An extra chair was brought to the table, and the white-haired man settled himself without ceremony on the seat. The waiter promptly brought a place setting and a cup. "Please add us an extra plate of chicken," MeiLan requested politely.
When the waiter left, the beggar finally pulled back the hood of his raggedy cloak. Although his hair was silvery-white, the face beneath the hood was not old. It was not young either, but rather it had a sort of timelessness, as though frozen right at the peak of his masculine beauty, perfectly balanced between youthful splendor and maturity. MeiLan found herself transfixed, and even Emilian could not look away.
"What are you looking at? Stop staring! What's wrong with you?" the man barked impatiently.
"It's your face!" Emilian blurted out. "You are not old!"
"Pssh, don't be silly, I am older than every man in this place, put together. But you," the man leveled a finger at MeiLan, "You are the one who is old!"
She sat back in surprise. "I beg your pardon!"
"Yes, you even have gray hairs!" the beggar cackled.
MeiLan patted her hair self-consciously, where she did indeed have some white hairs commingling with the black, but in her case, the premature loss of color was due to the stress of illness, not age. She frowned and thought it was strange of the man to take notice of such a detail.
"Hey! My mistress has been kind to you!" Emilian said sternly, "there is no need to be offensive."
"Who is being offensive? You called me old first!" The white-haired man finished his tea in a single gulp. "I am simply stating a fact. If not for those blue eyes…" he squirmed and suddenly seemed confused. "I've been lost for a very long time."
There was something in the sudden change of tone in his voice that made Meilan soften in sympathy. "What is your name?"
"My name? Oh, my name, my name… you can call me Long. Master Long."
"Master? You don't look like you have a title, sir, who is going to call you master?" Emilian crossed his arms over his chest. Something in him felt jealous and competitive. He did not want to be ranked lower than this stranger, especially not in the eyes of MeiLan.
MeiLan caught his eye and gestured toward her head, clearly indicating that she believed Mr. Long might be suffering from mental illness. Before they could continue the discussion of what honorifics to use for the gentleman, the waiter arrived with their dishes of mixed vegetables, spicy fried chicken, and individual bowls of rice. Master Long picked up his chopsticks and clicked them together in anticipation. "Help yourself," MeiLan said graciously, as she picked up her own bowl, and added some vegetables and a piece of chicken to the top. The men also began to serve themselves. Master Long stuffed himself avidly, as one who had been hungry for a long time. Emilian pursed his lips in disapproval and ate slowly, forgetting that not too long ago he was the one eating like a hungry animal at the table.
They talked little as they ate, more concerned with filling their stomachs than making conversation. Master Long ate a tremendous amount of food, and Emilian thought that he was being selfish and greedy. Emilian reached across the table and took the last piece of chicken before Master Long could grab it and put it in MeiLan's bowl. She gave him that small smile and a knowing look.
"There!" Master long patted his belly and grinned widely. "I'm feeling so much better now. Miss, you have proved yourself a generous and gracious woman, and I thank you for the meal!"
"You are most welcome, my friend," she replied gently. "Where will you go now?"
"Go?" he scratched at his silvery hair, and again that absent and confused look crossed his face.
"Where is your home?" MeiLan pressed kindly. Emilian gave her a worried look. She wasn't thinking about inviting another homeless man home with her, was she? Just how many servants could she support, and how would Captain Yongli feel about more strangers being brought into the mansion? He felt that his own position was being threatened.
"Oh well, that's a very complicated question. You see, I don't come from here at all, I'm just a visitor!" He stood and pulled the hood back over his hair. "And I have very important things to do! So, I must hurry now." He reached into his robe and took out an object. "A gift for you, Miss MeiLan, for your hospitality." He reached for her hand and placed the object in her palm, curving her fingers around it.
Strange, Emilian thought, he didn't recall that MeiLan had introduced herself to the man, and yet he called her by name.
"Safe journey!" he gave a little wave and hurried away from the table with a flourish of his dirty robe.
MeiLan watched him go for a moment and shook her head, "What a strange man." She opened her fingers to examine the object he had placed in her palm. It was a small jade pendant, intricately and expertly carved in the shape of a dragon. "Oh my," she gasped turning it over. "This is too valuable! He is pretending to be a beggar while he is carrying around a pendant worth a hundred tael!" Her eyes darted up. "I can't accept it; it would be like taking advantage of his weak mind. Emilian quick, go call him back!"
Emilian stood and hurried out of the restaurant to find Master Long. He ran to the entrance and looked up and down the road in every direction. But the street was empty, save for a boy with a donkey and a cart carrying water cisterns. "Hey, boy," Emilian called, "Did you see a white-haired man pass by?"
The boy looked up at him with a perplexed expression and shook his head. "No one has passed by recently."
Emilian returned to the table; his brow furrowed in confusion. "I didn't find him," he said, sitting back on his chair. "He has just…disappeared."