by Jeannie Lin
The guests were seated on pillows arranged around several low tables and the celebration was already under way. Mingyu caught her eye from the center of the gathering. Though Mingyu was in midconversation with Magistrate Li and the old historian Taizhu, she stopped and started to rise.
“What happened?” Mingyu demanded as Yue-ying came to her.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered.
It really was nothing to speak of. She was unharmed and it was better for everyone if she didn’t make trouble.
Lord Bai appeared at the top of the stairs. He paused for a moment to scan through the banquet and it wasn’t long before his gaze centered on them. With a wide grin, he sauntered over.
“Any room here?” he inquired casually, as if he weren’t addressing the county magistrate and an official of the Hanlin Academy.
“Young Lord Bai,” the magistrate greeted. “This banquet is to thank Lady Mingyu for an introduction to the quarter. Any friend of hers is certainly welcome.”
“Lord Bai, if you please.” Mingyu held out her hand in invitation, but her mouth formed a hard line.
Magistrate Li graciously offered the seat beside him and Yue-ying edged away as Bai Huang came near. He didn’t even glance her way as he sat down. To Yue-ying’s relief, Mingyu asked one of the girls to retrieve the wine and took it upon herself to pour. Yue-ying retreated back a few steps.
It was just a kiss, she scolded herself. It was over and done with and the nobleman didn’t seem intent on exacting revenge for her slap. The best thing to do was to forget about it.
“What happened there?” Magistrate Li asked, gesturing toward his face.
Bai Huang placed his fingertips beneath his eye and felt along the reddened scratch beneath it. She hadn’t realized she’d left a mark.
He seemed as surprised as she was. “This? I received this on the way over here. Made the mistake of cornering an alley cat.” His eyes flicked momentarily to her. “A well-deserved punishment.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Was he playing with her still? Despite his advances being unwelcome, she was left scandalized. It was as if she’d stolen away deliberately to meet him, as if they now shared a secret. She wanted no part of it.
The nobleman had returned to his usual tricks. He complimented Mingyu effusively, likening her to a peach blossom.
“But peach blossoms are known for being so delicate and their season is quite brief,” Mingyu replied coolly.
Bai Huang blinked at her, befuddled. “A lily, then?” he offered.
The party laughed at the exchange and he continued to look bewildered for a moment before breaking out into a grin, pleased that he must have said something witty to evoke the response.
Out in the open, he hardly presented an intimidating figure. His robe was overly flamboyant, his posture laid-back. He drank too much and threw money around. He enjoyed his special place as the beloved fool of the Pingkang li, but Yue-ying had never found him amusing. His humor always seemed too forced to her. His efforts lacked spontaneity.
Magistrate Li picked up the conversation, perhaps feeling obligated as the banquet’s sponsor. “Lord Bai, your love for verses must be in your blood. I hear that you are related to the poet Bai Juyi. His passing was a great loss.”
“A distant relation,” the nobleman replied. “Though proud of the association, I would be ashamed to boast of it. Blood matters little next to merit, wouldn’t you say?”
Mingyu glanced up from her conversation with Taizhu. The two listened with mild interest.
“No one would disagree with that,” Li said amiably.
“Now, the magistrate has something to boast about. What’s this? Attaining the rank of jinshi at only nineteen years of age? I must drink to you.”
The magistrate laughed and denied any special status. When not in his official robe, he could certainly be mistaken for one of the many students in the quarter with his pleasant manner and youthful face.
“He’s too humble,” Taizhu said. “Not only did he pass the palace exams, Li Yen earned the rank of selective talent, third overall in his class.”
Bai Huang insisted on raising his cup to drink to Li’s accomplishment. “I should ask the magistrate for advice,” he said boisterously. “What tricks did the magistrate employ to score so well?”
Magistrate Li’s ears flushed red at the tips, though that might have been from the drink. “No trick really.”
“This humble student can’t seem to pass no matter who he bribes.”
Bai Huang’s jest was met with nervous laughter from Li Yen as well as the other attendees. Taizhu scowled at him. Again he played the fool, or did he? His self-effacing smile was a bit hard at the edges.
Yue-ying was never part of such conversation. She was to remain silent and wait to be useful, always watching and always listening. It gave her an opportunity to scrutinize Lord Bai’s seemingly senseless questions and his overflowing enthusiasm. He wasn’t a know-nothing who was trying too hard to impress. He was trying very deliberately to provoke a response. But why?
She would have continued to dismiss him as well, until that horrible mockery of a kiss. Her view of him was forever changed.
“Now I wonder why there are no imperial exams for women?” Mingyu chimed in, filling the tense silence.
Her suggestion was met with equal parts chuckling and enthusiastic support.
“A new exam would need to be designed. With a different set of questions,” Taizhu proposed.
“Why should the process be any different for a woman? I would welcome the privilege of being able to fail the imperial exams.” She gave Bai Huang a sly look and he beamed.
“Let us enforce a new rule.” Mingyu held up her hand dramatically and everyone quieted to listen. In this social gathering, she was official hostess and acting magistrate. “This is a festival night. Anyone who mentions exams or appointments or politics—” she cast Taizhu a pointed look, which he accepted with good humor “—must take a penalty drink and be subjected to a punishment of the group’s choosing.”
Everyone raised their cups to make the decree official and, with that, peace was restored. Yue-ying was moving around the table to refill cups when another arrival stepped onto the pavilion deck. Mingyu stared at the man in the dark robe without recognition.
“Wu Kaifeng, the head constable,” Yue-ying informed her.
She had mentioned the body found in the river, but Mingyu hadn’t been particularly interested in the crime or the presence of a new constable. It was bad luck to speak of death, so the Pingkang li went on as if a corpse hadn’t recently drifted ashore practically at their gate.
Constable Wu came directly to them. His gaze passed over the gathering and he managed a stiff bow. Afterward, he straightened and stood rigidly, uncomfortable with the surroundings. Though he held an appointed position, he was still a working man, subservient to nearly everyone present. He addressed the magistrate.
“Sir, there is a matter that needs your attention.” His austere countenance cast gloom over the banquet just as it had by the river.
“Please excuse us.” Li Yen stood and the two men moved to stand beside one of the columns.
After a brief exchange, the magistrate returned. “My apologies for leaving so early. Lady Mingyu.” He bowed once to her, before turning to Bai Huang. “Lord Bai, I am happy to have met you, but regret that we didn’t get to converse at any length. Perhaps you would like to walk with me?”
Bai Huang tilted his head in surprise. A confused smile touched his lips, but he stood and took his leave as well, leaving behind more than one set of raised eyebrows.
* * *
THE EVENING WAS warm and all the lanterns of the North Hamlet were aglow, prolonging the festival atmosphere of the day. It would have been a good night for walking, except it was difficult to feel comfortable with Li Yen beside him and his dark and brooding servant trailing behind.
It was well-known that the Li and Bai clans supported different factions in the imp
erial court, with Chancellor Li Deyu dominating the court for the reign of the last two emperors. A distant relation, the magistrate would insist.
“This was my first Duanwu in the capital,” Magistrate Li remarked as they continued down the lane. “I found the festival very enjoyable.”
“A good day indeed,” Huang concurred. “My dragonboat won today so I have a heavy purse to show for it. Are we headed to the center of the Three Lanes?”
“My apologies for this delay. Has Lord Bai ever been to the House of a Hundred Songs?”
The hairs on the back of Huang’s neck rose. “The Hundred Songs boasts a few of the most talented courtesans in the district...outside of Lady Mingyu, of course.”
“I promised to make an appearance there tonight,” Li said smoothly. “If you don’t mind accompanying me?”
Li turned onto the central lane and Huang followed dutifully, keeping his guard up. The magistrate’s soft-spoken manner hid a well of ambition.
The Hundred Songs was always a cheerful place. Huang was known there as well. The house wasn’t nearly as grand in style or reputation as the Lotus Palace, but pink lanterns and carved phoenixes gave it a romantic look. The atmosphere inside was busy, but more muted than the revelry they had left behind. The hostess greeted them with some reserve.
“Why so quiet this evening, Little Plum?” Huang asked with a smile.
Mei ducked her head and beckoned them to follow her. Music floated throughout the halls, a harmonious blend of the rain-song sound of the pipa and the trill of a flute. The three of them followed the courtesan to the second floor. Huang became more aware of Constable Wu’s heavy step behind him. Just ahead of him, Magistrate Li was chattering about music.
“Our household employed an old musician who played the pipa,” Li was saying. “He tried to teach me once, but I had no talent for it.”
The magistrate was filling the silence with nonsense—this from a man known for being very skilled with words. They halted at a door midway down the hall and Mei met his eyes briefly, before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.
As he followed Magistrate Li into the chamber, Huang was very much aware they had gone directly to the quarters without any question or introduction. He also knew who typically entertained in these rooms. The sitting area was empty, but the curtain to the inner chamber was open.
Huilan was lying on the bed, her head thrown back.
Huang went to her. Her name caught in his throat, his head pounding while he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. A faint hope flickered in him as he took hold of her wrist, but he already knew. He had known the moment he’d seen her. Huilan’s complexion was no longer moon-pale and luminous. It was colorless. The stillness about her went beyond sleep. There was no way to describe it, but he recognized the aberration of it immediately.
He sank down to his knees on the floor, unable to take his eyes off her. Her throat was bruised. Someone had ruined it forever. She would never sing again.
“She’s dead,” he said heavily, a part of him feeling dead as well. He’d just seen her that morning.
“You knew her?” Magistrate Li asked.
“Everyone knew Huilan,” he replied sharply. “She was one of the Four Beauties.”
The other two men were watching impassively by the door. Huang clenched his fists as anger heated his veins. They had known Huilan was dead and brought him there to watch his reaction. She’d been left alone all this time.
A knot formed in his chest. He was confused and horrified and at a loss for anything intelligent to say.
“Perhaps you should come out here,” Magistrate Li suggested quietly.
Huang nodded. He took one final look at Huilan. She was the youngest of the Beauties. Her cheeks were gently rounded, which evoked a fresh-faced innocence. The violence was all the worse for that.
* * *
“DID YOU SPEAK with Huilan earlier today?” Magistrate Li asked.
They were in the sitting room just outside the courtesan’s chamber. Huang looked up from his tea, which had gone cold. “At the Grand Canal during the race.”
Li nodded gravely. “She was so full of youth and beauty. Such a tragedy. Do you come to the Hundred Songs often?”
“Once in a while. Huilan sang the last time I was here.”
Huang ran a hand over his face. Huilan had been evasive that morning, but he should have insisted she explain herself. He should have never let her leave alone. He should have remembered the look of fear in her eyes when they’d first spoken.
“Were you her lover?” Li continued.
So this was an interrogation, then.
Huang straightened and met Magistrate Li eye to eye. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Well acquainted, then.”
Li was grasping at something. The constable came forward from his station in the corner and held out a folded paper. Magistrate Li looked it over before placing it onto the table between them.
“This was found lying beside Lady Huilan’s bed.” His finger rested over the red seal stamped onto the paper. “Is this your family’s mark?”
Huang knew what it was without looking. The paper he’d given Huilan was an official permit used to travel outside the gated wards after curfew.
“Did she use this to go to you at night?”
“I told you, we were not lovers,” he said evenly.
Magistrate Li stared him down. “How did Lady Huilan come to possess this pass?”
“She must have taken it from me.”
“Without your knowledge?”
His lips lifted sardonically. “I often drink too much.”
Huilan had asked for his help to leave the quarter. He often moved freely through the wards at night, one of the privileges of the aristocracy, and he’d assumed that was why she’d gone to him.
“Madame Lui can speak to the extent of my association with Lady Huilan,” Huang said. “The life of a courtesan isn’t very private.”
At that moment, the headmistress entered with Mei and a younger girl, two of Huilan’s courtesan-sisters. There were tears in the older woman’s eyes.
“Madame Lui.”
She clasped her hands around his. “You find who did this. She was like a daughter to me!”
Madame Lui had been a great beauty herself in her youth and remained a handsome woman now, despite the redness around her eyes. She sniffed into a handkerchief.
Magistrate Li came over from the sitting area and addressed Mei. “I understand that you were the first to find her.”
The young courtesan nodded. “We were entertaining a large party in the banquet room. Huilan was acting as hostess while I was there to assist her. Everyone was in a happy mood and drinking wine for the festival. After an hour, Huilan complained of a headache. She told me to play a song and keep the party occupied while she went upstairs to rest for a little while, but she was gone for so long I finally went up to check on her. The moment I opened the door, I knew she wasn’t sleeping.” Mei’s voice cracked and she buried her face in her hands.
Magistrate Li gave her a moment before continuing. “Miss, who was in the banquet room?”
“Commissioner Ma and a few of his friends. I...I don’t remember everyone’s name.” She looked helplessly to Madame Lui.
“They are all regular patrons who have come here many times,” the headmistress told them.
Huang wondered why the second girl had been brought in, but Magistrate Li didn’t question her the same way he had spoken to Mei. Instead, the constable went to her. Towering a full head and shoulders over the younger girl, he spoke to her in a quiet tone. She looked over at Huang and shook her head.
Li turned back to him. “I apologize for intruding, Lord Bai. You understand such questions must be asked. We must continue our conversation at another time.”
He bowed in kind. “Of course, Magistrate Li.”
If it weren’t for his lineage, Huang was certain he would have been dragged to the prison house. He started toward the do
or, trying to remember everything Huilan had told him. As he passed an end table he noticed a writing box lying open behind the vase. The brush had been set over the top of the case and the ink appeared fresh.
Li Yen’s voice rang after him. “Before you go, Lord Bai.”
He turned to see both men watching him.
“I should ask you where you were earlier this evening—as a matter of procedure, of course,” Li assured him.
“At the Lotus Palace,” he replied easily. “Conversing with the magistrate himself.”
“Yes, but I do recall you were a bit late arriving.”
“I had forgotten.” Huang faced him without flinching. “I was delightfully delayed downstairs. A conversation with a charming young lady.”
He had followed Yue-ying into the wine cellar hoping for a private moment away from the parlors and banquets. The plan was to be charming, to humble himself, make her laugh. But he had been mistaken about how he’d be received. Apparently, he was mistaken about many things lately.
“Ah, your alley cat?” Li recalled.
“Yes.” Now was not the time to play the fool. “The very same creature.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS AN obsessed patron who had done it.
It was a thief who was interrupted while trying to steal her jewels.
It was the ghost of a scholar who had killed himself out of love for her.
Or maybe it was a jealous rival, who saw how the young and talented Huilan was rising in popularity in the North Hamlet.
“Nonsense!” Mingyu snorted when Yue-ying recounted all the theories she’d heard.
“About the ghost or—”
“The gossipmongers always have to infuse rivalry into everything. As if we’re filled with envy and ready to tear at each other just because we’re women. I’m devastated by Huilan’s death. She was so sweet-natured to everyone.”
Mingyu appeared genuinely distraught as Yue-ying finished pinning her hair. She chose an understated look for Mingyu today, foregoing ornaments and jewels in her hair and only using a light trace of color on her lips and cheeks. They had found out the day before about Huilan’s death and the entire quarter was in mourning.
