The Hidden Moon

by Jeannie Lin

  “And you’ll be married soon.”

  When she glanced up, Wei-wei was surprised to see her father didn’t look completely happy with the idea.

  “I suppose it’s time,” she said sullenly.

  “It is.” He appeared deep in thought. “Magistrate Li Chen showed himself to be a worthy match for you today. He remained calm and capable throughout the ordeal.”

  And proper. Li had stopped in the middle of a crisis to properly address her father by title. Their union would be a courteous one.

  “I hear he comes from a good family,” she recited.

  “Who was that other man with him?”

  She snapped to attention, heat rushing to her face. “The other man?”

  “He was injured, and had a…rough look about him.”

  Father watched her face closely. When she’d seen that Gao was hurt, she’d wanted to rush to him and Father had sensed it.

  “Just one of Elder Brother’s associates,” she replied, her throat suddenly dry.

  He considered her answer for longer than he should have. Finally, he nodded.

  “That is all for now. Send your younger brother in,” he instructed. And then, as she neared the door. “You’ve done well with your brother’s studies, Wei-wei.”

  She thought of Chang-min handing her his essay to seek her approval. There were few acceptable ways to receive commendation and acceptance in the Bai household. How many papers and poems and writings had she passed to her father over the years?

  Today, she’d urgently passed yet another paper to her father through the gates of the Imperial City.

  She looked back to see Father sorting through his papers. There were things she’d said and done over the past week that Father would never accept, but her father had trusted her when he needed to. It was the victory she would take.

  Chapter 24

  The next days went by as the city settled back into its regular rhythm. The drums sounded in the morning to open the gates and in the evening to close them. Most of the inhabitants of Chang’an would never know of the murder and conspiracy that upended the Imperial City for those ten days.

  Wei-wei didn’t dare leave home without permission while her father was home. All she had was the two courtyards of their mansion, the study, her books.

  Her brother was able to come home now, even if it was late in the evenings at times. The family still didn’t know of his position in the Censorate. It remained a secret between her and Huang.

  One night, he returned close to the middle of the Rat Hour late, late at night. Wei-wei was up, rocking the baby to give Yue-ying a chance to sleep. She was getting better at it. The little treasure was snuggled in her arms and Wei-wei was no longer afraid of dropping her.

  Huang went directly to her. She knew something had happened from the dark look in his eyes. She feared that something had happened to Gao. They hadn’t heard from him in the days since the city lifted the emergency curfew.

  “Zheng Shi was killed by bandits on the road two days after leaving Chang’an,” he reported. “None of his attendants were harmed.”

  She should have been shocked, but was surprised to find she wasn’t. Zheng had stirred up fear and violence and it had come back to him. They would never know whether it was truly the work of bandits, or the Emperor’s form of mercy to allow a long-time bureaucrat to save face. His name was spared, while his crime was punished.

  “Is there any other news?” she asked. Huang knew what she meant.

  “No word from Gao.” Huang took his daughter from her. The infant only stirred, but thankfully remained sleeping through the exchange. He continued in a lowered tone. “He might have gone into hiding just to avoid any unwanted questions. The imperial investigation and the county investigation are still open to complete the record.”

  “But is it over?” she asked.

  He considered it, then nodded. “It’s over.”

  “What if something has happened to him?”

  “Gao is cunning and he knows the streets better than anyone. His best protection is himself. There’s nothing more we could do.”

  His dismissive answer was less than satisfactory, but Huang was right that there wasn’t anything she could do. Certainly not while she was trapped at home.

  She was tired and Huang was tired and she wouldn’t find out any more tonight. They said their good-nights and sleep-wells, and Huang carried his infant daughter back to his chamber. Wei-wei retreated to her bed where she lay awake, staring up at the moon. It was waning now, a sliver of it had disappeared. Before it was full again, she’d be married. The official betrothal was to take place in two days.

  She just wanted to know that Gao was safe. There would be no seeing Gao or speaking to him or even asking about him once she was betrothed. Certainly not once she was married.

  Why did the word always make her feel a sense of loss? Except for when Gao had mentioned marriage. In that instance, she’d felt a bright flash of hope, before regret seeped in.

  Wei-wei fell asleep wishing.

  The next morning, it seemed the moon had heard her plea.

  “There is someone outside the side entrance,” Zhou Dan told her.

  She hurried to the gate, and found Gao there. He was waiting for her in the alleyway.

  He stopped her, holding her away when she tried to fly into his arms. “Wei-wei,” he warned, looking toward the house.

  She was so happy to see him that she’d forgotten herself. She pulled him away from the gate and deeper into the alleyway. It was still reckless to be out there like this, but she wanted to see him too much to be cautious.

  “How are you? You’re well? You disappeared.”

  She supposed that from his perspective, she was the one who had disappeared.

  “I wanted to come,” he replied, looking at her so intently that her heart skipped. “You know it’s not so easy. Even this, you talking to me. Here. This is enough to destroy your reputation.”

  She shook her head, wanting to deny it, but she knew it was true.

  “My father is home now,” she said soberly. “I’m to be betrothed tomorrow.”

  Emotion flickered in his eyes. “I know. I didn’t know it would be tomorrow, but I knew it would be some day. I came to tell you I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?” She couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice.

  “Yes.” He fought to keep his tone neutral. “I couldn’t stay, knowing,”

  Knowing she was to be betrothed. Knowing she was marrying Magistrate Li.

  It was too much to bear. She’d always imagined Gao would at least be out there, in a place she could at least imagine him even if she couldn’t see him. How foolish she was. What difference would it make? Whether Gao was a few wards away, with walls within walls between them, or if he was a hundred li away? In either case, they’d be unable to see one another.

  Wei-wei couldn’t explain it, but there was a difference. Her eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears. She couldn’t expect Gao to live his life for her.

  “It’s time for a change,” he told her quietly. “The Emperor granted me a hundred taels of silver. This seems like a good use for it.”

  His next words lodged in his throat, and she summoned enough courage to reach for him, laying her hand against his chest. For now, he was still something she could touch and feel, but not for much longer.

  “This is so awful,” she whispered brokenly.

  Gao took her hand in his, but it wasn’t to take hold of it. He pressed something into her palm. It was the silk bracelet he’d woven for her. Her fingers closed protectively around it.

  “You’ll forget me, in time.”

  “No, I won’t,” she snapped, her vision blurring. “My memory is very good. I’ll remember you when I’m eighty years old—”

  Gao did take her in his arms finally, pulling her close to press his lips to hers. The kiss was full of urgency with a touch of defiance — but then Gao ended it, stepping away from her. She wanted more than any
thing to have him back, even though there was nothing but a brick wall keeping them from being discovered.

  “I’m going now,” Gao breathed, his expression one of anguish.

  “You should know that you have--good qualities. You’re a good person.” It was difficult to find words, but this was the last chance she would ever have. She had to tell him everything there was to say. “Do good things.”

  “I’m glad for all of it, Wei-wei. Glad to have met you.”

  She tried to get a long look at him. A last look, but her vision swam before her. Her cheeks were drenched.

  “I’ve fallen in with love you, Gao,” she said before the next sob stole her breath. “I’ll love you until I grow old and gray.”

  He went still, the stark angles of his face fixed and tense. She wished Gao would kiss her once more, but instead he turned to go.

  She fled back into her house. It would have destroyed her to watch him fade into the distance. Not caring who saw her, Wei-wei fled to her room and collapsed upon her bed. It was still morning, and the household had just woken up, but she stayed where she was. Everything inside of her hurt and she curled up tight to try to banish this feeling — or was it to hold onto it? Once she no longer felt his loss, Gao would truly be gone. This grief was laced with her last touch and taste of him.

  Nothing would ever be bright or adventurous or exhilarating again. Gao wouldn’t be there to tease her or listen to her stories. Show her a world beyond these walls.

  Wei-wei didn’t know long it was before Mother entered her room.

  “Are you not well, Daughter?” Mother asked gently.

  She kept her back turned. Her eyes were swollen and the pain in her chest wouldn’t go away. She looked and felt miserable.

  “My head aches,” she murmured.

  Her head did hurt from crying, but really, she just wanted to be alone for a while.

  Mother came to sit on the raised platform of the bed. “Do you want me to brew some wild ginger tea?”

  Wei-wei closed her eyes as her mother’s fingers combed slowly through her hair. “No.”

  “Change is always difficult, but you’ve always been so brave.”

  It wasn’t so bad having Mother fuss over her. She lay quietly while Mother stroked her hair, and felt a little bit better. Not much, but a little.

  “Every woman is destined to leave her family one day. When I was betrothed to your father, I knew nothing about him. I hoped I would marry a kind man. A good man without too many vices.”

  Wei-wei was still so broken up about Gao leaving. It took her a moment to realize Mother thought she was upset about the upcoming betrothal.

  “What happened when you finally met Father?” Wei-wei’s nose was clogged and her voice sounded small to her own ears.

  “He never said anything to me until our wedding night.”

  “What did you think of him?”

  “He was kind. And well-spoken. I was very fortunate.”

  Yet her parents lived apart for months at a time. They hadn’t shared the same bed since she was born, and Father had a second wife, Chang-min’s birth mother. Mother always insisted she didn’t mind — that he deserved companionship and she didn’t care to move to the provinces where Father’s appointment required him to be for most of the year.

  “I came to love your father in time.”

  Mother usually wasn’t so open to her questions. Maybe it was because Wei-wei would soon be betrothed and then married. In the short time that remained, she was supposed to teach Wei-wei all the things she needed to do to be a proper wife. Things that weren’t written in books.

  Wei-wei thought twice before asking her next question, but the pact of silence was temporarily lifted. She may never have the opportunity again.

  “Are you happy, Mother?”

  Wei-wei held her breath waiting for the reply.

  “Of course, I’m happy,” Mother replied. “My children have grown. They’re strong and clever. I’m very happy.”

  Yet she frequently retreated to her room with headaches. How many times had her mother done so to escape?

  She turned around to see Mother looking at her with a mix of kindness and concern. Her mother was happy and she did love Father, but there was still something unfulfilled within her. So much that she would hide away in the dark for hours at a time, searching.

  But there was no solution. The pieces of the puzzle had been locked in for so long, the missing key long gone.

  “Are you hungry?” Mother asked, which told her it must be time for the mid-day meal.

  “No,” she answered. “I just want to sleep.”

  Eventually Wei-wei did fall asleep. When she woke up again, it was dark outside. There was a light shining out in the courtyard in an odd location. She could see a faint glow through the rice paper window.

  The light stayed there for a long time, piquing her interest enough for her to get out of bed. She emerged, disoriented, from her room into the garden and the light of the waning moon. Someone was in the corner of the garden by the fish pond.

  Wei-wei squinted as she came forward. It was Zhou Dan, digging in the dirt.

  With all the conspiracy she’d been entangled in lately, Wei-wei’s thoughts immediately strayed to wickedness and wrongdoing.

  “Zhou Dan!” she whisper-shouted.

  He turned, shovel suspended in mid-air.

  “What are you doing?”

  He couldn’t be burying a body. There wasn’t enough dirt in that part of the garden.

  Instead of answering, the manservant reached down and picked up a crumpled paper from the ground. He mouthed something she couldn’t hear. She came closer.

  “Your friend,” he repeated.

  “Friend?” she asked, confused.

  He shot a look of disbelief at her. “Your friend left this in the stable. No one else has been back there.”

  Gao had left a note? Her heart gave a little squeeze.

  Eagerly, Wei-wei took the paper from him. The writing appeared crude and uneven. “Dig under rock. How did you know which rock?”

  “My father and I tend this garden every day. Only one stone had been moved.”

  “Oh.” She bit down on her lip, feeling foolish for asking. The rest of the note was just a house number and street.

  “Is your friend secretly a rich man?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zhou Dan reached into the fold of his tunic and pulled out a silver ingot, molded into the shape of a boat. “The paper was wrapped around this.”

  Part of Gao’s reward from the Emperor.

  “I wasn’t going to keep it,” he insisted, holding it out to her. “It was left on your family’s property.”

  “You can keep it. If Mister Gao left the note in the stable, he meant for you to find it.”

  Zhou Dan first looked surprised, but then the look transformed into a grin. “Thank you, my lady. This is the first time I’ve ever touched silver.”

  He stuffed the ingot back into his tunic and picked up the shovel again to resume digging. It couldn’t have been buried deep. Just a few shovelfuls later, Zhou Dan hit against something solid.

  Wei-wei peered over Zhou Dan’s shoulder as he knelt down. There was a bundle in the dirt, wrapped in cloth. Zhou Dan pulled the covering aside to revealing an entire cache of silver ingots.

  “Waa…” Zhou Dan made a sound of amazement as he dragged the bundle up. “It’s a fortune.”

  Wei-wei looked at the folded paper again. She didn’t know where the address was.

  Gao had talked about starting a new life, but he’d left his hundred taels of silver in their courtyard. Was Gao waiting for his money at the address? The thought of seeing him again, even just one more time, made her heart beat faster, but it didn’t make sense for him to leave this note when he could have just asked her that morning to retrieve it for him.

  Her wild heart was already whispering. The horse. The carriage. Everyone else would be asleep in just a few hours.


  Her wild heart was urging her into disaster. Not this time. She tucked the note into her sleeve. It was the only note she had from Gao, though its message was far from romantic.

  It appeared there was one more mystery to solve, but it would have to wait until morning.

  Chapter 25

  The gates to the magistrate’s yamen were still shut when the carriage arrived the next morning. Wei-wei stepped out and headed toward the entrance, to the brass gong situated beside it. She lifted the striker, looked around at the empty streets, then swung it against the brass.

  The gong rang out through the still morning in waves. After a while, the sound settled back into silence, but the gates remained closed. It was said that anyone, rich or poor, need only ring the bell to request a hearing the magistrate. The affect had been so dramatic that she didn’t dare do it again. She looked back to the carriage where Zhou Dan sat guarding the knotted sack of silver. He merely shrugged as to their next course of action.

  Fortunately, the gate creaked open a moment later and a servant peered out. Wei-wei asked to see Magistrate Li and the servant disappeared to relay the message. Magistrates lived in the residential section of the yamen and worked in the offices. Li Chen should be inside even though the gates were closed.

  The gate finally opened again and Li Chen appeared dressed in his magistrate’s uniform complete with his official black cap headdress.

  He was surprised to see her. “Lady Bai.”

  “Magistrate Li.”

  “You rise early,” he remarked, then immediately looked uncomfortable which, in turn, made her uncomfortable.

  It was the sort of intimate observation a man and woman would only know about one another once married. Their official betrothal ceremony was to take place that afternoon, but they were already more than strangers. She’d come very close to accusing him of corruption — which certainly constituted some sort of relationship.

  “I need your assistance.”

  “Yes,” he replied, listening.

  She handed him the note and explained the situation.