The Hidden Moon

by Jeannie Lin

  “Your brother mentioned that the magistrate’s office hadn’t been informed.”

  “Informed of what?”

  Gao shrugged.

  She frowned at him. “My brother seems to have confided in you.”

  “He hasn’t told me anything,” Gao denied.

  She let out a breath. “Magistrate Li knows my brother. He’ll know what to do.”

  The last thing Gao wanted to do was go before the magistrate, even if he wasn’t in chains when it happened. But Wei-wei had no such reservations, and she was looking at him expectantly with pupils as deep and dark as wells. Fit for him to drown in. No wonder the Bais could get away with anything.

  “Let’s go then,” he relented. “Together.”

  He waved down a sedan. If Wei-wei had any objections about being packed into the seat close beside him, she didn’t voice them. She even took the smelly gray mule that pulled the transport in stride.

  The magistrate’s office was located several wards away. The morning traffic had thinned away as they neared mid-day. Wei-wei opened a bamboo parasol and held it overhead to block the sun. For the moment, they were sheltered together, sectioned off from the city despite the crowded streets. The silk of her sleeve brushed against him, and she smelled impossibly like flowers.

  “You’re very quiet,” she said after a while.

  This was the longest period of time they’d ever spent together. That made it a good day, all death and conspiracy aside.

  “I was thinking what a mismatched pair we make.” He turned his head to see her reaction.

  Wei-wei was watching him intently. She didn’t avert her eyes or shy away.

  “Not so mismatched,” she protested.

  “A proper lady like you riding alongside a vagabond like me?”

  Wei-wei fidgeted. “You’re not—I mean. You’re a…”

  He grinned, daring her to answer. “You’re not afraid of being seen with me?”

  “There are so many people on this road. No one would even recognize their own mother in this crowd,” she argued.

  Then, as if to prove a point, Wei-wei lowered her parasol and placed it between them on the seat. Her movements were less than confident as she looked out to the road, trying hard to look comfortable in her own skin.

  “Scandal,” he drawled, under his breath.

  She slanted a cross look at him.

  “What were you doing at the Imperial City alone and on foot anyway?” he asked. “As rich as you are?”

  “Huang’s wife just gave birth and the entire household is busy fussing over the baby,” she explained. “Mother took the carriage to go to temple and the horse was hitched up to run to the market. With Father coming home, the family is planning a banquet at the end of the week. There’s too much going on for anyone to notice where I was.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “It is. In our house, there’s Huang, the favored son. Then there’s Chang-min, my younger brother. One can hardly see me between them.”

  He could see her. Wei-wei was vibrant, and quick-thinking and she demanded attention with her very presence. The first time they’d met, she was standing out in the street, wearing one of her brother’s ridiculous outfits. Completely out of place, yet completely unbothered by it.

  “I have something to ask you,” Wei-wei said after a pause.

  He waited.

  “My brother says that the two of you aren’t friends, but you’re always helping us. Why is that?”

  Wei-wei watched him expectantly with those wide and probing eyes, as black and deep as the still waters of a lotus pond.

  “Because you two always need it,” he replied crookedly.

  “Come now,” she scolded, annoyed. “You’ve helped us when there’s no benefit to you. Like this matter now. You could have left it alone, but you came to find Huang.”

  “Who’s to say there’s no benefit for me.” Gao ran a hand over the front of his tunic and looked out to the road.

  What could he say? How else would he have an excuse to see her?

  He didn’t have any designs on Lady Bai Wei-ling. For a common street hood to have any intention toward someone like Wei-wei was madness. He was more like a child vying for a sweet, imagining the phantom taste of sugar on his tongue. Unable to give up the quest because nothing else around was nearly so good.

  He’d held Wei-wei in his arms once, a sensation he still remembered in his bones. The moment had been brief and brotherly. It was the first time she had encountered death and it had shaken her. At the time, he thought it was good she’d finally learned a lesson about the dangers of the capital. Wei-wei was too fearless, too eager to rush into danger.

  Gao had thought she would stay safe in her gilded mansion surrounded by servants, where she belonged, and he would never see her again. He’d held her closer than he should have because of that. In farewell.

  But it wasn’t the last time.

  “We’re here,” Wei-wei announced.

  The magistrate’s yamen loomed ahead. The administrative compound was not nearly as the Imperial City, but it was still a place Gao preferred not to be known. The mule driver brought the sedan to a stop and Gao paid him.

  “You don’t have to come inside,” Wei-wei suggested, sensing his reluctance as he looked to the gate.

  “We’ll do this together,” he reminded her

  The magistrate would have questions about where the jade seal had come from. If Wei-wei couldn’t answer, the finger would point back to him anyway. He also had a responsibility to shield poor Fu Lin from the magistrate as well. Gao had dragged the boy into this mess now, all for the paltry price of two zhus.

  In front of the gate was a brass gong mounted upon a stand. There was an old tradition that stated that anyone, rich or poor, could ring the gong to seek an audience with the magistrate. There was no reason to ring it that day. The gates were open for their arrival.

  Inside, Gao instinctively fell back two steps behind Wei-wei, both in a show of deference as well as to guard her back. There was a blur of activity in the offices. Armed constables and other functionaries hurried to and fro. A sense of urgency fueled the activity.

  Wei-wei gave her name to the clerk in front, and was invited into the inner chambers with little delay. He was always surprised at the places she was able to go on sheer boldness alone. Gao followed behind her, curious to see where this would lead.

  To Gao’s surprise, they were taken directly to a private office. The magistrate was at his desk. His rank was denoted by a forest green robe and fitted silk cap with a pair of cloth flaps that hung to his shoulders. It was said on the streets that Li Chen was young for such a high post. Gao would have placed Li as near the same age as him at twenty-eight — though Li did have the eternally youthful and softened look of the well-fed. He exerted an air of smooth polish and cultivation.

  Magistrate Li stood from his desk to greet them, or specifically, to greet Wei-wei.

  “Lady Bai,” he said with surprise. “What brings you here?”

  He spared Gao a questioning glance, before turning his full attention back to Wei-wei.

  “We have a very important matter to bring before you,” she began, her fingers twisting nervously. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Gao saw the magistrate’s gaze flicker to Wei-wei’s hands, taking note of her nervous gesture, before focusing back to her face. “Go on.”

  “My brother hasn’t come home for two days.”

  “He must be busy in the records office,” Li assured.

  “No, there’s something else.” Wei-wei glanced toward Gao. “Magistrate Li may wish to close his door.”

  Gao waited until the door was closed before approaching the desk. He set the jade seal on top of it.

  “It looks like an imperial seal,” Wei-wei said in a whisper.

  The magistrate stared at the cut stone in disbelief. Just as Wei-wei had done, he first inspected the carved insignia, then pressed it into a dish of red in
k and stamped it onto a clean sheet of paper. He stared at the imprint for a moment before folding the paper to hide the mark. Then he sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his chin thoughtfully. He really did appear too youthful to be a county magistrate. Gao imagined Li was the sort with powerful friends and connections.

  Magistrate Li finally glanced up, looking first to Wei-wei then at Gao.

  “We have not met before.” It was the first time the magistrate had acknowledged him. Gao certainly wouldn’t have been brought directly in to see the official had he shown up on his own.

  “He’s an associate of my brother’s,” Wei-wei chimed in. “His name is Gao.”

  “Gao,” the magistrate echoed thoughtfully.

  Gao hoped the man came across so many names in the course of the day that his own would soon be forgotten.

  “How did this come into your possession?” Li asked.

  “I found it in a pawn shop in Pingkang li.”

  Gao figured the farther he was removed from the origins of the jade seal, the better. “It looked valuable, so I bought it.”

  “And brought it immediately to my brother,” Wei-wei added hastily. Fortunately, she didn’t contradict his story. “But Huang wasn’t in his office. Is it genuine?”

  “I can’t be certain,” the magistrate replied. “I must report it to the imperial authorities at once.”

  He set the jade seal into a box, and tucked it away into a cabinet which he immediately locked. When he turned back to them, his look was serious. “I’m telling you both this news because we need as many people as assisting the authorities as possible. A victim was found dead beside the canal at the northern end of the Pingkang ward. My constables couldn’t identify the body, but they assumed from his clothes he was wealthy. His purse had been cut away and any other belongings lost or stolen.” He took a deep, heavy breath. “This jade chop and that victim, both appearing in the ward. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  The magistrate locked gazes with Gao. “As to you, Mister Gao, I will need your help to locate exactly in which pawn shop this was found. I would also ask that you come with me to see if you can identify the body.”

  “I don’t know if that would be useful. I don’t know many rich people.”

  “You seem well-acquainted with Lord Bai Huang and his sister,” the magistrate pointed out.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gao could see Wei-wei watching him, waiting for his response. Gao’s first instinct about the jade seal had been correct, but he’d failed to take his own advice. So here he was, with the county magistrate staring him down.

  “This servant will happily assist in any way he can.”

  Chapter 5

  Wei-wei was strongly discouraged from accompanying the magistrate and Gao back to Pingkang. Magistrate Li Chen warned her that it would be upsetting and unseemly for a young lady like her to be subjected to the unfortunate circumstances of his profession. In short, she was cut out and sent home.

  “Is this case the reason my brother has been called away for the last two days?” she asked as Li ushered her into a sedan.

  He shot her a confused look. “Why would Lord Bai Huang have anything to do with a criminal investigation? He’s a collator in the records office.”

  Li then gave the order for the runner to be on his way. Wei-wei looked back over her shoulder just in time to see Magistrate Li departing with Gao’s tall, lanky form beside him. A sudden thought came to her, forming a hollow pit in her stomach. Did Gao know more about the victim than he was admitting to?

  She had believed Gao’s story without question. How could she not trust him? He’d saved her life and Huang’s in the past, but Li Chen had been immediately suspicious of him. She’d thought it unfair. Gao didn’t dress or speak well, or carry a lofty family name about. He had scars on his hands and everything about him was rough-edged with a hint, no, a promise of danger. He came from the streets and didn’t hide it. Couldn’t hide it.

  As much as she wanted to deny it, she’d heard people refer to Gao and his knife. No one talked about knives that weren’t dangerous in some way or another. Huang had warned her away and Mingyu had warned her away. Even Gao had tried to warn her away from himself.

  No one said a thing when she returned home. The baby had everyone’s attention now. She should be grateful of that.

  “In a few months, once you get your strength back, you can try again,” she heard Mother saying to Yue-ying as Wei-wei passed her chamber.

  Because Yue-ying’s first attempt had yielded nothing but a worthless girl.

  Wei-wei walked through the courtyard to her own chamber. Everything was amiss and she felt unsettled and even more restless than usual. Maybe Magistrate Li was right. There was something unseemly about being connected in any way to death. It upset the harmony of things, called the very balance of the universe into question.

  Inside her room, Wei-wei removed her outer robe and draped it over the chair. Her maidservant would rub it with salt later to clean the dust from it. Wei-wei was too tired to take care of it at the moment. Her journey had taken her most of the day, and it had seemed like one dismissal after another.

  Except for her encounter Gao. At least he took her seriously, even if he did tease her about her manners and general inexperience about the world.

  She didn’t mind, Wei-wei thought as she sank into her bed. She even liked the teasing, a little bit.

  It was too bad that he was probably a criminal. Not guilty of these current crimes, but certainly of others in the past. She drifted off to sleep, thinking of how it felt to sit shoulder to shoulder with Gao, able to say whatever was on her mind. She wasn’t expected to remain dutifully silent. Nor did she have to be sheltered from unseemly things.

  She had to be woken up for the evening meal. Wei-wei took supper with Mother who once again expressed mild joy, but also disappointment over Yue-ying’s baby girl. Mother had so been looking forward to a grandson.

  “What is there a boy can do that a girl can’t?” Wei-wei countered, taking a slice of steamed bamboo between her chopsticks.

  “I’m not saying my girl isn’t clever,” Mother soothed. She was dressed in a house robe for supper with her hair pulled back in a simple knot. “But tradition requires a son to carry on the family line and give offerings to our ancestors.”

  “Will the spirits just starve, refusing to eat rice from a woman’s hand?” Wei-wei asked. “Which seems unreasonable, considering a woman probably cooked the rice.”

  The argument was rote by now.

  “Be respectful,” Mother said in a huff.

  They ate the rest of the evening meal in silence, which is what her family was so good at. There was nothing to listen to but the faint scrape, scrape, scrape of chopsticks against porcelain bowls.

  Afterward, Wei-wei returned to her room to read. She was still upset having overheard her mother earlier.

  Mother was a scholar’s daughter, raised on principles of obedience and filial piety. She’d believed her daughters should be educated, but she also believed they shouldn’t brag about it. If Wei-wei’s learning was for any purpose, it was to serve her family.

  Huang had been first-born in the family. She’d come two years later, but as a girl, Wei-wei had become nothing more than a placeholder. A sister between two brothers, destined to be forgotten once she was married to another family. She’d fought all her life not to disappear. To prove herself more useful to the family than just a temporary daughter to be married away.

  She drifted off to sleep again. When she woke up, Wei-wei heard a deep voice carrying across the courtyard.

  Huang. Her brother was home.

  Her heart leapt. Wei-wei rose and flew across the courtyard to the chamber that Huang and Yue-ying shared. She could see her brother’s silhouette through the paper panes of the window.

  Inside, he and Yue-ying were speaking quietly to one another. Huang was holding his daughter, rocking back and forth gently, and Wei-wei’s soul filled with happin
ess realizing it was the first time. She couldn’t bear to interrupt them. Instead she waited outside the chamber, even when the night air became chilled.

  Huang saw her as soon as he came out an hour later. He paused, lifted a hand to his lips to indicate quiet, then lifted one of the house lanterns and headed toward the front of the house to the outer courtyard. She followed him to his study where he lit the oil lamps before turning.

  The words burst out of her. “Huang, I was so worried.”

  “Thank you for taking care of Yue-ying. For taking care of everything.”

  Now that she could finally see him, Huang looked tired. Worn. She knew Huang was thought of as handsome. In his Academy days, his fellow scholars had taunted him by calling him miàn shǒu, which she’d taken some time to figure out was a somewhat derisive compliment that meant he had a pretty face that wealthy women desired in a lover. At the moment, however, there were deep circles beneath his eyes and when he sank into his chair, it was with his entire being. He collapsed like an abandoned theater puppet.

  “It’s been two days, Elder Brother.”

  She waited, watching him carefully. He scrubbed a hand over his face. For the first time, she noticed the stack of papers on his desk. When had those appeared?

  “The morning when Yue-ying went into labor, I saw the men at our door. Imperial guards,” she pressed.

  Huang closed his eyes, shielding himself from her gaze. “These are state matters.’

  Something was happening in Chang’an, and he had been pulled into it. Huang had to tell her. Her brother told her everything because he knew she would find out eventually anyway. They’d been that way since they were children.

  “A body was found beside the canal in the Pingkang li,” she prompted.

  He opened his eyes then and Wei-wei knew she’d hit upon something. She recounted her entire day to him including the jade seal and the visit to Magistrate Li. And Gao.

  “Gao?” he asked slowly. The name grated against his throat.

  What was her brother’s problem with Gao? Huang was the one who regularly sought him out for information.