The Hidden Moon

by Jeannie Lin

  “You could have killed him, but you didn’t. That doesn’t make you heroic.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “You’re a scoundrel and you always have been.”

  Pain flickered behind her cold mask. It hurt him to see it. He’d always known she would come to her senses, but maybe he had started to hope.

  “I should go,” he offered.

  “Why didn’t you kill my brother?” She couldn’t even look at him.

  “That never was the job. You can’t collect money from a corpse.”

  “A job. Just business then.” She plucked at the floral pattern on her hanfu.

  “Just…business.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “Maybe you should go now,” she said faintly.

  To explain himself would mean telling her about the darkest parts of his life. That he was hired out to the worst of people. He did what he was told to do. There were other men, more desperate than he was, who would take him out to have his place.

  They called him brother and treated him with respect because he’d done unspeakable things. And even that respect was only temporary.

  Gao didn’t need to explain any of this to Wei-wei. She didn’t know what his life was like, but she was clever enough to figure things out. From the way she avoided his eyes, she didn’t want the details. She already knew enough and it sickened her.

  He’d lost her. Not because of her family’s disapproval or her betrothal to the wealthy, illustrious, and honorable Magistrate Li. Gao had lost her because of his own poor character. He could only hide the truth for so long.

  “Before he goes, we should talk.”

  They both looked up, startled by Bai Huang’s voice. “All of us,” he added.

  Inside the study, Huang took his seat behind the desk. He looked every bit the scholar-official, and not at all the dice-enthralled playboy Gao had come to know. Wei-wei lowered herself onto the wooden couch where Gao had slept. Gao remained standing with his back up against the wall. Something told him it was best to keep his distance.

  “I thought over what Gao told me yesterday,” Huang began. “And I requested some records from the magistrate’s office this morning. The open case record on the body in the canal.”

  He pushed a book forward. Wei-wei reached for it and leafed through the pages, her eyes scanning the columns of characters.

  “What does it say?” Gao asked.

  “Note the reported cause of death,” Huang replied.

  “Drowning,” Wei-wei read off. She looked up at him. “The victim drowned?”

  Gao met Wei-wei’s eyes, and then Huang’s. “He was struck with an arrow. At least twice.”

  Wei-wei sifted again through the pages. “It’s not mentioned.”

  “You’re certain he was shot?” Huang asked him.

  “I know the one who found the body. If Li examined it, the wounds would have been unmistakable.”

  Gao was reluctant to name Fu Lin, especially when he’d have to go against the word of someone as powerful as the magistrate. Fu Lin had pulled the body out of the water. He’d clearly described the arrow protruding from the man’s chest.

  “But Li Chen’s reputation has been faultless,” Huang remarked, troubled. “He’s known to be honest and dedicated.”

  Of course. Faultless. A perfect match for Wei-wei, except his actions told otherwise. The magistrate had a tiger’s head with a snake’s tail.

  “What is it?” Wei-wei’s question interrupted his thoughts. “You look angry all of the sudden.”

  Gao shook his head, “Just thinking.”

  “Really angry,” she insisted.

  “Li Chen had one of the killers in his custody, yet the man mysteriously dies before he can be interrogated,” Gao pointed out. He held Wei-wei’s gaze. “He can’t be trusted.”

  “If the death in the canal and Chancellor Yao’s assassination are connected, there are two things that would tie them together,” Huang surmised.

  “The arrow,” Gao finished for him. “And the jade seal.”

  Yet according to the magistrate’s case record, neither existed. It seemed obvious to Gao. Two men, both high-ranking, were killed within hours of one another, and the county magistrate was interfering with the investigation.

  “If the same men carried out the attack on the man in the canal and the assassination before the Yanxi gate, they would have needed to be able to bypass the ward gates,” Huang continued. “The Censorate is investigating all recorded entries.”

  “I fought one of the killers yesterday,” Gao explained. “He and his companion were highly skilled. Magistrate Li must have known this. He assembled a team fit to take down an entire den of bandits.”

  Wei-wei stared at the pattern of bruises on his face, and started to say something before biting back the words. Her brother continued to ponder the magistrate’s role.

  “What motive would Li Chen have for these actions? They seem out of character.”

  “Corruption,” Gao offered impatiently. “Greed?”

  It was clear Bai Huang was reluctant to accuse one of his peers even when his actions were clearly dishonest. Li Chen was being protected based on his name and reputation.

  “Maybe Li isn’t acting alone,” Wei-wei suggested. She’d been quiet through most of the exchange, absorbing the information. “The magistrate could allow the assassins to move freely across the city and also protect them from getting caught, but someone else could be responsible for planning the attacks.”

  She was always thinking. Another woman might have shrunk away from even the thought of death, but Wei-wei was relentless when it came to the righting of wrongs.

  “If only you could have been at the House of Heavenly Peaches last night, Elder Brother,” Wei-wei went on. “The chief imperial censor was there investigating General Lin Shidao’s son. It would seem that Li Chen and the general’s son are associates.”

  Huang looked surprised. “You spoke to Lin Yijin?”

  “He offered us a drink and thinks we’re the best of friends now. He doesn’t think very much of you.”

  “There was…an incident.” Huang looked downward, smoothing a hand over the front of his robe, and said no more.

  “Maybe it was both of them. General Lin Shidao and Magistrate Li Chen,” Wei-wei said.

  “The general pulling strings from afar with the magistrate supporting from within the capital.”

  Huang thought for a moment before reaching into his desk to take out an official-looking paper. “There’s a gathering at the East Park tonight to celebrate the full moon. Both Lin Yijin and Magistrate Li Chen will be in attendance.”

  “Another banquet?” Gao asked. “Captivity seems harsh for the sons of noblemen.”

  “We’re a spoiled lot,” Huang admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting. He placed the invite in front of him. “Twenty or thirty guests in attendance. Easy for one to lose themselves among them.” Huang gave the invite a few taps. “A chance to get some answers.”

  A knock came on the door. Zhou Dan stuck his head in. “Your escort is here, Lord Bai.”

  Bai Huang certainly seemed to have risen up in the world.

  His hand lingered over the folded paper for a moment longer before he rose. “I’m expected at the administrative offices.”

  “When will you be back?” Wei-wei asked, rising with him.

  “The banquet will go on until late tonight. There will be a lot of people there. Many people to attend to.”

  Huang paused as he passed Gao at the door. “Watch over her.”

  Gao glanced at Wei-wei who was watching them closely. “I’m not so sure she wants me to do that.”

  “You know why it has to be you,” Huang replied. “We’ll need all of our strengths to resolve this.”

  The room was quiet once Huang left. He and Wei-wei stood facing one another, uncertain. She broke away to look to the invitation.

  “Was it obvious to you?” she asked stiffly.

  He frowned. Obvious?
“No.”

  “My brother wants us at that gathering.”

  Gao wasn’t entirely sure that was the case.

  Wei-wei picked up the invitation. “Huang said we’d need all our strengths. He wants us there tonight. Both of us.”

  Chapter 15

  By evening Gao found himself in a carriage opposite Wei-wei as they headed to the Serpentine River Park because Wei-wei was relentless when she had a plan in mind. She was dressed in another of her brother’s discarded outfits. It was part of his flower prince persona — which Gao was certain was a persona now that he’d seen Bai Huang outside of the pleasure quarter. Gao would have to say the clothing looked more appealing on her than her brother.

  The carriage ride was oppressively silent, just as most of the day had been. He spent it in the Bai mansion where the household tiptoed around his unexpected presence. Wei-wei’s attention was focused on reading for most of the day. He’d known she was educated and literate, but watching her spend the entire day absorbed in it was a sight to see.

  “Is it bad?” she asked, looking at the bandage on his hand. It was the first thing she had said to him during the carriage ride.

  “This one was worse.” He lifted the other sleeve to reveal the dressing on his arm. He was probably showing off.

  “Your face is still swollen. And bruised now.” She stared at him with a grimace. “Can you see out of that eye?”

  “I can see you.”

  She grew quiet.

  “I don’t understand why my brother thinks you should be here,” she said after a long pause.

  He was seeing another side of Wei-wei. One that was cautious and cold. Cutting. But he also saw that even from within the walls that she’d put up, she still cared for him. It meant something.

  He still cared for her.

  “You and your brother have your own way of understanding one another. Well, he and I also have a language,” Gao tried to explain. “The reason I’m here with you is that there are killers on the loose. And Bai Huang only personally knows of one person who’s also a killer.”

  She paled at the mention of death. They might as well have it all out now.

  “I’ve done things, Wei-wei. Some of it was to survive, some of it was just in the course of life.”

  Her fingers twisted in her lap. The knuckles whitened.

  “You don’t ever have to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she replied, and he could see at least that was true. “But you almost killed my brother. And you’re saying you’ve done worse—”

  “Never for money.”

  He didn’t know if that mattered to her, but it did to him.

  “You think your magistrate hasn’t made any life and death decisions?” he asked.

  Wei-wei shut her eyes, summoning patience. “Not my magistrate,” she sighed.

  “Men send other men to death. They make decisions that leave women defenseless, children orphaned. Then there are men who have no chance to decide, for good or bad. They just have to act.”

  “Would you ever do it again?”

  “Stab your brother? No.”

  “Would you ever do that again to anybody?”

  If the money was right. If the circumstances were there. If the person particularly deserved it. Like if he was threatening. Or irritating.

  Gao had gotten to the place where he could make some decisions, but that hadn’t always been true and it might not be true forever.

  “Wei-wei, I’m not a good man.”

  “But you’ve risked your life to try to solve this case. It can’t be just for the bounty.”

  “It’s for you.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense—”

  “How else would I ever see you?”

  At least they were speaking again.

  “Don’t you want to see justice served?” Wei-wei asked him.

  “Nothing so lofty as that.”

  From where he stood, justice seemed like a luxury. He only wanted to see that those he cared for were unharmed. There weren’t many he cared for.

  He could see Wei-wei wasn’t satisfied with his answer which threw her back into silence.

  “What’s in the box?” he asked instead. She had been holding a long, expensive-looking wooden case in her lap. It was covered with dark lacquer and inlaid with mother of pearl.

  “A scroll.” She opened it partway to show him a roll of paper. “This will get us into this gathering.”

  “What’s on it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to give this very important thing to my elder brother who promised to show it to some very important person.”

  He regarded the box skeptically. “No one will question that?”

  “No one.” She was perfectly confident.

  The party was already underway when the carriage arrived. Lanterns were lit around a central pavilion and he could hear a melody playing from a pipa.

  They disembarked from the carriage and followed a path in the grass toward the pavilion. Gao noticed immediately the number of armed guards stationed at the perimeter. Surely the assassins wouldn’t be bold enough to attack here. Regardless, Gao resolved to stay on alert.

  “Is this typical?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Wei-wei said. “I’ve never been invited to something like this.”

  Her eyes were bright with the lantern light reflecting in them. The challenge of being disguised and sneaking in to where she wasn’t permitted seemed to excite her. She spoke to the functionary who came to greet them at the perimeter, apparently saying the right things and bowing at the right moment.

  To him, Wei-wei was barely passable as a male scholar. Her smaller stature made her seem younger, a youth of sixteen or seventeen. But apparently with the right demeanor and sense of entitlement was all one needed. He’d never be able to pull such a feat. They’d know he didn’t belong the moment he opened his mouth.

  Gao followed behind her into a gathering the likes of him was never meant to attend, but Wei-wei found a way inside. She was a schemer. She plotted and planned and had enough audacity for ten men. From the first moment he’d met her—when he realized she wasn’t Bai Huang’s younger brother—Gao had sensed how relentless she was. Like endless water flowing over rock. Bai Huang had a reputation for scandal, but Wei-wei would be an absolute terror if she’d been born the eldest male child in the Bai family.

  There was an archery field set up where a small group had gathered at the outskirts. Wei-wei headed immediately there.

  “Do you know how to use a bow and arrow?” she whispered over her shoulder.

  “Not at all.”

  “That’s a shame. It might be a way to fit in.”

  Guards all around, but archery permitted within the perimeter. And a story and a scroll of paper would gain entry. If one had the right manner of speaking, Gao supposed. These people truly believed they were safe among their own.

  When they reached the party, Wei-wei tugged on his sleeve. At the far end of the field there was a lone archer surrounded by a small entourage. It was their newest friend, Lin Yijin.

  “I’m going to try to speak to him.”

  She darted forward, obviously with a plan in mind. Wei-wei always had a plan. She met the world head on with her chin held high. He had to admire it, the utter lack of caution. Some might call it fearlessness.

  Gao followed a few paces behind. At their approach, Lin Yijin’s entourage came to attention. Gao recognized a few of them from the night at the pleasure house, including the man who had shoved Wei-wei apart from the general’s son when they’d gotten too close. It had thinned out to only four men who stood back watching as Lin nocked an arrow and took aim.

  Wei-wei stopped a respectful distance away, presumably not to disturb the shot. She was focused on Lin Yijin. Gao turned his attention to the entourage. Two of the men were armed and likely acted as bodyguards. There was an older gentleman and a younger one who seemed to serve as attendant.

  Li
n released the arrow and it sang neatly into the center of the target. At least he wasn’t inebriated this time. They might be spared an uncomfortable bout of poetry.

  It was the older attendant who came forward meet them. “Lord Lin Yijin is occupied at this time. Is there a message this servant can convey to him on behalf of the young master?”

  “Bai Chang-min wishes to send greetings. We met not so long ago.”

  “Bai?” Lin spoke from the archery field while still focused on the target. “Let him come forward. I can use some interesting conversation for the night.”

  His focus remained on the target. The younger attendant hurried forward to place an arrow in his waiting hand.

  Gao and Wei-wei stood back while Lin once again took aim. The long bow was nearly as tall as he was, requiring all of the young man’s strength to pull. His shoulders and back tensed with the strain as he stilled himself before letting fly. The arrow landed into the target next to the first one, close enough to splinter the wood.

  Wei-wei clapped appreciatively. “Such skill, Master Lin.”

  The rest of the attendants remained silent. Gao had to admit, in such moments she affected a young nobleman eerily well.

  Gao estimated the distance from the target to be half a li away. Perhaps it was a feat any skilled archer could manage, and Lin Yijin was, without a doubt, highly skilled.

  Lin Yijin handed his bow to the attendant and ordered wine with a flick of his wrist at the serving girl. Then he started heading toward the covered viewing pavilion. Wei-wei made a line toward him.

  “Well, Friend. I’m glad to have someone to talk to after all.” He spared a glance at Gao. “What happened to your bodyguard’s face? It wasn’t those two, was it?”

  He indicated the two armed guards who were already moving toward them.

  “No, young master Lin. It was some street incident.”

  Lin laughed as he seated himself at the stone table. “I wish these two guard dogs would wander away sometimes.”

  She glanced at the men. They remained just outside the pavilion. Gao did the same on her side.

  The wine arrived, brought by a young courtesan who poured two cups for them with an elegant tilt of her wrist. Lin Yijin waved her away impatiently before taking his cup.