The Lotus Palace

by Jeannie Lin

  “Lord Bai.” Mingyu returned from seeing the other guests off and slid into the seat closest to him. “I must say, something seems to have gotten into your blood tonight.”

  “Only you,” he quipped dutifully.

  The courtesan smiled, but like his response it was only perfunctory. “You are certainly persistent.”

  Throughout his very public courtship of her, he had never found himself alone with Mingyu. It was time for him to be tactfully dismissed, otherwise he would start to get the wrong impression. Mingyu knew this. He knew this.

  “Sometimes I tire of all this rhetoric,” she drawled. “All the effort. All the cleverness.”

  Her arm dangled over the corner of her chair and she flexed her fingers carelessly as she spoke. As her shapely eyes narrowed on him he felt like a rat being cornered by a cat. A cat who had all the time in the world to play with its prey before ripping out its throat.

  He cleared his own throat. “It is because every one of us longs to catch—”

  She cut off his rambling reply with her hand against the crook of his arm. “There is something to be said for the simple pleasure of youth and beauty, wouldn’t you agree, Lord Bai?”

  His gaze started to wander to the painted screen in the corner, but Mingyu caught his chin between her thumb and forefinger to drag his eyes back to her. It was an impetuous gesture, overtly flirtatious and unmistakably aggressive.

  There could be only one explanation. She must have noticed his attention was elsewhere that evening.

  “Lady Mingyu, youth and beauty are only two of your many qualities,” he effused.

  She laughed. “Lord Bai, I certainly wasn’t speaking of myself.”

  On the surface, she really was everything that was feminine and desirable in a woman. Aside from her beauty, she was also sophisticated and intelligent, and most important of all, highly celebrated. Everything a scholar hoping to elevate his own reputation would want in a companion. Yet Huang was unmoved.

  Mingyu could be clever, sharp-witted and sharp-tongued. She could even be playful, but she was never warm. He had spied too many moments, like this one, when all her actions spoke of seduction, while her eyes were dead.

  She released his chin and let her fingers trail up along his cheek. “You must think me cruel,” she said softly.

  “Never.” He swallowed and not entirely for show. What sort of scheme was she plotting?

  “What if I told you, my dear Lord Bai, that my indifference all this time has been a ploy?”

  He eyed her warily. “Lady Mingyu—”

  She was leaning toward him and her red lips parted as she smiled. Damn it, she was provoking him and Yue-ying was behind the screen, listening to every word. What would Bai Huang the fool do? Quote bad poetry—except that none came to mind.

  He leaned toward her as if to catch her in a clumsy embrace, swinging his arm wide enough to knock over the flask of wine. Stammering out an apology, he reached out to right the vessel only to fumble with cups and plates in the process.

  In a heartbeat, Yue-ying was beside him, nudging him aside as she wiped at the spilled drink.

  “We must be in the Hour of the Ox,” he declared. “I seem to have turned into one.”

  His laughter rang out a little too loudly. Yue-ying kept her head bowed as she focused on her task. She had pulled her hair over one shoulder, exposing the line of her neck. The sight of it, so vulnerable and exposed, was enough to make his throat go dry with desire.

  It was only a neck, he chided himself. There was little more than a hand span of skin showing, pale against the cascade of black hair.

  Mingyu stood over them like the goddess of the night. “Yue-ying, if you would fetch a sedan for Lord Bai.” Her tone was smooth. “We don’t want him to meet any misfortune in his current state.”

  Yue-ying set the rag aside and stood to do her mistress’s bidding without a glance in his direction. He watched her slender figure disappear through the curtain before rising to his feet.

  “Lady Mingyu,” he said with a bow.

  “Lord Bai. Take care.”

  He thought he detected a devious lift of her eyebrow, but otherwise her expression was serene, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

  Outside, the lanterns of the North Hamlet were still burning. Yue-ying stood out in the side alley, pointedly not looking at him as he came up beside her.

  His grin spread a bit wider than he intended. “Little Moon—”

  He didn’t think it was possible, but her spine straightened further.

  “Miss Yue-ying,” he corrected himself. “I’ve waited all night for this moment.”

  “Oh?”

  That was it. One single utterance. Her pearl earring bobbed as she looked impatiently to the corner, presumably for the sedan.

  “I thought of you,” he said softly, watching for any reaction in the stiffness of her profile. “Every day.”

  “Say that when you are not drunk,” she retorted.

  He wasn’t, though she would hardly believe it. He had always been able to handle his drink a little bit better than those around him, which was handy for gathering information.

  “She was only doing that to make you angry. Apparently, Mingyu is a jealous woman.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. What does Mingyu have to be jealous of?”

  More bobbing of the earring. What he could see of her mouth was pressed into a tight line. He wanted to believe a woman couldn’t be so agitated with him if she didn’t at least care for him a little bit.

  “She’s jealous of anyone who takes any attention away from her,” he said. “She can’t stand to have anyone speak to even her maidservant in her presence. Don’t look, but I would wager she is watching us from her window.”

  He remained standing beside Yue-ying, his eyes focused ahead. He was regretting not kissing her to his heart’s content when he’d had the chance in the pavilion, but he had promised her the kiss was for her, not for him. Yet he hadn’t been able to forget the sweet restraint in her touch since.

  But she was hardly sweet now. “Don’t anger Mingyu. It would only make things more difficult for me.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.”

  The carrier had arrived to set the sedan chair down before him.

  “When can I see you?” he asked.

  “This isn’t a liaison between us, Lord Bai.”

  If the courtesan truly was watching over them from on high, he couldn’t delay much longer. “Tomorrow morning at the teahouse? I have information regarding our investigation.”

  Instead of answering, Yue-ying turned in a flurry of silk to march back into the Lotus Palace.

  * * *

  “WHAT INFORMATION?”

  Yue-ying remained standing as she watched that too-familiar grin spreading over Bai Huang’s face. It was a smile that could charm tigers. Youth and beauty indeed.

  “Please sit, Miss Yue-ying. I took care to order your favorite tea.”

  “I have no favorite.” When would he stop treating her as if she were another of the puppet goddesses of the pleasure quarter? “Tea is tea.”

  “You’re being difficult on purpose,” he pointed out lightly, still smiling.

  He stood and gestured toward the empty stool. She hesitated before seating herself. She had debated all night whether or not to come that day, changing her mind several times even within the past hour. Bai Huang poured the tea while she sat and tried not to fidget. The brew was fragrant and rich with layer upon layer of flavor. Such quality, his regard, and all this attention was beyond her. She didn’t know what to do with it.

  “The Market Commissioner Ma Jun is taking bribes,” he began.

  She was unimpressed. “What official doesn’t take bribes?”

  “But if Huilan found out about his associations and he didn’t want the authorities to know, then he might have killed her to keep her silent.”

  The investigation wasn’t the only reason Yue-ying had come. She kne
w it and he must have known it as well. He had chosen a place in the corner where they could talk with some privacy and his gaze was warm on her as they spoke.

  But favored sons of noblemen did not meet with lowly servants in the normal course of events. So they forged on with the discussion to maintain the illusion.

  “How did you find out about the bribes?” she asked as she considered his theory.

  “Apparently it’s common knowledge among the merchants and traders in the city...” His voice trailed away.

  “So many people already knew?”

  He continued with less confidence. “Commissioner Ma’s position is a low-level one, only able to grant small favors. In return, he seems to thrive off many small bribes.”

  “He’s likely paying up to his superior who’s paying up to his superior.”

  Bai Huang looked downtrodden. Like most aristocrats, he cared nothing for the details of trade and commerce. The merchant class and anything having to do with them were beneath him.

  “It certainly indicates that Ma Jun is an untrustworthy character,” she soothed, like pouring balm over a wounded creature.

  “I paid good money for that information,” he grumbled.

  “It’s useful information. The commissioner must have been showing off his status by hosting a lavish banquet. So everyone could see how wealthy and influential he was with beautiful courtesans on his arm.”

  He sighed. “You don’t need to make me feel better.”

  “He was Huilan’s lover. And now we’ve discovered that she had another lover. It can be as simple as that.”

  “She was killed because Ma Jun was merely jealous? That doesn’t seem fitting.”

  “There’s no need to look for conspiracy. Emotions become easily confused in the Pingkang li.” Her own emotions were in a tangle after their kiss in the park. Yue-ying tapped the rim of her teacup restlessly. “Last night you said Mingyu was jealous of me.”

  “She is.” A fire burned in his eyes. “Anyone can see it.”

  “You’re mistaken,” she said. “Mingyu is just worried about me.”

  Bai Huang waited for her to elaborate, but she refused to say more. What she and Mingyu had between them was a private matter.

  “She has nothing to worry about,” he assured her, the corner of his mouth lifting seductively. “Does she?”

  His pupils grew dark and her pulse quickened in response. “If there’s nothing else, I must return,” she said, deliberately avoiding the question.

  He considered her for a long, drawn-out moment, as if daring her to look away. She didn’t.

  “I’ll walk with you,” he offered.

  The journey back to the quarter should have been a short one. She was keenly aware of Bai Huang’s presence beside her every step of the way, knew exactly what was happening the moment he turned toward the public park instead of the Three Lanes. Without a word, he slipped beneath the shadow of a bridge and reeled her gently to him, like a dragonfly on a thread.

  Yue-ying was no innocent. She had no reason to be coy, so she followed him into the darkness and closed her eyes as he pressed her back against the stone foundation. Then he kissed her until she had no breath left in her.

  “We’re all the same to you. Any one of us will do,” she accused, breathing hard while she held on to him. His arms were strong and his shoulders surprisingly broad beneath the embroidered silk robe.

  His tongue traced her lips intimately, urging her to allow him inside. He invaded her mouth, tasting of tea and dark, sensual secrets.

  “Not the same,” he whispered a little later against her ear. His hands rounded her hips as she shuddered and her knees grew weak. “There is no one else like you. Do you want me to tell you all the ways in which you are only you?”

  For all her life, she had been separated out and denied because she was different. She’d been condemned for it.

  “No,” she said, pulling him closer. “Don’t say anything.”

  * * *

  THEY PARTED WAYS outside of the park, Bai Huang going north and she headed south. Her heart was still pounding and her lips were wonderfully, pleasantly flushed. If she looked over her shoulder, the moment would shatter, so she didn’t look back.

  Oh, she knew who Lord Bai was. He was the sort who found all women beautiful in some way, who liked to play his games of courtship on any willing recipient.

  Yue-ying had no reputation to protect and her virtue was long gone. And she had given up so much more to men who had meant so much less to her. Why not someone who was well mannered and well-spoken? Who was handsome and strong and who she was growing fond of?

  On some tomorrow, she would be old. Bai Huang would be just a name and a memory. Mingyu had so many admirers, yet she cared little for them. Yue-ying, the girl once cruelly called Half-Moon because of her ruined face, had no such admirers.

  So let me have this one, she thought with an air of defiance as she returned to the Lotus Palace. Even if it is just a game to him.

  But as she reached the North Hamlet the clouds before her eyes began to thin until they were nothing more than wisps easily swept away. She was late, unaccountably late. Yue-ying was short of breath by the time she reached the Lotus Palace.

  “Did you forget the time?” Mingyu asked as she entered the parlor.

  The question was unnecessary and they both knew it. Yue-ying was never forgetful. She was never careless. She said nothing as she set about preparing Mingyu for the evening. Mingyu said little in response, but a chill was evident in the dressing room.

  Unfortunately, an hour before they were to leave for the evening’s engagement, Mingyu insisted on having a bodyguard.

  “This banquet is far outside the North Hamlet. After what happened to Huilan, one can never know what dangers lay out there,” she said.

  Madame Sun was livid. “Stupid girl! What are you afraid of? Ghosts?”

  “I won’t set foot outside the door without protection.”

  Madame proceeded to plead and then threaten, but Mingyu would not hear it. She was the most celebrated of the Lotus Palace courtesans, commanding two and sometimes even three times the price of her sisters. It was impossible to send another girl to replace her.

  Unlike Madame, Yue-ying didn’t bother trying to convince Mingyu. The truth of the matter was that Mingyu was upset and, as a result, everyone around her had to suffer. Yue-ying left the two women arguing and hurried out to seek out a possible bodyguard. She could choose a laborer and pay him a few coins, but the prospect of entrusting themselves to a stranger struck her as being more dangerous than traveling alone.

  On a whim, she ventured toward the magistrate’s yamen and sought out the head constable.

  “Constable Wu,” she greeted.

  “Miss Yue-ying.”

  “If any of your constables are not on duty, may we hire him for the night?”

  His expression was severe. “It would be inappropriate for an appointed constable to take payment. It could be seen as a bribe.”

  “I apologize. I didn’t mean any insult.” She sighed wearily. “You see, a situation has come up—”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “No,” she said quickly, seeing how his frown deepened. “But my mistress refuses to go out tonight without protection. She seems to have been deeply affected by Huilan—by the incident at the Hundred Songs.”

  “Then the magistrate’s yamen holds some responsibility for that,” Wu said. “The murderer still has not been caught and it is our duty to do so in a timely manner. I will send someone over to assist you in an hour.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  She bowed and left the administrative compound to hurry back to the Lotus. Madame Sun was in the main parlor having tea. She was visibly agitated.

  “Everything is taken care of,” Yue-ying told her.

  Madame sniffed, but nodded. “Good.”

  Mingyu was up in her chamber, seated on a pillow with her zither placed before her on a low table. Her fingers
plucked ceaselessly at the strings. The tune was a strident one in the martial style that was meant to evoke battle and warfare. There were times when she was subtle in her moods. This was not one of them.

  Mingyu had started training in music, dance and calligraphy immediately after Madame Sun had taken her in. She had been twelve years old at the time, older than when many of the other courtesans began their rigorous education. Yue-ying had received no such instruction. Whereas Mingyu was considered ji, an artist and entertainer, Yue-ying had been chang, nothing more than a vessel, a whore.

  “The head constable said he would send someone,” Yue-ying said when there was a break in the music.

  Mingyu paused for a moment, then resumed playing. “Why Lord Bai?” she asked over the sigh of the strings.

  There was no denying where Yue-ying had spent the morning and she didn’t want to deny it.

  Over the past few years together, she and Mingyu had learned each other’s moods to every frown and flutter of an eyelash. The demand for a bodyguard and the entire tantrum with Madame was Mingyu’s way of showing her displeasure with Bai Huang. And Yue-ying had scrambled to accommodate her, driven by her own guilt.

  Mingyu was still waiting for an answer.

  “Lord Bai is a gentleman” was all Yue-ying could say. He didn’t treat her like a whore. He treated her as someone desirable, someone worthy of being pursued and courted.

  “Is it his wealth? His status?” The courtesan’s hands continued to move over the strings.

  “It’s not any of that.”

  “Then it’s worse than I thought. You’re lured by his beauty and by his promises.”

  The melody took on a hint of tension beneath the notes.

  “Bai Huang is a young man and idealistic,” Mingyu continued. “He might even fancy himself in love with you, but you can never be more than a servant to him. Outside of the pleasure quarter, you’re nothing to him.”

  Mingyu never allowed herself to be attracted to a patron. They courted her with poetry and gifts and she outwardly appeared flattered, but that was part of the illusion of the Pingkang li.

  The music stopped abruptly. “He’ll only use you.”