The Lotus Palace

by Jeannie Lin

  Quietly, he retreated from the garden and went to seek out Wei-wei. As usual, his sister was in the study watching over Chang-min’s studies.

  “Ah, the illustrious imperial scholar himself,” she said, beaming.

  Wei-wei had been in an unshakably good mood since he had passed the exams. His achievement was a reflection of her own success as a tutor, which he didn’t begrudge her. Wei-wei had always been more focused and more dedicated than he was.

  “Can we speak privately, Little Sister?”

  “Follow your brother’s good example,” she told Chang-min as parting advice before she closed the study door.

  They walked together into the parlor where he noted the furnishings had been rearranged. A prized painting as well as jade carving had been taken out for display.

  “What’s happening here?”

  Wei-wei swatted his arm. “Don’t you remember? Your wife’s family is visiting today.”

  His family always spoke of the arranged marriage as if the ceremony had already taken place.

  “Right, I remember now. I wanted to ask you about something,” he said, eager to change the subject.

  Wei-wei waited with her face tilted toward him expectantly. She wore a serious expression, truly having inherited all of the determination and focus that he lacked.

  “Does Mother ever speak to you about Lady Shang?”

  She blinked at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Does she—?” This was difficult. These were private matters that even family rarely intruded upon. “Is she angry that Lady Shang is Father’s constant companion while she remains in the capital?”

  Now Wei-wei was uncomfortable as well. “From everything I’ve seen, Lady Shang is always obedient and agreeable.”

  He rubbed at the back of his neck. “But there must have been strife when Father first brought another woman home. Even if there wasn’t love between Father and Mother—”

  “What makes you say there isn’t love between them?” she asked.

  “Well...ah...”

  They were huddled in the corner and whispering as if they were children conspiring together. He certainly felt like a youth, his face heating the way it was.

  “I assumed if a man was truly in love with his wife then he wouldn’t feel the need to...well, since Mother had already given him a son and a daughter, what other reason...?”

  This was awful. He was miserable. He could see his sister was miserable listening to him struggle.

  “Huang.” Thankfully, she stopped him. “Don’t you know? Father didn’t bring Lady Shang into our family. It was Mother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “These are women’s issues, Huang. Why do you need to ask such things?”

  “They concern our family. I...ah...should know about them.”

  Wei-wei, who was usually brash enough to say anything to him, was blushing. The boundaries between parent and child and between the issues of men and women in the household were so distinct that it was difficult to even broach the subject. There was no language for it.

  “I was a difficult birth,” Wei-wei began. “Mother lost two unborn children after me. When she couldn’t share Father’s bed— Must you really hear all this?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “She sought out someone who was well mannered and respectful who would make Father happy and who would join harmoniously with the rest of the family. Is that not love?”

  Suddenly, all of his memories of his parents took on a new light. He had been a fool to think that separating his life would be so easy: honor and duty on one side, love and passion on another. He had been mistaken about everything: what it meant to raise a family, to run a household. To sacrifice. To love.

  “Little Sister.”

  “Yes, jinshi?”

  For someone who had attained an imperial scholar’s degree, he was ignorant about a lot of things. Wei-wei had proven herself much more clever than he when it came to being an obedient daughter, yet still getting her way.

  “I need your help.”

  * * *

  NOT SINCE THE earthquake last year had there been such commotion. Excited chatter filled the Lotus Palace as the house completed its preparations. Every surface had been swept and polished and cleaned. Old Auntie stocked the pantry with the finest tea available in the marketplace and everyone was dressed in their best silk robes for the occasion.

  The highly anticipated visitor that morning was not a gentleman, but a woman. Yue-ying hid behind one of the screens in the entrance hall to catch a glimpse of the illustrious visitor. She tried to remain as still as a cat as she peeked through the tiny crack between the bamboo panels.

  The moment their guest arrived, a hush fell over the Lotus Palace as if the Empress herself were visiting. With jade bracelets on each wrist and strings of pearls in her hair, Madame Sun greeted the noblewoman just inside the door.

  “Welcome! Welcome! Please come in.” She bowed three times to the elder Lord Bai’s wife.

  Mingyu was beside her, speaking in that sultry, stately tone that she had cultivated.

  “Bai Furen, what an honor to receive you here at our humble establishment.”

  “Lady Mingyu, I have long heard of your name spoken with great praise.”

  Yue-ying squinted and caught a glimpse of a surprisingly small woman. Her robe was deep green in color, embroidered with gold chrysanthemums and elegantly draped. Her hair was tucked into a high chignon, resembling summer clouds, and her high cheekbones and well-defined chin lent a strength to her features that was tempered by a delicately shaped mouth and soft, strikingly sensual eyes.

  Though she was hidden, Yue-ying’s palms began to sweat and her pulse skipped at the realization that she was standing no more than ten paces away from Bai Huang’s mother. She had heard very little about the woman, but the furen of a powerful man was someone to be respected.

  Lady Bai and Mingyu retreated to the parlor for tea and Yue-ying slipped out from behind the screen to sneak along the corridor, stopping just short of the doorway blocked off by a sheer curtain.

  She had hardly believed the letter when it arrived. Bai Huang’s mother had come to have tea and discuss matters of importance between their two families with Mingyu. The women were exchanging a few pleasantries now, though the conversation was overpowered by the pounding of Yue-ying’s heart.

  She leaned closer to the curtain and contemplated pulling it back just a sliver, when a low voice sounded very close to her ear.

  “What underhanded deeds are you planning here?”

  She spun around and was immediately caught in a pair of strong arms.

  “Huang! What is going on?”

  Bai Huang hushed her while his arms circled with aching familiarity around her waist. He glanced toward the curtain. “Don’t interrupt. They’re discussing our future in there.”

  A mischievous half smile was fixed on his face and the sight of it hooked deep into her. She’d missed his smile. She’d missed him, but she hadn’t lost her sense of reason. Why would he bring his mother to arrange for a concubine when he was to be married soon?

  “There is no future between us. What of your wife?”

  He drew her closer. The smile had faded away and his look was as serious as she had ever seen him. “It’s my hope that you will be my wife, Yue-ying. My first wife. My only wife.”

  “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a figure wandering at the other end of the hall, peering curiously into various chambers.

  “Wei-wei!” Bai Huang whispered sharply.

  Wei-wei kept on moving, clearly ignoring her brother as he called out to her once again. She darted into one of the smaller sitting rooms while the two of them trailed after her.

  “You’re supposed to be with Mother,” Bai Huang admonished.

  “I’ve never been inside a pleasure house,” Wei-wei protested, her gaze sliding over every inch of the room. She paused to study a se
t of characters that had been written in black ink directly onto the wooden panels of the wall. It was a couplet about the beauty of the peonies in spring, a thinly veiled erotic poem brushed onto the wall at some late hour by some ardent scholar. Wei-wei stared at it as if committing it to memory.

  “Why is your family here in the Pingkang li?” Yue-ying’s heart had been beating too fast for too long. She was startled and confused and her head was beginning to throb.

  Bai Huang opened his mouth to speak, but Wei-wei was quicker. “When our father refused to let him marry and threatened to disown him, Elder Brother was at a loss.” She brushed at the front of Bai Huang’s robe sympathetically. “So he asked me for my help and now we are both here to accompany our mother. She wanted to formally ask Mingyu’s permission, as the head of your family, for the two of you to marry.”

  Yue-ying looked over at Bai Huang. “But your marriage was arranged years ago.”

  His eyes never left her face. “A new arrangement has been made.”

  “Ah, yes,” Wei-wei began with pride. “I brought my younger brother to the park where I knew Huang’s bride-to-be would be taking a stroll with her cousin. From there, I simply let youth and the spring air take its own course. An arranged marriage is an agreement between families, so our two families were able to...rearrange things to everyone’s agreement.”

  Yue-ying frowned at the both of them in disbelief. “So the girl is now betrothed to...”

  “My younger brother,” Bai Huang finished.

  “It was a minor scandal. Lovesick weeping on both sides,” Wei-wei added, quite satisfied as she took hold of Yue-ying’s arm conspiratorially. “Chang-min ignored his studies for three whole days. He’s never done that. You see, Little Sister, or, rather, Elder Sister, since you will soon be married to my brother, we women cannot take the imperial exams or hold office. The only power we have is within the home—in the decisions surrounding the education of children and betrothals and marriages.”

  “And I am very grateful for your wisdom as a woman, Little Sister,” Bai Huang said with grudging affection.

  “My elder brother made the mistake of going to Father to try to break his betrothal. What our imperial scholar never realized was that the only person who could challenge Father—was Mother.”

  “But how could Bai Furen ever accept someone like me as a daughter-in-law?”

  “Someone like you?” Bai Huang replied.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

  “A woman who has shown herself to be clever and brave?” he challenged softly. “A woman who I could never forget even when she wanted me to?”

  “More like a woman who is able to keep my brother in line,” Wei-wei interrupted. “He hasn’t gambled in a year and you didn’t even have to throw him onto a ship. That and Mother wants grandchildren before next summer. The best chances for that are if Huang marries someone he’s obviously enamored with.”

  They both stood blinking at Wei-wei, who regarded them with a smug look before turning back to the poem. Bai Huang’s hand stole around hers.

  “I am,” he whispered. “Enamored with you.”

  She looked at him and her breath caught in her throat. When she closed her eyes, then opened them, he was still there. This was no illusion. He was solid and real beside her.

  “Why do the scholars write on the walls?” Wei-wei asked, interrupting the moment.

  “Because we want our thoughts to be immortalized. The entire quarter serves as a monument to our cleverness,” he replied dryly.

  She touched her fingers to the calligraphy. “I think it’s fascinating.”

  “You should watch your sister closely,” Yue-ying warned. “She may run away and register herself as a courtesan.”

  Wei-wei sniffed. “What if I did?”

  There was no answer. Bai Huang had gone quiet as he stared at the characters painted onto the wall beneath his sister’s hand.

  “The ink was still fresh,” he muttered to himself. “She had been writing something that night.”

  “Lord Bai?”

  Wei-wei joined in, “Elder Brother?”

  He looked up at them, but his gaze was far away. “Huilan told me she had information. Father was known for hunting down pirates and smugglers. Huilan came to me not because she thought I was trustworthy, but because she knew about our father.”

  “Why speak of this now? Huilan’s spirit is at peace,” Yue-ying said. It was bad luck to speak of the dead. She wasn’t always so superstitious, but, with their match being such an unlikely one, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  “I don’t think Huilan is at peace yet, but she soon will be,” he said darkly. He turned to Wei-wei. “If Mother asks for me, tell her I needed to attend to an important matter and I’ll be back shortly. Yue-ying as well.”

  “Scandalous,” Wei-wei huffed beneath her breath.

  Bai Huang’s expression softened as he turned to her. “Come with me, Yue-ying. We started this together—let’s finish this together.”

  * * *

  SOFT MUSIC FLOATED from the windows of the House of a Hundred Songs and Madame Lui answered the door herself.

  “Lord Bai, it’s been too long!” she greeted warmly. Yue-ying received the barest of nods, a greeting that was considerably less warm. “So the news must be true. I must offer my best wishes for your happiness.”

  Despite her words, Madame Lui made no effort to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that after Huilan’s unfortunate death, he would have given his attentions to another one of the courtesans in the Hundred Songs.

  The headmistress started to seat them and offer tea, but Huang interrupted her. As rude as it might seem, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Huilan’s murderer had gone unpunished for too long as it was.

  “This may be impertinent to ask, but may I see Huilan’s chamber once more?” he asked.

  They followed Madame up the stairs to the room at the corner. Inside, the furniture had been rearranged and the walls were covered with draperies.

  “We hired a Taoist priest to come and exorcise any evil spirits that lingered,” she explained. “Afterward, I offered the chamber to Mei, but she refused to sleep here, so two of the younger girls share it. They feel less afraid staying here together.”

  For a moment, Huang feared that all of the writing on the wall had been scrubbed away. He pulled aside one of the draperies and was relieved to see the calligraphy was still there. Starting at one end, he searched methodically beneath each curtain until he had circled the room.

  “What are you looking for?” Yue-ying asked.

  “When I came to Huilan’s chamber the night of her death, there was an ink stone and brush set out in the sitting room. I assumed that she had written a letter the night of her death, but it had been taken or destroyed by her killer.”

  He scanned the characters on the wall and a chill ran down his spine. The brushstrokes were hastily executed, likely put in place by a hand that was trembling.

  “Madame Lui, can you call Mei in here?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the calligraphy.

  Because Bai Huang was who he was, the headmistress disappeared immediately to see to his request.

  Yue-ying came to stand beside him. “What does it say?”

  “These two lines are from a famous poem.” He traced a finger down the two columns on the right. “But from here, it becomes nonsensical. These characters have no meaning when put together like this.”

  “Lord Bai, did you wish to see me?” Mei stood in the doorway with Madame Lui just behind her.

  “Come in.”

  The courtesan hesitated as he beckoned her forward. Finally, with a fortifying breath, she stepped into the room. Her gown was yellow in color with embroidered trim that looked like peach blossoms. Her hair was swept up and pinned in a romantic style and jewels sparkled like dewdrops throughout it. With Huilan no longer there, Mei was the Hundred Songs’s most celebrated courtesan and she was dressed for the part.r />
  “It’s been a while since we’ve spoken,” Huang began.

  He gestured toward one of the stools and she hesitated before sitting down. He sat down next to her and affected a smile. “Madame Lui mentioned that you refused this room. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Little Mei.”

  Yue-ying made a coughing noise and shot him a quick, but pointed look. He continued in a less flirtatious manner, not that the courtesan noticed his attempt at charm. She was picking at the edge of her sleeve and her eyes darted away from his.

  “You’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?” he asked.

  “Lord Bai,” Yue-ying scolded. “Don’t frighten her.”

  Mei gave her a grateful look and relaxed a bit. “I’m not afraid. This room always feels a little cold when I pass by it, that’s all.”

  “You and Huilan were friends, were you not?”

  “Like sisters.”

  “After the dragonboat festival, you were both hosting a party in the banquet room. Then Huilan left to go up to her chamber, while you remained with the guests.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And you never left the room.”

  “No...never.”

  The answer came after the barest of pauses.

  “Not even for a moment?” he demanded.

  “Maybe for just a moment. But not long at all!” she amended.

  “Did you go to meet someone?” Yue-ying chimed in. “With so many guests coming and going, festivals provide plenty of opportunity for couples to meet in secret.”

  Mei’s gaze darted to Madame Lui, then back to him. “Why are you causing trouble for me?”

  “This is for Huilan’s sake. She has been gone for a year now. It’s time to make peace with her spirit.”

  “I left to meet with a friend. He came to the back door and we only spoke for a short amount of time. He was only a friend,” Mei said fiercely.