“You can’t be serious,” the university chancellor said, sitting behind his huge mahogany desk in the university’s main building. The chancellor was actually a foreigner, a particular friend of the late Prince Gong, who had founded the university. He was an older Englishman who had taught at Oxford before moving to Peking and had thick glasses and thinning white hair.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Zhihao asked.
“Because the university doesn’t admit women,” the chancellor said, slamming down the application Zhihao had written out in Jiayi’s name.
“But it does,” Zhihao said. “There are women in the literature program and nursing.”
“But not in history,” the chancellor said.
“Half of the people who have ever lived were women,” Zhihao said. “We need women in the department if we are ever to understand the human experience as a whole.”
“History is more than having babies, sewing, and gossip,” the chancellor said. “Politics, religion, philosophy, all these things are part of the study of history. Things that women have no knowledge of or experience with.”
“Except for Ban Zhao, who was a politician, religious leader, and a philosopher,” Zhihao said. “And Victoria Woodhull. And Margery Kempe. And—”
“It is university policy not to admit women to study history,” the chancellor interrupted as he slid Jiayi’s application across the desk to Zhihao.
“You didn’t even read it,” Zhihao said. “She’s an advisor to the empress herself. Think of the funding we could get if the university were to rise in her esteem.”
“The empress,” the chancellor scoffed, “is not someone we want to be associated with in the coming years, believe me, son.”
“What are you talking about?” Zhihao asked.
“You’re a smart lad,” the chancellor said. “You know that anti-Qing sentiment grows every day.”
Zhihao pressed his lips together and said nothing. Of course he knew. Everyone knew. But most people were smart enough to not talk about such things openly.
“In any case,” the chancellor said, “if this is the young woman you have been working with, we are grateful for her service. But she is simply not University of Peking material.”
“Then maybe I am not either,” Zhihao grumbled as he took Jiayi’s application and stuffed it into his satchel.
“Careful,” the chancellor said, glaring at him, “if you want a job to come to tomorrow.”
Zhihao bit his tongue to keep from replying as he walked out of the chancellor’s office. He stepped out into the crisp fall day and tightened his scarf around his neck. The sky was a bright, clear blue, but he felt shrouded in gloom as another one of his plans to help Jiayi came to nothing. He had hoped that if the university agreed to admit Jiayi as a student—the first women to study in the history department—the empress would not be able to refuse such an honor. But as usual, he was unable to find anyone to cooperate with his scheme.
It had been days since he had heard anything from Jiayi or Prince Kang. The prince had told him not to worry, but that seemed to only cause him to worry even more furiously. He needed to speak to Jiayi, see her for himself to know that she was all right.
He had not seen or spoken to her since her terrifying vision of being put to death in the body of a maid after she touched the silver bracelet they had found at a market. Der Ling then took the bracelet. After that, the empress had more or less banished him from the Forbidden City. Zhihao’s mother had finished crafting her letter of proposal for Zhihao to marry Jiayi. And while he had forbidden his mother from sending it until he was back in the empress’s good graces, he had a feeling she would not wait long.
He had barely been able to concentrate when he ate dinner with Rebecca and her husband, Henry, the night before. Rebecca had been so chatty. So happy. It was as though they hadn’t once been in love, suffered a terrible loss, and then left each other on bad terms for five years. He had tried to play along, smiling and talking about the exciting advances he had been making in archeology in China, but it had been forced. A constant struggle. When he wasn’t worrying about Jiayi, he was wishing he could have just one moment alone with Rebecca for them to speak frankly. Even though she was married, and she and her husband were affectionate and had a plausible reason for being in China, there seemed to be something else Rebecca wasn’t telling him. Something simmering just below the surface. Something behind her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking at her.
Of course, the fact that she was traveling with Marcus was most likely the source of that. Zhihao hated Marcus and would never trust him. He was a slave trader. He had tried to kidnap Jiayi! The man was dangerous. How could Rebecca throw her lot in with him?
He was so lost in his thoughts, he nearly passed by the library when he reached it. He only stopped when he heard Jiayi call his name. He thought he had imagined it. But when he looked up, he saw her coming out of the library, running down the stairs toward him.
He dropped his satchel and pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly, he never wanted to let her go. He completely ignored how inappropriate the action was—or how public they were. She was alive, and she was here. Her body was tense in his arms at first, but then she relaxed and dared to hug him back.
“I was so worried about you,” he said. “The empress wouldn’t let me see you, and I’ve heard nothing from Kang.”
“I know,” she said, pulling away, and he reluctantly let her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t contact you. The empress has been acting very strangely.”
“In what way?” Zhihao asked.
Jiayi rubbed her hands together and blew on them. He then noticed she wasn’t quite dressed for the cooler weather. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around her neck.
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks pink, but whether from the cold or embarrassment, he couldn’t be sure.
“Come on,” he said, picking up the satchel he had dropped and taking her hand in his. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Why?” she asked.
So many reasons, he thought, but he settled on, “There is someone I want you to meet.”
Zhihao hailed a rickshaw and helped her climb up into it. “The Foreign Legation,” he said.
“You want me to meet someone at the legation?” Jiayi asked.
“Have you been there before?” he asked, and he couldn’t help but notice that she hesitated before answering.
“Once,” she finally said. “In another life.”
He simply nodded and let the matter drop. He assumed it was in one of her visions.
The rickshaw puller ran through the busy streets, dodging merchants, donkey carts, and other rickshaws, the cold wind stinging Zhihao’s cheeks in the open-air contraption. Jiayi pulled Zhihao’s scarf tighter around her face to block the breeze, and Zhihao wrapped his arm around her shoulders. At least the ride would not take very long. The library was north of the Forbidden City, while the Foreign Legation was to the south.
“So, who are we going to meet?” Jiayi asked.
“I can’t decide if I should tell you or if it should be a surprise,” Zhihao said with a wry smile.
“If you aren’t sure, I think the safest bet would be to tell me,” Jiayi said.
He sighed. “As much as I would love to see the reaction on your face when you meet, I suppose you are right. You’ll never believe it, but Rebecca is here.”
Jiayi paused for a moment, her mouth agape. “Rebecca. You mean…Rebecca?”
“Yes,” he said, and he couldn’t stop smiling. “Rebecca.”
Jiayi went quiet for a moment, most likely to search her own feelings about this revelation. “And you are happy about her being here?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. “It was quite a shock, though. I fell over when I saw her.”
“You fainted?” Jiayi teased.
“No!” he insisted. “I just…fell down. Can we talk about how you are feeling about this?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never met someone I’ve been in a vision. Did she…say anything about me?”
“Only that she wants to meet you,” he said. “Because she knows you are special to me.”
“Really?” Jiayi asked. “You mentioned me?”
“You are the only thing I ever talk about,” Zhihao said as the rickshaw pulled to a stop in front of the main legation gate. He jumped down and then helped Jiayi out before he paid the rickshaw puller. Jiayi stood at the gate, staring inside.
“Are you sure they will let us in?” Jiayi asked, and her tone suggested that at least part of her hoped they wouldn’t be admitted.
“I was here yesterday,” Zhihao said. “We had dinner in one of the restaurants. It shouldn’t be a problem. Why? Are you having second thoughts.”
“I’m having far more than two,” she said, and she reached up and patted her hair to make sure it was still in place after the windy ride in the cart.
“You look beautiful,” Zhihao said to reassure her.
Jiayi shook her head. “But Rebecca is so…so much more. I could never compare—”
“Stop that,” Zhihao said. “Of course you are nothing like Rebecca. You are Chinese, grew up poor, live in the most magnificent palace in the world, and have the amazing ability to travel through time. If anything, she can never compare to you.”
Jiayi tried to smile, but her lips quavered and she looked down. “Do…do you still have feelings for her?” she finally mumbled.
“I…am working through that,” he admitted, and she looked up with watery eyes. “I never thought I would ever see her again. And you know that we left on…uncertain terms. So, while I am struggling, I can tell you truly that I do not love her.”
“Really?” Jiayi asked, her face brightening just a bit.
“Besides,” Zhihao said, “she’s here with her husband.”
“Oh!” Jiayi said, then she slapped Zhihao’s arm playfully. “You could have led with that!”
He laughed and led her to the gate. “Come on.” He presented the hotel card to the guard, but the guard remembered him from the day before and let Zhihao and Jiayi enter without any fuss.
As they stepped inside the legation, Zhihao thought he heard Jiayi take in a shuddering breath. He looked over and saw her holding her scarf tightly to her neck, surveying the scene.
“Are you sure you are all right?” Zhihao asked.
“Yes,” Jiayi said. “It’s just been a long time.”
He nodded and offered her his arm in the proper English style for escorting a lady. She looked at him curiously.
“When in England…even though we are actually in the middle of Peking,” he said. Normally, they would not be allowed to touch each other in public, even if they were married. It was customary for women to follow behind their masters a few paces, if the woman was allowed to leave her house at all.
Jiayi’s eyes lifted to the high red wall of the Forbidden City that towered over the north of the legation. Then she smiled at him and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they walked toward Rebecca and Henry’s hotel.
The legation was a world apart. All foreigners living in Peking were required by law to live in the legation. Americans, Brits, Germans, Japanese, people of almost all nationalities could be found living in the legation, along with hundreds of Chinese servants. Wherever the foreigners came from, they brought their own traditions with them. The legation was unofficially divided into various ethnic quarters, and a person could tell which quarter they were in as the designs of the buildings often changed to reflect the styles of the occupant’s homeland. Each quarter also housed restaurants, schools, shops, and more. The British quarter of the legation was near to the front, so they didn’t have to walk far before reaching the hotel.
They went into the lobby, a bellhop eagerly taking their warm things and stowing them away out of sight. Zhihao went to the front desk and asked that a message be sent to Rebecca and Henry, asking them to join him in the hotel restaurant for lunch. He then escorted Jiayi to the dining room to wait.
“Have you ever been to a restaurant before?” he asked as he pulled the chair out for her.
“A few times,” she said as she sat and unfolded her napkin, laying it across her lap.
“In your dreams?” he asked, sitting across from her. She smiled, and he chuckled. There was so much about her he didn’t know.
While they waited, Zhihao ordered a light wine and Jiayi fidgeted with her napkin as she looked around the room. She was the only Chinese woman present who was dressed in the Chinese style.
“I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable,” he said. “I should have given you more time to prepare.”
“I don’t think there is any way I could have ever prepared for this,” Jiayi said. “Meeting Rebecca…” She hesitated and shook her head. “Does she know about…what I can do?”
“No,” he said. “I just told her that you have helped me find several items and that you are a lady for the empress.”
She nodded. “Probably the safest explanation. But I can’t help but wonder—”
“Theodore!” Henry’s voice interrupted. Zhihao jumped to his feet, and Jiayi followed suit. Zhihao and Henry shook hands, then Henry stood aside and presented Rebecca. Zhihao took Rebecca’s hand in his and she leaned in for a peck on the cheek. He knew it was merely a friendly gesture, but now that Jiayi was here, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.
“Henry, Rebecca,” Zhihao said, motioning across the table. “May I present Lady Jiayi.”
Jiayi curtseyed and Rebecca took both of her hands, shaking them vigorously.
“Jiayi,” she said, “how wonderful to finally meet you. But Theodore speaks of you so often, I…feel as though we have met before.” She stared at Jiayi, her handshake slowing, and Zhihao couldn’t help but wonder if she saw herself in Jiayi’s eyes.
“You…speak Chinese?” Jiayi said, and Rebecca laughed, finally pulling her hands away.
“Of course, dear,” Rebecca said. “Oh, but you are a treasure, aren’t you? So young! So tiny! I am sure we shall be the best of friends.” She took a seat between Jiayi and Zhihao, and Henry sat across from her.
“Henry is an emissary for Her Majesty,” Zhihao explained to Jiayi as they all sat and situated themselves. “But he and Rebecca live in London.”
“How wonderful,” Jiayi said. “I would love to live in England. But Zhi—Theodore says I can’t go.”
“You wish to leave China?” Rebecca asked. A waiter arrived at that moment and poured them each a glass of white wine and gave them the menus.
“Thanks to my work with Theodore, I have traveled more of China than I ever thought possible,” Jiayi said. “I would love to see more of the world.”
“Travel is wonderful,” Rebecca said. “We went to America before coming here. All the way to California! There is a vibrant Chinese community in San Francisco. But if you left, what of your duties to the empress? It must be such an honor to serve her.”
“Of course,” Jiayi said. “But I am one of many. I am sure I would hardly be missed.”
Zhihao was impressed with how Jiayi was able to hold her own in the conversation. Henry kept trying to engage him in a conversation of their own, but he didn’t want to miss whatever Jiayi and Rebecca were talking about.
Rebecca peppered Jiayi with endless questions, and Jiayi answered each one, but she kept her replies simple, never actually revealing much about herself.
“Where are you from?” Rebecca asked Jiayi.
“I was born here in Peking,” Jiayi said.
“And how did you end up serving the empress?”
“I went into service when I was eight.”
Rebecca gasped. “So young! Is that normal?”
“Not particularly,” Jiayi said.
“You cannot be much more than fifteen now!” Rebecca said with a laugh.
“I am nearly twenty,” Jiayi said, not seeing the humor in Rebecca’s words, nor did Zhihao. Rebecca finally paused in her interrogation, and Zhihao took the opportunity to step in, clearing his throat.
“We should order if we hope to eat before I have to return Jiayi to the Forbidden City,” he said.
“Whatever you want is fine,” Rebecca said, hardly paying attention to him. “So, Jiayi, what does the empress think of you possibly marrying Theodore? Is she as excited as I was to hear the news?”
Jiayi smiled, but it did not reach her eyes, which she darted to Zhihao. For the first time, Jiayi seemed flustered. “Marriage…”
“You know things are done differently here,” Zhihao broke in. “That is for my mother and the empress to discuss.”
“What about your mother, Jiayi?” Rebecca asked.
“She’s…not in my life,” Jiayi said.
“Oh, did she pass away? I’m so sorry.”
“I…don’t know,” Jiayi said, and Zhihao noticed her hands were starting to shake. He took the menu from her and offered to order on her behalf. She thanked him with a nod as she folded her hands tightly in her lap.
“Oh? I thought all Chinese families were quite close,” Rebecca said as the waiter brought them some soup bowls and refilled their glasses.
At that, Jiayi did not respond. She straightened her napkin and arranged her soup bowl in front of her, taking a small sip before turning to Henry.
“Are you from Peking?” she asked him.
“No,” he said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he turned to his own food. “Shanghai. After I meet with the empress, we shall go there so I can see my family and introduce my wife.”
“Do they know she is a foreigner?” Jiayi asked.
Henry cleared his throat. “They don’t.”
“What?” Rebecca asked. “They…they don’t know I’m British?”
Zhihao suddenly lost his appetite at the turn in the conversation. Knowing how his own mother felt about the possibility of a foreign daughter-in-law, he couldn’t imagine just showing up with one without any warning. The family would probably disown them both on the spot.
“You speak Chinese, darling,” Henry said, trying to lessen the impact of the news. “They will love you.”
“I can’t believe this,” Rebecca said. The waiter brought the rest of their food dishes, but it seemed no one had much appetite.
Zhihao raised his eyes to Jiayi across the table. She was doing her best to remain calm, but she quickly hid her face behind a bite of her sandwich and a sip of wine.
The rest of the meal continued in silence, though no one ate much. Finally, Zhihao wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his chair back.
“Well, Jiayi and I must be going. We both have duties to attend to.”
Rebecca jumped up quickly. “Actually, could you come up to my—our room for a moment?”
Zhihao hesitated and he looked to Henry and Jiayi. “Umm…why?”
“I found an item at a street market I need your opinion on,” she said. “It won’t take but a moment.”
“Go ahead,” Henry said. “She’s been talking about it non-stop. I’ll just have another glass of wine with Lady Jiayi.”
Zhihao nodded as Rebecca led him away. He wasn’t sure why he felt uncomfortable with the idea of going to her room, other than the fact that he hadn’t been alone with her since he left England all those years ago. But they were friends now, and she had an artifact to show him. There was no reason for him to feel anxious.
But as soon as they entered the room and she closed the door behind them, he realized he had been right to worry.
Rebecca pushed him against a wall, pressing her lips, her whole body against him. He placed his hands on her shoulders to push her away, but for a moment, it was five years ago. She tasted, felt, smelled the same way she had back then. Back when he had loved her. Back before—
“Jiayi,” he said as he pushed Rebecca away.
“That child can hardly compare to me, can she?” Rebecca sneered. “Can you honestly say you could ever love her the way you did me?”
“I—It’s not—” He ran his hands over his face. What could Rebecca ever truly understand about a Chinese marriage? “What about Henry?”
She groaned. “I can’t stand him! He’s so dull. And fat. Can you believe he didn’t tell his family about me?”
Zhihao pushed past her and went to the washroom. He saw smears from her red lipstick on his mouth and cheek. He grabbed a cloth and dipped it in some water to wash the stains away.
“That’s your problem,” Zhihao said to her reflection in the mirror as she stood behind him in the doorway, her arms crossed.
“I only married him so I could come to China,” Rebecca said. “So I could find you. Without my brother, there was no other family member who would escort me to Asia.”
“Why?” Zhihao asked, and then he realized the answer before she even spoke. He turned to face her.
“I still love you,” she said. “I never stopped loving you. You were the only man for me. And I think it is pretty clear that I am the only woman for you.”
“Jiayi—” he started to say.
“Is not your wife,” Rebecca interrupted. “She’s some rich palace lady your family wants you to marry. But if you had ever truly moved on from me, you would have married by now.”
“Rich palace lady…” Zhihao scoffed as he shook his head, folding the cloth and putting it on a rack. “You don’t know her at all.”
“I don’t need to,” Rebecca said. “Forget her. Forget Henry. Come away to America with me. I can get you a job at the Met in New York.”
“What?” he asked.
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “I’ve told them all about you. They heard about the emperor’s seal and the work you are doing for the empress. The Met wants you. That’s why I’m really here. I’m supposed to offer you a job.”
“That’s…incredible,” he said. “Are you sure?”
Rebecca smiled and walked back into the main bedroom, pulling an envelope from one of her bags. “This is for you.”
Zhihao opened it and found a letter from the Met’s president asking Zhihao to come to New York to discuss employment. There was even a letter for the American embassy to facilitate a visa. He sat on the bed, his head swimming.
Rebecca sat next to him. “Don’t you see?” she said. “We can finally be together.”
Isn’t that how it was supposed to be? he thought. He and Rebecca, working and living together. Happy and in love. For so many years, it was a vision he clung too. What he saw every time he closed his eyes. What he dreamed of. But now, when he closed his eyes or thought about his future, only Jiayi was there. He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t live without her.
“No,” he said, handing her the envelope and letters as he stood and went to the door. “I have to go.”
“What?” Rebecca asked, chasing after him and grabbing his hand. He pulled away from her as though her touch burned. “I…I’ve risked everything for you. My family. My career. I came all this way. Do you know how hard it was to convince the Met board to hire you?”
“I didn’t ask you to do any of that,” Zhihao said.
“But you did!” Rebecca said. “You said you loved me. That you would do anything for us to be together.”
“And then I left,” he said. “I never wrote. I thought…I thought you would move on.”
“And I thought that our promises to each other meant something,” she said. “I never stopped fighting for us. When did you?”
“The day I landed in Peking,” he said, and he could see the pain clear on her face as if he had stabbed her in the chest. “I’m sorry. I should have ended things properly. I should have written. But I thought that five years and half a world would be enough separation between us that we would both move on.”
“But it’s not too late,” Rebecca said. “I still love you. And I know that you still love me.” She put the letters back into the envelopes and stuffed them into his pocket. “Get the visa. Forget the girl. We can go to America and never look back.”
He reached into his pocket to take out the papers, but she squeezed his wrist.
“Keep them,” she said. “Think about it.”
He had already made his decision, but she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He opened the door and fled out into the hallway.