Lady Li nodded. “Thank you.” She then went to Swan’s side and motioned for Eunuch Bai to help her. They each draped one of Swan’s arms over their shoulders and slowly moved her to the other room. She wasn’t heavy. Gong Furen had noted how thin Swan was, and Lady Li had to admit that she wasn’t just a skinny woman—she was barely more than bones. Hopefully she would eat more food once she was completely cut off from her opium supply.
When they got to the other room, they laid Swan in the bed. It wasn’t cold, but Swan’s skin felt cool and clammy to the touch. Lady Li put a blanket over her and ordered a brazier to be brought in and lit.
“You should go to bed now, my lady,” Eunuch Bai said. “One of the maids can stay up with her.”
Lady Li ran her hand over Swan’s brow and could almost feel the pain the girl was in. She felt a sudden pang of guilt over leaving her at home this evening. She hadn’t really left her behind out of decency to protect Swan’s reputation. She’d done it out of spite. And look what happened. She could have died from ingesting so much opium.
“No,” Lady Li said. “I’ll stay with her. She needs someone who won’t fall asleep and not be there for her if she needs anything.”
“Then I will stay as well,” Eunuch Bai said as he pulled over a chair and sat in it.
“There is no need for such gallantry,” Lady Li chided. “Go to bed, you old fool.”
Eunuch Bai laughed. “I’m younger than you.”
With a sigh and roll of her eyes, she knew that there was nothing she could do to get Eunuch Bai to leave, so she simply accepted that she was going to have a visitor for the night. She took Swan’s hand in her own and sat back to wait for the sunrise.
8
“Wake up, Anguo!” his mother shrieked as she threw open the curtain covering the window to his room, letting the sun in and shine directly on his face.
Inspector Gong groaned and turned away. If the sun was shining that brightly, he knew he had overslept, but he had no idea how much sleep he had actually gotten that night. By the time he stumbled into bed, he heard the servants starting their morning tasks. He needed to get up, but he also needed to rest his mind if he was to be at his best.
“Go away, Ma,” he moaned as he pulled a blanket over his face.
“Get up,” she said as she pulled the covering back. “We need to talk about that girl.”
He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t talk about this,” he said. “There was a murder at the opera last night…”
“There was a murder at the opera?” his mother exclaimed. Then he remembered that they were trying to keep that a secret for the time being while he tried to flush out the killer.
“Dammit,” he said, sitting up and stretching. “You weren’t supposed to know that. Don’t tell anyone with your big mouth, understand?”
“I don’t care anyway,” his mother said as she walked around the room picking dirty clothes up off the floor and tossing them out the door for a maid to collect. “Bunch of low-class people, performing for money. Practically riverbed beggars is all they are. And now letting a woman perform? What is this world coming to?”
“Forget it,” he said as he went to his washstand and poured some water into a bowl to splash his face with. “The point was that I can’t worry about whatever you’re in a huff about this time. I have to focus on this new case.”
“Bah,” his mother said with a wave of her arms. “There is always a new case. Someone dying. Someone stealing. Someone starting a fight. You can’t keep putting off your life just because someone else made a bad decision.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes in the mirror of his washing table. He needed to shave his chin. He was looking a bit scruffy. His queue was becoming a bit unkempt as well. He needed to brush his hair out, have it oiled and waxed and re-plaited. He was due for a head shave as well. He should ask one of the maids to do it for him, but he didn’t know when he would have time. Even on a normal day he usually didn’t get home until after most of the servants were asleep. And he rarely had normal days.
He cleared his throat and headed for the door. “Well, now that you’ve gotten me up, I might as well get to work.”
“Don’t you dare, Gong Anguo!” his mother called after him as they went to the large shared dining room where several of his siblings were having breakfast.
He sat at the table and a maid served him a steaming bowl of congee with pickled vegetables on top and some steamed buns.
“We have to talk about Lady Swan,” his mother said, pushing her older son out of the way so she could sit right next to Inspector Gong.
He ripped open a bun so the meat inside could cool. “What about her?” he asked, not really wanting to know. “Didn’t you meet with Lady Li about her? Isn’t this settled yet?”
“I met with Lady Li,” his mother confirmed. “But nothing is settled yet. I wish you would reconsider.”
“Why?” the inspector asked, dipping the bun into his congee. “What can you possibly have against her?”
His mother blew out her cheeks. “What don’t I have against her? She’s too old. She’s used up. She’s not one of us. Did you even ask the prince? What is the point in continuing until you have his permission?”
“I did speak with the prince,” he said, not wanting to address his mother’s other baseless concerns. “But we got distracted by the thing at the opera. I’ll have to talk to him again later.”
“What thing at the opera?” his sister Daiyu asked.
“Someone went and got murdered,” his mother growled. “What else is new? We need to deal with Swan now.”
“Who was murdered?” his brother Zhuang asked, bouncing his little girl on his lap.
“Dammit, Ma!” Inspector Gong snapped. “What did I say about your big mouth?”
“Oh, this must be good,” his other sister Biyu said. “What happened?”
“Shut up, you yapping dogs,” his mother yelled, slapping her hand on the table. “Look at me, Anguo. It makes no sense to marry this girl. Take her for a concubine, yes, but not a wife.”
“I’m not married, Ma,” Inspector Gong said. “If I don’t take her as a wife, it will be a grave insult to her, and to Lady Li.”
“But what about the insult to me?” his mother cried. “Have you no thought for the woman who carried you in her own body for months on end? Who nursed you for five long years?”
His siblings sputtered in laughter at that, and his face grew red. “Ma…” he warned.
“What have I ever done to deserve such treatment by my own son?” she lamented.
“You should have been an opera singer,” Inspector Gong said. “You would put those supposed actors I saw last night to shame.”
“Stop making such jokes!” his mother said, slapping his arm. “Please, consider your mother before you make this mistake.”
“When I didn’t want to marry, you said I was punishing you,” he said, fed up. “Now, when I want to marry, you say she isn’t good enough, even though she was good enough for a Manchu lord not long ago.”
“You really want some Manchu—” She spit at the floor for good measure. “—bastard’s castaway?”
“She’s not a castaway,” he said. “She’s a widow. A woman worthy of respect. If anything, she is granting you a great honor in willing to humble herself as your daughter-in-law. If she remained a widow, her name would be carved on the temple gates and young wives would be forced to make offerings to her day and night. I’ll not dishonor her by making her a concubine. And you will treat her kindly when she comes here. Am I clear?”
“Fine!” his mother said, standing up quickly. Too quickly on her bound feet. She squinted but showed no other sign of pain all the children knew she felt but were too polite to comment on. Daiyu and Biyu grimaced in sympathy. “But bring me the approval for marriage from Prince Kung. I’ll scrape and bow to Lady Li no further until I know this marriage is even going to happen.” She turned and walked with her back straight. She wou
ld have stomped had it been possible, but she slammed the sliding door shut behind her instead.
“That was poorly done, brother,” Zhuang said as soon as their mother was gone but probably still within earshot. They all knew that her hearing her other children defend her would go a long way toward soothing her bruised ego. “She’s not entirely wrong about this marriage raising eyebrows in the community.”
“What would it even be like having a Manchu in the family?” Biyu wondered. “Will you have to bow to her every morning, brother? Will she let you bind your daughters’ feet?”
He didn’t respond because he hadn’t actually thought about what it would be like marrying a woman from a different ethnic group.
“Mothers bind their daughters’ feet,” Daiyu said. “If Swan’s feet aren’t bound, she obviously won’t bind her daughters’ feet, even if her daughters are Han. She won’t know how. She won’t see the value in it.”
“I hadn’t even considered that,” Biyu said, shaking her head. “No wonder Ma is so against this marriage.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Inspector Gong asked, even though at this point he was only picking at his food, having lost his appetite. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He just wanted to wed and bed Swan so he could stop thinking about Lady Li all the time.
“Like murder?” Daiyu asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“Shit,” Inspector Gong sighed, at this point simply dropping his spoon into his bowl. He had hoped she had forgotten about that. “No, I am not talking to you about the murder at the opera last night.”
“Come on!” she begged, pulling on his sleeve. “Tell me! I was so sad I had to miss the show last night.”
“What are you doing going to the opera?” Inspector Gong asked, raising his eyebrow. “Does Ma know about this?”
“She just looks the other way,” Daiyu said. “It’s harmless fun. And all the girls go. Fanhua is just so gorgeous. If our parents forbade us from going, we’d just sneak out.”
“What are you talking about?” the inspector asked, confused. “What girls? And you think Fanhua is good looking? He looks like a girl.”
“That’s the appeal, apparently,” Zhuang said as he helped his own little daughter hold her chopsticks. “According to my wife, young unmarried girls are drawn to effeminate men.”
The inspector turned to Daiyu. “Is this true? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Daiyu said. “I’m not allowed to talk to any real boys, so Fanhua is just…safe, I guess.”
Inspector Gong nodded. Unmarried girls were carefully guarded, rarely let out of the house for any reason other than attending temple or visiting the daughters of other noble families. Daiyu was only sixteen, and Biyu fifteen. They were of marriageable age, yet probably still too young to know what they would actually like in a man. Not that it mattered. If they wanted tall burley men or thin, scholarly ones, they wouldn’t have a choice in who they married. He wondered if their mother had been making arrangements for them. It was strange he hadn’t heard anything about a marriage for Daiyu at least.
“So who died?” Biyu asked. “Was it Wangshu? I heard that lots of Fanhua’s admirers hate her.”
“No, it wasn’t Wangshu, surprisingly,” the inspector said.
“So who was it?” Daiyu asked. “Tell me. Was it someone in the audience?”
The inspector paused for a moment. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but Daiyu knew a surprising amount about the theater and Fanhua, more than he ever would have. Maybe she could tell him something about Fanhua’s admirers that would be useful.
“It was Fanhua,” he finally said. “Fanhua is dead.”
Daiyu blinked. Then she sat back. “You…you’re lying,” she said. “You’re teasing me because you know I like him. You’re such a jerk!”
“I’m not lying, Daiyu,” he said seriously. “Fanhua was killed last night.”
He watched as all the color drained from her face and tears welled up in her eyes and then spilled down her cheeks. “No! No! This can’t be true!”
Biyu patted her sister’s back to comfort her. “Oh, Daiyu, I’m so sorry!”
“Good job, Anguo,” Zhuang said as his daughter started fussing and he stood to take her from the room.
“What?” Inspector Gong asked. “What is happening here? Why are you so upset, Daiyu? He’s just an actor.”
“Just an actor?” Daiyu asked as she rubbed her eyes with her sleeves. “He’s just the most beautiful actor. The sweetest, kindest, most gentle person.”
“What the hell do you know about what kind of person he is?” the inspector asked. “You shouldn’t be getting so close to him. He might play a woman, but he’s still a man. You should think about your reputation!”
“You’re one to talk, Manchu lover!” she yelled as she stood and tottered out of the room on her bound feet, Biyu stumbling away behind her.
Inspector Gong ran his hands down his face. “What did I do to deserve this?” he asked the kitchen god over the doorway.
While his sister’s reaction irked him—there was no way she should have had such an emotional reaction to a man she wasn’t betrothed to—it did give him some insight into just how popular Fanhua was with young women. Would Daiyu’s reaction ripple throughout the theater community? What was the relationship between Fanhua and the women? Did they think they were in love with him? Or that he was in love with them? Was he the sort of person who would lead a woman along?
He needed to look into this deeper. He also needed to return to the theater to learn more about the rest of the opera troupe.
He gathered his things and was about to leave the house when a servant approached with a note.
It was a summons from Lady Li, asking him to come to her mansion immediately. He cursed again. If Lady Li was sending for him, it could only be bad news.
9
Lady Li gasped when she opened her eyes. She didn’t mean to fall asleep. She couldn’t have been out long. She turned to find Swan sleeping soundly, so she sighed in relief. She stood up and rubbed her neck and back. The chair had been a terrible place to try and rest.
Eunuch Bai walked in and handed her a cup of pu’er tea.
“You didn’t bother trying to sleep at all, did you?” Lady Li asked as she took the cup and breathed in the earthy aroma as she walked to the door and looked out over the garden.
He stood next to her. “I don’t think anyone did except for your daughters and mother-in-law.”
“I am glad that Swan did not disturb Popo,” Lady Li said, blowing on her tea. “She needs her rest.”
“Popo’s health has greatly improved since coming to live here,” Eunuch Bai said. “Loneliness can be its own illness.”
“At least I’ve been able to do right by one person,” Lady Li said. She watched as the servants went about their business now that their mistress was awake. One person swept the walkways while another skimmed debris from the koi pond. Another servant entered the front gate with a brace of live ducks over his shoulder.
“You have done right by all your people,” Eunuch Bai comforted. “You cannot blame yourself for Swan’s misery and her poor way of coping. You did not make her a widow or introduce her to opium. Who could have known that things would turn out like this?”
Lady Li nodded. She knew he was right and there was no point in arguing. But as lady of the manor everything that happened within its walls was her responsibility, so she couldn’t shake the feelings of guilt that settled upon her whenever she thought of Swan.
She sat on the edge of Swan’s bed and wetted a cloth, which she wiped over Swan’s brow.
“I want you to send for Inspector Gong,” Lady Li said. “He will be preoccupied with the murder at the opera, but he must see to his domestic responsibilities as well.”
Eunuch Bai tried not to laugh. “I am sure the thought of him suddenly having domestic responsibilities will come as a shock to him.”
“Good,” Lady Li said. “Let h
im learn what he is really getting into.”
“I’ll send him a note at once,” he said.
“Wait a little while,” Lady Li said. “It is still early. Let him rest a bit longer.”
“And what about you, my lady?” Eunuch Bai asked. “As you can see, Swan is fine, for now. Why don’t you lay down? I can fetch you if there is any change.”
Lady Li was tired, exhausted actually, but her mind was alert. Now that she didn’t need to worry about Swan, her thoughts returned to the murder of Fanhua and the strange girls she met outside the theater.
“No,” she said. “There is something I need to do.”
* * *
Even though it was early, it was not too early to make a social call. Women were often expected to wake with the first light and begin the business of running their household, though Lady Li doubted much was required of Baoah if she was able to sneak off in the evenings to attend opera performances.
She rode in her sedan chair to the Liu family compound. Lady Li’s home was a mansion, but it was still rather on the small side compared to the home she now stood in front of.
In Chinese families, first sons were not the only beneficiaries of an inheritance. All sons usually divided a family’s assets upon the death of a patriarch—and that included the family home. But since a home could not be cut up and moved, most sons never left their family home, but instead stayed there along with their wives and children, and eventually their grandsons and their families. If a family had land, the home could be expanded to accommodate the growing family, with more buildings and rooms added on as needed, but they would still get crowded. Usually it would take a break in the family relationship—a sibling rivalry between brothers or a competition between sisters-in-law too great to overcome—that would result in some members of the family finally moving out and establishing their own residences. From the looks of things, the Liu family had not had any disruptions for a very long time. The main wall was a whole block long, and the many layers of roofs could be seen even from the street level as the house encroached on and then took over the hill behind it.
Murder at the Peking Opera Page 7