The Hidden Moon

by Jeannie Lin

  At that point, Gao regretted teaming up with Li Chen. He regretted his attempt at being a hero.

  He particularly regretted picking the lock, which of course highlighted that he had a questionable set of skills. And he’d done this all in a jail house under the scrutiny of county and imperial authorities. That was a particular lack of judgment.

  Despite all his misgivings, the imperial censor didn’t have Gao searched or his knife removed before questioning him. It was all very civil. Zheng stood while Gao was made to kneel in the ward chief’s office. It was a stark reminder of his position relative to the chief censor’s. Gao was a nobody.

  It didn’t bother him. It couldn’t bother him. He showed the appropriate level of humility when he needed to. Gao knew when to be invisible.

  “Why did you join the search party?” Zheng asked once again.

  “I was there for the bounty.”

  “For twenty coppers?”

  Gao kept his gaze forward as Zheng circled. “That’s a lot of money,” he replied. And it was.

  “You were nearly killed,” the censor pointed out.

  That wasn’t entirely true. Being struck with a fist a few times in the face wasn’t going to kill him, and the cuts barely scratched the surface.

  “Then you came back to jail house. That is considerable dedication. For twenty coppers.”

  “I thought the head constable might have more work for me.”

  Zheng stared at him while Gao kept his head lowered.

  “You say your name is Gao?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just Gao.”

  “Yes.”

  There were other questions. Why did he pick the lock? What did he know about the prisoner? Did the man say anything before or after his capture?

  To all those questions, Gao knew nothing.

  He was the first person to be dismissed.

  Li Chen escorted Gao out to the front of the jailhouse.

  “This is disappointing,” Li said, deep creases lining his forehead. “He was the only evidence we had.”

  And he’d been killed when the magistrate had left on his own to wander away.

  “Where were you?” Gao asked.

  “I heard the constables had captured the second suspect.”

  Gao waited.

  “It wasn’t the right man,” Li concluded.

  “Well, I hope you find him,” Gao remarked dryly. “One more thing,” he called out as Magistrate Li turned to go.

  “Yes, Mister Gao.”

  “Did you tell the censor about the jade seal? He would know if it was real, wouldn’t he?”

  “That seal was a forgery.”

  “Forgery? Wei—Lady Bai was fairly certain.”

  “It seems Lady Bai was mistaken.”

  The same story Li Chen had reported to Wei-wei, on the very same day a suspect died under his watch and another suspect slipped away. Magistrate Li had a reputation on the street for being a thorough and just administrator. Neither seemed to hold true in this case. Wei-wei had been right about the chop as well as about Magistrate Li. He couldn’t be trusted.

  The sun was setting soon, but Gao couldn’t wait. He hurried to the northeastern mansions, paying a coin for a carriage to get there quicker.

  The sky was beginning to darken by the time he arrived. Gao ignored the front gate and went around to the side entrance near the stable, where he knocked on the gate and waited. It was the young groomsman who answered.

  “You’re Zhou Dan,” Gao said.

  “Yeah, I know you too,” the servant retorted.

  “I’m here to see Lady Bai.”

  Zhou Dan looked him up and down disdainfully. Even the servants of the wealthy considered themselves above him.

  “Would you tell her Gao is here?”

  The servant didn’t respond. He kept his gaze warily fixed onto Gao as he closed the gate. A long time passed, and the sky grew darker still. A gong sounded in the distance, signaling it was time for the wards all over the city to close. Curfew.

  “Demon dogs,” Gao swore. Another night out on the streets.

  When the gate opened again, it wasn’t Wei-wei as Gao had hoped. Instead it was Zhou Dan once more. He held out a folded envelope through the entranceway, refusing to set foot outside.

  “From the lady.

  Puzzled, Gao reached for the envelope. As soon as he handed the packet over, Zhou Dan retreated inside and shut the gate.

  Gao carefully unfolded the paper to reveal a red silk bracelet, tied in an eternity knot.

  Chapter 14

  There was pounding on the front gate. Wei-wei was mortified. Gao had always been reasonable and even overly courteous. Perhaps that’s why she’d thought the best of him, ignoring the obvious fact that he was a scoundrel. Possibly a murderous scoundrel.

  The pounding came again. “I need to speak to Bai Huang,” he called from outside.

  “Who is that?” Mother asked wandering out from the inner courtyard.

  Yue-ying came out beside Mother, cradling little Hui-lan. Her sister-in-law looked to her worriedly. The whole household was stirred up now. Gao was causing a scene which wasn’t like him. He was silent and discrete. The last time she’d seen him he’d faded away like mist when she’d desperately wanted him to stay.

  Now she never wanted to see him again.

  “Don’t let him in,” she instructed Zhou Dan. “He’s a madman,” she muttered beneath her breath.

  Zhou Dan and his father, the groundskeeper moved warily toward the gate. The elder Zhou gripped his rake in hand, ready to use it if needed. How would Gao react to being attacked by a rake?

  The pounding grew louder, and Wei-wei wanted to crawl out of her skin. What could Gao possibly be thinking?

  She turned toward Mother and Yue-ying. “Go back inside,” she assured. “He’s an associate of Huang’s. Everything will be fine.”

  “Should we call for the city guards?” Mother asked.

  “Everything will be fine,” Wei-wei repeated. She mouthed the name ‘Gao’ to Yue-ying.

  Gao had taken part in rescuing Yue-ying from danger once. Another one of the many reasons Wei-wei had been misled about him. Hero and villain. But more villain, she reminded herself acidly.

  Yue-ying assisted in ushering Mother back to her private quarters. “The loud noise is scaring my baby,” she said gently.

  Wei-wei was grateful to have an ally in their household now. She turned and came face-to-face with Huang. He’d emerged from his study looking less than pleased. They’d spoken little since that morning and only in short, terse exchanges out of so-called politeness.

  “I didn’t summon him,” she insisted.

  “But we know exactly why he’s here,” Huang retorted.

  “He claims to want to speak to you.”

  Huang strode to the door. She was stricken, once again, by how much he had changed. It seemed he stood taller, commanded more respect and attention than he did in the past. This new presence had seeped into his bones. Her brother was growing into their father’s place as head of their household.

  Wei-wei followed five paces behind. As Zhou Dan and his father stepped aside, Wei-wei wondered whether she herself should be carrying some sort of weapon. But that was ridiculous. Gao wasn’t like that.

  She reminded herself that she didn’t know what Gao was like at all. Sadly, she’d been blind when it came to him.

  When Huang opened the gate, she couldn’t stop herself from peering through just to catch a glimpse. The sight of him stole her breath — he looked awful. His eye was swollen and purple. His hand was bandaged. She fought the urge to push past her brother to go to him.

  Her heart sank. Never again, she reminded herself.

  Gao searched for her over Huang’s shoulder as well, his gaze connecting with hers and holding there for several heartbeats before turning his attention back to Huang.

  “You told me to keep watch for something or someone out of place.”

  “I know you’re
not here for me, Gao.”

  “I won’t deny it.” Gao met her eyes again.

  He was taller than Huang. Perhaps not stronger, but certainly fiercer. She couldn’t believe this man had tried to kill her brother and had nearly succeeded. And yet here they were, conversing in front of their house. Gao might have momentarily captured her attention, but there was no doubt in her heart where her loyalty lay when it came to protecting her family. She would call for the city guards herself.

  “What do you have?” Huang asked.

  “You and I and your sister need to talk.”

  Her heart pounded. What could Gao want to talk about that involved her as well as her brother?

  “The drowning in Pingkang li and the assassination at the Yanxi Gate are related.”

  Huang stilled. For a long moment, the two men stood apart, each taking measure of the other.

  “You asked for my services that morning,” Gao reminded him.

  Huang pushed the gate open wider, but only a little. “Come in.”

  She stared at her brother in astonishment. Wasn’t he the one who had insisted that Gao was dangerous and unpredictable? That she shouldn’t go near him? Huang ignored her as he directed Gao to the study, artfully positioning himself to keep her at bay. The servants hovered closer, curious at what was transpiring.

  “Bring tea,” she said to their housekeeper.

  No need to dispense with proper courtesy.

  Huang and Gao disappeared into her brother’s study with the door shut firmly behind them. Fear wormed its way into her. Gao was dangerous. He’d hurt her brother before. Was he any different now?

  The housekeeper brought tea on a tray which Wei-wei promptly intercepted. She brought it to the study only to have Huang snatch it from her, and shut the door firmly once more.

  How ungracious.

  Wei-wei didn’t press her ear to the door. She and Huang had discovered in their childhood years that there was a spot beneath a window that was the best place to listen. It was closer to Father’s desk — now Huang’s desk. She went there now, seated herself on the same flat rock she’d used so many years ago, and pressed her ear to the wooden panel.

  “—Li said the seal was fake. It was a false lead.” It was Huang’s voice.

  “He’s lying.” Gao’s deeper, more gravelly voice. So, he agreed with her now.

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because I know when someone’s lying.”

  The next part was too muddled for her to make out. She pressed closer.

  “You were looking for weapons or fighting skills that were unusual for the street. For hired…” Garbled. “…mercenaries. I found them.”

  She listened breathlessly as Gao recounted an incredible tale involving subterfuge and a gang of constables and thief-catchers. A chase through the streets. As removed as she was, it was easy to forget that this had happened to him. It was as fantastic as the strange tales she liked to read about dragons and magical creatures.

  Huang’s reply was muffled again. She blew out a breath in frustration and shifted her position, desperate to find a better spot.

  “The same official came to the courtesan house the night before. Tall, gray-haired.”

  “Chief Censor Zheng?”

  The rest was a jumble of words. She was convinced Huang was doing this on purpose.

  “Murder and conspiracy aside,” Huang was saying. “There’s something more important we need to discuss.”

  The death of her. Wei-wei straightened. If she were a cat, her ears would be perked up.

  “Family is everything to me,” her brother declared.

  “Family is everything to Wei-wei as well.” Gao. Would the sound of his voice ever not do this to her insides? “I would never hurt her. I’ve done everything to protect her. You know your sister can be reckless.”

  She seethed. As if Gao wasn’t reckless. Look at what had happened to his face since she saw him last.

  “I never lied to Wei-wei about who I was. Tell her for me, if she’ll listen.”

  “She’s listening now—”

  Wei-wei jumped as Huang knocked loudly on the other side of the wall. Demon.

  Straightening, she hurried back to the entrance and attempted to compose herself.

  Her brother emerged alone from the study. She frowned at him, puzzled.

  “I asked Gao to stay.”

  Her eyes grew wide with shock. Huang called Zhou Dan over and instructed him to bring bedding and to see to their guest.

  “He stabbed you and left you for dead,” Wei-wei pointed out when it was just the two of them. “And you’re letting him sleep in our home.”

  “It’s after curfew. What would you have me do? Send him out into the cold?”

  She looked away guiltily. That was exactly what she had done last night. Sent Gao away after he’d made sure she had gotten home. She had assumed Gao knew how to take care of himself and that nothing could harm him. Seeing him today, bandaged and bruised, reminded her of how wrong she was.

  “He’s dangerous. You said so yourself,” she reminded him. “Why do you continue to associate with him after what happened?”

  Now that she had finally heeding his warning, Huang had turned completely around.

  “Some might say I have poor judgment,” he said sheepishly. “It’s hard to explain.”

  She shot him a cross look.

  “Gao didn’t exactly leave me for dead. In his mind, he was saving my life.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “You nearly bled to death in the street.”

  “It’s complicated. Gao had warned me earlier that if I didn’t pay my debts, I better not return or else someone was going to put a knife in me. I could have stayed away then, but I didn’t listen. I thought somehow I would find a way out of it.”

  “Huang,” she admonished.

  “I know. I had a lot of time to think of this, a whole year, remember? Well, the next time I came back to the dice tables, Gao took me outside before I could even start playing. I thought he was trying to be helpful, but he stuck a knife in me, just like he’d warned.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Wait.” Huang closed his eyes and sighed. “Then he shoved my hand against the wound and told me to keep it there, pressed hard to slow the bleeding. He said the city guards were coming, and then he disappeared. After that incident, once I’d recovered, well — I figured he was the only informant on the street I could be sure didn’t want me dead.”

  She could barely breathe. This was madness. Gao was mad and so was Huang. They were all mad. “I should throw him out of here myself.”

  She needed to be done with Gao. Just yesterday she’d floated on clouds. They’d kissed and she’d dreamed stubbornly wild dreams of happiness. Now just the thought of him reminded her of how foolish she was.

  “He tried to kill you,” she insisted. Huang was like that boy who picked up the snake thinking maybe it wouldn’t bite him.

  “Little Sister.” Huang rarely called her that. He took hold of her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes. “None of this is anger for me. You’re mourning over what can never be.”

  Huang had never looked at her so earnestly. He and Yue-ying had an impossible love. Maybe he would understand.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How did it feel when you thought you would lose Yue-ying forever?”

  It was too personal of a question, even for a sister to ask a brother, but he owed her a debt.

  “Everything hurt,” he admitted. “It felt like daylight would never come. That I would never be happy again.”

  She bit her lip, forcing back tears. That was how she felt, whenever she let go of her anger even for a moment. The anger was better.

  “But you were able to be happy again,” she said. “We found a way, you and I.”

  “You know it’s different for me,” he said soberly.

  Because she was a woman. A man could claim his own fate, even if it were one of scand
al or ridicule. Her fate would always be tied to a father or husband or son.

  Yue-ying was of a markedly lower class than Huang, but he’d fallen for her and wouldn’t have anyone else. Their parents had eventually accepted the marriage and now they had started their family, but the future was not without obstacles. In their world among the scholar-gentry, servants were to marry servants. There would always be a hint of scandal to Huang’s union. It could limit how high his children with Yue-ying could climb.

  Huang hadn’t cared about any of that, but Wei-wei couldn’t be so stubborn. How could she not be concerned being accepted by her family or the fate of her children? It was her brother who was the romantic between them. Despite her love of poems and stories, she had always been more pragmatic. A woman had to be.

  She looked back to the study. A lamp burned from inside.

  Gao was also pragmatic. They were the same in that way, always considering and planning. He’d told her from the start that he was unsuitable, and she’d known in her heart he was right. She had just wanted to dream for as long as possible.

  Gao woke up the next morning on a bed where he could stretch out his full height. Instead of the creaks, groans, and voices of the tenement, there was silence. A servant brought a hot bowl of congee to him and, a little later, a wash basin filled with clean water. He’d known life was different up in the mansions, but he didn’t realize how different.

  Once he’d composed himself, he opened the study door to see Wei-wei seated outside in the garden. It was striking to see her in the morning, first thing. Her skin glowing in the early sunlight. She was looking at him now, unlike yesterday, but there was no warmth in her eyes. Something had changed between them.

  As he came closer, her demeanor remained cold.

  “You were the one who attacked my brother,” she stated calmly.

  He stopped cold. At least that explained things. “It took a long time for him to tell you.”