The Empress Dowager's Pulse Raced for the Palace Physician novel · Chapter 21 of 24

Chapter 21: What She Asked For

The clinic in the south city had a back room with one bed and a herb counter.

Its window looked onto the courtyard where the old women sat on Tuesdays.

It was not Tuesday.

The courtyard was empty, the shutters were closed, and the only light came from a paper lantern on the counter.

Murong Yue stood in the middle of the floor in a plain brown cotton robe.

Her hair hung in a single braid, and she wore no gold anywhere.

She looked like a tall, pale farm wife.

She looked more beautiful than she had in the crown.

"This is where you live," she said.

"This is where I work. I live upstairs. There's a cat."

"I should like to meet the cat."

"After."

Qinglan shut the door and slid the bolt, and for a moment they only looked at each other across the little room.

"You said you wanted me to ask," Qinglan said.

"Yes."

"I'm not good at it."

"I have noticed. You order, and I obey, and it is the finest thing in my life."

"But I would like to hear you want something."

Qinglan stood very still.

It was a strange thing to be afraid of, after all they had done.

She walked to the bed and sat on the edge, and her hands were trembling on her knees.

"I want you to take charge of me," she said, rough. "Tonight."

"I want you to tell me what to do, and I want to do it, and I don't want to think."

"Is that all?"

"I want you to be gentle for a bit, and then not."

"Oh," said Murong Yue, and smiled, slowly, the way a general smiles at a map.

She crossed the floor.

She stood over Qinglan, so tall in the lantern light, and put one hand under her chin.

"Look at me."

Qinglan looked up.

"Undress."

The quiet command went through her.

She stood and unwound the green sash.

The grey-green robe slipped off her shoulders, then the undershirt, then her trousers, each piece dropping to the floor.

Yue watched every one, with her head tilted.

When Qinglan stood naked, sturdy and freckled and brown, the Dowager walked once around her.

"You are beautiful," she said, "and you do not know it."

"I know I'm useful."

"That is not the same."

She lifted Qinglan's chin and kissed her.

It was a lazy kiss, long and slow, with her tongue sliding between Qinglan's lips.

Her free hand traced the curve of a hip.

Qinglan's knees went soft.

"Lie down on your back," Yue said. "Hands above your head."

Qinglan lay down on the narrow bed and put her hands on the pillow.

Yue stood at the foot, looking.

"You have a scar here," she said, touching the inside of Qinglan's thigh with one fingertip.

"A bad dog. I was nine."

"I like it."

She bent and kissed the scar.

Her mouth moved up the thigh, slowly, and Qinglan's breath came in short gasps.

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