The Lotus Palace (22 page)

He carried the makeshift sack to the table beneath the window. The silver inside made a solid clank as he set it down. The stash appeared intact from when she had discovered it, showing Wu to be an upstanding individual. The constable could have easily kept half the stash for himself and no one would have been any the wiser.

Wu pulled out five of the ingots, placing them beside one another in a line. “The molds used to cast taels of silver vary according to the local silversmiths and money-lenders. This one here—” he pointed to a saddle-shaped ingot inscribed with several markings “—is commonly used in Suzhou prefecture. A few of these other molds are not commonly seen in the capital. The variety of ingots found in this stash indicates that the silver came from many different origins.”

Yue-ying studied the designs before her. At least the discussion kept her mind away from what she’d just learned about Bai Huang’s betrothal.

“So the silver could have come from smugglers,” she speculated.

Wu shook his head.

“Why not? It’s possible.”

“It may be possible, but you have already decided on a conclusion and now you are fitting what information you find to that idea. That approach is inherently flawed.”

After being in the hold of a smuggling ship the night before, it was easy for her to imagine dreadful scenarios involving greed and murder.

She swallowed nervously. “There is something I wanted to ask you, Constable. If someone were to have stolen from a dishonest person, are they still guilty?”

“You mean is it a crime to steal from a thief?” Wu asked, an eyebrow raised. “That’s a matter for the magistrate to deliberate.”

“What of a situation where someone caused the death of another person when it wasn’t intended,” she went on. “Surely that wouldn’t be considered as great of a crime?”

Wu wrapped the silver back inside the shawl and returned the entire stash to the drawer.

“I think you should be careful of what you reveal to me,” he said after some thought.

Though she was wary of him, there had always been a connection between her and Constable Wu. Like hers, his harsh features lacked beauty and symmetry. The two of them weren’t even blessed with plainness. Wu’s appearance was upsetting to others, just as hers was. She wanted to believe that his coldness came from this.

“I was hoping we could be of assistance to each other so Mingyu can be found,” she said. “All I ask is that all circumstances be considered when judging her.”

“Such an appeal is better made to the magistrate.”

Who would ignore her as a humble servant pleading on behalf of her mistress.

Wu continued, “We have been searching throughout the Pingkang li for days. Given how Lady Mingyu left no notice to even her most trusted servant, it is my belief your mistress does not want to be found. Unfortunately, that also leads me to believe that her involvement in the stranger’s death was neither an accident nor a defensive act, as you tried to insinuate.”

“But you’ll question the smugglers?” she asked, feeling desperation set in.

“I will question everything and everyone,” he assured her. “But I am not a friend, Miss Yue-ying. I will find your mistress and bring her before the tribunal, as is my duty. Lady Mingyu lost any chance for mercy when she went into hiding.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

T
HE
WARM
SMELL
of garlic and spices hovered in the courtyard when Huang returned at the end of the day and there was movement in the kitchen. He peered inside to see Yue-ying at the woodstove behind a haze of steam. Her hair was tied back with a scarf, but strands of it had fallen loose and hung damp around her face.

He leaned against the doorframe and waited, watching. It wasn’t long before she spied him out of the corner of her eye.

“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook,” he said with a grin.

“I don’t. Auntie Mu prepared everything.” She opened a clay pot to peek inside.

“Who’s Auntie Mu?”

She shot him an odd look. “Your landlady.”

“Yes, of course.”

He recalled the old woman’s name. It was just that they tended to stay out of one another’s way and spoke in polite honorifics when in conversation—what few conversations they’d had. Yue-ying was shaking her head in disbelief as she spooned some greens onto a dish.

“Let me help,” he offered, moving in to transfer the clay pot to the table.

She gave him only a cursory glance before going to the back shelf to fetch the wine.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, disconcerted at having to call to her from across the kitchen. Though she was only ten paces away, a valley had opened up between them.

“Nothing,” she said in a tone that was clipped. “Please sit.”

He did so, watching her carefully the entire time. She ladled stew into a bowl for him and tilted the ewer of wine over his cup. Even when she sat down beside him, she continued to avoid his gaze. He had come to look forward to sharing the evening meal with Yue-ying where they could recount the moments of the day together, but tonight was different.

“Something has happened,” he stated.

“Constable Wu,” she replied. “I thought he could be reasoned with, but I was wrong.”

An encounter with that demon could put anyone in a foul mood, but he knew Yue-ying well enough to see that she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. Her shoulders were tense and there was no softness about her mouth or eyes.

She covered her agitation in the business of dinner, ladling stew and pouring more wine for herself. They ate at first in relative silence. Last night, Yue-ying had been full of passion and, this morning, full of warmth. Now the walls were high around her once more.

“This is very good,” he said, figuring complimenting a meal was the most proven way to ingratiate oneself. The stew was made of a rich, thick broth with cuts of lamb meat heavily seasoned with spices. A simple, yet luxurious offering.

“I’ll tell Auntie Mu,” she said quietly. “It will make her happy.”

He finished his first cup of wine a bit hastily, but understandable given the circumstances. They reached for the wine ewer at the same time, fingers colliding. He took the opportunity to try to take hold of her, but she slipped out of his grasp, like a carp in water, and picked up her spoon again to resume her meal.

He was left to pour his own wine, which he did while keeping his eyes on her. “I thought of you today.”

Her lips twitched, though her expression remained frustratingly blank.

“Wherever I went, people spoke to me, but I could barely hear them. My head was full of thoughts of you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, while he grinned from ear to ear. One of the lessons he’d learned while playing the lovesick fool was how often the lovesick fool was quite effective. He also knew Yue-ying liked sweet words and flattery, though she would never admit it.

“I hope you were able to listen for at least part of the day. We were looking for more information on the smuggling ship,” she replied coolly, though a few stones had crumbled from her wall.

Whatever he had done to upset her—and he was certain there was something given the painfully mild expression she wore—it certainly wasn’t deliberate on his part. But given that she was a woman and he a man, he was going to have to try to make amends without ever knowing his wrongs in the first place.

“The owner incurred a heavy fine for importing goods without paying a tax, but other than that there was little that could be done,” he reported. “The crew claimed to have no knowledge of the nature of the cargo and will likely be released after forfeiting a day’s wages.”

“So we have little more than we started with,” she said sadly.

“Other than more theories, which are worth as much as the dust beneath our feet,” he concurred in all seriousness. “But tonight I hope to find out more about that gang who tried to attack me. Perhaps they are in some way connected to the ship.”

She stopped eating to stare at him. “You don’t plan to go roaming the streets at night, do you?”

“Of course not. Someone much more fearsome than I roams the streets on my behalf and then I pay for a report from him.”

“The friend who’s not a friend,” she recalled.

“Yes, exactly. I plan to meet him tonight at the gambling den.”

She sipped slowly at her wine while regarding him. At least she didn’t seem as upset anymore, but she was still frowning. “You sent Zhou Dan with me this morning because you were worried for my safety. You should be concerned for yourself as well.”

“I know this place.”

Yue-ying was not convinced. “Gambling dens are frequented by scoundrels.”

He certainly couldn’t argue with that. “I’m very much aware of the dangers.” His throat felt dry. He finished his wine to help ease the conversation along. “You may have heard I incurred a substantial debt to a money-lender three years ago. I got caught up playing the dice and started spending more time at the tables than at my studies.”

He had failed the palace exams twice already, and the pressure to pass had become overwhelming. Without the
jinshi
degree, he couldn’t receive an imperial appointment. Not many scholars passed the highest-level exams, but he came from a family of distinguished poets and statesmen. There was never any question of failure. It wasn’t allowed. The dice took him away from all that for a few hours.

“When I lost my monthly allowance, I borrowed from friends to scrape by. But I had a bad run and lost the next month’s allowance as well. I couldn’t tell my family. I was too proud—or too scared.”

It was hard admitting these things aloud. He’d never done so, not even to his father, who didn’t need the details to figure out what had befallen him. But Yue-ying listened to his story quietly, without judgment. He felt a weight lifting off his chest as he spoke. It was as if he were speaking of someone else’s life. As if he could leave the past behind if he finally revealed everything to her. He could be rid of these ghosts.

He went on, emboldened. “I thought for sure I could recover the money. I started borrowing from a money-lender. He recognized my name and that alone was enough for him to provide me with money to seed my bets for a while. I swore I would only borrow enough to earn back my allowance as well as enough to pay off the rest of my debts. The dice surely couldn’t keep rolling so foul for so long. They had to turn.”

“It happens to many a young scholar,” Yue-ying said gently. “They spend small fortunes on dice or women.”

She did understand. He relaxed into the story, feeling they were Bai Huang and Yue-ying once again.

“I had been raised right here in the capital, so I foolishly thought I was too worldly to be lured in. I wasn’t one of those poor peasants from the countryside, having never seen such pleasures.

“But I was wrong about everything. I did win some nights, but it was never enough. If the dice were rolling well, I had to stay and maybe I would double my winnings. If the dice were not rolling well, then I had to stay and cover my losses.

“Finally I owed too much and tried to stop going to the tables. It only made matters worse. The money-lender’s minions started coming after me, demanding repayment. I thought I was above them. That I could forget that seedy part of the city ever existed and go on with my life. There was nothing they could do to me.”

“You didn’t go to your family?” she asked.

He met her eyes regretfully. “I couldn’t.”

Too much was at stake. Money, but more importantly face. Honor.

“But my father found out anyway,” he said. “After I failed the exams yet another time, the money-lender hired men with knives to hunt me down. Father sent me away from the capital then. He used his name and reputation to keep the money-lenders quiet, but the debt was legitimate. So he paid it all. He could have disowned me, but instead he took me to his post in Fujian province and taught me everything I had forgotten about responsibility and restraint.”

“I can imagine how he must have taught you.”

“My father is very strict with his teachings.” He managed a baleful smile. “And I deserved every bit of it.”

He had left out crucial parts of the tale: that the money-lender’s hirelings had done more than simply threaten him. He didn’t want to subject her to such ugliness.

“You were very fortunate. I’m glad.”

This time, she reached over to refill his wine cup for him. Her fingers remained curled tantalizingly close after she set the ewer down.

“But there’s one thing I still don’t understand,” she began slowly. “After what happened to you, why go back to the gambling den?”

“I don’t want to.” This was the difficult part to admit, but the more he said aloud, the more he felt the black poison was leaving his veins. “I vowed I would never gamble again, but after a month in Changan I found myself standing back at the table, staring at the dice. It’s in my blood,” he confessed. “It’s a...a weakness. I know this now.”

“If you know this—”

“I have strict rules,” he went on, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. “I only go once a week, never more than that. I bet a certain amount of cash, but I never leave with any winnings.”

She looked confused and he didn’t blame her. It was difficult to explain how having this control, paying out a little bit at a time, made him able to resist being dragged down by greater temptation.

“Consider the money I lose as somewhat like a banquet fee in a pleasure house, a payment for time spent.” He had never thought of that before. It made a lot of sense in comparison and he was feeling confident now. “There are other benefits as well. You have noticed that I try to keep up a certain reputation in the quarter with the drinking and the gambling. Many government officials, high and low, also enjoy the gambling tables. It’s as good of a place to gather information as the Pingkang li.”

“What sort of information do you need to gather?”

This was drifting quickly into another conversation entirely. He would have to tell her at some point, but now was not yet the time.

“It’s a matter of making connections with the right people.”

There. She would accept that. The activities of the Pingkang li centered around social functions of that very nature.

“And there are people I’ve met who know of the black markets and other dark dealings in the city,” he continued. “I discovered Commissioner Ma Jun took bribes and also how to approach the shipping merchant, Ouyang Yi. These connections have been very useful for our investigation.”

Surely that explained the situation to her satisfaction.

It didn’t. “But the money-lender’s men threatened you. You lost so much money that they were going to kill you.”

“That was all in the past. I was younger—”

“Lord Bai.” Her tone sharpened. “Listen to yourself. There is no logic there. If you no longer care about winning, why play at all?”

He could feel his muscles tensing. “This keeps me from losing my way ever again.”

“Like a man who drinks a little every day isn’t tempted to get drunk? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does! I’m careful now. I know my limits.”

“I have another suggestion for you.” She was glaring at him all of a sudden. “If you want to stop gambling—
don’t go
.”

He was stunned into silence, but she wasn’t done.

“You keep on going to a place where they’ve threatened you. And you keep paying out money willingly to them. As if money rains from the sky over you. Maybe it does.” She grabbed her wine cup, but didn’t drink. Her hand was shaking too hard. “Do you even realize how much a thousand coins is worth? People work their entire lives and don’t see so much as that. People are sold for less—”

“You’re making too much of this.”

Her mouth twisted. “If you go there tonight, you’re a fool.”

All of the warmth he had once felt faded away, along with his feelings of trust in confiding his past to her. There was a heavy silence between them as the food grew cold.

“You’ve forgotten your place,” he warned quietly.

Yue-ying met his glare without flinching. If he was cold, then she was hot, burning with a fire in her eyes. She pressed her palms flat against the table and stood.

The fire faded away until her eyes were empty of any emotion. “Forgive me, Lord Bai.”

He picked up his wine and drank, not acknowledging her as she moved past him and out of the kitchen. He heard the door of her chamber—no, of
his
chamber shutting.