Free Song of the Silk Road by Mingmei Yip Page A

hardly know each other.”
    “Does it really matter? Either you love or you don’t, there’s no but in a relationship.”
    “Then what do you want?” I asked, feeling hot, uneasy, impatient.
    “Let me love you by taking care of you.”
    “You never asked if I’m also in love with you.”
    “Are you?”
    His eyes were so tender that I felt my bones dissolving. Was I in love with him? It was a question I did not want to ask myself. But I was moved by this young man’s stubborn efforts to take care of me, to . . . love me. And I had to admit I did like to look at his delicate face and his lean body. Any girl would be ecstatic to have his company just for the sake of vanity. Then why would he choose me, years older? Was he starving for sisterly—or motherly—affection?
    I didn’t answer his question, but said, “I already have a boyfriend.”
    He looked stunned for a few seconds, then, “So . . . are you going to marry him, this boyfriend of yours?”
    I didn’t respond.
    A long silence fell between us before he spoke again, this time with urgency. “He’s married with kids, isn’t he?”
    Did this young man possess a third eye, or was “screwed by a married man” written like bright graffiti on my forehead?
    “He said he would,” I muttered, feeling completely drained.
    “Married men always say that to their mistresses so they’ll stay—in bed.”
    Stung by this unwelcome yet veritable remark, my voice shot out high like a jumping frog. “Alex, why don’t you find someone your age and leave me alone?”
    “I’m not interested in girls my age. They’re like dolls, and I’m not a girl.”
    “Do you want me because you miss your mother?”
    “Lily, I don’t care how old you are, only who you are.”
    “You hardly know me.”
    “Then why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”
    I blurted out, “All right. I’m an adventurer and an aspiring novelist writing a coming-of-age family saga based on my own life. My parents are both dead, so I’m all by myself on this planet.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “You satisfied? Now tell me, what do you love in me.” My answer came out cold deliberately to cover the heat spreading inside me.
    “You’re brave, beautiful, talented, and unusual.”
    “How am I unusual?”
    “I’ve never encountered a woman who travels by herself in a third-world country, let alone on the Silk Road, in a deserted village, and insists that she be left alone. I admire your bravery. But it’s also unbelievably stupid.”
    I winced from his bluntness. “Did you just say stupid?”
    “Yes! Haven’t you ever thought that a pretty young woman traveling by herself, in a third-world country, is an invitation for trouble? That’s why I’m here, to look out for you.”
    Before I had a chance to respond, he threw me another question. “Why do you travel alone?”
    I was not going to answer this, so I asked instead, “Alex, what makes you think you can take care of me?”
    “Just trust me, would you?”
    My voice, instead of keeping its cultivated cool, now came out vulnerable like a wounded kitten. “Alex, please, I don’t know. . . .”
    He stood up and moved toward me in quick strides. Then our bodies, arms, and lips entangled. But we didn’t make love. After long, convoluted kisses and caresses, I hardened my heart and asked him to leave.
    “Please, Alex, now leave and leave it at that. And don’t come back to see me. I really don’t need more complications in my life.”
    He stared deeply at me and let out a long sigh before he walked to the door, then closed it behind him, leaving me alone in the cottage.
    My heart sank.
    How did this trip turn out to be so complicated at every step? And I had just barely started to retrace my aunt’s route!
    I was touched and intrigued by Alex’s gentleness and concern. Yet, why did he choose me? Should I be suspicious? But he looked too young and innocent to be contaminated by the dust and poison of this world. Besides, he