Читать книгу The Lotus Palace - Jeannie Lin, Jeannie Lin - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCHAPTER FIVE
THE DEALER LIFTED the clay tumbler over his head and shook it while he chanted in a singsong: “Here, here, bet high, bet low.”
The final wagers were placed onto the table as the dice rattled around inside the tumbler. With a flourish, the dealer set the dish down, paused dramatically, then lifted the lid to reveal the numbers. The result was met with a few cheers, more groans, some curses.
Huang swiped a hand over his forehead and stared at the candle flickering on the table behind the dealer. It was an oven in here tonight and he was having a tough time of it. A runner came by offering a cup filled with what would have been called water if not for the few flecks of tea floating in it. He waved the boy away in irritation.
“It must be a lucky night for you, Lord Bai.”
Wu Kaifeng came up alongside him just as the dealer shoved a pile of coins in front of him. Huang stared at the cash warily before pushing it all back onto the table beside the character for “Low”.
He pasted on a smile before turning to the constable. “So it seems. Let’s see if it continues.”
Occasionally someone he knew from the Pingkang li would come into the gambling den, but he had no desire to hold up appearances tonight. He glanced once again at the candle. There was only a stub left.
Sometimes he lost quickly and would simply get up and leave. Those were the rules. But sometimes he won, and those were the hardest nights of all.
“Do you play, Constable?”
Though Wu stood at the table, he had yet to take out any money. He looked over the painted characters on the table, each representing a wager, and then over to the three dice inside the clay bowl. The dealer shrank back as Wu’s gaze raked over him.
“No,” he replied after an uncomfortably long delay.
It was rare to meet someone with such a disconnected sense of social politeness. Though his words and gestures were not incorrect, they always came a touch too late or off-rhythm, as if he had to think of things others took as natural.
“It’s quite easy,” Huang said. “You put your coins down on the table and they take them away.”
“All bets in!”
The dealer set the bowl down and lifted the tumbler to a general outcry. The total was high this time and Huang’s wager disappeared. Another round started promptly after.
“I could never see the appeal of gambling,” Wu said. “Too much uncertainty.”
The problem was Huang liked the unpredictability. He liked the guessing and wagering and not knowing. No, it was incorrect to say he liked any of it. That implied there was some enjoyment or pleasure involved. He supposed there had been, at one time. Now he knew that he didn’t just like the risk, he needed it. It was never about the money.
Tonight, the battle had been especially hard. With a new Emperor on the throne and Huilan’s recent death, there was too much cluttering his mind. A night of diversion at the tables was very tempting. Unfortunately, Huang knew it was impossible to play only a few rounds to take his mind off things. He always followed a strict, unbending regimen he’d set for himself.
Wu looked around the dimly lit room. “So this is where you go on nights you don’t spend drinking.”
Obviously, the constable had come here to investigate him and couldn’t be bothered with subtlety.
Huang affected a grin. “I’ll drink tonight as well.”
Wu was not amused. “You play the third night of every week.”
His smile faltered a little. “A good night for it.”
“And always from the eleventh hour to the twelfth,” Wu continued. “Always this table. Exactly a thousand copper coins.”
The dealer cast a glance toward Wu before he began hawking out the next round.
Huang shrugged, though the room seemed to have gotten hotter. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck. “Gamblers and their superstitions, you know.”
Wu nodded, but there was very little in the way of camaraderie in it. “It must be working tonight. You look to have nearly three times that in front of you.”
“More wagers? Bet now!” the dealer crowed.
The candle had melted down to a pool of wax.
Huang pushed the entire stack of coins over the square marked “Triple”.
Wu’s eyes narrowed on him. “I may not be knowledgeable about this game, but I would assume that is a highly unlikely outcome.”
At least he’d managed to surprise the demon. “If the dice are with me, I’ll be a wealthy man,” Huang replied with a grin.
“You are already wealthy, Lord Bai.”
They listened to the rattle of the dice. As the tumbler was set on the table, Huang felt that familiar rush, the boiling of his blood as he waited to see the result. Exquisite anticipation. Nothing else in the world felt as good as this. Not good wine, good food. Not even a beautiful woman. At moments like this, he knew he would never be free of this urge.
The dealer lifted the top off the bowl and Huang’s heart almost stopped. Two fives and a three. He didn’t want to think what he would have done if that last die had landed another five instead of the three.
There was nothing left but the wick on the candle. He turned as the dealer raked back all of his winnings of the past hour, leaving Constable Wu at the table to form whatever conclusions he chose.
* * *
YUE-YING SPENT THE next few days preparing Mingyu for an upcoming journey. General Deng was Mingyu’s most prestigious patron. He had held a position in the capital before being transferred to Guangdong province where he currently served as military governor. Whenever he returned to Changan, Mingyu pushed all other engagements aside to see to him.
“The general will be sending an escort for me,” Mingyu had told her. “We will be traveling to the nearby hot springs. There is no need for you to accompany me.”
Yue-ying ignored the abrupt dismissal and started packing a trunk with all the necessary clothing and personal items Mingyu would need. She made sure to include all the jewels and trinkets the military governor had gifted to Mingyu.
This wasn’t the first time Mingyu had left her for such an assignation. It was publicly known that she and General Deng were lovers. Yue-ying could understand why Mingyu desired privacy during their time together. Perhaps Mingyu held deeper feelings for the governor than she admitted.
Once Mingyu was gone, Yue-ying was left with more idle time than she was accustomed to and no one to pass it with. Over the years, she had become friendly with the other courtesans in the pleasure house, but none of them were close. Mingyu was the only courtesan who had a personal attendant, which put Yue-ying in a unique position at the Lotus Palace. It also kept her apart from the others.
To remain busy, she set about sorting the rest of the clothing and accessories, bringing out the lighter garments from storage in preparation for the hottest part of the summer season. A pile was started for items that needed mending or other repairs. When she was arranging Mingyu’s slippers, she found a pair tossed in the bottom of a trunk. The embroidered pattern had been splattered with mud.
With a sigh, she took a damp rag to it. Mingyu was so careless sometimes. Such beautiful and luxurious items held little value to her.
A knock came from the outer chamber, interrupting her task.
“Miss Yue-ying?” a familiar voice called out.
She shot to her feet. Lord Bai stepped into the parlor just as she poked her head out from the dressing room. The slipper was still clutched in her hand.
“That’s not to throw at me, is it?” he asked, his lips quirking.
Bai Huang was a suspect in Huilan’s murder, but Constable Wu didn’t have any strong evidence. Wu had also warned her Bai Huang was hiding something, but he wasn’t a violent man...yet when he’d cornered her in the cellar, he’d certainly appeared menacing.
She had been staring at him for too long while she weighed the arguments. “Lady Mingyu is not here.”
“I know. I came here to see you.”
For a moment, she considered telling him to go away and shouting for help if he refused, but Madame would think she had gone mad. Bai Huang was a frequent and generous customer.
“Were you at the Hundred Songs the night of the festival?” she asked, edging closer to a ceramic vase on an end table.
“I was here. Don’t you remember?”
“Before you came to the Lotus.”
She glared at him, her irritation rising. She supposed it benefited him somehow to adopt the persona of the fool, otherwise why would he do it so often and with so much enthusiasm?
“I wasn’t at the Hundred Songs. I swear on my grave.”
“Why did you tell Magistrate Li you were with me?” she demanded
He looked confused. “Because I was with you?”
“Not in the way you implied.”
“I said that I was delightfully delayed by—” he paused to recall the exact words “—a charming young lady.”
“Delayed?” she asked through her teeth. “Delightfully?”
The dog. She dropped the slipper and took hold of the vase.
A light dawned in his eyes. “You think I murdered Huilan?” he asked incredulously. “Do you truly believe I’m capable of doing such a horrible thing? And to someone as gentle and kind as Huilan. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I don’t believe you killed her.” She kept the vase between them. “But I don’t think you’ve been completely truthful.”
“I am trying to find whoever did this and bring him to justice,” he insisted. “I came here to ask your help on that very matter.”
“Why would you need my help?”
He eyed the vase in her grasp. “Shall we discuss this over tea?”
She was overanxious. Constable Wu might be right that she didn’t know many killers, but she had known men who were capable of it. She remembered a brothel owner who had beaten one girl to death and was only forced to pay a fine for the crime, the ruling being that he hadn’t intended to kill her. She knew in her gut Bai Huang wasn’t like that.
She set the would-be weapon down and went to light the tea stove. He sat out in the parlor as she worked. Peering out from the screen, she saw him running his hands back and forth over his knees, standing, then sitting again and looking around as if to search for some possible inspiration to start a conversation. It was disarming to see him like this, so uncertain.
Lord Bai Huang probably expected tea to miraculously appear when he asked for it, with no extra effort or delay. Once she had the fire started in the stove, she ladled water into the pot and set it on top. With nothing to do but wait, she returned to the parlor and seated herself. It was unusual to be sitting across from a gentleman, eye to eye.
“Why do you need my help?” she asked again.
“You’re familiar with the quarter. People know you and trust you.” He paused, looking at her intently. “And you have a good heart.”
She fidgeted. “I don’t understand why you can’t let the magistrate handle things.”
By now, she was certain Bai Huang wasn’t half the fool he presented in public, but she still didn’t think he was more qualified than Magistrate Li and his constables.
“First, the pompous Li Yen and the evil-eyed Wu Kaifeng are new to the city. People don’t trust them. They won’t be able to act as quickly as you and I. Second, Magistrate Li has his own agenda. I don’t trust him. And third—”
He paused for a long while on the last point. His dark eyebrows folded into a frown.
“Third, I swore to Huilan I would help her. I owe this debt to her.”
He looked away. Yue-ying stood and returned to the stove to allow him his privacy. Had he been in love with Huilan? She was the sort of woman that would inspire such devotion in a man. And Bai Huang had shown himself to be the romantic sort.
She scooped tea leaves into two cups and poured the hot water over them, covering the cups with a lid to let the tea steep. Bai Huang sat wordlessly as she set his cup before him. They took a few sips and he seemed to relax, though she remained anxious. It wasn’t her place to have tea with gentlemen. Suddenly she was aware of her posture and the placement of her hands and feet, knowing everything must be all wrong.
Their eyes met and an odd sensation traveled up her spine. They both spoke at once.
“About the other night—”
“We don’t need to speak of it—”
Silence. Again a look between them that left her so confused, more so than his kiss had done. That kiss was forced upon her and there had been no finesse to it. Not even the barest attempt to seduce her into enjoying it. She absolutely would not apologize for the scratch that still marred his perfect face. He deserved it. But the Bai Huang she was looking at now seemed an entirely different man.
He smiled crookedly at her. “I know I’m a scoundrel sometimes.”
His tone was unexpectedly intimate. Heat rose up her neck until her face burned hot.
“What exactly did you need me to do?” she asked, noting to herself that she hadn’t yet agreed to help.
“Madame Lui gave me a list of everyone who was at the Hundred Songs that night. Also any patron who has come calling on Huilan. She spoke to the magistrate as well, but I believe she wasn’t nearly as forthcoming with him.”
With a smug look, Bai Huang pulled out a paper from beneath the fold of his hanfu robe and held it out to her. Yue-ying hesitated before taking it from him. She could only read a little, having memorized the few characters needed for her daily activities. She could write her own name and some basic numbers and read the signboards in the market, but little else.
The characters swam before her eyes, but she was too ashamed to admit that she couldn’t make any sense of them. “What do you intend to do with these names?”
“We go through them and look for anyone suspicious. You know everyone in the North Hamlet.”
“Only the people who come to the Lotus Palace,” she protested. “And not much more than their names and faces.”
He made an impatient sound. “You’re just being humble because etiquette demands it. Between you and me, I would wager we can account for every name here.”
Bai Huang took the paper from her and asked for a writing brush. As she went back into Mingyu’s chamber to retrieve the case from her desk, he recounted what he knew about that night, speaking loud enough to be heard from the parlor.
“The Hundred Songs hosted a banquet for prestigious patrons. The guest of honor was an imperial scholar who just received an appointment to the Ministry of Revenue. Huilan was there to receive the visitors and entertain them with song. Just before the eleventh hour, she retired momentarily to her room. That was the last time anyone saw her.”
The fine hairs along her arms rose upon hearing the story. The events were still so recent in memory. Yue-ying returned to the parlor and set the wooden writing box before him along with a sheet of paper.
“If it was like the banquet here at the Lotus Palace, people would have been coming and going all night. It would be impossible to track where everyone was at all times,” she told him.
“We have to consider everyone a suspect, then.”
Bai Huang folded back the drape of his sleeve in two crisp movements, exposing forearms that appeared surprisingly strong. She watched with fascination as he opened the case and prepared the ink as if it were a ritual he had done a thousand times. He selected the smallest brush and dipped it into the ink. Then he started reading names off the list, copying each one onto the fresh sheet with a practiced, steady hand.
There was something compelling about seeing Bai Huang so focused. His brow was creased with concentration and the lines of his profile hardened with determination. He looked nothing like the pleasure-seeking flower prince they all so loved to chuckle about.
“Fa Zhenggang. I don’t know him,” he said.
“He’s a painter who lives to the south of the market.”
“Ah.” Bai Huang looked satisfied as he marked down the detail.
They continued methodically down the list, which had nearly twenty names on it.
“Ma Jun. That name sounds familiar. He’s the head of the East Market Commission office,” Bai Huang noted.
“It’s also well-known that Huilan was a favorite of his,” she pointed out.
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “Well-known to the quarter, at least.”
He looked down at the columns of names and sucked in a deep breath. Each name held its own web of connections and secrets. Suddenly the task appeared daunting.
“Let’s continue.” He took a moment to shrug out the stiffness in his shoulders before dipping his brush again.
She wasn’t yet certain Bai Huang’s plan was the best approach, but she was touched someone like him would be concerned with the misfortunes of one lone courtesan within the North Hamlet. She had assumed the women of the Pingkang li were nothing but diversions to men like him, their names and graces interchangeable. This one was a graceful flower or a precious gem, noted for playing the pipa or being an elegant dancer.
“Lord Bai?”
He looked up with the brush still poised over the paper.
“Were you and Huilan...” she took a breath as she searched for a word that wasn’t too improper “...close?”
“Close?”
He was making this deliberately difficult for her.
“Intimate,” she amended.
He regarded her for a moment before answering. His look was one of complete seriousness. “No.”
Yue-ying didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. There was so much she didn’t know about him. “Magistrate Li and Constable Wu suspect that you were.”
“I know this.”
“I told Constable Wu that I saw Huilan meeting a young man on the day of the earthquake. They were on the bridge by the temple. From where I was, he could have been anyone.”
“It wasn’t me,” he insisted, seeing the look in her eye. “I’ve only ever spoken to Huilan in public or at the Hundred Songs.”
She tried hard to recall more clearly. The man’s robe had been blue-gray in color without any additional accents. It was the robe of a scholar. Certainly she’d never seen Bai Huang dressed so simply.
“I apologize for my boldness, Lord Bai,” she told him. “I didn’t mean to sound so—”
“Intimate?” he finished for her, eyes dancing.
She didn’t realize her face could heat so quickly. Best to stop talking. She tucked her hair behind her ear, thought about it, then untucked it in the next moment.
It wasn’t as if she’d asked if they were involved out of jealousy. She had nothing to be jealous about. Even though he had attempted to kiss her—and it was really nothing more than an awkward attempt—this was Lord Bai, who spouted bland poetry about eyes and lips and graceful willowy figures. She wondered what comparison he would conjure were he to compose poetry about her.
What had come over her? The boundaries of this conversation had completely slipped away from her. She wasn’t seeking a lover and, if she were, Lord Bai would be the least likely of suitors.
Thankfully, Bai Huang turned back to the list, with her adding small touches based on what was known in the North Hamlet. By the end of the next hour, they had three sheets of paper spread out on the table.
“It could be any of these men.” He sighed.
“Or it could be none of them.”
He glanced up at her, irritated because she’d spoken the truth. Then he looked back at the sheets, lifting them into the air to dry while he studied the characters. Carefully, he folded up the pages and tucked them into his robe.
“You said Huilan was acting oddly at the temple,” he said. “Let’s start there.”
* * *
THE TEMPLE COURTYARD was empty that morning and the old tortoise was out of his lair once more, asleep beneath the shade of a rock. The altar room was open for worshippers to come and go as they wished with the ever-present curl of incense smoke being the only sign that any shadow of a soul was about. The two of them loitered about until a middle-aged nun in gray robes came to greet them.
Yue-ying pressed her palms together and bowed respectfully. “Elder Sister.”
Bai Huang stood apart from them as she asked the nun about Huilan. Afterward, she bowed once again as thank-you and farewell before returning to Bai Huang.
“The nuns say that Huilan came every month, always on the first,” Yue-ying reported. “The earthquake happened on the first as well.”
They left the temple and walked together to the nearby bridge and looked down into the water. Bai Huang gripped the wooden rail, his hand placed inadvertently close to hers, while she held her breath, uncertain of whether she should move away or not. He was always testing the boundaries between them; inviting familiarity.
“Her young man probably met her here every month,” he said.
“Huilan must have used the temple visits to get permission to leave the Hundred Songs,” she surmised.
Most of the courtesans were bonded servants or slaves to their den mothers. Their personal time was carefully guarded.
“I wonder if he knows that she won’t ever return.” The water reflected a ripple of light over his face and his expression looked distant. “On the first day of next month, he’ll wait here for her, anxious and lonely.”
Bai Huang had a scholar’s heart, all full of drama and tragic longing. But such romantic ideals were a luxury of the upper class.
They had passed a peasant woman sitting beside a basket at the bridge’s entrance. Yue-ying broke away from Bai Huang to go to her.
“Scallion cakes, miss!” The woman repeated her hawker’s cry.
Yue-ying recalled that same cry when she’d been passing by after the earthquake. “Are you here every day, Auntie?” she asked.
“Every day from sunup to sundown,” the graying woman said. Her gaze shifted behind Yue-ying. “Unless it’s raining. Scallion cakes, sir?”
“Are they delicious?” Bai Huang came up to stand behind Yue-ying.
“The best, my lord.” The woman lifted the lid of her basket to show off the flat, yellow pancakes.
“I’ll have two.”
“Why not make it four?” the woman urged, taking in Bai Huang’s fine robe. “You’ll wish you had more as soon as you’re done.”
Yue-ying could hear the smile in his tone as he answered, “Four, then.”
“Do you recall seeing a young woman, about the same age as me?” Yue-ying asked as Bai Huang handed over his coin. “Pale-skinned, brown hair. Very pretty. She came here at the beginning of every month.”
“I know who you’re speaking of. Skin white as snow. Every month, without fail.”
“Was there ever anyone with her?”
“Ah, yes! A young fellow.”
Yue-ying glanced at Bai Huang. “Similar in look to him?”
“Oh, no. My lord here is much taller. And much more handsome. This man was round of face. His clothes were plain.”
They left with their scallion cakes and a description which, unfortunately, could fit any number of men in the ward.
Bai Huang pointed a finger at her. “You didn’t believe that it wasn’t me meeting Huilan,” he accused.
“Not true. I was just using you as a point of comparison.”
He snorted.
“And the woman charged you extra for the scallion cakes,” Yue-ying said out of the corner of her mouth.
“She-demon.”
He split the cakes with her and took a hearty bite. Yue-ying nibbled at hers and wondered whether the she-demon he referred to was her or the peasant woman.
“So Huilan had a secret lover,” he concluded.
“Someone without means. Otherwise he could have courted her openly at the Hundred Songs. He might have been frustrated, unable to have the woman he desired. That could push a man to commit murder.”
Bai Huang regarded her silently. “This sort of behavior is something you’ve experienced yourself?”
“Not directly.”
But she’d witnessed it. Such things were inevitable when women were bought and sold as property. When commerce was confused with sex and emotion. To pleasure seekers, the North Hamlet was supposed to be a place of beauty, poetry and music. All of the courtesans worked to perpetuate that illusion, but Yue-ying was no courtesan.
“The sadness of it is, such deaths are usually at the hands of angry patrons or lovers.” Her mouth twisted cynically. “Some men mistake it for passion.”
