by Jeannie Lin
“To good wine.”
She drank when he did, but apparently not with enough enthusiasm.
“Why so polite, Bai? Come on.”
She finished the cup, while it seemed like the entire world watched on, waiting. The liquor burned down her throat and settled warmly in her stomach. Her brother had told her his primary talent was having a slightly higher tolerance for drink than everyone around him. He was still able to use his wits when everyone else was drunk—or at least use them slightly better than the rest of the crowd. Wei-wei wasn’t so sure she shared that talent.
“Ancient Well Tribute Baijiu,” Lin boasted. He poured more for both of them, thwarting the courtesan from her task. She stepped back quietly. “This comes from a famous well in Anhui province, do you know? Originally sent as a tribute to the Han Emperor. Now, hundreds of years later, the distillers keep up the tradition. Expensive. Drink up.”
She steeled herself before downing it. The second cup went down easier and seemed to burn hotter. Her fingers and toes were pleasantly warm.
“If you’re going to be the Emperor’s prisoner, might as well drink the Emperor’s wine,” Lin said gleefully, pouring again. Wei-wei wondered how many cups that flask could hold.
“Are those your father’s men?” she asked, nodding toward the guards.
Lin snorted. “Those are the Emperor’s men. Have to keep watch on the hostage. It’s not so bad. I get paraded around at gatherings like this to show that the warlords are under control.”
He beckoned for the courtesan to bring more wine while the cup was still raised to his lips. Then he good-naturedly nudged Wei-wei’s cup forward with a knuckle. She was falling behind.
“Your bodyguard is scowling at me,” Lin remarked, looking over her shoulder.
“That’s how he always looks—” Heavens, it took effort to control her pitch. Huang was definitely more suited to this sort of discovery. “Your guards don’t look so pleasant either.”
The general’s son grinned at that. “Then I’ve accomplished a goal.”
She tried to put herself where he was, which was difficult, in part, because she was a woman. But not so difficult in others. He was a third son. Cast away as expendable sacrifice by his powerful father, a man who must deal in strategies of wins and losses. Did the general consider Lin Yijin an acceptable loss? She wasn’t so different, the middle daughter between precious sons, but her father would never offer up as hostage.
“To forgotten heirs,” she toasted.
Lin nodded emphatically. “I like you more than your brother, Bai. You and I should be lifelong friends.”
“Happily.” Wei-wei was glad the wine had temporarily run out. “Have you seen Bai Huang?” She craned her neck to look toward the main pavilion. The moon was full and large, glowing yellow overhead.
“He’s among those old, simpering fools. Why would I go there? It’s that way in the Emperor’s court all the time. Old eunuchs whispering in one ear trying to turn me away from my father. Dusty politicians in another ear trying to ally themselves with my father. It’s so exhausting. Better to be known for this—” He picked up the empty ewer and tapped it against the table. “—and be above it all.”
Wei-wei steadied her hands against the table and steadied her eyes onto his. Lin Yijin, for all of his staggering at the pleasure house, seemed to remember every detail of his meeting with her and with Gao. Was he like Huang—able to handle his drink a little better than everyone thought?
“Tell me, friend. When we first met, you seemed to be expecting someone.”
Lin’s gaze sharpened on her. “I don’t remember…”
“You weren’t expecting an old eunuch or dusty politician, but certainly someone. You were waiting for a message. Are you still waiting?”
His look intensified on her. A slow grin spread over his handsome face. He leaned forward gamely. “Are you the one that I’m waiting for, Bai?”
A large hand suddenly clamped over Lin Yijin’s shoulder. It was one of the stern-faced guards. At first Yijin stiffened, set to rebel against the grip, but then he seemed to relent. He sank back in his chair willingly before brushing the hand away. The guards really did keep a close watch on him.
“Maybe you should go find your brother, Bai,” he said coolly. “I’m sure we’ll get a chance to talk later.”
Wei-wei fumbled for her lacquered box and stood, bowing as she took her leave. Gao came forward to place a steadying hand on her elbow. She shook him away. Lin Yijin remained seated, watching their departure.
“Until next time, friend,” he sang lightly.
Chapter 16
They didn’t get far before Wei-wei pulled him off the path and into a cluster of trees.
“He’s more intelligent than he leads everyone to believe,” she declared. “And not as innocent as I thought.”
Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. Wei-wei was smaller in stature than the general’s son and Gao wagered she’d had less experience drinking.
“And I think he’s expecting some sort of message. Maybe from his father? Those guards don’t let anyone come near.”
Gao steadied her with his hands over her shoulders. “Slowly.”
“I think he’ll talk to me if we can find some privacy. He likes me.”
Gao had certainly seen evidence of that. To him, the two of them had looked like a pair of bored rich heirs bantering and flirting.
“Can you think of some way to distract the guards?” Wei-wei asked.
“You mean like goad them into a fight while you pull Lin Yijin away into the shadows for a clandestine meeting?”
Her eyes brightened. “Do you think that would work?”
Gao stared back at her and shook his head firmly, no. The alcohol seemed to have made Wei-wei forget that the two of them were at odds.
There was the sound of footsteps up ahead. Wei-wei pressed two fingers to her lips to urge quiet. They peered through the brush to see Lin Yijin standing alone.
“He got away from them,” Wei-wei whispered. “This is our chance.”
She started forward before Gao clasped a hand around her arm to hold her back. “Wait.”
Someone else was approaching. It was one of the guards. Lin turned to say something to him.
“We don’t have much time,” the guardsman said.
Lin reached up and dragged the taller man’s face down close to his. “There’s never enough time,” Lin said huskily before pressing their mouths together.
Wei-wei stilled, her arm tensing within his grasp. For a moment, she stood transfixed by the sight of the two men. Then she backed away.
“We should go find my brother,” she said once they were far enough away not to be heard. She turned to head toward the main pavilion, but not before he saw the blush of color high on her cheeks.
Gao remained a step behind her. It seemed proper for the role he was playing as her bodyguard, but it was also pleasing to be able to watch Wei-wei. She moved quickly, with a sense of purpose. Her eyes darted about like a bird’s, always watching its surroundings in case a hawk circled overhead.
“It’s not uncommon,” he remarked after a pause. “Men with other men.”
“I know.”
“You just seem…shocked.”
“I’m not shocked. I just feel…” she struggled for the next word. “Embarrassed. On their behalf. It was a private, personal moment.”
He regretted having to have this conversation with the back of Wei-wei’s head. She was sure to be blushing fiercely by now.
“I’m also trying to figure out what this could mean,” she went on.
“Could mean for what?”
She turned around. Her cheeks were flushed, but she also looked deep in thought. “If Lin Yijin seduced his minder, then he could have the freedom to move around, go anywhere. Do anything. Without worrying about his guards reporting his activities to the Emperor.”
“Maybe the guard seduced him,” Gao suggested.
“Lin would
still exert uncommon influence over him.”
“Maybe it was mutual.”
Wei-wei frowned at him. “What does that matter?”
Gao stepped close. Closer than would be proper should anyone wander onto the path and see them. “I don’t know if it matters. But maybe you have a point. A man infatuated might do anything, unreasonable things. Forget his duties, forget promises.”
She was so close. Close enough to hold, close enough to kiss. Maybe she hated him now, but it was very easy to forget when they were like this. Able to talk about anything, be anywhere and yet make it feel as if it were only the two of them.
“You like spinsters,” Wei-wei noted. “And women disguised as men.”
He had to smile at that.
“You have odd tastes,” she said.
“Not really so odd.”
Her lips curved in the shape of a perfect bow. “Let’s go find my brother.”
They didn’t make it far.
A pathway led from the archery field up to the pavilion where most of the guests had gathered. Once again, Wei-wei took the lead while Gao followed behind.
The moment they reached the top of the hill, she veered to the right.
“It’s Chief Censor Zheng,” she said, heading to the river. “He’ll recognize me.”
“He’ll recognize me as well,” Gao pointed out.
The difference is he wouldn’t be scandalized if the censor saw him. His reputation wouldn’t be destroyed.
“Go and wait beside the lake,” he told her. “I’ll find your brother.”
He handed her the lantern and watched as she made her way down to the water. Then he changed directions to climb back up to the pavilion.
The gathering was separated into several low tables. The guests were seated on rugs and pillows on the floor. Wine was flowing freely between them and he could hear the hum of conversation. Small plates with various delicacies had been laid out before them.
Everyone was filled out and well-fed, with faces that glowed with good health and vigor. They probably dined on meat every day. Gao imagined he looked like a beggar in comparison. Not to mention, half his face was the color of a ripe plum. Despite this, no one seemed to notice him. Anyone who did notice didn’t spare him any thought.
Gao stayed on the outside edges of the gathering, where other servants had gathered to wait on their masters. Unlike the noblemen, the attendants took note of him immediately, casting a few questioning glances his way.
He searched the gathering for Huang and saw him at the other side of the pavilion, deep in conversation. Magistrate Li was nowhere to be found. He maneuvered closer until Huang glanced up and noticed him. It was only a matter of time before the young Lord Bai extracted himself to come to him.
“Wei-wei is by the lake,” Gao explained. “She managed to get some information from General Lin’s son, but I’m not certain how useful it is. How were you planning to confront the magistrate?”
Huang appeared pre-occupied. “About that…there’s been a change of plans.”
Gao’s misgivings were correct. “You didn’t mean for us to come, did you? Your sister insisted.”
“I did mean to have you here. Something just—” Huang looked over Gao’s shoulder and stopped mid-sentence. “Let me talk,” he said beneath his breath before taking a step forward to address someone immediately behind Gao. “Chief Censor.”
By the time Gao turned, Zheng was already upon them. “Are we ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Zheng gaze fixed onto Gao for a brief moment as he passed by, but he said nothing more. Huang indicated they were to follow.
“What is this about?” Gao asked as they moved toward a tent set up on the grass, just clear of the pavilion.
Again, Huang shook his head and urged silence. Gao did not like this arrangement one bit. It felt like an ambush.
He looked toward the lake, where Wei-wei was supposed to be waiting to him. Huang detected Gao’s concern. “She’ll be fine,” he assured.
They had reached the tent. A pair of guards stood at the entrance, and one of them reached out to pull aside the canvas for Zheng. The censor disappeared inside. Gao was next, but he halted.
“You’ll be fine as well,” Huang said.
He wasn’t so sure about that. Maybe Huang had been planning his vengeance all along.
“It’s safe,” Huang assured.
Shaking his head, Gao stepped past the canvas flap into the tent. Huang entered immediately behind him.
Lanterns burned inside and there was large painted screen that spanned the space. Gao expected to see the imperial censor, but the official had disappeared somewhere behind the screen. Additional guardsmen stood like statues on either side of the tent.
A shadowy figure moved behind the silk panels, and appeared to take a seat.
“The Emperor has arrived,” a voice announced.
Huang dropped to his knees. Stunned, Gao did the same beside him.
“Lower,” Huang whispered, tapping his forehead to the rug.
Gao glanced at the shadowy figure once before lowering his head to ground. He turned his head sideways to watch Huang for cues on what to do next. For right now, they were to stay right where they were.
It wasn’t the Emperor who spoke, but rather the caller.
“His Majesty has been informed that this humble subject has performed a valuable service. For this, His Majesty owes this subject a debt of gratitude. He is to be commended and rewarded.”
Gao frowned at Huang. He started to open his mouth to respond, but Huang shook his head.
The shadowy figure finally spoke. “What is the subject’s name?”
The voice that spoke wasn’t nearly as booming or commanding as Gao imagined the Son of Heaven would sound. He was just a man.
Apparently, he was supposed to answer. “I’m called Gao.”
Huang was looking at him with a panicked expression. Your Majesty, he mouthed.
“Your Majesty,” Gao added.
“The one who was killed in the river was the Emperor’s nephew. It was the subject who risked himself to catch the killer.”
The long, drawn-out silence told him he should perhaps respond.
“Much thanks…Your Majesty.”
“Do rise.”
He and Huang rose to their feet, but kept their heads bowed.
The exchange seemed unreal, as if someone were playing an elaborate joke. Common street hoods did not come into the presence of the divine ruler of the realm.
“The Emperor was told the subject’s ruse was very clever. How did the subject devise such a strategy?”
“I—this humble servant just thought—” he glanced at Huang, who wasn’t able to provide any assistance on this point. The shadowy Emperor was just going to have to bear his coarse conduct. “The guilty have a habit of revealing themselves. This humble servant just imagined the murderer, if he was still around, would be afraid or at least suspicious enough to reveal himself if he was convinced someone had seen him.”
“Unexpected, and clever indeed,” the Emperor said with a note of approval. “Casting a brick to attract jade. Do accept the Emperor’s gratitude.”
The crier announced the Emperor’s withdrawal and, once again, Huang and Gao prostrated themselves, foreheads to the floor. Eventually the guards departed as well and they were left alone. They rose to stare at one another.
“You did this?” he asked Huang.
“All I did was submit my reports. I never mentioned you.”
When they emerged from the tent, there was an attendant waiting for them holding a small wooden chest which he presented to Gao with a bow.
“The Emperor sends his gratitude.”
A hundred taels of silver? Gao didn’t even dare look.
Without pause, Bai Huang gave instructions for the silver to be taken to the carriage.
“You would let that much money out of your sight?” Gao asked once the attendant moved to obey.
&
nbsp; “He’ll see that it’s tended to.”
Gao blew out a breath in disbelief.
“You’re a man of some means now,” Huang said.
He didn’t even know what one could buy with that much silver, other than a knife in his back.
“There’s a problem.” It had been bothering him since the Emperor’s pronouncement of his success. “This matter isn’t done. The man I captured took poison. He had an accomplice who was never caught.”
“We did find the accomplice,” Huang replied.
“How—”
“He was found dead,” Huang said in a low voice. “Killed by someone else’s hand.”
“This isn’t over.”
They had uncovered a plot with deeper roots than he’d ever imagined. The two he’d chased down were dangerous, but they couldn’t have managed both assassinations by themselves. They had other accomplices.
“The Emperor considers this case closed,” Huang said soberly.
“What about Magistrate Li leaving details out of his report—”
Huang was already shaking his head. “He was ordered to do so to avoid scandal. I have word from the Chief Censor that the matter is closed.”
“You know it isn’t.”
Huang regarded him with a grave expression. “The inquiry will continue quietly, in a more private fashion.”
Private fashion? Gao had an idea what that meant. The man who had been killed was an imperial prince and the Emperor had given orders to close the investigation to avoid scandal. To save face.
Did he want to see justice served? Wei-wei’s question came back to him.
Why would Gao care about justice when the ruler of the empire himself cared more about appearances?
Huang clasped his shoulder. “The inquiry into the incident at the Yanxi Gate will continue. You’ve performed a great service to the Emperor, Gao. Leave the rest to imperial authorities.”
Gao didn’t know what was worse. Becoming entangled in a murder investigation that had nothing to do with him…or being cut out before it was complete.
He may not care about so much about justice, but he wanted to know the answers. The Emperor had declared the case a triumph, but Gao felt far from it. A wound was still open, and he had just been told to ignore it and walk away.