by Rose Lerner
“You keep it in your bed chamber?” I choked out incredulously.
My question might have sounded terribly modest and dainty, but no one had ever spoken like this to me. About wounds and weapons and death. I’d never suffered a wound beyond slicing my finger on a broken shard of porcelain.
“I found it this morning. Magistrate Li is sending someone for it. Am I frightening you?”
He must have finally noticed how I could barely breathe.
“I’m fine,” I said.
I wasn’t fine, but it felt like the polite thing to say. Wu Kaifeng was taking me into his confidence and I didn’t want to appear unworthy. I was pleased even though the subject itself was mortifying.
“Do you notice anything about the knife?” he asked.
I edged closer. The blade was longer than the length of my hand and only slightly wider than the wooden handle. “It looks like an ordinary kitchen knife,” I said, feeling completely unhelpful. I’d never seen any knife up close beside a kitchen knife. And then only in the hands of our servants.
“It is a kitchen knife. A quality one. Not the weapon of a seasoned killer.”
I didn’t even know what a seasoned killer was, but I could see Wu’s reasoning. This blade would have actually been difficult to conceal.
“What if the knife didn’t belong to the killer, but to Scholar Chen?” I surmised.
Wu’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?”
“Nothing in particular, I’m just supposing. He knew he was going to a somewhat dangerous place and took a knife for protection.”
“Chen had two stab wounds to the abdomen. One might have been inadvertent. The other was done with more force. Neither with any skill, but even a clumsy attempt can hit vital organs.”
I tried to remain as calm and objective as possible. “Mister Wu, you keep talking about skill and a ‘seasoned’ individual.”
“I have to consider that someone might have been hired to do this.”
“You don’t believe it was a robbery.”
“He had all his valuables. He was attacked out in the open rather than in a more hidden location. The body wasn’t dragged out of sight so it could be searched in privacy.”
Wu rattled off a litany of reasons, which told me he’d seen too many of these incidents.
“But Scholar Chen could have had his own knife turned on him,” I interrupted.
“You like this theory, Lady Bai.”
An odd use of words. “I was just trying to reason things through.”
Maybe I did like this theory, as Wu remarked. It meant the death could have been accidental, perhaps even in defense, which made it somehow less horrific.
“The gaming slip I found—”
“You’re changing directions too quickly,” Wu chided.
“Bear with me for a moment. Just for a moment.” I could tell from Wu’s frown that he wasn’t pleased with my lack of singular focus. “The gaming slip, do you think it belonged to whoever did this?”
Wu stared at me for a long time before answering. “I don’t make assumptions.”
“But you believe it’s a significant detail.”
“All details are significant.”
“That can’t be true. Then you would never decide where to go next. What is your instinct on this?”
What I was asking was difficult for him. “You’re changing directions too quickly,” he muttered once more. “The lot had not yet been drawn on that ticket. It would have represented potential winnings.”
“And it didn’t likely belong to Scholar Chen because the drawings are a peasant’s game.”
Wu looked at me, surprised, as Gao’s words echoed from my lips. The gaming slip didn’t belong to my brother either, which gave me only a little comfort. I wished that Huang had been far away from the incident, but I feared he’d been a lot closer than any of us knew.
“You know where the ticket came from,” I prompted. Wu had recognized the mark on it.
“It’s a well-known gaming house.”
“Then you must be close to finding the killer.”
“No.” Wu let out a snort, for the first time sounding impatient with me.
He had made so much progress in so little time. I had figured with his formidable reputation, Wu was on his way to the answers.
Carefully, Wu wrapped the knife back up and returned it to its hiding place. It was astounding how all these signs remained to point back to the crime. The wrongs of the world didn’t simply disappear, leaving nothing but an invisible scar.
“Why are you revealing all of this to me, Mister Wu?”
This had to be an uncommon occurrence for him as much as for me.
“You are a close witness in this case, who has provided the most significant details so far,” he replied. “And you have a good mind, Lady Bai.”
Was that a compliment?
“You are very kind, Mister Wu,” I replied, more than a little pleased. “I was afraid my conclusions were crude and oversimplified.”
“They are.”
So it wasn’t a compliment.
“There are those who want to look away as soon as they’ve encountered tragedy. They want to forget. You are not like that. You want to know the answers.”
“I want to see things set right.”
Fate had put me in the center of this tragic incident. I was changed because of it.
Wu nodded gravely. “Justice may not always be possible, but we at least can try to find the answers.”
At that moment, I felt connected to Wu Kaifeng. Even if the magistrate hadn’t asked him to step in, I sensed that he would have done so anyway. It was like Wu needed to untangle all the threads to find peace.
“I also believe you may have a unique perspective to the questions that remain,” he said.
Wu was more than capable of investigating the crime on his own, so I was moved he would consult with me as if we were equals.
“What questions are those?” I asked.
He met my gaze and held it long enough for me to start fidgeting. “What would bring a celebrated imperial scholar to this area in the middle of the night? What sort of associates did he keep here? And who among them would want to do him harm?”
“I…I don’t know. Perhaps someone closer to Scholar Chen might have some idea.”
“I wonder if Lord Bai Huang would qualify as such an acquaintance.”
Our entire conversation had been as much of an interrogation as any Wu had conducted in the magistrate’s office.
“You would have to ask him,” I said, swallowing past a sudden lump in my throat.
I couldn’t escape the echo of Gao’s words. Ask him.
“I’ve tried,” Wu admitted. “However Lord Bai has been unresponsive as of late. All my inquiries have been met with silence.”
* * *
By the time the hired carriage returned to our neighborhood, the city gong had rung the start of the ninth double hour and the sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon. I was surprised to see that Huang was already home.
I was going to see Yue-ying to report that her sister was doing well and sent her regards. As I approached her chamber, I could see from the courtyard window that Huang was there with her. They sat side by side, with Yue-ying reclined on the bed and Huang perched on the edge. Their fingers were interlinked, heads bent and touching. They spoke softly to one another with words no one else was meant to hear.
My heart squeezed at the sight of them together, husband and wife. I couldn’t see Huang like that and think anything ill of him. He had made some mistakes, but he was a good man and a good brother.
Huang wanted what was best for his wife and for our family too. I knew it in my heart. He’d worked so hard to pass the imperial exams and to make a name for himself, not for his own glory, but for all of us. He would be the head of our family when our father was no longer able.
Why would Huang risk everything now by returning to the gambling dens? He’d earned the rank of
jinshi and he’d fought to marry the woman he loved. He had a son or a daughter on the way any day now.
Ask him.
That was our family weakness, wasn’t it? We valued respect and harmony over all things. Perhaps even over the truth. And so we kept quiet. Even at the worst of times, when my father had threatened to disown my brother, there had been barely a raised voice. I didn’t know the details of what had transpired other than that they were dark times, and something unspeakable had happened. Then Father had taken Huang away, and they had both come back changed.
It was in Huang’s nature to keep secrets, but not for his own sake. If he was hiding something, it was because he thought to protect us. But then how would I protect him?
I would confront him. We had always been close, and though Huang was more distant than ever since the exams, I was still in a better position to reach him than anyone else. I was the one Huang had confided in when he’d fallen in love with Yue-ying. Father had considered her unsuitable, Mother insisted Huang was already betrothed, but I’d found a way, hadn’t I? And no one had to be disowned.
Huang would confide in me now as well.
I waited until he had left Yue-ying and retired to his study. Then I had the kitchen prepare a tray of tea and rice flour cakes so I could bring them to him.
Huang glanced up from his desk as I entered. He took a look at me, the tray, and then back to me. “What is it, Wei-wei?”
“You’re home early.”
“There were fewer papers to sort through today than usual,” he said evenly.
Carefully, I set the tray down on the corner of the desk. The stacks of pamphlets and documents were rising higher by the day.
“I went to visit Mingyu at the tea house today,” I began.
“Yue-ying told me.”
“I saw you there, Brother.”
“I must have missed you, Sister.” His expression remained still and calm.
“I heard some disturbing news there.”
A second passed by as Huang weighed my statement in his head. I could see the thoughts flicker behind his eyes. “About the robbery?”
My dear brother. He could lie to anyone but me. “I heard a man was killed,” I ventured.
“Yes, such a tragedy. I don’t think you should go there alone anymore.”
We regarded one another silently. I knew Huang was measuring his words and figuring out how much he could reveal to me. What I didn’t know was why.
“Wu Kaifeng told me the man was jinshi.”
Huang’s still expression cracked and I watched as regret poured into him.
“You knew him,” I pressed on, though I already knew the answer by Huang’s reaction. There had only been twenty degrees awarded last year.
“We weren’t close,” Huang replied. “But I certainly knew of Chen. We shared wine once, on opposite sides of a banquet table.”
Slowly he closed the document he’d been reviewing and pushed it aside. Huang then folded his hands in front of him, staring down at them as if in prayer.
After a long pause, he let out a breath. “Wei-wei.”
Whatever it was my brother needed to tell me, I would try to understand. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t what I expected.
“If I hadn’t passed the imperial exam this last sitting, what do you think would have happened?”
“You would have taken it again in three years. Many scholars sit for exams again and again for decades before passing.”
“And some spend the rest of their lives,” Huang said somberly. “If I had never passed, would Father have ever forgiven me? Would I be sitting here as your brother?”
I took the seat across from him. “You would always be my brother, Huang.”
He nodded, but remained troubled. Perhaps his behavior over these last few days had been due to grief. Scholar Chen was of a similar upbringing and age to Huang. It was natural to see himself in Chen’s place, wasn’t it?
There was just one thing I needed to know. “I saw you speaking with a man outside the tea house today. Who was that?”
Huang straightened. “I don’t recall speaking with anyone in particular.”
“But I saw you.”
“He must have been just a stranger I met in passing.”
I’d been holding onto one last thread of trust, but it snapped. Huang was lying to me without a single hint of remorse. I’d seen my brother with the man. I’d even followed them. I waited, praying he’d set things right.
“Thank you for the tea,” Huang said instead, though he failed to pour any before returning his attention to his paperwork. He retrieved the document he’d set aside and commenced reading.
My brother continued to ignore me as I stood to go. Only when I’d reached the door did he speak.
“The market ward has a reputation for lawlessness,” he warned. “You would be wise not to venture out there anymore.”
Chapter 5
* * *
There was a bridge in the northern suburbs that overlooked the river. It was said that for every examination period in the last hundred years, a candidate had thrown himself into the river after failing to hear his name called out for a degree. The name of the bridge was never mentioned, lest it lure more unfortunate souls to its heights.
For the son of a prominent family such as ours, there was no higher goal than passing the exams. We had come from a long line of distinguished scholars and poets.
After the exchange with my brother, I couldn’t stop thinking about that bridge. I knew Huang felt the weight of our lineage upon his shoulders. There were men who would do anything to pass the imperial exams. To them it was life or death.
That afternoon, I wandered into the kitchen with a half-formed plan to inspect the knives for any that might be missing. I left before my search even began, feeling foolish.
I began to watch my brother’s every move. He woke up early to leave for his job at the records office. He’d arrive back before sundown to sit dutifully with his wife for an hour.
I wanted so much to believe in their happiness. That the hard times for both of them were behind them.
Late at night, Huang always lingered in his study. His lantern stayed burning after everyone else retired to bed. The next few days passed in this manner, until one night I deliberately stayed up into the Rat Hour, long after the house had gone still.
I crept into the courtyard to find Huang’s lantern still burning. When I went to the door, the study was empty.
When Huang slipped out to the stable a few days later, I was ready. I was dressed in a scholar’s garment—one of my younger brother’s plain robes this time. I’d learned from the last outing that Huang’s wardrobe attracted too much attention.
In the stable, I found one of the horses missing. I could have roused our servant Zhou Dan once again, but thought better of it. Zhou Dan was my brother’s man.
I saddled the other horse and led him quietly through our lane, only mounting once I’d reached the main avenue. Father had taught both my brother and me to ride. It took a little work to figure out how to hold the lantern in one hand and the reins in the other, but I managed.
By the time I reached the ward gate, Huang was already gone. I showed my pass to the night guard, who once again let me through with barely a nod.
Instinct told me Huang had gone to the same place. There was something in the market ward that drew him there. Hadn’t Gao said that gamblers had their habits?
There was a reason Huang had specifically warned me away from the market ward. So that was where I went now.
I inquired at the gate about a gentleman on horseback. Indeed someone had just come through. Before long, I was back in the night market, where the lanterns glowed bright. The street was filled with people.
It was still a marvel to me that life continued like this for so many hours after sundown. For our household, we enjoyed only a few quiet hours after supper before retiring to bed. The servants would finish the last of the chores, dimming the lanterns i
n the parlors and closing the windows. Slowly the voices would die down and the chirp of crickets would take over.
But here, in these streets, it was as if the day were only beginning.
I tethered my horse to a post beside a noodle stand and felt a tug on my sleeve. I turned to see a boy of eight or nine years, with eyes too large for his face.
“Sir,” came a small voice. “I can watch your horse for you.”
He appeared earnest enough, with large black eyes set in a thin face that begged to be fed. “Can I ask you another favor, young sir?” I asked. “Find the one called Gao for me.”
I held out a coin. I don’t know whether the boy recognized the name, but he gave me a determined nod before snatching the copper and running down the street.
Gao had told me everyone in the neighborhood knew one another. I hoped it was true.
The sights and sounds of the night market surrounded me while I waited. The rich bone-broth smell wafting from the noodle stand almost tempted me to purchase a bowl. To have a reason for being about, for one, but also to preserve the moment. Concerns for my brother aside, I was moving through the world on my own. It was exhilarating.
“Young Lord Bai, this time.”
I swung around. Gao looked at me questioningly and I realized a small, secret smile still lingered on my lips. I quickly donned a more serious expression.
“Brother Gao, I need to find my brother.”
“I wasn’t aware he was about,” he replied, non-committal.
“I followed Huang here, but I’ve lost him,” I replied firmly. “The two of you are well acquainted. You must be aware of the places he frequents.”
He gave a shrug, revealing nothing. Gao claimed to have a business association with my brother and nothing more, yet he seemed intent on keeping Huang’s secrets.
“You’ll be paid for your time,” I offered, reaching into my pocket to retrieve a silver ingot.
Gao’s expression froze at the sight of the money. Slowly he came forward, reaching to close my fingers over the ingot. His hand was rough over mine, and a streak of heat rushed up my arm.
“Be careful when showing off wealth in public,” he warned in a low voice. He was still holding onto my hand as he pressed closer. “And don’t try to hire me. I won’t accept your money.”
