The Lotus Palace

by Jeannie Lin

  “Was it so bad, then?” he asked.

  She did look at him then, meeting his eyes squarely. “It was.”

  His unwavering confidence could mean only two things. Either he was deluded about his own abilities, or his clumsiness had been intentional.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked him.

  His gaze flicked away briefly, then came back to her. He had strong, distinctive features; eyes that were set deep and a nose that was well-defined. His mouth was full and perfectly shaped. A face like that could truly get away with anything.

  “I suppose I wanted to see what would happen,” he said quietly.

  “That’s the problem with men like you. This sort of thing is a game, as if you had a right to everything in the world for your amusement.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You only meant to tease. You have the privilege of turning everything into a jest when I’ve never had the privilege to even refuse such an act.”

  She hadn’t intended to become so aggravated. Bai Huang was silent beside her while she tried to calm herself.

  “I didn’t consider it that way,” he said finally.

  She didn’t acknowledge his words. If it was an apology, and it didn’t sound like one, she wouldn’t accept it.

  “Have you never—?” To his credit, he continued past her cold stare. “Have you never had a kiss that you actually wanted?”

  “Why would I ever want such a thing?” she replied sharply.

  Any man who had ever touched her had held something over her. Money or status and usually both. And always the threat of his physical strength. They hadn’t all been brutes or drunks. A few were even kind, in their own way. Most were indifferent. In many ways, a kiss was more of an invasion than a body pressing over her. It was the touching of mouths, the exchange of breath. Too much was woven into a kiss; all the senses of touch, taste and sound. There was no way for her to explain how she had been overwhelmed by it all.

  “I’ve been a bastard of the worst kind,” Bai Huang conceded.

  She made a noncommittal sound and looked out once again to the rain. Such afternoon downpours were unpredictable and usually brief, but this one conspired against her and continued relentlessly.

  “You won’t let me apologize, will you?”

  She sighed. “Let us talk about something else.”

  More rain. More silence.

  “Perhaps there is a way I can set things right between us.”

  Now it was her turn to laugh. A ringing melody poured out of her, cutting through the patter of the water.

  “Miss Yue-ying.” For the first time, he appeared a bit put out by her reaction.

  “Shall I guess how you want to set things right?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting skeptically.

  Bai Huang wasn’t a bad fellow, she’d decided. And he wasn’t at all like the face he insisted on presenting to the world. But he was still drearily predictable.

  “Here,” he continued undaunted. He turned around, placing his hands behind him to grip the railing as he leaned back into it. “I won’t subject you to another kiss since you find my technique...somewhat objectionable.” His smirk was directed at himself as much as at her. “My hands will remain right here. I’ll be a statue. I’ll even close my eyes...if that’s what you want.”

  “It’s not that I’m afraid of you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And a man accepting a kiss as ‘punishment’ has to be the most overplayed parlor trick since the time of the First Emperor. Next to accepting a drink as punishment. Oh, the torture of it!”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it. This is merely a chance for you to know what it is to have a kiss you were in complete control of.”

  “It’s hardly the same. You’re still allowing me this liberty, as if it were a gift you were bestowing.”

  “Miss Yue-ying,” he sighed. “Show some mercy.”

  At least he understood what he offered wasn’t in any way equal. It was just another game, another tease. He was still holding on to the rail, looking eagerly on like a pale-faced scholar as he regarded her. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her gaze on him.

  He scowled. “Well, I’m feeling more and more ridiculous the longer you refuse. Surely my embarrassment can provide you with some sense of retribution.”

  She knew she was being harsh, holding this one moment over him. She’d already hit him after he’d stolen that first kiss. The scratch on his cheek was finally fading. She could only detect it when she looked closely at him, as she was doing now.

  Bai Huang, the most beautiful man in the Pingkang li, was watching her and asking her with his eyes to kiss him. It wasn’t that she was afraid. Or so cold and broken inside that the mere thought of men horrified her. Bai Huang didn’t horrify her. Most of the girls in the North Hamlet even found him somewhat charming.

  Straightening her spine, she approached him in even strides. She told herself she would do it without any sign of hesitation. She would do it callously, as if it meant nothing more than the parlor games he indulged in.

  Bai Huang’s gaze didn’t leave her as she neared. He swallowed forcibly, the knot in his throat lifting. She could see that his breathing had quickened. Though he had promised not to move, an exhalation parted his lips and her hand trembled as she braced it onto the rail beside him.

  She had never done this before, she realized a moment before she pressed her lips onto his.

  His mouth was warm and yielded only a little as she moved closer. She parted her lips to test the texture of his lips and, with the smallest touch of her tongue, the taste of the kiss. She could sense the shudder that traveled through him. It made her breath catch and her stomach flutter with excitement.

  This was a gift indeed, but not one that he gave to her. It was a gift that she took for herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IN THE THREE steps it took Yue-ying to reach him, Huang dreamed a hundred dreams about how her lips would feel against him. Would she be soft and timid? Would she be passionate, burning like fire? Or both? Timid one moment, and full of desire and passion the next. He hoped it was both.

  Yue-ying was right. His thoughtless gesture in the wine cellar had prevented them from discovering these truths together, but they could correct that now.

  She was beside him, the rain and the pavilion blurring around her as his field of vision narrowed down to only her. Even though he was leaning against the rail, she still had to raise herself onto her toes to reach him. And then his breath stopped as her soft mouth pressed against his.

  He had kissed many women and been kissed in return. This first touch with Yue-ying was the sweetest of them all, and he couldn’t even say why. She was neither timid, nor bold. She was just as she was, single-minded and relentless when she wanted to know something.

  Her mouth was warm, sensual, perfect and...gone.

  Huang was left blinking and at a loss. It took a moment for his breath to return and for him to realize that she had left the shelter of the pavilion. Straightening, he turned to see Yue-ying walking away, but she wasn’t fleeing. Her step was as unrushed as her kiss had been.

  She stopped to raise her face to the rain, eyes closed, triumphant. She had driven him mad and now she was done with him. At that moment, he would have wrestled tigers to have her.

  He pressed a hand to his chest, looking on in wonder as she disappeared.

  Huang was still smiling a while later, despite the rain, despite the grayness of the skies, as he crossed the wide avenue that separated the scholars’ area from the Pingkang li. His robe was soaked through by the time he reached his rented quarters. As soon as he entered, the downpour ceased.

  It was poetic.

  The modestly sized house was arranged around a courtyard. His landlady was an old widow who kept to a room at the back of the residence while he was left with a study and bedchamber at the front. A familiar figure was hunched beneath the overhang outside the study.

  “How long have
you been waiting here?”

  Zhou Dan straightened as he approached. “An hour. The elder Lord Bai has just returned. He’s waiting for you at the house.”

  “My father? Here?”

  Huang pushed into his chamber to change, his thoughts awhirl. What was his father doing back at the capital? Pleasant memories of Yue-ying had to be set aside for now until he could find out.

  Zhou Dan remained by the door while he watched Huang unwrapping himself from his damp robe.

  “You need an attendant,” the servant suggested. “And a bodyguard as well. To protect you from all the beautiful ladies of the pleasure district.”

  Huang snorted. “You’re no match for them.”

  He finished undressing and pulled on dry trousers and a new robe. A much more understated and serious outfit this time, suited for appearing before his family. No need for a display of extravagance in their own home.

  The carriage was hitched at the side of the house and Zhou Dan took the reins as Bai Huang seated himself. The family mansion was located in the northeastern corner of the city, in the exclusive quadrant between the administration section and the imperial palace. By carriage, it was over an hour away. For the work that he was doing, it had been necessary for Huang to take rooms much closer to the North Hamlet.

  The lanes were muddy, but relatively empty. The carts and pedestrians hadn’t yet reclaimed the streets since the break in the rainfall. The carriage took them to the front gate of the mansion.

  Their house was a spacious compound, organized around a double-courtyard layout with wide bays along the perimeter that housed the living areas. Father’s studio was located in the second courtyard, built in a location with good light and a view of the garden.

  Father was seated behind his desk while Wei-wei, Huang’s younger sister, sat across from him. They were discussing the contents of a scroll that lay open between them.

  “Very good,” Father said to Wei-wei before glancing up at him. “Huang, come inside.”

  He entered and bowed to Father. Wei-wei immediately stood to greet him.

  “Elder brother, you look well.”

  “As do you, sister.”

  It was all very proper.

  Father rolled up the scroll. “Your younger brother’s commentary on the Classic of Filial Piety,” he explained. “Wei-wei reports that he is progressing well in his studies. This makes me very happy.”

  Huang caught the proud gleam in his sister’s eye before she bowed to their father and retreated.

  He and Wei-wei were more relaxed around one another when it was just the two of them, but before their parents they treated one another with respectful formality, the very same way that Father acted with Mother.

  Huang shut the studio door before seating himself. “I didn’t expect Father’s return so soon.”

  His father had dark shadows beneath his eyes, as if he’d traveled long days with little sleep. “As you are aware, the mourning period has ended for the late emperor. Emperor Xuanzong has summoned a number of officials to the capital.”

  “This could be good,” Huang ventured.

  “Or it could be bad.”

  Father was as he always was. He made no assumptions, revealed nothing and was prepared for any outcome. It left them both to wonder how Father had raised a son who was both impulsive and reckless. But Huang was finally learning how to exercise discipline. He was trying to show himself worthy of his name.

  “What news do you have?” Father asked.

  Huang had been assigned the task of reporting on the activities of several key officials who Father thought might threaten the balance of power in the imperial court.

  “General Deng has returned to the capital as well,” he began.

  Father frowned. “Our informants were not aware of that.”

  “He is supposedly visiting the hot springs with his favorite courtesan.”

  “I will have that looked into immediately. Good work.”

  At one time, both his father and Deng had been influential officials within the capital. Father had feared for many years now that General Deng was plotting against the empire. It became much harder to watch over the general when he was promoted to military governor and sent to the south, but Deng continued to maintain contacts within the capital—one of them being Lady Mingyu, his favored courtesan and lover.

  “And the new magistrate?” Father continued.

  “Li Yen is soft-spoken, careful with his words. Hard to read.”

  “Does he seem like an honest official?”

  “He seems dedicated to his duties.” Huang considered holding back about Huilan’s murder and how the magistrate was targeting him in the investigation, but he had to tell his father the truth. He explained the matter briefly. “Lady Huilan claimed to have some information I would be interested to know,” he concluded.

  At the time he had wondered why Huilan would offer him information. As far as everyone knew, the fool Bai Huang only cared about having a good time.

  “Huang.” Father shook his head. “You must take care. Our family name has suffered enough.”

  “I know.”

  “And don’t become too involved with the pleasure quarter. Too many scholars become caught by its trap.”

  “I understand.”

  After all he had cost his family with his debt, after all the anguish they had gone through on his behalf, it would have been disrespectful to do anything but acknowledge his culpability.

  To Father, the North Hamlet was a place of dubious morality and untold danger—a world to be kept strictly apart from home and family. Huang had fallen to its temptations before, but it was the dice that had caught him, not the women.

  “Is there anything else, Huang?”

  “No, Father.”

  He purposefully left out his vow to find the killer. That was a personal matter and a local crime was of little interest. His father’s main concern was the defense of the empire.

  “Your mother will expect us for the evening meal shortly. I have several matters to take care of before then.”

  Huang bowed to take his leave. Before he exited the studio, his father was already reading through a stack of notices.

  Dinner was a long, drawn-out ordeal. Mother and Father sat at the table along with Huang, Wei-wei and their younger brother, Chang-min. The dishes were brought out silently by the servants and set before them, one course after another.

  Mother asked brief questions about how Father was getting along in the house in Fujian province. Was he well taken care of? Seeing to his health and not working too hard? She chose her words carefully so as not to appear prying or interfering. Huang and Wei-wei answered the occasional question when asked. Chang-min, who was only sixteen, did not have a word to say the entire meal.

  Both Father and Mother talked in circles around her, that woman, the concubine whom Father had brought with him to Fujian province. Huang had met Lady Shang during his time of exile from the capital. He couldn’t say much about Father’s concubine other than that she was respectful, quiet and cultured. She was also much younger than Mother.

  He wondered whether Chang-min even realized that this woman who was not mentioned was his actual birth mother. His younger brother had been only four years old when he was brought to the family mansion to be raised and educated.

  The evening was full of heavy silences and endless pauses. Whenever the entire family came together, it seemed they spoke more in pauses than words. It made him long for the wine and music of the Pingkang li, dubious morality and all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ONE DAY BACK in the city and Mingyu’s parlor was already well attended. Huang noted that Taizhu, the old historian, was there as usual. There were also several notable scholars, one who had passed the exams in the highest rank, but who was still vying for an appointment. The center of the gathering was a secretary from the Ministry of Personnel. Not a position of any true authority, but he had the ability to mention a name to someone with a bigger name.
Appointments were procured in such varied and sundry ways.

  There was no talk of appointments at the moment. Mingyu had instigated a drinking game around couplets from popular poems. The party turned to greet him and Huang inserted himself into the gathering with a couple of wrong guesses.

  “Penalty drink!” the secretary proclaimed.

  Huang took his punishment in good spirit, searching the room as he drank. Yue-ying hovered in the corner of the parlor. She met his gaze only briefly before disappearing behind the screen into the inner chamber. That one look alone set his pulse racing.

  After a few more rounds, he’d finished enough wine that Yue-ying finally appeared to bring more. It tormented him not to be able to look at her or even touch her sleeve. Instead, he kept his focus on Mingyu, who was watching him like a hawk.

  “Your absence left such an emptiness in the North Hamlet,” he told the courtesan. “The days you were gone were filled with rain.”

  “Oh, but surely you exaggerate, Lord Bai. You must have been breaking hearts all over the quarter while I was away,” Mingyu countered readily.

  “More like having my heart broken.”

  He raised his cup in tribute to Mingyu. She met his gesture with a cool nod that accentuated the graceful arch of her neck. The courtesan was the essence of cultivation and beauty, yet he was more transfixed by the dark shape behind the screen in the corner. Yue-ying had retreated behind it, but he could just make out her silhouette out of the corner of his eye.

  “If you could provide the next couplet,” Mingyu prompted.

  “With pleasure.”

  He selected a couplet from a famous poem by Li Bai, which the secretary was able to match with ease. Huang downed another cup, feeling his blood warm.

  It became a maddening game; sipping wine and throwing out careless banter, while each flicker of the shadow behind the screen made his heart pound and his stomach knot with anticipation. One candle burned down to a stub and then another. Each one marked an additional string of cash to be paid to the pleasure house. It was well past midnight when the party disbanded, leaving him alone in the parlor. He propped his head onto his fist to keep it up.