by Jeannie Lin
Tonight the three of them had taken care to dress in complementary colors, knowing they would be seen together. They floated down the lane in pink, yellow and green, a field of flowers.
Mingyu paused to read the signboard over the entrance which listed the establishment as the Golden Flower Tavern.
“Here,” she directed. “And be pleasant. Or at least be well-mannered.”
Ziyi made a face as she moved past. Jing-min merely bowed her head in a nod of obedience as she followed her courtesan-sister inside. The girl was pretty enough, Mingyu thought, but she was entirely too timid by nature.
Though the tavern was crowded, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Ziyi had complained. The proprietor welcomed them with a quick nod and left them to find their own place. Entertainers were good for business.
Seeing that the benches on the ground floor were filled with lower-ranking functionaries, Mingyu directed the girls upstairs where the more private seatings could be found. She was quickly rewarded for their efforts. A group of bureaucrats were enjoying wine in one of the rooms near the stairs. Though none of them recognized her, they seemed amiable.
“Such a serious and important discussion,” Mingyu remarked upon browsing by. “This seems to be an ambitious lot.”
There was a chorus of good-natured remarks and greetings.
“All except for...this one.” She singled out the one who seemed the most talkative of the group, causing the others to burst into laughter.
“She knows you, fool.”
“All beautiful women know me,” the target retorted, playing along wonderfully.
From there, it was easy to insinuate themselves. Mingyu took the liberty of pouring a round of drinks while the men lifted their cups eagerly. Ziyi and Jing-min joined in to accommodate everyone.
“My younger sister is practicing a new song. Perhaps the gentlemen would like to hear it?” Mingyu suggested.
The men were all in agreement.
“I will try my best,” Jing-min replied softly. Sometimes being shy worked out well as the men hushed around her and she became the center of attention.
The sounds of the pipa took over and the mood became immediately festive. Mingyu’s presence was no longer needed to ease the way and she managed to disengage and retreat into the hall.
Perhaps she could have a moment to herself before exploring the rest of the tavern. Madame Sun would expect her to search out any noteworthy names who happened to be there that evening and at least offer a greeting.
At the end far end of the corridor, Mingyu did encounter a familiar face, though whether or not his name was noteworthy could be debated. Wu Kaifeng sat with Magistrate Li at a table in the corner. The two of them were deep in conversation and looked more like peers engaged in a serious discussion rather than a superior speaking to his underling.
Just as she meant to retreat in the other direction, Wu looked up. His eyes locked onto her and his gaze narrowed as he considered her unexpected appearance. To turn away now would be admitting she found him unsettling, so Mingyu stood her ground. Unfortunately, this left her staring rather boldly at him. Magistrate Li continued speaking, oblivious that his constable’s attention was elsewhere. Her pulse skipped as Wu Kaifeng stood and started toward her.
His long and lean form filled the corridor. By the time he arrived before her, her cheeks were flushed with anticipation, but her tone remained cool. Or at least that was her intention.
“Constable Wu.”
“Lady Mingyu.”
She cast a sly glance over his shoulder. “What excuse did you give the magistrate for coming over here?”
He frowned. “No excuse. I told him you looked like you had something to say to me.”
“I don’t have anything in particular.”
“I was mistaken, then.”
With a short bow, he turned to go and she had to catch his arm to stop him. “Must everything be so exact with you?” she said with a huff.
Wu tensed beneath her hand and he regarded her with surprise. Mingyu let her fingers slip away from his arm, but there was no erasing the touch or how her heart was suddenly pounding.
It was a simple courtesan’s game, moving in close, establishing a false familiarity. This was the first time she had initiated any contact with Wu Kaifeng, yet she was the one affected. The faint warmth in her cheeks was now a heat that made her entire face burn.
“Come with me, Constable.” With a laugh, she turned toward the stairs. “Perhaps we should talk, after all.”
Mingyu could hear his footsteps behind her despite the music floating through the hallway, despite the buzz of conversation in the tavern. All sights and sounds receded in the wake of her awareness of him.
She descended the stairs and headed toward the kitchen in the back. She didn’t allow herself the reassurance of looking back, but she knew Wu was still following her. The cool night air surrounded her as she slipped through the rear door.
“Your conversation with the magistrate appeared quite important,” she began, finally turning to him.
Wu stood just outside the doorway, presenting a striking figure in the lantern light. “I don’t speak unless it is important.”
There might have been a rebuke there, but she didn’t sense one.
“And most of what I say is worthless banter,” she remarked.
“Not entirely worthless.”
He said it more in agreement than denial and Mingyu bit back a smile. Of all the people in this wide city, Constable Wu was the first to make her smile in a long time.
Usually she took such pleasure in the nuances and ambiguity of conversation, but his blatant disregard for politeness was undeniably exciting.
Wu looked about the deserted alleyway where they found themselves. “Are you unable to be seen with me even here?”
“A few lanes from the Pingkang li and no one even knows my face. Don’t mind Madame Sun. She simply likes to be demanding.”
Mingyu moved to his side and they started down the alley at a leisurely pace. Though the stroll couldn’t progress very far, it was pleasant to be headed nowhere for the moment.
They could still hear the muted hum of activity from within the tavern. The truth was, Mingyu preferred it when they were alone together. Then there were no requirements for either of them.
“I didn’t know you entertained at public drinking houses,” he remarked, returning his attention fully to her.
“Several of my courtesan-sisters are still in training. Madame wishes for me to teach them everything I know. Then she can have four girls just like me and be a rich woman.”
“I hear there can be bitter rivalries among women.”
She snorted. “And there aren’t bitter rivalries among men? There’s always a higher mountain, they say.”
“Or someone who feels the need to exert their superiority,” he agreed.
The constable’s openness surprised her, as did the hint of bitterness in his tone. He said nothing more though and the burden was on her to keep the conversation flowing.
“If men didn’t constantly fight for position among one another, my role would be highly diminished,” she mused.
“Your role?”
“I’m wondering whether I should forgive the skepticism I hear in your voice, Constable.”
“I thought a courtesan’s duty was to play music and convince men to imbibe more wine than they would when drinking alone.” He paused to grant her a sideways glance. “And to be beautiful.”
And Mingyu had thought she was immune to compliments. Of course, she wasn’t quite certain that Wu’s statement was a compliment. Maybe that was why her stomach fluttered the way it did.
“A banquet mistress’ task is to promote harmony and balance. She can perform her duties through playing an instrument or conversati
on or sometimes a look given at the right time to the right person.”
They had reached the end of the lane and Mingyu paused to grant him an evocative look to make her point. She thought she saw Wu’s hard mouth break into the faintest of smiles, but it was too dark to be certain.
Passing the time with Constable Wu wasn’t unpleasant at all. Mingyu slowed her step to prolong their return.
“At a gathering, if I find an honored guest is reluctant to speak, I make him comfortable and draw him out,” she continued. “On the other hand, if a guest oversteps his bounds, then I have to put him in his place.”
“A constable’s duty is not nearly so complicated,” Wu replied. “He detains criminals and drags them to the prison house.”
“But that isn’t all you do.”
What little she had seen of Wu’s interaction with the magistrate told her he played a much more important role.
There was a long pause before he spoke. “It seems lately I’m the one who has overstepped his bounds.”
“In what manner?”
Wu chose not to answer. “Did Deng Zhi often wear his sword?” he asked instead.
“His sword—” The sudden shift in his tone startled her.
“Was he usually armed?”
“I...I believe so. General Deng wore his sword in public for appearances.”
“And in private?”
He was the exacting constable once more. Mingyu had to think back. It really had been a long time since she’d last seen the general.
“Rarely for private meetings,” she concluded.
“You told me he was always prepared for danger. Deng Zhi was a soldier and a general.”
“But he was a statesman first. Openly carrying a weapon in certain circumstances would be seen as a sign of fear.”
His expression grew serious as he considered the information. “So Deng did rely heavily on his bodyguards.”
Mingyu had the impression that Wu was no longer truly with her, taking a stroll in the autumn evening. His head was back in the investigation as he pondered suspects and evidence and other grim and unpleasant things.
When they reached the back door of the tavern, the warmth she had felt between them had faded. Perhaps it had never really been there.
She paused at the doorway. Now was the time for some pleasantry; she could thank him for his company or she might confess she had enjoyed their discussion, but none of it rang true at the moment.
“This conversation has been enlightening,” she managed.
“I’m convinced Deng knew his assassin,” he said in return.
Mingyu blinked at him, at a loss. What did one say to that?
“My sisters will be waiting for me,” she excused, turning to go back inside. Wu closed the distance between them and suddenly she found his hand just above hers on the door.
It was clear he’d meant to open it for her, but Wu went still as they were caught in a near embrace. She could hear the deepening of his breath. The sheer physical presence of him surrounded her. Rather than shrinking away, she turned to face him.
Wu retreated a step, but he was still close enough that his head and shoulders blocked out the lantern light, clothing them in darkness. The scent of him drifted to her, a combination of sandalwood and warm, masculine skin that piqued her senses.
Her heart was beating relentlessly now, partly in fear and, it was impossible to deny, partly with pleasure. If he was someone else, if he wasn’t Wu Kaifeng, then she would be in trouble for certain.
“I have no manners,” he apologized, the roughness of his voice stroking over her.
“Well, Constable,” she purred. “Then I shall have to put you in your place.”
CHAPTER NINE
MADAME SUN KEPT Mingyu from attending to guests the next day and allowed thoughtful inquiries about her well-being to build up. By evening the day after, Mingyu finally emerged to hold court in the main parlor of the Lotus Palace.
“You had a crowd of admirers wanting to see you,” Madame boasted. “I had to turn people away.”
The headmistress possessed a talent for creating opportunity. And Mingyu, as always, played her part perfectly. At least she thought she did until Mingyu caught Madame gesturing to her while she was pouring wine for a minister of some department or another. At a reasonable pause in the conversation, she excused herself.
Madame dragged her through the curtain into the hallway. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong, Mother.”
“You’re usually a jewel in a crowded room, outshining everyone. But tonight you’re more like a dull rock. Where’s the light in your eyes?”
“Oh, Mother.” Mingyu affected a pleasant laugh. “Do you expect me to shine for all of the gentlemen in there before determining who is truly worth the effort? And didn’t you arrange this evening so Ziyi might be noticed, as well?”
“Well...”
“Don’t worry, Mother. You’ve taught me well.”
Madame smiled crookedly. “I was worried that my Mingyu was actually heartbroken.”
“Should I act so?” she asked with a crafty look. “It will be ever so endearing.”
“Oh, scholars love a tragedy!” Madame was practically gleeful.
Mingyu peered through the slit in the curtain. There were four callers currently in the room, talking and laughing. Ziyi was smoothing over the conversation in her absence while Little Hong had taken over pouring the wine. Her role was to remain silent and learn from her older courtesan-sisters.
“Many new faces tonight,” Mingyu remarked.
“All distinguished names. You no longer need to attract the young and hopeful. We’ll find you a patron as highly respected as General Deng.”
Mingyu’s stomach sank. “And as generous,” she muttered.
“Well, of course.” A small frown creased Madame’s brow. “There is something wrong.”
Mingyu shook her head. “Everything is fine.”
Breathing deep, she passed once more through the curtain and removed one mask to put on another. Over the years, she had trained and cultivated her image, but the true person Mingyu had learned how to charm was Madame Sun. Tonight even that effort exhausted her.
The only person she never had to put on a show for was Wu Kaifeng. He would be unimpressed with Madame Sun’s schemes upon schemes.
Oddly, Wu hadn’t come by to ask any more questions about Deng’s death. It wasn’t that she was disappointed not to see him. Of course not. Mingyu had just expected Constable Wu would be more persistent.
Perhaps she should consider it a blessing. Mingyu was free from suspicion and needed to see to her future. Madame was right to plan for her security now that the general was gone.
She returned to the parlor at the same time another guest arrived, one with the gray hair of a snow monkey and the wide shoulders of an ox.
“Why so gloomy tonight, my dear?” the burly scholar asked.
“Taizhu! What are you doing here?”
“I was invited due to my illustrious reputation, of course,” he said with his chest puffed out.
Surely Madame didn’t expect Taizhu to show an interest in her. He was nearly sixty and, despite his appointment to the Hanlin Academy, was not wealthy enough by Madame’s standards. He certainly couldn’t afford to redeem her from the Lotus Palace. Taizhu had always been more of an old uncle to her than a suitor.
Mingyu took his arm, which was allowed due to his age and their longtime association. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“You don’t look happy.”
“Conversation is hard for me tonight,” she confessed. “I don’t know why.”
They continued in a low tone that was easily buried beneath the laughter that rang from the sitting area. Ziyi
was doing an admirable job of engaging the attention of the four gentlemen present.
“Ziyi is young.” Mingyu observed how the men hung on her every word. “She can say whatever she wants and they’ll compliment her for her audacity and youthful energy.”
“And you’re a withering old hag at the age of twenty-eight,” the scholar concurred.
She nudged her elbow into his ribs, making him chuckle.
Mingyu was finding it hard to be clever, to be thoughtful, to be witty. These men had come here expecting eloquence and poetry from her, but she would have to disappoint them.
Unable to delay any longer, Mingyu introduced Taizhu to the other officials present who immediately drank to him, a sign of respect for both his rank and age.
“We were discussing earlier what Deng Zhi’s death might mean to the safety of the capital,” one of them began. “As dangerous as the general was, he kept the other tigers away. What is your opinion on this, honored historian?”
“Depressing, depressing.” Taizhu waved the question away like he would a gnat. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard you play, Lady Mingyu. Grace these old ears with a song.”
Mingyu slid him a grateful look and sent Little Hong to fetch her qin.
Deng was equally respected and detested by the scholar-elite who regarded all military leaders with a wary eye. She didn’t need to be constantly reminded of how Deng had fallen out of favor.
“Is there a song the illustrious historian wishes to hear?” Mingyu asked.
“Honored this, illustrious that.” Taizhu waved his titles aside. “Play me the first song that comes to your heart, my lady.”
Little Hong returned holding a wooden case in her arms, which she set down on the low table. Mingyu took over the task of lifting the instrument from the case.
The qin was a stringed zither with a long base. The size of it made it difficult to transport, which was probably why the qin was currently less popular than the pipa in the banquet halls. It was also a harder skill to master.
