The Corpse Reader (51 page)

Ningzong suspended all royal engagements immediately and ordered the Imperial Judges to be summoned. With them in tow, and surrounded by a large retinue and all his guards, the emperor went in semiprocession to Kan’s rooms. Cí was allowed to go with them.

Kan’s flabby, naked body, hanging from the rafters, stopped them all in midstep. His face looked like that of a burst toad. Ningzong ordered the body cut down, but the Imperial Judges advised against it; they all agreed the first thing was for the room to be inspected. Cí was asked to take part in this.

While the judges commented on Kan’s appearance, Cí’s mind turned to the fine layer of dust on the tiles, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight. He made a quick sketch of the layout of the furniture in the room, including the large dresser that Kan must have climbed on to reach the rafters. He was then granted permission to examine the corpse, and he was so nervous that it felt as if it were the first time he had ever performed such an examination.

Kan’s neck was grotesquely disjointed, his one eye was shut, and his partially open lips and what could be seen of the gums
were black. The teeth were clamped down on the tongue. There was dried spittle at the corners of the mouth, and the rest of the face was tinged blue. His fingers and toes were curled unnaturally inward. His stomach and lower abdomen hung lower than they normally would and had turned blue-black. His thick legs had little spots of blood below the skin—much like the marks made by moxibustion. A pile of feces was on the floor beneath him.

Cí asked permission to approach the corpse and hopped onto the dresser. The rope, he now saw, was made of braided hemp the width of a pinkie finger, thin enough that it cut deep into the skin. It had a slipknot in it and crossed around the back of the head, ear to ear, where it had left a deep, blackish groove just beneath the hairline. To everyone’s surprise, Cí asked for a chair and stood on it on top of the dresser. Higher now, he was able to study the top of the rafter itself, over which the rope had been slung. Then he climbed down and announced he was finished.

Ningzong ordered that Kan be cut down and asked that the Councilor for Rites be brought so funeral preparations could take place.

Once Kan’s body was down, Cí quickly checked the neck to see if the trachea was broken. As the body was being carried out, Bo found a handwritten note on a table alongside Kan’s neatly folded clothes. He scanned it and brought it to the emperor, who read it to himself in a low voice. Then he crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor. When he looked up, his rage was plain for all to see. There would be no public ceremony, he announced, and the Councilor for Rites would not be needed. Kan’s body would be buried nowhere special, he said, and he forbade the utterance of even one word of sympathy for Kan.

A murmur of surprise went around. As the retinue followed the quickly departing emperor, Bo picked up the note and passed it to Cí, who smoothed it out. Kan’s handwriting was unmistakable,
and his seal was there, too. He confessed to the murders and to an attempt to discredit Blue Iris.

Cí sat on the mahogany floor. He couldn’t believe it was all over.

Eventually, Bo helped him to his feet. Cí said good-bye, unsteadily, and headed out into the gardens.

There was nothing keeping him here now. Ming would be freed; Blue Iris would be exonerated. Any accusations Gray Fox brought against him, Feng had promised to divert. The Imperial exams were within reach.

So why, as he wandered through the willows, was he filled with fear?

Because he knew, and couldn’t have been more certain, that Kan’s death hadn’t been suicide, but homicide.

Cí made his way toward the Water Lily Pavilion determined to pack his bags and go. He’d made up his mind. He’d see to Ming’s release, and that would be all. Whatever was going to happen next wasn’t Cí’s concern. They’d made him carry out an investigation; had threatened, tortured, and blackmailed him; they’d locked Ming up…What more could they ask? In Kan they had their scapegoat. If someone was going to find out what had really happened, let it be one of the palace judges who’d been so disdainful toward Cí all along. Or Gray Fox, if he ever bothered to come back. And if he’d managed to find anything out in Jianyang, Cí would be long gone by then.

He saw Blue Iris in the garden. Now he’d never get to find out whether she was guilty or not. He hoped she wasn’t, but what did it matter? He’d been stupid to fall for a woman he knew he couldn’t have, and to betray the one man who had ever really treated him
like a son. He cursed the night they met. And yet, he could still taste her kisses on his lips.

He went up the entrance steps and straight to his room to begin packing. He had to decide what to do with the bronze maker’s mold. If he really wanted to put the case behind him, he had to destroy the evidence. He took the plaster scepter and the spokelike piece from underneath the floorboards. Then he went to his wardrobe to retrieve the two parts of the mold. They were gone.

Clearly, this case wasn’t going to be easy to leave behind, but he was resolved on his course of action. Maybe this was the best thing that could have happened. If someone had collapsed the attic and tried to kill him because he’d been sifting through the remains of the workshop and assembling the ceramic pieces, then whoever had the mold now should keep it.

He finished packing and turned his thoughts to the strange scepter. He picked it up and examined it closely. Its outside was decorated with flower motifs, and he still thought the spoke-like piece somehow went inside. Could it have been some kind of musical instrument, he wondered?

No. Why was he still trying to work it out anyway? He lifted it above his head and was on the verge of smashing it on the floor, but something stopped him. He couldn’t help but think that, if it were relevant to the case, it couldn’t be a bad thing to keep. He’d hide it, just in case there was a chance he could make use of it.

But where? Thinking, he absentmindedly scratched his chest, and his hand caught the key hanging at his neck. He’d forgotten about it. The key to the secret compartment in Ming’s quarters at the academy.

That decided it. He hid the scepter in his clothes and left his room, luggage in hand. Blue Iris was in the main hall, standing beside the front door. She wore a silk dress beneath which he could make out her figure. He noticed, too, that she’d been crying and
couldn’t help but feel a pang at this. He managed only a shamed good-bye before leaving.

He decided to enlist Bo’s help. He was concerned that by the time he returned from the academy, they might not allow him back into the palace. Bo eventually agreed, and together they walked to the academy.

When they arrived, Cí asked for Ming’s assistant, Sui. When he appeared, the middle-aged man looked out from under his bushy eyebrows at Cí with astonishment. But when Cí showed him the key, his expression suddenly became one of concern.

“The Master…?”

Cí explained that Ming was weak but that he’d be better soon, adding that he had asked Cí to bring him a book to read while he recovered. Sui nodded and told Cí to follow him. Bo waited in the garden.

Up in Ming’s quarters, Sui carefully removed a number of books from a shelf at the back, revealing a locked mahogany trapdoor. Cí waited for Sui to leave him, but the servant made no sign that he was going to do so.

Cí hadn’t foreseen this. He took the key from the chain and unlocked the padlock. Cí cursed. It was only a small space, and already full to the brim. Where was he supposed to put the scepter?

“What’s wrong?” asked Sui as Cí turned to face him.

Cí took out the scepter and a purse of coins.

“I need you to do me a favor. Not me, in fact. It’s for Ming.”

Now that Kan was dead, Cí’s only reason to go back to the palace was to secure Ming’s release. Bo went with him to speed the process along. When Cí was alone with Ming, he tried to cheer him. The wounds on his legs had improved, and the color had returned to his
cheeks, so he’d be able to walk within a matter of days. He might as well recuperate back at the academy as in these lovely surroundings, joked Cí, making Ming smile. But when Cí recounted the circumstances of Kan’s death, Ming turned pale again.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he said, as if he could tell Cí was hiding something.

“Nothing,” said Cí, glancing at the sentries.

Ming seemed to believe this, which in a way annoyed Cí. He hated deceiving Ming. And Feng and Blue Iris, too. He bid Ming farewell, saying he’d do his best to get him back to the academy as soon as possible.

Leaving the room, Cí couldn’t shake his self-hate. Deceitfulness was precisely the thing he’d despised in his father these past months, but now he was acting just as unscrupulously. He was finding out firsthand what it was like to look the other way, to not be devoted to the truth, so he could look out for himself. Ignore the guilty, ignore the innocent. Feng and Ming—his compass points—were utterly against this kind of behavior. And his sister came to mind; she’d be far from proud.

What had he become? His head was telling him to flee, but something gnawed at him. He knew it was a feeling to which he had to pay attention.

And then there was Blue Iris, whom he could not forget. The warmth of her body, the sadness of her countenance…Suddenly, he knew he had to at least say good-bye to her. He headed for the Water Lily Pavilion, unsure whether he was obeying a carnal impulse or attempting to maintain a glimmer of dignity.

As he neared the pavilion, he could see Feng standing next to a carriage and horses while half a dozen workers rushed around. When Feng noticed Cí approaching, he stopped what he was doing and came toward him with a smile.

“Cí!” He hugged him warmly. “Iris told me you’d left, but I was sure you couldn’t have.”

Cí had never embraced someone whom he had deceived.

“You’re back early,” said Cí, sure Feng would pull away from the hug.

“Luckily, I managed to sort things out more quickly than I thought I could. Well! Give us a hand with the presents. Iris?” he shouted. “Have you seen? Cí’s back.”

Cí gazed at the
nüshi
, who was standing in the entranceway. He greeted her timidly, but she just turned and went back into the pavilion.

During lunch, Feng inquired as to events in his absence. He noticed that Blue Iris seemed distracted and said so, but she said she wasn’t feeling well and went on serving the caramelized chicken. Feng changed the subject willingly, having only just learned the news about Kan.

“Suicide! What I’d give to know what was going through Kan’s head! I always said he had secrets, but I never thought he’d do something like this.”

Neither Cí nor Blue Iris said a word. So Feng changed the subject again.

“And you, Cí, what are your plans now that your employer isn’t around anymore?”

Cí couldn’t bring himself to look Feng in the eye, especially with Blue Iris right there.

“Go back to the academy, I suppose.”

“Go and eat stale rice again? Not a chance. You’ll stay on with us here. Right, Iris?”

She said nothing, except to order the servants to take away the empty plates. Then she stood up and said she was going to retire, and when Feng offered to accompany her, she flatly refused the offer.