The Lotus Palace

by Jeannie Lin

  After he finished his tea, Madame Lui led him up to the apartments. Though she opened the door for him, she remained outside in the hall, daring to only peek in. Huang was careful to scan the room before stepping inside.

  From the outer parlor, nothing appeared to have changed since the tragic night. The magistrate and the constable had searched the chambers, but he doubted anyone had come into the room since.

  “What did the footsteps sound like?” he asked, peering into the bedchamber. Ghost or no ghost, he felt a shudder run down his spine at the sight of the bed. He couldn’t forget the image of Huilan stretched lifelessly across it.

  “They were muffled,” Madame Lui called out. She was still hovering outside the door. “They moved quickly and then suddenly stopped.”

  Huang paused at the window. The shutters were closed and he took the trouble of opening them to peer down into the lane below. He pulled them shut before returning to Madame Lui.

  “I have a request. I know it may be too much to ask.”

  “Anything,” Madame Lui insisted. “Lord Bai has been so kind to us.”

  “May I stay here tonight?”

  The headmistress looked startled. “Of course, my lord, but—”

  She must have thought better of whatever question she wanted to ask. It was an odd request, but not too outrageous. And he was known for indulging in whimsical pursuits.

  He shared the evening meal with Madame Lui downstairs. They were joined by the lovely Mei, who was the leading lady of the Hundred Songs now that her courtesan-sister was gone. Though the mourning period was hardly a time for flirtation, Mei took pains to be charmingly attentive while Madame Lui prodded her to refill his wine cup and place choice morsels onto his plate.

  Quite early in the evening, Huang excused himself, claiming he’d had a tiring day. The entire household gathered to watch him go up the stairs. It was eerie; all the ladies dressed in white mourning robes, their dark eyes wide and fixed onto him.

  He took only a single lantern with him. Once inside, he closed the doors and looked about the parlor. It remained a mausoleum to Huilan. Her writing was still on the walls alongside verses from her admirers.

  Moving to the inner chamber, Huang looked briefly through what was left of Huilan’s personal belongings for any hint to what had happened to her. He found only womanly things: hairpins, jars of cosmetics and articles of clothing packed away in a dresser.

  There was one change from the last time he’d been in the room. Her writing box lay on top of the desk now instead of out in the sitting room and the brush had been cleaned. A few sheets of colored paper remained inside. The brush had been damp with ink the night of Huilan’s death. She must have been writing a letter of some sort, but all of the papers in the box were blank. Anything of interest had probably been confiscated by the constable during his investigation.

  With his brief search completed, Huang extinguished the lantern and lay back on the bed to wait. The room was left in darkness, without even the glimmer of the moon to accompany him. In the stillness, he could indeed sense Huilan’s spirit. Not her ghost. Not the chill of the air or any pale, wispy visions. Rather, he felt the brief and tenuous way she’d affected him. His resolve strengthened as he lay in the same place where she took her last breath. As eerie as it was, it grounded him.

  Yue-ying and likely the entire Pingkang li now suspected him of being Huilan’s lover, but he’d only spoken with her a few times. She had asked for his help, but had been reluctant to give him details. She didn’t yet know if she could trust him. When someone went looking for someone to rely on, they certainly didn’t think of Bai Huang.

  “I’ll find who did this to you,” he said to the darkness. “I swear it.”

  The moment he finished speaking, he heard the scraping sound of nails against wood. He wasn’t one to be afraid of ghosts, but his heart hurtled against his chest and he shot up into a sitting position.

  The sound came from outside. The shutters creaked as they swung open and a sliver of moonlight spilled into the chamber. He held himself still, holding his breath, as a hand appeared, then an arm. Soon the entire silhouette of a person stepped from the window onto the floor.

  He launched himself at the black figure, colliding with arms and legs and something very definitely corporeal.

  “On my mother!” the intruder cried before Huang clamped a hand over his mouth.

  The man was slight of build. Huang pinned him facedown to the floor with his knee lodged between the man’s shoulder blades. The sound of footsteps rushed toward them out in the hallway.

  “Lord Bai!” Madame Lui’s voice trembled with alarm from the other side of the chamber door.

  “It’s nothing,” he called out, affecting a laugh while keeping a lock on the intruder’s arm. “I fell down in the dark. Quite embarrassing.”

  “Do you...do you need anything?” Propriety and the fear of ghosts kept the ladies from entering.

  “I’m fine. Back in bed now. My apologies for startling you.” He gave the intruder a warning shove, pressing his face against the floorboards when the man started to struggle.

  Once the footsteps receded, he let go of the man’s head, allowing him to raise it from the floor.

  “Who are you?” the stranger demanded.

  “Who am I? I should be asking you that question.”

  The man didn’t answer. Huang had noted the tree just outside of Huilan’s window and figured out how the “ghost” had gotten inside. The first time the women had heard footsteps, the intruder must have made it to the hallway, before being startled by Madame Lui, after which he ran back to the room and out the window again.

  “Did you not hear me?” Huang shook him roughly. “Who are you and what business do you have here?”

  “I’m not a thief. I came because—” His voice broke and the next part came out rough with emotion. “Because I wanted to see Huilan one last time.”

  * * *

  HUANG LIT THE LANTERN. He even managed to procure a flask of wine and some cups from a cabinet in the parlor. Then he poured the wine and let the heartbroken stranger do most of the talking. His name was Wen Tse-kang. From his robe, he appeared to be a student. From the roundness in his cheeks, he appeared to be from one of the younger classes.

  “I loved her.” Tse-kang let his tears fall down his face without shame. “We loved each other.”

  “You know what happened to her,” Huang said, keeping his tone neutral.

  “I heard of the news the morning after. Some of my colleagues were whispering about a beautiful courtesan who had been tragically killed. I ran all the way here, praying it wasn’t Huilan, telling myself that in no way could it be her. But it was.” He covered his face as his features twisted with grief.

  Huang’s instinct told him this student wasn’t the murderer. His grief and confusion were genuine. But at the same time, he remembered Yue-ying’s warning about lovers being capable of violence. All it took was one moment of blind passion. They couldn’t be so quick to dismiss anyone from the list of suspects.

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  Tse-kang looked up, as if just seeing Huang for the first time. “Are you one of her patrons? I don’t care if you have me arrested and beaten. I still don’t regret coming here.”

  Definitely a youthful and impassioned scholar.

  “I’m not one of her patrons, but I do have some influence in the North Hamlet,” he lied. “I’m not going to have you arrested as long as you tell me everything I want to know.”

  “The last time I saw her was at the dragonboat races by the canal. I had only a moment to speak to her. She looked beautiful that day. She always looked so beautiful.” The young scholar stared down at his hands. “I don’t know why she ever looked at me twice.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  Tse-kang looked directly at him as if he had nothing left in the world to fear. “I told her the preparations were ready. That we could go that night. That was our
plan—her plan. She was going to leave this place and we would go together. Get married.” His chin lifted defiantly. “We were supposed to meet at the bridge by the temple, but she never came. I thought she had changed her mind.”

  The plan sounded plausible. There was more freedom to move about at night during festivals. Huilan had the pass that he had provided in order to get through the ward gates, but there was still the vastness of the city to contend with and then the open road beyond that.

  “When did she start talking about leaving the capital?”

  Tse-kang thought back. “Maybe a month ago. The first time she brought it up briefly when we met at the bridge. I protested that my studies weren’t finished. What could I have to offer a woman like her as a failed student?”

  Huang shifted in his seat, being the quintessential failed student himself, but said nothing.

  “Huilan brushed the suggestion aside so quickly that I assumed she had been daydreaming. But the next time we met, she had thought of the details. She would sell her jewels and find a boat going east. She would hire a bodyguard if she had to. It sounded so dangerous, I knew I couldn’t let her go alone. So we started planning to leave together.”

  Huilan would have needed a considerable amount of money, much more than she could have collected from pawning a few jewels or silken robes, yet she hadn’t asked him for any silver when they had struck their bargain.

  “Did Huilan tell you why she had to leave so quickly?”

  “I just thought she wanted a new life.” Tse-kang wiped his face with a sleeve. “She wanted to be free.”

  * * *

  “ANOTHER POOR SCHOLAR fantasizes about a beautiful courtesan falling hopelessly in love with him,” Yue-ying pronounced the next day with a roll of her eyes. “You know those romantic tales are all written by men.”

  Huang smiled. “Poor scholars need something to aspire to.”

  They were sitting on the second floor of a busy teahouse in the East Market. Yue-ying had insisted they meet there rather than at the Lotus or in the three lanes of the Pingkang li.

  “There are certainly women who want to leave the North Hamlet and certainly many of them dream of becoming a wealthy man’s wife or concubine.” She tucked her hair behind her ear as she spoke. “But an elite courtesan doesn’t dream of running away with a humble scholar blindly out of love. Huilan had many admirers. She had a level of security and comfort and a reputation within the Pingkang li which she had rightfully earned.”

  No matter how much Huang thought he knew the courtesans of the North Hamlet, no matter what their public personas might reveal, they kept part of themselves guarded away. That was why he needed Yue-ying’s insight.

  “So something happened a month ago,” he continued. “Something that worried her. She needed to leave here fairly quickly.”

  “Madame Lui would have a record of all of Huilan’s engagements and visitors.” She paused to think. “There was a banquet around midspring. I remember this gathering because Huilan forgot the words to a song. She was very upset by it.”

  Huang frowned. “It was about that time when she first approached me.”

  He had been drinking at the Hundred Songs with a couple of midlevel bureaucrats and Huilan had appeared through the curtain like a goddess through the clouds.

  “I tried to think of something suitably impressive to say,” he recalled. “She was known as the Orchid of Silla so I attempted to tell her she was beautiful in the language of Silla.”

  Yue-ying was taken aback. “You speak Sillan?”

  Too late he realized his mistake. The know-nothing Bai Huang wouldn’t have such a command of languages. “I once encountered some dignitaries visiting from the Kingdom of Silla in a drinking house. I learned a few choice phrases over wine—though most of them weren’t exactly respectable.”

  She seemed satisfied with his explanation, or rather annoyed with it. Which meant she believed him. For some reason, he wasn’t at all relieved.

  “Huilan wasn’t really from the Kingdom of Silla,” she said impatiently. “It’s merely a story that Madame Lui conjured up to lend an air of exoticism to her prize courtesan.”

  “Well, Huilan did reply in Sillan,” he noted. “We exchanged a few pleasantries, before speaking in Han again. At first there was nothing unusual about the conversation. She inquired about my family and my travels outside of Changan. Then she asked about leaving the ward.”

  “Could she have been looking for you to redeem her?” Yue-ying asked, sipping her tea.

  “I thought so at first, but she had wealthy protectors already.”

  “It’s quite a different thing for an admirer to visit a courtesan in the entertainment district as opposed to bringing her home as a concubine,” she pointed out. “As far as I know, no one had made a bid for her.”

  “Do you ever think of it?”

  “Of what?”

  “Of leaving the Pingkang li.”

  “I don’t spend time dreaming, Lord Bai.” She smoothed her hair down over the side of her face, her fingers just grazing over her birthmark. “Besides, I have a good life here. What did you want to know about the gathering?”

  He could see why she was overlooked in the shadow of her famous mistress. Not because of her appearance. Mingyu had a softly curved and sultry beauty whereas Yue-ying was thinner in the face, fine-boned with a restrained sensuality that intrigued him. But Yue-ying was constantly hiding herself, trying to make herself small. Even in conversation, she couldn’t stand to speak of herself for more than a few words at a time.

  That brief moment when their lips had touched in the wine cellar continued to torment him. His heart had been pounding, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation before she had soundly put him in his place with a slap across the face. He had thought he was finally getting close to Yue-ying, when he was never further away.

  “Who was there at the banquet?” he asked, forcing himself back to the matter at hand.

  “The banquet was sponsored by an official from the Ministry of Commerce. There were merchants and wealthy businessmen in attendance.” Yue-ying rubbed a hand over her temples. “Will you add those to the names from the Hundred Songs? The list keeps growing.”

  They both sipped their tea, temporarily at a standstill. It was possible Huilan had seen or heard something important. Influence was traded at such gatherings. Secrets were exchanged. It was one of the reasons Huang spent so much time wandering happily from parlor to parlor. If only Huilan had seen fit to confide in him. If only everyone in the North Hamlet didn’t speak in such cursed riddles all the time.

  “Let us concentrate on this gathering for now. Tell me everything you can remember about Huilan that night.”

  He’d seen how carefully Yue-ying observed everyone and everything around her. If something significant had occurred, she would have made note of it; he was confident of that.

  Yue-ying placed her palms together and propped her chin on top of them, eyes closed. He watched with fascination as the thoughts flitted across her face.

  “The event was located on a pleasure boat docked in a waterway to the north of the East Market. I didn’t recognize most of the guests. Some of them were from foreign lands.” When she opened her eyes, her expression appeared troubled. Her fingers traced a restless pattern over the wood, back and forth. “I left early that night. I had forgotten about that.”

  “You said Huilan was upset,” he prodded.

  His question snapped her back to attention. “It was strange. Huilan was playing the pipa and she stopped midsong. Something had distracted her. She finally managed to finish the song, but she was very flustered afterward. Mingyu tried to calm her. I think that was when Mingyu decided she had too many problems to worry about and sent me home.”

  “Problems?”

  “I’m afraid of boats,” she confessed. She moved on quickly. “Mingyu returned later that night, but didn’t say anything. She was exhausted because it was so late.”

  “Did you
notice anything at the banquet that might have made Huilan nervous?”

  “Not particularly. Maybe someone said something untoward to her. Merchants can be a crude lot. Many of them are too uncultured to know the difference between a courtesan and a prostitute.”

  Once again, her hand strayed to her cheek. He had watched over the past half hour while she absently tucked, untucked and rearranged her hair, inadvertently drawing attention to the part of her she most wanted to obscure. The bloodred mark that made her so unique. She was always fidgeting and trying to cover her face or angle herself away. Unable to ignore it any longer, he reached out and pressed his hand gently over hers to stop her.

  Huang knew he’d made a mistake when her fingers stiffened beneath his touch and she pulled away entirely, sitting as far back in her chair as she could, shoulders straight. “I should be getting back.”

  He paid for the tea and had to make an extra effort to follow her as she deftly wove around the tables and moved down the stairs. He caught up to her, but remained silent as he matched her pace down the street.

  “If people see us together in the North Hamlet, there will be talk,” she said, keeping her focus straight ahead.

  He was forced to direct his statement to her unmovable, unwavering profile. “You don’t have to worry about your reputation with me.”

  There was a pause before she pulled ahead. He caught only the trailing end of her reply.

  “I am more concerned with what people will think of you, Lord Bai.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HUANG WENT TO the gambling den on a different night this week. Let the unpleasant Constable Wu ponder about that.

  He still lit a candle and set it behind the dealer before taking his seat. He also had his usual sacrifice of a thousand coins, held together by strings of a hundred. There was additional silver in his purse tonight and he could feel it weighing on him. It was a dangerous temptation for him to bring so much money near a dice table, but he needed information.

  The dealer greeted him with a toothy smile. Huang tossed a string of coins onto the square marked “High”, not bothering to untie it to parcel out a smaller bet. He gave another string to the dealer.