“Now I wonder why there are no imperial exams for women?” Mingyu chimed in, filling the tense silence.
Her suggestion was met with equal parts chuckling and enthusiastic support.
“A new exam would need to be designed. With a different set of questions,” Taizhu proposed.
“Why should the process be any different for a woman? I would welcome the privilege of being able to fail the imperial exams.” She gave Bai Huang a sly look and he beamed.
“Let us enforce a new rule.” Mingyu held up her hand dramatically and everyone quieted to listen. In this social gathering, she was official hostess and acting magistrate. “This is a festival night. Anyone who mentions exams or appointments or politics—” she cast Taizhu a pointed look, which he accepted with good humor “—must take a penalty drink and be subjected to a punishment of the group’s choosing.”
Everyone raised their cups to make the decree official and, with that, peace was restored. Yue-ying was moving around the table to refill cups when another arrival stepped onto the pavilion deck. Mingyu stared at the man in the dark robe without recognition.
“Wu Kaifeng, the head constable,” Yue-ying informed her.
She had mentioned the body found in the river, but Mingyu hadn’t been particularly interested in the crime or the presence of a new constable. It was bad luck to speak of death, so the Pingkang li went on as if a corpse hadn’t recently drifted ashore practically at their gate.
Constable Wu came directly to them. His gaze passed over the gathering and he managed a stiff bow. Afterward, he straightened and stood rigidly, uncomfortable with the surroundings. Though he held an appointed position, he was still a working man, subservient to nearly everyone present. He addressed the magistrate.
“Sir, there is a matter that needs your attention.” His austere countenance cast gloom over the banquet just as it had by the river.
“Please excuse us.” Li Yen stood and the two men moved to stand beside one of the columns.
After a brief exchange, the magistrate returned. “My apologies for leaving so early. Lady Mingyu.” He bowed once to her, before turning to Bai Huang. “Lord Bai, I am happy to have met you, but regret that we didn’t get to converse at any length. Perhaps you would like to walk with me?”
Bai Huang tilted his head in surprise. A confused smile touched his lips, but he stood and took his leave as well, leaving behind more than one set of raised eyebrows.
* * *
T
HE
EVENING
WAS
warm and all the lanterns of the North Hamlet were aglow, prolonging the festival atmosphere of the day. It would have been a good night for walking, except it was difficult to feel comfortable with Li Yen beside him and his dark and brooding servant trailing behind.
It was well-known that the Li and Bai clans supported different factions in the imperial court, with Chancellor Li Deyu dominating the court for the reign of the last two emperors. A distant relation, the magistrate would insist.
“This was my first Duanwu in the capital,” Magistrate Li remarked as they continued down the lane. “I found the festival very enjoyable.”
“A good day indeed,” Huang concurred. “My dragonboat won today so I have a heavy purse to show for it. Are we headed to the center of the Three Lanes?”
“My apologies for this delay. Has Lord Bai ever been to the House of a Hundred Songs?”
The hairs on the back of Huang’s neck rose. “The Hundred Songs boasts a few of the most talented courtesans in the district...outside of Lady Mingyu, of course.”
“I promised to make an appearance there tonight,” Li said smoothly. “If you don’t mind accompanying me?”
Li turned onto the central lane and Huang followed dutifully, keeping his guard up. The magistrate’s soft-spoken manner hid a well of ambition.
The Hundred Songs was always a cheerful place. Huang was known there as well. The house wasn’t nearly as grand in style or reputation as the Lotus Palace, but pink lanterns and carved phoenixes gave it a romantic look. The atmosphere inside was busy, but more muted than the revelry they had left behind. The hostess greeted them with some reserve.
“Why so quiet this evening, Little Plum?” Huang asked with a smile.
Mei ducked her head and beckoned them to follow her. Music floated throughout the halls, a harmonious blend of the rain-song sound of the pipa and the trill of a flute. The three of them followed the courtesan to the second floor. Huang became more aware of Constable Wu’s heavy step behind him. Just ahead of him, Magistrate Li was chattering about music.
“Our household employed an old musician who played the pipa,” Li was saying. “He tried to teach me once, but I had no talent for it.”
The magistrate was filling the silence with nonsense—this from a man known for being very skilled with words. They halted at a door midway down the hall and Mei met his eyes briefly, before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.
As he followed Magistrate Li into the chamber, Huang was very much aware they had gone directly to the quarters without any question or introduction. He also knew who typically entertained in these rooms. The sitting area was empty, but the curtain to the inner chamber was open.
Huilan was lying on the bed, her head thrown back.
Huang went to her. Her name caught in his throat, his head pounding while he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. A faint hope flickered in him as he took hold of her wrist, but he already knew. He had known the moment he’d seen her. Huilan’s complexion was no longer moon-pale and luminous. It was colorless. The stillness about her went beyond sleep. There was no way to describe it, but he recognized the aberration of it immediately.
He sank down to his knees on the floor, unable to take his eyes off her. Her throat was bruised. Someone had ruined it forever. She would never sing again.
“She’s dead,” he said heavily, a part of him feeling dead as well. He’d just seen her that morning.
“You knew her?” Magistrate Li asked.
“Everyone knew Huilan,” he replied sharply. “She was one of the Four Beauties.”
The other two men were watching impassively by the door. Huang clenched his fists as anger heated his veins. They had known Huilan was dead and brought him there to watch his reaction. She’d been left alone all this time.
A knot formed in his chest. He was confused and horrified and at a loss for anything intelligent to say.
“Perhaps you should come out here,” Magistrate Li suggested quietly.
Huang nodded. He took one final look at Huilan. She was the youngest of the Beauties. Her cheeks were gently rounded, which evoked a fresh-faced innocence. The violence was all the worse for that.
* * *
“D
ID
YOU
SPEAK
with Huilan earlier today?” Magistrate Li asked.
They were in the sitting room just outside the courtesan’s chamber. Huang looked up from his tea, which had gone cold. “At the Grand Canal during the race.”
Li nodded gravely. “She was so full of youth and beauty. Such a tragedy. Do you come to the Hundred Songs often?”
“Once in a while. Huilan sang the last time I was here.”
Huang ran a hand over his face. Huilan had been evasive that morning, but he should have insisted she explain herself. He should have never let her leave alone. He should have remembered the look of fear in her eyes when they’d first spoken.
“Were you her lover?” Li continued.
So this was an interrogation, then.
Huang straightened and met Magistrate Li eye to eye. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Well acquainted, then.”
Li was grasping at something. The constable came forward from his station in the corner and held out a folded paper. Magistrate Li looked it over before placing it onto the table between them.
“This was found lying beside Lady Huilan’s bed.” His finger rested over the red seal stamped onto the paper. “Is this your family’s mark?”
Huang knew what it was without looking. The paper he’d given Huilan was an official permit used to travel outside the gated wards after curfew.
“Did she use this to go to you at night?”
“I told you, we were not lovers,” he said evenly.
Magistrate Li stared him down. “How did Lady Huilan come to possess this pass?”
“She must have taken it from me.”
“Without your knowledge?”
His lips lifted sardonically. “I often drink too much.”
Huilan had asked for his help to leave the quarter. He often moved freely through the wards at night, one of the privileges of the aristocracy, and he’d assumed that was why she’d gone to him.
“Madame Lui can speak to the extent of my association with Lady Huilan,” Huang said. “The life of a courtesan isn’t very private.”
At that moment, the headmistress entered with Mei and a younger girl, two of Huilan’s courtesan-sisters. There were tears in the older woman’s eyes.
“Madame Lui.”
She clasped her hands around his. “You find who did this. She was like a daughter to me!”
Madame Lui had been a great beauty herself in her youth and remained a handsome woman now, despite the redness around her eyes. She sniffed into a handkerchief.
Magistrate Li came over from the sitting area and addressed Mei. “I understand that you were the first to find her.”
The young courtesan nodded. “We were entertaining a large party in the banquet room. Huilan was acting as hostess while I was there to assist her. Everyone was in a happy mood and drinking wine for the festival. After an hour, Huilan complained of a headache. She told me to play a song and keep the party occupied while she went upstairs to rest for a little while, but she was gone for so long I finally went up to check on her. The moment I opened the door, I knew she wasn’t sleeping.” Mei’s voice cracked and she buried her face in her hands.
Magistrate Li gave her a moment before continuing. “Miss, who was in the banquet room?”
“Commissioner Ma and a few of his friends. I...I don’t remember everyone’s name.” She looked helplessly to Madame Lui.
“They are all regular patrons who have come here many times,” the headmistress told them.
Huang wondered why the second girl had been brought in, but Magistrate Li didn’t question her the same way he had spoken to Mei. Instead, the constable went to her. Towering a full head and shoulders over the younger girl, he spoke to her in a quiet tone. She looked over at Huang and shook her head.
Li turned back to him. “I apologize for intruding, Lord Bai. You understand such questions must be asked. We must continue our conversation at another time.”
He bowed in kind. “Of course, Magistrate Li.”
If it weren’t for his lineage, Huang was certain he would have been dragged to the prison house. He started toward the door, trying to remember everything Huilan had told him. As he passed an end table he noticed a writing box lying open behind the vase. The brush had been set over the top of the case and the ink appeared fresh.
Li Yen’s voice rang after him. “Before you go, Lord Bai.”
He turned to see both men watching him.
“I should ask you where you were earlier this evening—as a matter of procedure, of course,” Li assured him.
“At the Lotus Palace,” he replied easily. “Conversing with the magistrate himself.”
“Yes, but I do recall you were a bit late arriving.”
“I had forgotten.” Huang faced him without flinching. “I was delightfully delayed downstairs. A conversation with a charming young lady.”
He had followed Yue-ying into the wine cellar hoping for a private moment away from the parlors and banquets. The plan was to be charming, to humble himself, make her laugh. But he had been mistaken about how he’d be received. Apparently, he was mistaken about many things lately.
“Ah, your alley cat?” Li recalled.
“Yes.” Now was not the time to play the fool. “The very same creature.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I
T
WAS
AN
obsessed patron who had done it.
It was a thief who was interrupted while trying to steal her jewels.
It was the ghost of a scholar who had killed himself out of love for her.
Or maybe it was a jealous rival, who saw how the young and talented Huilan was rising in popularity in the North Hamlet.
“Nonsense!” Mingyu snorted when Yue-ying recounted all the theories she’d heard.
“About the ghost or—”
“The gossipmongers always have to infuse rivalry into everything. As if we’re filled with envy and ready to tear at each other just because we’re women. I’m devastated by Huilan’s death. She was so sweet-natured to everyone.”
Mingyu appeared genuinely distraught as Yue-ying finished pinning her hair. She chose an understated look for Mingyu today, foregoing ornaments and jewels in her hair and only using a light trace of color on her lips and cheeks. They had found out the day before about Huilan’s death and the entire quarter was in mourning.
“The worst of it is there is a murderer in the Pingkang li and we don’t know who it is. How can any of us feel safe?”
Yue-ying sighed. For all her worldliness, Mingyu was so sheltered. “The stranger in the canal was also murdered, yet no one seemed to be alarmed then.”
“I thought that was an accidental drowning.”
“One does not accidentally drown and then climb back into a boat,” Yue-ying pointed out.
“Oh,” Mingyu said, dismissing the loss of that life with a single word. She glanced once at herself in the bronze mirror, decided what she saw was satisfactory and stood. Mingyu spent very little time preening or fixating on her appearance. “Well, I hope that Magistrate Li will find whoever did this quickly so Huilan’s spirit can be at rest.”
Mingyu left the dressing area while Yue-ying stayed behind to straighten the combs and pins and makeup pots. She had heard little about the mysterious body in the boat while she was certain the North Hamlet would be talking about Huilan long and loud. There would be a flood of verses lamenting her early passing, the silencing of her song, her tragic beauty.
She felt sadness over Huilan as well. How could she not? Huilan had been close to Yue-ying in age and so full of life. The rumors said Huilan had been strangled to death. She had died struggling and afraid, her final breath forced out of her. For that to be the last thing one felt on this Earth—
Yue-ying wiped away the tear that fell unexpectedly down her cheek. Strange to feel so deeply over someone she barely knew, someone she rarely spoke to. The last time Yue-ying had seen Huilan, they had engaged in a silly, meaningless conversation about the availability of lychees. So much of the banter of the tearooms, the pleasure houses and banquet halls was without any true meaning or purpose.
But how could she have known to say something meaningful to Huilan that morning? That it would be her last chance to do so?
Mingyu was calling her from the parlor. Yue-ying straightened to go to her, wondering if she should tell Mingyu how beautiful she was, how naive she could be, how much Mingyu’s distant nature sometimes hurt her and how much Yue-ying cared for her.
* * *
T
HE
H
UNDRED
S
ONGS
was a short walk from the Lotus. The colorful banners in front had been replaced with white drapery, signifying that the house was in mourning. The sound of chanting and the hollow tap of the prayer drum could be heard from the street. She and Mingyu had just reached the front door when a dark figure at the street corner caught her eye. Constable Wu started toward her, looming larger with every step until she was hidden in his shadow.
“Miss Yue-ying, if I may speak with you.”
She glanced over her shoulder, but Mingyu had already disappeared into the Hundred Songs to join the other mourners.
To her relief, Wu Kaifeng directed her to the nearest teahouse rather than the magistrate’s yamen, but it was difficult to relax with his iron gaze fixed on her. His height was exaggerated by his build, which was long and lean. His facial features were elongated as well, with an eagle’s nose and high cheekbones that tapered down to a sharp chin. He wasn’t an attractive man. He wasn’t entirely ugly either, but if she had to choose—she would say his face fit his position. It was an intimidating face, not one that evoked pleasant thoughts.
The server brought two bowls of the house tea and Wu gave her a chance to take a sip before speaking.
“I have questions about Lord Bai Huang. I understand you are familiar with him.”
It wasn’t posed as a question, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”
“He is close to your mistress as well?”
That raised her defenses. “Lord Bai and Lady Mingyu are no closer than the moon to the stars.”
“But he’s been courting her.”
“That’s what scholar-gentlemen do as a pastime. They ride horses, they compose poetry and they court beautiful ladies.”
Wu raised his eyebrows. They were black and as intimidating as the rest of his face.
She didn’t know why she’d spoken so cynically. It was possible Bai Huang was genuinely taken with Mingyu. She was exquisitely beautiful, with a dancer’s grace and a poet’s wit, and she made a livelihood out of captivating men.
“Why do you ask about Lord Bai?” she inquired.
“Our investigation into the death of Lady Huilan is hindered by one unfortunate fact: we suspect an aristocrat from a well-respected and powerful family.”
All the air rushed out of her. “But Lord Bai doesn’t seem to be the sort,” she gasped.
“Do you know many killers, Miss Yue-ying?” Wu asked pointedly, and it was a sharp, finely honed point at that.
She fell silent, but her mind was not at all quiet. Surely an affair between Bai Huang and Huilan couldn’t have escaped notice, but everyone had their secrets in the Pingkang li. His association with the House of a Hundred Songs could be more intimate than anyone realized.
“Bai Huang is the son of Bai Zheng-jian, a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Defense,” Wu said.
Yue-ying nodded. This was all commonly known in the quarter.
“Though the elder Lord Bai is assigned to a military post in Fujian province, the family maintains a household in the capital. I hear it told that Bai Huang only recently returned to the city, not even a year ago.”
He finished his report and looked to her expectantly.
“All I know is there was some trouble a few years ago and he was sent away,” she offered. “Something about gambling debts. I was new to the Pingkang li then.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
The constable’s constant gaze unnerved her. She swore he had the eyes of a snake, never blinking.
She thought back to the previous days. So much had happened that month with the earthquake and then the dragonboat festival the week after.
“Huilan met with someone on the first day of the new moon,” she recalled. “A young man. He was on the bridge near the temple.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Did you recognize him?”
She shook her head. “I was too far away to see.”
He paused to consider the information, prolonging the silence for so long that she began to fidget. That day had been the first time she had seen Constable Wu as well.
“I didn’t pay much attention to Lord Bai’s exploits in the past,” she continued, feeling the need to say something. It was unsettling to have Wu staring at her. “He used to have a bad reputation, a reputation for being reckless, but when he returned, his reputation transformed into something more—” She struggled for a word. Wu Kaifeng waited. “Impulsive. Ridiculous.”
She felt bad speaking poorly of Lord Bai to a stranger. Constable Wu took a long drink of his tea and glanced downward at the remaining leaves, as if scrying for an answer.
“Miss Yue-ying, I am letting you into my confidence and you must consider this information very carefully. A young man who could not be identified was seen at the Hundred Songs the night of the murder. Lord Bai met with the courtesan earlier that same day. An item that belonged to him was later found in her chamber beside the body.”
A shiver ran up her spine. “But he was at the Lotus Palace that night.”
“That brings up another interesting point. Magistrate Li recalls that Lord Bai arrived late and uninvited to the banquet.”
“He wasn’t as late as it seemed. I saw him earlier. Downstairs.” She blushed, realizing how it would look to the constable. “And when he came up to the banquet, he sat directly next to Magistrate Li and started a conversation. What criminal would do that?”
“A bold one, for certain,” Wu said thoughtfully. “One who believes he is above suspicion. There was a scratch on his face that night. I saw it myself.”
“That was my doing. We had a...a disagreement.”
“That is not quite how Lord Bai told it.”
His tone told her enough about Bai Huang’s side of the story. She could feel her cheeks heating under the constable’s scrutiny.
Wu pressed on, “Are you certain he didn’t have that scratch when he arrived?”
“I’m certain. I struck him hard across the face.”
But she had hit him in the darkness of the cellar. She hadn’t been able to see his face clearly. Doubt began to creep in like a festering wound.
“I commend you for that.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes were unusually bright. “An aristocrat of Lord Bai’s stature isn’t easy to accuse. His father’s connections within the imperial bureaucracy are very powerful and Magistrate Li has warned me that we must step carefully,” he said with a touch of ire. “In the meantime, be wary of him, Miss Yue-ying. I know when a man is hiding something.”