by Jeannie Lin
“I bet you’d be a fearsome player,” he said.
“I would be.”
“You’d be like that one.”
A player on the green team wove his horse between two opponents to strike the ball down the field.
“Fearless,” Gao concluded.
“Invincible,” she concurred, wishing it were true. She’d never played before in her life.
Another player from the green team hit the ball into the end gate and a cheer went up from the crowd.
“We learned how to ride from my father,” she told him. “There was a time when he’d taken my brother and I with him to an appointment in the north, to the open grassland. My mother says that’s why my brother and I are so wild. Too much freedom as children.”
His lips quirked. “Yet some would say you can do no wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen you outside your home, and you weren’t at the market or the temple,” he pointed out.
“I’m obediently wild,” she countered.
Gao conceded with a laugh. She liked talking to Gao. She never knew where the conversation would take her. The truth was she was bolder around him. She liked that too.
“Is your father still in the north?” he asked.
“He’s stationed closer now, in the region between Hedong protectorate and the capital. The Ministry of Defense is concerned about a jiedushi operating so close to Chang’an.”
“Your father is there as a buffer then.”
The jiedushi were generals who’d held authority over their lands. They swore loyalty to the Emperor, but commanded their own armies. Lin Shidao was one such warlord.
“His command is too small to defend against Hedong’s governor should he move against the capital. Father always says his job is to prevent war and keep the region stable. The imperial court is in constant fear of uprising from its own generals.”
She realized Gao was watching her and not the match.
“The things you say,” he marveled.
She blushed. Whatever Gao thought of her, she wasn’t insignificant. Someone who needed to be hidden away and sheltered.
“One can’t grow up in our household without hearing this sort of talk over tea,” she dismissed.
“It’s not just talk, Wei-wei. Anyone can see you’ve studied for a long time.”
She blushed even harder. “Have you been out of the city?” she asked, trying to shift the focus.
“I was born in Chang’an, left, came back.”
Wei-wei frowned. “What a disappointing story.”
“My story would certainly be disappointing.”
“I don’t think so.”
Gao was one of the most interesting people she’d met. There was a layer of mystery to him. Or maybe she found him fascinating for all the reasons he thought her amusing.
“Why did you come back?” she asked.
“I remembered life being different here,” he replied slowly. “Easier. But when I came back, it wasn’t better or easier. Everything had changed.”
“There’s a story of a man who helped rescue a young maiden,” she began. “He escorted her home safely and her father invited him to a feast to thank him. But everything seemed different there. The food and drink were all things he’d never seen before. When he woke the next morning, he returned to the road to find that a hundred years had passed. It turned out that the maiden’s father was the Dragon King and dragon time is different from our time.”
“See, that’s an interesting story.”
“I always thought it was sad. The dragons thought they were rewarding him, but they just couldn’t see the world the way he did. When he came back, everything he knew was gone.”
Gao found a spot in the grass to they could sit. The actual spectators were on the other side of the field, seated beneath an awning. They looked like smudges of paint in the distance.
“Did you ever have a name besides Gao?”
“I’ve forgotten it.”
“How can one forget his own name?” she asked, incredulous. She regretted her tone when she saw his flat expression. “Oh, I’m sorry. Some people don’t have…I mean, are not attached to family—”
She felt a pang of sadness as she said it. Her family was everything to her.
“I had family.”
There was a quietness in his voice she’d never heard before. She didn’t dare say anything more. They both fell silent, eyes fixed onto the polo match though neither paid any attention to it.
“My father was imprisoned for taking bribes,” Gao said. “He didn’t hold any high office. He was just a tax collector.”
Wei-wei stiffened. Her skin flushed with shame on his behalf. She wanted to apologize for asking such intrusive questions and prying into his life.
“Gao is my family name,” he told her. “It’s the only thing I kept…from before.”
A cheer went up in the stands on the other side of the field. Someone had scored a goal. It gave them something to focus their attention on momentarily.
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t apologize,” he cut her off. “You don’t need to worry about politeness around me. I don’t have any manners anyway. It’s so rare that we see one another, better not to waste time.”
She couldn’t help but feel chastised, but she knew Gao didn’t want her to act wounded. Still, it was a pause before she could find something to say.
“You do have some manners,” she observed, matter-of-fact.
“Do I?”
“Your diction. I always wondered about that.”
He turned to her. “I don’t even know what that means, Wei-wei.” His crooked smile was a peace offering.
“Your manner of speaking. Your phrasing is, at times, very formal. It confused me at first.”
“Because you couldn’t figure out how to treat me?”
She ignored his challenge…for now.
He glanced upward, as if considering her words. Then he nodded slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was agreement.
“It’s why we have such unusual conversations,” she concluded. “Neither one of knows what’s proper.”
“I like our conversations,” he admitted.
A ball of warmth grew in her chest.
Another roar came from the crowd. The match had come to an end.
“My team won,” she declared.
“You chose well.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out a coil of red silk. He paused then, running his teeth over his bottom lip. It was the first time she’d seen any sign of awkwardness from him.
“Your prize,” he said.
To her astonishment, he handed her the red silk, his palm lingering over hers. She smoothed the coil out with shaking fingers and discovered it was a bracelet.
“It’s so pretty,” she said, admiring the intricate knot looped into it.
“We should go. The crowd is leaving.”
He helped her to her feet, his hand firm over her arm. Unexpectedly she felt tears forming in her eyes as soon as he let go.
“I should tell you what I found out yesterday,” he said, starting to walk. “It really took a long time to work out.”
She was grateful he hadn’t noticed anything. A tear spilled over her cheek and she swiped it away roughly. The bracelet was crushed in her fist--she was afraid to let it go. It was such a simple gesture. Why was she falling apart?
Beside her Gao was talking about current and calculations and time tables. She didn’t hear half of it, and didn’t understand the half she did hear. She fell back a step, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears on her face as she struggled to compose herself.
Gao stopped when she did. Wei-wei hastily pressed her sleeve to her eyes.
“Lady Bai?” he stepped close, his voice filled with concern.
She was grateful for the current fashion of oversized sleeves. She tried to hide behind hers now. It wasn’t subtle, but she’d lost any hope of subtlety.
“Wei-wei, what’s wrong?�
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Gently, he tried to lower her arm while she fought him stubbornly. It was comical, if she could separate herself from her body to watch the show.
“I used to bribe the matchmaker!” she blurted out.
“Wh—what?”
“I knew all it would take was for that gossipy old auntie to say, the Bai family has a daughter who’s this and that—and then it would be out of my hands. So, I paid her not to mention me.”
“Alright.” He didn’t understand.
“I was so certain I had nothing to worry about. I’m twenty-five years old. You would think that would be beyond marriageable.”
“Yes. Way beyond marriage,” he agreed, pressing his lips together as they threatened to curve upward.
“A spinster,” she emphasized with a sob.
How could she ever make Gao understand? He went wherever he pleased. Wei-wei was just beginning to enjoy the taste of freedom. Mother had stopped trying to seek out suitable sons for her. She had taken an important role tutoring her brother, and now Huang wanted her to help him with his important work as well. Their family had not one, but two male children to carry on the family line. And they had enough wealth to feed a sister consigned to spinsterhood.
“I’m certain my mother wants to make a match between me and—” She sniffed loudly. This was so awful, but she couldn’t stop. Not until she explained to him how awful today was. “A match between me and Li Chen!”
“Who’s Li Chen?”
“The magistrate. Li Chen. Magistrate Li,” she choked out, at once frustrated and heart-broken.
Gao was standing so, so close. Close enough that she could press her forehead to his chest if she dared. But she didn’t dare.
“I know I’m not making any sense.”
“No, you are. You are,” he said quietly.
Her face was so flooded with tears that Gao was only a dark blur through them. His hands curved over her shoulders, steadying her, trying to soothe her. But everything he did was only making it worse. The bracelet, the way he was being so kind to her now.
“You don’t understand,” she insisted in desperation.
“I do,” he said, cradling her face between calloused hands before he kissed her.
He tasted of salt. It was from her own tears. She could barely see him, but she could feel his mouth against hers, touching lightly. The world tilted and spun.
She pressed her lips back against his, not knowing the way of this. It was like their conversations — awkward and unwieldy, yet still the best thing in the world.
Which made everything worse.
“Stop—”
His mouth still caressed hers even as she tore away. She ran to hide just on the other side of the tree and squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart beat furiously.
She was thinking of too many things at once. How long she’d been away from home. Her mother looking so happy. The loneliness inside her. It was always there, this loneliness. Happiness only came from wanting her family to be happy.
Wei-wei breathed deep, trying to force back the swell of emotion rising in her chest. Threatening to burst out of her.
She’d just lost her first kiss to someone who was unsuitable, and now she had to go home and pretend that heaven and earth hadn’t changed places.
Chapter 8
Wei-wei was on the other side of the tree where he couldn’t see her. He leaned his head back against the wood and closed his eyes.
“Wei-wei,” he began gently.
“Please don’t speak.”
He fell immediately silent. Just like he’d stopped kissing her when she’d asked. Just like he’d remained ridiculously hidden behind this tree when she’d said she needed to calm herself, and she couldn’t as long as she could see him. He’d done all this even though he needed to touch her more than he needed to breathe. Could Wei-wei feel his heart beat through the wood? It was pounding so hard.
He did all this and everything she asked, no matter how foolish. He’d been compelled to indulge her every whim from the first moment he’d seen her. She had a way of convincing people — at least of convincing him. She had a way of rushing headlong into things, though maybe this time he was the one who’d acted before thinking.
Wei-wei was not the sort of girl he was allowed to kiss.
“I didn’t plan to do that,” he said.
Her reply came from the other side of the tree. “I thought we weren’t going to apologize.” She still sounded choked up. There was a long pause. “Why did you do it then?”
“I don’t know. I must like spinsters.”
He could hear muffled laugher.
Wei-wei.
“What was it that you were saying before? About the body by the canal?” she asked, sounding a little steadier.
“It was nothing.”
“You said you’re working with former Constable Wu?”
“Not exactly. He did some calculations. Made a list of times.”
“Times?”
“Like a schedule. A map of where the crime could have occurred along the river and when.”
Moments ago, they had been kissing and now they were talking about death and crime. And it was still wonderful. A wonderful madness.
“That’s brilliant,” she said. He peeked around just enough to catch her wiping at her eyes. “The magistrate can focus his investigation.”
The magnificent Magistrate Li. “I was going to go to him, but I have another idea.”
“What is it?”
Catch the killer and be a hero. Why not? “I’m still thinking on it.”
He really didn’t have any plan yet, but whatever it was, he was going to do it without going to Li Chen, if he could help it.
When she finally came around, he caught a glimpse of the red cord around her wrist before she pulled her sleeve over it. They kept an arm’s length between them as the returned to the streets. He was aware of every inch apart.
“We should say farewell here,” Wei-wei said when they reached the front of the temple.
The Bai mansion was at the end of the avenue. She turned to face him. “Tell me how your plan works out, once you…think on it.”
“I will.”
Their gazes locked for a devastating moment. Her pupils were dark and endless, and he could already feel himself falling into them. Thinking things, dreaming things. He would slay tigers for her if she asked.
“I’ve been away a long time. My family will wonder what I’ve been doing.”
Her expression said she knew there would be trouble, but she didn’t care. He waited for the very last glimpse of her as she disappeared down the street before he turned to go.
As much as Gao hated it, he did need to enlist Magistrate Li after all.
He went to the magistrate’s yamen and provided the time table he had drawn up with a suggestion to look for disturbances along the canal on the night of the murder. He’d expected Li would scoff at his suggestion, but the man was actually reasonable.
The official pulled out the reports from that night himself. He sat at his desk flipping through the pages while Gao stood, feeling outclassed and outmatched because the small inked characters actually meant something to this man.
“Here.” Magistrate Li planted a finger on top of an entry in the log book. “A horse was reported loose in Xingan ward that night. No one claimed him. That’s valuable property for no one to come forward.”
“Good. Now you just need to make two arrests in that ward,” Gao proposed.
“On what evidence?” Li asked.
Gao made a face. “You require evidence to make an arrest?”
The magistrate went to pull the door shut.
That night, Magistrate Li insisted Gao come along as he and his constables carried out the plan. As he crowded into the wagon, Gao had to begrudgingly admit that, though Li looked pampered and proper, he was apparently the sort of magistrate who joined the ranks of his men.
He had to respect an official who voluntarily stayed up half the nigh
t if it meant catching an outlaw.
Even though Gao would be considered an outlaw.
Even though Gao really didn’t like the man.
“It’s night time,” Li observed. “Most of the streets are empty, how will anyone know of this?”
“All it takes is some gossipy street urchin to say an army of constables stormed in and this and that,” Gao said.
They needed a spectacle and the magistrate appeared ready to deliver. They rode in a wagon along with eight men armed with swords, clubs and pikes. All in all, it was a strange turn of events; Gao the Knife riding alongside so many uniformed constables with swords at their side. Luckily there were no bulletins with Gao’s likeness posted on the walls.
The wards had been locked down since sun down, but they were on official business. The guards pulled the gates open and the wagon rolled the center of the ward by the canal. The constables stationed themselves near the bridge and then waited.
The pair arrived within the half hour, with the lead man ringing a bell to warn people of the coming of the night soil collectors so innocent bystanders could dart out of the way. The warning was unnecessary. The night soil men had the unsavory job of collecting waste from chamber pots throughout the city. They’d then sell the night soil to farmers in the southern part of the capital to fertilize their crops. You could smell the night soil collectors from a hundred paces away and, if an unfortunate breeze happened to blow the wrong way while they were near, you couldn’t run fast enough.
Gao felt a bit guilty for targeting the collectors, but they were known to work throughout the night and their routes took them past every house. If anyone could be witness to this crime, it was the night soil collectors.
The constables advanced on the pair and shouted for them to halt.
Lawmen liked to say that only the guilty run, but that wasn’t true. The younger of the two night soil men took one look at the armed horde and flung his bucket of shit at them before turning to run.
Luckily, Gao had remained a safe distance away. Magistrate Li had wisely done the same, leaving his constables to take the brunt of the attack.