by Jeannie Lin
She remembered that forsaken hallway from her one night in captivity. There were no windows and the floors were hard and unforgiving, made of packed dirt. The cells were barely larger than a closet. She had been cold and hungry and alone in the dark except for Wu Kaifeng who remained to await her confession.
The constable directed her past the corridor to another door that she recognized. The interrogation room.
Mingyu stopped cold. Her feet refused to move farther while her heart pounded as if it would punch through her chest. It was a mistake to go to him. She had been locked inside that room with Wu once before. What made her think he was any more forgiving now?
Wu paused with his hand against the wooden frame. His face was turned away, but tension gathered in his shoulders before he took a step back. Without a word, he continued on.
A moment later, she found herself in a more welcoming room lined with shelves and cabinets. A desk stood near the window and Wu sat her down on a stool while he gathered a writing box and scroll.
“Am I under arrest?” she asked.
Instead of answering, Wu positioned himself behind the desk facing her. Anyone else would have given her some indication of what was to come, either reassure or threaten her, but Wu Kaifeng did neither. He took his time grinding the ink stick down and mixing it with water before unrolling the scroll.
“When did you go to see General Deng?” he began.
“This morning. I left the Lotus immediately after the gong for the Snake Hour sounded.”
“He was expecting you?”
“Yes.”
After setting a stone weight at each corner of the paper, Wu lifted the brush and began recording her answers.
“Payment was sent to Madame Sun yesterday,” she continued. “The instructions in his letter were very clear when I was to arrive. I was to be his companion exclusively for the week.”
Wu paused and his fingers tightened momentarily over the brush before continuing. “And you had gone to that same house in the past to see him?”
“He owns the place. General Deng would hold gatherings and private meetings there.”
“Were you invited to these gatherings, as well?”
“One needs entertainment at such affairs.”
She tried to remain as calm as possible, but her throat was painfully dry. These were ordinary questions really, one any lawman might ask. She had expected this when she’d put herself at Wu Kaifeng’s mercy. What she hadn’t expected was how his demeanor had changed toward her. The difference was subtle, but it was there. She’d sensed it when Wu had approached her the other day. The events of the past had created a connection between them that remained unresolved. It was fate. Yuán fèn.
Wu kept his head bent as he transcribed her words onto the paper. His profile was rugged and his expression completely focused. His characters emerged in tight, efficient columns with little space in between them.
The scholar-gentlemen of the North Hamlet worshipped the art of writing. A practitioner’s technique and posture were supposed to reveal his character, how patient and cultured he was. Wu Kaifeng held the writing brush like a barbarian, without any technique or refinement. It was merely a tool in his hands, the same way a shovel or a pick served a peasant laborer.
“Isn’t that task usually performed by a clerk?” She indicated the scroll with a nod of her head.
“My writing should be passable.”
“Where did you study?”
“My father taught me.” He paused for an uncomfortable space of time. “My foster father,” he amended.
“Was he a constable, as well?”
“A physician.”
Mingyu knew she was stalling. It made her feel better to have him talking. Wu seemed quite civil in conversation. It was when he remained deathly quiet that he seemed to be judging her.
“You didn’t keep such meticulous records the first time we conversed,” she ventured.
“You weren’t saying very much.”
His hand continued inking the report onto the paper while they spoke.
“You were being unpleasant,” she reminded him.
“It was my duty.”
“To be unpleasant?”
Mingyu thought she caught the corners of his mouth tightening and her pulse jumped. It was dangerous for her to taunt him. Like throwing stones at a tiger in a bamboo cage.
But something had happened the last time they were here. Something that she had never told anyone because she couldn’t understand it herself. It had weighed heavily on her mind before seeking Wu out that morning.
“I have many other tasks to see to. If we could continue,” he said stiffly. She wasn’t the only one affected by their exchange. “When was the last time Deng summoned you?”
“Over a year ago. General Deng hasn’t returned to the city since before Emperor Xuānzong took the throne.”
“Not until now.”
“Not until now,” she echoed.
He met her eyes directly. “I recall you were shameless about using Deng’s name for your own purposes while he was away.”
If Wu was waiting for her to flinch, then he would be disappointed. “Sometimes exploiting a man’s power is the only influence a woman can wield.”
His gaze narrowed on her before moving on to more additional questions.
“What happened when you arrived at the house?”
“There was no one at the gate. I went inside and saw...saw exactly what you saw.” She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as a wave of nausea churned her stomach. “There was blood everywhere.”
“Did you approach the body or get close to him in any way?”
She shook her head. “I ran out into the street and found someone to fetch you.”
“Deng was no longer alive when you came into the room?”
“No.”
“And there was no one else in the house. You didn’t see or hear anyone?”
She recalled this approach from the last interrogation. Wu Kaifeng would ask every question two or three different ways, looking for inconsistencies in her answers.
“There was no one,” she said evenly.
He was writing again, the report flowing neatly from the tip of his brush. From a quick glance, he was recording her words exactly as she spoke them without embellishment or interpretation. When he looked up again, his gaze pierced her.
“Did you kill the general?”
Mingyu stared at him, startled by his bluntness. “Do you think I could have cut a man’s head off?”
“No.”
She started to relax, but it was too soon.
“Not personally,” Wu amended. “But you could have had it done. You have a way of getting others to do your bidding, Lady Mingyu. Of wielding influence, as you called it.”
“Then why would I want to be rid of General Deng? I have everything to lose and nothing to gain from his death.”
“Sometimes there is no reason.”
Some unnamable emotion flickered in his eyes, but she was unable to catch it. Mingyu was skilled at reading a man’s desires. Not only when it came to lust or sensual pleasure, but other desires, as well. The desire for notoriety, for respect, for achievement. The pleasure quarter was there to feed into all of them. Maybe she couldn’t read Wu Kaifeng because he had no desires. He was as dark and fathomless inside as on the outside.
“I am telling the truth,” she insisted as calmly as she could. “Remember that I was the one who came to you.”
“As you did last time. You are a strategist, Lady Mingyu. You like to control the board.”
There was no denying that. Better to know the positions on the battlefield, even if it put her at the mercy of someone as heartless as Wu Kaifeng. Fighting blind was the worst disadvantag
e of all.
“Why come to me?” he demanded. “Why not one of your many protectors? You despise me, Lady Mingyu.”
She was taken aback. “I don’t despise you.”
It was a horrible mistake going to Wu. He was suspicious of everything and everyone. She should have known he would tear her apart, just like this, but she’d been scared and alone.
“If you were so frightened, why did you wait for me in that house?” he challenged. “Weren’t you afraid the murderer could have still been nearby?”
“You were the only person I knew I could trust.”
Mingyu regretted the confession as soon as she’d made it. He reared up and leaned onto the writing table to loom over her.
“What game are you playing?” His quiet tone held a warning.
Instinctively, Mingyu shrank back. “There is no game.”
“I’m the last man you should trust. You and I both know why.”
She had no choice but to lay out all the pieces between them, which meant uncovering the past. The first time Wu had interrogated her, he’d taken out six bamboo sticks and laced them between her fingers. He’d held her hand still in his own as he completed the task, a gesture that was grotesquely intimate.
Each time she’d refused to answer, he would tighten the string around the sticks, crushing her knuckles against the bamboo. Mingyu had tried to bite her tongue, to refuse to beg, but it had been useless.
The entire process had been conducted with cold precision. Wu Kaifeng watched her suffer without a hint of emotion on his face, but then the pain stopped without explanation. The questioning came to an abrupt halt, as well.
“Why did you spare me that night?” she asked him now.
For the first time, Wu was the one to look away. “You were not going to reveal anything, even under torture.”
Mingyu hadn’t been so certain of it. Tears had flooded her eyes while her screams echoed off the walls of the barren cell.
Wu Kaifeng was the man who had done that to her. No one came to her defense. For all the compliments and praise that scholars bestowed upon her, she was still nothing more than a diversion. Admired in passing fashion like the brightness of a full moon, beautiful in one moment, easily forgotten in the next.
“I would have never expected you to be the merciful type, Constable.”
“It wasn’t mercy on my part.” He rose to his feet, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes. They were black and unreadable, as always. “You may go now.”
“You aren’t going to put me in chains?”
Wu, perhaps finding the question unnecessary, didn’t answer. Instead, he busied his hands with the writing implements, setting them carefully aside and then lifting the report to make sure the ink had dried.
She stood to leave, but stopped at the door. They were separated by the span of the room, giving her space to breathe. Wu’s presence was too overwhelming when he was beside her.
“I hated you for a long time, Constable. I hated you for rendering me helpless. For seeing me at my most vulnerable.”
“I took no pleasure in it,” he assured her.
“This is far from over, isn’t it?”
“There will be an imperial inquiry. Someone must be punished for this crime.”
Mingyu knew she was in danger from the moment she’d stepped into the study to see Deng’s corpse waiting for her. She had been linked to one murder in the past and here was another.
Conspiracy, the gossipers would declare. The general’s lover lured him to a secret tryst where he was then assassinated.
“You asked me why I summoned you and what game I was trying to play. It is a game,” she admitted. “I don’t trust you because you are kindhearted and honorable, Constable Wu. I trust you because you don’t care who Deng Zhi is or how vast his forces are. You don’t care who I am, which means you don’t care that a lowly courtesan was found with her dead and high-ranking lover. Or that her life means nothing to the magistrate or his superiors. All you care about is finding the truth.”
“If you’re looking for protection, you need someone more powerful than I,” he warned her.
Her chest squeezed tight. “There is no one else.”
“That is unfortunate.”
He regarded her impassively, his face a mask. If there was any hint of kindness earlier, it was long gone. She pushed the door open, eager to escape. Part of her envied Wu Kaifeng and his unyielding approach. It must be freeing to walk through this world and feel nothing.
CHAPTER FIVE
GENERAL DENG’S BODY was brought to the yamen and laid out on a long table in one of the storerooms. His embroidered robe and jade belt had been carefully removed and set aside while the corpse, or what remained of it, was washed and the neck bound with cloth. The doors and windows were propped open for additional light while Kaifeng created a charcoal sketch of the body. He observed the tone and rigidity of the muscles, the condition of the hands and feet, the appearance of the skin. Each detail was noted meticulously beside the drawings.
“Signs of poisoning can be detected in the skin beneath the nails as well as the swelling of the tongue and discoloration in the eyes,” Old Guo, his foster father, had told him.
The tongue and eyes weren’t available for inspection, but the nails were. They appeared a normal pallor given a person who had been dead for half the day.
There were no marks on the hands or arms, indicating that the general hadn’t tried to defend himself. It was possible Deng had been drugged or otherwise distracted. Or he was caught unaware, which meant he knew and trusted his killer.
Kaifeng completed a set of sketches of the corpse from different angles. Magistrate Li arrived just as he prepared to unwind the bandages at the neck.
Li Yen stopped short at the side of the long table, staring down at the empty space where there should have been a head. The young magistrate swallowed with some difficulty and fought to regain his composure.
“This is believed to be General Deng Zhi,” Kaifeng reported.
“The military governor of Shannanxi circuit,” Li muttered.
“I would have notified you sooner, but you weren’t at the tribunal this morning.”
“I was called away on an official matter,” he said with an impatient wave. “What is the progress so far?”
“The body was found at his private residence in the Chongren ward. I have a team of our constables searching the surrounding area to hunt for the head as well as possible suspects. A message has been sent to the Deng family mansion. I plan to question the household this afternoon.”
Li shook his head regretfully. “Constable Wu, there are certain formalities that should—no, that must be observed when a man of this stature is involved.”
“Time is of the utmost importance.”
“I understand, but Deng Zhi was a military official of the first rank. We can’t intrude upon his family without warning. And consider the rumors that will sprout up. This must be handled with some finesse.”
“Witnesses and anyone involved must be questioned immediately. You know this.”
Not only was it the magistrate’s duty to act swiftly, it was also when they were most likely to meet with success.
“We will certainly question everyone,” Li agreed. “But with our office under scrutiny, we must proceed carefully and show proper respect. I shall personally send out the proper condolences to the family and arrange a meeting at an appropriate time. This news will reach the Emperor’s ears, if it hasn’t already.”
Kaifeng didn’t like it at all, but Magistrate Li was his superior. He stared down at the lifeless figure. It cared nothing for respect or propriety. A body was a body. Upon death, putrefaction and decay set in. Time washed away all wrongs.
“I want to be present at the questioning.”
“That can be arranged, but you must be careful of what you say, Wu.”
“I will make an effort.”
With that, Kaifeng returned his attention to the examination of the corpse.
The body hadn’t yet grown stiff when Kaifeng arrived, which meant that the killing blow had been dealt not too long before. Kaifeng was able to have the body transported before the limbs locked tight.
He started unwrapping the cloth bundled around the neck when he realized that Li Yen was still beside him, looking on with morbid interest.
The inner layer of wrappings was soaked through with blood. Kaifeng pulled the last of the bandages away to reveal what remained of the neck. A butcher shop stench permeated the storeroom and Li pressed his sleeve over his nose.
“Clean cut,” Kaifeng announced, inspecting the edges of the wound. If he had to guess, he would say with a single blow, but he didn’t like to guess.
“I witnessed the Market Commissioner’s execution earlier this year,” Li murmured. “It was the first time I’d seen a beheading. The first time I sentenced a man to be killed in such a way.”
“The shock will dull with time,” Kaifeng assured, though he wasn’t certain it was true. Some men never hardened to the sight of death. Others, such as himself, were never truly shaken by it.
“I will leave you to the examination,” the magistrate choked out. “We will talk later.”
Li ducked away quickly, the back of his hand pressed over his mouth.
Kaifeng had come to the realization long ago that his responses were not typical. He didn’t seem to react as others did. Death didn’t sicken his stomach or make his muscles seize up in fear. Of all the times he had encountered death, only once had it truly upset him.
Sharpening the charcoal stick, Kaifeng began a sketch showing the wound. He noted the entry point of the blade and the angle of the blow in his journal.
Old Guo had tried to school him on the intricate details of medicine: pressure points, herbal remedies, the balance of qi and the elements. Kaifeng had never grasped the more ephemeral concepts, but certain tangible lessons stayed with him. He knew the anatomy of the body, where the vital organs were located and how to detect a fatal wound. He knew how long specific injuries took to heal, which blows were fatal and what sort of marks they left behind.
