by Jeannie Lin
Mingyu sat stunned. Li Yen looked equally troubled over the violent outburst. The only person who didn’t appear affected was Deng Furen.
“I don’t know what to think about any of this,” she went on evenly. “My husband was buried. He was honored as a hero and given a state funeral. Now you tell me that man I laid to rest wasn’t my husband?”
“If General Deng were alive, where would he be?” Li Yen asked.
Deng Furen shook her head. “He can’t be alive. If he was alive, he would have come for us. It’s cruel for you to even suggest this, Magistrate.” She fixed her gaze onto Mingyu. “And you, Lady Mingyu. After all that our family has done for you, you shouldn’t be putting these ideas into men’s heads.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
KAIFENG ASKED FOR one of the maidservants to accompany them on the search. As for the rest of the household, he had them rounded up into one of the private gardens with guards stationed at the entrance to watch over them.
“So we can make quick work of this,” he explained to Lord Bai. “Li Yen will only be able to detain Deng Furen and her son for so long. The lady of the house will no doubt have objections to family property being intruded upon and if her loyal servants rally to her aid, this could become a disaster.”
Bai Huang looked across the span of the second courtyard to the main house. “This is a large residence for us to do a thorough search. Even with your constables, it could be days.”
“We’ll need to focus our efforts.” He gestured the housekeeper forward. She was a young woman, seventeen years at most. “Show us General Deng’s chamber as well as where Deng Furen and Deng Enlai stay.”
“Is there anything in particular we’re looking for?” Bai asked as they entered the family’s private quarters in the main house.
“Correspondence, anything that might indicate he’s returned or where he might be. They would be hidden among personal effects.”
The general’s chambers had been untouched since his death. The two of them sorted quickly through his wardrobe and trunks without any success. The cabinets and shelves in the study similarly yielded nothing.
“The family had just been summoned to Changan by the Emperor,” Bai Huang recounted as they moved onto the adjoining chamber belonging to Deng’s wife. “They were only to be here temporarily.”
“Or so they thought.”
The young lord nodded. “The Emperor must have summoned Deng here to the capital to keep his enemies close. And what better to hold over his head than his family?”
“Deng must have realized quickly how much danger he was in. Even Mingyu knew of how the Emperor feared his growing power. Realizing how swiftly the ax was coming down, he plotted escape by faking his own death.”
“Perhaps knowing it wouldn’t be long before his enemies came after him, anyway,” Lord Bai suggested.
Kaifeng paused at the doors of the wardrobe, stared at the assortment of women’s clothing and effects inside in bewilderment, then gestured for Bai Huang to take over the task. He at least had a wife and these things weren’t so unfamiliar.
Moving to the corner, Kaifeng scanned through the combs and various pots and powders on the dressing table. “As a husband, would a man do such a thing and not tell his own wife?”
Bai Huang closed the wardrobe doors and paused to consider the question. “He would if he were trying to protect her. Deng’s wife was the private part of his life, not part of his plans and schemes.”
Something about the way the nobleman spoke triggered a memory. “Mingyu said that you spoke to the authorities on my behalf.”
“Ah, Wu. There’s no need to thank me.”
“I was actually wondering which authorities those were. Xi Lun, as a member of the Censorate, reports to the Emperor. There are few authorities who could overturn his command.”
Bai blinked at him, his expression perfectly blank.
“You know quite a bit of detail of the activity surrounding General Deng. Details that would be restricted to the inner circles. You also took an interest early on in my investigation. Could it be you’re acting in a much higher capacity than a record-keeper in the imperial archives?”
“You’re a demon, Wu.” He sighed. “You and Mingyu belong together.”
An odd feeling made his chest hitch.
“What is it, Wu?”
“Just the injury,” he said quickly.
He pressed a hand to his ribs, but it did nothing to ease the pain. Bai Huang was less than convinced.
“You know Madame Sun has been making discreet inquiries into Mingyu’s whereabouts,” he said somberly. “Yue-ying has pleaded with me to buy out her sister’s contract, but it’s not so easily done. Madame Sun is a practical woman. She won’t let Mingyu go without extorting as much for her as she can. There’s also our family name to consider. It’s not so much Mingyu’s reputation, but her name inevitably draws attention. Mingyu knows what an uncomfortable situation it would create.”
“What use is there in discussing this? Let us focus on this investigation.”
Kaifeng started to exit the chamber, but the nobleman stepped in front of him. “I was surprised when Mingyu came to me to plead for you. On the surface, no one would believe it, but you’re a good man, Wu Kaifeng. All I wanted to say is that the challenges may seem insurmountable, but maybe there’s some way.”
“Lord Bai, I would be lying to say I don’t think of these things, but it does nothing to worry about problems that can’t be resolved. The most I can do for Mingyu, the only thing I can offer her, is to solve this case.”
Bai Huang nodded solemnly. “Let’s continue, then.”
The son’s chamber was sparser than any of the others. The only item of note was the case containing his father’s sword.
“It was gifted by the previous Emperor when Deng was promoted,” Kaifeng explained as Bai Huang admired the blade. “The bodyguard was beheaded by a razor-sharp edge and there was no weapon found at the site. I considered that it might have been this sword that did the deed.”
“In his son’s hands?”
Kaifeng recounted the rest of his suspicions. “I had doubts that Enlai would behead his own father unless it was an honor killing. It was clear that Deng’s standing with the current Emperor was precarious. But now that we know the victim wasn’t General Deng, it’s possible that Deng had already hidden away the previous night and Enlai decapitated the bodyguard to aid his father’s escape.”
“He wouldn’t leave his son to his enemies,” Bai Huang pointed out. “Not when it’s the son that carries on the father’s legacy.”
It was difficult for Kaifeng, not having any strong ties to his family to understand such sentiments. Even when Old Guo had told him he was a good son, he’d been taken aback. He had never imagined the physician thought of him that way.
“Deng must have stayed close because he wanted to ensure that he and his family were all able to get away. Tell me the truth, Lord Bai. Was the Emperor trying to assassinate his own general?”
Slowly, Bai Huang closed the lid of the sword case and turned to face him. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that, but I think the Emperor was not unhappy to find out that someone else had taken care of Deng Zhi. The Emperor was overjoyed enough to celebrate with a grand funeral in Deng’s honor.”
“But now that the general was not assassinated—”
“To the public and to all of his potential supporters, Deng must remain dead. Which is why everyone inside this mansion must remain silent about what they know until we find the elusive general. A rebellion is nothing without a strong leader at the head.”
Kaifeng nodded with grim satisfaction. At least a few pieces were falling into place. “From the moment Deng’s family set foot in Changan, they were caught in the Emperor’s trap.”
It was clear now th
at the Emperor had wanted Deng incapacitated, perhaps put on house arrest with his entire family in the capital. But Deng faked his own death in an effort to escape and rally his forces.
“What next, Wu? There’s nothing here.”
“There is one more place.”
Yuan Lo’s room would have fit in one corner of any of the previous bedchambers. It was located next to the kitchen near the front of the house. For a servant, it was something to be said that he had his own private area.
There was not much to it. A plain-looking bed on one side and a small table on the other. The search was nearly done just upon opening the door. His belongings were all laid out on a shelf beside the bed. Old shoes, a jar of medicated ointment, a tunic that needed patching.
“Yuan Lo knew something,” Kaifeng insisted. “He suspected his master was still alive and that his nephew had died in Deng’s place.”
“The steward is being held in prison, is he not? We’ll question him. We’ll question all the servants again,” Bai said wearily.
The nobleman was getting impatient and Kaifeng’s blood was boiling, as well. Deng’s disappearance was even more baffling than his supposed death. Surely someone connected to him must know something. He needed allies to stay hidden. Someone to supply him with food and act as a messenger. And given that the Palace Bureau had been secretly searching for him as well as the constables, where could he be hiding that no one would know?
Kaifeng was about to leave, when something in him insisted on one more pass. He inspected each part of the room once more as if it were his first time. Bai Huang waited by the door which actually made things a bit easier given the cramped space. Tucked beside the foot of the bed was a chamber pot Kaifeng hadn’t noticed before.
“Where was this?”
“No one’s been by to empty it. I set it aside so we wouldn’t knock it over,” Bai Huang replied distastefully.
An aristocrat and his manners, Kaifeng scoffed. He nudged the pot with his foot and felt some weight to it. Yuan Lo had been imprisoned three days ago, but the room certainly didn’t smell as if the chamber pot hadn’t been taken out.
Crouching down, Kaifeng dragged the ceramic vessel out into the open. It was heavier than he expected. There was some object wrapped in oiled cloth inside the clean pot. With some effort, he managed to wrestle out the bundle. Whatever was inside felt loose in his hands, like a sack of rocks. Untying the cloth, he laid out the contents on the bed.
The hidden object had actually been broken into pieces. Not rock.
“Jade,” Bai Huang declared, peering over his shoulder.
Kaifeng picked up a pale green fragment and let out a deep breath. What he held in his palm distinctly resembled a nose. The Emperor had honored Deng with a head carved out of jade which was to be buried with him. Kaifeng remembered the widow boasting about the imperial gift.
“Deng Zhi is hiding exactly where a dead man would be found. He’s in the family mausoleum.”
* * *
NOW THEY STOOD in the mausoleum while Kaifeng, Li Yen and Bai Huang stared at a figure lying on the ground. It was the body of General Deng. No one had said a word since they’d entered. When Bai Huang finally spoke, his voice echoed off the walls of the stone chamber.
“Imagine finding a dead man,” the nobleman intoned, “in his own tomb.”
Magistrate Li pressed a handkerchief to his nose. His complexion was decidedly pale beneath his hand.
“Time of death was likely four or five days ago judging from the color of the skin and the degree of rot,” Kaifeng reported.
The two men stared at him.
“I’ll be waiting outside,” Li said, his voice hollowed by an attempt to breathe only through his mouth.
Lord Bai grimaced, but stiffened his jaw and stayed where he was. “Deng may have stretched out his life by a few days, but what a miserable existence.”
Kaifeng had to agree. The mausoleum was dark and cold. One corner had been set up as a shelter, with a sleeping pallet and oil lamp as well as other supplies. There were bowls of food present, half-eaten. A jug of wine rested beside a tray.
As hard-hearted as Kaifeng was, the thought of General Deng, at one time feared and respected, ending his days huddled in his own tomb was enough to shake him. He was very grateful that he had sent Mingyu back to the Bai mansion before embarking for the mausoleum. She didn’t need to see this or know that such horror existed.
“He couldn’t have planned to remain here long,” he theorized. “Deng must have thought he would hide and gather his resources to make an escape. No one would find it unusual for servants to bring food and wine to honor the dead.”
“Then what happened?”
There were no obvious marks on Deng’s body and the food would indicate he didn’t starve to death.
Kaifeng picked up an empty cup and held it to the light. A small amount of liquid pooled in the bottom with a faint tinge of green to it. Bamboo leaf liquor. He remembered the sweet taste of it on his tongue and the underlying tones of cinnamon and clove. It would have been easy to mask another substance beneath the blend of flavors.
“My guess would be poison.”
“Was this self-inflicted to save face?” Lord Bai wondered aloud.
Not likely from a man who had been ready to challenge the Emperor himself, Kaifeng thought. “We have one more place to go before this is finished.”
* * *
WHEN KAIFENG ENTERED the prison cell, he found Yuan Lo trembling on the floor with his hand clutched to his stomach. Sweat glistened on his forehead and dripped from his face. His clothes were soaked through.
“Is he dead?” the steward asked through clenched teeth.
Kaifeng nodded.
“Then it’s done.”
There was something clenched in the steward’s hand. Kaifeng crouched down and pried a piece of fried cake from his fingers. He must have smuggled it into the cell.
“What was in this?”
Yuan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
He clutched his stomach as another spasm racked his thin frame. Kaifeng was ensnared within a much older memory. His foster father retreating to his room as he did often in the days following the sentencing. The door had closed so quietly behind him. It was the last time Kaifeng saw Old Guo alive.
He turned his attention back to Yuan. Most likely he had ingested xiong huang, commonly available, potent, quick to take effect. The yellow powder, once properly prepared, was lethal even in small amounts. Kaifeng pressed his fingers over Yuan’s pulse point as he’d seen his foster father do so many times. The steward’s qi was weak, his heart rate off rhythm.
With all the odds and ends of knowledge Kaifeng had gleaned from Old Guo’s shop, he’d yet to actually heal anyone. Even now, he knew Yuan Lo would soon start vomiting. The pain in his insides would become unbearable and he could be dead within hours or days.
“If you didn’t swallow too much poison, there might be a chance,” he offered, but his tone was less than confident.
The steward shoved Kaifeng away. “No, Constable. This is how it should be.”
Suddenly his eyes squeezed shut and the same hand that had just pushed him away grabbed onto his sleeve and held on until his knuckles were white. After the spasm passed, Yuan opened his eyes, which now glistened with unshed tears.
“I’m getting old, with no children of my own. I have nothing waiting for me but a lifetime of loneliness. That bastard...that bastard had everything! He had to take the one thing I cared about from me. The one person who mattered.”
The sound of his sobbing filled the cell. Yuan had resolved to die, but Kaifeng could see the fear in his eyes. There was no dignity or pride left. Everything that Yuan had yet to feel, he would feel it now, in these last few moments.
“Uncle.” Kaifeng di
dn’t know why he chose the familiar address, for use among two strangers. “I know of another remedy. One that acts quickly. Not a cure, but...but something for the pain.”
There was understanding in the old man’s eyes and even gratitude. As if Kaifeng’s offer was the best that fate had presented him in a long, long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
OF ALL THINGS, Mingyu found herself sewing among other ladies. Sewing.
She looked up to see her sister focused on a peony design and Wei-wei meticulously creating a decorative border around her handkerchief.
“They have been away for less than an hour,” Yue-ying chided, not looking up from the red petal she was working on.
Mingyu felt as if ten hours had passed while she tried to focus on a butterfly pattern to distract herself. It was useless. She set it down to watch her sister. “You never used to sew.”
“Bai Furen has been teaching me. When your time is your own, you have a lot of it.”
Yue-ying smiled at her and Mingyu couldn’t help but smile back, her heart swelling with affection. Her sister had spent too many years either as someone’s slave or servant. There could be no better way to say it; this was her time now.
“I’m worried about them,” Mingyu confessed. “General Deng is a fierce warrior. If he senses an ambush, he’ll fight to the death.”
“The constables are all armed. They’ll be protected,” Wei-wei reassured. “This has been quite an adventure these past days. Usually this house is so quiet.”
“I must tell your mother how grateful I am for her hospitality,” Mingyu said.
The lady of the house had told Mingyu that she was family with a bit of stiffness in her spine and bewilderment in her tone. Then Madame Bai had retreated to her private chamber with a headache. She seemed to suffer many of those lately.
This was more than hospitality, it was protection. For the past three days, Mingyu and Kaifeng had walled themselves away from the rest of the world, but it couldn’t remain like this for long. She didn’t belong here.