With his long legs, Wu climbed up into the carriage without need of the step stool and positioned himself immediately behind the driver in the seat opposite them. Mingyu remained silent, looking out into the street. Defiantly, Yue-ying did the same. She turned her head to watch the rows of shops flow by.
All the warmth and euphoria she had felt beneath the bridge had faded away. Mingyu drew the entire world around her like stars circling the Earth. If she was upset, then no one else was allowed their happiness.
At least Wu’s presence assured their earlier argument would not resurface. Hopefully the discussion about Bai Huang would die away, to become yet another topic they avoided speaking of. Some things were meant to go unspoken, even among the closest of people.
The first part of the journey was dreadful. There was a lantern hanging on the carriage to provide light. Wu Kaifeng kept his hands on his knees, his glance occasionally flickering to one side of the carriage and then the other. Anyone who happened to approach them was likely to get his hand sliced off.
“You are from Suzhou,” Mingyu said to him after the long pause.
“I am.”
“I hear the women are beautiful there.”
“Not more or less so than anywhere.”
Mingyu laughed. “He speaks only when required and not one word more.”
Yue-ying didn’t answer. She didn’t think she was supposed to.
“Tell us about all the dangerous outlaws you’ve arrested in the North Hamlet,” she taunted.
Yue-ying wanted to pinch her; Mingyu was being combative on purpose.
“Not many at all.”
“Oh, we must be quite safe, then.”
“Very secretive, more like,” the constable replied. “The citizens of this ward would rather a crime go unpunished than upset the peace by reporting it.”
“Well, Magistrate Li speaks highly of you,” Mingyu said, now trying to smooth over the rough edges of the conversation.
“He brought me here because there were a high number of questionable cases in the area,” he said.
“Questionable?”
“Take the case of the body that was found in the river. The man was drowned before being dragged back into a boat. Then whoever did it took time to hide the body, which is unusual for street thieves. He was dead for a week before the earthquake shook the boat loose from wherever it had been lodged. The body had begun to decay, becoming black and putrid, yet no one reported anyone as missing during this time.”
They were both staring at him in shock. Talk of death and tragedy was taboo. Maybe it was a good thing that Constable Wu didn’t speak very often.
Mingyu looked a little pale by the time the carriage stopped for inspection at the ward gate. They had been issued a pass to allow them through after curfew. The city streets outside the ward were wide and empty aside from foot patrols at this time of night. The carriage rolled northward toward the lavish residences located near the imperial palace.
“Well, this has certainly been an interesting ride,” Mingyu remarked sarcastically as they arrived at the banquet.
Yue-ying bit her tongue. Mingyu had demanded protection, not entertaining conversation.
The mansion was practically a palace itself. There were several courtyards within the surrounding wall. The spacious garden had been set up with banquet tables, and courtesans moved between them, pouring wine and providing stories. Lanterns were hung throughout the gathering, casting a warm glow over the guests. The darkness of night was no deterrent for celebrating such an occasion. The party was hosted by Duke Chou of Taiyuan, who had been newly promoted to chancellor, one of the highest positions in the imperial court.
Mingyu introduced herself to the steward and flowed into the banquet as if she’d been born to nobility. She was brought to the head table to be introduced to the Duke and his inner circle. Yue-ying drifted to the corner of the garden, preparing to become invisible.
“There is something I did not bring up in the carriage, Miss Yue-ying.”
She started at the gravel of Wu’s voice. She’d heard no warning footsteps or the clearing of a throat. The head constable materialized beside her like a granite statue, dark and imposing.
He stood with his back to the wall and raked his gaze slowly over the gathering. He made her nervous, as if he were the judge of the underworld there to demand retribution for old, undiscovered transgressions.
“About the body in the canal—a puncture wound was found at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.” He tapped the spot at the base of his neck. “Upon further investigation, I found this embedded in him.”
He reached into the fold of his robe and pulled out a bundle of cloth. She unwrapped it to find a broad silver pin the length of her third finger.
“I considered it might be a weapon, going so far as to check the wound for traces of poison. There was none,” he assured her.
Poison? What sort of crimes did the constable typically encounter?
She picked up the pin very carefully with two fingers, turning it over and holding it close to inspect the surface. “This is from a lady’s hair ornament.”
The long, pointed tip, which was meant to be fixed into a coil of hair or a bun, was intact, but the topmost edge was jagged. The ornament had been snapped off.
“At first I assumed the drowned man was a vagrant or some unfortunate who had stumbled upon thieves in the middle of the night,” Wu said. “The presence of this, an expensive piece of jewelry, changes everything. This was stabbed into him with enough force to break it in two. There was a struggle before he drowned.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Whoever had worn the ornament was involved with murder.
“The pin is made of pure silver. Very expensive. Considering where the body was found, this ornament likely belonged to a courtesan. One who was successful enough to afford such extravagance,” Wu concluded.
Mingyu glanced over at them with a curious look. Yue-ying quickly wrapped the pin back up and returned it to the constable. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“I know very little about women’s jewelry. I was hoping you could help me.”
When Wu spoke, his eyes didn’t liven his face or emphasize his words. They remained fixed upon her. Yue-ying finally recognized that it wasn’t merely a quirk of his character. Everything he said was indeed part of an interrogation. All that strange talk during the carriage ride about the dead body found in the canal—he was watching closely to see how they would react to it. Surely he didn’t suspect her or Mingyu?
Then she realized he suspected everyone.
“There are hundreds of these in the quarter,” she replied. “There’s no way to tell who this belonged to.”
“One murder shortly after another in the Pingkang li. It makes one wonder if there is some connection.”
The killing would have happened around the same time as the banquet on the pleasure boat. Just weeks before Huilan’s death.
“Maybe this man attempted to grab some woman and do unspeakable things to her,” Yue-ying said. “She had to defend herself.”
“Then why not report it to the magistrate?” the constable asked.
She looked over to where Mingyu was entertaining. The Pingkang was its own world and the constable was an outsider. Bai Huang had said as much.
“Because we’re afraid,” she said evenly. “We’re all afraid.”
The earthquake had dredged up all the hidden secrets of the quarter. Two murders, occurring so close together. One was a stranger who meant nothing to anyone except the grim-faced constable who was ruthlessly dedicated to his duties. But Huilan was well-known and beloved. Or at least she had been.
“Miss?” A maidservant approached them. “Our steward needs to speak with you. Some issue with the banquet fee.”
“The fee?” Payment was always handled between the host and Madame Sun.
Yue-ying excused herself from Constable Wu and followed the maidservant into the interior of the mansion. The entrance hall was similarly lit with lanterns, though all of the guests had congregated outside in the garden. She was asked to wait in a sitting room and was in the midst of studying a scroll depicting a flock of cranes on one wall when an arm wrapped around her waist.
With a gasp, she dug her elbow back, colliding against solid bone and muscle.
“It’s me,” Bai Huang said with a laugh. He loosened his hold on her as she twisted around.
“You scared me!” She shoved at him. Her heart was pounding uncontrollably. All this talk of murder and stabbings. Still, the sight of him stole her breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t you know that the new chancellor and I share the same surname? The Duke of Taiyuan is a distant relative—a cousin of cousins. I have an impressive lineage.”
She sniffed. He grinned.
“I have to get back,” she said. “I can’t be away for long, especially when Mingyu sees that you’re here.”
“Oh, so you’ve been prohibited from seeing me.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “No more kissing beneath bridges?”
Her face heated. She turned to go only to have him catch her sleeve. It was a risk, having such long sleeves.
“Why don’t we both stay back here? No one will miss us and you’re the most interesting part of the banquet anyway.”
“Shameless,” she scolded.
But there was no denying the flutter in her stomach or the skip of her pulse. She liked the way he teased her. She even liked the look of regret that passed over his face when he released her.
“What is that brute Wu Kaifeng doing here? I heard he accompanied you.”
“He’s here for our protection.”
“Protection?”
“Mingyu insisted she didn’t feel safe.” She frowned. “Her reasons are sometimes a mystery to all but herself. Whatever her mood was today, she refused to leave the Lotus without a bodyguard.”
“Wu is like a great black spider. His presence would dampen the mood of any gathering.”
“Black spider? Now that’s hardly fair,” she chided. “I really must go.”
“Wait—” He caught her sleeve again, this time letting his fingers trail down to hook onto hers. “When can I see you again?”
His proposal made her heart leap. They weren’t conducting an affair. It was nothing more than the touch of fingertips and the exchange of looks. One brief kiss in the rain. Another prolonged, passionate kiss beneath a bridge. She strung their moments together one by one like jewels on a necklace.
Mingyu was right; she was allowing herself to be seduced. Not by Bai Huang, but by the thought a gentleman such as him could be attracted to someone like her. Of course it wasn’t anything more than a moment’s infatuation.
“We shouldn’t be seen together unless you happen to be at the Lotus,” she replied firmly.
“But you won’t speak to me at the Lotus,” he protested.
Yue-ying wanted very much to be reckless and stay with him, if only for a few stolen moments, but she couldn’t endanger her relationship with Mingyu. Their bond was tenuous enough as it was. With her heart full of regret, she left Bai Huang standing in the parlor.
She had been so distracted by his teasing that she hadn’t thought to tell him about the broken hairpin and the stranger in the canal. Perhaps it was best that she kept her suspicions, as vague as they were, to herself. Huilan could have left the pleasure boat that night and returned along the waterway.
The problem was that Mingyu had been with her.
CHAPTER TEN
T
HE
LAYOUT
OF
the pleasure quarter was easy to navigate. There were three main lanes. The more expensive establishments such as the Lotus Palace and the House of a Hundred Songs were located in the central and southern lanes. The lesser houses congregated along the northern lane.
These courtesans were not as highly skilled and their patrons were the younger candidates or poorer merchants who could not afford the exorbitant banquet fees of the larger houses.
Given his reputation for being indiscriminate, it wasn’t implausible for Huang to stumble into one of the houses of the northern lane. The headmistress took a look at the expensive material of his robe, recognized his name and his reputation for throwing money around, and immediately he found a lovely young lady at his arm leading him to a seat. Her perfume had a sweet, pleasant scent.
“What is your name?” he asked as he reclined back onto the pillows.
“Lin Li.”
He rewarded her with a smile. “Very pretty.”
Lin Li ducked her head shyly as she poured the wine. She wore little makeup and her face had a fresh, innocent appeal with dimples in both cheeks and a soft pink mouth. The house had only a single parlor for entertaining and three courtesans in addition to the headmistress. His attention was divided between the lovely Lin Li and Ma Jun, who was sitting at the center of the room with two men he didn’t recognize.
“I haven’t seen you here before, my lord,” Lin Li said.
“Then I’ve been neglectful,” he teased.
Huang didn’t want the commissioner thinking he was the sole reason for the visit, so he continued his banter with the courtesan while keeping an eye on Ma Jun.
Lin Li offered wine to him. He complained about having to drink alone. She demurred and sipped along with him. They spoke about themselves. The courtesan had a way of speaking so softly that he had to lean in close to hear her. She called him handsome with a bashful flutter of her lashes. That was still pleasing to hear, he had to admit.
By the time Lin Li was getting a little bolder in her flirtation, Ma Jun’s two guests had disappeared into the back, presumably to private rooms. Huang made eye contact with the commissioner for the third time that evening, each time frowning as if trying to recall where they’d met.
“Commissioner Ma?” he finally asked.
The man regarded him with a similar frown of almost recognition while Lin Li murmured in disappointment. She was attempting to lay her head on Huang’s shoulder when he rose to approach the commissioner.
“It is you!” Huang shook his finger at him. “We met at the chancellor’s banquet the other night. Commissioner Ma Jun, the man who knows everyone. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Huang, family name of Bai.”
“Of course, Lord Bai. I know that name very well. Please sit.”
Lin Li smoothly glided over as well, pouring wine for the both of them.
“I haven’t been here before.” Huang looked about the room. “It’s very comfortable, isn’t it?”
“Well, you should come more often. It’s so much more relaxing than some of the larger establishments. Good for conversation. And the ladies are just as lovely and talented.”
He laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly, and gave Lin Li a sly smile. Then he insisted on buying more wine for the commissioner and after a few cups they were becoming fast friends. Such was the open atmosphere of the Pingkang li.
“Haven’t I also seen you at the House of a Hundred Songs?” Huang asked, refilling Ma Jun’s cup himself.
“It’s likely. I’ve been known to visit.”
“A tragedy, what happened to that poor girl there.”
“Lady Huilan,” Ma Jun said, sighing long and loud. “She was a rare flower.”
They raised their cups and drank. After Huang finished his wine, he pressed on. “Were you close to her?”
“She served as hostess for our gatherings every so often. A great talent.”
“Gatherings such as these?” Huang indicated the two seats that had been recently vacated by the unfamiliar men.
“Traders from Guangzhou,” Ma Jun answered easily. “As head of the East Market Commission, I deal with many different merchants. It’s always easier to discuss business over wine and music.”
“It must be difficult to go back to the Hundred Songs now that Huilan is gone. It just won’t be the same without her,” Huang remarked, shaking his head.
Ma Jun nodded. He rubbed a hand over his beard and looked genuinely sad. Huang was disappointed at how pleasant and accommodating the commissioner was. Ma was keeping his distance and not admitting that he and Huilan had been intimate in any way, but those sorts of things were not discussed among gentlemen, and most certainly not after her tragic end. Huang was hoping for a shifty gaze, sudden anger or a tremor in the other man’s hands, which might indicate guilt.
“I hear that her ghost haunts the Hundred Songs,” Huang ventured.
He knew he was reaching, but some men, even the strong, stalwart sort, would tremble at the mere mention of ghosts. As it was, Ma Jun only looked at him oddly as if he’d had too much to drink. Poor Lin Li, however, did turn pale.
“Just a rumor I had heard.” He shrugged, quickly downing more wine.
Commissioner Ma was less forthcoming after that. Likely because he thought Lord Bai Huang might be a raving madman. They moved on to more neutral topics.
“There are so many considerations to keep the market running peacefully,” the commissioner said. “There are regulations on quality and price. Which merchants and goods are allowed to be sold inside the walls of the East Market.”
It was Lin Li who saved him from utter boredom. The courtesan detected Huang’s feigned interest as the conversation veered toward types of wood and shipping from the southern provinces.
“Come with me, my lord,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.
He did so gladly.
Lin Li took him by the hand and led him down a dark hallway into a chamber. The bed was arranged against one wall and there was a painting of sparrows and plum blossoms hung above it. He could tell from the brushwork and calligraphy that it was of low quality.
As soon as they were inside Lin Li drew a curtain across the doorway and flowed into his arms. Her perfume once again floated over him. The scent was as delicate and undemanding as she was. Large, luminous eyes fixed on him, the pupils darkening slightly. She liked what she saw. His pulse beat faster.
She ran her hands over his shoulders and down to the front of his robe while his entire body tensed. Huang laid his hand over hers with a firm grip, halting the touch.
The courtesan’s smile didn’t waver. “You’re in love with someone.”
He shook his head, though his mouth curved faintly.
Her lashes fluttered. “You can forget her for a while, if you want...or not.”
“I had a suspicion you were not as shy as you appeared.”
Lin Li’s smile widened at that, flashing both dimples. She was quite lovely. On top of that, she was pleasant, soft-spoken and undemanding. They could spend an hour secluded together and he would leave relaxed and invigorated. But it wasn’t his intention for coming here and, even worse than that, he found himself imagining what Yue-ying would say to him, or rather not say to him, if she could see him right now. He pictured the exact look on her face.
When had Yue-ying inserted herself into his head?
“Let us talk instead,” he said.
Without argument, Lin Li rolled onto her side with her cheek resting on her palm. If she showed any sign of disappointment, he’d certainly missed it.
He settled in at the edge of the bed. “Does Commissioner Ma come here often?”
Her answer came without hesitation. “Once or twice a week. More often since the tragedy at the Hundred Songs.”
“Does he always bring associates with him?”
“Always. He tries very much to appear more impressive than he is. Unlike you.”
Huang laughed. “I’m completely unimpressive.”
“He would come to us with the ones he considered unrefined,” she said. “Foreign merchants or the less wealthy ones. Here, one can listen to a song girl, have wine poured and even come back for a few moments in the bedchamber. I’ve heard the commissioner saying all this to Mother. All the same pleasantries of the central and southern lanes, but for only a portion of the expense. Most of the outsiders don’t know the difference between one courtesan or another.”
The dear girl showed no signs of being upset that she was being compared to a commodity in the market and an inferior one at that. Huang shifted uncomfortably. Lin Li’s words echoed what Yue-ying had accused him of once: that he thought of all the women of the Pingkang li as interchangeable.
It was easy to see how Ma Jun traded access to the market in exchange for bribes, but, other than being somewhat unscrupulous, Huang hadn’t found anything that pointed to his propensity to commit murder.
“The courtesan, the one who died, she was a favorite of his, wasn’t she?” Lin Li asked.
“I’ve heard it said so.”
“And he was there the night she was strangled?” She saw his look of surprise and shrugged. “One hears things.”
“If you hear anything else from the commissioner, I would like to know about it,” he said.
“How do I find you?”
“I usually drink at the Lotus.”
“You must be quite wealthy. I let you get away too easily.”
She really was quite charming. If only it wasn’t an act. In truth, it was an act and it wasn’t. Just as he was a scoundrel and he wasn’t.
“I enjoyed our conversation, Lin Li,” he said, standing to take his leave.
Rather than bowing, she reached out to touch his arm. “Farewell, Lord Bai.”
Before departing, he paid the headmistress for the wine and Lin Li’s attentions, as chaste as they were. As he exited the pleasure house the evening had just begun. He wandered back toward the more refined establishments along the southern lane.
The lanterns were lit in the rooftop of the Lotus Palace and all the windows were aglow. He could hear the sound of laughter from within. None of the laughter would belong to Yue-ying. She was always the quietest person in the room. Did she ever laugh? Other than to mock him, that was?
His body was still flushed, desire uncomfortably awakened. His various activities lately had left him little time for falling into bed with courtesans, but he hadn’t abstained from female company since returning to the city.
If he went inside, he would have to pretend to court Mingyu while hoping to catch the attention of her maidservant. Yue-ying would have to watch him fumble and fawn over another woman. And then if he happened to catch a moment alone with her, she would smell the perfume on his clothes and be convinced he was a good-for-nothing. Well, maybe he didn’t amount to much right now, but he could be a little better than that for her.
Huang kept on walking and the sounds of the Lotus Palace faded into the night.