Chapter 12: Page One

Auntie Hu let them in by the kitchen door and looked at their torn knees and their dust.

Without being asked, she filled a tin bath with water from the stove.

"Wash," she said. "Then sleep. Both of you. The book's safe."

She went to bed without another word.

Jinyu carried the bath upstairs herself, one pail at a time.

By the time the water was warm, the lamp in her room was low.

Qiao stood at the window with her glasses off, looking out at the roofs.

"It's ready," Jinyu said.

Qiao turned.

"Will you wash my back?"

It was asked so plainly, so unlike her, that Jinyu's throat tightened.

"Yes."

She knelt behind the tin bath with a cloth in her hand while Qiao lowered herself into the water.

The lamplight shone on her wet shoulders and the long line of her spine.

Jinyu drew the cloth slowly down it, vertebra by vertebra, and heard Qiao's breath unspool.

"You're shaking," Qiao murmured.

"I'm not."

"A little."

"Yes."

Qiao turned in the water and caught Jinyu's wrist.

She drew it, cloth and all, over her own heart, and held it there.

"I don't want to wait until the end of the round," she said.

"I don't want to wait for a clean book and a clear name."

"I want to be your Qiao tonight, with all the mess still on me."

Jinyu leaned in and kissed her.

Water ran down her sleeves and soaked her gown through, and she did not care.

Qiao undid it for her, button by wet button, with slow and clever fingers.

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