The Lotus Palace

by Jeannie Lin

  As courtesans, Mingyu and Huilan were already accustomed to playing their part and keeping their secrets close.

  “Lord Bai noticed from the beginning that Huilan was afraid to go to any of her patrons or even to Magistrate Li. He assumed whoever she was afraid of was very powerful.”

  “Every man has power over us,” Mingyu said.

  That was the hard truth of it. The realities of birth and status. Mingyu and Huilan might be revered within the confines of the Three Lanes, but they were women who were owned and kept. Their names were celebrated by merely a few lofty poets and gentlemen over cups of wine. Even Taizhu, who had been elevated to the Hanlin Academy, had been so afraid of the implications of his low birth that he had been afraid to come forward.

  “If Lord Bai hadn’t been so dedicated, this crime may never have been resolved.”

  “And you were so brave as well. The stories always forget that,” Mingyu said warmly.

  Yue-ying looked away. She wasn’t used to such open praise, and certainly not from her sister.

  “Why are you not with Lord Bai now?”

  Her heart beat faster at the mention of his name. “My place is here with you. We were supposed to grow old together, remember?”

  Her humor failed to amuse. “So I can become just like Madame Sun and you can be Auntie? There is no future for us here.”

  “Do you know Bai Huang is already betrothed? His family arranged it many years ago. How long do you think a man like Lord Bai could remain infatuated with a woman like me?” This was the first she’d dared to speak her fears aloud. The hopelessness of it sharpened into a palpable ache. “Sometimes I would rather he be a merchant or a tradesman. Then I could be more than his concubine.”

  “There are greater hardships than being a wealthy man’s concubine.”

  “Even if his emotions were to remain true, what of his family? What happens when his wife won’t tolerate sharing her husband with a concubine?”

  “You don’t know any of these things for certain,” Mingyu soothed.

  Yue-ying sat up, brushing her hair from her face in agitation. Mingyu had an answer for everything and it was infuriating.

  “Why didn’t you become General Deng’s concubine when given the chance?” she countered.

  Mingyu fell silent. A concubine who had been cast out had little choice but to return to a life in the pleasure houses or brothels—if she was still young and desirable enough.

  “Lord Bai is different,” her sister said finally. “I watched him for months trying to make a show of courting me, when all he could look at was you. I’ve seen how you look at him as well. What you and he share is...is something I know nothing about.”

  The wistfulness in Mingyu’s tone startled her. Yue-ying had always thought Mingyu to be the more practical, the more cynical of the two of them. She had been wrong.

  “It won’t last forever,” Yue-ying said sadly.

  “Nothing lasts forever.”

  They sat together in the dimness of the room, with Mingyu trying so hard to push her away out of love for her. And out of hope for both of them.

  Mingyu reached out to touch her arm. “I don’t want Hana to remain at the Lotus Palace. I didn’t free her so she could be trapped here, with her life decided for her. I don’t want you to be chained here to me either.”

  She laid her head against Mingyu’s shoulder. It was a rare moment, to be allowed so close.

  “Yue-ying. Little Sister.” Mingyu stroked her hair softly. “Life is fleeting and we will never know what tomorrow will bring. Go to Bai Huang and be happy for as long as you can.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HUANG SAW YUE-YING the moment he opened the gate. She was sitting on the bench beside the peony tree. It had been days since he had seen her and there she was like a cool breeze; an unexpected gift in the middle of the summer heat.

  “You’re here,” he said.

  He went to her and she made room on the bench for him to sit. “I am.”

  Her hand found its way into his and he was flooded with relief and happiness. He’d been holding in his breath for days and he could finally exhale.

  “I’m happy to see you,” Huang said.

  She turned to him and graced him with a smile that was crooked and mysterious. “I’m happy as well.”

  She never smiled for him completely, without reservation. She always held something back and it made him even more determined to make her eyes light up and hear her laughter.

  They rose and retreated to the bedchamber. Then, not caring that it was the middle of the day or that the windows were open, he slipped off her robe and made love to her. Afterward, they lay together in the languid heat of the afternoon. His fingers played with the strands of her hair as his eyes traced every inch of her face. She no longer flinched from his gaze. He couldn’t hide the truth from her any longer.

  “When I went to ask my father’s help with Mingyu’s case, we spoke about other matters as well.” His throat closed around the next words. “I mentioned the two of us.”

  She rose to sit over him. “Us?”

  “I told him that I wanted you to be my wife.”

  She was bare from head to toe, presenting too pretty of a view as she stared down at him in astonishment.

  “You know that can’t be.”

  “It’s the truth. It’s what I want here.” He tapped a hand to his chest. “My father said he would disown me if I insisted on it.”

  His voice rasped low, grating against his throat. His father could have threatened to kill him and it would have hurt less.

  “I couldn’t let you do that,” Yue-ying said softly.

  “You wouldn’t run away with me? We can find a place in the woods,” he teased. “Raise chickens. Catch fish.”

  She managed a laugh. The sound of it was enough to lighten his heart just a little, even if she did it only for his benefit. She touched a hand to his chest.

  “You’ve spent the past three years redeeming yourself in your father’s eyes. You won’t leave your family. It’s not what you truly want...here.” She placed her hand against his heart and it beat even faster.

  His heart was selfish and entitled and greedy and he had always assumed, despite his father forbidding it and despite Yue-ying’s insistence that she never wanted to be owned again, that somehow everything would fall into place for him. He’d taken a knife to his gut and had survived. Heaven smiled on him. He was privileged from birth and he was invincible.

  But he wasn’t invincible now. His insides were exposed; his heart lay open and beating.

  He sat up so they could see one another, eye to eye. “I’m expected to marry as soon as I complete the palace exams.”

  Her mouth pressed tight, but that was all. “I know. I knew this when I came to you.”

  “I don’t want to. I want this here, with you. I wish this would never end.”

  “It’s your responsibility,” she said, turning away from him. “I’ve always known I could never be your wife. You need to accept that and stop this romantic nonsense.”

  Yue-ying was right. These were the realities of his noble birth and her low status. It was cruel for him to continue to pretend otherwise.

  Her back was to him and he admired the subtle curve of her spine, the span of bare skin as blank as a canvas. That view of a woman was always alluring to him. With her face turned away, it could be anyone. Only secret knowledge told him it was Yue-ying. It was the view of parting after an intimate encounter. A bittersweet image in every way.

  “Yue-ying, this woman that I’m to marry...I don’t even know her. I don’t feel anything for her, not like what I feel for you.”

  He reached across the bed and pulled her to him, her back to his chest.

  “I have a brother,” he began. He couldn’t see her face, but he pressed his cheek to her hair. The scent of jasmine enfolded him. “Of the same father, but from different mothers. When my father was reassigned to Fujian province, our family stayed here and he to
ok his concubine with him. Though he never speaks to us of her, I know he cares for her very deeply.”

  How was he to explain this to Yue-ying in a way that she could believe? For one, he had to stop talking about his father, about someone else’s life, and speak about his own.

  He turned her around in his arms so that she could see his expression and know that he was sincere. “Will you belong to me and me alone?” He took hold of her hands. It was hard to keep his voice from shaking. “And I would belong to you and you alone. There are things I am required to do, out of honor and duty and respect. But there are the few precious things that I can choose and you are the only woman I would ever choose. You would always be with me. You would be the wife of my heart.”

  A faint tremor ran along her lower lip as she absorbed his words. He could see the wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes and he wanted to take her in his arms again, but he was afraid to shatter the moment. She held all the power over him, more than his family or the cursed examinations.

  “But you would have another wife in truth,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  He kissed her, pouring all of his intention and sincerity into that kiss. Her lips parted for him. Her arms accepted him and he was filled with a rush of gratitude and elation.

  “This is the only truth,” he said, holding her tight.

  * * *

  WHEN THE END of the year approached, Bai Huang declared his candidacy for the imperial exams and threw himself into his studies in earnest. Other than Yue-ying’s weekly visits to Mingyu, they spent little time in the North Hamlet. The neighborhood surrounding Bai Huang’s residence became their world, enjoying small meals and snacks from the food stands that dotted the adjacent lane or purchasing charcoal from the man who came by every day with a basket full of it.

  His sister, Wei-wei, came by frequently as an excuse to leave the family mansion. She would challenge Bai Huang with questions and read over his written commentaries. The depth of her knowledge was awe-inspiring. Yue-ying could see how the two of them, brother and sister, had truly spent their entire lives studying for this examination, though only one of them was allowed to take it.

  One day, Wei-wei sat Yue-ying down at the desk and placed a brush in her hand. Just like that, she was taken under Wei-wei’s tutelage as well. In exchange for her instruction, Yue-ying would tell colorful stories of the Pingkang li.

  “You must take me there one day,” Wei-wei insisted.

  “No,” Bai Huang replied sternly from his vantage point at the doorway.

  His sister made a face at him, but Yue-ying smiled. “The North Hamlet might not be the best place for a well-bred lady,” Yue-ying told her.

  Even if she did learn how to read and write, Yue-ying was far from being a proper lady. She knew that the elder Lord Bai had demanded that Bai Huang end their affair. With Wei-wei’s constant visits, it was no secret that Bai Huang had refused to do so, but she heard of no other protest from his family. They assumed she would go away quietly in due time as mistresses should.

  The weather became colder and the two of them remained indoors most days, closed off together and away from the world. At night, they would pile on extra layers of blankets and Bai Huang would read to her from books that had nothing to do with the imperial exams: stories of fox-demons and dragon princesses and scholars who overcame insurmountable obstacles. He avoided the love stories about scholars and song girls. They were overly sentimental and tragic and she had no liking for them.

  A fervor gripped the city the closer they came to spring and the impending examinations. Yue-ying had known this time to be a quiet one in the Pingkang li, but now she knew why. Throughout the scholars’ quarter and in households throughout the city, candidates were at their books, only stopping to rest their eyes or sleep, dreaming of the Analects behind closed eyelids.

  Bai Huang was among them, his fingers smudged with ink from writing practice essays, his eyes sunken from late nights memorizing passages from the Classics. Yue-ying brought him tea and food, urging him to eat. Rubbing his shoulders. He would reach for her hand, holding it while still reading. This was what it must feel like to be husband and wife: taking care of one another in little ways.

  As the days went by she could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders intensifying.

  “You have to study every line, every verse,” he complained. “The examiners could choose any passage from any of the Four Books and Five Classics and remove two lines. You would be expected to produce the missing section, word for word.”

  “I’ve heard there are pamphlets with common questions and passages selected by the Hanlin Academy,” she offered, trying to be helpful.

  “Those are the tools of scoundrels and cheaters,” he scoffed. Then a while later and much quieter, “I’ve studied those as well.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her. She pressed her hand to her mouth to try to stop it, but it was useless. At first he frowned at her, looking offended, but soon he was laughing too. Then he was chasing after her. She let herself be caught.

  His arms rounded her waist and then he let out a long sigh, bending to rest his forehead against hers. He was weary and anxious. She could feel it through the embrace. She could sense it in the air as he wielded his brush and even hear it in every turn of a page.

  “What happened all the other times?” she asked. Perhaps it wasn’t the right question to ask, but he had to be thinking of all his other attempts.

  “The first time, I figured I was young and ill prepared. The second time I studied twice as hard and felt invincible. The third time—” He stopped himself and exhaled slowly before meeting her eyes. “The third time, I just fell into despair.”

  She grabbed hold of his chin and gave it a little shake. “The answer is easy, then. Don’t fall into despair.”

  It at least earned her a smile.

  On some nights, the pressure would build and become overwhelming. Yue-ying could tell by the way he would pace the courtyard or move from book to book, unable to concentrate. She would see a stack of scrolls on the desk and know it was time to come into the study.

  “Come sit with me,” he would implore.

  She knew he wanted to gamble to take his mind away, so she would brew tea and sit with him, sewing or sometimes studying her own lessons. Time would pass and Bai Huang would regain his composure enough to continue.

  There were nights when she would drag him from the study. He was tired, but too anxious to sleep, but she knew how to be persuasive. She would peel the robe from his shoulders, remove his clothes and pleasure him with her hands, her mouth. On nights when he was too exhausted to make love, he would hold her close, naked skin to naked skin, stroking her gently and then gradually quicker until she reached her climax.

  “Yue-ying,” he said after one of those long, slow days that started before sunrise and ended late into the night with them clinging to one another. “Dearest, I can’t remember what life was like without you.”

  “You’re going to make yourself ill if you don’t sleep,” she said in return as she settled into the crook of his arm.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. The examination period was only three days away. Bai Huang would succeed this time. She believed it in her heart, and once he did he would marry his betrothed as their families had intended. Whenever she looked at him, his brow furrowed in concentration, or asleep in bed with his long graceful fingers still curled around a book, she knew it would tear her heart in two to share him with another woman.

  Inevitably he would turn his thoughts to family. His wife would bear him sons and share in all his joys and sorrows. A concubine, aside from the intimacies of the bedchamber, was little more than a servant to the family. But Yue-ying would at least have Bai Huang, if only in part, and she would be taken care of. She should be happy with the thought. It was selfish of her to doubt. It was greedy of her to want more.

  * * *

  ON THE MORNING of the imperial examinations, drums beat in rhythm throughou
t the city an hour before dawn. In the local wards, a gong sounded to signal to all candidates that it was time to rouse and travel to the examination hall. Carriages set out from the home of every candidate, clogging the streets with hopefuls dressed in dark robes and scholars’ caps.

  Huang’s carriage joined the procession on the main artery that led into the administrative quarters of the imperial city. Examination day was practically a festival in and of itself and a large crowd gathered on either side of the road. The examination hall would be packed with over a thousand candidates in the next hour. Only one in ten would pass, if even that many.

  It was nearly impossible to find anyone in such a throng, but just before Huang disappeared into the gates of the imperial city he sighted a vermilion sash tied onto a parasol. Yue-ying had come to see him off to battle as she’d promised. Mingyu was beside her with the old ox Taizhu towering over them both.

  Yue-ying was smiling, her eyes bright with pride. She had sewn a sachet for him in the shape of a carp for good luck. It was an uncommonly sentimental gesture for her. She had only pressed it into his palm and hadn’t allowed him to say anything to her about it. The charm was stuffed with cassia bark. Huang had fallen asleep with it beside his pillow and the sweet cinnamon scent had followed him into his dreams.

  She lifted a hand to wave at him and his heart was ready to burst out of his chest. He felt invincible, as if he could leap over mountains. Who wouldn’t want to feel this way every moment of every day?

  There had to be a way, his heart insisted. There had to be a way for them to remain together.

  The examinations hadn’t even started and he was already distracted. Yue-ying would scold him for it if she knew. He gave her a final nod before turning back to face the dreaded palace exams for the fourth time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  IF THERE WAS anyone more nervous than Bai Huang, it was his sister. Wei-wei managed to find one excuse or another to come and visit every day that her brother spent sealed inside the examination hall. On the third day, Yue-ying was preparing a meal for his return when Wei-wei wandered into the kitchen.