As Lady Li knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer, she thought about just how small her family was in comparison—and how it would be even smaller as soon as Swan left her. While she treasured her solitude most of the time, she did often miss the loud, happy home she grew up in, with many brothers, mothers, and aunts surrounding her. She wondered if her own daughters were missing something in their life by growing up so isolated.
A male servant answered the door, and Lady Li explained that she was a friend of Baoah. He let her inside, and she followed him down long passageways, up a stone incline, and past several large doors before finally knocking on one.
“Baobao,” the man called. “You have a guest.”
Lady Li heard some rather unladylike cursing from inside the room as Baoah stumbled toward the door. The door squeaked open, and Baoah squinted in the daylight that dared to shine upon her unwashed face.
“What?” Baoah mumbled. “Who is it?”
“We met last night,” Lady Li said. “At the opera. Do you remember?”
“Huh? Oh, right,” Baoah said, backing up and opening the door a little wider. “Sure, come in. What do you want?”
Lady Li cocked an eyebrow at the servant, who shook his head in shame as he walked away, and entered the room.
“I hope you will forgive the early call,” she said.
Baoah went over to the other side of the room and pulled some drapes back from a large latticed window to let some more light in. She then moved a kettle over a fireplace.
“It’s nothing,” Baoah said.
“I just couldn’t sleep after the performance last night,” Lady Li said. “It was just so exciting. Especially Fanhua. I was hoping you could tell me more about him. Maybe tell me how I could meet him.”
“Meet him?” Baoah said, her eyes wide as if she were suddenly wide awake.
“Yes,” Lady Li said innocently. “You said you were his friend. I thought you might be able to arrange something.”
“Oh, right,” Baoah said. “Well, everything is up in the air right now, you know. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?” Lady Li asked, playing dumb. She took a seat on a bench near the fireplace.
“With Wangshu playing his role,” Baoah said. “I have his schedule here.” She rummaged through a stack of papers on a nearby table that looked like performance programs.
Lady Li stepped over to have a look and found the program from the performance last night along with several other programs, some dating from years ago.
“Careful with those,” Baoah said, taking them from Lady Li and carefully putting them back in a pile. “Some of those are nearly falling apart.”
“You see a lot of operas,” Lady Li remarked. “You must have such an appreciation for the art.”
Baoah handed a paper with performance names and times on it. “Not really,” she said. “I just love Fanhua. I’ve seen every show he’s ever been in. That was his schedule for the month when he was still playing the dan, but now, who knows when he’ll be performing, or what part he’ll even be playing.” She removed the kettle from the fireplace and poured the hot water into two cups that were sitting nearby. She then sprinkled some tea leaves into the cups and handed one to Lady Li.
Lady Li took the cup and had a small sip even though she wondered how long it had been since the cup had been cleaned. She turned around, taking in the messy room. She saw an opera mask hanging on the wall.
“That’s an interesting piece,” Lady Li said.
“Yeah,” Baoah said. “Most opera performers don’t wear masks anymore. They just paint their faces. But Fanhua wore that in Peach Tree Dreams. He was brilliant in it. But he always is.”
“And he gave you the mask?” Lady Li asked. “That was quite generous of him.”
“He might not have seen me slip it into my sleeve,” Baoah said with a naughty smile.
Lady Li made a face like she was shocked—which she was—then she laughed, hoping to make Baoah think she approved of her petty theft, which might not have been so petty considering how expensive opera costume pieces could be.
“I have quite a few pieces I’ve pinched from him over the years,” Baoah said. She opened a drawer and pulled out a few treasures. “This is a handkerchief he used when he played Madam Butterfly. This is a fan he carried as one of the daughters in Blue Eyes, Blue Sorrow. And this is my pride and joy.” She walked over and pulled a long lance out from behind her kang. “He used this in The Generals of the Yang Family.”
Lady Li felt a lump in her throat at seeing the weapon in the girl’s hand, even though she knew the murder weapon had been a sword. “How...how did you steal that without Fanhua knowing,” Lady Li finally managed to ask.
“That’s my little secret,” Baoah said before putting it back in its hiding place.
“Well, how about telling me why you would steal his things at all?” Lady Li asked.
Baoah cocked her head to the side like it was no big deal. “I don’t know. All of us, his admirers, we all collect little things he’s used and touched. Helps feel close to him I guess.”
“I see,” Lady Li said. “Like a lock of hair from a lover.”
“Exactly,” Baoah said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a lock of his hair, would you?”
“Thankfully no,” Lady Li said. “You don’t think anyone would hurt poor Fanhua trying to get a piece of him, do you?”
“What?” Baoah asked with an awkward giggle. “Hurt him? We love him and only want to protect him.”
“Of course,” Lady Li said. “Do you follow any other opera performers? The Lord of Hell, perhaps?”
“That old goat?” Baoah sputtered a laugh. “That whole troupe only has an audience because of Fanhua. There is no one else at that theater worth seeing.”
“There must be other performers out there worthy of admiration,” Lady Li prodded. “Since we don’t know Fanhua’s schedule, who else should I go see?”
“The only other person with nearly as large a following would be Huangjian,” Baoah said. “He is with the Xishan Szechuan group. He’s a face changer.”
Lady Li nodded. She had seen face changing opera before, but it had been a while. It was quite fascinating to watch.
“Do you have some of his stolen items around here too?” Lady Li asked conspiratorially.
“No, I don’t follow him myself,” Baoah said. “He plays a man. What’s beautiful about that?”
“What’s wrong with him playing a man?” Lady Li asked. “He is one, just like Fanhua.”
“But he doesn’t understand us,” Baoah said. “He doesn’t know what we go through, how we are treated. How our feet hurt and the pain we feel at being ripped from our families.”
Lady Li nodded as she began to understand. Baoah wasn’t in love with Fanhua because he dressed like a woman, but because she believed he was the only man who could understand what it was like to be a woman. That was just another illusion, though.
Lady Li wondered if Fanhua was just as good of an actor off stage as on it. After all, he didn’t really know what it was to be a woman. He only played a part, and at the end of the day he could take off his shoes and remove his face paint and return to the world of men. But he had been able to convince his admirers that he truly understood them. That he practically was one of them. They trusted him because of that. They loved him.
Had he betrayed that trust, that love? Had one of his admirers killed him because of it?
Lady Li had no idea, and she wouldn’t know where to start finding out. Who knew how many followers like Baoah Fanhua had.
Lady Li stood to leave. “Well, I’m sure I have taken up enough of your morning. I should be going. But if you find out when Fanhua is performing again, do let me know.” She wondered if it was cruel of her to continue letting the girl think the object of her obsession was still alive, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her that Fanhua was really dead.
Lady Li decided to take her leave. �
�Thank you for receiving me this morning,” she said with a polite nod of her head. “I hope to see you at another performance again soon.”
As she climbed back into her sedan chair, exhaustion once again climbed over her. The excitement of calling on Baoah wore off, and she was beginning to regret that she had sent for Inspector Gong. She only wanted to return home and rest.
* * *
“What have you done?” she yelled at her girls as soon as she entered the gate.
The girls had both gotten into her closet and pulled out some of her nicest robes. They had put on batou headdresses and seemed to have attached every piece of jewelry she owned to them. They had also painted each other’s faces with bright red lips and blue eyes and white cheeks with makeup from Lady Li’s dressing table. They were running around, chasing each other with sticks and singing the songs from the opera they had heard the night before.
“I’m an opera singer!” Second Daughter triumphantly yelled, waving her stick in the air.
“But you are running my clothes and losing my jewels!” Lady Li snapped as she gripped both her daughters by the arms and led them back toward the living quarters. “Where is your nursemaid? Or Eunuch Bai? Or Popo?” she asked.
But she soon found out. Swan had awoken and was hunched over a chamber pot dry heaving since she had nothing in her stomach to evacuate. She was also feverish yet freezing, trying to pull a blanket over her shoulders as she leaned over the bowl. The whole of the household staff appeared to be trying either to comfort Swan or fighting over the best course of treatment for her. Popo thought Swan should be given a warm bath while a maid thought she needed some medicinal tea. The cook was trying to figure out who needed breakfast while Eunuch Bai was trying to clean up the mess Swan must have made when she had woken up.
“Quiet!” Lady Li yelled over the cacophony, and everyone silenced save Swan’s simpering. “Popo, please take the girls. Clean them up and serve them breakfast. Lingling, go to the yard and find any jewels the girls may have lost before the chickens eat them, then see if you can salvage my robes the girls are wearing. Xiaoting, clean this room. I will see to Swan. Eunuch Bai, please see to anything else I have missed.”
“Yes, mistress,” everyone said in unison with a bow.
It didn’t matter how tired she was, her job was never done. She grabbed a basin of warm water and a cloth and kneeled by Swan’s side. She brushed Swan’s hair aside and washed her face with the cloth.
“What…what is happening to me?” Swan cried.
“Don’t you remember?” Lady Li asked.
“I never remember,” Swan said. “That’s the whole point. I know I shouldn’t keep taking the opium, but for some reason, I do. And when I wake up, I don’t remember why I did it. How did I talk myself into it? How can I stop myself next time?” She coughed and leaned back over the bowl.
Lady Li rubbed her back and soothed her.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But we are going to find a doctor who can help you.”
“I don’t know if I can be helped,” Swan said, shaking her head. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Lady Li wasn’t sure how to respond. She knew nothing of what Swan was going through. But she would do whatever it took to help her get well. She went to Swan’s closet and found her some fresh clothes to wear. She helped her change and put her back into bed.
“I’ll have cook bring you some hot broth,” Lady Li said, tucking her in as she continued to shudder.
“Hello?” a voice called into the room.
Lady Li shot up and turned around, shocked to see Inspector Gong standing there.
“What are you doing?” she asked, rushing to the door to keep him from seeing Swan in her current state.
He backed out of the room to the courtyard. “I received your summons,” he said. “But no one answered when I knocked at the gate, but it wasn’t locked. Is something wrong?”
Lady Li sighed and motioned for him to follow her to the study. She must not have closed the gate properly when she came home, she was so shocked by the scene of her daughters running wild like monkeys.
“It has been…an eventful few hours,” Lady Li said. “I have no idea where my servants even are right now. Forgive me for not having any hot water for tea right now.”
“It’s no bother,” he said and turned her to face him. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders, and she felt a calming warmth rush through her body. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It is Swan,” she said. “She is in desperate need of a doctor to help her with her opium addiction.”
He frowned, but the nodded slowly. “What happened?”
“She had a large stash of opium hidden in her room,” Lady Li explained. “But she doesn’t remember taking it. She doesn’t know how to stop even though she wants to. Eunuch Bai said there are doctors who can treat her, but we must proceed with discretion. Should your mother find out…”
“I know,” he interrupted, releasing her and rubbing his chin. “I know someone I can trust. I’ll send him over immediately.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Swan says that she—”
“You don’t need to worry,” Inspector Gong interrupted, stepping close to her and touching the side of her face. “I’ll take care of everything.”
She felt a shiver run from his fingers all the way down her spine. She remembered that only a few days before, they had made love like animals in this very room. Was he remembering that as well? As she looked up into his eyes and saw a hunger there, she thought that he must be. But that was before they had agreed he needed to marry Swan. Before he became a betrothed man. Before she had met with Swan's future in-laws.
Swan had been a dear friend to her for years. Someone she loved like a sister. Her face went hot with shame for the desire she felt for Swan’s future husband.
She pulled her eyes away from his and stepped back.
“Thank you,” she mumbled again. “Forgive me, but I am exhausted.”
He did not pursue her but respected her excuse to put distance between them.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll send for the doctor soon. Was there anything else?”
“No,” she said, but then remembered her visit with Baoah. “Wait, yes. I met someone, a woman who was obsessed with Fanhua.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Outside the theater as I was leaving last night,” she said. “There must have been a dozen young ladies there hoping to catch a glimpse of him.”
“I have heard that he was quite popular with the female patrons,” he said. “Do you think one of these women might have had cause to harm him?”
“The young lady I met, Baoah,” Lady Li said, “seemed to think not. She said they loved him. But I don’t know. Many people kill those they love. If he betrayed one of the girls, or acted dishonorably in some way, it’s possible.”
“Indeed,” the inspector said. “But who are these girls, and how would I contact them?”
“I don’t know,” Lady Li said, shaking her head, which now felt foggy. “You are right. It is too vague of an idea for now. I need more information. But she did mention another actor. She called him Hungjian. He is with the Xishan Szechuan Opera Troupe. She said he was also popular with women. Maybe they had a professional rivalry or something.”
“I’ll look into it,” he said. He then made a move like he was going to step closer to her again, but then he stopped himself. “Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of right now,” she said.
They both stood there in an awkward silence for several moments before he finally gave a small bow and took his leave.
Lady Li sunk into a chair and felt faint. She didn’t think it was because she was tired or hungry, but because a single look from Inspector Gong had the ability to render her completely powerless.
10
After Inspector Gong left Lady Li, he lingered outside her mansion gate for a moment. He wasn’t sure why. He had things to do and the
re was nothing left to say to Lady Li, yet he couldn’t seem to pull himself away. She drove him to distraction, where nothing else seemed to matter.
He finally remembered that he needed to go see Dr. Xue, both about Fanhua and Swan’s opium addiction. He admitted that her addiction was a problem, but he wasn’t sure if it would be worse for him if his mother found out before or after he married the girl. If his mother found out before, she would never approve the union. But if she found out after, she would never forgive him and would make Swan’s life a living hell.
She would be right to do so, though, he had to admit. After all, what kind of a wife would Swan be if she was always in the clouds? She couldn’t be a good mother in that state. But if Dr. Xue could cure her, everything would be fine, right?
He knew it wouldn’t be. He was making a huge mistake. But he couldn’t back out now. Lady Li expected him to marry Swan. He couldn’t disappoint her. Though, he doubted Lady Li truly wanted him to marry Swan. She wanted him. And it wasn’t simply his overinflated opinion of himself that told him so. He could tell, even now, even after she refused to let him kiss or touch her, it was just as painful for her to push him away as it was for him to leave her. But what could they do? There was no way they could be together. It just wasn’t possible…
Somehow, Inspector Gong found himself at Dr. Xue’s shop, the scents of herbal medicines and dried sea creatures snapping him out of his thoughts before he was even standing in front of it. He stepped into the shop to find Dr. Xue talking to a male customer.
“What you need is ginko,” Dr. Xue was telling the man. “These leaves here, they are already dried, so I’ll grind them up for you, are from a tree in the north. An old, strong tree. Four thousand years old! You want your branch to be as thick and strong as that tree?” Dr. Xue and the man laughed as Dr. Xue put the leaves into a mortar and ground them up into a fine powder, which he then poured into a paper sachet.
Murder at the Peking Opera Page 8