She shook her head, completely absorbed with the tale.
“He jumped on me and started punching me hard in the arm, saying, ‘You scoundrel! I didn’t think I was going to get beaten so badly.’”
Yue-ying erupted into laughter. “The noble hero indeed. Did you fight back?”
“Of course not! I knew I deserved it. Lord Bai took his revenge, which wasn’t so bad since he hadn’t been in any fights to really know how to hit hard, and we have been friends ever since.”
She imagined Bai Huang as a restless boy bent over his books, but in his head always plotting escape. Even then he’d shown a sense of self-sacrifice, knowing the punishment for Zhou Dan would have been so much worse than his own.
By the time they returned to the residence, the afternoon was fading into the last slow hours before evening. Zhou Dan went to secure the horse and carriage off to the side of the house. Apparently, his instructions were to stay with her. Bai Huang was concerned for her safety, which was nearly as touching as his concern for Mingyu. He might be idealistic and caught up in notions of romance and heroism, but he was a good person at heart.
She wished she could be as blind as he was and accept his protection. He was wealthy, he was privileged and she had nothing without Mingyu. Certainly she owed him for all he had done for her. But the thought of obligation between them left her cold. She would be anyone else’s servant but his. With Bai Huang, she wanted to believe she was more than she was, if only for a little while.
As Yue-ying headed to the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea for Zhou Dan she remembered that Bai Huang wasn’t the only person who had offered her protection. Instead of the kitchen, she went to the bedchamber.
The past two nights had been spent there with Bai Huang, the first night in his arms and the second one pressed far to the opposite side of the bed, yet wanting him the entire time. She’d thought nothing more of the silver she’d tucked underneath.
She crouched and reached for the bundle hidden behind one of the wooden legs. It was small, fitting neatly into both of her palms, but heavy. A knot formed in her chest as she pulled the cloth aside.
When Taizhu had given the silver to her, she had been out on the street. One did not display wealth openly for fear of tempting thieves, so she had only taken a quick peek before stowing it away. And with Bai Huang’s hospitality, she had little need for silver. She had hoped if things ended well, she could leave the silver for him to repay his generosity.
She knew it was a stupid gesture. Bai Huang didn’t need her money and the thought of her actually paying someone like him would have made even the humorless Constable Wu laugh.
Picking up one of the silver ingots, she recalled Wu Kaifeng’s explanation in the record room. There were five taels of silver in there and they were all the same. The rectangular tablets were inscribed with a flower, a design she had seen at the magistrate’s yamen. She covered up the silver and tucked the stash back beneath the bed before rushing out.
Zhou Dan had just entered the courtyard when she intercepted him and bade him to turn back around. “I need you to take me somewhere else.”
“But it will be dark before long.”
“Then we must go quickly.”
He obliged her without further argument, as if she were a well-born lady instead of a woman of the street. The poor horse was given only a moment’s rest before he was untethered and hitched back onto the carriage. Soon they were once more on the road, this time traveling past the markets and farther north to the grand residences adjacent to the imperial city.
She had known of Taizhu’s background, though he preferred not to speak of it. His family was involved in commerce, considered lowly by the aristocracy. They were wealthy merchants. It was possible they engaged in money-lending in Yangzhou, molding their silver into ingots stamped with the city flower.
By the time the carriage stopped before a modestly sized house, the last of the daylight had faded. The house was surrounded by a wall and there was a wooden placard over the front gate painted with what Yue-ying assumed must have been Taizhu’s name and official title.
Zhou Dan stepped down from the carriage and moved to help her, holding his arm out. No one met them at the front when she rang the bell, but the gate wasn’t locked. When they entered the courtyard, the house was eerily quiet around them. Yue-ying considered for a moment that it had been abandoned, but she spied a light flickering from the interior.
“Xueshi?”
she called out, using the honorific reserved for academics.
“Miss Yue-ying?” Taizhu’s broad-shouldered form appeared beneath the shadow of the portico. He beckoned her forward.
“Mingyu was arrested.” She rarely spoke to the scholar outside of Mingyu’s presence and she hoped her directness wouldn’t be taken as impolite. “She’s being kept in the prison house and refuses to speak in her own defense.”
His head was bare of its usual scholar’s cap and his gray hair was combed back and fixed with a wooden pin. He spared Zhou Dan a quick glance before returning to her.
“Let us speak inside.”
His tone was grave. Zhou Dan remained by the door as the old historian led her through a beaded curtain into the parlor. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was warmly lit with yellow lanterns, which allowed her to appreciate the elegant furnishings. A painted screen separated out the sitting area and a long scroll decorated one wall, adorned with a few simple characters written in bold brushstrokes against a stark background of white. It was a room worthy of a distinguished scholar.
Taizhu seated her on the settee before bending over a tray to prepare tea. His hands moved with ease, scooping leaves into the bottom of the cups, lifting the clay pot with one hand to pour the hot water, the other hand holding back the length of his sleeve. Even his house robe was opulently cut.
“These are the finest leaves,” he began. “A tribute tea from the Mengshan Mountain region, gifted by the imperial court.”
He placed the two cups onto the table with lids covering them to allow the leaves to steep. His manner was polite and solicitous. It was strange enough to have such a gentleman exchanging pleasantries with her and, due to his venerable status, she found it difficult to interrupt his tea ritual even though a burning question hovered on her lips.
After a few moments had passed, he made a gesture inviting her to drink. She sipped obediently, using the lid to hold back any floating leaves.
“I understand that you and Mingyu are very close,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re worried about her, of course.”
Taizhu seemed to be meditating over his cup. She noticed a slight tremor in his hands as he set the tea back down untouched.
“
Xueshi
, there was a banquet a little over a month ago held on a pleasure boat in the Grand Canal. Mingyu and Huilan were in attendance. You know what happened to them that night, don’t you?”
His gaze lifted sharply before dropping back to his hands, which he rested over his knees. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “I feel like I must apologize. You see, I come from somewhat humble beginnings. My family line wasn’t one of distinguished scholars and academicians. We are merchants, as you may know.”
She nodded as an invitation for him to continue.
“Not merely merchants. What I mean to say is that we were privateers. Generations of my family became wealthy through trade, but not all of our activities were strictly sanctioned by the government. We made connections in Changan that allowed me to study in the academies of the capital and take the palace exams. I passed in the top tier the first time I took them, ranked third out of the entire class,” he boasted before his expression darkened. “I worked harder than any of the aristocrats with their tutors and expensive connections, yet even now there are still insinuations that my family bought my degree. That my position in the Hanlin Academy came about through bribes.”
Yue-ying cast about, uncomfortable with the impassioned nature of his confession. She hadn’t seen anyone but Taizhu in the entire house.
“Where are your servants?” she asked, her shoulders tensing.
“I sent them away. It’s best that they not be here to witness my shame. All of my achievements, everything I’ve worked for gone because of a moment’s impulse. At first, I thought I could continue as if nothing had happened, but I can see now that’s impossible.”
An awful realization came to her as to why he was acting so strangely. She had come there thinking he’d known about what Huilan and Mingyu had done. They had confided in him and he’d given Huilan silver to help her leave the city. Now Taizhu was sounding as if he was much closer to the crime.
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Did you kill Huilan?”
“No! What gave you that impression? I killed that vermin, that slave trader. Mingyu stabbed at him and I dragged him to the water. I held him under until he stopped moving.”
“But—”
“What, you don’t believe me?” He was in a fervor now, puffing out his chest and thumping it loudly. “I was a fair wrestler in my day.”
“You were with Mingyu and Huilan that night?”
“I killed a man with these two hands.” He held them out and stared at them as if they belonged to someone else.
It was the historian who had taken the stranger’s life. Her blood heated. “Mingyu kept silent to protect you? You’re a man of rank and status while Mingyu is nothing, and yet you hide behind her? You have to confess.”
His shoulders sank and some of the bravado drained from him. “I know what I must do, but you have to understand why it took me so long. These same hands passed the palace exams, the first ever in my family.”
He slumped over his chair with a hand over his face. Despite his sharp tongue, he had always been kind and generous to Mingyu.
“You were very brave that night,” she said, her tone gentle. “I know you will do the honorable thing now.”
He nodded slowly, running a hand over his robe to straighten it. “Mingyu made me swear to take care of the child. She thought to turn herself over to the magistrate and protect my name so that the girl would be safe, but what man allows such a sacrifice and says nothing? I’ve been a coward. I must give the child over to you.”
“The girl is here?”
A loud noise came from the courtyard, and then the sounds of struggle.
“Miss! Run—”
Zhou Dan’s cry came from outside, cut off by a harsh grunt and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
Two figures burst in through the curtain, ripping through the strings of beads. Taizhu shot to his feet and threw up his arm, catching one intruder across the chest and sending him to the floor. He grappled with the second man, wrapping his arms around the man’s torso and hefting him up with a startling display of strength for a gray-haired academic.
Yue-ying shrank back, too stunned to move. A blade flashed within the struggle and Taizhu slumped over. The blow had been soundless, the consequence unfathomably quick.
The intruders turned and her instincts came to life. Yue-ying grabbed at her teacup and flung the contents into the face of the closest attacker. By now, the tea was only warm, but it was enough to startle him.
There was no time to think. She didn’t dare look back as she struggled to her feet. Grabbing on to the painted screen at the edge of the room, she shoved it toward her attackers before running for the corridor. From behind her came the sound of crashing wood and the tear of silk.
Her heart pounded as she stared down the hallway. The house was a maze and she was trapped inside it. She ran away from the light in the parlor, hoping to hide in the darkness. A doorway appeared just around the corner and she ducked inside.
The chamber was dark, but she heard a sound from the far corner, almost like the whimper of a kitten. Yue-ying approached slowly and saw a small figure crouched behind a trunk.
Yue-ying knelt down beside her. “I’m a friend.”
Two small arms wrapped around her neck and held on tight. From her size, the girl couldn’t be more than six or seven years old.
“What’s your name?”
Yue-ying had to repeat it twice in a whisper before the girl replied, “Hana.”
From what Yue-ying could make of the room, there wasn’t much inside. Nothing that could be used as a weapon and few places to hide. Hana trembled as footsteps echoed through the hall. Yue-ying tried to soothe her, holding the child tight though she was shaking hard herself. They were cornered and sooner or later they would be found.
“Hana, you need to try to get away and get help. Do you understand?”
There was no reply. Hana held on to her neck and murmured something unintelligible in the darkness. She had been brought here from some distant province and probably understood very little of the dialect of the capital.
Yue-ying knew why Mingyu had needed to rescue this child. Yue-ying had been only a few years older than this girl when she had been brought to the city, lost and confused and just as frightened.
Gently, she freed herself from Hana’s arms and spoke slowly, hoping the girl would understand enough.
“Run,” she said, pointing to the door. “Run and find the city guards.”