for this kind of stuff. I can show you some of my portfolio, surely we can come to an arrangement.”
“We won’t-”
“We’d love to see your portfolio,” Lan Zhan cut Wei Ying off.
“I knew you’d come around,” The photographer smiled. “Why don’t we take this discussion somewhere more private, hm?” He jerked his head.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying hissed as she started to follow.
“Trust me,” Lan Zhan murmured, reaching up to whip away some of the smeared lipstick. Wei Ying glared at the photographer's back, but nodded all the same.
He led them into a bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them. Lan Zhan worked to keep her breath even as he locked the door. He crossed to the bed, setting the satchel down on it.
“Now, you might have some concerns about the obscenity law, but I can assure you, as the distributor, I’m taking all the risk here.” The photographer was starting a spiel. “Which is why, understandably, I’ll be taking the larger cut of the proceeds. Now if you’ll-”
“We aren’t making a deal with you,” Lan Zhan couldn’t stand it anymore. She shifted, planting herself between the man and the door. “You’ve taken our photos without our permission, you’ll hand the film and the photos over to us.”
“That’s real sweet, but I ain’t handing anything over.” The photographer rolled his eyes. “As I said, I’m the artist and I get to choose- whoa, whoa whoa!” He broke off, his hands going towards the sky.
Lan Zhan blinked, turning only as she saw a glint of metal.
It belonged to a small caliber pistol, nestled in Wei Ying’s palm.
“It sounds like you’re already planning on selling them,” Wei Ying huffed. “So I suggest we settle on a price right now.” She cocked the pistol. “You’ve got six tries to give me the answer I want to hear.”
“Free!” The man scrambled at his camera in a panic. “I’ll hand it over for free! Here you go, no bad blood between us, eh?” He practically threw the film at Lan Zhan. It hit her chest with a thump, but she caught it before it hit the ground. “See, all good here! So why don’t we go our separate ways?”
“Turn out your bag,” Wei Ying gestured with her pistol.
“Hey, come on here, I’ve already given you what you want.”
“I’m sorry, did I stutter?” Wei Ying’s finger went to the trigger.
“Turn out the bag, no problem!” The man scrambled to comply. The contents hit the floor, film canisters and photos scattering like shotgun pellets.
Lan Zhan surged forward, her eyes quickly scanning through the contents.
“Hey, hold on,” The man murmured as he leaned forward. “I know you, don’t I?”
“No you don’t,” Lan Zhan snapped, continuing her search.
“Yeah, I do!” He breathed. “You were in the best shot I ever took! Taste of the Forbidden East I’m going to call it, it’ll be a hotcake.”
“Ugh, that’s such a tacky name,” Wei Ying sneered. “No imagination.”
“Hey, I think it’s catchy!” The photographer protested.
Lan Zhan let out a huff as she saw it, a thin envelope labeled Taste of the Forbidden East . She flipped it open, her own face looking back at her. She snapped it shut as she stood.
“Do you have more of these printed?” She demanded as she held it up.
“I’m a print on demand business,” The man replied. “But I already got twelve orders for it.” He smiled. “So what do you say? You and me, we could make a killing on a few more snapshots. Especially with your friend here. Hell, I’m already hot just thinking about it. You mind if I-”
Lan Zhan watched a tooth sail from the man’s mouth as her fist connected. She let out a grunt of pain as she shook her fist. The knuckles were already starting to turn red from the impact.
“You should have let me shoot him.” Wei Ying pouted as she came forward. Her foot lashed out to kick the tent in the man’s slacks.
“This is quieter,” Lan Zhan offered.
“Well, it’s not like he can tell the police about us,” Wei Ying sighed. Lan Zhan looked over, seeing the woman’s gun raised to the ceiling.
“You brought a gun?” Lan Zhan arched an eyebrow.
“Seemed like a good idea.” Wei Ying shrugged. “Granted, I was planning for self defense, and not coercion.”
“Thank you,” Lan Zhan breathed.
“No problem.” Wei Ying smiled. “And don’t worry, an anonymous tip is going to be left with the police about his fragrant breach of the obscenity laws.” She winked.
“Then we should leave before he wakes up.” Lan Zhan nodded.
“Lead the way.” Wei Ying hiked up her skirt, tucking the pistol back into her garter. Lan Zhan was stuck for a moment, staring at the sight until the skirt dropped back down. “Oh, I know a nifty trick for locking him in.” She winked as they exited the room. “Can I borrow that envelope?” She questioned once the door was closed.
Lan Zhan handed it over, watching as Wei Ying slid it under the door. She pulled a long metal object out of her purse, sliding it into the lock. Lan Zhan heard a thunk against the floor. A smile played on her lips as Wei Ying slid the envelope back out, the key sitting on top of it.
“I suggest we throw this in the bushes on the way out.” Wei Ying winked.
They both jumped at the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Wei Ying’s hand taking Lan Zhan’s as they darted off in the direction of the other stairs. Lan Zhan’s heart pounded in her chest as they ran, only stopping once they’d returned to the Palace Hotel.
“I still can’t believe his face when you hit him!” Wei Ying gushed for the umpteenth time. “It was just, pow, out of nowhere!” She laughed. “We should have looked for his tooth as a souvenir!”
“Mn.” Lan Zhan couldn’t help but smile.
Despite the giddiness flooding through her, hope fluttered in her chest as fragile as a baby bird. Maybe getting her photo back had made her bold, that she was taking it as proof that she could get away with having something like this.
“I haven’t had this much fun in,” Wei Ying kicked off her shoes. “Well, I don’t know!” She laughed. “Did you have fun?” Her giddiness seemed to fade, a serious tone settling in.
That bird fluttered in Lan Zhan’s heart.
“I did,” She slowly admitted. She watched Wei Ying’s smile grow brighter.
“Oh.” She jumped. “I suppose you’ll want this,” She shoved the envelope at Lan ZHan. “Sorry, I took it for the key trick and then just held on to it. I got to know, though,” She paused. “This isn’t all just that old superstition that the camera steals your soul, is it?”
“No,” Lan Zhan huffed in laughter.
“So what is it?” Wei Ying’s fingers played along the edge of the envelope. There was no intent to open it, just fiddling.
“I believe some things should only be seen by a person and their lover,” Lan Zhan said, only to watch Wei Ying’s face fall.
“Ah,” She chuckled. “Then I’ll just give this back to you.” She held it out.
Lan Zhan resisted groaning. How could Wei Ying be this dense?
“Keep it.” She shook her head as she stood.
“Oh, well,” Wei Ying breathed. “I’ll just burn it for you.”
“You can open it,” Lan Zhan replied. She fought the urge to sigh or roll her eyes.
“But you said it was for just you and your lover.” Wei Ying blinked.
“I did.”
“So why are you letting me look?”
“Think for yourself,” Lan Zhan snapped as her patience wore thin. She moved off to Wei Ying’s wardrobe, her heart racing. It only evened out as she heard no sign of Wei Ying following her. She sighed as she changed back into her qipao, pausing to look at herself in the mirror.
How different she felt than from how the day started, as if she was embarking on a new path. A path that would apparently just lead her home for the night. Still, the bird, while bruised, still perched in her heart. She exited the wardrobe, blinking as she found Wei Ying staring at the photograph in her lap. She looked so red Lan Zhan wondered if she had a fever.
“Wei Ying?” She questioned.
“Yes!?” Wei Ying bolted to her feet, the photo clasped to her chest.
“Are you okay?” Lan Zhan eyed the woman.
“I’m fine!” Wei Ying stammered. “Nothing wrong, fit as a fiddle!” She squeaked. “Very tired, just going to go straight to bed. Do I need to see you out?”
“I can find my own way.” A smile played on Lan Zhan’s lips.
“Great! I’ll kiss you later- I mean see you later!” Wei Ying stammered as she corralled Lan Zhan to the door.
Lan Zhan caught herself in it, looking back at Wei Ying. The other woman’s eyes were anywhere but her. Well, anywhere but her face.
“You know,” She murmured. “I owe you a favor now,” She reminded Wei Ying. “You could call it in, even right now.”
“Right, a favor.” Wei Ying nodded furiously. “I’ll totally call that in, once I’ve studied up.”
“Studied?” Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed.
“Did I say studied?” Wei Ying laughed nervously, pushing Lan Zhan out the room. “I meant, um, shuìjiào ! I’m very tired.” She gave a horrendous fake yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She slammed the door. “Goodnight!” She called through it.
And just like that, the bird in Lan Zhan’s heart took flight.