“You shouldn’t be giving gifts like that to someone like me. It’s not—it’s not proper.”
Defeat crept into her. It was true. For an aristocrat to openly court a maidservant—everyone would think the worst of both of them. The literati of the North Hamlet laughed at Bai Huang’s mishaps, but no one treated him with scorn. And she, they simply ignored. She didn’t exist and she didn’t want to, in that way.
“I don’t mean any offense,” she insisted, though she felt she added on more insult with those words. Why couldn’t she have Mingyu’s talent for deflecting a man’s attention without causing him to lose face? And it
was
a talent; she could see that now.
Bai Huang moved past her again, his shoulder just skimming her arm as he returned to the desk. She felt the coldness of the near miss more acutely than any touch.
He lifted the hairpin, revealing only his profile as he looked it over. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Just like I’ve never known anyone like you.” He turned it this way and that to catch the light, the same way she had done. “I thought you might like it, that was all.”
With that, he opened the same drawer where he’d hidden the scroll and dropped the pin inside. Suddenly, unreasonably, she wanted it back. She clasped her hands behind her back to keep from reaching for it.
The silence that remained was uncomfortable. She turned to look over the shelves against the wall. “I’ve never seen so many books.”
“My family has aspirations of me leaving my wind-and-wine days behind me and passing the palace exams,” he said from behind her. “I suppose I should start reading them someday.”
He was lying. There was dust gathered at the edge of the shelf, but not on the books or scrolls themselves. She wanted to reach out and run her hands over the pages, as if these writings held the answer to who Bai Huang really was.
When she turned back around, he was staring at her with a look that she could only describe as longing. It was there and then gone in the next moment.
“Now was that the only reason you came to see me?” He leaned back against the desk, once again the beloved fool, the failed-scholar, the do-nothing.
She took a breath and told him about the stash of silver that she had discovered and Constable Wu had confiscated. Once again, the investigation was serving as an excuse to seek him out. It was shameless of her.
“You’ve made better progress than I.” He in turn recounted how he had spent the past few days investigating Ma Jun. “It was a waste of time. I was certain he must be hiding something, but, other than taking small bribes, he doesn’t appear to be guilty of a crime. He was at the Hundred Songs the night of Huilan’s death, but the other courtesans are confident that he was downstairs in the banquet room the entire time.”
“What if we’ve been mistaken all along?” she said slowly.
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Why do you say that?”
“We’ve been assuming that something happened at that banquet that upset Huilan, but what if the incident occurred afterward? A lady’s hairpin was found in the body from the river and Constable Wu believes the stranger was drowned near the end of the month. Right around the same time as the banquet.”
Wu Kaifeng knew about Huilan’s visits to the temple as well as the banquet. Yue-ying needed to uncover what had happened before Constable Wu did. It was the only way to protect Mingyu.
“Wu seems to be confiding in you quite a bit,” he remarked dryly.
She was taken aback by the bite in his tone. “He confides in me for the same reasons you do. He trusts in my knowledge of the North Hamlet.”
Bai Huang sighed loudly. He closed his hands over her shoulders and directed her into the chair beside the desk before taking his seat behind it. “I confide in you because, not only are you perceptive, but I can’t stop thinking of you.”
A thrill went through her. The warmth of his touch stayed with her even though his hands were now folded in front of him. He regarded her with a stern expression. She found his look of concentration so much more compelling than all of the smiles and flirtatious glances.
“A lady’s hairpin was found?” he prompted, as if he hadn’t just confessed that she was in his thoughts or that he was irrationally jealous of Wu Kaifeng.
She gathered the thoughts in her head together and tried to form a coherent picture. “The stranger in the boat could have been someone dangerous, a smuggler or a bandit. That was where all the silver could have come from. Huilan either quarreled with him or fought with him and he was drowned. Frightened, she hid the silver and planned to escape.”
“But his associates found her and took revenge?” Bai Huang finished for her.
“It’s possible.”
He was already shaking his head. “Your story answers some questions, but raises too many others. How did Huilan come to be involved with an outlaw in the first place?”
“It may not have been a previous association. He could have attacked her on the docks and she had to defend herself.”
“Then why not go to the magistrate?”
“Because of the silver. And because she was afraid.” Her answer to Bai Huang was the same as it had been to Constable Wu. “Men can’t understand how hard it is for us to trust anyone. Several years ago, a courtesan and her foster mother were both executed for killing a man. They claimed that he was robbing them, but the magistrate was unsympathetic because they had hidden the body. To Huilan, so much silver had to seem like freedom.”
“She had asked me for help,” he said soberly. “But she didn’t trust me enough to confide in me. Perhaps she would have if I didn’t have a reputation for being so useless.”
“Lord Bai.” Yue-ying could see how the memory pained him. “No one thinks you’re useless.”
“Not that it matters now.” He shrugged, but she could still see the dark cloud over him. “If the stranger is the answer, we should search out the boats along the section of canal between where the pleasure boat was docked and the North Hamlet.”
Hopefully Yue-ying was right and the dead man was indeed some bandit or smuggler. She believed in her heart that Mingyu and Huilan weren’t capable of murder, even for the promise of so much silver.
“I should go now,” she said. “It’s getting late.”
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
Like a gentleman, Bai Huang accompanied her out into the courtyard. He came to a stop at the gate. “Is your mistress the reason why you won’t accept my gifts?” he pressed. “Why you won’t be seen with me?”
He was standing very close to her. She could smell the faint scent of cedarwood on his skin and was aware of his every breath as he waited for an answer.
“She doesn’t like that I spend time with you,” she admitted.
“Has she forbidden this?” He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers continuing the caress along her cheek.
A shudder traveled down her spine and every part of her warmed all at once. Though it was difficult, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Mingyu doesn’t need to forbid me. I make my own choices.”
Her face was unsettling to most. It wasn’t as if she were scarred or disfigured, but the red stain was odd enough to cause people to avert their eyes. They pretended they hadn’t been staring. As a result, she was easily noticed, but often ignored. Yet Bai Huang always looked directly at her, or, at times like this, he seemed to look into her. It left her feeling worse than naked.
“I owe her everything,” she tried to explain. “You don’t know how it is to have your well-being, your happiness or your sorrow tied to another person so absolutely.”
“I know what it means to have to answer to others,” he said darkly.
Ever since that first stolen kiss in the wine cellar, Bai Huang always waited for her to lean toward him. To give him some signal with her eyes or her lips to invite him to her. As much as she wanted him to kiss her at that moment, she pulled away.
Obligingly, he opened the gate for her. Out on the street, he waved down a sedan for her and handed a coin to the carrier once she was seated.
“It’s always been you sending me home before.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Usually drunk.”
She bit back her smile, but Bai Huang still caught it. His eyes didn’t leave her as the sedan pulled forward. When she glanced back, he was still standing there in the street, watching her leave.
CHAPTER TWELVE
H
UANG
PUT
ON
his plainest robe and had Zhou Dan meet him at his quarters midmorning. For the past few days, Zhou Dan had explored the docks with a few of his cronies to gather information.
They were going that day to meet Ouyang Yi, the owner of the most successful shipping fleet in those waters. He also happened to be the owner of the pleasure boat where the Market Commissioner’s banquet had been hosted.
The headquarters of the shipping operation was a building on the waterway with its own private port. Boatmen and laborers swarmed over the dock, loading and unloading crates and baskets.
Huang moved past the boats with Zhou Dan following dutifully behind him, carrying a bundle beneath one arm. The swampy scent of the canal surrounded them as they headed for the office. A clerk sat at the front. After a courteous introduction under an assumed name, Huang asked to see the shipping baron himself.
“Mr. Yuan.” The clerk nodded. “Mr. Ouyang is expecting you.”
Huang was posing as a merchant from Henan looking for transport services. He and Zhou Dan entered the inner office and Ouyang Yi stood to greet him. He was a middle-aged businessman, robust in appearance. His beard was neatly trimmed and his robe expensive, but not extravagant.
“Your fleet is very impressive, sir,” Huang began once he was seated. “You must have more ships than the imperial navy.”
“Not so great as that!” Ouyang laughed. “But times have been good.”
They continued with a few more pleasantries before the business discussion began. “What is it that you’re looking for, my friend?”
“Monthly shipments of cargo to our associates in the capital. I hear your prices are reasonable. And your connections are good,” Huang added, keeping his expression controlled.
Ouyang was equally placid. “What sort of goods are you looking to transport?”
“Silk, of course.”
Zhou Dan stepped forward and placed the bundle he’d been carrying onto the shipping merchant’s desk. Ouyang pulled back the hemp wrapper to inspect the bolts of silk inside. “This is quite a small shipment.”
“There is more to arrive by wagon,” Huang explained smoothly. “Once the details are arranged.”
The silk wasn’t the cargo. It was what was required for Ouyang Yi’s boatmen not to inspect or inquire about what was being transported.
“Henan province,” the trader said thoughtfully. “That would fall under the domain of my business partner.”
“Partner?”
“We have had to add more vessels due to increased demand in the past few years. Taking on a partner was much faster than building new ships and recruiting laborers to run them.”
Huang nodded. “That sounds reasonable. How do I make arrangements with your...associate?”
“He is away, but will be back in a few days. I’m certain he can find space in his holds for your shipment.”
Huang had not only discovered the trader’s vessels shipped all forms of goods, but there were certain boats and routes that were known to reliably be overlooked for inspection. For all Ouyang Yi knew, they all contained bolts of silk.
They spoke around a few other particulars: the size of the shipment, how many ships might be required and, interestingly, any special care the silk might require. Ouyang Yi chose his words very cautiously. This arrangement with his other half, if such a person even existed, apparently provided separation from the shadier activities that went on in his fleet.
At the end of the discussion, they arranged another meeting in a few days’ time. Afterward, Huang stood and thanked the trader for his time, leaving the bolts of silk behind as a goodwill gift.
“He’s certainly not on the straight and narrow,” Zhou Dan declared, once they were far from the docks. “Can’t you go to the magistrate and have him arrested?”
“Our goal isn’t to arrest every crooked trader in the city. We’re trying to catch a murderer. Lady Huilan may have happened upon illicit activity along the canal.”
“Or she was involved in it,” Zhou Dan suggested.
“That’s possible as well.”
He had considered many different angles. Perhaps he was putting too much trust in Yue-ying’s instincts. She had left out important parts of the picture in her explanation; most obviously that Huilan would not have been walking alone from the banquet, no matter how familiar she was with the area. Mingyu was also on the pleasure boat and she had mysteriously sent Yue-ying home early that night. Yue-ying was protecting her mistress; he had no doubt of it.
“We need to know what activities occur along that stretch of the canal after dark,” he directed.
Zhou Dan grinned. “More interesting than scrubbing pots back home.”
At the next crossroad, he and Zhou Dan parted ways. Posing as a crooked merchant was only one of his tasks for the day.
Father had sent him a message the night before to request a meeting. Huang followed his father’s instructions and arrived at the designated place near the Ministry of Defense. The teahouse was three stories high and every table appeared full. With some effort, they were able to procure a place beside a window in the corner.
“General Deng was not in Changan,” Father said before the tea was even brought out. “Our informants report that he never left his post.”
Huang frowned. “I received this information from the courtesans of the Lotus Palace.”
Mingyu’s supposed assignation with Deng at the hot springs was the reason Yue-ying had been free to roam the quarter with him. He had rather pleasant memories of those few days.
The memories faded beneath Father’s stern look. This was the man who’d had him thrown onto a naval ship when he couldn’t control his gambling impulses. His father didn’t look lightly upon distractions.
“I must have been mistaken,” Huang said. “I apologize.” Where had Mingyu been and with whom, if not with General Deng?
“No matter,” Father said. “But be careful who you trust.”
The tea came and gave them a short respite to speak of Father’s promotion. He’d been elevated in rank though he was still to be stationed in Fujian. “Too much unrest brewing along the coast,” he recounted. “The Sillan admiral whose fleet patrolled the area was assassinated several months ago. We must be vigilant or the pirates and raiders will take over once more.”
“The empire is in danger of being overrun by outlaws from all ten sides,” Huang muttered. “Even appointed officials are expected to be corrupt. It’s a fight that cannot be won.”
“Worrying accomplishes nothing. Emperor Xuanzong is dedicated to reform. All we need is more good men dedicated to the fight.” Father gestured at him with teacup in hand. “The Emperor is opening up candidacy for the imperial exams at the end of this year to recruit new talent.”
“Yes, Father.”
The implication was clear. There was only so much Huang could do until he passed the exams. Father didn’t need to point out—though he certainly had many times in the past—that every generation of their family had passed the exams and served in office. He, the eldest son of the Bai family, was currently a black mark in a long illustrious line.
* * *
T
HAT
NIGHT
,
THE
DICE
were a blessing. Huang stood at the table and watched the numbers roll in meaningless combinations: Two, five and one. Six, three and four. Three, three and five. It took his mind away—at least it would until the candle burned out. He needed this tonight.
While the dice rolled, he sipped the weak, tepid tea the runners brought and tried to sort out his thoughts.
Huilan had been involved in something treacherous and had been killed for it. Somehow he had become caught in it as well. He didn’t understand why solving this murder had become so important to him. He only knew that he needed to do it. Other scholar-gentlemen were moved to write poetry about these women, but verses were a thin tribute to pay. Maybe he was moved to do more.
Lady Mingyu, the courtesan he had been openly courting since he’d returned to the capital, was proving to be a fox-demon. She was lying to everyone, even those closest to her. The courtesans of the North Hamlet weren’t delicate flowers begging to be rescued. They held their secrets close, and they were dangerous secrets.
And no matter how many times he’d read over the Four Books and Five Classics, he couldn’t seem to vanquish that bastard of an imperial exam.
To add to all that, Yue-ying didn’t want his gift and had thrown it back in his face.
So his thoughts weren’t exactly orderly.
He’d had certain aspirations for that hairpin he’d given her. Seeing her wearing it. Removing it carefully and laying it by the bedside while he unpinned the rest of her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders.
Now he had to think of a different gift. A better one that would put a light in her eyes and make her smile. Maybe earn him another kiss. She was so deadly serious all the time. Couldn’t she just accept a small sign of affection from him and be happy? But her life was controlled by her mistress. Yue-ying didn’t dare breathe if Mingyu didn’t let her.
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be indentured to someone like that.
The dice rattled and rattled before the dealer set the tumbler down. Three fives. Hmm...he’d wagered triples that round. Happiness surged through him, as if he’d had anything to do with that triumph.
A thin man dressed in the robes of a tradesman had moved into the spot beside him at the table. Rather than placing a bet, he huddled there and stared at the numbers with a surly air. Huang spared him only a glance before placing his next bet. As the dice clattered away in the dealer’s hands the man mumbled something.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Be careful,” the stranger muttered. He was still staring at the table.
Huang made a face, bemused. “Be careful with my money, you mean?”
“With your life.”
Huang straightened, his muscles pulling tight. The gambling den wasn’t particularly crowded, but there were gamblers at every table. A quick glance showed the burly enforcer was standing near the door to the back room.
“And watch over that half-moon whore of yours.”
With that, the stranger stood and wove around the tables toward the door. Fists clenched, Bai Huang started after him.
“My lord, your money!”
The dealer’s shout brought him back to his senses. What was he doing chasing after some vagabond? Damn reckless of him. He returned to the table, but blood was still rushing in his ears. That bastard had threatened him and, worse, had also threatened Yue-ying.
The candle was still burning, but his desire to play had staled. He shoved the money forward, losing it all in a short, brutal run. It only put him in a worse mood. When he stepped out into the street, his gut was churning with anger.
The night was warm and the streets quiet. He took his lantern and started toward the Pingkang li, watching each corner warily. He had been prying in quite a few places, stirring the pot, and someone had taken offense. Someone who knew him well enough to connect him to Yue-ying. He needed to go to her right now and see that she was safe.
He heard the footsteps behind him, too out of rhythm to be an echo. Huang drew the knife he kept strapped beneath his sleeve and turned slowly and deliberately.
“Who’s there?” He lifted the lantern with one hand. His other hand gripped his knife.
To whoever was following him, he wanted to appear steady. Confident. In his time away from the capital, he’d learned how much a fight was determined in the first moments: when the assailant made the decision whether or not you were worth the trouble.
A whip-thin figure emerged from the shadows. The crooked, angular features were unmistakable, even in dimness of the lantern light.
“Gao.”
Gao held up his hands, palms out. “I mean you no harm.”
That was not reassuring.
Before Huang could reply, Gao’s wolf-eyes flicked just behind him. A knife materialized from nowhere, taking flight past Huang’s ear to embed itself into something solid. He swung around in time to see the gang of cutthroats emerge from the alleyways and unlit pockets along the street. One staggered to the ground, a knife protruding from his neck. There were four more—too close and getting closer.
Huang threw the lantern at the lead man’s head, catching the dull glint of a blade in his hand before the light shifted. The cutthroat shoved the lantern aside and Huang moved in. He went for the weapon arm, hitting at the wrist before locking the arm at the elbow.
He didn’t pause to celebrate. Instead he struck the assailant square in the face, feeling the crack of the nose beneath his fist. A broken nose wasn’t a serious injury, but it didn’t take much pressure to bring tears to an opponent’s eyes, blurring his vision.
Gao sent another knife flying. Huang didn’t have time to see where it struck; he only knew that it did from the answering grunt of pain.
“Come on!” Gao turned and fled.