The Hidden Moon

by Jeannie Lin

  Had her family learned about him and sent her away to avoid scandal? Was she in danger? How would he be able to find out what happened to her?

  Finally, he lifted his head to face Li Chen. “When does the position start?”

  Gao stood in front of the Bai mansion. A month had passed since he’d met Wei-wei in the alleyway beside it. He’d told her he was leaving Chang’an, but hadn’t gotten any farther away than the east end of the capital.

  He was outfitted in the head constable’s uniform which consisted of a black hanfu robe and leather arm guards. He’d moved around in it long enough that the uniform no longer felt like a costume, but he still endured the occasional taunt from his former cronies.

  Occasionally, Hui would attempt to invite him for tea, which Gao continued to refuse. The crime boss was eager to know how much the new head constable could be influenced. It was a delicate balance, as his association with Hui and other men on the shadier end of things had always had been. For the most part, the magistrate turned a blind eye on gambling dens, so Gao did as well.

  When he rang the bell at the gate, it was the manservant Zhou Dan who answered.

  “Mister Gao,” he greeted, surprisingly cheerful. The young man looked him up and down before correcting himself. “Constable Gao?”

  “Is the elder Lord Bai home?”

  Zhou Dan invited him inside and allowed him to wait in the first courtyard. Gao took in a view of the house from where he stood. The outer courtyard was where the studios and parlor rooms were located. He’d been brought here before and had even been allowed stay for a few nights in the outer courtyard. It looked the same, but didn’t feel the same. Wei-wei hadn’t yet returned and the house felt different without her in it.

  At this point, he didn’t know where she was or if she would ever return, which perhaps made him bolder.

  The study door opened and Zhou Dan emerged, coming forward to usher Gao in.

  Wei-wei’s father was standing as entered. He was as broad-shouldered and commanding as Gao remembered. Senior members of the Ministry of War appeared more like soldiers than politicians.

  “Lord Bai,” he greeted with a bow.

  “Head Constable Gao.”

  No bow for him, but just the use of his title was something in his favor. A barely respectable position was still respectable. At least he was able to get in the door, though Huang may have helped with that.

  “This humble servant—” The words were still awkward. He didn’t have many dealings with the aristocratic families in the northeastern quadrant. That was Magistrate Li’s domain.

  Lord Bai waited, black eyes boring into Gao.

  “This humble servant on this auspicious day.” He didn’t know if it was truly auspicious. “Regrets that he has no family to speak on his behalf, so he has come here personally to ask the most honorable Lord Bai for permission to marry his daughter.”

  The man remained silent. A muscle worked in his jaw, tensing and untensing. Gao was grateful that Lord Bai didn’t have his sword on him today.

  The stand-off broke as Lord Bai called for tea, skewered Gao with another sharp look, then invited him to sit. They simply stared at one another as they waited for the tea to come. Even when it did, Lord Bai continued to stare at Gao while the maidservant poured the tea. Gao had no choice but to follow his lead. Wei-wei had mentioned her father didn’t speak when he had nothing to say which was starting to alarm him.

  Steam rose from the bowls. The leaves had already been added and the wispy cloud of steam formed a thin screen between them. When Bai drank, he drank. When Bai set his tea down, Gao did the same.

  “I’ve seen you before,” Lord Bai said.

  “Yes. Once, sir.”

  “You work with Magistrate Li Chen,” Lord Bai said.

  “Yes sir.”

  “For a long time?”

  “Only three weeks.”

  “You were involved in the investigation of the Incident at Yanxi Gate?”

  “Yes, but not as constable.”

  “How did you come to be promoted so quickly?”

  “The last constable was killed. Sir.”

  Lord Bai’s eagle eyes never left him the entire time. No wonder Wei-wei was afraid of her father. Gao, however, was only afraid he would be refused. By all rights, Lord Bai should refuse him.

  “It appeared that my daughter knows you. How is that?”

  Gao paused. To reveal anything would be to reveal too much. He’d compromise Wei-wei’s reputation and destroy any chance he had of gaining Lord Bai’s approval. But to lie or say nothing would also be damaging.

  “I protected her whenever I could.”

  Lord Bai spent a long time weighing his response.

  “You said you had no family to speak for you. Where is your family?”

  Gao felt a pain deep inside his bones. “Passed away or long gone.”

  “Were they from Chang’an?”

  “Yes. My father was a disgraced tax collector sent from the city. My mother and I were separated after his death.”

  Wei-wei’s father let out a slow exhale, looking Gao’s uniform over. “What did you do before you were appointed constable?”

  “Whatever it took to keep me fed.”

  Lord Bai did not appear impressed.

  As painful as the process was, this was what Gao knew he should have done after Wei-wei had told him she loved him. He should have walked into their house and made his case. He might have fared just as well then as he did now, but he wouldn’t have given up his chance.

  “My daughter is very precious to me.”

  It was the only time Lord Bai had revealed any part of himself, and Gao seized on it. “Wei-wei is precious to me as well. More than gold.”

  The aristocrat fixed a hard, disapproving stare onto him. Gao realized, too late, where he had mis-stepped.

  “Wei-ling is precious to me,” he quickly corrected to her actual name, which was also out of line.

  “Lady Bai,” he corrected for a third attempt. He was about to be executed.

  The elder Lord Bai looked as though he’d had enough. “So, Gao is a family name?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What is your given name?”

  Gao hadn’t used any other name in years. He wasn’t even sure if it was correct.

  He swallowed past the sudden dryness in his throat. “It was Shen, sir.”

  Lord Bai took in the information, nodded, and then methodically set the bowls of tea aside. Picking up an ink stick, he ground out some ink, and then dipped a brush into it.

  Over the last few weeks, Gao had been trying to improve his writing. He hadn’t been aware that the head constable was expected to turn in reports pretty frequently. Currently, Gao paid a letter writer to do them while he dictated, which ate into his wages. Wei-wei’s father had obviously done this thousands of times.

  He wished he could understand what the man was writing, but upside-down and with Lord Bai’s elaborate brush script, there was no chance.

  “I have a request, Head Constable Gao Shen.” Lord Bai let the ink on the paper dry before handing it to him. “Bring my daughter safely home. Then we’ll talk again.”

  Chapter 27

  Wei-Wei set her book down and closed her eyes. Crisp, cool air filled her lungs and seeped into her skin. After her betrothal had dissolved, she’d retreated to a Taoist convent tucked into the mountainside of Huashan. It was a place to seek peace and purity — and occasionally served as a refuge from an unwanted marriage. She had been there for a month now, and every day she grew more restless. It was the opposite of what she was supposed to strive for in this sanctuary.

  At first there was the thrill of a new adventure. Huashan was a sacred mountain, and the view from its heights was truly breathtaking. From the ethereal mist that covered the peak to the vibrant green of the valley below. She wrote poems inspired by the surroundings, learned how to find the edible plants that grew along the trails, created paintings of the landscape.

/>   Though she hadn’t been ordained, Wei-wei lived alongside the Taoist nuns who ran the convent. She dressed in the same simple gray robes and pinned her hair in a simple knot to blend in among them. She was given chores like tending to the convent garden and taking on kitchen duties on a rotating basis. At first even the little tasks had been interesting due to novelty. For instance, Wei-wei had never cooked anything in her life. Learning how to boil and stir and put salt on grains and vegetables to season them was fascinating. Unfortunately, most of their meals consisted of boiled millet and picked radishes. Eventually those tasks became routine, and weren’t enough to distract her.

  That morning, she’d gone to forage for herbs and wild mushrooms. Afterward, she decided to retreat to one of the natural alcoves in the mountainside instead of returning to her cell. The rocky formation was just off the grounds of the convent. The nuns used the alcoves as places of meditation and reflection, but Wei-wei had thought to read instead. The book of poems she’d brought was one she’d read before several times.

  It had been written by a distant relative who shared the family name of Bai. He’d also lived in Chang’an for a time, moving in and out of favor with imperial authority. During various periods of isolation, he wrote poems. This one was about a pipa player who’d once been celebrated, but had eventually fallen so far from grace that she was forced to marry a lowly merchant. The poet similarly lamented his own fall from grace.

  Partway through the preface and she was already agitated. The pipa player was considered on her own merit and accomplishments only until she was married. Then her worth and very happiness was to be measured solely by the match she made.

  It was Wei-wei’s own fault for reading maudlin poetry. She missed her family and Chang’an. And she missed Gao every day. She had been correct about the strength of her memory or maybe she was too stubborn to let herself forget.

  Wei-wei rose to return to the convent. Maybe she would see if one of the sisters wanted to explore one of the mountain trails with her. They could collect wild yams for dinner and she could expend some of her pent-up energy. The nuns distinctly did not like it when she paced within the grounds.

  As she started down the path, she saw a stranger coming in the opposite direction. It was a man, which was a rare sight. Over the last month, there had been occasional visitors and pilgrims, even one woman who’d been recently widowed who came to stay at the convent. Those who came to this nook of the mountain were usually women.

  The stranger came closer, and she saw that he was in uniform with a dark hanfu robe and black cap. Something about his gait seemed so familiar. When he came even closer, she could see that he wasn’t a stranger. It was Gao. Gao looking more serious and austere than she remembered him, but still him.

  His expression intensified when he saw her, and he lengthened his stride to climb up the path. Her heart flooded with emotion as she fell into his arms. He felt so solid and warm and there as she pressed close to him.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” she said, radiating with joy. And then, “Why are you disguised as a constable?”

  It didn’t take long for Wei-wei to retrieve her belongings from the convent and to say her farewells. The journey down the mountain trail had to be by foot. Wei-wei took the lead, moving with confidence down the slope while she chattered away.

  This was the Wei-wei he remembered. She was full of stories and questions, wanting to know what was the news from Chang’an. Where had he gone, what had happened to him.

  He loved hearing her voice again. Wei-wei laughed when he retold the story of how Li Chen had come to offer him a job and the sound resonated through every part of him like the purest of music.

  Wei-wei appeared radiant in the clean mountain air, with the kiss of mist around them. She was the Wei-wei he’d remembered and thought of night and day, but also different in so many small ways. He could see her more clearly now than he had before. What he saw made his heart beat faster and his body grow warm.

  The last time they’d spoken, he’d tried to commit as many details as she could to memory, thinking it would be his last chance. But now he could see that why the memory would have never been enough. He needed to have her with him to capture all of her, each feature and flaw. He wanted to be there to see every moment, every little change as the days went by.

  “How did Huang know I was ready to leave?” she asked, teasing.

  “It wasn’t your brother who sent me to come get you. It was your father.”

  She came to a full stop, eyes widening. “You spoke to my father?”

  “I spoke to your father.”

  Wei-wei bit down on her lower lip. He could see the questions flashing in her eyes. Her hair was pulled up, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her throat as well as the delicate area at the back of her neck. The urge to kiss her there came to him unexpectedly, like a clap of thunder on a clear day. He was aroused by the thought alone. His mouth against bare skin.

  “What did Father say?” she asked.

  “That he expected me to return you home safely.”

  Not in so many words, but that had to have been Lord Bai’s intent. This was a test. He was to protect Wei-wei, escort Lord Bai’s precious daughter home as a gentleman would. There was nothing in the world that could make Gao into a gentleman, but he could do this one thing. The problem was as soon as he dared to ask Wei-wei’s father for permission to marry her, his head seemed to have broken all walls and lifted all boundaries. He wanted her more than he ever had. More than he wanted anything.

  He could say it was love, and it was. But he would also honestly have to say it was lust.

  “What else did he say?”

  “Not much.”

  Gao hadn’t told her yet that he’d asked to marry her. Her father hadn’t said yes.

  But he didn’t say no.

  “Well, did you talk about anything else?” she pressed, unsatisfied.

  “You should walk faster,” he replied, moving past her. “We need to get down to the foothills before dark.”

  “Did you come to him?” Her footsteps quickened to catch up to him. “Or did he come to you?”

  “Quickly. Before dark,” he reminded, increasing his pace down the mountain.

  The faster he could get Wei-wei home safely, untouched, the faster he and her father could continue their conversation. And he could finally have his answer.

  The horses had been stabled at a roadside inn at the foothills of the mountain. Gao had also paid for two rooms there where they would sleep for the night.

  They shared a small meal in the common room as night fell. Wei-wei sat across from Gao, and she couldn’t stop looking at him. So much of him was the same, yet different. Sun-darkened skin and loose-limbed confidence. His angular features didn’t seem as stark to her now. Had familiarity softened her eyes? His spare, rawboned look had refined somewhat into a lean virility that took her breath away.

  She’d dreamed of him so often while they were apart. If she blinked now, would he disappear?

  “You look so different in the uniform,” she said.

  “Less frightening?”

  She smiled. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Li said the clothes would keep bandits away. I’m afraid they’ll have the opposite effect.”

  Subtle changes aside, Gao had the same relaxed, yet watchful posture as he scrutinized his surroundings with hawkish eyes. No one would ever mistake him as harmless.

  “You changed your fate,” she marveled. “Like you said you would.”

  He started to say something, but stopped himself. His expression as inscrutable.

  Here they were. She was still dressed in the gray robes of the convent while Gao was in uniform. Neither one of them looking like themselves.

  The innkeeper brought two bowls of bone broth with greens and dumplings to set before them. Wei-wei’s mouth watered at the fragrant steam rising from the soup. She was excited to taste something that wasn’t radish.

  “I aske
d your father if he would allow for us to be married,” Gao revealed right as she spooned a dumpling into her mouth.

  She froze, staring at him. He looked serious.

  His fingers curled over the edge of the table. “I was told we would discuss it further once you returned.”

  The dumpling was lodged in her mouth. She bit down, chewed and swallowed, all the while staring at him in disbelief.

  “If you’ll have me,” he added, his voice cracking. His eyes were opaque as he watched her reaction.

  She was too stunned to answer. She didn’t know if she was supposed to answer or if she could answer. The decision belonged to her father.

  “It’s good that you asked Father,” she said finally.

  He nodded in agreement. “I brought some of your things from home for you,” he continued after a pause.

  “Thank you.”

  “If we start out early tomorrow, we should be back in the capital in three days’ time.”

  “Good.”

  Something had gone wrong, but she couldn’t place it.

  Wei-wei finished her soup without tasting a single mouthful. Across from her, Gao didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. They retired to their rooms once supper was done. It wasn’t a large inn and they were situated in adjacent chambers. Gao waited until she was inside her room before heading to his.

  Her room was tidy and serviceable with a sleeping mat rolled up in the corner. A satchel with her belongings had been place inside the door just as Gao had mentioned. The first thing she did was change out of her pigeon gray robes into night clothes, trading the feel of rough hemp against her skin for the smooth feel of silk.

  She unrolled the sleeping mat and then laid out her hanfu robe beside it. The silk was pale blue like a clear sky, and embroidered with a cloud pattern. It had been a month since she’d worn anything so elaborate. She’d brought few luxuries to the convent besides her books and ink brushes. Even having the few personal items in the room felt extravagant.