The Book of Lost Fragrances

Forty-eight

5:55 P.M.

Most of the students and chaperones were unpacking and relaxing after the plane ride. In an hour a bus would arrive to take them to a private opening reception with Chinese and French dignitaries at the Musée de l’Orangerie in the Tuileries gardens.

There was no way that Xie could relax in the small hotel room he shared with Ru Shan, so he suggested to Lan and the professor that they unpack later and instead see something of the city. Walk from the small hotel on the Île Saint-Louis to the museum. Professor Wu, who wanted to get in as much of Paris as he could, was happy to chaperone.

The three of them stood outside the hotel, getting their bearings. Up and down the street were small shops, windows artfully designed to show off their wares.

“It’s all so lovely,” Lan whispered as they walked by a florist’s storefront. A dazzling array of roses, poppies and peonies spilled onto the sidewalk. Reds and oranges and pinks all fighting and complementing each other at the same time. Colors on fire.

Xie was too concerned to truly appreciate all of it. He had to struggle to pay attention to what Lan was saying.

“Everywhere you look, there’s something to see.” She pointed at the window of a candy shop. Yellow cookie and candy boxes were stacked on top of one another, creating an Eiffel Tower.

Xie had been exhausted by the time their plane landed. The stress of getting through security with the contraband phone had worn him out. And it had been wasted anxiety. There hadn’t been any trouble. The cell phone remained safe in his pocket. And now he was safe in France.

Strolling along the quai, Lan stopped to watch a tourist boat cruise by, then led them across a small bridge to Ile de la Cité.

“Look how the river shimmers. How the clouds drift by the sun. Like a Monet,” she said. “Or a Pissarro. Or Sisley.”

Xie saw only the shade under the trees where people whose faces he couldn’t make out looked like they could be lurking.

Paris was a living canvas, and the artist in him wanted to thrill to the sights that filled his eyes. But he was worried about these last two days. About all the things he didn’t know. When was the meeting going to take place? What was he supposed to do?

This wasn’t smart. He knew his emotions were going to drain him, create an aura around him that would attract negativity. For the time being, for the time he was on this walk, he couldn’t think about what lay ahead. He had to be here, in this moment, in Paris.

There was a phrase he’d learned at the monastery when he was a little boy, presented to him like a puzzle along with the lessons in deep meditation:

The no-mind not-thinks no-thoughts about no-things.

He intoned it silently now as they walked toward Notre Dame, and felt his energy returning. The majestic Gothic cathedral was a prayer made out of stone, one that demanded attention. Offering succor and refuge. Hundreds of people milled about it. Groups of kids, smoking and skateboarding and texting and being free.

As the three of them passed by, the church’s bells began to ring out. Deep, booming, tremendous, and splendid; the sound reverberating inside of Xie’s body.

Xie stopped walking. Slowly he turned. Took in the ancient rooftops and windows, bridges, the pulsing river.

“Professor,” Xie said.

The venerable calligrapher turned to him.

“Thank you for all of this.”

“You earned all of this.” He bowed his head slightly, and Xie saw there was a smile playing around his mouth.

Wu would be in danger if Xie failed. This amazing artist who had taken the teenage boy under his tutelage was risking his life to help him.

Lan, who’d noticed the exchange, shyly took Xie’s hand for a moment. With her quiet eyes, she too smiled.

“Can you imagine what it would be like to be an artist and live here?” she asked.

Xie shook his head.

“What it would be like not to go back? To run away. Now. This minute. Just take off. Stay in France. Paint?” She was breathless with the idea.

“Dangerous thoughts, my dear,” Wu said.

Before Xie had a chance to concur, something caught his eye.

Not far from them, standing to the right of a group of kids, Xie saw Ru Shan.

There was only one reason he’d be there, hovering in the background.

He was following them.