The Hidden Moon

by Jeannie Lin

  Chapter 17

  The lake looked like black glass in the night, with the moon reflected on the surface. The surface was completely still, reflecting the gleaming white disk of the full moon. Like a perfectly round pearl. Suddenly the mirror broke into a series of ripples. Someone had tossed a stone into the water.

  That was Wei-wei’s first sign that someone else was beside the lake. She searched along the bank until she could discern a lone silhouette. Whoever it was stood by the water in long flowing robes, cloaked in darkness.

  She started to back away to avoid discovery, but it was too late. The surface of the lake had settled enough for the figure to see the reflection of Wei-wei’s lantern in it.

  “Are you enjoying the full moon, young master?” came a feminine voice. The tone was soft, but there was a backbone of culture and confidence behind it.

  Exhaling slowly, Wei-wei came closer. The light of the lantern revealed a finely shaped face with pale skin that glowed like porcelain. It was the courtesan Song Yi from the House of Heavenly Peaches. Magistrate Li had come to see her the night Wei-wei had tried to spy on him.

  “The night is not as enjoyable when one is alone,” Wei-wei replied.

  “Just because there are so many people around—” she waved an elegant hand in the direction of the pavilion. “—doesn’t mean one isn’t alone.”

  Song Yi sounded melancholy. She must have been hired tonight for entertainment, but she was far from fulfilling her duties while hiding out down here.

  “Does the young master have a name? Or does he wish to remain mysterious?” Song Yi asked gently.

  “Bai Chang-min,” Wei-wei replied, thankful for the darkness.

  “From the illustrious Bai family,” she murmured.

  At first Wei-wei thought Song Yi was just trying to sound impressed to be flattering, but then Song Yi said, “You have a sister.”

  “Usually people ask about my eldest brother,” Wei-wei replied, in a bit of shock.

  “Lord Bai Huang is quite distinguished as well, but your sister is said to be a great talent.”

  Huang had built a reputation for himself in the Pingkang li, especially the pleasure quarter where the House of Heavenly Peaches stood. She didn’t think anyone could possibly know anything about her.

  “I hear she is very well-read and educated.”

  She realized then how Song Yi knew about her. This was the courtesan Li Chen was besotted with. He’d spoken to Song Yi night after night. She could guess what had happened. Li Chen had informed the courtesan about his impending betrothal, mentioning her name.

  And now Song Yi was mourning silently by the lake, presenting a lonely picture.

  How much had Magistrate Li confided to her? Was it possible Li Chen had revealed some details of the case?

  “We have a mutual acquaintance,” Wei-wei ventured.

  Song Yi raised her perfectly-shaped eyebrows in question.

  “Magistrate Li Chen is a friend of our family. He speaks well of you.”

  The courtesan frowned. “That is a surprise to hear.”

  Wei-wei wished she weren’t in disguise at the moment. Perhaps it would have been easier to get Song Yi to speak to her woman-to-woman. Instead the courtesan was wary, taking great care with her words.

  “Being a magistrate must be a great burden on one’s shoulders,” Wei-wei said. “Just the other day he spoke of a very difficult case. It involved the death of a wealthy nobleman. Such a tragedy.”

  Song Yi’s face was a mask. “The magistrate doesn’t speak of such important matters to one like myself.”

  She was doing a poor job of getting information. She hadn’t yet gained Song Yi’s trust, and a gossipy courtesan willing to spill secrets left and right would lose patronage rather quickly. Wei-wei considered switching topics, maybe reciting a poem about the moon bringing forth thoughts of separated hearts. That was something a young scholar trying to impress a talented courtesan might attempt.

  Unfortunately, there was no chance. Another lantern had shown up, also reflected in the water.

  “Please excuse me, young Lord Bai. I’ve neglected my duties for the night,” Song Yi said after looking over Wei-wei’s shoulder.

  The courtesan glided past her. As Wei-wei turned, she saw Song Yi pass by the newcomer while making a concerted effort not to make eye contact.

  With Magistrate Li Chen.

  Li was momentarily distracted by Song Yi’s departure, but once she was gone, his focus returned to Wei-wei. He took one look at her before his eyes grew wide. She stared back at him, caught.

  Her disguise might fool someone who had never met her before, who would assume that she was younger than her age based on the slightness of her build. They might sense that something seemed not quite right, but would be too polite to bring it up.

  To someone who knew her face, Wei-wei always suspected the disguise would not be convincing at all. And she was right.

  “Lady Bai,” he stated.

  “Magistrate Li.” She sounded a lot calmer than she would have thought.

  He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should talk somewhere more private.”

  They found a bench surrounded by a cluster of trees a short distance away from the gathering, though they both remained standing. A lantern hung from the branches.

  “So…uh. Do you do this often?” Li Chen began.

  She had a picture of how he must conduct interrogations in the yamen, and it wasn’t like this.

  “Only once in a while,” she replied.

  “Oh.”

  Wei-wei was disappointed he didn’t sound outraged or scandalized or even disturbed. What sort of family would allow their daughter to run about in such a way? But he didn’t say anything like that and she doubted he would. Li Chen folded his hands together, and bent his head down with a thoughtful expression.

  “Do you think this practice is likely to continue? What I mean is, after?”

  If there were anyone who liked to speak in pauses. After she were married, perhaps even to him is what Li was saying. It was a lot for a pause to say.

  “It’s not something that I plan for so far ahead,” she replied awkwardly.

  “It certainly must require some planning.”

  “Well, yes. There’s indeed some planning involved.” This was not the conversation she expected to have at all. “You don’t find this to be at all…outlandish?”

  “Not really.” Li Chen smiled slightly. “In a way, it makes sense for you. Like the legend of Liang and Zhu.”

  She blinked at him. The magistrate had named her favorite story, the tale of tragic love between two scholars, one of them a woman who had disguised herself as a man to be allowed to study.

  Li looked nervous standing across the bench from her. In this light, all her plots revolving around how they would confront him about his sinister plots faded away. She could see why her brother would think Li Chen was a suitable match for her. He was a man of learning and books and poems. Most importantly, he wasn’t frightened away by her misbehavior as much as she wanted him to be.

  “I understand we don’t know each other well,” he said. “But perhaps we know each other better than most before becoming betrothed. You are of an age to know your mind. And I have also had time to give the matter of marriage much thought.”

  Meaning she wasn’t a bride at the tender age of fourteen or fifteen. She was a spinster. Maybe he didn’t appreciate spinsters like Gao did, but Li Chen didn’t seem to mind her being one either.

  With a sigh, Wei-wei sat down at one end of the bench. A wave of sadness struck her, like a child whose game had come to an end. It had been exhilarating to play, but she had just been prolonging the inevitable.

  “Please sit,” she said. He did, taking the opposite end of the bench. They were as far away from each other as they could possibly be. “You’re going to ask my parents to marry me.”

  “Well, my mother will make the official proposal—”

  “I know how the proces
s works,” she said, agitated. A spinster and a shrew and he still wasn’t turned away. “Is there someone else you care for?” she asked in a gentler tone. “Someone who evokes passion in you?”

  Li Chen swallowed. “You’re…uh…very direct.”

  “Not usually.” Finally, she turned to look at him. “Just tonight.”

  “There is someone,” he admitted. “But matters of the heart are fleeting. One must be practical.”

  “One must be practical,” Wei-wei echoed.

  Just as Li Chen was likely thinking of someone at that moment, she thought of Gao. He was exciting to her. He was like an epic tale of the impossible. A story of dragons and tragic lovers and faraway lands. But he was an outlaw and unsuitable. She and Li Chen would raise children who would become distinguished scholars and officials. It was a journey of generations, of the lives of her ancestors before her leading up to the present. Not a singular journey she was meant to make on her own.

  “I don’t think I would be a jealous sort of wife,” Wei-wei said. “Men are known to have companions.”

  She didn’t love Li Chen, and he didn’t love her. Why would she begrudge him his happiness?

  “I think this is getting rather personal. We don’t have to plan this all out tonight, Lady Bai.”

  She nodded. He was a gentleman, wasn’t he? Studious, cultured, and polite.

  But not completely honest. His demeanor was so amiable, she’d almost forgotten.

  Wei-wei turned to him, so quickly that he was taken off guard. “If I’m to be your wife, there’s something I need to know. You lied about the man found in the canal. Why?”

  He straightened. She could sense him putting on a layer of armor, but they had come to an understanding that night. On a personal level. That had to mean something.

  “I was asked to hide the truth,” he confessed. “To protect the Emperor. That is all I can say.”

  “You omitted the seal on the report and lied about the manner of death—”

  Li sprang over to her, taking hold of her wrist. Startled, she tried to pull away.

  “Quiet,” he whispered, in alarm. He lifted a hand to her mouth, not quite touching her lips. “I never mentioned your name, but you’ve been seen coming to my office. Don’t say anything. Please trust me on this.”

  She was in shock. He still held onto her wrist. The magistrate had ever done anything so forward.

  “Who told you to lie on the report?” she demanded.

  His eyes had a troubled look in them. Emotion warred beneath the surface.

  “Lady Bai.”

  A steely voice sliced through the silence. Wei-wei looked up to see Gao standing over them. His gaze fixed onto Li Chen.

  It was the first time she saw a glimpse of what her brother had talked about. What Mingyu had warned her away from. Gao didn’t have to say or do anything. Magistrate Li kept his eyes on him as he released her arm, moving slowly as one would do when facing an unpredictable and wild animal.

  “We should go,” Gao said.

  She rose slowly, her heart pounding, and left the grounds with him.

  Chapter 18

  “I had just asked him about the report,” Wei-wei explained once they were in the carriage.

  Gao swallowed, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste in his mouth. “So, that was what you were talking about.”

  The carriage had left the guarded perimeter of the park and there was no one to hear their conversation but Zhou Dan.

  “The magistrate confessed that he was instructed to hide the truth,” she said.

  He cared little about that at the moment. The image of Wei-wei and Li Chen, hidden away together among the trees, had wormed its way into his head. No matter what he did, he couldn’t let go of it.

  “He was afraid,” she went on.

  “I didn’t threaten him.” Hardly. Even though Li Chen had his hands on her.

  Wei-wei frowned, searching his face. “I don’t mean he was afraid of you,” she said, finally understanding. “He didn’t want me speaking of the jade seal or any details of the case. I tried to find out who instructed him to lie. It had to be someone higher than him in rank.”

  “I could have told you. It was the Emperor.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “The man who was killed was the Emperor’s nephew. Magistrate Li only did what he was told. Your brother informed me this matter will be taken up by imperial authorities from now on.”

  “That was what Li said as well,” Wei-wei murmured.

  He could see the questions in her eyes, but they weren’t the same questions he had. She and Li Chen had looked too familiar sitting beside one another, sharing private thoughts. It was like a knife twisting inside him.

  “There’s nothing more for us to do here. I’m done with this.”

  Wei-wei was taken aback. “Do you really feel the investigation is over, Gao? There are so many unanswered questions.”

  “There will always be unanswered questions,” he spat, his tone harsher than he intended. “There are many murders in the city that go unpunished. You have to realize that this crime may never be over. It may never be resolved — especially if certain people don’t want it to be.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What use is it for me to chase assassins through the streets or for you to scour records for evidence? There are men with influence and power, deciding what is a crime and what isn’t. What is true and what isn’t.”

  “Truth is truth,” Wei-wei argued. “If there are men abusing power, then they need to be stopped. There’s an entire branch of the imperial government dedicated to fighting corruption.”

  He did spit this time — at least over the side of the carriage. He slumped back in the seat in frustration, glaring. Wei-wei regarded him with an appalled look on her face.

  “What happened tonight?” she demanded.

  Zhou Dan glanced over his shoulder briefly, before snapping his attention back to the road. The things that young man must have seen and heard.

  What had happened that night? He’d been brought before the Emperor and commended, rewarded even. He had more money in his possession than he had ever dreamed. The chest of silver rested on the floor of the carriage. Gao shoved it beneath the seat with his foot.

  “I was reminded of my place,” he retorted. “By the most powerful men in the empire.”

  There was the stench of double-dealing about the entire evening. Someone was in a rush to declare the case closed and done. Gao wasn’t one to care about what made an honest living versus a dishonest one, as long as it meant living, but here he was obviously being manipulated.

  It made all the Emperor’s praise ring hollow, and the rich reward look like nothing more than a bribe.

  Gao woke up early that morning to bury a hundred taels of silver in the corner of the garden in the Bai mansion. He couldn’t imagine there was any better place to put it. The place had walls as thick as the magistrate’s yamen and they were rich enough to have no interest in his silver. Bai Huang had tossed the chest around at a whim as if it were nothing.

  In the midst of his task, on his knees with his hands in the dirt, Gao had realized the absurdity, the complete absurdity of his predicament. Wei-wei was sleeping peacefully in the next courtyard. Clever, well-fed, well-educated, beautiful Wei-wei who he burned for, and here he was, digging up her garden like some rodent. He smoothed the dirt back over the silver, and covered the patch with a rock.

  Then he left.

  If he’d been able to write a note, Gao might have left one. As it was, he’d have to explain when he saw them next. There was an hour until the ward gates opened, so he walked around to pass the time. He was becoming quite familiar with the grand mansions of the neighborhood. How many taels of silver would it take to live in one of those? One tael was at least enough that he could eat well for an entire month—or at least he thought. He’d never had reason to do such calculations.

  It was a ridiculous fortune. More than
he had any sense of what to do with. It was the sort of fortune that could drive a man of no means to ruin. He’d seen it happen. Bad fortune too often followed good fortune, especially when silver fell into weak hands. Such was the case of his father, corrupt tax collector. Their family had lived comfortably for a time, before ruin found them.

  As ridiculous of a fortune as he now possessed, the Bais were wealthier than that. The ward gates finally opened near sun up, and Gao headed back to more familiar ground. It took hours on foot, but he had time. It gave him time to think.

  Back in the north lanes of Pingkang li, Gao went to the bath house. He even paid to have his clothes laundered. He hadn’t taken any of the silver with him. He was still living off the bounty he’d gotten for capturing the man with the machete.

  As Gao paid the coin to the proprietor of the bath house, he remembered he’d split half that bounty with Fu Lin. That hapless fool. If he hadn’t stumbled upon the body in the canal and the jade seal, none of this would have happened.

  The decision came to him as he soaked in the steaming water with the morning light just coming in through the slats in the walls. Gao laughed at the thought of it.

  He would split his reward with the boy. Fu Lin and his entire family were crammed into the tenements. They could make some use of the Emperor’s silver. Fu Lin could pay off his gambling debts, and be free of Headman Hui. Hopefully, he would finally learn his lesson and stay away from the gambling dens. Then again, probably not, but that wasn’t Gao’s problem to solve.

  Gao closed his eyes and leaned back in the bath, relaxing as his muscles loosened. He let his mind drift to Wei-wei, trying to picture whether he preferred her in woman’s clothes, or men’s…or maybe none at all.

  It was a fantasy only. They’d left off last night with him steeped in his nameless, faceless anger and Wei-wei coldly quiet. She still hated him for being a knife-wielding low-life, and he’d have to admit the sentiment was deserved.