The Lotus Palace (32 page)

“Someone like you?” Bai Huang replied.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

“A woman who has shown herself to be clever and brave?” he challenged softly. “A woman who I could never forget even when she wanted me to?”

“More like a woman who is able to keep my brother in line,” Wei-wei interrupted. “He hasn’t gambled in a year and you didn’t even have to throw him onto a ship. That and Mother wants grandchildren before next summer. The best chances for that are if Huang marries someone he’s obviously enamored with.”

They both stood blinking at Wei-wei, who regarded them with a smug look before turning back to the poem. Bai Huang’s hand stole around hers.

“I am,” he whispered. “Enamored with you.”

She looked at him and her breath caught in her throat. When she closed her eyes, then opened them, he was still there. This was no illusion. He was solid and real beside her.

“Why do the scholars write on the walls?” Wei-wei asked, interrupting the moment.

“Because we want our thoughts to be immortalized. The entire quarter serves as a monument to our cleverness,” he replied dryly.

She touched her fingers to the calligraphy. “I think it’s fascinating.”

“You should watch your sister closely,” Yue-ying warned. “She may run away and register herself as a courtesan.”

Wei-wei sniffed. “What if I did?”

There was no answer. Bai Huang had gone quiet as he stared at the characters painted onto the wall beneath his sister’s hand.

“The ink was still fresh,” he muttered to himself. “She had been writing something that night.”

“Lord Bai?”

Wei-wei joined in, “Elder Brother?”

He looked up at them, but his gaze was far away. “Huilan told me she had information. Father was known for hunting down pirates and smugglers. Huilan came to me not because she thought I was trustworthy, but because she knew about our father.”

“Why speak of this now? Huilan’s spirit is at peace,” Yue-ying said. It was bad luck to speak of the dead. She wasn’t always so superstitious, but, with their match being such an unlikely one, she didn’t want to take any chances.

“I don’t think Huilan is at peace yet, but she soon will be,” he said darkly. He turned to Wei-wei. “If Mother asks for me, tell her I needed to attend to an important matter and I’ll be back shortly. Yue-ying as well.”

“Scandalous,” Wei-wei huffed beneath her breath.

Bai Huang’s expression softened as he turned to her. “Come with me, Yue-ying. We started this together—let’s finish this together.”

* * *

S
OFT
MUSIC
FLOATED
from the windows of the House of a Hundred Songs and Madame Lui answered the door herself.

“Lord Bai, it’s been too long!” she greeted warmly. Yue-ying received the barest of nods, a greeting that was considerably less warm. “So the news must be true. I must offer my best wishes for your happiness.”

Despite her words, Madame Lui made no effort to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that after Huilan’s unfortunate death, he would have given his attentions to another one of the courtesans in the Hundred Songs.

The headmistress started to seat them and offer tea, but Huang interrupted her. As rude as it might seem, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Huilan’s murderer had gone unpunished for too long as it was.

“This may be impertinent to ask, but may I see Huilan’s chamber once more?” he asked.

They followed Madame up the stairs to the room at the corner. Inside, the furniture had been rearranged and the walls were covered with draperies.

“We hired a Taoist priest to come and exorcise any evil spirits that lingered,” she explained. “Afterward, I offered the chamber to Mei, but she refused to sleep here, so two of the younger girls share it. They feel less afraid staying here together.”

For a moment, Huang feared that all of the writing on the wall had been scrubbed away. He pulled aside one of the draperies and was relieved to see the calligraphy was still there. Starting at one end, he searched methodically beneath each curtain until he had circled the room.

“What are you looking for?” Yue-ying asked.

“When I came to Huilan’s chamber the night of her death, there was an ink stone and brush set out in the sitting room. I assumed that she had written a letter the night of her death, but it had been taken or destroyed by her killer.”

He scanned the characters on the wall and a chill ran down his spine. The brushstrokes were hastily executed, likely put in place by a hand that was trembling.

“Madame Lui, can you call Mei in here?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the calligraphy.

Because Bai Huang was who he was, the headmistress disappeared immediately to see to his request.

Yue-ying came to stand beside him. “What does it say?”

“These two lines are from a famous poem.” He traced a finger down the two columns on the right. “But from here, it becomes nonsensical. These characters have no meaning when put together like this.”

“Lord Bai, did you wish to see me?” Mei stood in the doorway with Madame Lui just behind her.

“Come in.”

The courtesan hesitated as he beckoned her forward. Finally, with a fortifying breath, she stepped into the room. Her gown was yellow in color with embroidered trim that looked like peach blossoms. Her hair was swept up and pinned in a romantic style and jewels sparkled like dewdrops throughout it. With Huilan no longer there, Mei was the Hundred Songs’s most celebrated courtesan and she was dressed for the part.

“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken,” Huang began.

He gestured toward one of the stools and she hesitated before sitting down. He sat down next to her and affected a smile. “Madame Lui mentioned that you refused this room. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Little Mei.”

Yue-ying made a coughing noise and shot him a quick, but pointed look. He continued in a less flirtatious manner, not that the courtesan noticed his attempt at charm. She was picking at the edge of her sleeve and her eyes darted away from his.

“You’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?” he asked.

“Lord Bai,” Yue-ying scolded. “Don’t frighten her.”

Mei gave her a grateful look and relaxed a bit. “I’m not afraid. This room always feels a little cold when I pass by it, that’s all.”

“You and Huilan were friends, were you not?”

“Like sisters.”

“After the dragonboat festival, you were both hosting a party in the banquet room. Then Huilan left to go up to her chamber, while you remained with the guests.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And you never left the room.”

“No...never.”

The answer came after the barest of pauses.

“Not even for a moment?” he demanded.

“Maybe for just a moment. But not long at all!” she amended.

“Did you go to meet someone?” Yue-ying chimed in. “With so many guests coming and going, festivals provide plenty of opportunity for couples to meet in secret.”

Mei’s gaze darted to Madame Lui, then back to him. “Why are you causing trouble for me?”

“This is for Huilan’s sake. She has been gone for a year now. It’s time to make peace with her spirit.”

“I left to meet with a friend. He came to the back door and we only spoke for a short amount of time. He was only
a friend
,” Mei said fiercely.

Madame Lui was listening to the conversation with her mouth pressed tight in disapproval. As soon as they were finished, Madame Lui came and took hold of her elbow. With a sharp tug, she led her foster daughter from the room.

“That was the young man that Constable Wu assumed was you,” Yue-ying realized.

Huang nodded and stood to face her. “And I don’t believe Mei and her friend merely talked.”

Mei’s corroboration wasn’t strictly necessary, but it served as another piece of a puzzle that was rapidly coming together. While the young courtesan was enjoying a tryst with her secret lover, anyone from the banquet could have slipped away and then returned.

“What does this have to do with the strange characters on the wall?”

“They aren’t strange at all, actually. It’s called
Idu
script,” he explained. “Used by the Kingdom of Silla as well as the other two kingdoms of the Goryeo empire. The characters look just like our
hanzi
characters, but they have a different sound and meaning. An unwanted visitor came to the Hundred Songs that night and Huilan excused herself to her room, hoping to flee.”

Yue-ying’s eyes grew wide. “The writing on the wall—”

“Reveals the name of Huilan’s murderer. She was trapped in her room and helpless, yet still she managed to expose him before joining her ancestors.”

“I think you’re wrong about one thing,” Yue-ying said after he read the name out to her along with the accusation Huilan had inscribed. “She wasn’t a helpless victim. Huilan’s family had been murdered by slave traders. It wasn’t enough for her to rescue the child. The silver I found in the temple was payment. She was demanding money to remain silent. That’s why she said nothing. Huilan meant to bleed him dry before making her escape. And then she would have denounced him anyway.” Yue-ying studied the calligraphy before them. “She wanted revenge and now she finally has it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A
SIZABLE
CROWD
gathered by the lone willow tree in the corner of the East Market. The sentence had been proclaimed the day before. Ma Jun, the former East Market Commissioner, was charged with corruption, smuggling, kidnapping and murder. His appointment was a lowly one without much in the way of wealth or status, but Ma had turned the East Market into his domain, growing rich by taking bribes and a cut of the illegal profits. But he’d become greedy, letting in bandits and outlaws indiscriminately until he had no choice but to become one of them to maintain order. The bandits who had been executed a year ago were Ma Jun’s hirelings, sent to protect his interests by silencing Hana.

Huang waited near the front of the crowd. Beside him stood Tse-kang, Huilan’s young scholar. A solemn look pulled at the corners of his mouth and eyes, aging him beyond his years.

“If only we had left the city together earlier,” the young man said softly.

“Huilan sacrificed herself so that he would be brought to justice,” Huang told him.

Justice sounded more honorable than bloody revenge, but either way Ma Jun would pay for his crimes. It was only fitting that Huang see this to the end since Huilan’s eyes were closed forever. This case had taken on such meaning for him. It wasn’t only because of how it had brought Yue-ying and him together, nor was it his newfound attachment to the inhabitants of the Pingkang li.

It was because he had experienced his own encounter with death when Gao had spared him. He didn’t deserve to survive any more than Huilan had deserved to die. For that, he owed. This was atonement.

A murmur rose over the crowd. The prison wagon had appeared at the end of the street. Ma Jun was locked in a cage, the top of it closing over his shoulders to leave his head exposed. A vertical placard was attached to the iron collar around his neck, detailing his crimes in bold black characters. He had been stripped of his clothing other than a pale gray tunic that clung to his body. As the wagon proceeded he was pelted by rocks and rubbish.

Once the procession reached the square, the executioner opened the lock and positioned the prisoner onto his knees before the crowd. The charges and sentence were read aloud once more for all to hear.

Huang watched Ma Jun’s face as the executioner removed the placard and tossed it in the dirt. The former official’s eyes were flat and lifeless as the heavy broadsword swung downward. His head fell like a stone to the dirt while his body remained kneeling. It slumped over a moment after.

Tse-kang looked away, his hand pressed to his mouth. Huang reached out to clasp his shoulder.

“It’s done,” he said quietly. “Huilan’s spirit is finally at peace.”

* * *

B
AI
F
UREN
AND
M
INGYU
had chosen a day in the late summer, after the downpour of the plum rains and past the height of the banquet season. The first part of the celebration occurred in the Pingkang li as Lord Bai came with the wedding sedan to retrieve his bride. The ladies of the quarter came out into the streets to watch as the wedding procession went by accompanied by the crash of cymbals and gongs. Was this not every singsong girl and courtesan’s dream?

After a brief ceremony at the Lotus Palace, Yue-ying said farewell to Mingyu, Old Auntie, Madame Sun and the other courtesans and disappeared into the sedan to be taken to her new family.

The true celebration was at the Bai mansion where over three hundred guests had been invited. Yue-ying missed most of it as she was ushered away to the wedding chamber. The bridal bed was carved from dark wood with a canopy arching overhead and draped with red sheets. A lantern was placed on either side of it to represent their union.

She was waiting for hours before Bai Huang came to the wedding chamber, escorted by a rowdy entourage from the banquet. Once they were alone and the well-wishers had retreated, he gently removed the pins from her hair. His hand paused on the hairpin ornamented with a luminous moonstone, which he had gifted to her once more upon their engagement.

As he pulled it away her hair fell to her shoulders. It was the first time Yue-ying had truly felt naked before him. He removed the rest of her clothes without a word, with only the sound of their breathing punctuating the silence. They made love with the glow of the twin lanterns surrounding them.

Afterward she put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his throat, so filled with emotion that she was afraid to look at him. The act of coupling was different, very different, with a husband.

But the night was far from over. An hour later, Yue-ying lay on her stomach, head rested on her arms while Bai Huang traced a character onto her back.

“Do it again,” she implored. “Slower this time.”

He obliged her. His fingertip made a stroke across her spine, followed by two short dabs beneath it, then she lost track as his touch danced over her. She was squirming by the time he finished. It tickled.

“I can’t figure it out,” she confessed.

“It’s the character for ‘ai’.”

Love.

She twisted around to face him. “Why is it so complicated?”

He smiled lazily, lowering himself beside her and propping himself up on one elbow. “Because love is complicated.”

“I didn’t even know that character before,” she complained.

“You do now.”

Her heart did a little leap as he bent and placed a kiss onto her shoulder. Then he touched a hand to her cheek, looking at her as if he never wanted to turn away.

“You’re beautiful, wife.”

When he said it like that, she felt beautiful. There was no need for her to flinch or avert her eyes. She didn’t need to hide any longer.

“You’re beautiful, husband.”

At first she had thought of him only as that: a handsome face, clothed in wealth and privilege, as far removed from her world as the moon and stars. But she was here and he was here, and he was smiling at her as if she were something infinitely precious.

This was the beginning of things. She finally believed it in her heart.

“Write another one,” she implored.

“With pleasure,” her husband replied with a mischievous grin.

He blew out the lanterns, one and then the other, and Yue-ying laughed as his clever fingers drew a new pattern tenderly over her skin.

* * * * *