The Lotus Palace (21 page)

“Because that wouldn’t make any sense,” he scoffed. “A teapot may serve many cups, but you never see one cup with many teapots.”

She laughed at him. “You are better at making love than at making arguments, Lord Bai.”

“I am?” he asked suggestively. He pulled her up and kissed her, then they wrestled until he was on top, still kissing her.

Yue-ying was right. Things were going well. It wasn’t time to argue. He had wanted to assure her she didn’t need to be afraid of what would happen next. She would never have to contemplate selling herself to a brothel or wonder what her future would be. He could take care of her. He wanted to.

He wasn’t good for much, but he was at least good for that.

His flesh was responding to having Yue-ying beneath him. It wasn’t long before he was hard enough to enter her again. He did so slowly, listening to the catch of her breath in the dark.

“This is good between us, isn’t it?” he asked, thrusting gently.

Her thighs curved around his hips to hold on to him. “Yes.”

He had been holding his breath waiting for that answer. He exhaled now and eased himself deeper into her, loving the arch of her back in response. Over the past few days, he had wondered from moment to moment whether Yue-ying would ever let him into her heart as well as her body.

She let out a sigh as she wrapped her arms around him. “Despite everything that has happened, this is good.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Y
UE
-
YING
DIDN
’
T
KNOW
what time it was when they finally fell asleep. She suspected it was very close to morning because she had barely closed her eyes before there was sunlight peeking through the bamboo shutters. Bai Huang reached for her when she stirred.

“Sleep,” he urged.

She obeyed without argument, closing her eyes and drifting off with the scent of his skin surrounding her. He smelled of books, of fragrant wood and morning forest. She must have been dreaming. She had never been in a forest.

When she woke again, he was gone. The room was warm, telling her it was past morning and heading well toward noon. She dressed herself and combed her hair before fixing it with a pin. Then she took a moment to set the chamber straight before venturing out into the courtyard.

The windows and door of the study were propped open. She could see Bai Huang inside. He wore a light tan-colored robe, suitable for the summer heat, with striking blue trim. The contrast between his present groomed appearance and the raw sensuality of the previous night sent a rush of emotion through her.

Bai Huang was patient. He was persistent, gently pushing against her doubts and fears without overwhelming her until suddenly she found he’d worked his way inside those barriers. He had disarmed her bit by bit and Yue-ying had never thought she would feel this way about any man. She hadn’t known she was capable of it.

He was writing into a booklet and had already filled several pages with tidy columns of characters, perfectly spaced apart. He had a look of concentration on his face, the one that caused a faint crease to appear between his eyes. She knocked before entering.

“Yue-ying.”

He moved his brush instinctively back over the ink stone to prevent any dripping and he greeted her with a smile that held many unspoken sentiments. Her stomach fluttered.

“Lord Bai.”

He raised his eyebrows at that, but she let the honorific stand, though there was an underlying intimacy in the way she settled into the chair opposite him without invitation. Just being near him made her skin flush warm. This was very new to her. She decided she liked it.

“A commentary on the Spring and Autumn annals,” he said in response to her curious look. He waved his hand dismissively toward the booklet. “Senseless rambling on my part really.”

She watched as he held up the booklet to ensure the last of the ink was dry before folding the pages in.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Act the fool.”

He regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “It’s not always an act,” he said finally with a self-mocking smile.

Perhaps humility was a virtue, but Bai Huang habitually belittled himself. She had seen how he had taken command at the docks. He also had proven himself to be a much more serious scholar than he claimed. His behavior continued to be a puzzle.

“Last night,” he began.

She stopped him. “Lord Bai.”

“You’re blushing.”

“The day is uncustomarily warm,” she returned without pause.

“Is this love?” he asked simply. His voice was low and sensual.

“Scholars and their romantic notions,” she chided, though her heart was hammering inside her.

Most gentlemen who visited the pleasure quarters were looking for a temporary diversion. They enjoyed the games of courtship without having to be serious about it.

Bai Huang was at the height of his youth. It would be likely another two or three years before he was required to settle down and dedicate himself to career and family. A decent amount of time for an affair, long enough for a few good memories. Her chest constricted around the thought.

“Let us see what comes,” she said.

He wasn’t satisfied with her answer, but didn’t press on. “I’m being selfish again. There are other things on your mind, of course.”

She nodded, grateful he was providing her with an escape. “Nothing is more important than finding Mingyu. What if she and Huilan encountered a slave trader on the docks?”

It made sense. The member of the gang who had threatened Bai Huang in the gambling den had mentioned her by her old name. She had obviously been recognized from the brothels.

“Could Mingyu have killed the man out of revenge?” he asked.

Yue-ying let out a deep breath. “We were sold by our parents,” she reminded him. “There’s no use blaming procurers and slave traders. We might as well curse poverty, or famine, or simply misfortune.”

“Mingyu might not be as forgiving. She is known to bear a grudge,” he pointed out.

Yue-ying didn’t have an argument for that. Mingyu could wield a barb like an assassin’s knife. She’d been known to cut down many an unworthy scholar for some infraction or another and she had the ear of key public figures. Mingyu wielded just enough influence to decry a potential appointee as lacking in manners or strength of character. But such social vindictiveness didn’t mean she was capable of murder.

Bai Huang continued, “I mean to inquire with the Ministry of Works today to get a full account of last night’s operation. The crew is being questioned about the body in the river as well. Perhaps some new information will be revealed. And if that fails...” He hesitated. “This is the sort of information my associate may have some insight about.”

She remembered how he had gone to speak to someone the day after Mingyu had disappeared. “Who is this mysterious associate you always speak of?”

“Just a friend of mine. Well, not really a friend,” he corrected. “Someone I’ve come to know.”

She frowned at that. “Is he a friend or isn’t he?”

“He can be helpful, but I have to always remember that he can also be very dangerous.” Bai Huang sifted aimlessly through the papers on his desk, rearranging them as he explained the situation. “There’s a place just outside the Pingkang li, in the adjacent quarter. A gambling den. I only go there once in a while.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as if something had just stung him. “Once a week.”

Once in a while was not the same as once a week, but she refrained from pointing that out.

“In any case, if there’s no information from the ministry, then I’ll try to see if there’s any news from the street.”

“I was thinking I would speak to Constable Wu today.”

He scowled. “That demon Wu again.”

Bai Huang was showing the prejudices of his noble birth. Constables were working men who got their hands dirty and had the unpleasant duty of dealing with outlaws. They weren’t considered much higher than the criminals they chased after.

“I regret not being more forthcoming with him from the beginning,” she confessed. “Constable Wu has a reputation for being ruthless and I was afraid for Mingyu, but it’s been five days now since she disappeared. It’s better that Wu finds her than a gang of outlaws seeking revenge.”

The thought of losing Mingyu left her numb. They had parted so unexpectedly, it was like being torn away from her sister all over again.

“I’ll send for Zhou Dan to accompany you,” Bai Huang said gravely. “We still don’t know exactly what happened that night, but it’s obvious Mingyu has become involved with something very dangerous, just as you feared.”

* * *

B
AI
H
UANG
LEFT
FIRST
,
headed toward the commerce offices. A little while later, Zhou Dan arrived driving a carriage. He wasn’t alone.

“Lady Bai,” Yue-ying greeted, more than a little surprised to see Bai Huang’s sister sitting beneath the canopy.

“It’s so rare that I have the opportunity to venture into the city, I thought I would accompany you.” Wei-wei, much like her brother, was accustomed to getting her way.

Yue-ying glanced over to Zhou Dan, who shot her a helpless look. There was not much Yue-ying could do either, so she climbed up onto the carriage and took her seat without protest.

“How old are you, Miss Yue-ying?” Wei-wei asked as the carriage rolled forward.

“Twenty-two.”

“I’m twenty-three. I shall call you Little Sister, then.” She looked satisfied to have established such status. “And you should call me Elder Sister.”

Yue-ying bit back a smile. Bai Huang’s sister was a bit of a tyrant.

“May I ask a question, Little Sister?”

Yue-ying nodded, but did so warily.

“I’ve never known anyone like you. How is it living so freely? Here you are, with my brother, just the two of you. I sometimes wonder how it must be to be a courtesan,” Wei-wei said wistfully. “To be admired for your accomplishments. To live on your own.”

“Elder Sister. I would advise you not to make me into something I’m not.”

“But you are from the North Hamlet, are you not? And you are my brother’s—” She cast a furtive look about, as if her amah were lurking nearby with a bamboo rod in hand. “His lover?”

“I’m not certain this is something we should speak of.”

Wei-wei was undeterred. “But why not? It’s just the two of us here and we’re friends. At least, I would like to be friends,” she added hopefully.

Her earnestness was touching. There was no hiding that Yue-ying and Bai Huang were lovers now, but that was a private matter between the two of them. Certainly not for polite conversation with his overly curious sister.

“Huang hasn’t ever mentioned you,” Wei-wei complained.

“I am not the sort of woman one speaks of,” Yue-ying said, more amused than embarrassed. “We can be friends for the time being, but I don’t exist, at least not to anyone as important as family. One day your brother will find a woman who is fit to marry him and I will disappear like smoke.”

Wei-wei gave her an odd look before glancing over at the passing scenery. For once, she had nothing to say.

“Lady Bai?”

Wei-wei finally looked back to her. “My brother is already betrothed. His marriage was arranged a long time ago.”

The air rushed out of her. Yue-ying struggled to recover. “Of course. She must also be from a good family.”

Bai Huang could at least have told her. But then again, why should he? He was living his life in a half dream away from his family. Pouring out money as if it were water. Why ruin the illusion by mentioning things like familial obligation?

This changed nothing. She was never going to be his wife; she knew that. She was merely a lover he had taken before passing the imperial exams and starting his life. There were poems about such wistful romances floating throughout the Pingkang li on colored paper. Melancholy poems centered on the impermanence of youth and love.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Wei-wei apologized.

“It was to be expected.” She shrugged and tried to appear indifferent. From Wei-wei’s look of concern, she was apparently unsuccessful.

The carriage stopped before the gray walls of the magistrate’s yamen. Yue-ying suggested Wei-wei stay with her servant outside. Wei-wei stared at the imposing gate with its retinue of armed guards and made no protest.

Yue-ying approached the gate with some trepidation herself. Once inside, she found a clerk and asked to see Constable Wu.

She was brought to a small room with narrow windows near the back of the compound. Wu Kaifeng was deep in conversation with two other constables. The three of them were seated on wooden benches and the room appeared to be a communal area.

She stood by the door politely and waited to be acknowledged. Wu lifted his gaze to her, his eyebrows rising in question. His discussion ended shortly after, and he came to her.

“Miss Yue-ying.”

He was dressed in his usual dark uniform and his head nearly brushed the top of the doorframe.

She took a step back. “Constable Wu. I wondered if you had any news of Lady Mingyu?”

His look was flat and unwelcoming, but his look was always so. Yue-ying had become accustomed to it and stood firm.

“No news,” he reported. “I would ask the same of you.”

“I have not heard from Mingyu, but I’ve learned of something that might be helpful. This might help you find the identity of the stranger who was found dead.” She told him of the previous night’s events and the smuggling boat captured at the docks.

Wu regarded her for a long time. From his reaction, he appeared to not have heard of the incident, nor was he particularly moved by it.

“Come with me,” he said finally.

They passed by an enclosed and guarded corridor where she assumed the holding cells for prisoners must be located. She shuddered, imagining how frightening it must be to be locked in the darkness.

Wu led her into what appeared to be a record room. Scrolls and books were organized onto rows of shelves. On the far wall was a set of drawers, each one marked with a number. The wall resembled the medicine cabinets she would see in an herbal shop, but the drawers were much larger. The constable pulled one open near the top and removed a familiar-looking bundle wrapped in green silk.