by Jeannie Lin
“The Censorate is convinced of the evidence.”
At that moment, Huang was like father. Duty above everything.
She was close to insisting that Huang was part of the Censorate. That it was his place, at least in part, to question imperial authority. She wanted to tell her father that she wasn’t meddling in something that didn’t concern her. She was the one who had first cast suspicion on Lin Shidao. It was her fault an innocent young man had been questioned, and possibly tortured into confessing.
“There’s nothing I can do, Wei-wei,” Huang told her gently. “This is above my station.”
She was putting him in a difficult position. Even Father didn’t know her brother had been recruited into the Censorate, and that he, in some small part, had the Emperor’s ear
“Father,” she pleaded. “Even if his father plotted against Chancellor Yao, Lin Yijin could still be innocent. They’ve only suspected him for the last few days. Shouldn’t they spend more time making sure. Won’t you reach out to Chief Censor Zheng?”
She could see the question in Father’s eyes. How did she know of Lin Yijin or the Chief Imperial Censor, let alone have a care in imperial politics? She’d tell him everything, including all of her indiscretions great and small, if she could get him to understand.
“There is nothing to be done,” Father told her gravely. “The Emperor must act quickly when it comes to treason. General Lin Shidao’s son is sentenced to be executed at noon.”
Gao was still thinking of Wei-wei as he headed toward the canal. He’d slipped away like a thief. That was what the moments felt like with her, stolen time. At the beginning, he’d accepted that. He didn’t know if he could accept it now. Not after what had happened between them.
The drums signaling the opening of the ward gates hadn’t sounded even though the sun had risen. The wards were still locked down. As he emerged onto the main street, it appeared everyone was gathering at the center of the ward. There was to be an imperial proclamation.
Gao moved in the opposite direction. He had other business to tend to.
He’d been forced to leave Fu Lin lying by the water. Perhaps the patrols had found him when they were sweeping the streets, but Gao couldn’t be certain. The canal was in a drainage area, sparsely populated with little foot traffic. Gao needed to see that Fu Lin’s body was taken care of and that his family could be notified. Fu had always tried to be helpful, and had even tried to fight by his side when they were both outmatched.
The boy might be alive if it weren’t for him.
The lanes surrounding the warehouse area were empty as Gao approached the strip of land beside the canal. From a distance, he could see there was no body on the bank. The entire area was clear. Gao moved closer to stand over the spot where Fu Lin’s body had lain.
Yesterday, he hadn’t been able to inspect the ground beneath Fu Lin. Now he could see the dirt was clean of blood. Someone had cut Fu Lin’s throat, then taken the trouble to bring him here to the same place where Fu had found the body of the Emperor’s nephew.
Along with the cursed jade seal.
“He was moved to the ward station for examination.”
Gao swung around to discover Magistrate Li behind him.
“Sometimes the guilty are known to return to where a wrong was committed,” Li offered mildly.
“I didn’t do it.”
“The constables reported this young man was with you on the expedition to hunt down the assassins.”
“Is that why he was killed?”
Constable Ma and Fu Lin in the same night. Both involved in apprehending the machete-wielding assassin. It didn’t seem like coincidence.
“No one can say why your friend met his end.”
Li’s gaze was fixed intently on him. Gao was certain it was Li Chen who had commended him to the Emperor. No one else knew of his involvement in such detail. Was it also Li who wanted the investigation closed?
It was easy to underestimate the magistrate. He was young for such an influential post, his demeanor mild and unassuming. But Gao could see Li was the sort who watched and waited. He chose his words carefully, hoping to spur a reaction.
“He was my friend,” Gao confirmed, feeling a pang of regret.
“I’ve spent a little time learning more about you,” Li probed. “Some say you’re a dangerous man.”
He met the magistrate’s gaze head on. This man controlled the county and had a team of constables working for him. He was the one that Wei-wei’s family wanted her to marry on name alone.
“Between the two of us, who holds more power?” Gao challenged. Who was the greater threat?
There was a flicker of movement from behind the magistrate. Gao dove at Li Chen, toppling him to the ground just as two knives sliced through the air right where he’d been standing.
Gao twisted to his feet and threw an arm up just in time to take a small, thin blade in his forearm. It had been meant for his throat. He grabbed his own dagger and whipped it back in response, cursing his stupidity a moment later. He knew better than to throw his weapon away. Now all he had was this tiny throwing blade. He pulled it from his arm, clenching his teeth as pain radiated from the wound.
The assailant broke into a run and disappeared among the warehouses. Gao moved to give chase.
“Leave him!” Li shouted.
Gao ignored him. His arm was throbbing now that his body had finally figured out he’d been injured.
He was pretty certain his dagger had hit its target. There were no more throwing knives flying at him and their assailant was retreating down the alley.
From behind him, Gao could hear the flap of Li’s footsteps, trying to chase them down in his silk shoes. Then the sound was overtaken by a heavier thud of boots. Two constables appeared at the end of the alley to cut off the assailant’s escape. More men surged into the alleyway from behind Gao. The magistrate hadn’t come alone after all.
As his men closed in on the assailant, Magistrate Li came up alongside Gao and started to say something.
“He has my dagger,” Gao muttered, the realization just coming to him.
Gao rushed forward as the constables tried to subdue the man. At the sight of Gao, the man freed the dagger from his midsection and attempted to plunge it into his own throat. Gao grabbed his wrist to wrestle it away.
By that time, the assailant had weakened from the loss of blood. The constables were able to tackle him to the ground and clamp shackles around his wrists.
“If you want to interrogate him, you better do it quickly,” Gao remarked, watching as the captive crumbled to the ground. His stomach wound was bleeding out quickly.
Heaven and Earth. Whoever these killers were, they were dedicated. Determined to die rather than reveal any information.
To his credit, the magistrate acted quickly. He moved to the injured man’s side. “We have to stop the bleeding.”
“Press hard against the wound.” This part he knew, but that was the limit of Gao’s medical knowledge.
“Wu Kaifeng,” Li Chen said.
Gao thought he had misheard.
“Wu Kaifeng has knowledge of medicine. His tea house is nearby.”
Gao, of course, knew exactly where Wu’s tea house was located.
Chapter 22
One moment, her father was telling her that Lin Yijin was to be executed at noon. In the next moment, the earth split open beneath Wei-wei’s feet.
The earth didn’t truly split, but the door was kicked open and in came a group of men carrying a fourth. Gao was at the head of the party, and there was blood everywhere. Blood and shouting.
Her father immediately positioned himself in front of her and Huang, his arm outstretched in a defensive position. With his other hand, he reached for his sword.
“Wu, I need you!” Li Chen came out from behind the intruders, shouting. He searched the tea house for Wu Kaifeng, his gaze settling first on Father, then Huang, then maybe her. “We need this man alive,” he said to Wu.
/> Gao and the two constables lay the injured man onto one of the tables. When he straightened, she could see he was bleeding as well. His sleeve was soaked and his hands were stained red. She started toward him only to come against the immovable wall of her father.
Wu Kaifeng faced no such impediment. He came forward and the constables backed away to give him room.
“Needle and thread,” he said to Mingyu. Then, after a closer look at the man sprawled over the table, “And opium.”
Mingyu disappeared up the stairs, looking not too pleased.
“Who is he?” Father asked as Wu pressed a fresh cloth to the wound. It was immediately soaked through with red.
Magistrate looked up from the proceedings and broke away to come to them.
“Forgive me, Lord Bai,” he began with a slight bow. “This man was involved in the death of an imperial prince.”
“And the chancellor’s assassination,” Huang added. He moved to join Li Chen. “We knew there were more than two men responsible.”
Wei-wei was still focused on Gao. He had come to attention at the mention of her father’s title. Gao reached deep into her with a mere look. It was only a moment before he averted his eyes, but she sensed the shift in her father’s attention.
Mingyu returned with the needle and thread along with a sheet of cloth to use for bandages. By that time, the color had drained from the suspect’s face. Wu lifted the blood-soaked bandage to inspect the wound before pressing it back in place. Mingyu offered him the needle, but he shook his head, refusing it.
“We need to bind the wound tight,” Kaifeng said, the dark look in his eyes indicating it would only delay the inevitable. He addressed Li Chen. “Do what you need to do quickly.”
“He won’t talk.” Gao came forward with a hand clutched over his forearm. “They’re hired killers. He did this to himself so we couldn’t question him.”
Wei-wei took hold of her father’s sleeve. “This man knows who’s responsible for Chancellor Yao’s assassination,” she pleaded. “Lin Yijin could be innocent. You have to stop the execution.”
Huang turned away from the suspect to face their father. His expression was grim. “There are others out there, Father. We will find them in time, but wrongly executing Lin Yijin now will start a war.”
Father grew quiet. Wei-wei knew he was considering all the details, but there was so much to consider and not enough time to tell him everything. The man in front of them was going to die and take his secrets with him, and an innocent man would be executed in only a few hours’ time.
When she looked back to the table, the man’s labored breathing had quieted. His eyes were half-lidded, and whatever intention was left in his body was directed at Gao. Gao returned his stare. There was something chilling about their stand-off, unrelenting even moments from death.
“Huang,” Father began, coming to a decision. “Come with me.” Then softer, to her. “Get yourself home, my girl.”
He moved with a purposeful stride past the bloodshed and confusion, and left the tea house with Huang beside him. She hoped there was still enough time to stop the execution.
With her father gone, she let out a breath and went to Gao. The injured man’s eyes had fallen shut. His breath came in slow, shallow gasps. Gao continued to watch him, only breaking away when she touched her fingertips lightly to his arm.
He turned her, his expression cold. There was blood between these two. And it wasn’t just the blood that flowed from their wounds.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
The hard steel look in his eyes faded. “It’s nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing. There was blood and death, and Gao was at the center of it, but he was looking at her as if she was the only thing that mattered. Wei-wei wasn’t afraid of Gao, she was afraid for him. He was the one who had taken the risk while she and her brother and even Li Chen remained protected behind their wealth and walls and armed guards. They called Gao dangerous, but he was the one who had drawn the danger to himself.
His gaze flicked toward the door. “That was your father?”
She nodded wordlessly.
Zhou Dan came out of the shadows to interrupt them. “Lady Bai, we should go.”
He had heard Father’s command as clearly as she had. They didn’t have time to linger any longer.
“Take care of yourself,” she said to Gao.
“I’m sorry you had to see this,” he replied quietly. His eyes remained on her until she left the tea house.
Mother met her just inside the gate when she returned home.
“We’ve been so worried! Where were you?” Her mother touched gentle fingertips to her hair, to her cheek before embracing her.
“Huang thought you would go to Mingyu’s tea house.” Yue-ying stood just behind Mother.
Mother released Wei-wei and that was when the scolding began. “A lady shouldn’t be running around to who knows where. Haven’t I taught you well? What would your father think?”
Wei-wei wasn’t upset about the lecture. She knew a lady shouldn’t be running around in all the shady corners of the city. She had been taught well, and, above all, her mother wasn’t incorrect. Mother was just saying all the things now that she’d been unable to say while she fretted and worried all night.
“Where’s your father?” Mother asked, looking behind her. “Your brother?”
“They had important matters to attend to.”
Mother nodded, accepting her answer. It was typical for her to not ask too much into what Father did outside the home.
“Did you hear that a chancellor was murdered?” Mother asked. “It’s a good thing that the Emperor has captured the killers.”
The household knew little of what was going on beyond the imperial proclamation. For them, it was a distant drama, and, now that Wei-wei was home, nothing that would affect them directly. Only Yue-ying thought to ask more into what was happening.
“Huang is somehow involved in this, isn’t he?”
Wei-wei told her how Huang and her Father were going to petition the Emperor. “They’re not in danger,” she assured.
“Are you certain?” Yue-ying searched her face for the answer and was not convinced.
Wei-wei hoped they would return soon. With news.
Exhausted, she retired to her room to change into clean clothes. She didn’t think any blood had gotten onto her, but just the memory made her want to scrub herself clean. As she put on a fresh robe, Wei-wei felt something tucked within her sleeve. She reached in and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
It was the corner of a public bulletin, but there was a squarish smudge stamped onto it. She’d ripped the paper off the wall after inadvertently imprinting the imperial seal onto it. That had started it all, finding that jade seal.
The jade seal.
She went to Huang’s study. Chancellor Yao’s papers were still there, in the neat stacks she had separated them into. She regretted her impetuousness now. She’d spoken of things she didn’t know enough about and, one thing after another, it had somehow led to Lin Shidao and his son being implicated for treason. Maybe they were guilty, but she didn’t feel it in her soul. Lin Yijin wanted to stay out of politics.
Chief Censor Zheng had warned her about such instincts, about assuming that things fit together so neatly. And Father had always warned her about speaking before thinking things through carefully.
She lay out the muddy imprint on the desk, flattening out the edges of the paper with her hands. She’d been frightened upon seeing the imprint for the first time because she knew the power the imperial chop potentially carried. With it, one could forge imperial orders.
She sorted through the papers again, busying her hands and hoping to keep her mind occupied. The execution was supposed to take place at noon and then the curfew lifted after. She wouldn’t know if her father had succeeded until after planned execution time.
Hopefully the Emperor would listen to Father. Father always urged caution. He was in the Minis
try of War, but his position was meant to prevent war. He would counsel the Emperor to take time to find the other suspects and review the evidence more carefully.
That was, unless the Emperor wanted war. She couldn’t imagine an Emperor would, but Gao had suggested it.
Wei-wei sat back, trying to lay the pieces out in front of her. The Emperor’s nephew murdered. The jade seal. The hired assassins.
She kept on coming back to the seal. There was too much activity around the seal for it to be unimportant.
An imperial prince shouldn’t have been carrying that seal. The fact that the Emperor’s nephew was killed with it on him carried a hint of conspiracy. Someone had smuggled the seal outside of the palace. Someone had planned to issue imperial orders and usurp the Emperor’s authority.
It finally came to her. There had been two investigations, one into Chancellor Yao’s assassination and one into the unidentified body in the canal. The assassins had targeted the magistrate’s investigation, not the Chancellor’s assassination. They’d murdered his head constable, and attacked Gao. Magistrate Li had been ordered by higher authorities to cover up who had been killed, and, more importantly, what he had carried on him. The imperial seal.
As soon as the imperial seal had come to light, someone had tried to end the magistrate’s investigation. Someone had silenced those witnesses. What they wanted to hide was that seal.
The imperial seal would allow someone to create an order that seemed to come from the Emperor. Huang was suspicious that the tower guards had seen nothing — but perhaps they had been ordered to see nothing. And one man had taken custody of the tower guards. The same man had also questioned Lin Yijin and his bodyguards.
Wei-wei fumbled through the desk, searching for paper and ink. The last gong she’d heard had signaled the start of the Horse Hour. There wasn’t much time left. Only enough for two lines and then a hard ride to the Imperial City.
She poured water and ground out some ink against the stone, before dipping her brush. Her message had to be brief and she had to pray it would be brought to her father and Huang in time. Huang would understand.