by Rose Lerner
I froze on the threshold and just stared. The darkness of the night was replaced by the warm glow of lanterns. Every table was full. I had thought the place would be empty. The tea house had just opened its doors as winter faded, and the location was far from the popular North Hamlet.
Then again, this was where Mingyu now served as hostess. She was formerly one of the most celebrated courtesans in the Pingkang li. Now she and her husband, Wu Kaifeng, ran this out-of-the-way tea house.
Mingyu materialized from somewhere within the crowd. She recognized me, as I expected she would. Her eyes brightened and the slight lift at the corner of her mouth told me…I didn’t know what it told me.
“Young master Bai,” she greeted, playing along.
“Lady Mingyu.”
I was actually grateful to see a familiar face. She was Yue-ying’s sister, which made us in some way like sisters ourselves. The two of them had the same willowy figure and elegant features. The most marked difference was that Yue-ying had a dramatic red birthmark along one cheek, while Mingyu’s skin was as smooth and flawless as porcelain.
Scholars composed poems about Mingyu. I’d come across a few of them long before my brother became enamored with her less famous sister.
Mingyu was said to have bones of jade and flesh of ice, with a beauty that was so sharp and undeniable that you felt it like a wound to the chest. What it must be like to inspire such dramatic verses.
She came toward me now, floating more than walking. I affected a bow as she neared.
I’d always admired Mingyu. She was known for her cleverness as well as her beauty. As a courtesan, she had the freedom to converse with the most powerful and influential scholar-gentlemen in the capital.
The truth was I felt more than admiration for her. I envied her.
I had never experienced Mingyu’s hospitality as a man might. She tilted her head solicitously as she greeted me. “So good to see you again, young master.”
She touched my sleeve, took hold of my arm. So many little subtleties that were impossible to catch. I was entranced just watching her and followed obediently along as she led me to a seat.
I realized as I settled in that it was exactly the spot I would have chosen. In the corner and out of the way, with a good view of the room. With Mingyu’s attentiveness, I felt completely at ease, as if I belonged there.
She brought a flask of warmed wine to me. “Your usual,” she teased.
By the time she poured me a cup, I was completely initiated. No one would question what I was doing there. I had a drink before me. Putting on a look of what I hoped was thoughtful reflectiveness, I strained to listen to the surrounding conversation as Mingyu handed me the wine.
A shout rose from the adjoining table, followed by a chorus of cheering.
“What is that?” I asked once the noise died down.
Mingyu cast an amused look toward the revelers. “Liar’s dice. It’s a bluffing game.”
The next round had started up. I craned my neck to watch as the group of men each shook their dice in a cup, then slammed the cups down onto the table in unison. Then began a round of wagering and drinking.
“How do you win?”
“There is no winning. It’s a game one plays to play.”
Mingyu left to tend to her other customers and I focused on the other tables. What I could hear wasn’t as much poetry and debate as it was bluster. Bawdy jokes, complaints about this foreman or that customer. It was endlessly fascinating.
Scanning the room, I caught sight of Constable Wu. Or rather, former Constable Wu. My brother had told me Wu Kaifeng resigned as constable shortly before Wu and Mingyu were wed.
Wu Kaifeng was easy to spot. He was the tallest person in the room, easily a head above everyone else. His dark gaze fixed onto me and he gave me a disapproving glare. Or perhaps it wasn’t quite disapproval. He always had that forbidding look about him, with piercing eyes that reminded me of a hawk sighting prey.
I looked quickly away, forgetting my resolve not to do that. A lifetime of etiquette was hard to break.
I occupied my hands with pouring a second cup of wine and by the time I looked up, Wu’s gaze had moved on. Fortunately, Mingyu’s skills as a hostess counteracted her husband’s dark presence. The mood in the room was a lighthearted one.
By the time I finished my second cup, I was warm inside from the drink as well as the minor triumph of having passed an hour undetected. The party at the center of the room had started discussing our new emperor and recent corruption reforms. I ached to join in—perhaps next time.
For now, it was time to return home. Mingyu was engrossed in conversation at the other end of the room, so I left a few coins on the table and rose to go.
Outside, the air had grown cooler, but my cheeks were flushed. I had succeeded. I’d pried open a door and wedged a stone into the gap. My little world was a bit larger now.
It was hard to keep the bounce out of my step until I reached the street. I stopped cold.
The lane was empty. Zhou Dan and the carriage had disappeared.
* * *
I circled the tea house, staying warily away from the dark corners and alleyways. Then I stood at the front to wait, but only lasted a few minutes before growing impatient.
There was no cause for concern, I told myself. None at all.
It was late. Curfew was in effect. Zhou Dan and his carriage had looked out of place. He must have caught the attention of the night patrol. We had passed by a patrol station near North Market. I would go there, find Zhou, and explain myself with an air of authority.
Having a plan in place made me feel better. I set out down the lane and after a few turns, learned something else about myself.
I had rarely walked the lanes of the city, and never had I been left alone in an unfamiliar area. What had seemed an easy path from the carriage—well, the way was not so simple to recreate on foot. Every street looked different from what I remembered, or rather everything looked the same.
“Bai!”
I tensed. That was my name, or my family name, but I certainly didn’t recognize the voice. As the footsteps came closer, I didn’t know whether to turn or flee.
“Lost, are you? I thought you’d be able to find your way around here in your sleep.”
Whoever it was used a casual form of address that spoke of familiarity. I spun around, heart racing.
A man stood only a few paces away. A lantern from a nearby post cast the area in dim light and I could only make out the barest of details. Short tunic, plain trousers. Black over dark gray. Dressed the way he was, he could easily disappear into the surrounding darkness.
I took some comfort that he had stopped his advance as soon as I turned around. The grin on his face froze.
“You’re not Bai Huang.”
I tilted my chin upward to meet his eyes. That was the only part of my act I could recall. The puffing of the chest and all those other details suddenly escaped me. I took a deep breath to gather my voice.
“Lord Bai Huang is my brother.”
The stranger took one step closer. “Brother,” he echoed, his tone flat.
I fought the urge to back away. “And I’m his…brother.”
I cringed at the awkward exchange, but the stranger—who I’d discerned was some acquaintance of Huang’s—kept his expression neutral as he looked me up and down.
His cheekbones rose sharply from his face which, when coupled with the unforgivably hard jaw, gave him a stark, almost harsh appearance. Feeling uncomfortably exposed, I wanted to avert my eyes before realizing he was not looking at me so much as at my clothes.
It was a garish robe, trimmed with a rich blue brocade and accented with a phoenix pattern along the sleeves. That was why the man had mistaken me for Huang. No one else dressed like that. My brother no longer did either, for that matter, which was how I’d managed to procure it.
“I was at the Spring Blossom tea house,” I began, deliberately pitching my voice deeper.
> “Wu Kaifeng’s place?”
“Yes. Wu Kaifeng. I was visiting him and his wife. I know them well. Very well.”
This stranger should take note that I was well acquainted with the former lawman. Wu Kaifeng was feared by wrong-doers and law-abiding citizens alike.
“Well,” he drawled. “Any friend of Wu’s.”
He didn’t finish, which led to an awkwardly long pause while I tried to figure out what was expected of me in this exchange.
“I’ve lost my way,” I blurted out.
His mouth quirked. That slight twitch did wonders to soften his hard expression.
“In that case, I can help you, young Lord Bai.”
I breathed easier as he turned and began walking. I fell into step as best I could, moving quickly to keep up with his long stride.
“I am very grateful, friend.”
Though we walked alongside one another in the street, I kept an arm’s length between us. The stranger had a lean, wiry frame and was tall enough to make me feel small beside him. He seemed very comfortable walking these dark alleys at night. That, and the fact that he knew my brother, was all I knew about him. Best to keep my distance.
“I’m known as Gao,” he said.
Just Gao. It was an abrupt, nondescript name, much like the man himself.
“Is that your family name?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Just a name. And yours?”
I had a false identity prepared in case anyone were to ask, but now Gao knew I was related to Huang. How much had my brother told this man about our family? I considered giving him my younger brother’s name.
Beside me, Gao had slowed, watching my internal struggle with a raised eyebrow. I was about to offer up something in the way of a response, when a shout broke through the night.
I turned toward the sound. “What was that?”
“Probably nothing.”
I was already moving. There was another muffled cry, something that sounded like a cry for help.
Gao caught up with me easily, grabbing a lantern from beside an entrance way. He moved in close so that the lantern lit the path in front of us as we wound through the alleyway.
We emerged to see a crumpled figure lying on the ground, unmoving. I started to rush forward, but Gao caught my arm. “What are you doing?”
“He could be hurt.”
The man didn’t stir. I tried to move forward, but Gao held me back. The night patrol had arrived from the opposite side of the street. Two guardsmen moved to the corner, bending over the figure. They shouted into the darkness behind them.
More guards appeared, along with a few stragglers from the night market. In the commotion, Gao moved closer to me. Any hope that Gao believed I was Huang’s brother disappeared the moment I felt his touch against the small of my back.
I had little experience with men outside my family, but there was something unmistakable about the way a man touched a woman. And the way a woman reacted must have also been instinctive. My body tensed and an odd flutter swirled around in my stomach.
Blushing, I cast my gaze downward and caught sight of a slip of paper beside my foot. I bent down to pick it up. There was writing on it, but I barely had a chance to look it over before Gao was pulling me away from the incident.
I shoved the paper into my sash while my heart pounded. Against my better judgment, I tried to look back over my shoulder. Gao repositioned himself to form a barrier between me and the street corner. I tried to peer past him and saw that the fallen figure hadn’t moved.
“But we heard him,” I protested, voice trembling. “Is he…is he—”
I couldn’t form the question.
“Out here it’s best to stay out of the affairs of others,” Gao said gently. “Something both you and your brother need to learn.”
“Lady Bai!”
The call came from the other side of the street. When I didn’t answer, Zhou Dan resorted to my name. “Wei-wei!” He hurried toward us, a look of anger and relief on his face. “Where have you been?”
The moment he saw Gao, a look of recognition flickered across his face. Zhou Dan took my arm to lead me down the lane.
“Wei-wei,” Gao repeated thoughtfully. He held my gaze as if we’d never been interrupted, even while I was led away.
“Who is he?” I asked Zhou Dan as we moved to where he’d left the carriage.
“No one you should associate with,” he replied abruptly.
I took one final glance back over my shoulder at Gao. He stood still and tall in the middle of the street, watching me. It wasn’t long before his tall figure faded into the darkness.
Chapter 2
* * *
By the next morning, I was Wei-wei, the well-mannered and dutiful daughter once more. However, a glance at my bronze mirror showed dark circles beneath my eyes, which a layer of powder did nothing to cover.
How much sleep did I end up getting? Three hours? Maybe four at most. Zhou Dan had returned me to the mansion late last night, and I’d lain in my bed afterward, too anxious from the events of the night to sleep.
What had happened to the figure huddled on the corner? Had he been some vagrant or drunkard? Or a passerby who’d met some untimely tragedy? I’d been right there, in the shadow of his footsteps.
I fumbled through the pockets of my robe from the previous evening and found the slip of paper I’d picked up. Taking care to avoid the dark stain in the corner, I opened it to examine by the light streaming in from the window.
Though I could make out the details more clearly, I still couldn’t decipher what its purpose was. It appeared to be written in some sort of code. The characters were basic ones, but jumbled so they formed phrases that made no sense.
I stashed the disguise away at the bottom of my wardrobe and dressed quickly, selecting a house robe that was simple enough for me to manage on my own. I folded the mysterious slip of paper beneath my sash.
The robe was modestly cut with a draped sleeve and storm gray in color. Mother used to complain that I would never catch the eye of any proper young gentleman dressed like that. It might have encouraged me even more. I deliberately chose dark colors to mimic the somber, almost austere fashion among the scholar-elite. The eldest, dour-faced, spinster daughter of the Bai family had a reputation to uphold, one I’d carefully cultivated.
As long as I remained unmarried, I would remain in my family home, the one where I’d carefully carved out a place for myself. I was responsible for my younger brother’s studies and for taking care of our library. Marriage to a man, any man, would mean a new life in a strange home. One where the servants hadn’t raised me and doted on me. One where I wouldn’t have someone like Zhou Dan as an ally.
Unfortunately my reputation wasn’t quite as effective as I’d hoped. It didn’t matter if I was ugly or dull or no longer a budding flower. Our family was wealthy. Our name was prominent. I could have the tail of a fox and there would still be suitors.
To make matters worse, I knew I wasn’t ugly. Even in the darkness of the streets, the stranger Gao had known it as well.
I’m not vain, but the eyes of others serve as mirrors. I knew how people looked at me. How Gao had looked at me, intent and curious enough to make my cheeks flush warm with the memory.
I pulled my hair into a matronly bun. At my age of twenty-five years, I could qualify as matronly in some circles. Respectably unmarried, was my aim. It would be simpler if I were a widow—but I didn’t wish anyone ill. Certainly not the hapless man who would marry me.
I emerged from my chamber to the first stirrings of activity in the household. A maidservant was sweeping in the second courtyard, and faint smoke rose from the cook house.
My younger brother had not yet risen. As soon as he did, I would be expected to meet him in the study to direct the lessons for the day. For now, I had a few moments of leisurely freedom.
Usually I would seek out a cup of tea to drink in the garden, but today I went to look for Zhou Dan. I wanted to get his
opinion on the incident on the street corner. He’d been so afraid of getting caught last night that he’d left with hardly a word after we’d returned.
Inside the stable house, the groomsman was rubbing down one of the stallions while he clucked his tongue and murmured quietly to the animal. “Working hard last night, were you? No rest for the old fellow.”
I frowned as I passed by. At first I’d thought he must have been speaking of the horse we’d taken out with the carriage, but that had been the sandy-colored mare while the stallion was black. The mount favored by my older brother.
Returning to the main house, I found Huang in his study, poring over a stack of papers. Huang had taken over our father’s study, since our father’s work in the Ministry of Defense sent him frequently out of the capital.
“Elder Brother,” I greeted, hovering by the doorway.
He looked up at me with an expression that was controlled. Too controlled. “Wei-wei.”
All our lives, we’d been told how similar we looked. Peach blossom features, they called it. In Huang, the traits came out in his dark, expressive eyes and shapely mouth. His face was a friendly, inviting one. He was considered not merely handsome, but beautiful in a masculine sense.
In a woman, such beauty was a hindrance. No one could see anything beyond it. In a man, comeliness provided all sorts of opportunities. Huang could smile and laugh and convince anyone of anything. People tended to let down their guard, to trust him.
He was not smiling now. He was frowning over some documents, which he impatiently shoved away as I approached.
“Were you up late working?” I indicated the stack of papers.
“Hmm? Yes. As usual.”
Huang was far from his charming self this morning.
“Did your meeting go well?”
“What?” He frowned, his dark eyebrows rising.
“Your evening meeting,” I said with forced casualness. An odd feeling crept up my spine. “The one that kept you away for dinner last night.”
