by Jeannie Lin
“Who lives there?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Where does your family think you are?” he asked next.
“The temple,” she replied.
He nodded, watching her warily. “This is the first time anyone has rung the gong.”
Li Chen roused one of his constables to join them and they boarded the magistrate’s wagon to ride to the address.
Wei-wei had stayed up half the night thinking of a solution. Venturing out to some unknown location on the day of her betrothal would be courting both danger and scandal. The only solution was to enlist her intended, the honorable Magistrate Li. She had protection against thieves who might try to snatch the silver as well as a way to avoid scandal. Li Chen couldn’t unexpectedly find out about a secret excursion if he was in on the secret.
She looked over at Li now. He had a perturbed look about him, and she wondered if he’d only gone along with her request because they were to be married. Over time, would his troubled yet tolerant look change to a long-suffering one of frustration? And then to disdain?
Wei-wei was also acutely aware that sitting beside Li Chen didn’t feel the same as being beside Gao. There was no sense of shared purpose and adventure. Li Chen tolerated her impetuousness, but he’d never question, tease or collaborate with her.
Li Chen, like her family, preferred the path of silence.
She had to stop hunting for flaws, and she had to stop searching reminders of Gao.
The directions on the paper led them to a four-story tenement house beside Jujube Alley. Li Chen took the lead with her and Zhou Dan following behind. Zhou Dan carried the silver strapped over his back.
“It’s heavy,” he remarked.
As they moved through the cramped corridors, Wei-wei passed by open doorways that revealed squalid living conditions. Entire families were packed into small spaces. Gao’s words weighed heavily on her. Her home, the one she frequently complained about being trapped in, was a palace.
Why would Gao want his silver brought here? Was it a debt he owed? Perhaps to some moneylender? She’d had an unpleasant run in with a gambling den boss once, though he’d been in a much nicer establishment than this one.
Gao’s address had designated a room at the corner. The family there was named Xi. There was no need to knock as the door was a curtain hung over the entrance. Li Chen announced himself as he stood beside it.
The family looked them over with surprise.
“A man named Gao requested that this be delivered to you,” Li Chen explained.
Zhou Dan untied the makeshift pack from his shoulders and stepped inside to lower the sack unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Gao, you say?” the woman said. “Does Mister Gao know what happened to my son?”
He wasn’t a bad son, she explained to Li. But easily influenced and he liked to gamble too much. Gao had taken him under his care. Tried to teach him.
“He hasn’t come home. They say he was killed in the street.” The woman’s lip trembled and she pressed a hand to her face, overcome. “Just days ago,” she wailed.
Wei-wei and Li stood at the door. She looked helplessly at him, then back to the woman.
“I know who this is,” Li said quietly.
It was the friend Gao had spoken of. Something had happened to this friend the last night she had been with Gao, and it had affected him.
Li Chen spoke to the woman as gently as he could, asking questions, and listening. He informed her that her son’s body had been found. That he would be returned now to his family.
The mother staggered, crumbling to the ground and let out a wail of anguish. Wei-wei bit down hard on her bottom lip as it started trembling. It was hard to be witness to such raw pain. A family’s deepest, most private moments.
The other members of the family came to comfort the mother. Li cast her a glance and a curt nod that told her they should go. He’d remained calm throughout the entire exchange. His expression was firm, but not harsh.
When they left, the family hadn’t yet opened the parcel. It wouldn’t dull the pain of losing their son, but it might help them in other ways. Gao had done this rather than take any of the silver for himself.
Her brother had once painted Gao as an opportunist and a cutthroat. She looked around at the rotted wood and rags. Gao was also poor and hungry. Maybe he was all those things, but to the people he’d committed to, he was giving of himself. He knew no boundaries.
Both Wei-wei and Li Chen remained silent throughout the ride back to the yamen. There was a place for silences.
Once they returned, Li Chen helped her from the wagon with a steady hand on her arm.
“You’re very patient,” she told him once the constables had dispersed.
Zhou Dan had gone to fetch their carriage, and she and Li had a moment alone.
“You’re a kind man,” she said. “And well-read.”
He frowned a little, confused by her sudden outspokenness, but willing to wait and gain more understanding. From how he’d interacted with the family who’d lost their son, she could see he wasn’t just a capable magistrate. Li was a decent person. In time, they would become familiar and comfortable with each other. They might even form close bonds. She’d have children who would grow up strong and healthy. Maybe they would also be clever.
But somewhere, deep-down, there would be a seed of unhappiness. It was already planted, and it contained more than just her longing for Gao. The tiny seed was her attempt to hide away so much, all her dreams, inside something so small.
She suspected there was the same seed inside of Li Chen. “You shouldn’t marry me, Magistrate Li.”
He frowned. “I shouldn’t?”
A marriage could be grown around whatever seeds they carried. Their union could be fruitful and years from now she might even be able to say that she was happy even if she wasn’t at the present, but—
“There’s someone you care for,” she said. “Someone who is in your thoughts and in your heart night and day. You should marry her, not me.”
Li Chen appeared extremely uncomfortable now. “Let us talk inside, Lady Bai.”
She went with him inside the yamen and to his offices. He brought her into the study, and closed the door. After a deep breath, he finally faced her. Wei-wei stared at all the books on the shelves and at his desk.
“Chang’an is a large county. There is always more work to be done,” he explained, perhaps grateful for something neutral to speak of.
She would live in the yamen with Li. When he was re-assigned to another county, as magistrates frequently were, she would go with him and settle in a new city. It wasn’t a bad life. Li Chen wasn’t a bad man. She wasn’t doing this for her.
Not entirely for her.
“You have a chance at happiness,” she told him.
He let out a breath, and rubbed a hand over his chin. Back to the unspeakable topics.
“She cares for you as well,” Wei-wei insisted.
His eyes clouded with emotion. “It’s not a possibility.”
“Only because I’m here.”
Everyone saw that they were well-suited for one another, and couldn’t see it any other way. Even she had thought the match was too perfect to deny. At the moment, Li’s true love might seem impossible, but he was a man with wealth and influence. Even if Wei-wei could bear her own loneliness, how was she going to put up with his disappointment for the rest of their lives? It might make for good poetry, but she imagined very long days full of regret.
“If our marriage would be so objectionable to you, I won’t push for it,” he offered, though she could see how much this troubled him.
It was Li’s mother pushing for their union. And her mother. Their families were supposed to have tea and exchange gifts just hours from now. Breaking their arrangement at this late of a stage reflected badly on both of their families. There was no way to escape this without scandal and, even worse, ill-will.
“You can claim I’m unsuit
able,” she suggested. “That I’m too spoiled and unmanageable.”
Li was horrified. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“But how can we do this so your family won’t lose face?”
“Or yours,” he insisted.
An alternative would be for her to insult her would-be mother in law, and Wei-wei didn’t think her reputation would ever recover from that. Her own parents might disown her.
“I don’t know. This is not how I usually think,” Li said.
Of course not. He was dedicated to upholding social order and mores.
“Surely we can think of something together.” She was getting a taste for it. “It’s a puzzle. Like solving one of your criminal cases.”
Li frowned at her. “It’s nothing like that,” he said sternly.
“I can do this. I’m good at this.”
Now Li looked truly troubled. And perhaps a little relieved he wouldn’t be marrying her after all? “I can’t see how it’s possible to come away from this unscathed. If one of us has to sacrifice—”
She hushed him, squeezing her eyes closed to shut out everything around her so she could think. There had to be a way.
“We have to do it at the same time.” Her eyes flicked open and she looked to Li.
“Bring everyone together?” he asked.
“No, we must do it separately. But at the same time. I must find a reason why we absolutely cannot be married, and tell my father and mother. A reason that doesn’t question your honor. And you have to do the same.”
“How can that help? Both our families will be upset then.”
“No, listen.” She grabbed at his sleeve to get his undivided attention. “I tell my Father I absolutely cannot marry you. He’ll be angry. Then, what happens when your mother tells him the same thing about you?”
Li shook his head. “He grows even angrier?”
“At that moment, my father is suddenly relieved.”
Magistrate Li fell silent. She gave him a long moment to think on it, something she’d learned from her parents.
“You are quite formidable, Lady Bai,” he said eventually.
She had so few avenues where she could exert herself. It was important to master them.
“Our families are very similar, are they not?” she went on.
“Yes. It’s one of the reasons we were presumed to be such a good match.”
She shot him a warning look before continuing. “When the possibility of scandal comes up, each of them will worry for the other party. Each will be determined to act honorably toward the other.”
“As the saying goes — In divorcing a wife, make it so she can remarry,” Li Chen quoted. “In severing a friend-ship, make it so he can make new friends.”
They were in agreement.
He blew out a breath. “If my mother ever knew we talked like this, she would never forgive me.”
It was vindicating to see that a man older and more accomplished than she still held some fear of their mothers. This was the closest Wei-wei had felt to friendship with Li Chen — the two of them plotting to dissolve their union before it ever formed.
“There isn’t much time. We both need to act within the next hour,” Wei-wei instructed.
He nodded to her, and she back at him.
Now Wei-wei had the difficult task of coming up with a story that would convince her parents.
Chapter 26
Gao was halfway through a bowl of noodles at a street stand when the shadow fell over him. He looked up to see he’d been caught.
“Magistrate Li. Although, you’re not magistrate here.”
Over the last week, Gao had relocated to the eastern part of the capital, which was considered to be a separate county with its own magistrate. Though within the same outer city walls, the eastern half was far away from Pingkang li as well as from the northeast corner. Certainly, far enough that Wei-wei couldn’t find him if the impulse struck her. And if he had the urge to see her, it would take long enough that he had time to stop himself.
He’d already tried it once so far, but had pulled himself back at the Imperial Way which divided the city in half.
“I had a feeling you hadn’t left Chang’an yet,” Li said.
“I’m dirt poor. Who wants to starve out on the road?”
“Yes, I happen to know something about your situation,” the magistrate murmured cryptically. “May I sit?”
“May I eat?” Gao indicated the half-finished noodles.
“Yes, please. Feel free. Before the food gets cold.”
Gao did just that, digging into his noodles. He usually attempted some level of manners, especially in front of someone of rank like Li Chen. Disrespect drew unwanted attention, but Gao just couldn’t muster the will at the moment. By now the man was betrothed to Wei-wei. Gao’s time to act, if there ever was a time, was that narrow space after they’d kissed for the very last time. And he hadn’t done a thing.
He slurped his noodles loudly out of spite, which was a pretty toothless gesture considering, but jealousy made men do stupid things.
Since Gao hadn’t said no to Li’s request to sit, the magistrate apparently took it to mean yes. He seated himself on the stool opposite Gao.
“I have discovered,” Li began pleasantly. “That since you use only a single name of Gao, it’s particularly difficult to track your movements.”
Gao lifted the bowl to tip broth into his mouth. What was Li Chen doing? Making polite conversation before getting to the point was something gentlemen did to gentlemen. He set the bowl down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve for good measure.
“By the way, your thief-catchers were lousy,” Gao informed him. He’d evaded one just yesterday, wondering why someone was attempting to track him down. “What is it? Some crime committed years back that you want me for?”
“Uh…No.” Li frowned, thinking more on that statement. “But you’re innocent of any wrongdoing, right?”
Gao bit back a grin. “Of course.”
“I came to make a proposal. I may have a job for you.”
“I already have a job.”
He was to guard a merchant caravan that was supposed to leave Chang’an tomorrow. It would take him out of the city, and he very much needed to leave. If he stayed, Gao knew that sometime, somehow, he would forget the consequences and find a way to see her. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. Even if Wei-wei was married to this fool. Even if she was old and gray.
“If you would consider it, I have need of a head constable,” Li offered, oblivious to Gao’s thoughts.
He stared at the magistrate. Li stared back, unblinking.
“No,” Gao replied.
“You didn’t consider it very long,” Li remarked.
“It doesn’t suit me.”
“I believe it will suit you very well.” Li made the motions of settling into his seat and folding his hands before him. Gao sensed this was how a man like Li Chen prepared for battle. “You have experience as to what functions a constable serves. You’ve tracked down and subdued dangerous criminals. You know the streets of the city.”
“I know ten streets in Pingkang.”
“You’re being too humble, Mister Gao.”
Gao scowled. He did not like being addressed by Li in that way.
“The position of magistrate is, by nature, a transient one,” Li began. Gao propped an elbow onto the table. This was going to be a lecture. Li continued, undeterred. “A magistrate is meant to be an outsider in his jurisdiction, so as to not become entangled in any local politics or loyalties. He requires the service of people who can provide insight into the community, particularly the rougher—”
“You don’t suit me,” Gao cut in.
“What?”
“I’d be working with you,” he replied more succinctly. “We are not a good match.”
“Well.” Li was taken aback. His brow furrowed. “I disagree. I’ve worked with two head constables who had two very different temperaments. Not only do I consid
er you qualified, based on the abilities you’ve demonstrated, but I’ve learned that an effective head constable is one who has, what I would characterize, as opposite qualities to my own.”
“Your second head constable was killed.”
Li exhaled slowly, taking the time to smooth out the sleeves of his robe one after the other. Gao didn’t aim to make the magistrate angry, but the fact was, being head constable was dangerous, on top of the fact that all of Gao’s previous associates would distrust him. He’d have to wear a uniform, putting a target on his back. Constable Ma had seemed disgruntled most of the time and Wu Kaifeng looked dour all of the time.
On top of that, the position was only barely respectable to those for which respect mattered. It was the lowest rung of the bureaucracy.
Why was he even considering it? Gao always considered all options. It had become key to his survival.
This option was easy to turn down. Li Chen would take Wei-wei as his wife, and she would come to live in the magistrate’s compound, the very same place where Gao would report for duty every day. Gao didn’t like the prospect of being tortured daily any more than he liked being knifed.
Magistrate Li was watching him, his gaze steady. “You’re cunning,” he said bluntly. “Quick. I need someone like you.”
Gao sighed and pressed his fingertips against his temple before replying. “Did she ask you to do this?”
Li blinked at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The magistrate had to know. “The woman you’re set to marry.” Gao stopped himself from using Wei-wei’s familiar name. “Did she ask you to offer this position to me?”
“There is no woman I’m set to marry.”
Gao straightened. He searched Li Chen’s expression.
“You and Lady Bai were to be betrothed.”
Li shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
Gao’s heart pounded as if it had just come back to life. “What happened?”
As Li considered his response, Gao suddenly regretted acting like such a pig to the man.
“Her family sent her from the capital—is there something wrong, Mister Gao?”
Gao ignored him for the moment. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to think.