The Qing Dynasty Mysteries - Books 1-3

by Amanda Roberts

  “Maybe she is stronger than that,” Inspector Gong said. “I’ll give her a reason to fight.”

  “When your heart and mind are on another woman,” Dr. Xue said, “how can you ever give Swan what she needs?”

  “I promise to do my best by her,” Inspector Gong said. “That’s all I can do.”

  Dr. Xue sighed and finished putting items into the basket. “These treatments are expensive,” he said. “And it will take a lot of my time.”

  “Don’t worry about the cost,” Inspector Gong said. “Whatever it takes. Just be discreet. We can’t risk news about Swan’s addiction getting back to my mother, or even circulating among the Manchu. It could hurt Lady Li’s reputation as well.”

  “Fine, fine,” Dr. Xue said. “I’ll be sure to wear a hat. Anything else?”

  “Have you had time to examine the body of the opera singer? Fanhua?” Inspector Gong asked.

  “Yes, yes,” Dr. Xue said. “Death was caused by a sword to the gut. Pierced the liver. Very painful but fast death.”

  “That explains why the blood darkened so quickly,” Inspector Gong said. “How much force would it take to run someone through that way? She claims the murder was an accident.”

  “If the sword was very sharp, it could have happened very quickly,” Dr. Xue said. “He was a thin boy. The bulk was in the costume, but it’s just fabric and stuffing. Very easy to pierce. Still, very difficult to accidentally kill someone when you intentionally run them through with a sword.”

  “That is my viewpoint,” Inspector Gong said. “But Prince Kung and Lady Li think the killer is not responsible for her actions. The singer said the prop sword was replaced with a real one, so she didn’t realize until it was too late that she actually had injured him.”

  Dr. Xue nodded. “Very difficult case. But until you find out who switched the sword, I do not think you will find an answer.”

  “Yes, which is why I need to go. I have some leads to follow,” the inspector said, heading for the door. “Let me know how things go with Swan.”

  The doctor only grunted as he locked the door to the shop behind him.

  After some asking around, Inspector Gong easily found where Hungjian was currently performing. The Xishun troupe had rented the Green Willow Theater not far from the White Lotus Theater where Fanhua had been killed.

  As he approached the theater, even though it was the middle of the day, he could hear loud music playing inside. At the door, there was a large man standing guard, and several women were anxiously trying to get inside. Inspector Gong elbowed his way through the crowd.

  “No one is admitted during rehearsals,” the guard growled, causing the girls to moan sadly.

  “I’m here on the prince’s business,” Inspector Gong said, not needing to even give the name of the prince before being admitted. Inspector Gong’s reputation preceded him.

  Inspector Gong had never seen Szechuan opera before, so he was surprised by how different it was from Peking opera.

  There was only one performer on stage, and he wasn’t singing. There was a large orchestra off to one side, playing loud, upbeat music. The performer wore an ornate costume of black with gold and red embroidery. He wore a long black cape with a red silk lining and held a large red fan in one hand. He had a large black hat with shimmering baubles on it. His face looked as though it was painted red, black, and white.

  With a flick of his wrist, the performer flashed the fan across his face, and his face was now green and white! Painted in a completely different pattern.

  “What the…” Inspector Gong started to ask, but before he could form a full question, the performer turned his head to the left. Then back to the right. Now his face was red! In a split second, the man was able to completely change his face.

  So, this was face changing, Inspector Gong realized with a laugh and clap of his hands. As the man moved commandingly around the stage, waving his fan or swinging his cape, he changed his face again and again before finally ending the act by revealing his real face. It was like a form a magic. Inspector Gong watched closely, trying to see how the man was able to change his face, but his movements were so quick, so seamless, he couldn’t even begin to guess how it was done.

  The man then took a bow and went to speak with the musicians on the side of the stage.

  Inspector Gong clapped his hands as he approached the stage. “That was well done,” he said as Hungjian looked at him. “I’ve never seen the like.”

  “The guard wasn’t supposed to let anyone in,” Hungjian said, hopping down off the stage and approaching the inspector. “I’m rehearsing a new act. No one was supposed to see it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Inspector Gong said. “I have no idea what I even just saw. I wouldn’t begin to know how to explain it to someone.”

  “And you are?” the man asked, crossing his arms.

  “Inspector Gong,” he said.

  Hungjian nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of you,” he said. “But as we have had no crimes committed among our troupe, I assume you have come to talk about an acquaintance of mine. Tell me, what fool has run out and gotten himself killed?”

  Inspector Gong hesitated. He hadn’t planned on announcing the murder to anyone just yet. But this man was a competitor for attention—from women and opera patrons—with Fanhua. If anyone were the main suspect in Fanhua’s murder, it would be Hungjian. His response to the news of Fanhua’s death could tell the inspector everything he needed to know about him.

  “Fanhua,” was all Inspector Gong said.

  Confusion crossed Hungjian’s face. “What?” he asked, and then smiled, letting out a strangled laugh, as though Inspector Gong was playing a cruel joke. But then the truth of the matter dawned on him and the smile fled his face. “No,” he gasped. He put his hand to his mouth as though he was going to be sick. He stumbled a bit. Then he turned his face away, and when he looked back, all emotion was gone. “That is unfortunate news,” he said as though the inspector had only told him that it might rain.

  Then the inspector realized that Hungjian was not merely an actor, but one skilled at changing his face and personality from one second to another. He wondered, which face was the real one? The one that had nearly gone to pieces a moment before, or the stoic and impassive one he was looking at now? He had no way of knowing. He began to doubt he’d be able to believe anything Hungjian had to say.

  “How did it happen?” Hungjian asked.

  Inspector Gong glanced around and noticed that the other troupe members were watching them, interested in whatever they were discussing.

  “Perhaps we can talk somewhere more private?” the inspector asked.

  “Of course,” Hungjian said, and he led the inspector backstage to his dressing room, which, like the others the inspector had seen, was crowded with costumes and props.

  “So, how do you do it?” the inspector asked, wanting to distract Hungjian and get him comfortable talking. “The face changing. It’s an impressive trick.”

  Hungjian chuckled as he took off his cape and hung it on a rack. “Do you think you are the first person to ask me that? It’s a family secret, passed down through generations.”

  Inspector Gong nodded. Of course, Hungjian wasn’t going to reveal his tricks. “I’m finding there are many secrets to the opera world,” he said. “Perhaps you will reveal to me your rivalry with Fanhua.”

  The inspector couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a hint of sadness cross Hungjian’s face again before he once again masked his feelings.

  “There was no rivalry, not really,” he said. “It was just for show. It made the admirers more enthralled if they thought there was some sort of competition going on between us. It made both of us more popular. But as I am sure you have seen, our styles are completely different. There could never be a real rivalry.”

  “It might not have been real to you,” the inspector said. “But it was very real to the women who loved him. Could one of your admirers have killed him to help you?” />
  “What?” Hungjian asked. “That’s crazy.”

  “From what I have heard, Fanhua made the girls crazy,” the inspector said. “Who knows what a woman might do if she thought Fanhua loved her.”

  “If anything, those girls would have killed Wangshu,” Hungjian said. “She made them crazy.”

  “In what way?” the inspector asked.

  “Those women are obsessed with Fanhua because he played a woman,” Hungjian explained. “When he had to play a man, their world was shattered. It was as if they were all forced to suddenly awaken from a dream.”

  “But if Fanhua had been leading a girl on,” the inspector said. “Teasing her. It would make sense for a girl to turn on him and—”

  “It wasn’t Fanhua!” Hungjian suddenly snapped.

  The inspector stopped talking and waited for Hungjian to continue.

  Hungjian hesitated, shaking his head in disgust at himself for breaking character.

  “Fanhua went along with the rivalry, but he didn’t get close to the girls,” he said. “He…he was a cut sleeve. And he was a good actor, but he couldn’t pretend to love the girls. He wanted to be one of them. He only loved men.”

  A cut sleeve referred to a story about male love from hundreds of years ago. It was a term often used to talk about men who only loved men. Having spent years in the military, Inspector Gong was no stranger to men who occasionally had relations with men. But most men who had relations with men were not cut sleeves. Most would go on to marry women and do their duty by their families by siring sons. A cut sleeve was someone who would not do this but could only sate their passions with other men.

  Inspector Gong wasn’t sure at first how to respond to this information. The idea that Fanhua was not just a cut sleeve but wanted to be a woman was something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

  “About these men he loved,” the inspector said slowly. “Would any of them have cause to hurt Fanhua?”

  Hungjian cleared his throat and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Many of his patrons would simply loose interest in him if he didn’t play the part of the dan.”

  “Why are you so sure of this?” Inspector Gong asked. “How do you know so much about Fanhua’s…private life?”

  Hungjian smiled and was back to the careless actor he so wanted to portray. “Oh, there are few secrets backstage in the opera world. And we were friends. There is little about Fanhua that I don’t know.”

  “Except who would have killed him?” Inspector Gong needled, trying to goad Hungjian into another reaction, but Hungjian held onto his role for dear life.

  “Except that,” Hungjian conceded. “A true tragedy. He was the most exquisite dan. Quite a loss to the opera world.”

  “And to you?” Inspector Gong pressed.

  “Of course,” Hungjian said innocently. “He was a dear friend, and I shall mourn him for years to come.”

  Inspector Gong inwardly groaned in annoyance. Apparently, Hungjian had completely gained control over this face he wanted to present and was not going to let go. He wasn’t going to get any more useful information out of this face changer for now.

  “If you can think of anything else that will be useful,” the inspector said, “send for me.”

  “Of course, inspector,” Hungjian said with a smile.

  The inspector left in annoyance. He couldn’t trust anything Hungjian said. The part about Fanhua being a cut sleeve was probably true, but it was a strange thing for Hungjian to be upset about if he didn’t have some sort of relationship beyond friendship with Fanhua himself. But the cold way he was able to hide his true feelings on the matter unnerved Inspector Gong.

  Which made him think of Wangshu and how he couldn’t trust anything she said either. He realized that trying to wrangle information out of such skilled actors was becoming his least favorite way to try to find a killer.

  But he had the killer. And her name was Wangshu. Lady Li and Prince Kung might want him to lay the blame on someone else, but if he couldn’t cut through the lies and find someone else, it was Wangshu’s head that would roll.

  He decided to go back to the White Lotus Theater and confront Wangshu with the true perils of her situation. One way or another, he would scare the truth out of her. If she wanted to keep her head, she needed to tell him the truth.

  Inspector Gong entered the theater and went right to Wangshu’s dressing room. He tried to open the door without even knocking, but the room was locked.

  “Wangshu!” he demanded as he shook the door handle. “Open up. We need to talk.” He looked around, wondering where the guard the prince had assigned to Wangshu had gone.

  Some of the other troupe members peeked down the hall at the inspector.

  “Does anyone have a key?” he asked. The onlookers all shook their heads. The inspector groaned and assessed the door. It looked rather flimsy. He stood back and kicked at the handle. Once, twice, and the handle gave way and the door swung open.

  Wangshu was not in the room, and many of the costumes he had seen strewn about before were also gone.

  Just as he knew would happen the moment Lady Li and the prince asked him not to take Wangshu into custody, the murderess had fled.

  11

  Lady Li sat by Swan’s side and tried to coax her into drinking some broth.

  “It tastes like sawdust,” Swan said through her dry, cracking throat.

  “That’s because you’ve been filling your mouth with so much smoke,” Lady Li replied as he held up another spoonful.

  Swan pushed the spoon away and retched into the bowl by her bed again. She leaned back on her pillow, panting.

  Lady Li placed her hand on Swan’s forehead, which was burning up. “Your future husband is sending for a doctor,” Lady Li said. “I’m sure he will be here soon.”

  “My future husband,” Swan repeated dreamily. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “It will only happen if you get well,” Lady Li said, putting the broth and spoon aside.

  “Does it hurt you?” Swan asked. “To know that I will marry Inspector Gong and not you?”

  Lady Li pressed her lips and her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure why Swan was trying to get a rise out of her, but she wouldn’t lower herself by losing her temper with a sick woman. She tucked the covers in around Swan’s frail body and took some satisfaction in knowing that Inspector Gong wouldn’t take nearly as much pleasure in Swan’s bony frame as he did in her own more shapely one.

  “It was my decision,” Lady Li said.

  Swan smirked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Lady Li sighed and shook her head. “What does it matter?” she asked.

  “How can I be happy in a new marriage knowing that it causes you pain?” Swan asked.

  A flood of guilt washed over Lady Li. Swan hadn’t asked the question to hurt her, but to alleviate her own guilt over having the chance at a new family, a new life, and leaving Lady Li behind. Lady Li was so jealous and had been acting so petty, she thought that Swan must be envious and vindictive as well.

  Lady Li sat on the bed and took Swan’s hand in her own. “Meimei,” she said, emphasizing that she saw Swan as not just her late husband’s concubine, but her own sister, “you and I have both been wronged. We should never have been widowed so young. But our similarities end there. As a first wife, I must stay as I am. I must protect my daughters. But you have another chance. You can escape this life. Don’t think about me. Escape while you can.”

  Swan started to cry and put her hand to her eyes. “The only escape for me has been in the clouds,” she said. “I cannot imagine ever being happy in this world.”

  “Yes, you can!” Lady Li insisted. “Once you are married to Inspector Gong, everything will change for you! You will be an honored first wife in a large family with many sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews. Your husband will take his pleasure with you and you will have children of your own.”

  “But what if I can’t?” Swan asked, sitting u
p. “I lost my baby. My son! If Inspector Gong knew—”

  “Shut your mouth, you idiot!” Lady Li said harshly, looking around as if Inspector Gong or his mother might suddenly manifest. “When a woman has twenty years to birth a dozen children, it is very common to lose one or two. It doesn’t mean you can’t still have many healthy children.”

  “Then why are we keeping it a secret,” Swan asked. “If Inspector Gong knew the truth, he wouldn’t marry me, would he?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Lady Li asked. “You are right. He wouldn’t. But I want you married. I want you happy. Keeping this thing a secret is the only way. If you want, after you have a healthy son, then you can tell him about the one you lost. He is a reasonable man. He will understand why you didn’t tell him. But then it won’t matter.”

  “But what if I never have a son?” Swan asked. “What if I can’t?”

  “Then he will take a concubine,” Lady Li said. “And she can birth children for you. You’ll still be a first wife, which will be a much better life than you are living now.”

  Swan leaned back again and sighed, her eyelids droopy. “I hope you are right,” she said. The conversation seemed to have drained her of whatever energy she had, and she was quickly asleep once again.

  Lady Li turned toward the door and was not at all surprised to see Eunuch Bai standing there. He lowered his head and backed away as she left the room and closed the door.

  “Do you need something?” she asked softly so as not to disturb Swan.

  He handed her a folded piece of paper with the empress’s seal on it. “You’ve been summoned.”

  Lady Li hadn’t seen the empress in several months. Not since they found out who had murdered her sister-in-law, who had been serving as one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting, though they had sent each other letters many times.