The Lotus Palace (31 page)

She leaned toward him and only then would he face her. She had never seen him look the way he did at that moment. Drained of life. He had no more fight in him.

“One last kiss,” he said quietly.

“And then I’ll go. No farewells. Let this be our last memory of each other.”

“Am I the illusion now, Yue-ying?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she kissed him, softly, as she had the first time. He accepted it without moving, as he had the first time. And then she stood to go, just as she had promised.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

H
E
WROTE
Y
UE
-
YING
poetry on ten-colored paper, a different color every day. Actually, it wasn’t poetry, but rather the first thoughts he had each morning, which had no rhythm or sense to them.

I woke up and you were not there.

I wish I could hear your voice again.

Yue-ying, I miss you.

He pursued her with the same dogged intensity with which he had pretended to court Mingyu. One night, he went to call on the Lotus Palace only to be told Yue-ying was not there and Mingyu could not see him. Madame Sun allowed him graciously to stay, which he did for hours listening to sad songs played on the pipa, hoping to catch the sight of dark, thoughtful eyes and a smooth cheek marked dramatically with red.

I rode on a boat today and thought of you.

I wish it were winter once more.

There was no way, absolutely no way, wooing a woman could be harder than passing the palace exams. Yue-ying was being difficult and stubborn. And he knew that courtship games wouldn’t impress her, yet he tried them anyway.

Amid his turmoil, Mother was already consulting an astrologer to pick an auspicious date for his wedding. Father was arranging meetings for him with influential officials across the Six Ministries. He found himself avoiding the Bai mansion, if only for a few moments of freedom before duty and obligation took over.

The morning Huang was summoned home, he went obediently as always. His father and mother were seated in the garden, drinking tea and speaking of everyday things: the running of the household and his upcoming wedding.

Huang meant to approach, but stopped himself when he saw Father reaching over to place his hand onto Mother’s shoulder. He would have thought nothing of the gesture, if he hadn’t caught how his father’s thumb moved tenderly upward to stroke his wife’s neck. Mother’s expression immediately softened and their eyes met. Huang stopped, realizing that he was intruding upon a moment that was private and profound.

His parents never spoke openly of love. He had never seen them touch or exchange soft looks with one another. All he had learned from them was honor and respect and duty, which were all important qualities in a marriage for certain. But that one tiny movement, so quick he had almost missed it, told him of all the things he didn’t know of between his parents.

Quietly, he retreated from the garden and went to seek out Wei-wei. As usual, his sister was in the study watching over Chang-min’s studies.

“Ah, the illustrious imperial scholar himself,” she said, beaming.

Wei-wei had been in an unshakably good mood since he had passed the exams. His achievement was a reflection of her own success as a tutor, which he didn’t begrudge her. Wei-wei had always been more focused and more dedicated than he was.

“Can we speak privately, Little Sister?”

“Follow your brother’s good example,” she told Chang-min as parting advice before she closed the study door.

They walked together into the parlor where he noted the furnishings had been rearranged. A prized painting as well as jade carving had been taken out for display.

“What’s happening here?”

Wei-wei swatted his arm. “Don’t you remember? Your wife’s family is visiting today.”

His family always spoke of the arranged marriage as if the ceremony had already taken place.

“Right, I remember now. I wanted to ask you about something,” he said, eager to change the subject.

Wei-wei waited with her face tilted toward him expectantly. She wore a serious expression, truly having inherited all of the determination and focus that he lacked.

“Does Mother ever speak to you about Lady Shang?”

She blinked at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Does she—?” This was difficult. These were private matters that even family rarely intruded upon. “Is she angry that Lady Shang is Father’s constant companion while she remains in the capital?”

Now Wei-wei was uncomfortable as well. “From everything I’ve seen, Lady Shang is always obedient and agreeable.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “But there must have been strife when Father first brought another woman home. Even if there wasn’t love between Father and Mother—”

“What makes you say there isn’t love between them?” she asked.

“Well...ah...”

They were huddled in the corner and whispering as if they were children conspiring together. He certainly felt like a youth, his face heating the way it was.

“I assumed if a man was truly in love with his wife then he wouldn’t feel the need to...well, since Mother had already given him a son and a daughter, what other reason...?”

This was awful. He was miserable. He could see his sister was miserable listening to him struggle.

“Huang.” Thankfully, she stopped him. “Don’t you know? Father didn’t bring Lady Shang into our family. It was Mother.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “These are women’s issues, Huang. Why do you need to ask such things?”

“They concern our family. I...ah...should know about them.”

Wei-wei, who was usually brash enough to say anything to him, was blushing. The boundaries between parent and child and between the issues of men and women in the household were so distinct that it was difficult to even broach the subject. There was no language for it.

“I was a difficult birth,” Wei-wei began. “Mother lost two unborn children after me. When she couldn’t share Father’s bed— Must you really hear all this?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “She sought out someone who was well mannered and respectful who would make Father happy and who would join harmoniously with the rest of the family. Is that not love?”

Suddenly, all of his memories of his parents took on a new light. He had been a fool to think that separating his life would be so easy: honor and duty on one side, love and passion on another. He had been mistaken about everything: what it meant to raise a family, to run a household. To sacrifice. To love.

“Little Sister.”

“Yes,
jinshi
?”

For someone who had attained an imperial scholar’s degree, he was ignorant about a lot of things. Wei-wei had proven herself much more clever than he when it came to being an obedient daughter, yet still getting her way.

“I need your help.”

* * *

N
OT
SINCE
THE
earthquake last year had there been such commotion. Excited chatter filled the Lotus Palace as the house completed its preparations. Every surface had been swept and polished and cleaned. Old Auntie stocked the pantry with the finest tea available in the marketplace and everyone was dressed in their best silk robes for the occasion.

The highly anticipated visitor that morning was not a gentleman, but a woman. Yue-ying hid behind one of the screens in the entrance hall to catch a glimpse of the illustrious visitor. She tried to remain as still as a cat as she peeked through the tiny crack between the bamboo panels.

The moment their guest arrived, a hush fell over the Lotus Palace as if the Empress herself were visiting. With jade bracelets on each wrist and strings of pearls in her hair, Madame Sun greeted the noblewoman just inside the door.

“Welcome! Welcome! Please come in.” She bowed three times to the elder Lord Bai’s wife.

Mingyu was beside her, speaking in that sultry, stately tone that she had cultivated.

“Bai
Furen
, what an honor to receive you here at our humble establishment.”

“Lady Mingyu, I have long heard of your name spoken with great praise.”

Yue-ying squinted and caught a glimpse of a surprisingly small woman. Her robe was deep green in color, embroidered with gold chrysanthemums and elegantly draped. Her hair was tucked into a high chignon, resembling summer clouds, and her high cheekbones and well-defined chin lent a strength to her features that was tempered by a delicately shaped mouth and soft, strikingly sensual eyes.

Though she was hidden, Yue-ying’s palms began to sweat and her pulse skipped at the realization that she was standing no more than ten paces away from Bai Huang’s mother. She had heard very little about the woman, but the
furen
of a powerful man was someone to be respected.

Lady Bai and Mingyu retreated to the parlor for tea and Yue-ying slipped out from behind the screen to sneak along the corridor, stopping just short of the doorway blocked off by a sheer curtain.

She had hardly believed the letter when it arrived. Bai Huang’s mother had come to have tea and discuss matters of importance between their two families with Mingyu. The women were exchanging a few pleasantries now, though the conversation was overpowered by the pounding of Yue-ying’s heart.

She leaned closer to the curtain and contemplated pulling it back just a sliver, when a low voice sounded very close to her ear.

“What underhanded deeds are you planning here?”

She spun around and was immediately caught in a pair of strong arms.

“Huang! What is going on?”

Bai Huang hushed her while his arms circled with aching familiarity around her waist. He glanced toward the curtain. “Don’t interrupt. They’re discussing our future in there.”

A mischievous half smile was fixed on his face and the sight of it hooked deep into her. She’d missed his smile. She’d missed him, but she hadn’t lost her sense of reason. Why would he bring his mother to arrange for a concubine when he was to be married soon?

“There is no future between us. What of your wife?”

He drew her closer. The smile had faded away and his look was as serious as she had ever seen him. “It’s my hope that you will be my wife, Yue-ying. My first wife. My only wife.”

“I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a figure wandering at the other end of the hall, peering curiously into various chambers.

“Wei-wei!” Bai Huang whispered sharply.

Wei-wei kept on moving, clearly ignoring her brother as he called out to her once again. She darted into one of the smaller sitting rooms while the two of them trailed after her.

“You’re supposed to be with Mother,” Bai Huang admonished.

“I’ve never been inside a pleasure house,” Wei-wei protested, her gaze sliding over every inch of the room. She paused to study a set of characters that had been written in black ink directly onto the wooden panels of the wall. It was a couplet about the beauty of the peonies in spring, a thinly veiled erotic poem brushed onto the wall at some late hour by some ardent scholar. Wei-wei stared at it as if committing it to memory.

“Why is your family here in the Pingkang li?” Yue-ying’s heart had been beating too fast for too long. She was startled and confused and her head was beginning to throb.

Bai Huang opened his mouth to speak, but Wei-wei was quicker. “When our father refused to let him marry and threatened to disown him, Elder Brother was at a loss.” She brushed at the front of Bai Huang’s robe sympathetically. “So he asked me for my help and now we are both here to accompany our mother. She wanted to formally ask Mingyu’s permission, as the head of your family, for the two of you to marry.”

Yue-ying looked over at Bai Huang. “But your marriage was arranged years ago.”

His eyes never left her face. “A new arrangement has been made.”

“Ah, yes,” Wei-wei began with pride. “I brought my younger brother to the park where I knew Huang’s bride-to-be would be taking a stroll with her cousin. From there, I simply let youth and the spring air take its own course. An arranged marriage is an agreement between families, so our two families were able to...rearrange things to everyone’s agreement.”

Yue-ying frowned at the both of them in disbelief. “So the girl is now betrothed to...”

“My younger brother,” Bai Huang finished.

“It was a minor scandal. Lovesick weeping on both sides,” Wei-wei added, quite satisfied as she took hold of Yue-ying’s arm conspiratorially. “Chang-min ignored his studies for three whole days. He’s
never
done that. You see, Little Sister, or, rather, Elder Sister, since you will soon be married to my brother, we women cannot take the imperial exams or hold office. The only power we have is within the home—in the decisions surrounding the education of children and betrothals and marriages.”

“And I am very grateful for your wisdom as a woman, Little Sister,” Bai Huang said with grudging affection.

“My elder brother made the mistake of going to Father to try to break his betrothal. What our imperial scholar never realized was that the only person who could challenge Father—was Mother.”

“But how could Bai
Furen
ever accept someone like me as a daughter-in-law?”