by Jeannie Lin
By the time he left the bath house several hours later, the sun had risen high into sky. His clothes had dried enough to wear. The summer heat would have to do the rest.
Gao went to call on Fu Lin’s family in the tenements. They reported the boy hadn’t come home the previous night, though no one seemed to think anything of it. He came and went as he pleased. Gao left a message that he was looking for Fu Lin, giving several locations where they could meet. Then he sought out Fu’s usual haunts — the tea houses, gambling dens. Even the pawn shop.
“Been missing you around here.” Headman Hui cornered Gao as he was asking around the lottery dens about Fu Lin. The boy would sometimes peddle game slips around the streets for a little extra money.
“Collections have been lagging.”
“It’s only been a few days, Hui,” Gao replied noncommittally.
“Ever thinking about getting back to work?”
“I’m taking care of some things right now.”
Gao tried to extract himself as delicately as possible. It served no purpose to anger Hui, who still had many street connections. Keeping the peace or at least a neutral stance seemed a good strategy in general. Unfortunately, Hui seemed to have come over with something in mind.
“I hear you’ve turned thief-catcher. Good money in that?”
Gao shrugged. Gossip about the dramatic arrests had inevitably spread through the streets. Hui was rightfully curious, that was all. Still, Gao thought it was worth exploring the possibility that the gambling den boss might know more.
“Have you heard anything about those men? The killers?” Gao asked.
“Only that they’re both dead,” Hui said, dismissively. “Take care. Thief-catching can be dangerous work.”
As Hui walked away flanked by his henchmen, it was unclear to Gao whether he’d just been threatened or warned. Or Hui could just be making conversation. One thing was clear, crime bosses did not like thief-catchers.
Without any idea where Fu Lin was, Gao decided to settle down at one of the meeting places he’d left with the boy’s family. Maybe Fu Lin would receive word and show up.
An odd sense of being out of place followed him as he moved through the streets. He realized what was missing — it was the constant watchfulness and scheming. He didn’t need to hustle for the next coin. He wasn’t wondering whether he would end the day with food in his stomach or not.
Chapter 19
For the second night in a row, Gao was sleeping in her house, separated from her by only the division between the inner and outer courtyard. Even though he was untrustworthy and a cutthroat, she felt safer with him there. Had her brother asked Gao to stay? What did it mean that the very person who had threatened Huang’s life was now the person Huang asked to watch over her?
All those questions didn’t matter. He was gone before she even woke up the next morning.
“Did Gao say anything before he left?” she asked Zhou Dan who only shook his head wordlessly, avoiding her eyes. As a servant, Zhou Dan wasn’t supposed to see things, but he saw things.
She wanted to apologize for subjecting him to the heated argument she and Gao had had in the carriage. They hadn’t even argued about what they were arguing about. She had hoped to speak to Gao as well.
It was unfair of her to assume Gao would be there that morning, waiting to do whatever she expected him to do.
So much had happened the night before, and she wanted to talk things over with Huang, but he hadn’t returned either. With her brother and Gao gone, Wei-wei could do nothing but wait. She was too distracted to even set the lesson for Chang-min. Her younger brother had settled in the study on his own to read over passages from the Classics.
Chang-min really was dedicated. Much more dedicated than Huang had been at that age. She hoped she hadn’t ruined the poor boy’s reputation venturing all over the city in his name.
It was past noon when someone came calling at their gate for Bai Huang. The servants gave the usual answer that Lord Bai was not present and asked to take a message, but the visitor was adamant.
“She’s a woman,” Zhou Dan told her, with great interest.
Wei-wei went to the gate and was surprised to see who was standing there.
“Lady Song Yi?”
The courtesan stared at her with a frown of almost recognition.
“Yes, we met last night,” Wei-wei acknowledged impatiently, drawing the woman into the courtyard. “My elder brother isn’t home. What’s the matter?”
“You’re very beautiful,” the courtesan said, not entirely happy with the observation. “Just like your brothers. I should have known.”
“Well, I was one of my brothers,” Wei-wei reminded her. “Did Bai Huang ask you to come here?”
“He came to the pleasure house several days ago,” she explained. “He told me to come find him if I heard anything or saw anything. But the Imperial City was barricaded so I couldn’t get to the records office.”
The imperial offices closed off? When did that happen?
“I managed to find your family’s mansion by asking around,” Song Yi continued. “If you know how to reach Lord Bai, there is something he should see.”
Song Yi looked genuinely concerned, and Wei-wei felt helpless not being able to do something for the other woman, but there was no telling when her brother would return. “If it’s an urgent matter, can you not go to the magistrate?”
The courtesan shook her head. “I can’t go to Magistrate Li. I’m afraid it will put him in danger.”
That put a halt to her questioning.
“Are you in danger?” Wei-wei asked. She had learned that the pleasure quarter could be a treacherous place and courtesans, even the ones who were praised and celebrated, were too often expendable to the men of power they served.
“I don’t know.” Song Yi tried to explain what had happened. She was flustered and shaking. “Someone’s been watching us. It’s a warning.”
Wei-wei didn’t want to send Song Yi back alone, as frightened as she was. “I know someone who might be able to help.”
She summoned Zhou Dan to fetch the carriage, and convinced Song Yi to show her this warning first. Zhou drove them both, bringing a wooden club up beside him in the seat though Wei-wei assured him it was probably unnecessary. This didn’t sound like the work of street rabble.
The quarter looked like a different place in the daylight without its swaying lanterns and ladies in colorful silk. Even though it was past noon, the pleasure houses were quiet and asleep. Perhaps to prepare themselves for the late evenings they were known for.
There was a girl with a broom at the front of the House of Heavenly Peaches. Wei-wei almost didn’t recognize her. It was Sparrow, looking child-like without her painted lips and shaped eyebrows. The young courtesan didn’t recognize her either, giving her barely a glance as Wei-wei and Song Yi walked by.
If they were truly being watched, as Song Yi feared, then there was little to raise any alarm with just Wei-wei visiting. They were just two women, walking into a courtesan house before business hours. The inside was quiet as well. There were a few girls cleaning the floors. Cooking sounds came from the kitchen in the back. There was a routine and ritual that played out every day in the House of Heavenly Peaches, Wei-wei realized. It was very much like the theater. Every night was a performance.
“In my chamber,” Song Yi said in a low voice.
Song Yi’s quarters were in the back corner of the house. She had a private sitting area and sleeping room to herself. There was nothing amiss in the front room. There was a low table and tasteful scrolls hung on the walls. It looked to be a place to entertain guests. Then Song Yi directed her through the curtains into the chamber in back. An older woman in a gray robe was situated there, scrubbing at a large black character on the wall.
“Auntie!” Song Yi chastised.
“Need to get rid of it,” the woman insisted in a gruff voice. “It’s scaring the girls.”
Wei-wei assumed Aunti
e was one of the former courtesans who remained with the house after retiring from her role as hostess.
“Is that it?” Wei-wei asked, looking up at the character on the wall.
Song Yi nodded, biting her lip anxiously.
A single character, ‘Li’. Exactly as Song Yi had described.
“I imagined it would be more…sinister,” Wei-wei admitted.
“Is this not sinister enough?” Song Yi cried.
The character was painted in what looked like black ink. It spanned nearly the entire wall in the small space. Auntie’s scrubbing had transformed part of it into a dark smudge.
“It’s probably some jealous patron,” Auntie said. “You’ve been spending too much time with that magistrate.”
“He pays for my time, I have no choice in the matter,” Song Yi replied stiffly.
Auntie snorted.
“When did you find this?” Wei-wei asked. She had figured Li Chen and the courtesan were involved. She didn’t need to know the lurid details.
“I didn’t leave the gathering at the park until nearly sunrise. I found this when I returned this morning.”
Song Yi hadn’t even been allowed to sleep. She’d probably been paid to stay all night, playing music and conversing until the last guest left.
“Most of the girls were at that gathering or upstairs with patrons,” Auntie added. “I tell you, once in a while an admirer gets possessive. They think something like this is a sign of devotion. Just ignore it. Now you’ve barely had any rest. Go sleep in my room for a few hours so you can get ready for tonight.”
“I’m fine, Auntie,” Song Yi snapped. She turned back to Wei-wei. “What do you think?”
Whether it was an overzealous admirer or an enemy of Li Chen’s sending a warning, both were too disturbing to ignore.
“Can you take leave tonight?” Wei-wei asked. Song Yi looked exhausted and frightened on top of that.
Auntie made a rude noise at that suggestion.
“We’ll go together to the magistrate,” Wei-wei went on, ignoring the garrulous old woman. “I know you’re concerned for him, but he’s a man with power and influence. It’s his duty to address injustices like this.”
“Injustice.” Auntie turned back to the wall and continued scrubbing. “She calls it injustice. I call it a stain on the wall. Your magistrate will call it two fussy women who are not worth the trouble.”
Song Yi directed Wei-wei back out to the sitting room, and presumably out of earshot from Auntie. Or at least Auntie was no longer invited to comment on the conversation.
“You said you knew someone else who might be able to help?”
Wei-wei let out a breath. She was less confident about this than she had let on, but the man was practically family now since Yue-ying had married Huang.
“He used to be head constable in this county,” she explained. “His name is Wu Kaifeng.”
Heaven and Earth, black and yellow. Space and time, vast and limitless.
Sun high or low, moon full or parsed; with stars and lodges spread in place.
Gao held the pages open over the tea house table, palms flat over the paper as if that would keep the characters from swimming together before his eyes.
“It is impossible for you to learn enough in this lifetime to impress her. You must know that.”
Gao looked up to watch as Mingyu poured hot tea into his bowl. He should feel flattered that she always took the time to grace him with a remark, even if it burned of acid.
“I know that,” he replied coolly.
He’d found the tattered booklet at the pawn shop a couple days ago. The Thousand Character Classic was commonly used to create lottery slips, but it was also used as a primer to teach children. The first lines were still familiar. He’d memorized them years ago as a child learning how to read. The rest he’d tried to recall in bits and pieces, but never managed more than a few minutes before tossing it aside in frustration.
Mingyu’s eyes flickered across the page, probably holding back laughter at the tiny sketches above the characters. She was known to recite poetry and debate philosophy with scholars. Gao, on the other hand, had paid the letter reader on the corner to read these nonsense lines to him while he drew in little pictures to help him remember the words.
Maybe another man might feel shame with those shapely eyes looking down on him, but Gao was who he was. If he had any shame, it would be for a multitude of other sins.
“You do it because it makes you feel closer to her,” Mingyu remarked, realization dawning.
A sharp pain needled him in the chest. Gao set his elbow onto the table, propping his head against three fingers. The position served to partially hide his face. “It gives me a headache,” he complained.
Mingyu lowered herself onto the stool across from him. “You’re pining after her.” Her tone had softened considerably.
He found her sudden kindness more grating than her cynicism. His first thought was to rudely chase her away, but no one ever dared to say a cross word to Mingyu in the tea house. Here, she was Queen Empress and even those who didn’t know of her prior reputation were in awe of her. Those who weren’t, knew enough to be mindful of her intimidating husband, the infamous Wu Kaifang, who cast a long shadow and was always hovering nearby.
But it was his rule not to ruin the road he’d just tread on. “Do you have any advice, Lady Mingyu?” he asked.
“Well, Mister Gao. If I were a brothel madam, I would tell you to make the acquaintance of another girl. Despite what the lovesick may say, that distraction does sometimes work.”
There could be no other girl. It wasn’t just that he found Wei-wei beautiful, he also found her difficult. And he liked her way of being difficult.
“That’s bad advice, Lady Mingyu.”
She flashed him what may have been her first genuine smile. “There’s no possible good advice for what you’re suffering.”
He wasn’t suffering. He was just sitting here, trying to read lines from a nonsense poem that Wei-wei probably memorized when she was five years old, that was all.
The sudden beating of the signal drums from outside interrupted them. All conversation in the tea house ceased as the drumbeat continued. It was the city drums sounding from the guard towers throughout the city. They were used to signal the closing of the ward gates, but the hour was too early for that. It was long before sundown.
Wu Kaifeng came to Mingyu’s side. She reached out to him, taking hold of his arm as if to steady herself and him as well. “What’s happening?” she asked.
He moved in quick strides to the entrance with Mingyu following closely behind. Gao looked out the window to see a messenger on horseback coursing down the street.
“Curfew!” the messenger shouted. “Curfew is in effect. Clear the streets!”
“Emergency measures,” Wu explained, drawing his wife back inside. “Go home,” he instructed the patrons. “The magistrate is enacting early curfew.”
Either due to his past authority as head constable or his commanding presence, the customers immediately began existing the tea house. The streets were far from clear, however. Everyone milled around outside, asking strangers what was happening.
“Clear the streets!” The rider was making a return trip through the lane. “For the safety of the city!”
Typically, the ward gates would close at dawn, but activity could continue freely inside the ward. For them to be clearing the streets as well, something big had to have happened.
Gao stood to go, intending to hunt down several contacts to see if they knew anything. He was stopped by the sight of Magistrate Li riding up to the tea house. Li wore his dark green magistrate’s uniform and was accompanied by several constables, all visibly armed.
“Is Lady Bai here?” he asked Mingyu.
“No, I haven’t seen her.” Mingyu said. Inexplicably, she looked toward Gao which prompted the magistrate to do the same.
“Her family is worried for her. They said she left to come here h
ours ago.”
Wu came to stand beside his wife. “What has happened, Magistrate Li?”
The two men had worked together not long ago. Li ran a hand over his neck in agitation. “Wu, I can really use your help with this.”
“What’s happened?” Wu Kaifeng repeated.
The magistrate’s gaze swept the tea house, making sure the room was empty. His eyes lingered on Gao, but he made the decision to continue. “It’s Constable Ma. They got him.”
The head constable. Gao didn’t have to ask what Magistrate Li meant. Head Constable Ma had led the party to hunt down and apprehend the canal killers. Whoever ‘they’ where, they had already gotten rid of the machete man and his accomplice, double knives. Now they had also murdered Head Constable Ma as a warning.
“Have you seen Lady Bai?” Li asked again, looking directly at Gao now.
“I haven’t.”
But if Wei-wei was out and unprotected in the Pingkang li right now, he was going to find her.
Over the next hour, confusion ruled in Pingkang. The city’s criers continued to ride through the streets, announcing early curfew and urging everyone to get inside. All the vendors in the marketplace were forced to close up early and the lanes became clogged with carts and wheelbarrows as everyone struggled to get home. The patrols moved through tea houses and restaurants, warning that arrests would start.
Amidst the turmoil, Gao heard rumors that there was some big announcement to come in the morning. For now, clear the streets.
He checked with several informants asking around for Wei-wei. She wasn’t known in Pingkang li, unlike her brother, but if anyone had seen her, she’d definitely be remembered. One contact indicated that she might have been seen at the House of Heavenly Peaches. Gao hurried there and once again encountered Magistrate Li with his posse.
“Have you found her?” they both asked each other.
The answer was no and no.
“You should be careful,” Magistrate Li warned as they started to set out in different directions. “This lot, whoever they are, they’ve sent warnings to the magistrate’s office, to the constable stations. No one is safe.”
