Thorn of the Night Blossoms

by J C Kang

  Here was a chance for her and Lilian to show they could do more than trawl for information from sated men. She’d added her own missive. Lilian wants reassignment. Let her prove herself. A hit.

  “I’m going out.” She waved with a smile, as the Florets were wont to do when the Blossoms, Gardener, or Florist weren’t around.

  Outside of the gaudy double doors, painted with half the emblem of a chrysanthemum on each side, Jie took a deep breath of the fresh air. The entrance faced south, an auspicious position, and up to the southwest, the Iridescent Moon hung in its reliable spot in the sky, waning toward a faint third crescent. Almost ten o’clock.

  She crossed the courtyard and bowed to Master Deng at the front gate, albeit with less grace than any other girl who’d spent at least a year in the Floating World.

  The guard returned her greeting with a nod. “Where are you off to?”

  “I’m getting a dress altered.” Jie smiled at him. Though Seedlings weren’t allowed out by themselves, Florets who’d earned their houses’ trust enjoyed freedom between chores and lessons. Jie’s comings and goings might seem random to Deng, or any other casual observer, but coded poems known by every Black Lotus initiate and adept set a schedule of meeting times and locations.

  The Floating World bustled at night with a myriad of colors and scents, but quieted by dawn, and turned into a ghost town by mid-morning. As she strolled down the narrow, stone-paved streets, a few men-at-arms nodded in greeting from the ornate brothel gates. A troupe manager stood under a theater’s steeply pitched roofs and red banners and waved at her.

  She returned each greeting with a polite bow appropriate for a Floret, even as her eyes assessed changes from the day before: what scent of incense burned in the Gold Orchid Shrine, the cost of opium in the dens, or the odds at the mahjong parlors.

  All the buildings were packed in close, even tighter than before the fire ravaged most of the district twenty years ago. In the rush to rebuild and reap profits, nobody cared that it might happen again—save for the investors in the Chrysanthemum Pavilion and Peony Garden, who’d ensured there was plenty of space between the mansion and the walls.

  Jie snorted. To think, somewhere over the years, no matter how much she’d wanted to leave, this tinder box had become home. The Floating World, named because it was where a man’s dreams took flight, provided all kinds of entertainment at any budget. For Lilian, that meant letting wealthy men use her body. Maybe Jie would share the same fate, if the clan didn’t deem her skilled enough for another assignment.

  The heady scent of lotus incense beckoned. Turning down a secondary road, Jie paused at the Lotus Shrine, consecrated by Daoist priests long ago as a symbol for sexuality. Its lacquered black tiles, curving to give the squat, open structure the look of a lotus flower in bloom, looked dull in the morning sun. That meant a clan courier had not yet picked up messages and cleaned off a night’s worth of smoke ash. A stele with a lantern at its crest rose up behind the flower, oftentimes mistaken as a symbol of male virility. Visible from anywhere in the Floating World, the lantern only lit up in a clan emergency.

  With her back to Jie, a Floret in a blue dress stood with her head bowed before an ornate box which supposedly held the solid tear of the Blue Moon Goddess. She clapped once and wafted the incense smoke toward her face, in hopes of inviting the arrival of Heaven’s Dew.

  Jie suppressed a snort. While the rest of the realm recognized the Blue Moon as the Eye of Guanyin, Goddess of Fertility, the Daoists had their own ideas of immortality and sexuality. Tonight, lascivious men would visit and pray for an epic night in the Floating World. On occasion, Blossoms whose herbal contraception failed them would leave unwanted babies here, too, never knowing they would end up working for the Black Lotus Clan.

  Finished with her prayer, the Floret turned around. She met Jie’s gaze and bowed her head with well-trained grace.

  Returning the bow with much less refinement, Jie approached the slat-top donation box. Using sleight of hand, she tossed one of her extra coppers and Lilian’s message tube in. They clinked to the bottom, joining the coins and ingots that would help fund clan operations, as well as messages from clan sisters embedded in the other houses. She clapped her hands together and bowed her head. If anyone happened to pass by, they’d just assume they’d seen a Floret praying for her monthly cycles to begin, and not a mythical Black Lotus Fist delivering a message.

  Satisfied, she continued on her way to the meeting of clan girls. She passed through a grove of cherry trees, where folded sheets of paper were tied into knots around branches, competing with the blooms for space. While most of the notes involved prayers for good health or a spectacular night, the one Jie snagged was folded in such a way that it would tear apart in untrained hands, and contained instructions from the clan. She stuffed it into her sleeve’s inner pocket.

  A few blocks later, a short, thin man in a gentleman’s robe stumbled out of the Jade Teahouse. He hadn’t enjoyed the establishment’s renowned teas, if the reek of alcohol and his wobbling feet were any indication. The burly, scowling doorman with crossed arms added yet more evidence. What had a drunkard been doing in the teahouse, at this hour?

  He shook his fist at the guard and shouted a few expletives at the closing door. With no response forthcoming, he turned around and looked up and down the street. His gaze fell on her.

  Feigning demureness like a good Blossom, Jie shuffled along.

  The weight of the man’s stare fell on her back, as heavy as his approaching footsteps.

  The hairs on the back of Jie’s neck stood on end. Nobody ever attacked a Blossom in the Floating World. It just didn’t happen. The district’s enforcers, while well-dressed and polite, could inflict a lot of pain on a man who dared lay a finger on a nonconsenting employee. The unspoken threat of retribution made the Floating World the safest place in the capital, save for the Imperial Palace.

  Woe be to this fool for targeting Jie, of all people. She stopped, turned, and bowed. “May I help you, kind sir?”

  He leered at her, eyes drinking her up. It might’ve been threatening if he weren’t so small, or if Jie didn’t know a thousand different ways to defend herself. A feral grin contorted his lips.

  From dusk to dawn, eyes watched from all over, and a member of the Floating World enjoyed the protection of community vigilance. From mid-morning to early afternoon, however, most denizens were asleep. A scream might bring people to her rescue, but by the time they got there, it would be too late.

  Her cover would be blown, city authorities—who usually left the Floating World to its own devices, as long as the businesses paid taxes to the throne—would be called in, and she’d have to explain how a waif of a girl had incapacitated a man.

  He’d have to be taken care of quietly, in a secluded place. Which happened to be her specialty.

  Just choke him out, apply some yinhua flower essence, and he’d wake up never remembering he’d seen her. Though if he’d targeted her, he’d probably assault a defenseless Blossom in the future. Maybe it’d be better to get rid of him for good. That meant calling in a clan Cleaner to dispose of the body, however, before the aforementioned authorities investigated.

  Feigning fear, Jie backed up. She modulated her voice into a tremble. “Please sir, I’m just a Floret. Please don’t hurt me.”

  He advanced, claiming the ground between them.

  Pretending her skirts slowed her down, she turned and ran just fast enough to stay ahead of him. After all, if he gave up the chase, he might harm a lone Floret or Seedling running errands.

  With a glance over her shoulder, she put on a burst of speed and ducked into the narrow, south-north alley between the red-roofed shrine of the Money God and the orange-tiled shrine of the Fox Spirit. A few paces in, she pulled out her bladed hairpin and clenched it between her teeth. The narrow gap allowed her to pop-vault between the tall buildings that obscured the morning sun.

  Stopping twelve feet up, she shot her arms and legs out and
suspended herself horizontally between the two walls. No one ever looked up; now all she had to do was wait.

  And wait.

  Her arms and legs started to ache. Had he given up? Or lost her in his drunken haze? She took in the scents and sounds.

  Quiet. Birds chirped.

  His alcohol stench drifted in from the head of the alley. Surely he couldn’t be so dense as to wait there: had she been running, she could have reached the other side. Then again, who knew what thoughts ran through an alcohol-muddled brain?

  There were no man-shaped shadows at the intersection either, so he must be hiding around the corner of the western shrine’s wall. Had he thought of that himself, or was it by chance? Though, unless he’d crossed the mouth of the alley when she started her ascent, she would’ve seen him. Her ears would’ve picked up his breathing.

  Breaths! Shallow inhalations came from the far end of the alley. Then, a click.

  She craned down and looked.

  A crossbow bolt sped toward her.

  She dropped as it zipped by, zigzagging between the walls, down to the pavestones. She landed in a crouch. A hooded man wearing the garb of a brothel enforcer stood at the far end of the alley, cocking a repeating crossbow. His steady stance spoke of fighting experience, likely in some foreign war where kings hired Hua mercenaries. Without aiming, he sprayed three bolts in tight arc.

  The narrowness of the alley and near-impossible accuracy of the shots left no room to dodge more than one. She turned to present the side of her body, and the first brushed by her ear. She caught the second, then threw her back against the wall to avoid the third.

  Why hadn’t he shot another—

  The drunkard—clearly not drunk—turned into the alley, a knife already coming down in a quick stab.

  Crossbowman on one side, hired blade on the other. Jie ducked under the knife and slid feet-first between his legs. Spinning, she hooked his shin in the crook of her elbow and threaded her legs up and around his. Now inverted, she locked her ankles at his hip and arched back. His forward momentum dislocated his knee as he fell.

  He screamed as his face hit the dirt.

  Two seconds. She might have two seconds at most before the crossbowman came up and shot her in the face, point-blank, and she was still struggling with the first attacker.

  Fighting through his pain, the knifeman somehow rolled over. She released him, lest he get the bright idea of slashing her Achilles tendon. Before she could get away, he was straddling her, his light weight still crushing the air out of her.

  He stabbed down, but she caught his wrist in both hands. He leaned in, and her arms shook, already tired from laying her own ambush.

  “Bitch.” His lip curled into a sneer.

  Chapter 3

  Pinned beneath a man who’d tricked her into thinking he was a stupid drunkard looking for easy prey, Jie struggled to keep his knife out of her eye. Any second now, her trembling arms would—

  His head snapped back. Blood sprayed. His muscles went slack, and Jie redirected his knife to the ground as he crumpled on top of her. His mass stifled her breath, and she struggled just to lift her head out from under him and spot the crossbowman a dozen paces away.

  He looked from her to the space behind her. Though a mask hid his expression, his posture screamed of confusion. Had he shot his comrade? The crossbow trigger hadn’t clicked again, had it? He turned and ran.

  Closing her eyes and blowing out a breath, Jie let her head drop back down. The Floating World’s twenty-year track record for clan Sister safety had almost come to an end…

  “Are you all right, my sweet?” said a female voice.

  Jie’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at the source. Dressed in a simple green dress, Lilian knelt over her, her honeysuckle perfume heavy, familiar, and comforting.

  What? Jie squirmed out from beneath her assailant. Her gaze flicked from Lilian to him.

  A throwing spike was lodged in his eye, and he had bled all over her.

  “You saved me.” Jie nodded in appreciation. “That might be the best throw you’ve ever made.”

  Lilian gave a hesitant, utterly adorable bob of her head. “I never imagined you would need me to save you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Coincidence.” She smiled and extended a hand. “I was on my way to the gathering when I saw this man waiting on the street, with that knife.”

  Taking the proffered hand, Jie climbed to her feet and studied the body. Of course, there was nothing to identify him. Nothing clung under his nails, and his shoes showed no telltale clues. He’d spilled some strong rice wine onto his clothes and used it to rinse his mouth. Still, a trace of sesame-ginger marinade lingered there.

  She looked up. “He knew who I was and where I would be.”

  “Impossible.” Lilian shook her head. “The only ones who know our identities are other clan members.”

  Jie knelt down and checked him for other weapons. “He was waiting. He lulled me into complacency by acting like a drunk merely picking a target of opportunity.”

  Lilian’s porcelain complexion blanched even more. “That means the crossbowman…”

  “Knows about me, as well.” Jie nodded. “And now also you, if they didn’t already.”

  Still acting like a Night Blossom, Lilian covered her gasp with a delicate hand. With her other hand, though, she presented four crossbow bolts. “We need to track the crossbowman down.”

  “We also need to warn the others, and get word to the clan to bring a Cleaner to take care of this mess.”

  “I’ll inform the clan.” Lilian looked at the body and shuddered. Then she squared her shoulders and yanked her throwing spike from the man’s face. She looked more like a Black Fist that way.

  An intriguing mix of admiration and arousal shot up Jie’s spine. She gave a satisfied nod. “Before you go, let me see what instructions they left for us.” She withdrew the message she’d picked from the grove of trees and carefully unfolded it.

  Coming up behind her, Lilian rested her chin on Jie’s shoulder, her honeysuckle scent soothing after Jie’s brush with death. Together, they read.

  Chatter in the North of a hit on Lord Ting. He is key to stability to there. He must be protected.

  Which meant that in all likelihood, the clan wouldn’t reassign Lilian, Lord Ting’s favorite. Jie looked over her shoulder.

  Lilian’s lips formed a tight line for a split second. “I didn’t expect any other outcome.”

  “I’ll think of something.” Jie turned and leaned in so their foreheads touched. “Now, we need to hurry. I’ll continue to the meeting. You go to the safehouse and bring more assets back to the silk market in an hour.”

  “As you command, Elder Sister.” Lilian saluted with a fist in her palm, turned, and ran.

  Jie strode to where the crossbowman had been and sniffed for any lingering smells. He’d eaten the same marinade as the dead man, and also washed his mouth out with alcohol. These men were real soldiers, and had specifically prepared to kill her.

  It might be enough to go on. If only she could be in two places at once; then she would be able to track the crossbowman before the scent trail went cold. Still, the other girls’ safety took priority, and Jie had already wasted enough time. She took off toward the meeting place, shuffling in a nominally ladylike fashion on the streets, and dashing through alleys.

  A block away from the opera house, the site of today’s gathering, she stopped and took in her surroundings. Like the rest of the Floating World at this hour, it was quiet, with only the three-story wooden structure’s banners fluttering in the light breeze. Then again, if these assassins had been prepared for her, they might know how to breach the theater. An image of all the girls, captured or dead, appeared unbidden in her mind. She stepped into the lookout’s line of sight, flashed a hand signal, and ducked back. She peeked around the corner.

  A mirror flashed twice in the sun. All clear.

  At least on the front end. Jie
extended her hands and signed, Extra vigilance. Possible security breach.

  The mirror blinked twice again in acknowledgement.

  Somewhat relieved, Jie crept through another alley that came up behind the opera house. The lookout was hidden in the usual spot, and as in front, flashed the sign that everything was all right. With no other signs of abnormal activity, she slipped in through the service door. As always, a mess of costumes and make-up paints and brushes cluttered the hallways and dressing rooms. Several dresses hung from racks, all carrying the various familiar smells of Black Lotus sisters.

  Voices and thumps grew louder as she approached the stage from the back. Still nothing out of the ordinary. She let out a breath and peeked in.

  Twenty-six girls, ranging in age from eight to thirty-two, were practicing Black Fist techniques in black stealth suits. Some were engaged in knife duels, while others used blindfolds to maneuver through obstacles. One crossed a narrow wooden beam while dancing through a sword form. Even in the Floating World, they met to keep their weapons, stealth, and memory skills sharp.

  She hadn’t needed to worry about their safety: with their knowledge of the opera house’s layout, and a predetermined emergency plan that made use of hiding places and bottlenecks, an attacker would be a fool to assail the location, even if they brought a thousand men.

  The only danger would be if someone wanted to burn it down—but the flames would consume most of the Floating World, as the clan training accident had, twenty years ago. Today, only her own Chrysanthemum Pavilion and the rival Peony Garden would survive, because of the space between the mansions and their walls.

  That fire was never far from Jie’s mind, since it had claimed all the clan’s operatives in the entertainment district, including the legendary Steel Orchids. Renowned for their elegance and guile, they’d sniffed out conspiracies, rooted out traitors, and ended a rebellion before it started.

  All the girls here now were heirs to that legacy, and Jie was their leader. Regardless of age or experience, they shared two things in common: pretty faces and Black Fist training. Full-fledged Blossoms brought Seedlings who were not yet allowed to leave their respective houses on their own. Jie’s chest filled with pride as she watched. She’d taught many of them at the temple, and still coached them now.