by Jeannie Lin
“Disrespectful,” Mingyu agreed. “Deng Furen saw what I saw, a man of General Deng’s height and stature, wearing his robe. And she was distraught.”
His frown deepened. “Someone wanted to create the illusion that Deng Zhi was dead.”
“The assassins killed the wrong man which sent Deng into hiding,” Mingyu theorized.
“Or it may be simpler than that.” Kaifeng sifted through the observations in one of his journals. “General Deng could have staged his own murder.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NIGHT HAD BECOME day and day became night.
Kaifeng reviewed his findings. “We were searching for someone skilled with the sword who possessed a strong physique. He had to have enough training and strength as well as a fine enough weapon to remove the head in one swipe. General Deng fits that description.”
“Then who does the body belong to?”
“We switch the roles. The victim is who we assumed was the murderer. Deng’s bodyguard has been missing. It would not have been difficult for the general to order one of them to put on his clothes,” Kaifeng concluded.
“Thinking he was supposed to act as a decoy,” Mingyu finished, growing pale.
Then the general had beheaded the bodyguard himself.
He went on, “There is one person who is aware of everything that occurs in the Deng mansion, yet who claimed Deng did not summon his bodyguards the morning of his death. I need to seek out Yuan Lo.”
“The family steward?”
“I’ll find him and get the truth this time.”
“Or we can just leave those questions unanswered.” Solemnly, Mingyu rolled up his sketch of the victim. “None of this matters anymore if we leave Changan. We’ll go far away.”
“It would be madness to flee.”
“This is already madness,” she murmured, touching his arm in an innocent gesture that set his heart pounding.
Kaifeng was tempted. Of course he was tempted. Mingyu’s hair was unbound, her lips kissed free of any color. She wore nothing but the morning sun on her face and the sight of it was pure and devastating. This was the Mingyu that men longed to see beneath the silk and jewels and paint. What she truly looked like.
It was easy to reason that if he simply said yes and obliged her, then Mingyu would continue to be his the next morning and the morning after. But he had already tried to escape his past once. Sooner or later, he knew, all debts had to be paid.
“This will follow you, Mingyu. We need to resolve this now.”
She nodded, but doubt lingered in her eyes as they parted. Mingyu stayed behind in the abandoned teahouse while he left to report to the magistrate’s office. Madame Sun had not yet submitted a petition for Mingyu’s arrest. Perhaps the headmistress believed Mingyu would come to her senses and return. In any case, that bought them more time.
Mingyu had only suggested they flee together because she was desperate and needed his protection. And he was eager to give it to her. At least the part of him that was masculine and protective and wanted Mingyu enough to forget every truth he knew.
Kaifeng had been ensnared and it had nothing to do with logic or rationality or even lust. Physical desire was understandable and easily remedied. The hold that Mingyu had over him was nothing as simple as that.
He dispensed of his usual rounds to venture back to the Deng mansion. This time, he wasn’t invited, but he had no intention of entering the residence. Kaifeng found a corner across the street with a good view of the front gate and settled in to watch for Yuan Lo.
The gong sounded the Hour of the Goat. Shortly afterward, the old steward emerged and headed through the streets on foot. Kaifeng followed.
Yuan’s hair was thinning and there was a shuffle in his step that was characteristic of aching joints, a malady that came early for some. Yet he moved quickly and with purpose. Kaifeng’s height was a great advantage in this endeavor. He was able to track the steward easily even from fifty paces behind.
Yuan entered a building hidden at the very end of the alleyway. After perhaps a quarter of the hour, the steward emerged with a sack beneath his arm. Kaifeng waited until Yuan was clear of the area before approaching the door. Inside appeared to be a Taoist shrine. The altar was laid out with familiar implements: two candles still burning, a bowl of rice, an urn of incense. A ritual sword lay across it and the wall above was pasted with yellow paper talismans. Characters were inscribed onto the papers in red-and-black ink, though the writing was unintelligible.
Kaifeng made a note of the shrine location and continued on, successfully catching up to Yuan before he strayed too far. The steward darted between two shops. Behind the market area was a transport canal and Yuan disappeared over the edge. When Kaifeng reached the ditch, Yuan’s footprints remained visible in the mud below. They led into the nearby tunnel.
Climbing down the shallow embankment, Kaifeng found Yuan beneath the shadow of the tunnel, shovel in hand, digging near the base of the stone structure. He worked in the dark, with only the scant light that filtered in from above to guide him.
“Mister Yuan.”
The steward started. With a yelp, he slipped onto his knees into the mud. “The death of me,” Yuan choked out, holding up his shovel to ward off attack.
“It’s Constable Wu.”
“What are you doing here?” The steward continued to grip the shovel, though it was hardly a threat.
“You told me that Deng didn’t summon his bodyguards the morning of his death.”
“What of it?”
“He did call for his guards, at least one of them. The one that was later reported missing. His fellow bodyguards presumably left to hunt the man down for his betrayal, but he didn’t fail in his duties at all. He protected Deng Zhi with his own life. The general is still alive.”
Yuan stared at him and Kaifeng stared back. It wasn’t long before the elderly steward started shaking, not in fear, but with rage.
“He shouldn’t be alive!” Yuan Lo spat on the ground. “He’s the one that should be dead. That demon, Deng Zhi.”
“You plotted to kill the general,” Kaifeng accused.
“Of course not.” Yuan’s face twisted in grief now that his venom was spent. “I’ve served the Deng family all my life as my father did before me. I remember when Deng Zhi was born. No servant was more loyal.”
His shoulders slumped and he began to sob in defeat.
“Stand up, Mister Yuan.”
The steward obeyed and, in doing so, regained some semblance of dignity. His robe was still splattered with mud. It was embarrassing to see another man in such a state, especially when Kaifeng wasn’t even trying to break him.
“If you wish Deng dead now, why did you lie to protect him?” Kaifeng asked.
“My entire life was devoted to the family. I have no wife, no children. There was only me and my brother’s son, my nephew, Bo Yang. I took him in when his parents died, you see. Bo Yang was tall, strong. When he was of age, he enlisted in Deng’s army. Even made a name for himself. He was like a son to me. Like my own.”
He was rambling. Sometimes it was beneficial when a suspect was so willing to talk, but Yuan was quickly becoming overcome with emotion. And Kaifeng knew where this story was heading.
“Your nephew was one of Deng’s bodyguards,” Kaifeng prompted.
The steward nodded feebly. “When he disappeared, I was afraid he had taken money and turned on Deng himself. I felt such shame, but as I came to suspect Deng Zhi was still alive, I realized what had really happened. It was Deng who had killed my nephew.” His hands balled into fists. “He cut off his head so Bo Yang could not be reborn in the afterlife. It meant nothing to the general other than a way to hide from his enemies, but for my nephew it was his very soul. This is how that bastard rewards a lifetime of service.”
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br /> At the mention of the missing head, Kaifeng stared at the sack on the ground beside Yuan. It was the size of a large wine jug. “That couldn’t possibly be—”
“I paid a Taoist master to summon my nephew’s spirit.” Yuan untied the sack to reveal the clothing inside.
Kaifeng let out his breath, having expected something more grisly. Though if he had recovered the head as evidence, his investigation would have become much more straightforward.
“My nephew’s body is lying inside Deng’s tomb so I paid the daoshi to call Bo Yang’s wandering soul into his clothes so I could bury him properly. Not here,” Yuan explained as Kaifeng looked over their surroundings skeptically. “When I have an opportunity, I’ll take his things to our family plot outside the city. For now, I can’t let Deng Furen or the young lord know I’m aware of any deception.”
“How did you come to suspect?”
“Little details. Supplies were missing from the storerooms. Unusual correspondences arriving at the house. I swear there was a visitor one night. The gate was unlocked early the next morning and certain cabinets had been disturbed. Items were missing. The servants denied taking anything and some of the more superstitious ones claimed Deng’s ghost had visited. But I keep track of everything in that household, Constable. Someone had collected enough food to last for several days.”
“Does Deng’s wife know?”
“But she must! At first, I would accompany Deng Furen whenever she left the house, but lately, she goes alone.”
He was close, then. All Kaifeng had to do was track Deng’s wife and son. It was only a matter of time before they led him to General Deng.
Kaifeng addressed the steward with a grim look. “Are you dedicated to exposing the general?”
Yuan wiped his nose with his sleeve and straightened his shoulders. “Yes, Constable. I want my nephew’s death avenged.”
“Then you should remain in the household as my eyes and ears. Reveal nothing, Mister Yuan. This can be very dangerous for you.”
“Servants are nothing but discreet,” Yuan assured. He looked grimly at the pile of clothes. “I’ve served the Deng family all my life. One thing I know for certain is the general does not hesitate to execute anyone who stands in his way. Even the most loyal of servants will not be spared.”
* * *
AFTER RELEASING THE steward, Kaifeng returned to the judicial compound intending to report his findings to Magistrate Li. However, the sound of voices within Li’s office brought him to a halt.
Inspector Xi Lun. Always Inspector Xi Lun.
The censor was in conversation with the magistrate and Kaifeng could make out other voices within the room. Not one to eavesdrop, Kaifeng retreated to the outer chamber where a clerk sat at his desk sorting through records of the day’s proceedings.
“Tell the magistrate I will be at the Golden Flower Tavern this evening. I will save a jug of ale for him.”
The clerk nodded perfunctorily and returned to his reports. Kaifeng trusted his message would be relayed. He and the magistrate were known to discuss cases with one another at the tavern.
With the day’s business concluded momentarily, Kaifeng returned to the teahouse. It was the same modest building: worn down, charred, broken, but somehow it didn’t seem as dilapidated as he approached it now. Because Mingyu was there, waiting. His chest hitched with anticipation, but when he stepped through the doors, the interior was as silent as ever.
Panic gripped him, but the door to the back was open. Mingyu sat on one of the large stones outside in what had once been a garden. Her knees were pulled up so that her arms could rest upon them. The pose made her appear younger than her age, but then Kaifeng realized he didn’t know Mingyu’s age. Her beauty and sophistication lent her a timeless quality.
“This must have been a tranquil place to have tea in the mornings,” she said in a wistful tone when he stepped outside. “The sun would rise just over the rooftops there. And you can see it setting right now on the opposite side.”
The setting sun cast an orange glow over her face, warming her skin. Her presence momentarily banished the weeds that overran the garden.
She met his eyes. “You’re staring.”
“I still don’t believe you’re here.”
Mingyu smiled at him, her eyes glowing with humor and he felt himself being drawn into the vision she created. She moved aside to allow room for him on the boulder and her shoulder brushed against his as he sat. The world outside receded as he came to her, but he couldn’t be rid of its troubles completely.
“There was no warrant issued for your arrest,” he began.
She angled a cross look at him. “You should at least try to ease into a conversation, Constable.”
“Mingyu, you know we don’t have time—”
She sighed. “I know. But sometimes, don’t you ever wish...”
Her voice trailed away. She was looking at him so intently he wanted to be whatever it was she was searching for, but it was futile.
“What did you discover?” There was resignation in her voice when she continued.
“I spoke to Deng’s steward once again. The body that you found was likely Yuan Lo’s nephew.” He related what the steward had told him.
“Knowing that makes the death even worse.” She shook her head, her eyes dark with sorrow. “Deng had made so many enemies. Even though I was saddened by his death, I wasn’t surprised he met his end in that way.”
“Who is the one foe that Deng fears the most?”
“The Emperor,” she replied without hesitation.
“I think that is who Deng is hiding from.”
“But how does he come back from the dead? He’s removed himself from everything—his position in the bureaucracy, his official command.”
“This is an endgame ploy. He can’t turn back now.”
Her expression darkened. “You’re speaking of rebellion.”
“For years, Deng had been building his own army. He claimed that he sought to protect the empire against other warlords gaining power. But now that a new Emperor has taken the throne, he’s become the threat.”
Mingyu listened patiently as he laid out his theory. He was so caught up in it that he didn’t notice how quickly the sky was getting dark. He heard a low rumble and Mingyu pressed a hand to her stomach.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Not yet. I’m a fugitive in hiding, remember?”
He was lower than a dog. “I’m sorry for that. I’ll be back shortly.”
Kaifeng headed back out to the streets, ashamed at his neglect. He knew nothing of being a proper host. He knew even less about being properly attentive to a lady like Mingyu.
There was a food stand one lane over selling bowls of stew. He stacked two bowls onto a tray and procured a flask of wine at the shop at the corner. By the time he returned, the veranda had been swept and a sitting area laid out with a bamboo mat. The paper lantern he’d brought from the night before was hanging from the eaves. The small flicker of light beckoned him forward.
“You must become absorbed in your investigations and forget to eat often.” Mingyu appeared to take the tray from his hands. “That would explain why you’re getting so thin.”
She set the tray down and rearranged the items onto the mat with an expert hand.
“I’m not that thin. It’s only my height,” he started to explain, before realizing that she was teasing him again.
“We can eat with a view of the garden.” She made a graceful gesture to invite him to sit.
He sank down cross-legged on the mat while she knelt opposite him, somehow still appearing elegant. Mingyu busied herself with serving the wine, handing the cup to him with both hands as if they were sitting at a banquet on embroidered pillows.
&n
bsp; After the first few moments of discomfort, Kaifeng felt himself relaxing in her presence. Mingyu had a way of putting him at ease through small gestures and courtesies. A sly glance there, a nod here. A man could quite easily become spoiled by this.
The stew was a thick mixture of lamb and goose cooked with garlic and root vegetables. He waited for Mingyu to begin eating; he had at least that much in the way of manners. She dipped her spoon and took her first mouthful.
“It’s good,” she murmured.
The taste of it was rich was spices. Far better fare than Kaifeng usually had for himself. They ate in silence for most of the meal, but he spied Mingyu watching him when the stew was nearly finished.
“It would be nice to stay here,” she said simply.
“Here in Changan.” Because she couldn’t possibly mean here, with him.
“But I could only remain in Changan as Mingyu, a courtesan of the Lotus Palace.”
“Did you really find that so objectionable?”
“Of course I did. I...I was trapped there.”
He gave her a hard look. “I’ve watched you enter a banquet hall and seen the way you command attention from everyone present.”
That immediately raised her defenses. “I ran away from the Lotus, didn’t I?”
“You have objections to Xi Lun trying to lay claim to you. Before that, you resisted General Deng’s claim. I think you must have come to me because I’m the only man who absolutely cannot claim you.”
Mingyu had been soft and pleasing until that point, but in the next moment she became another Mingyu, one that was much harder, sharper. “What was last night, then?”
She was ruthless. He went hard at the memory, despite the impending argument.
“Last night was more about you laying claim to me,” he pointed out.
It was always that way with Mingyu. Every time she appeared to surrender, it was anything but that. They faced off now, desire heating his blood and his muscles tense as he fought against it.
“You’re only fooling yourself that you want to be free,” he pressed on. “What you really want is power. You can’t bear to be under anyone’s command. That is why you came to me.”