by Jeannie Lin
The young aristocrat led him to the empty target at the far end of the lane. Bai Huang’s propensity for gambling was well-known within the Pingkang li as well as his weakness for strong drink, pretty girls and every other distraction the pleasure quarter offered.
“I have no money,” Kaifeng said when Lord Bai thrust a bow into his hands.
“Money?” Bai Huang snorted. “I have no need for your constable’s wages. We play for more hard-won trophies.”
Kaifeng stared at him.
“Penalty drinks. And honor.” Bai Huang waved to an attendant at the edge of the clearing. The servant hurried over with a wine tray which the young lord took possession of. “You are welcome to go first, Constable.”
Archery was a gentleman’s sport. Kaifeng had only received minimal training in his time with the provincial army before being relegated to the infantry.
Gamely, he squared himself against the target and brought the first arrow to the nock. “You’ve moved us far away from the other archers.”
Several of the noblemen had now started practicing for the upcoming match, but Bai Huang had selected the target on the far end. There was no answer as Kaifeng drew back, steadied his frame and released. The arrow missed all of the painted marks to embed itself into the corner of the target block.
Lord Bai made a regretful sound as he held out a cup of wine. “Valiant effort, Constable.”
“You haven’t even attempted your shot.”
“Are you saying I can’t do better than that?” Bai Huang scoffed. “All in now.”
As Kaifeng drank, Bai Huang continued to speak in a lowered tone. “Magistrate Li came to call upon me the day after you visited. He had all the same questions you did. I gave him all the same answers.”
“As would be expected.”
“What are you about, Wu? Are you scheming behind the magistrate’s back?”
Gone was the hapless flower prince. Bai Huang was fully the aristocrat, entitled, in command, expecting full obedience.
“I am looking for answers,” Kaifeng replied calmly. “Magistrate Li is fully aware of my intentions, but there are others. You may want to shoot now for appearances.”
With his grin back in place, Lord Bai retrieved the bow. His stance appeared careless as he took aim, but the arrow landed squarely in the diamond at the top left corner. The next one hit top right, also on mark.
“We should work together,” Bai proposed as he returned the bow. “You’re good at what you do. When my wife—when Yue-ying and I were trying to resolve that incident last year, you were right behind us at every step. You might have found the killer first if—”
“If you weren’t hiding information from me,” Kaifeng finished for him.
Bai Huang shrugged. “Everyone has their secrets. You, as well.”
Kaifeng had no response for that. His secrets were long buried. They meant nothing anymore.
Lord Bai had secrets, as well. Kaifeng had always suspected there was more to him than he revealed in the Pingkang li.
“Why did you take such an interest in General Deng?” Kaifeng inquired. “From what I’ve been told, he was transferred from the capital a long time ago.”
“Maybe I just want to be useful and accomplish something of importance.” A cryptic look crossed Bai’s face. One that almost looked like longing. “There’s only so much organizing one can do in the archives.”
A crowd gathered three targets away as another favored son of the empire started his practice. Deng Enlai displayed intense concentration as he set up for his shot.
Kaifeng watched as the young man positioned his first arrow. “The Emperor invited the general’s son?”
“Likely to take the place of his late father.” Bai Huang turned away in apparent disinterest as he drained his cup.
“Young Deng is only fifteen years old.”
Bai nodded. “Rumor is he’s petitioned the Emperor for control of his father’s territory. Such times are these, when warlords pass on their command to their heirs just like kings.”
“He appears skilled with his weaponry.”
The youth’s stance was poised and confident among the elder statesmen. One after another, his arrows embedded into their marks. He paid no attention to anyone else, not even when well-wishers offered praise.
“The Emperor could have summoned Deng to the capital for another purpose,” Wu surmised. “He demanded Deng’s presence along with his entire family to make a point. What better way to enforce loyalty than by holding Deng’s entire bloodline hostage?”
Bai Huang laughed and lifted his wine in a mock toast. “The Son of Heaven does not need to be so underhanded. We are all his humble servants.”
Though his tone was amused, there was a sharp note beneath it. Bai Huang, like most men, was a poor liar when under scrutiny.
“Deng Zhi was becoming powerful, too powerful for even an Emperor to control. Perhaps the Emperor had the general assassinated himself.”
Bai’s smile disappeared. He set down his wine and shoved Kaifeng away from the range. “Do you have any sense at all, Wu? Watch what you say,” he warned through his teeth.
“It’s true, then.”
“It’s nonsense.”
“The Ministry of Defense was watching Deng. Your own father suspected him of treason. Cutting off the general’s head would be easier than a public confrontation, especially considering how Deng had command of a substantial army so close to the capital.”
“Enough.” Bai broke apart from him, banishing all pretense of a friendly match. “We don’t speak ill of the dead, Constable Wu. Nor of the Emperor.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MINGYU ROSE BEFORE dawn to soak in a hot bath scented with jasmine oil. Little Hong and Old Auntie assisted in her preparations with the solemnity of ritual while the Lotus remained quiet around them.
Her hair was washed, combed and coiled high to be held in place with jeweled pins. A fine silk robe was draped around her shoulders and she stepped out onto the street to find a carriage ready and waiting for her.
Today she traveled alone. Apparently the summons had come late in the evening accompanied by a generous gift of silver. The request had been direct: she was to come to Inspector Xi Lun’s residence at the Dragon Hour.
Mingyu had known Xi Lun would ask for her again, but the hour was early to be summoned to a man’s bed. Though desire had no set schedule. She just prayed that her fears were unfounded.
The gong sounded five times just as the carriage came to a stop before a wooden gate. From the front, the house was modest in appearance. Imperial censors were supposed to be steadfast and honest men, the eyes and ears of the Emperor. Luxury might indicate they had a weakness for expensive things and were open to bribes.
Mingyu blew out a breath as she stepped down from the carriage. The only ones who needed to fear the Censorate were crooked officials. Xi Lun was just a man, she reminded herself. His rank and wealth gave him power over her, but she had power over him, as well.
Xi Lun was sitting in the courtyard, brush in hand as he bent over the writing table. In a few delicate strokes, an orchid emerged in ink.
“This flower reminds me of you,” he said, the movement of his brush never ceasing. “Elegant, mysterious, sensual.”
The tip caressed the curved petals almost luridly. A chill ran down her spine.
“The inspector’s strokes are confident, yet elegant,” she remarked, looking over the simple black outline. “There is restraint here. Simplicity.”
The inspector bit back a smile, but his eyes practically gleamed. “Flattery is part of a courtesan’s trade.”
“As is knowledge of the four arts.”
She moved closer, careful to keep the corner of the desk between them as she inspected the painting. Oddly, the
drape of the petals did seem to evoke a woman’s silhouette, both long-limbed and graceful. Something about the style seemed familiar. Disturbingly so. She tried to chase down the source of the feeling, but it receded away to the corners of her mind.
“Nothing more to say?” Xi taunted.
If he was a relentless storm, then she would bend like a reed. This was survival.
“It’s beautiful,” she said earnestly.
“I am seeking to discover the essence of the orchid. To hold it captive.”
She tried to infuse warmth into her smile. “Perhaps you try too hard.”
“I am quite determined.”
Xi set down his brush and gestured for his servants to clear away the scroll and writing implements. Mingyu seated herself opposite him as tea was set down before them. His gaze remained fixed on her the entire time.
“My duties with the Censorate don’t leave much opportunity for painting, but being back in the capital inspires me. I felt the urge to pick up my brush once more.”
“Did you paint often, Inspector?”
“I earned my way by painting when I was a candidate for the imperial exams. At the time, the very fact that I had to make my own money was looked down upon as unfavorable by the scholar-gentry.”
“I do not consider it unfavorable.”
He regarded her as if he were trying to see through her skin to her bones.
“Not that the opinion of a courtesan holds any weight,” Mingyu added as the silence continued.
Xi Lun was difficult to read. Even more difficult than Wu Kaifeng. At least she was becoming accustomed to the constable’s moods and had learned he was not as surly or humorless as she’d initially thought. Mingyu caught her face warming amid these private thoughts and looked away, affecting demureness.
It was a mistake to hold another man in her thoughts. A man could always tell when there was a rival present, whether in body or spirit.
“Your opinion matters very much to me.” He paused as if to let the declaration sink in. “And times are changing. The Emperor holds talent higher than birth.”
“Then the Son of Heaven has rightly chosen to honor your accomplishments.”
“Again, flattery.”
She flashed him a coy look. “What man doesn’t appreciate it?”
He didn’t answer, but she could see he was pleased. Tension drained from her shoulders. This cycle of banter and flirtation was a familiar one.
“How did you learn to paint?” she asked.
“My father taught me.” He sipped his tea, the rigidness of his posture relaxing only a touch. “His works were poor imitations of the masters. The paintings earned little more than the cost of ink and paper.”
“But that would hardly describe your paintings.” This part wasn’t flattery. There was obvious skill in his brushstrokes.
“Have you seen the works of the great Zhou Fang?”
“Only imitations.”
“Zhou painted court ladies, reflecting his noble upbringing. I had never seen ladies of the court playing polo or on a morning stroll with flowers in their hair. Instead, I painted scenes of the city, of the tearooms and scholars’ quarters. Occasionally, an official would purchase one and it happened often enough that I was able to keep myself clothed and fed as well as afford the fees for the entrance exams.”
“I would very much like to see your paintings one day,” she said.
“I accepted money for them so they no longer belong to me. In any case, that was all in the past.” He set his tea down and leaned back, his hands folded before him as he scrutinized her once more. A man of control through and through. “Well, you certainly have succeeded in distracting me.”
“I do apologize,” she murmured.
“I can smell your perfume.”
His blunt observation put her back in her place. Xi Lun was all but reminding Mingyu that she had come here subservient, ready to please. She dreaded the thought of engaging in an affair with him. Sex would just be another way for him to exert his dominance.
“I meant to ask you about Wu Kaifeng,” he continued.
“Constable Wu?”
“I saw him speaking with you at the Emperor’s banquet the other day. Was he bothering you?”
“The constable is the essential lawman, always asking questions.”
“He’s not a lawman,” Xi interrupted. “He’s a servant and a hired thug. I can make sure he does not impinge upon you any further.”
She opened her mouth to defend Kaifeng, but immediately shut it. Xi had obviously targeted him as a threat. It would do no good to fan that fire, especially when Xi Lun held so much influence as a censor.
“I appreciate it,” she replied humbly. “I doubt the constable will trouble me any further. I’ve told him all I know about General Deng’s passing.”
At the mention of Deng, the inspector sneered. “Magistrate Li and his head constable are fools. I’m beginning to think the general’s murderer will never be caught.”
“The new magistrate and his constable have been very diligent in administering justice in the quarter.”
Even as she spoke, she admonished herself for it. A courtesan had to remain neutral. Blank, as Wu had criticized. She would often entertain an important official one day and then pour wine for his bitter enemy the next. Or even mediate between the both of them at the same banquet.
“I would expect that you, of all people, would not be so lenient.”
A sense of foreboding closed in on her. “What do you mean, Inspector?”
“I have been following the magistrate’s cases for some time now, including the travesty he made of the murder at the Hundred Songs last year. Li Yen allowed his incompetent constable to take the lead and you were forced to suffer for it.”
Mingyu bit her tongue. Xi Lun had been spying on the quarter for a long time. Not that she could exactly accuse him of spying. He was an imperial censor. His position allowed him to pry into everyone’s secrets.
“Thank the Goddess of Mercy, I was pronounced innocent of all crimes,” she replied cautiously.
“If you weren’t, I would have certainly stepped in, Lady Mingyu. But unfortunately you were still imprisoned by that good-for-nothing.”
Her heartbeat skipped. Xi hadn’t been just watching the magistrate’s office. He’d been watching her.
“I’m fortunate to have such an ally.” She bowed as a gesture of gratitude while her mind raced.
Xi Lun claimed to have noticed her before she had become established as one of the elite courtesans of the Pingkang li. He had requested a return to the capital and then watched her from a distance to plan out his approach. Women like her relied on holding men in their thrall, but it was a thin line between possessiveness and obsession.
“If Constable Wu contacts you again, do not speak to him,” the inspector instructed. “Let me know of it immediately. He holds no authority over you.”
Mingyu was sick to her stomach. “I will.”
“I am expected in the inner court today, otherwise we could converse longer. But I will see you again very soon.”
“Yes, Inspector. I look forward to it.”
“Do you truly?”
As Xi’s gaze honed in on her, Mingyu willed herself to show nothing. Her expression remained blank and unassuming. A clear, glass lake. Let him see what he wanted to see.
“I’ll wear perfume for you,” she replied, all sugar and honey. His eyes darkened.
As she reached the garden entrance, Mingyu thought she was finally free, but Xi called out to her, forcing her to turn.
The censor remained seated at his desk, hands folded. “You are aware that Madame Sun received fifty taels of silver last night.”
“Of course, Inspector.” Madame had made sure that she was well a
ware. Mingyu bowed her head humbly. “Thank you for the generous gift.”
Mingyu braced for what would come next. It was ungentlemanly to speak of money, to remind her of who truly held the power here and that she was nothing but a commodity.
“I’ve asked that you not be hired out for any more banquets or functions,” he continued smoothly as the walls of the garden closed in on her. “The infamous beauty won’t be required to perform like a lowly song girl any longer.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KAIFENG SPENT THE day in the drinking houses and tearooms in the section where Deng’s soldiers were quartered. There was little to be found about the general’s bodyguards. They had disappeared immediately after their master’s death, presumably to hunt down the one traitor among them.
At the magistrate’s approval, Kaifeng hired thief-catchers to track the men, though such mercenaries were notoriously disreputable. At one time, he had earned his living doing the very same thing. He considered seeking out the bodyguards himself, but such a task would mean leaving the capital in a chase that could take weeks or even months.
Evening came and Kaifeng retired after a busy day to seek out a meal. The worn benches and tables at his usual corner appeared as they always had, illuminated by lanterns that hung from the posts surrounding the stands. But tonight something was most certainly different. Another customer had taken his seat and not merely any customer.
Lady Mingyu was out of place in her jade silk, like a peacock among pigeons. A long wooden case lay cradled in her lap. Kaifeng would have warned anyone else to beware of thieves while carrying such finery, but no common pickpocket would dare to approach her. Not when everyone was watching this goddess who had appeared among them.
She glanced up from her bowl as he approached. The noodles appeared untouched.
“Lady Mingyu, has something happened?”
“Is there somewhere we can go, Constable?”
Mingyu appeared calm, but he knew her to remain steady under the direst of circumstances.
“There is a place, but—”
The room that temporarily served as his domicile was located nearby, but surely it would be crude to suggest such a thing.