She skimmed her hands down the coat, the embroidered roundels faintly rough against her palms. Peonies for spring, bats for good fortune. Feeling deliriously feminine, she slowly pirouetted, the heavy silk swinging away from her body. Would Maxwell find her pleasing if he could see her now?

Her glance touched the mirror on the opposite wall, and her expression crumpled. East or West, she was ugly. Why did she torment herself by dressing up and pretending to be what she could never be? As a girl in Macao, she'd admired the beautiful Fan-qui ladies with their varied hair colors and features. With her hulking body and huge servant-girl feet she would be less conspicuous among them than with the delicate Cantonese ladies, but never would she be considered pretty.

A rap sounded on the door. "Jin Kang?"

It was Ling-Ling. "Lovely Bell" was Chenqua's Fourth Lady, the youngest, prettiest, and liveliest of his wives, and Troth's closest friend in the household. Not wanting to be caught in her forbidden garments, she called out, "A moment, Ling-Ling."

Swiftly she removed her finery and folded it back into the chest, then pulled on her trousers and tunic. There wasn't time to replait her hair, but as Ling-Ling called impatiently Troth yanked out the pins and shook it loose over her shoulders. Only then did she open the door.

Ling-Ling entered, exquisitely made up and swaying gracefully on her tiny bound feet. Her "golden lilies" were only three inches long, a fact of great pride to her. She looked up at Troth, surprised. "What a lot of hair you have, and with that odd yellow color. Not properly black. Your Fan-qui blood, of course."

Troth suppressed a sigh. Her friend was nothing if not forthright. Dressed in a queue, Troth's hair looked decently dark, but loose it showed rusty highlights. "We can't all be as fortunate as you, Ling-Ling."