Read Online Capturing the Silken Thief by Jeannie Lin - Free Book Online

She was hoarding coins again, saving toward paying back her ever-present, ever-growing debt.
    The floating world shifted around her as it did every year. She passed by Cheng’s apartment and learned that he had moved out. A new student would eventually rent out that room. The cycle would begin again.
    She didn’t seek him out before he left. There was no point in doing so. Their time together was precious now, locked in her memory.
    In a week’s time, the celebrations had died down and the ward resumed a more restrained level of revelry. The houses were only half full by evening time. The atmosphere became languid; a slow smoulder in comparison to the crackling fire just a week earlier.
    One evening, she received an invitation to play at the Lotus Pavilion.
    “The Lotus?” She had to ask the troupe leader twice.
    He nodded and waved her away as if she were a gnat. The invitation was for her alone. She dressed in her most elegant robe; trying not to think of how it was the same one she’d worn her night with Cheng. The same robe he’d slipped off of her.
    With her pipa in hand, she headed toward the pagoda. It stood like a beacon with its hanging lanterns and layered towers. She knew several songs that would allow her to captivate a room all by herself. She rehearsed in her head as she entered the pavilion through the side doors.
    The reception hall was blinding in its opulence. The pink halo of orb lanterns, jade sculptures, wood carvings that spanned four walls. She wandered for a few steps, lost. Fortunately, the hostess intercepted her and directed her to a banquet room at the back of the pavilion.
    The entrance was through an interior corridor. She pushed open the door tentatively. The vast banquet hall was empty except for the one man seated at the head of the table. He stood and the air rushed from her.
    Everything about Cheng seemed different now. His grey scholar’s robe was replaced with a dark blue brocade. His hair was combed and tied back neatly. He even appeared taller. Or maybe it was that her knees wanted to collapse as he came near. Her heart had stopped beating, she was sure of it.
    “Your name isn’t Rose,” he accused lightly.
    She thought of a hundred different retorts she could use, but in the end her elation at seeing him again overwhelmed her. “I started to like how you called me that.”
    His expression remained inscrutable as he took her in. He had a new detached confidence about him and she yearned for the Cheng she’d known. She no longer knew how to be with him.
    “Yang Jia-jing.” He pronounced her name slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “It took me a long time to find you.”
    He’d been searching for her. She warmed at the thought.
    Sentiment again. She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t careful. She composed herself. “I saw your name displayed at the examination hall. I’m very happy for you.”
    And she was; both happy and sad.
    Cheng’s expression softened. “I thought I’d see you after the exams. You knew where to find me.”
    She shook her head, unable to answer. All she’d ever brought him was misfortune. He came forward until he stood right before her. She could already see him as an appointed official. He had the stature and bearing for it. She held on to the pipa as a last barrier between them.
    He reached into his robe and pulled out an envelope. “I have something for you.”
    She hesitated, searching his face. Finally she set her instrument aside and took the letter.
    “That poem I promised you,” he said as she opened it.
    “This is no poem,” she protested as she unfolded the paper inside to reveal a column of figures. Then she read through the entire letter. She looked up at Cheng to see the corners of his mouth twitching.
    She bent her head to inspect the document one more time. “I was wrong,” she said, her throat threatening to close up. “It’s a beautiful poem.”
    Cheng had paid off the troupe master. All her debts were