The Qing Dynasty Mysteries - Books 1-3

by Amanda Roberts

  Liling seemed to seize upon the opportunity to share her love of Fanhua and the opera with someone new. She sat back down next to Lady Li and squeezed her hand. “Have you ever wanted to be a man?” she asked. “Maybe not…physically. But wished to have their freedom? To go where you want and do what you want with no barriers?”

  Lady Li chuckled. “Who hasn’t?”

  Liling nodded. “Fanhua was what we all wanted to be. A woman with the freedom of a man. But for him to…to no longer be one of us—to be a wusheng—what’s the point of that? A man playing a man. How novel,” she said sarcastically.

  “But what about Wangshu?” Lady Li asked. “Isn’t having a woman play a woman—going where women have never been allowed before—isn’t that better than a man pretending to be a woman. A man acting like he understands our struggles when in truth the world is an open door to him?”

  “Wangshu isn’t free,” Liling said. “She’s just a slave to the empress. She still must answer to a man—her troupe leader, her father, eventually her husband.”

  Lady Li wanted to argue more, but she didn’t think that would be a good way to get Liling to open up to her. So she bit her tongue and smiled.

  “I see,” Lady Li said, even though she was still confused.

  “To think my dear Fanhua died after his final role was that of a man,” Liling said sadly. “How his soul must have ached to meet his ancestors dressed like that. Wangshu stole his last performance from him. She should forever be punished for that.”

  “Do you think that one of Fanhua’s admirers could have hurt him?” Lady Li dared to ask. She was tiring of dealing with such an emotional child. Would her own daughters be this dramatic when they got older? She certainly hoped not.

  “Is that what you think?” Liling asked, her eyes wide. “That someone might have killed Fanhua?”

  “I don’t know,” Lady Li said, looking back at the thin newspaper. “The article didn’t say. But he was young and healthy, wasn’t he? What do you think happened to him?”

  “But…we love him,” Liling said. “No one would dare hurt Fanhua. We would do anything to protect him.”

  “And Wangshu?” Lady Li asked. “What about her?”

  Liling’s eyes went dark and she pinched her lips together before speaking. “I’m glad she’s gone. Maybe she is dead too.”

  Lady Li nodded and then stood to leave. “Again, I am so sorry for your loss.” She left Liling’s room without any other pleasantries and didn’t bother excusing herself to Liling’s mother. She had no plans on seeing these people ever again anyway.

  As she rode back home, she wasn’t sure she learned anything new that would help the case, but more than ever, she doubted any of Fanhua’s admirers would have done anything to cause him harm. But they seemed to hate Wangshu with as much passion as they loved Fanhua. If love was a motivator to commit murder, hate certainly was as well. Could someone have been so blinded by their hate of Wangshu that Fanhua simply got in the way of someone trying to take her out? Lady Li supposed it was possible, if not terribly realistic.

  She hated the idea of not having anything to offer Inspector Gong with relation to the case when she saw him again. Even though she shouldn’t be trying to get his attention, she already missed feeling useful to him. There had to be something she could do to help.

  She ordered her chair-bearers to take her to the theater. Perhaps she would find a clue there that he had overlooked.

  17

  Inspector Gong doubted it was a coincidence that Hungjian was going to be taking Fanhua’s place in the troupe, so he went back to the Green Willow Theater to speak with him some more.

  When he walked into the theater, he saw a man comforting two crying women. He didn’t recognize the man, so he skirted around them as he headed backstage.

  “But what if something happens to you?” he heard one of the women ask.

  “I can’t live without you,” the other one said.

  They must have learned about Fanhua’s death. He wasn’t surprised. Someone from the audience could have realized what happened. Fanhua also now hadn’t been seen for days. There were also many people who worked at the White Lotus Theater who could have let the news slip. The news of the boy’s death undoubtedly had spread through the opera community like wildfire once it was out.

  Inspector Gong tried to slip past the actor and his admirers when he heard a familiar voice.

  “Don’t worry, my pets,” the man said. “No one could dare hurt me. They’d have to find me first.” The girls giggled.

  Inspector Gong turned back and realized that the man was Hungjian, but his face looked completely different even though he wasn’t wearing a mask.

  “Hungjian,” the inspector said. “We need to talk.”

  The women huddled more closely to Hungjian.

  “Now?” Hungjian asked. “Can’t you see I’m a little busy.”

  “Now,” the inspector said, motioning backstage.

  Hungjian sighed. “Forgive me, my dears,” he said. “But I cannot keep the inspector waiting.”

  “Inspector?” one of the girls asked in between hiccups. “Are you going to find out who killed Fanhua?”

  “I am sure I will,” the inspector said.

  “It was probably that dreadful woman,” the other girl said without having to say Wangshu’s name.

  The inspector rolled his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

  “Who else could it be?” the first girl asked, not really wanting an answer. “A woman with no morals, displaying herself like that in front of men. There is no telling how far her depravity goes.”

  “Do your mothers know you are out in public?” the inspector asked.

  The girls’ mouths gaped in shock, but they knew they didn’t have a retort. It was rather cheeky for women who snuck out of their homes to meet an actor would criticize another woman for acting improperly.

  “Head home, girls,” Hungjian said. “I’ll see you for the performance tonight.”

  The girls nodded as their eyes welled up again, but they turned away to exit the theater.

  Inspector Gong examined Hungjian’s face as they walked back to Hungjian’s dressing room, trying to figure out why he looked so different. His cheekbones were more pronounced and his nose appeared longer. His eyebrows were more arched and his lips looked thinner. He finally realized that Hungjian had used a bit of makeup to adjust his features.

  Hungjian noticed the inspector staring at him and gave a wink. “See something you like?”

  “I’m just wondering which face is the real Hungjian,” the inspector said as they entered the dressing room.

  Hungjian sat at his dressing table and checked his appearance. He chuckled. “Oh, many people have tried to find the answer to that. But I am afraid they are still looking.”

  “You don’t want to play games with me, Hungjian,” the inspector said. “If I tell the Ministry of Justice you killed Fanhua, they will believe me.”

  Hungjian froze, his perfectly painted lips pursed tightly. He gave a hard look at the inspector. “You would point the finger at an innocent man?”

  “I don’t know if you are innocent,” the inspector said as he glanced around the room at the various costumes and masks. “But I don’t think you’ve been honest with me, so you must be hiding something.”

  “We all have secrets, inspector,” Hungjian said. “Even you. That doesn’t mean I would kill my…my friend.”

  “Even to get his spot in his opera troupe,” the inspector asked. “For a chance to gain his admirers for yourself?”

  “That’s…” Hungjian started to yell, jumping up from the table, but then he paused to collect himself. “That’s just business. What happened to Fanhua is a tragedy, but…what can I do about it? Changpu needs a new wusheng and it’s a good opportunity for me. Should I just not take the role?”

  For the opportunity to be pure business, Hungjian sure took the implications personally, the inspector thought.

  “I can�
�t tell you what to do,” the inspector said, “only what I observe.”

  “And what are you observing right now?” Hungjian asked, crossing his arms, as though daring the inspector to make some sort of formal accusation.

  Inspector Gong let out a long exhale, as though the accusation of murder meant nothing to him as he continued to look around the room. Finally, his eyes fell on a familiar bit of cloth, a cloak that appeared hastily hidden under several other costumes but the scalloped edge of which was still visible.

  The inspector walked over to the pile of costumes and pulled the cloak free. “I observe that Fanhua may have been more than just a friend to you,” he said.

  Hungjian’s face fell. Then his shoulders slumped a bit. He knew he had been caught. He stepped over and shut the door, even though the room was sweltering without any other ventilation.

  “Fine,” Hungjian said, facing the inspector. “I admit it. Fanhua…we were lovers.”

  “Why not tell me when you first told me that Fanhua was attracted to men? Inspector Gong asked. “You said it was common for theater actors to be that way.”

  “I said it was common for dan actors to be cut sleeves,” Hungjian said. “Not a face changer like me. Not for men who play more masculine roles.”

  “So it was an open secret that Fanhua was attracted to men,” the inspector said. “But a closed one for you?”

  “Something like that,” Hungjian said as he took the cloak from the inspector and ran the silk through his fingers.

  “Something like what?” the inspector insisted. “I told you, this is no time to keep hiding from me. If you want Fanhua’s killer found, I need the truth.”

  “I don’t know who killed him,” Hungjian said. “But it wasn’t me. I loved him. We loved each other. But we couldn’t live openly. We both had our admirers for different reasons. His loved him for his femininity, but they still expected him to be a man in the ways that count. Mine love me as a full man in every way. We couldn’t…” He sighed and shook his head in exasperation. “If we wanted to remain popular with the patrons, we had to fulfill our roles—on stage and off.”

  “Sounds exhausting,” Inspector Gong said.

  “You have no idea,” Hungjian said. “But a career in the theater doesn’t last long. It’s physically very demanding. And as you get older, well, the young women won’t want to waste their affection or their money on someone fat with gray hair. We hoped to earn as much money as possible over the years and one day retire somewhere private.”

  Inspector Gong had some idea of what it was like to love someone secretly while having no hope of being together, but he kept his face expressionless.

  “You said that the women expected Fanhua to be a man ‘in the ways that count.’ What did you mean exactly?” Inspector Gong asked. “Was he having affairs with some of his admirers? How did that make you feel?”

  Hungjian looked away as though ashamed. “We both would spend time outside the theater with certain patrons…for a price.”

  “You were both prostituting yourselves?” the inspector asked.

  “You don’t have to make it sounds so dirty,” Hungjian said. “It’s an easy way to make a lot of money.”

  “Don’t you make enough money from your performances?” the inspector asked.

  “Please,” Hungjian scoffed. “Our troupe leaders pay us only a pittance. A fraction of what we bring in for the troupe as a whole.”

  “Maybe one of Fanhua’s patrons arranged his death,” the inspector said. “A jilted lover? Someone who found out he preferred men?”

  “We were very careful about keeping the truth secret,” Hungjian said.

  “I doubt that,” the inspector said. “The other members of Fanhua’s troupe knew he preferred men.”

  “Well, when you live and work so closely with other people, it can be hard to keep anything a secret for long,” Hungjian said. “But the girls know what they are paying for. Just a night. Just a performance. A fantasy.”

  “Still, I think it is an avenue worth pursuing,” Inspector Gong said. “Did Fanhua have any regular patrons? And I mean patrons who paid for sex, not just for the opera performance.”

  “There were a few,” Hungjian said. “A girl named Jingzhu was one. Baoah was another. Liling. Hualing—”

  “Any family names for these girls?” Inspector Gong interrupted. “Or where they lived?”

  “I wasn’t involved in that aspect of Fanhua’s life,” Hungjian said quickly.

  Inspector Gong understood that, if Hungjian was as in love with Fanhua as he said. Though he couldn’t help but have his doubts. It was a good story. One that made sense. Yet Hungjian lied and told stories for a living. Hungjian could just be putting on another mask. But he would take Hungjian at his word for now and see if any of his leads panned out.

  “I suppose Fanhua must have kept some sort of record of his liaisons,” Inspector Gong said. “Do you know where he would have kept the money he was saving?”

  “I do, actually,” Hungjian said. “In his dressing room, in the back west corner is a loose board. There’s a tin box under it. The money should be there.”

  “You know where it is but haven’t taken it for yourself?” the inspector asked, surprised.

  “It honestly hadn’t occurred to me until just now,” Hungjian replied with a defeated sigh.

  “I suppose you think I should give the money to you if it is still there,” Inspector Gong said.

  Hungjian scoffed. “If I say yes, I look like a money grubbing whore. If I say no, I’m a fool. What answer should I give you?”

  Inspector Gong moved to open the door. “Just tell me the truth,” the inspector said. “And when this is over, maybe I’ll deem you worthy of the money.”

  The side of Hunjian’s mouth cocked in a half-smile. “Life is cruel, isn’t it?” he said. “But I think you might know a little something about that.”

  “We all have our demons,” the inspector admitted as he showed himself out.

  He went back to the White Lotus Theater to check Fanhua’s dressing room for the money and any records of who his other lovers might have been.

  The crowd of mourners—mostly young women—outside the theater had grown exponentially. They were all wailing and hugging each other. The other actors in the troupe, Kangjun, Laquan, and Pingru, were acting as guards to the front gate to keep the women from getting inside.

  “I see Changpu finally decided to hire some security,” Inspector Gong said after forcing his way through the crowd.

  “Hire?” Kangju asked. “We were just told to keep the yowling cats out. They were trying to get backstage to his room and steal whatever they could. Bits of costumes and jewelry.”

  “They all want a piece of him, even now,” Laquan said, an air of disgust on his tongue.

  “I’ll send for my own men to come and relieve you once I’m done looking through Fanhua’s room myself,” the inspector said as he went through the gate. He hoped the women hadn’t stolen anything of importance.

  When he opened the door to Fanhua’s dressing room, he was surprised to hear someone gasp. Lady Li was already there.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m investigating a murder,” he said, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh,” she said, as though she just realized that she shouldn’t be here. “I just thought another perspective might help. That I might see something here you missed before.”

  He ran his hand over his mouth to hide a smile. In the past, she had only helped with his investigations because she didn’t have much of a choice. He needed her. But now that he hadn’t asked for her assistance, she couldn’t stand being left out. The question was whether she was here because she was invested in the case or if she just wanted to spend time with him. He hoped it was the latter but knew it was probably the former. She was truly concerned for Wangshu’s welfare after all.

  “And have you?” he asked, taking a step closer
toward her in the small room.

  “H-have I what?” she asked.

  “Found anything?” he asked, moving over toward the dressing table and wiped some of the glass shards from the smashed mirror away from some papers.

  “Oh,” she said with a gulp. “No. I haven’t been here long.”

  “I wonder what happened in here,” he said. “Who broke the mirror.”

  “One of Fanhua’s admirers, a girl named Liling,” Lady Li said, “told me that Fanhua smashed the mirror when he saw himself in the general costume. That he hated the masculine face looking back at him.”

  Inspector Gong remembered that Liling was one of the names Hungjian had mentioned as being one of Fanhua’s patrons. “Liling was backstage the night of the murder?” Inspector Gong asked. “She told you this?”

  “Yes,” Lady Li said, and then her eyes widened. “She could have switched the swords!”

  “Exactly,” Inspector Gong said, moving toward the door to go question the girl himself. “Where does she live?”

  “No, wait,” Lady Li said. “She only just found out about Fanhua’s death today. I was there not long after she learned the news. She was devastated. Out of her mind with grief.”

  “She could have just been pretending,” Inspector Gong said. “Putting on a show of sorrow for you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lady Li said. “I didn’t make an appointment to call on her. And she was already railing at her mother before she knew I was there. I don’t think it was an act.”

  “I’ll take your word at it for now,” he said. “But if we find more evidence…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t like postponing questioning the girl, but if she were from a wealthy family, he would need strong evidence in order to even speak with her, much less arrest her.

  He started pulling papers out of the drawers of the dressing table. They looked like pages from scripts. “What do you make of all this?” he asked Lady Li as she went over to the costumes and started going through the pockets. “Of these young ladies being obsessed with a man who appears as a woman?”