by Jeannie Lin
Mingyu laid the base board onto a low table before the group and seated herself behind it. She had studied music since she’d come to the capital, at the age of twelve. After a moment to tune the strings, Mingyu affixed the ivory guards over her fingers and plucked out the first notes.
As the melody filled the room, Mingyu focused her attention inward and enjoyed the hum of music inside of her. The low, vibrating sounds held an inherent weight and sadness within them. The song wasn’t pretty, but it drew one in nonetheless. The individual notes demanded attention. They hung in the air forever so the listener never knew when one would end and the next one would fall. Like raindrops that obeyed no one’s command.
Guests always told her she looked beautiful when she played. As if she were playing just to impress them. But she never played for anyone but herself.
Midway through the song, a sixth gentleman entered the parlor. It was impossible not to notice the hush that fell over the room.
Madame Sun hovered by his side like an eager hummingbird upon discovering a flower. From the depth of her bow and the solicitous way she hung on his every word, Mingyu would say Madame was fawning over him.
The newcomer was notably younger than the rest of the party. The scholars in attendance must have been at least in their forties with Taizhu being the eldest, while this man was close to her in age.
He was well-dressed, his robe dark blue and made of a fine silk brocade. His features were square, his jaw and nose broad. Not beautiful, but a certain kind of handsome. Instead of joining the others, he took a seat at the far side of the room. Madame Sun had Little Hong bring him a pot of tea instead of wine. He raised the first cup to his lips, then leaned back to listen. Then he caught her watching him.
She didn’t look away. Mingyu never looked away. Her hands continued to move over the strings and she took her time before returning her attention to the instrument before her.
Once the song was finished, there was applause, praise, effusive commentary. The new arrival had set his teacup down and was looking away to study a painting of plum blossoms and sparrows on the wall. Two fingers tapped the table absently with disinterest. With overly obvious disinterest.
Ziyi took Mingyu’s place at the center of the gathering, playing the pipa to a much happier tune. The stranger still had not joined the party or introduced himself.
Mingyu bent toward Taizhu. “Do you know who that is?”
The old historian spared a quick glance over his shoulder. “He doesn’t look familiar to me.”
Madame Sun had deliberately set him apart. Clearly the man was waiting for her approach. Mingyu did so as gracefully as she could while Ziyi continued to play.
“My lord, your cup is empty.”
The gentleman glanced up as if he’d been unaware of her approach until that moment. “It is,” he agreed.
He wore no scholar’s cap and his robes, though expensive, did not denote any sort of rank. A merchant, perhaps? He could be aristocracy, but he didn’t seem to possess the careless sense of authority that came with a noble upbringing. His manners were practiced and his control deliberate.
Mingyu knelt opposite him at the low table. With her wrist artfully posed, she pulled her sleeve clear and reached for the teapot to pour. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how he watched her, transfixed. The knot of his throat lifted as he swallowed. Upon the table, the fingers of his left hand curled and uncurled restlessly.
“‘Lonely Orchid,’” he remarked. “The song you were playing.”
She smiled, in part to put him at ease. “I am pleased that you recognized it.”
“It suits you.”
“How unfortunate. It’s not a happy song.”
“You have sad eyes,” he observed. “Even when you smile, there is always sadness beneath it.”
The boldness of his statement took her aback. “I hardly know if that’s a compliment or not.”
“I’ve always thought that was why men became so fascinated with you. A woman who is merely beautiful is commonplace. A woman with a mystery hidden deep inside can keep a man captivated forever.”
He kept his gaze fixed squarely on her as he spoke. The man acted as if he knew her, but his familiarity left her uneasy.
“Have we met before, my lord?”
“I used to frequent the North Hamlet in my younger days like so many examination candidates,” he confessed. “Once I even drank at the Lotus Palace.”
“Then we happily welcome you back.”
“Do you really?” His eyebrows were black and well defined. He raised them pointedly at her.
The fine hairs rose on the back of her neck. There was something decidedly off balance about this exchange. The man was testing her, but for what purpose?
“If the gentleman will allow me to know his name.”
“If the lady would honor me by having a cup of tea with me.” It was more command than invitation. No matter that there were other guests to attend to.
With a smile, albeit a wary one, Mingyu lifted a cup from the tray, but when she reached for the pot, the gentleman intercepted it and poured for her with a confident and steady hand.
He set the teapot down. “You do not remember me.”
“Forgive me, sir. I can’t seem to recall.”
“Perhaps it is a good sign that you do not remember. I was nothing but a pale-faced scholar and you—” He paused, his expression momentarily wistful. “You were already a great beauty.”
“My lord is too kind.” Though she was accustomed to flattery in these circles, something about his manner unsettled her.
“I wished to remain unknown so my position would not affect your initial impression of me,” he explained. “I am known as Xi Lun, attendant censor of the Palace Bureau.”
He paused with a satisfied air. That pause told her she needed to act suitably impressed.
“Inspector Xi, what an honor! Forgive me for my ignorance.”
He was enjoying her surprise while displaying outward signs of humility, though only making a halfhearted attempt. Mingyu assessed his character in that one action alone.
Xi Lun preferred stealth, an ambush. He always wanted to have the advantage.
“How does the Lotus compare now to your visit so many years ago?” she asked.
“Even more captivating than I remembered.”
He raised his cup to her. They drank for a moment in silence while Ziyi finished her song to enthusiastic applause.
“Lady Mingyu, you must come join us!” Old Taizhu called out across the room. “We can’t let some young upstart corner you for himself.”
She loved that old man. At his age, he could get away with anything.
Xi Lun’s smile froze on his face. “A moment longer, if you please.”
The request was delivered beneath his breath, but there was no mistaking it was meant to be obeyed.
“Of course, Inspector.”
“My condolences for General Deng Zhi,” he began. “I know you were...close to him.”
She didn’t know if it was worth denying, so she bowed her head instead. “We are all greatly saddened by the tragedy.”
“As is the entire empire by the passing of such a great man. The Emperor has called for a state funeral and an official day of mourning. I must confess, though, there were times when I hated him.”
Her pulse jumped and once again her skin prickled in warning. “Hated?”
“Because I realized long ago that only a man like Deng Zhi could ever possess someone like you.”
In a different tone, a lighter one, the sentiment might have been endearing. Instead, Xi Lun spoke with a tone that was both cold and calculated.
“I hate to feel envious of anyone, Lady Mingyu. I knew I would have to be diligent, that I would have to toil day and nig
ht to make a name for myself.”
“It appears you have succeeded admirably, Inspector Xi.”
“Not yet.” He looked down into his cup, absorbed in thought. “When one is climbing the ranks, there is always another step above. But your face continued to inspire me on many late nights. Your image, and even this place—” He paused to glance around them. “This place became the manifestation of all I wanted to achieve. My heart is very happy, Lady Mingyu, to finally make your acquaintance here at the Lotus Palace.”
She nodded, wanting very much to flee from his intense stare. Instead, Mingyu maintained a pleasant expression as she drank her tea. All the while, her heart thudded inside her chest.
It was always dangerous dealing with powerful men, especially those whose pride was displayed so eagerly. Those were the ones who were easily offended. Those were the admirers who could turn on you in a heartbeat.
CHAPTER TEN
GENERAL DENG’S FUNERAL was a state affair, as festive as it was solemn. Drumbeats sounded from sunrise through the Dragon Hour on the appointed day. A hundred soldiers were to march in the funeral procession with banners raised to show the Emperor’s favor.
As Kaifeng patrolled the Three Lanes, he watched the inhabitants of the Lotus Palace assemble outside to make the journey out of the ward. Most of the quarter had left early that morning to gather along the Imperial Way, the main road that ran down the length of the capital. Mingyu was conspicuously absent as the ladies of the Lotus climbed into two carriages and set off.
Glancing up to the rooftop pavilion, he detected a flutter of silk from behind one of the pillars. Someone remained up there, perched at the very edge. His pulse jumped and his instincts ignited.
Mingyu had acted out of character the last time he had seen her, retreating into a dark alleyway as if she didn’t want company. Then she’d drawn him outside with her, as if she didn’t want to be alone. Yet she was alone now.
Every time he’d encountered Mingyu, she was among admirers or attended by her servants or her sisters, as she called them. He tried to imagine why she would be up on the rooftop by herself today and his mind went to a dark place.
He crossed the street in several long strides and found the doors to the pleasure house unlocked. The parlors and sitting rooms inside were all empty. The place lost its luster in the daytime when it wasn’t filled with music and enchanting young ladies.
A sense of urgency grew within him as he climbed the stairs toward the third floor. When he reached the top step, he saw Mingyu seated at the edge of the open pavilion overlooking the city. One shoulder leaned against the red column and her head rested against the wood, exposing the long, elegant line of her figure.
He let out a breath. She had a wine cup in one hand which she sipped from daintily. Her pose was relaxed, serene even. The sound of the ceremonial drums must have drowned out his approach since Mingyu continued to stare into the distance.
“Lady Mingyu,” he greeted.
She swung around, startled, but relaxed a moment later when she recognized him.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I’ve seen my former lover with his head removed. Nothing frightens me anymore.”
“I noticed you did not leave with the others.”
Mingyu remained where she was, though she shifted slightly to face him. “If you are here to visit some calamity upon me, Constable, I should warn you that Old Auntie is downstairs. She is deadly with a kitchen knife.”
Wu nodded gravely. “Chickens must tremble before her.”
Her lips pressed together momentarily before she gave in and let out a little laugh. Mingyu was undeniably beautiful, but she became truly pretty when she laughed. Her face brightened and the mask of cool beauty that set her apart melted away.
“Join me.” Mingyu gestured toward the column next to hers. After a moment’s hesitation, he went and sank down against it. They reclined across from one another, two mismatched mirror images.
“An assistant from the magistrate’s office came by to question us yesterday,” she began. “Are you no longer investigating General Deng’s death?”
He made a face. “There are those who think the case should be in the hands of more capable men.”
“How unfortunate.”
“I would think you would be relieved.”
“Why should I be? You’ve treated me fairly, Constable.”
Wu rested an arm over one knee as he regarded her. “You chose not to attend the funeral procession.”
“I’ll hardly be missed.”
“But you and General Deng were—” He paused to search for a suitable phrase. “Closely associated.”
“We make as if such a relationship is so important, but it means nothing outside of the quarter. I was the general’s occasional companion. A songstress and a diversion. This is a dream world, Constable. We don’t exist outside it.”
“Avoiding the funeral could be seen as a sign of guilt.”
Mingyu shrugged her shoulders, unperturbed. “I know what you’ve done for me, Wu Kaifeng. I have no explanation for how I behaved when I found Deng murdered. I don’t even know why I came first to you. I just felt that I had to.”
“You were shocked and frightened. Death is not an easy thing. It isn’t meant to be.”
She reached for her cup again. “But there was blood on my hands.”
“I was once discovered lifting the lifeless bodies of my father and mother into an oxcart.”
Mingyu’s eyes grew wide and she nearly choked on her wine.
“It was a long time ago,” he amended, which didn’t seem to lessen the shock. Kaifeng didn’t know what had compelled him to reveal that part of his past.
“I knew they were gone the moment I saw them that morning,” he went on. “But I thought I needed to do something. I couldn’t stay, but I couldn’t leave them. If I could just get them to the physician, then maybe...”
He fell silent, suddenly a thousand miles and many years away.
“You’re flesh and blood, after all,” she murmured, holding out the cup to him. The color of the liquor was pale green against the porcelain. “It’s bamboo-leaf wine. The most expensive jug in our cellar.”
Still caught in a fog, Kaifeng stretched forward to take the cup from her. Their fingertips brushed lightly in the exchange and he felt her gaze on him as he took a sip. The wine was sweetened and steeped in cinnamon and spice with a slightly bitter herbal note underneath. Almost medicinal in nature.
“Ginseng,” he detected. “And snow lotus.”
Mingyu raised her shapely eyebrows, duly impressed. “It was General Deng’s favorite.”
“You’re sentimental, Lady Mingyu.”
It was a revelation. She was a revelation.
“I’m not,” she denied, avoiding his eyes. “Madame Sun purchased the wine especially for Deng. What use is keeping it now?”
He set the empty cup down between them and she poured out more of the spiced wine, but he declined when she offered it to him.
“How old were you when your father and mother passed away?” she asked.
“Fourteen.”
“Such a tragedy.”
Before Kaifeng realized it, he was offering her the details of the incident. “At first I was accused of killing them, but Old Guo, the physician who later took me in, convinced the magistrate I wasn’t to blame. He never did find out for certain what had caused their deaths. An evil wind, Guo called it.”
Mingyu’s expression softened as she listened to his tale. “Did you feel that you were looking at everything through a veil? I felt that way after General Deng’s death. Nothing seemed clear, as if I were looking at the world through a haze of smoke.”
“Sometimes I think the veil was never lifted for me,” he admitted.
>
He regretted it the moment he said it. This was a luridly personal detail, but Mingyu didn’t appear offended.
“Does that help you do what you do?”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “What I do?”
“Facing death and such—” She struggled to find a word. “Such tragedy without becoming overwhelmed?”
“Perhaps, but it isn’t always an asset. I was a devoted son to my parents, but I never had the sense that I mourned them as I should.”
A breeze stirred between them high up on the pavilion. When it settled, Kaifeng was stricken by the sense that something was different between them. Mingyu regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy, but it wasn’t the practiced look of a courtesan.
“You do have a talent for getting men to confide in you,” he remarked.
“One of many talents.”
The affected look returned in the form of a coy smile, but it couldn’t mask what he’d seen of her. Mingyu played absently with the wine cup now, but didn’t drink.
“Sometimes talent can be a curse,” she mused.
“It’s made you the most sought-after courtesan in the Pingkang li.”
A brittle laugh escaped her lips. “I think Madame Sun wants to sell me off to someone.”
A knot formed in his chest that he had no explanation for. “And this is someone you don’t wish to belong to?”
“I don’t want to belong to anyone.” Mingyu laid her head back against the wooden column. “When you told me it was difficult to look at me...did you say it because I have sad eyes?”
“Sad eyes?”
Kaifeng didn’t even know what that meant. Was this some poetic reference?
She tried to wave the question aside. “It doesn’t matter. It was ridiculous, anyway.”
“It’s difficult to look at you because you make me want things,” he answered plainly. “Things I cannot have.”
Mingyu straightened and he could see the jump of her pulse along her throat. Kaifeng rose slowly, straightening to his full, imposing height, while she scrambled to her feet.
