Welcome to the infamous Pingkang li—home of the celebrated Lotus Palace courtesans, and a place of beauty and treachery…

Charming and seductive, Mingyu is the most sought-after hostess in the pleasure quarter. She has all men wrapped around her finger—except Constable Wu Kaifeng, the one man she can’t resist, the only man to have placed her in chains.

Wu Kaifeng’s outwardly intimidating demeanor hides a reluctant, fierce attraction to beautiful Mingyu. But the passionate temptation she presents threatens to destroy them both when a powerful official is murdered and they find themselves on a deadly trail. Amid the chaos, a forbidden affair could change Mingyu’s fate forever, for following her heart is bound to have consequences.…

Praise for Jeannie Lin

“Wonderfully adventurous love stories set in ancient China, brimming with atmosphere, customs, language and history without missing a deeply emotional love story at the core… Lin proves that, quite simply, she is an exceptional storyteller.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Lotus Palace

“[Lin is] known for building plenty of historical verisimilitude into [her] romances, giving them intellectual as well as emotional depth.”

—Publishers Weekly, Top 10 pick, on The Lotus Palace

“The Lotus Palace by Jeannie Lin is a sensual romance and a gripping mystery story, but is also a moving portrayal of the women and men who socialize in the bordellos of Tang dynasty China.”

—Goodreads.com on The Lotus Palace

“Deliciously detailed and intricately plotted, The Lotus Palace proves Jeannie Lin is a master storyteller.”

—New York Times bestselling author Deanna Raybourn

“Lush history, heartbreaking romance, fascinating mystery, and a happy ending! What more can anyone ask?”

—Patricia Rice, New York Times bestselling author, on The Lotus Palace

“Jeannie Lin has done it again….The Lotus Palace is a poignant love story to treasure.”

—Elizabeth Essex, award-winning author of Scandal in the Night, on The Lotus Palace

“The Lotus Palace is pure entertainment.”

—Midwest Book Reviews on The Lotus Palace

The Jade Temptress

Jeannie Lin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

While writing the previous book, The Lotus Palace, Mingyu and Constable Wu Kaifeng played an important role. I already knew from their early interactions that something was brewing under the surface between them. It was also a pleasure to return to the entertainment district of the Pingkang li. The setting has provided me with endless inspiration.

For history buffs, the crime featured in The Jade Temptress was based on a popular tale of the Pingkang li. Mingyu’s conduct and her relationship with her patrons as well as her foster mother was also a composite of many different accounts of the courtesans who entertained within the quarter. The source for much of this was Sun Qi’s Records of the Northern Quarter, which was written in the later Tang Dynasty.

For mystery buffs, Wu Kaifeng’s forensic knowledge was based on case records of criminal investigations from as early as the Han Dynasty and through to the Tang Dynasty. The most prominent treatise on Chinese forensics in imperial China is physician Song Ci’s The Washing Away of Wrongs, which was written later in the thirteenth century. However, given that many of the earlier case records included detail about forensics investigations, I took some liberty and extrapolated that these processes of autopsy and crime scene recreation were likely, or at least believably, in place in some form during the Tang Dynasty.

In essence, Mingyu is an artist who specializes in invoking and manipulating emotion, while Kaifeng is a man of logic who is searching for discreet answers. Their romance, for me, was at times as unpredictable as the mystery they had to solve.

To contact me or to learn more about the background of the story or upcoming releases, you can find me online at www.jeannielin.com. I always love hearing from readers.

Sincerely,

Jeannie Lin

Acknowledgments

This book owes a huge debt of gratitude to my husband for his support and patience whenever there was a deadline looming. A huge thanks to my critique partner and partner in crime, Shawntelle Madison, for all the pep-talks and writing sprints to keep me going when I was running on empty. Also to Amanda Berry, Dawn Blankenship and Kristi Lea for the Skype chats and emotional support. A big thanks to Megan Kelly and CORE for allowing me to vet out the opening chapter and setting me on the right path.

As always, I must acknowledge Bria Quinlan, Inez Kelley and Kate Pearce for being ready and willing to read the ugly draft and tell me how to make it all better rather than letting me torch it like I want to.

To my editor Laurie Johnson, thank you for all your support and enthusiasm in this first venture together. Thank you to my agent and cheerleader Gail Fortune for making it so I can keep on writing.

And a special acknowledgment to Sunita for lending me the research book from Washington University. The information within it has been priceless. I STILL haven’t returned it yet. I promise I will.

To my wonderful husband and two little twinlets

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

Tang Dynasty China, 848 A.D.

WU KAIFENG LOOKED over the property from the street. For years it had been abandoned, the remnants from a fire that had raged through the capital city of Changan. Parts of the damaged area had been rebuilt, but not this building. Apparently, the two-story structure had once been a teahouse, but now it was nothing more than a hollow shell located just beyond the edge of the bustling East Market. Undesirable.

Yet he had passed by that same location every day for the past week. Where others saw only a ruin, Kaifeng saw something else. He saw possibilities. With his position as head constable, he was earning a humble, yet steady wage. Maybe it was time to stop wandering. The dark corners and alleyways of Changan hid so many secrets; they could hide him, as well.

The market gong sounded the Hour of the Goat. The afternoon was upon him and it was time to return from his rounds. Kaifeng set a path through the East Market, but was stopped by a man charging through the crowd, his clothes stained with blood.

The stranger brandished a cleaver as he chased a lanky youth down the street. All of the surrounding market-goers stepped aside, but Kaifeng moved forward to block the street. The fellow at the front staggered to avoid crashing into him. His eyes grew wide as he stared up at Kaifeng’s considerable height, then the black cap and robe of his uniform, then at the sword in his belt.

This mixture of shock and fear wasn’t uncommon. Constable Wu needed no special effort to appear menacing. He supposed it was a gift, given his position.

“I didn’t do anything!” the youth protested.

Kaifeng flicked his gaze over to the armed man who had come to a stop. He gestured with his knife. “He’s a thief, Constable.”

The bloodstained garment was an apron. The weapon, a meat cleaver. It was the local butcher, not some madman.

The young man, who was looking more and more like a half-starved boy, started babbling. “I was just walking in the street. He started chasing me with that knife. Of course I ran.”

“He took money from my counter.”

“I was never in your shop!”

Kaifeng let the arguments fly without responding. He could drag both the accused thief and the butcher before Magistrate Li and let him settle the matter, but the line of petitioners at the tribunal had wound around the offices like a snake earlier that day.

“Empty your pouch,” he directed.

The butcher stood by, cleaver lowered but still gripped menacingly as the boy showed the pouch at his belt and his sleeves to be empty. Kaifeng was not yet satisfied.

“Shoes.”

The youth hesitated before reaching to take off his left shoe. There were two copper coins lying inside.

“To keep from thieves,” he said sheepishly. “I earned that money unloading wagons in the market.”

“Liar,” the butcher accused through his teeth. “Those were the same coins from my shop.”

Kaifeng regarded both of them without blinking. The matter seemed a simple one. The boy was acting guilty. He protested too quickly and too loudly. He’d hidden his money. He was fidgeting as he spoke and was unable to keep his gaze steady.

If taken before the magistrate, the money would be confiscated and returned to the butcher, the boy given a beating with the light rod and then the matter dismissed afterward. It wasn’t a constable’s duty to mete justice, but no one would fault him for resolving this dispute and sending the thief away with a public beating. It was only two copper coins, after all.

But Kaifeng knew that two coins could very well mean the difference between a full belly and an empty one. A warm night or a cold one.

The supposed thief was shifting about, now with only one shoe on, the other foot bare and unwashed, looking all the more guilty—or perhaps it wasn’t guilt at all. Merely fear.

“Pick up the money,” Kaifeng instructed. “And put your shoe back on.”

The butcher started to protest, but Kaifeng told him to lead them back to his shop. The youth didn’t attempt to flee and he walked head down between the butcher and the constable as they went down the lane. Bystanders watched the parade curiously, but none came forward to offer any further insight into the incident. Typical of the imperial city. One’s business was one’s own.

The copper smell of blood met them at the far end of the lane. They passed by vendors selling live chickens and fish in baskets along the avenue. The butcher’s shop was one of the largest in this section of the market, though it was hidden away in the corner. It was a wooden shack, open in front so that the various cuts and portions could be visible from the street.

An assistant, likely the butcher’s son, was still busy at work. The shop was full of customers looking to purchase the day’s meal. The long wooden cutting block that served as counter was stained dark and scored, and there was an assortment of freshly butchered cuts on display.

“I work back there,” the butcher said. “Customers drop their payment here onto the block and I push all the money into this basket.”

So no one would have to touch hands with him. Butchery was an unsavory, yet profitable trade.

“We were busy like we are now and this thief shoved through the crowd and grabbed the coins from the counter before I could stop him.”

“I’m not a thief,” the youth protested sullenly. He looked like a convict awaiting execution. His shoulders were sunken and his face resigned. Being accused was enough to be condemned and he had both age and status against him.

Where the butcher was well-fed and a successful tradesman, the accused was thin in the face, his chin smooth and his body not yet broadened into manhood. His clothes had been carefully mended many times. He claimed to have labored in the market to earn his coins, which would have meant he had been hard at work since daybreak to earn so much so early in the day.

Kaifeng could have spent the rest of the day questioning merchants to confirm his story, but it would have been no use. In the sprawl of the East Market were too many wagons, too many merchants and too many boys just like this.

“Bring two bowls of fresh water,” Kaifeng told the butcher.

The butcher stared at him, put out by being ordered about. A constable was far from an appointed official and ranked no higher than a tradesman. Kaifeng stared back, unwavering. The butcher finally set down his cleaver and disappeared into the back of the shop. He returned a moment later with two clay bowls and set them onto the counter.

Kaifeng turned to the youth who still had his coppers clutched in his hand. “Put your coins into the first bowl.”

The boy did as he was told. The butcher as well as the other customers watched as the coins sank to the bottom. Kaifeng then instructed the butcher to take a few coins from his basket and drop them into the second bowl. As the coins fell into the water, streaks of grease and blood shimmered over the surface. The water in the first bowl remained clear.

“The coins belong to him, or rather, they never belonged to you,” Kaifeng declared, then turned to leave the shop.

“But I saw him!” the butcher protested.

“Your earnings have remnants of grease and blood from being on the butcher block. His cash is free of any such residue.”

The youth stuffed his coins into his pouch. He spared Kaifeng a nod of gratitude as he rushed from shop and scurried away.

“You saw someone,” Kaifeng said to the butcher. “But it wasn’t this boy. If I find the thief, I’ll take him to the magistrate. In the meantime, keep a closer watch on your money. Your carelessness invites thievery.”

* * *

THE TWO GUARDSMEN at the front gate of the magistrate’s yamen stood aside as Kaifeng approached. Their spears remained at their sides as he entered.

The compound contained the offices of the many clerks and functionaries who served the head magistrate. At the center of the yamen was the tribunal hall where petitioners and criminals alike knelt before the magistrate to await judgment. At the back were the dismal holding cells where the accused stayed to await either a hearing or execution.

The sun hung low in the late afternoon, casting long shadows over the courtyard. The tribunal appeared to have convened early, which was unusual. In the imperial capital there was always some dispute that needed to be resolved, regardless of the time of day.

Kaifeng went to the head magistrate’s office, but found the door closed and the shutters drawn. He knocked twice before entering.

“I apologize for my late arrival,” he began.

Li Yen caught Kaifeng’s eye from behind his desk and held up his hand in an impatient gesture. Magistrate Li was not alone at his desk. An official wearing a state robe and a stern expression sat opposite him.

It was that elder official who broke the silence. “I trust you will take care of the matter, Magistrate.”

With that, the official rose and bowed. Li did the same; his bow dipping below his visitor’s to denote his lower rank. Kaifeng supposed he should have bowed, as well, but the official didn’t pause to accept any such gesture of civility. He spared Kaifeng a disapproving glance as he brushed past.

Li invited him to sit. “This is not good news, Wu. That was a representative from the Ministry of Personnel on an unofficial visit.”

Kaifeng regarded him unblinking. “Unofficial?”

“He suggested that you be dismissed.”

The news struck him like a blow to the gut. Not only was it unexpected, it was irrational. Kaifeng lowered himself into a chair as he tried to collect his thoughts. “I’ve performed my duties without fail.”

“I know you have, Wu.” Li rubbed a hand over his temples, looking even more youthful in his bewilderment. “You’ve been exceptional. He gave no reason for this demand, only that there were others of more notable rank that were in agreement.”

“Why would anyone of rank even know of me?”

“It seems we’ve angered someone.”

Kaifeng kept his tone even. “Then I am no longer employed?”

Less than an hour ago, he had been dreaming of laying down roots in the city. Before coming to Changan, he had been scraping together a coin here and there. Then Li had offered him the position as head constable. Kaifeng had thought he could make a new life here.

Magistrate Li regarded him for a long time. “Who have you offended, Wu?”

“No one that I know of.”

“Are you certain?”

“Criminals feel accosted when they’re caught,” he offered. His was a hated position, without doubt.

Li snorted, then folded his hands before him while his brow furrowed in thought. The magistrate’s features were often described as boyish, which was not a compliment for someone of authority. He was famous for not only passing the imperial exams at an early age, but passing in the third spot. Apparently among the elite this was a source of bitterness and envy as much as admiration.

“You did not answer the question, Magistrate,” Kaifeng interrupted. “Am I to be dismissed?”

“No, of course not.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did so.”

“Dismissing you would be the same as cutting off my own hand. I need you, Wu. More important, I owe you a debt.”

“You know that debt was settled long ago, sir.”

They rarely spoke of the incident that had first brought them together. They spoke no more of it now.

“What if this current demand is not to target you, but to attack me?” Li posed. “I certainly have more enemies than you do on my name alone.”

“There was the case with the slave trading ring last year,” Kaifeng suggested. “There were enough people involved for us to offend someone. A lot of dirtied hands.”

A murder had turned into two murders which had turned into a conspiracy.

“You may have something there, Constable. The case was resolved, but perhaps not to everyone’s satisfaction. Such political games are a consequence of living in the capital. Be careful, Wu. Someone wants both of us removed.”

Li Yen was a good read of people and situations, but only of the sort of people and situations he knew very intimately—those of the scholarly elite. Magistrate Li was at a loss when it came to commoners and life among the lanes and alleys. It made their partnership a balanced one. Apparently it took knowledge of politics and the street to survive in this city.

CHAPTER TWO

MINGYU LAID HER head back and let the evening breeze flow over her cheeks as the carriage rolled forward. The air was cool and calming in the final hour before dusk. Drums beat in rhythm throughout the quarter to signal the closing of the official city markets. It was time for merchants to close shop, for city dwellers to make their final purchases and return home.

The silence afterward was a resting period before the drinking houses set out their lanterns and the banquets began. For now, the streets were dim and vacant and Mingyu could watch the pattern of the trees against the buildings.

Summer was gone and autumn was here. The celebration banquet season was over and now began the time when graduates of the imperial exams vied for official assignments. The parties at this time were more intimate affairs where introductions and connections could be made.

“You are beautiful tonight, Elder Sister.”

Little Hong’s eyes glowed with admiration as she looked covetously over Mingyu’s silk robe and the jewels in her hair. The girl was eleven years of age that year, a good time as any to begin her training. They were sisters by profession, not blood. Both of them belonged to the same foster mother.

“Are we going far tonight?” Hong asked.

“Not far. The gathering is at a public garden in the northern part of the ward.”

“Will there be many gentlemen there?”

“Yes.”

Little Hong brightened. “Distinguished scholars? Men of high rank?”

“Of course.”

Little Hong leaned over, looking left and right to try to take in the sights around them. They had just left the main section of the Pingkang li, where most of the pleasure houses were located and where the two of them resided.

“Be mindful of the pipa,” Mingyu said gently when she saw how the girl had the strings pressed against the side of the carriage. “The guests will be very disappointed if I cannot play tonight.”

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry, Elder Sister.”

Hong settled back down into her seat, cradling the instrument in her lap. To the girl, this trip must have seemed like freedom. The courtesans of the Lotus Palace were only allowed to leave if hired out for an event or by special permission.

Mingyu had been in her place once, but it seemed so long ago. Now she was part of the cycle, training another girl into the life: bondage and servitude on one side, poetry and music on the other.

Shops and buildings flowed by on either side of them like an endless river. Mingyu closed her eyes again only to be jolted forward when the carriage lurched to a stop. Little Hong yelped beside her and clutched the pipa to her chest. As they righted themselves, Mingyu could hear the driver yelling at someone.

A boy dressed in ill-fitting rags crouched beside the front wheel. He whimpered as the driver shouted.

“What are you doing, boy? Get out of the street!” The driver made a threatening motion with his crop, but the child remained in the dirt with his hands clutched around his knee.

“Uncle.” Mingyu deliberately used the familiar honorific to address the driver. “Uncle, the boy is terrified.”

“Don’t be fooled, Miss. This street scum is just playing the victim.” He glared back at the boy. “Get up, runt.”

“Are you hurt, child?” She rose to step down from the carriage, holding the edge of her robe away from the dirt as she bent down.

“Be careful,” the driver warned from behind her. “He looks ready to snatch your purse.”

The boy looked nothing of the sort. He stared up at Mingyu with eyes as large as quail eggs. There was a smudge of dirt across one cheek and his bottom lip trembled.

At that moment, an ominous shadow fell over Mingyu, engulfing both her and the child.

“The carriage driver is right. The boy is pretending.”

The deep gravel of the voice set the hairs of her neck on edge. Mingyu let her mask fall in place before straightening to greet the newcomer.

“Constable Wu.”

“Lady Mingyu.”

She hated to be seen lowered before anyone, most of all this demon. His skin was bronzed from being out in the sun like a common laborer and his demeanor was darker still, black as night. Wu Kaifeng towered head and shoulders over her, as he did over everyone in the quarter. Most found him intimidating, but her reaction was much more alarming. She had been drawn to him from her very first sight of the constable. Wu was not a man to be ignored and certainly not a man who could be wooed simply by her beauty or reputation.

When Mingyu had been imprisoned over a year ago on suspicion of murder, Wu had been her jailer. Though she was cleared of any wrongdoing, she’d never forgotten his bleak expression as he’d questioned her or his unyielding touch as he’d bound her hands.

Mingyu tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, refusing to show any fear of him now. “Thank you for your assistance, Constable, but it won’t be needed. Unless you wish to arrest this child for being unfortunate enough to be injured by our carriage.”

“The boy is lying,” Wu repeated. “I saw him hiding on this very corner the other day, watching as you drove by.”

She turned toward the urchin. “Can you stand?”

Mingyu offered her hand, but the boy shook his head feverishly and struggled to his feet by himself.

A wagon carrying baskets of produce had to veer to the side while their carriage was stopped in the middle of the road. Mingyu ignored it and focused on the poor creature in front of her.

“Where are your father and mother?”

“You are very kind, Miss,” he murmured.

The driver snorted loudly.

“He’s luring you in,” Wu Kaifeng stated.

Funny that the constable would assume she was naive. Mingyu had grown up in this quarter. It was her domain and she wasn’t sheltered from the realities of the crowded capital. She knew what her life would have been if Madame Sun hadn’t purchased her and provided for her. There was the street or the brothel.

Maintaining her pleasant expression, Mingyu opened the drawstring on her silk bag and fished out a few coins to press into the boy’s hand. “Be careful, little one. Go home now.”

The little rat at least affected a slight limp as he ran off into the alley.

“He’s on the next street over now, begging coins out of another soft-heart.” Wu wasn’t smug or snide or superior as he said it. He was just as he was—hard and without emotion.

“No one has ever accused me of being soft-hearted, Constable.” She faced him to make sure she had his full attention. “I know that boy was watching me the other day. I also know he wasn’t the only one watching.”

Wu Kaifeng started at her insinuation, but recovered quickly. His expression became once again impenetrable.

Indeed, she had also seen the constable at the roadside stand, staring at her with something akin to interest. No, that wasn’t possible. More like a bird of prey sighting a mouse. Her pulse had quickened at the single glimpse.

“Of course, the constable must believe that he’s entitled to stare for as long as he pleases,” Mingyu taunted. “Everyone else seems to think so, as if I were a painting on the wall.”

“It’s difficult to look at you,” he admitted with a bluntness that stole her breath.

“Meaning?” she asked.

His gaze remained focused on her face, but an odd light flickered in his eyes. Reflexively, her hand flew to her throat before she caught herself. It was a bad habit, a show of weakness.

Curling her fingers tight, Mingyu let the hand drop to her side. “If there’s nothing else.”

She didn’t realize until she spoke that her throat had gone dry. She was almost to the carriage when Wu stopped her.

“There is—”

She turned around.

“—something else,” he finished, his speech off rhythm by just enough to make her uneasy.

He was the one who was difficult to look at. His face lacked any refinement. Wu Kaifeng wasn’t ugly—he was more like a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. There was no harmony to him, no sense of balance. Wu was long in the face, broad in the nose. The eyes were black and hard and unwavering. A sharp jawline framed his hard mouth, a mouth that she had never seen smile. Yet when all of those features were put together, they created a picture that was inexplicably striking.

“Someone wishes to have me dismissed,” he began.

“What could that possibly have to do with me?”

“You do not like me.”

She didn’t disagree.

“Most of the people I deal with are people from the streets—beggars, thieves, the poor stealing from the poor,” Wu continued. “Those who are caught doing wrong do not dare to bear a grudge, but you—”

“I was found innocent,” she interrupted.

“Your actions were not condemned,” he corrected. “It occurs to me that many of your patrons are men of rank and influence.”

Mingyu laughed in disbelief. “You think I’m out to destroy you by complaining to my lovers?”

The corners of his mouth tightened at her mention of lovers and Mingyu felt a small triumph at being able to pierce his armored shell.

“You needn’t worry, Constable,” she assured, her voice as soft as the breeze. “You must imagine after all that has occurred between us that I stay up late at night, bearing a grudge and plotting your downfall.”

She continued toward the carriage, feeling his gaze on her the entire way. Once she was seated, Mingyu was able to look down upon him from higher ground to deliver her final message. “But why would I waste any time thinking of you at all?”

CHAPTER THREE

MINGYU HELD HER sleeve back with one hand as she poured the hot water into the bowl. Keeping her eyes lowered, she washed and warmed each of the porcelain cups before setting them back onto the tray. A group of four scholars watched her as she performed the tea ritual in so many little perfect steps, all in sequence.

She liked the ritual. For once, her parlor was quiet. There were no voices competing for attention; reciting the classics or a newly composed verse of poetry as they tried to emerge as the cleverest. For once, she didn’t have to speak, either. She didn’t have to smile or laugh or exchange furtive glances.

All she had to do was follow the ritual, concentrate on the breaking of the tea brick into the pot, the washing of the cups, the pouring of the tea. The ceremony was sacred to the scholar-gentlemen who frequented the Lotus Palace. They had all read the Classic of Tea and aspired to cultivate the thoughtfulness and meditative state that only tea could bring about. Wine was for the freeing of the spirit. Tea was for focusing it.

She placed a cup within reach of each of the visitors. There was a department head from the Ministry of Defense as well as a ranking captain of the city garrison. Though a soldier, he was indistinguishable here from any other gentleman. The remaining two were hopefuls seeking placement after passing the civil exams.

The men took their cups in both hands and drank in reverent silence. Mingyu folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze lowered. She didn’t drink with them. She was an implement in this ritual, like the clay teapot or the cups.

She almost dreaded the moment the most senior member of the party would finish his cup and break the silence. It was easy being a silent fixture. Almost freeing.

“Ah, so serious!”

All heads turned at once toward the entrance. A figure had emerged through the curtain, handsome and youthful in appearance with his characteristic grin on his face.

“Am I too late to join?” Bai Huang asked.

“My lord.” Mingyu was less than warm in her greeting.

“Jinshi.” The senior patrons acknowledged him with a bow and the two hopefuls looked on in awe.

Even if they didn’t recognize Bai’s name, they recognized the significance of his robe. Only scholars who had passed the highest level of the palace exams were allowed the honor of wearing those robes.

Mingyu, for her part, was not impressed. She rose as the nobleman started to engage the officials in conversation. “Lord Bai,” she began, smoothly linking her arm around his. “Madame Sun is expecting you.”

Bai Huang laughed and made his apologies about stumbling into the wrong room as she led him back out through the curtain. That was one of the privileges of being yiji, an elite courtesan. The gentlemen of the quarter tolerated her impertinence. At times, they even revered it.

“You are looking particularly beautiful today,” Lord Bai drawled.

“As beautiful as my sister?” she replied archly.

Lord Bai had married her younger sister—her real sister—Yue-ying at the end of the spring, not long after the new slate of imperial scholars had been announced. It was debatable which was more shocking, that Bai Huang, the notorious flower prince of the Pingkang li, had passed the exams or that he had taken a lowly servant with no name to speak of as his wife soon after.

“That is impossible to say, Lady Mingyu. It would be like comparing the sun and the moon.”

Bai Huang might be an imperial scholar, but he was still a fool. Or at least he attempted to play one in the pleasure quarter.

“I know why you’re here,” she told him firmly. “It’s the same reason you’ve been hovering around me for the last year.”

“Like a bee to a sweet flower,” he recited.

She released his arm and shoved him the last part of the way into the hall. “Insufferable.”

He regained his balance with hardly any effort and turned back to her. His grin faded and was replaced with a serious expression. “Did Yue-ying tell you?”

“She didn’t have to tell me.” Mingyu stood like a sentinel blocking the passage back to the parlor. “I knew your attention had to have some other purpose. You were only here seeking information.”

His gaze darted over her shoulder to assure they were alone. “There are rumors about General Deng. If there’s any truth to them, you don’t want to be associated with him.”

“I’m already associated with the general. He’s my highest-ranking patron and a most kind and generous man.” There. She had even managed to say it without making a face. “I will not allow you to spy on him any longer, or on me.”

“I hear Deng is arriving in the capital tomorrow. Has he arranged a meeting with you?”

She regarded Bai Huang blankly, saying nothing, revealing nothing.

“If I could speak with him in private,” he suggested.

“Please forgive me, Lord Bai. I’m merely a humble courtesan, not capable of providing what you require.”

Her expression remained pleasant and unassuming, but it was an unmistakable challenge.

Finally Bai sighed. “Be careful, Mingyu.”

“I always am.”

“You’re not.” His sharp look reminded her that she had spent a long time underestimating him. “You’re not careful when your heart is involved.”

His words sent a pang through her chest. “How is Yue-ying?”

Bai Huang’s expression softened. “She’s well. She misses you.”

Mingyu shook her head. She didn’t want to hear of it. She and Bai Huang were now related by marriage, though no one in the Bai family would recognize her as such. Mingyu preferred it that way. It was better for Yue-ying that she start her new life without the shadow of the past hanging over her.

“Tell her not to be sentimental. And to drink the tea I sent to her and...and take good care of her.”

“I will.”

They exchanged bows. Mingyu had been too long away from her guests already, but she took a moment longer to watch as Lord Bai retreated down the stairs. Her sister was fortunate to have found a good man to protect her.

There was a time when Mingyu had been young and vying for notoriety. She had dreamed of catching the attention of a gentleman like that, but she’d since learned that it was better to rely on her own skills for protection. Mingyu’s heart had left the quarter when her sister had left. What remained was her warrior self, which was more than capable of handling Lord Bai, General Deng and any man who sought to challenge or possess her.

* * *

“WHAT DID THE foolhardy Lord Bai wish to speak to you about, hmm?” Madame Sun sat back upon the settee and ran a manicured fingertip along the arm.

“You know how he is,” Mingyu replied absently. She busied her hands with stacking the teacups and implements back onto the tray. “This and that. Nothing of importance.”

Madame snorted. “He isn’t trying to redeem you like he did your sister, is he? He may be from a high-ranking family, but from what I hear, he’s failed to secure an appointment. He doesn’t have the money to afford my Mingyu.”

Everything was always a transaction with Madame. She was the headmistress of the Lotus Palace and foster mother to all the girls who resided there, which meant they were all indentured to her.

“I wouldn’t go with him even if he had the money,” Mingyu replied. “He is already married to my sister. Procuring me would only lead to scandal.”

“And you have more freedom here than you would ever have as a servant in a rich man’s house,” Madame added.

“Of course.” Mingyu was ever so obedient and practical. “Here we control our own fate.”

Those were Madame’s favorite words. She’d taught them to Mingyu just as she’d taught her how to play music and dance and look at a man in a way that would make him wonder. And want.

“A courier came by today on behalf of General Deng to deliver four bolts of the finest silk and a hundred taels of silver. A gift to the Lotus Palace.”

“Payment,” Mingyu corrected.

Madame Sun waved a hand, as if to say gift, payment, money—they were all the same. “He must be eager to see you. The Lotus will miss you while you’re gone.”

“How long did the contract specify?”

“At least a week, my girl. He must really be in love with you.”

Mingyu snorted, a mannerism she realized she’d adopted from her den mother, along with the same willowy figure, high cheekbones and expressive eyes Mingyu had become known for. The two of them were mirror images of one another in so many ways.

“The general doesn’t want to bother with the games of courtship, that’s all.” Mingyu reached to gather a stray teacup from the low table.

Deng Zhi was twenty years her senior. He had been stationed in the capital and an important figure in the previous Emperor’s court when Mingyu had first encountered him. She had managed to catch his interest at a banquet, but the general hadn’t bothered to court her with pretty words or gifts. He’d gone directly to Madame Sun the next day to negotiate an exclusive price.

“This is a good opportunity for us!” Madame had whispered to Mingyu as she guided her to the bed chamber where the general waited.

Always “us.” There was no Mingyu. There was Madame and there was the Lotus Palace and everything that Mingyu earned went to the house except for the personal gifts and small allowances she stashed away at the bottom of her wardrobe. It would be that way until she was able to pay off her debt.

“Wait.” Madame stopped Mingyu as she was about to carry the tea tray away. “Let me see.”

Dramatically, the headmistress poured the last dregs from a teapot into a cup and peered at the flecks of tea leaf. “You are about to face a decision. A great temptation.”

Mingyu sighed. “Mother.”

“If General Deng asks you to be his concubine once more, you must refuse,” Madame Sun instructed.

“I know. At least three times to drive the price up.”

Madame nodded with approval. “Good girl. But of course, we must make no mention of price. That would insinuate that we are open for negotiation. Let me be the villainess here. Your greedy den mother refuses to let you go.”

“Even though I hold him in the highest of regard,” Mingyu intoned.

“You think of him every day even though you know you must not,” Madame Sun suggested.

Mingyu had to smile. “Mother, you are a master.”

Madame patted her hair, visibly preening. “Experience, my daughter. Years and years of experience.”

Though they called each other mother and daughter, Mingyu never forgot the truth. She had a true mother once. Her birth mother had sold her and her sister for a small handful of coins. Madame Sun, her foster mother, would never let her go for so little. At twenty-eight, Mingyu had spent more of her life in the Lotus Palace than she had in the village of her birth.

“Is that your plan?” Mingyu asked somberly. “Once the price is high enough, you’ll negotiate a deal to sell me off to General Deng?”

“I would never do that!” Madame insisted fervently. Her hand was pressed to her bosom to express the depth of her emotion. “You’re mine, Mingyu. Like my own daughter, worth more than all the gold in the capital.”

General Deng’s payments over the past fifteen years had only bought Mingyu’s time, not her person. And Madame Sun had been generous enough to grant Mingyu a portion of her earnings, enough to finally redeem her sister, Yue-ying.

As much as Mingyu owed Deng, she had breathed a long, deep sigh the day he’d finally left Changan to serve as military governor in a remote province. Whenever Deng returned to the city, there was no question that Mingyu was to return to his side. She prepared for it as if preparing for battle.

“Do you wish to go?” Madame asked her.

“I would never leave you,” Mingyu replied, equally emphatic. She touched a reassuring hand to the headmistress’s arm. “The Lotus Palace is my home.”

Madame Sun regarded her with a sharp eye, trying to pierce through the illusion created by silk and jewels and powder. Perhaps they both lied to one another. Perhaps they both knew it.

CHAPTER FOUR

IN THE DAYS after his brief exchange with Mingyu there were no more visits, official or unofficial, and no more talk of dismissal. Kaifeng continued with his duties as prescribed, but remained on guard. When a scraggly figure appeared at the end of the street during his morning patrol, Kaifeng’s defenses were immediately raised.

The boy was panting when he came to a stop before Kaifeng. “Are you Constable Wu?”

“Yes,” he replied warily.

“Come quick.”

Kaifeng remained where he was, staring down at the street rat. The child would have to be a bold one to try to lure an armed constable into some trap. The boy paled beneath his scrutiny. “Please, sir.”

Kaifeng started toward him, but the boy turned to weave through the pedestrians.

“What is this?” Wu demanded, following easily with his long stride.

The boy shook his head and kept on moving, twisting through alleyways and side streets as he led Kaifeng farther away from the main market. Just north of the walls was a residential area dotted with small tea stands. They passed by a public bathhouse and a local temple on the corner.

Finally the boy came to a stop at a wooden gate. “Here, sir.”

It was clear that he didn’t intend to enter and Kaifeng once again considered the possibility of a trap. The gate was plain and unmarked. Kaifeng pushed it open to reveal a small, empty courtyard graced by a single willow tree. Its branches dipped to form a canopy over the space. The interior of the house was still and quiet.

Kaifeng didn’t reach for his sword, but he made sure his hands were ready as he entered the courtyard. The walking path was laid with stone and kept tidy. There was one entrance into the main part of the house and Kaifeng ducked beneath the doorway to find himself inside a spacious room.

Light filtered in from the courtyard. The first thing he saw was a desk in the corner, followed by a violent splatter of red. It took a moment for his mind to register it. Blood.

“I found him like that.”

He spun around at the voice. Lady Mingyu was pressed into the corner beside the window. Her usually sensual voice came out thin and strained. She looked entirely different from when he’d last seen her. Her lips had been tinted red and her complexion was moon pale in contrast, giving her an unearthly appearance. Even scared out of her wits, she presented a vision.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head, though her eyes appeared dull. She clutched a silk handkerchief in her hand as if her life depended on it.

Kaifeng left her in the corner to approach the desk. At his first glimpse of the scene, his mind had receded. His natural instincts refused to accept or understand that what he was seeing was real, but he forced himself to look closely now.

There was a body seated in the chair dressed in a brocade robe. The head was missing and there was blood everywhere, splattered over the papers and staining the floor and walls.

“He was alive when they took off his head,” Kaifeng observed.

A gasp came from behind him. Mingyu was staring at him incredulously. Then her gaze returned to the headless body. If she could have disappeared into the wall, she would have.

“Do you wish to be elsewhere?” he asked.

A strangled sound escaped her lips, halfway between a cry and a laugh. Finally she nodded.

Kaifeng spared one final glance at the body, noting its position and taking quick stock of the surrounding items, before going to Mingyu’s side. He didn’t know if he should reach for her, but she seemed unable to move or look away. Taking a firm, yet careful grip on her arm, he directed Mingyu toward the door. After a moment’s resistance, she surrendered and went with him.

Once outside in the sunlight, her knees gave away. Kaifeng caught her in both hands. Mingyu’s soft weight momentarily sank against him, but she shoved him away to sink onto a wooden bench beneath the willow. He stood back while she struggled to find her breath. This was the Lady Mingyu he’d come to know—stubborn and determined not to show any sign of weakness.

“Who is that inside?” he asked.

“General Deng Zhi.” Her voice wavered despite her efforts. “He had just returned to the capital.”

“The general is your lover?”

She looked like she was about to break into pieces. “Not any longer.”

If what Mingyu said was true, one of the most highly ranked men in the empire had been killed not twenty paces from where he stood. He had to investigate the details of the death and report his findings to the magistrate immediately.

He looked down to Mingyu. “Did you send that boy to find me?”

She nodded, her hand trailing to her throat. Some of her color had returned, but she was far from composed.

“Do not leave this house,” he commanded. “If you flee now, I will have to consider you suspect in this murder.”

“If I wanted to run away, I wouldn’t have called you here,” she said irritably. Pressing the handkerchief to her nose, Mingyu presented him the hard point of her shoulder. “And I know that you consider me suspect, anyway.”

Her directness caught him off guard. If he knew anything about Mingyu, it was that she was unpredictable. After making sure she wouldn’t faint or lose her stomach, Kaifeng returned to the chamber.

He had seen death before. He’d witnessed it in battle as well as at public executions. The macabre scene was in many ways more shocking now than it had been on first sight. This time, Kaifeng noted the minute details he’d overlooked before. The body had fallen back against the chair and remained sitting. The neck protruded in a bloody stump. The headless torso seemed to be reclined comfortably in the chair, his last pose before leaving this world.

It was hard to believe a fighting man like Deng wouldn’t have managed to stand and defend himself in any way.

The blow had to have come from the front with the attacker facing the general. He noted the splatter around the chair and desk, and the lurid, metallic smell of fresh blood assaulted him. Gritting his teeth, Kaifeng walked around the desk and searched the floor. There was no head or murder weapon to be found.

Glancing up, Kaifeng could see Mingyu out in the garden. She remained on the bench where he’d left her with her head bowed. The position emphasized the graceful curve of her neck and the slenderness of her shoulders, making her appear vulnerable through the frame of the door.

Her robe was made up of shimmering layers of yellow silk and gold embroidery. The bodice was enticingly low, leaving her shoulders bared except for a shawl of the thinnest gauze wrapped around her. She had certainly come ready to visit a lover. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Her mere presence distracted him and he couldn’t allow that to happen. This was his duty and his calling and he needed to remain sharp to solve this puzzle, a puzzle that the courtesan was inexplicably a part of. A puzzle that Mingyu was making more complicated.

Kaifeng returned to the courtyard and breathed in the clean air, letting it fill his lungs and clear his head. Lady Mingyu didn’t raise her head even when he went to stand immediately before her. The pearl ornament in her hairpin caught his eye. A similar piece of jewelry had implicated her in another murder a year earlier.

“Once again I find you connected to a dead body,” he said.

“I know how this must seem.”

Mingyu wouldn’t look up at him as she spoke. It could be a sign of guilt, but it could be a sign of many things. She had belonged to the general and everyone in the Pingkang li had known it. Was she grieving for him now? Or had she somehow been involved in his death?

“I must notify Magistrate Li and summon my men to come retrieve the general’s body. Then you will need to come with me for questioning.”

“Of course, Constable.”

Her head tilted back slowly as if it were weighted down with lead. When she met his gaze, her eyes were fathomless. “I knew you would track me down regardless. That was why I sought you out.” Yellow silk whispered around her as she rose. “To save us both the trouble.”

* * *

MINGYU REMAINED BENEATH the shade of the willow tree as Constable Wu sent for a prison wagon to transport the body. When the other constables arrived, he instructed them to seal off the front gate and begin a search of the surrounding area. He was undaunted and efficient, an inhuman force, as if he had seen death a hundred times before.

By the time Wu Kaifeng came for her, Mingyu had stopped shaking. As she followed the constable into the street, she pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders even though the midmorning sun rose high in the sky. The chill that encased her came from within. It couldn’t be banished by the thickest of cloaks.

A covered litter was waiting outside the gate. Four bearers sprang to their feet and moved into position beside the poles while Mingyu glanced at Wu in surprise. He’d summoned transportation for her rather than requiring that she ride in the prison wagon. The gesture provided her with a measure of privacy and could have been considered thoughtful. Wu said nothing of it as he drew aside the curtain for her.

Mingyu climbed inside the compartment and the curtain fell over the front, shielding her away from the world. The litter then rose, hefted onto the shoulders of the bearers outside, and Mingyu let her head sink onto her hands.

Deng Zhi was dead.

She didn’t know what to feel. The general had been her patron for so long that it was impossible not to feel an emptiness in her chest. The general had been invincible in her eyes. Untouchable even by the Emperor.

Deng had barely spoken a word to her the first time she’d come to his bed. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she was young. Mingyu had been afraid there would be pain, that the general would be rough. All things considered, he hadn’t been careless with her, but Deng had held his hand over her throat the entire time, with her pulse beating frantically beneath his hand.

Deng had wanted no doubt in her mind that he owned her. Whenever he returned to the city, she still felt the weight of that hand, ready to bestow life or take it crushingly away.

And now she was free of him, but what did that freedom truly mean? Mingyu pulled aside the curtain to peer outside. Wu Kaifeng walked alongside the litter, his long stride keeping pace easily with the carriers.

Wu’s focus was on the road ahead, but he must have possessed the instincts of a wolf. He turned and caught her watching him. His expression was grim.

“We will arrive shortly, Lady Mingyu.”

The litter turned down a side street and stopped at the western entrance of a large gated compound with walls built of rammed earth hardened into stone. Wu Kaifeng bent to help her from the litter, offering a hand which she pointedly avoided. Without a word, Wu withdrew it, letting his arm fall to his side.

“I had hoped to never come back here,” she said, staring at the guardsmen stationed at either side of the entrance.

“Death seems to follow you.”

A shudder ran down her spine. “What an awful thing to say.”

“I apologize, then.”

Along with his wolf’s instincts, he had the manners of some wild creature. Wu Kaifeng unnerved her. He always had, from the first moment she’d seen him. The constable looked at everyone around him as if he would expose all of their secrets, but she had to trust him now.

Mingyu didn’t know who had killed General Deng or why, but she knew that this was Wu’s domain and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her until he uncovered the truth.

She entered the compound under his charge, with Wu walking slightly behind. At every step, she was aware of his considerable height towering over her. There was a quiet fierceness in the way he held himself, as if Wu Kaifeng feared nothing in this world or beyond it. His intimidating presence was an odd comfort at the moment. Whoever had conspired against General Deng, whoever might also mean her harm, couldn’t reach her while Wu stood watch.

The yamen guards raised their spears and stepped aside as they passed. She could feel their gazes raking over her while she kept her head held high. Everyone who was brought here was assumed to be a criminal. Even those who had been wronged were considered tainted.

It had been a year since Wu had led her through this very entrance. She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking and tension gathered in her shoulders as he approached the dark corridor where the accused were locked in prison cells to await trial.

She remembered that forsaken hallway from her one night in captivity. There were no windows and the floors were hard and unforgiving, made of packed dirt. The cells were barely larger than a closet. She had been cold and hungry and alone in the dark except for Wu Kaifeng who remained to await her confession.

The constable directed her past the corridor to another door that she recognized. The interrogation room.

Mingyu stopped cold. Her feet refused to move farther while her heart pounded as if it would punch through her chest. It was a mistake to go to him. She had been locked inside that room with Wu once before. What made her think he was any more forgiving now?

Wu paused with his hand against the wooden frame. His face was turned away, but tension gathered in his shoulders before he took a step back. Without a word, he continued on.

A moment later, she found herself in a more welcoming room lined with shelves and cabinets. A desk stood near the window and Wu sat her down on a stool while he gathered a writing box and scroll.

“Am I under arrest?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Wu positioned himself behind the desk facing her. Anyone else would have given her some indication of what was to come, either reassure or threaten her, but Wu Kaifeng did neither. He took his time grinding the ink stick down and mixing it with water before unrolling the scroll.

“When did you go to see General Deng?” he began.

“This morning. I left the Lotus immediately after the gong for the Snake Hour sounded.”

“He was expecting you?”

“Yes.”

After setting a stone weight at each corner of the paper, Wu lifted the brush and began recording her answers.

“Payment was sent to Madame Sun yesterday,” she continued. “The instructions in his letter were very clear when I was to arrive. I was to be his companion exclusively for the week.”

Wu paused and his fingers tightened momentarily over the brush before continuing. “And you had gone to that same house in the past to see him?”

“He owns the place. General Deng would hold gatherings and private meetings there.”

“Were you invited to these gatherings, as well?”

“One needs entertainment at such affairs.”

She tried to remain as calm as possible, but her throat was painfully dry. These were ordinary questions really, one any lawman might ask. She had expected this when she’d put herself at Wu Kaifeng’s mercy. What she hadn’t expected was how his demeanor had changed toward her. The difference was subtle, but it was there. She’d sensed it when Wu had approached her the other day. The events of the past had created a connection between them that remained unresolved. It was fate. Yuán fèn.

Wu kept his head bent as he transcribed her words onto the paper. His profile was rugged and his expression completely focused. His characters emerged in tight, efficient columns with little space in between them.

The scholar-gentlemen of the North Hamlet worshipped the art of writing. A practitioner’s technique and posture were supposed to reveal his character, how patient and cultured he was. Wu Kaifeng held the writing brush like a barbarian, without any technique or refinement. It was merely a tool in his hands, the same way a shovel or a pick served a peasant laborer.

“Isn’t that task usually performed by a clerk?” She indicated the scroll with a nod of her head.

“My writing should be passable.”

“Where did you study?”

“My father taught me.” He paused for an uncomfortable space of time. “My foster father,” he amended.

“Was he a constable, as well?”

“A physician.”

Mingyu knew she was stalling. It made her feel better to have him talking. Wu seemed quite civil in conversation. It was when he remained deathly quiet that he seemed to be judging her.

“You didn’t keep such meticulous records the first time we conversed,” she ventured.

“You weren’t saying very much.”

His hand continued inking the report onto the paper while they spoke.

“You were being unpleasant,” she reminded him.

“It was my duty.”

“To be unpleasant?”

Mingyu thought she caught the corners of his mouth tightening and her pulse jumped. It was dangerous for her to taunt him. Like throwing stones at a tiger in a bamboo cage.

But something had happened the last time they were here. Something that she had never told anyone because she couldn’t understand it herself. It had weighed heavily on her mind before seeking Wu out that morning.

“I have many other tasks to see to. If we could continue,” he said stiffly. She wasn’t the only one affected by their exchange. “When was the last time Deng summoned you?”

“Over a year ago. General Deng hasn’t returned to the city since before Emperor Xuānzong took the throne.”

“Not until now.”

“Not until now,” she echoed.

He met her eyes directly. “I recall you were shameless about using Deng’s name for your own purposes while he was away.”

If Wu was waiting for her to flinch, then he would be disappointed. “Sometimes exploiting a man’s power is the only influence a woman can wield.”

His gaze narrowed on her before moving on to more additional questions.

“What happened when you arrived at the house?”

“There was no one at the gate. I went inside and saw...saw exactly what you saw.” She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as a wave of nausea churned her stomach. “There was blood everywhere.”

“Did you approach the body or get close to him in any way?”

She shook her head. “I ran out into the street and found someone to fetch you.”

“Deng was no longer alive when you came into the room?”

“No.”

“And there was no one else in the house. You didn’t see or hear anyone?”

She recalled this approach from the last interrogation. Wu Kaifeng would ask every question two or three different ways, looking for inconsistencies in her answers.

“There was no one,” she said evenly.

He was writing again, the report flowing neatly from the tip of his brush. From a quick glance, he was recording her words exactly as she spoke them without embellishment or interpretation. When he looked up again, his gaze pierced her.

“Did you kill the general?”

Mingyu stared at him, startled by his bluntness. “Do you think I could have cut a man’s head off?”

“No.”

She started to relax, but it was too soon.

“Not personally,” Wu amended. “But you could have had it done. You have a way of getting others to do your bidding, Lady Mingyu. Of wielding influence, as you called it.”

“Then why would I want to be rid of General Deng? I have everything to lose and nothing to gain from his death.”

“Sometimes there is no reason.”

Some unnamable emotion flickered in his eyes, but she was unable to catch it. Mingyu was skilled at reading a man’s desires. Not only when it came to lust or sensual pleasure, but other desires, as well. The desire for notoriety, for respect, for achievement. The pleasure quarter was there to feed into all of them. Maybe she couldn’t read Wu Kaifeng because he had no desires. He was as dark and fathomless inside as on the outside.

“I am telling the truth,” she insisted as calmly as she could. “Remember that I was the one who came to you.”

“As you did last time. You are a strategist, Lady Mingyu. You like to control the board.”

There was no denying that. Better to know the positions on the battlefield, even if it put her at the mercy of someone as heartless as Wu Kaifeng. Fighting blind was the worst disadvantage of all.

“Why come to me?” he demanded. “Why not one of your many protectors? You despise me, Lady Mingyu.”

She was taken aback. “I don’t despise you.”

It was a horrible mistake going to Wu. He was suspicious of everything and everyone. She should have known he would tear her apart, just like this, but she’d been scared and alone.

“If you were so frightened, why did you wait for me in that house?” he challenged. “Weren’t you afraid the murderer could have still been nearby?”

“You were the only person I knew I could trust.”

Mingyu regretted the confession as soon as she’d made it. He reared up and leaned onto the writing table to loom over her.

“What game are you playing?” His quiet tone held a warning.

Instinctively, Mingyu shrank back. “There is no game.”

“I’m the last man you should trust. You and I both know why.”

She had no choice but to lay out all the pieces between them, which meant uncovering the past. The first time Wu had interrogated her, he’d taken out six bamboo sticks and laced them between her fingers. He’d held her hand still in his own as he completed the task, a gesture that was grotesquely intimate.

Each time she’d refused to answer, he would tighten the string around the sticks, crushing her knuckles against the bamboo. Mingyu had tried to bite her tongue, to refuse to beg, but it had been useless.

The entire process had been conducted with cold precision. Wu Kaifeng watched her suffer without a hint of emotion on his face, but then the pain stopped without explanation. The questioning came to an abrupt halt, as well.

“Why did you spare me that night?” she asked him now.

For the first time, Wu was the one to look away. “You were not going to reveal anything, even under torture.”

Mingyu hadn’t been so certain of it. Tears had flooded her eyes while her screams echoed off the walls of the barren cell.

Wu Kaifeng was the man who had done that to her. No one came to her defense. For all the compliments and praise that scholars bestowed upon her, she was still nothing more than a diversion. Admired in passing fashion like the brightness of a full moon, beautiful in one moment, easily forgotten in the next.

“I would have never expected you to be the merciful type, Constable.”

“It wasn’t mercy on my part.” He rose to his feet, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes. They were black and unreadable, as always. “You may go now.”

“You aren’t going to put me in chains?”

Wu, perhaps finding the question unnecessary, didn’t answer. Instead, he busied his hands with the writing implements, setting them carefully aside and then lifting the report to make sure the ink had dried.

She stood to leave, but stopped at the door. They were separated by the span of the room, giving her space to breathe. Wu’s presence was too overwhelming when he was beside her.

“I hated you for a long time, Constable. I hated you for rendering me helpless. For seeing me at my most vulnerable.”

“I took no pleasure in it,” he assured her.

“This is far from over, isn’t it?”

“There will be an imperial inquiry. Someone must be punished for this crime.”

Mingyu knew she was in danger from the moment she’d stepped into the study to see Deng’s corpse waiting for her. She had been linked to one murder in the past and here was another.

Conspiracy, the gossipers would declare. The general’s lover lured him to a secret tryst where he was then assassinated.

“You asked me why I summoned you and what game I was trying to play. It is a game,” she admitted. “I don’t trust you because you are kindhearted and honorable, Constable Wu. I trust you because you don’t care who Deng Zhi is or how vast his forces are. You don’t care who I am, which means you don’t care that a lowly courtesan was found with her dead and high-ranking lover. Or that her life means nothing to the magistrate or his superiors. All you care about is finding the truth.”

“If you’re looking for protection, you need someone more powerful than I,” he warned her.

Her chest squeezed tight. “There is no one else.”

“That is unfortunate.”

He regarded her impassively, his face a mask. If there was any hint of kindness earlier, it was long gone. She pushed the door open, eager to escape. Part of her envied Wu Kaifeng and his unyielding approach. It must be freeing to walk through this world and feel nothing.

CHAPTER FIVE

GENERAL DENG’S BODY was brought to the yamen and laid out on a long table in one of the storerooms. His embroidered robe and jade belt had been carefully removed and set aside while the corpse, or what remained of it, was washed and the neck bound with cloth. The doors and windows were propped open for additional light while Kaifeng created a charcoal sketch of the body. He observed the tone and rigidity of the muscles, the condition of the hands and feet, the appearance of the skin. Each detail was noted meticulously beside the drawings.

“Signs of poisoning can be detected in the skin beneath the nails as well as the swelling of the tongue and discoloration in the eyes,” Old Guo, his foster father, had told him.

The tongue and eyes weren’t available for inspection, but the nails were. They appeared a normal pallor given a person who had been dead for half the day.

There were no marks on the hands or arms, indicating that the general hadn’t tried to defend himself. It was possible Deng had been drugged or otherwise distracted. Or he was caught unaware, which meant he knew and trusted his killer.

Kaifeng completed a set of sketches of the corpse from different angles. Magistrate Li arrived just as he prepared to unwind the bandages at the neck.

Li Yen stopped short at the side of the long table, staring down at the empty space where there should have been a head. The young magistrate swallowed with some difficulty and fought to regain his composure.

“This is believed to be General Deng Zhi,” Kaifeng reported.

“The military governor of Shannanxi circuit,” Li muttered.

“I would have notified you sooner, but you weren’t at the tribunal this morning.”

“I was called away on an official matter,” he said with an impatient wave. “What is the progress so far?”

“The body was found at his private residence in the Chongren ward. I have a team of our constables searching the surrounding area to hunt for the head as well as possible suspects. A message has been sent to the Deng family mansion. I plan to question the household this afternoon.”

Li shook his head regretfully. “Constable Wu, there are certain formalities that should—no, that must be observed when a man of this stature is involved.”

“Time is of the utmost importance.”

“I understand, but Deng Zhi was a military official of the first rank. We can’t intrude upon his family without warning. And consider the rumors that will sprout up. This must be handled with some finesse.”

“Witnesses and anyone involved must be questioned immediately. You know this.”

Not only was it the magistrate’s duty to act swiftly, it was also when they were most likely to meet with success.

“We will certainly question everyone,” Li agreed. “But with our office under scrutiny, we must proceed carefully and show proper respect. I shall personally send out the proper condolences to the family and arrange a meeting at an appropriate time. This news will reach the Emperor’s ears, if it hasn’t already.”

Kaifeng didn’t like it at all, but Magistrate Li was his superior. He stared down at the lifeless figure. It cared nothing for respect or propriety. A body was a body. Upon death, putrefaction and decay set in. Time washed away all wrongs.

“I want to be present at the questioning.”

“That can be arranged, but you must be careful of what you say, Wu.”

“I will make an effort.”

With that, Kaifeng returned his attention to the examination of the corpse.

The body hadn’t yet grown stiff when Kaifeng arrived, which meant that the killing blow had been dealt not too long before. Kaifeng was able to have the body transported before the limbs locked tight.

He started unwrapping the cloth bundled around the neck when he realized that Li Yen was still beside him, looking on with morbid interest.

The inner layer of wrappings was soaked through with blood. Kaifeng pulled the last of the bandages away to reveal what remained of the neck. A butcher shop stench permeated the storeroom and Li pressed his sleeve over his nose.

“Clean cut,” Kaifeng announced, inspecting the edges of the wound. If he had to guess, he would say with a single blow, but he didn’t like to guess.

“I witnessed the Market Commissioner’s execution earlier this year,” Li murmured. “It was the first time I’d seen a beheading. The first time I sentenced a man to be killed in such a way.”

“The shock will dull with time,” Kaifeng assured, though he wasn’t certain it was true. Some men never hardened to the sight of death. Others, such as himself, were never truly shaken by it.

“I will leave you to the examination,” the magistrate choked out. “We will talk later.”

Li ducked away quickly, the back of his hand pressed over his mouth.

Kaifeng had come to the realization long ago that his responses were not typical. He didn’t seem to react as others did. Death didn’t sicken his stomach or make his muscles seize up in fear. Of all the times he had encountered death, only once had it truly upset him.

Sharpening the charcoal stick, Kaifeng began a sketch showing the wound. He noted the entry point of the blade and the angle of the blow in his journal.

Old Guo had tried to school him on the intricate details of medicine: pressure points, herbal remedies, the balance of qi and the elements. Kaifeng had never grasped the more ephemeral concepts, but certain tangible lessons stayed with him. He knew the anatomy of the body, where the vital organs were located and how to detect a fatal wound. He knew how long specific injuries took to heal, which blows were fatal and what sort of marks they left behind.

Despite this training, Kaifeng could never be a physician. Diagnosis was the art of reading someone’s pulse and listening to their breath. It was focused on prediction and intuition. He was never skilled at such guesswork or the art of interacting with others. Autopsy was another matter. It was focused on finding the answer to a foregone conclusion and there were only so many ways to die.

Kaifeng completed his final observations and then wrapped the body in linen to be returned to the family. He didn’t have high hopes of recovering the head. Whoever had killed the general wished to do more than take Deng’s life.

Beheading was a punishment reserved for the worst of criminals, for traitors and usurpers. The killer meant to defile his body and condemn his spirit in the afterlife. Or perhaps the killer had taken his head for himself. As a trophy from a conquered enemy.

* * *

THE MAGISTRATE’S OFFICE managed to keep the rumors contained over the next day or so, but stories began to surface throughout the quarter. Though it was taboo to speak of death, General Deng was a high-ranking official and anything involving Lady Mingyu attracted attention high and low.

Kaifeng headed into the entertainment quarter early in the morning. The Three Lanes lay quiet as the inhabitants of the pleasure houses slept off the previous night’s festivities.

The notorious Lotus Palace was distinguished by its rooftop pavilion decorated with eaves that resembled the petals of a flower. Each night, lanterns hung from the upper floors and the Lotus glowed like a beacon at the center of the Pingkang li. During the day, the towering pavilion could have been mistaken for a temple.

A young girl, possibly ten or eleven years of age, answered the visitor’s bell. She took one look at Kaifeng and shrank back.

“I am here to speak to Lady Mingyu.”

The door shut abruptly and he heard the girl calling for her headmistress. Apparently the young hostess-in-training needed more training.

When the door opened this time, he was met by a middle-aged lady dressed opulently in silk. Even at this early hour, her hair was elegantly coiled and pinned and her bearing had a regal air to it.

“Constable Wu,” she remarked with a haughty tilt of her head.

Kaifeng bowed slightly at the waist. “Madame Sun.”

He was well-known at the Lotus and many of the houses of the Pingkang li due to that murder investigation a year earlier. From the way the headmistress’s eyes narrowed on him, Kaifeng had not emerged favorably from the incident.

“It’s quite early,” she said.

“Indeed.”

“A little early for visitors.”

He stood his ground. “This is not a visit.”

She pursed her lips together, her jaw hardening. “Have you considered, Wu Kaifeng, that your conduct might be considered at times impolite?”

He considered it now. “Perhaps,” he concluded. “I must speak with Lady Mingyu. If you please, Madame.”

He added the last part for politeness.

“Let him in, Mother,” Mingyu said with a sigh. She appeared in the entrance hall behind her headmistress. “I don’t want the constable to think that we have anything to hide.”

Kaifeng raised his eyebrows at that. He was fully aware of what tricks these women were capable of.

Madame Sun stepped aside as Mingyu approached. This morning, her robe was plain and muted in color, which oddly accentuated rather than decreased her beauty. Her hair was pulled back with wooden combs, and then allowed to fall free over one shoulder. Without embellishment, Mingyu’s appearance took on a sense of clarity and purity. Flesh of ice and bones of jade.

“Would you like tea?” She directed him toward the parlor with a practiced sweep of her arm.

He remained at the door. “There is no need for such courtesies. I am returning to General Deng’s private residence for a closer inspection. If you would come with me.”

A look of unease rippled beneath Mingyu’s serene expression and Madame Sun bristled.

“I don’t see why you need Mingyu to perform your duties, Constable.”

Mingyu raised a hand to silence her headmistress. “General Deng Zhi was very generous to us, Mother. Isn’t it only right that we help Constable Wu in any way we can to lay the general to rest?”

Kaifeng didn’t know if her words were for Madame Sun’s benefit or his, but the headmistress was unconvinced.

“We have a reputation to maintain,” she countered. “There are enough rumors without you being dragged around the city by a demon like him.”

Mingyu leaned toward him in a conspiratorial gesture. Over her shoulder, Madame Sun continued to glare in disapproval.

“Constable, if you would allow me to meet you at the house?” Mingyu suggested softly. “Madame is very particular who I am seen in public with.”

Her hair smelled faintly of jasmine and the scent of it curled around him, touching his deepest desires. Lady Mingyu was skilled at this game of courtship. He wanted to tell her that it was wasted on him, but his pulse jumped at her nearness.

“Do not be long,” he told her gruffly.

Mingyu met his gaze and he could see dark shadows beneath her eyes. It was said Mingyu could command men with a single, sensuous look, but this morning she appeared exhausted.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, attempting a gentler tone.

“Thank you for understanding, Constable.”

The moment the door closed, Kaifeng realized the courtesan was clever enough to turn even a hint of vulnerability into an advantage. It was very possible that Mingyu had only surrendered herself to him to create an illusion. She wanted him to believe that she was at his mercy.

CHAPTER SIX

MINGYU HADN’T SLEPT. She couldn’t close her eyes without seeing the defiled body, the blood. It had been so long since she had seen Deng that she could hardly remember his face. As if he’d always been headless.

One of her courtesan-sisters from the Lotus accompanied her that morning. Ziyi had been procured a few years after Mingyu had arrived at the Lotus. They proceeded quietly through the streets side by side, but when they reached the house, the younger courtesan took one look at the yellow notice pasted over the gate and refused to enter.

A crime has occurred at this place, the notice proclaimed. All are forbidden entry by order of the magistrate.

Pushing the gate open, Mingyu stepped inside alone. Over the years she had collected many memories of this courtyard and the rooms surrounding it, but those moments were now destroyed by one act of violence.

Mingyu closed her eyes and prayed she had somehow been mistaken and she would see the general before her once more. Their association wasn’t a warm one, but it was one she was familiar with. One she could control.

A shadow passed over her, like a cloud covering the sun. She could sense the change in the air even with her eyes closed.

When she opened her eyes, the man standing before her wasn’t Deng, but Constable Wu.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he told her.

Wu was dressed in his black uniform and loomed before her like a dark tower. His features were harsh with little to smooth out the rough edges, the hard cut of his chin, the unforgiving shape of his mouth that seemed forever locked in a grim line. Yet something about him compelled her. Whenever he was near, it was impossible for her to look away. There was so much more to him than what could be seen on the surface. Wu’s tone was gentle and his eyes, though not kind, were far from cold.

She hadn’t shed a tear for her former lover, but with Wu’s simple remark, his closeness, how his shadow seemed to hold her steady, Mingyu felt her eyes welling up. She took a deep breath and forced the emotion back.

“What is it that you needed from me?” she asked.

The moment broke between them. It had been as tenuous as a spider’s web and just as invisible, except in the right light.

“You mentioned that General Deng often met with you here.”

He stepped aside to allow her into the courtyard and Mingyu breathed a bit easier now that she was no longer facing him.

“The general would host meetings here when he required more privacy than a banquet hall could offer.”

“Deng Zhi also maintained a home in the northern part of the city.”

She nodded. “The Deng family mansion.”

“Yet he spends most of his time outside the capital.”

“Most powerful officials keep honorary residences here. It’s a sign of the Emperor’s favor,” she explained. “Deng enjoyed the previous Emperor’s favor, at least. Do you know of his history?”

Wu glanced down at her, his expression neither confirming nor denying her question. She had to remember that he was new to Changan. Furthermore, he was the magistrate’s hired hand and locked out of the sort of conversation a courtesan could easily overhear. Men of high rank liked to talk.

“The general had a rival military governor accused of treason and, through one scheme followed by another, took over the warlord’s army as well as several other garrisons. As a result, Deng controlled one of the largest military circuits within the empire. And one quite close to the imperial capital.”

If Wu Kaifeng had any interest in politics, he didn’t show it. His expression remained blank except for his eyes which were focused unnervingly onto her.

“Scheme after scheme,” he said finally. “The two of you must have suited one another perfectly.”

She flinched. “True or not, Deng Zhi is gone now. There is no need to insult me—or him.”

“It wasn’t an insult. Just an observation.”

A glaringly personal observation, speaking of General Deng and her as if he knew anything about them. Mingyu turned toward the main part of the house, purposefully cutting him from view. “Why are we here, Constable?”

“I studied the perimeter.” He gestured toward the low wall that surrounded the property. “There are two entrances. Or exits, whichever way you wish to think of it. The main one is the front gate. The secondary one is through the kitchen. The walls are not difficult to scale, but climbing over them would attract notice.”

Mingyu listened patiently, an important skill for a courtesan. It was fascinating to try to figure out who Wu Kaifeng was as a man. He was a blunt instrument, no finely honed edge, no finesse. Not at all like the men she was accustomed to dealing with.

Whatever Wu revealed of himself, she could believe. As fearsome as most found him, he never used his physical presence to intimidate her outside of that one time when he was performing his duties in the interrogation room. Not the way Deng had.

“Did General Deng typically have servants with him when he was here?” he asked.

An odd feeling crept down her spine. “Yes. At least one attendant and always bodyguards. I noticed there was something unusual when I arrived yesterday, but I couldn’t place what it was. And then everything became confused.”

“So no one was here when you arrived.”

She frowned. How had she failed to recognize that? “The place seemed empty, but the general would send his attendants away when he wanted more privacy.”

“Then he must have been eager to see you after such a long time away.”

Her face heated. Such a thing shouldn’t make her blush. Mingyu was an experienced courtesan, but Wu had no sense of what should be spoken and what must remain unspoken.

“The bodyguards would never be far away,” she pointed out. “A man like Deng has to always be watchful of enemies.”

Kaifeng nodded. “Violence begets violence. Did anyone else know where he would be waiting for you that morning?”

“Madame Sun knew of it. And I assume Deng’s servants must have known, as well.”

“The household is in mourning. I am forbidden to question his wife or son,” Wu said with a scowl.

Mingyu went still. “His family is here, as well?”

“Deng’s wife returned to the Changan along with her husband. She had the unfortunate duty of identifying her husband’s body. His head is still missing.”

Wu took two steps toward the house before he noticed she wasn’t following beside him. He looked back over his shoulder. “Have I offended you? I tend to ask my questions directly.”

“I was surprised the general would have summoned me while his wife was present in the city.”

“Explain.”

“Deng’s wife was not happy when he wanted to make me his concubine.”

“But you didn’t become his concubine.”

“I did not.”

“Why not?” he asked.

She shot him a warning look, but Wu continued to wait for her answer.

One would have thought with time among the society of the capital, Constable Wu’s manners would smooth out, but his rough conduct was apparently not due to his low birth nor being from the provinces. Her own peasant upbringing had been scrubbed away by Madame’s training. In Changan, if one had a way with words and mastered the social graces, one could be reborn. But Wu had no interest in being anything other than what he was.

“Deng Furen is one of those women who very much has a say in what happens in the household. She comes from a very wealthy and powerful family.”

“You are not telling me everything,” Wu insisted.

Mingyu sighed. “These are women’s matters. A courtesan’s role is different than that of a concubine. If I were to leave the Lotus to disappear into Deng’s household, I would have been completely under his wife’s rule.”

He took a moment to consider her explanation. His curiosity must have been satisfied, because he gestured toward the door. “Come inside.”

She went still. They were at the entrance to the study. “I can’t—”

“I need you to see something.”

Without waiting for her, he pushed the door open. If Mingyu turned and fled now, things would be even worse for her. She had no choice but to follow his lead.

It wasn’t as bad inside with Deng’s body removed, yet in a way it was also worse. Bloodstains surrounded the desk and chair, the only clean area being where the corpse had sat.

“You should know that the evidence indicates the general was killed very close to the time that you arrived at the house,” Wu said. “You may have even been in the house at the same time, with the killer leaving through the rear exit.”

She swallowed and her hand flew to her throat. “I could have walked in at the wrong moment—”

“Did you see anyone out in the street when you arrived?”

Mingyu shook her head. “No... I don’t know.”

“There are a few details I left off of the official report. I need you to speak to them now.”

Her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe. She had told him everything, hadn’t she?

“There was blood on the hem of your robe yesterday. Also on your sleeve.”

Every muscle within her tensed. “Impossible.”

“There was also blood on your hands, Lady Mingyu.”

She vaguely remembered stepping toward the corpse. She remembered backing away, stumbling to the gate. Calling to the boy who was loitering outside.

“You were studying my hands in the interrogation room,” she said dully.

“Beneath your fingernails. When I came back here last night, I found the washbasin had been used. You can still see it now.”

In a trance, she walked to the table in the corner where the basin had been set. The water was tinged pink. Mingyu looked down at her hands next. They were clean now, but she’d scrubbed them for an hour the night before, not understanding why she’d felt the need to.

“You know things about me that I don’t even know myself,” she murmured. The memory seemed like it was there and it wasn’t, as if there were a fog over her eyes. “I must have gone to him when I saw him. I was so confused, I must have touched my hand to his chest to see if his heart was still beating. I don’t even know why I did it. I already knew he was dead. I didn’t remember any of this until now, I swear to heaven.”

Wu regarded her with a keen eye and she could feel her cheeks heating under his scrutiny. Her heart was hammering inside her. She didn’t like how it felt to have to plead for her life.

“People react to death in unpredictable ways,” he began slowly. “With anger, with tears, sometimes even laughter and any number of small madnesses.”

It was the sort of assurance one said to the bereaved, but there seemed to be something else behind his words. Something hidden deep.

“You didn’t bring me here to condemn me, then?”

“I don’t aim to condemn anyone. I just want answers.” Wu walked over to the desk next, to the last place on this earth Mingyu wanted to go. “There is one more thing I need you to see.”

Laid across the desk were Deng’s personal items—a chop carved from soapstone and a stack of letters. He must have been reading correspondences that morning.

But Wu’s gaze was directed, not onto the desk, but beneath it. A scroll had fallen to the floor where it remained open, partially hidden.

“Is this you, Lady Mingyu?”

She ventured closer, avoiding the bloodstains on the floor and chair. At the first sight of the scroll, she gasped. It was a brush painting of a courtesan rendered in graceful, elegant strokes. A line of poetry had been inscribed down the right-hand side, comparing the lady to an orchid. There were hundreds like this floating around the pleasure quarter, but this one was unmistakably her.

“I didn’t even know the general owned this.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t even know such a painting existed.”

She looked so heartbreakingly young! The painting showed her seated in a meadow with tall grass around her. There was a faint hint of a breeze in the sway of the grass and the way her hair flew about her face. Blood had spilled onto the paper, forming a ghastly frame around her.

“Your face was the last thing Deng Zhi saw in this life,” Wu remarked. “He sent his guards away to be with you. He was anticipating your arrival the moment he was killed.”

She shook her head, wanting to deny everything, but it was impossible to ignore. “I don’t know how that came to be here. I meant nothing to Deng. He wanted me the way a soldier procures a horse. As property.”

“Do not lie to me, for if I find that you have tried to trick me, there will be consequences,” Wu warned. “Were you involved in Deng’s death?”

At that moment, she was convinced his relentless gaze could pierce straight into her soul.

“No.”

Mingyu said nothing else, letting that one word stand. Wu had never been lured or swayed by any of her artfulness. She expected another rainstorm of questions from him, but he remained silent.

Finally the constable stepped back from the desk. The nod he gave her was a begrudging one, hard-earned, but Mingyu still wasn’t certain whether he believed her or not.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE MOMENT MINGYU was free of the house, she fled to the side of one her courtesan-sisters who was waiting in the street. They ducked beneath the shade of a parasol, heads held close in conversation like a pair of sparrows on a branch. Once more, Kaifeng was left to watch as Mingyu walked away, hanging on to the last sight of her until she was nothing more than a shape in the distance.

Mingyu was frightened and desperate and she was certainly hiding something, but his gut told him she wasn’t guilty. Unfortunately his gut and every other part of him were susceptible to Mingyu. He couldn’t trust his instincts around her.

Kaifeng returned inside to gather Deng’s belongings as evidence. It was striking that among the few personal items in the study, one of them should be a painting of Mingyu.

Had Deng been captivated by her? Had he gazed affectionately at the painting, so smitten that he’d missed the warning signs of an imminent attack? Lust and longing might have made him careless enough to dismiss his servants for some privacy, but he was an accomplished soldier. Why was there no struggle?

As Kaifeng packed the items into a wooden crate, he noted one more glaring detail. There was no sword among them.

Mingyu claimed that the general always feared for his safety. Yet there was no weapon on his person or at the scene of the crime. Whoever had killed him must have taken his sword along with the head. But was it the murder weapon?

The next course of action was clear. At the magistrate’s yamen, Kaifeng instructed the other constables to seek out Deng’s bodyguards. Those men had either failed miserably in their duties or they had been part of the conspiracy. As to identifying the general’s political enemies, that was a task Magistrate Li was more suited for. He would speak to Li as soon as the tribunal had adjourned for the day.

With that plan in place, Kaifeng proceeded to the records room with the evidence crate only to find a stranger riffling through the papers at his worktable. His initial urge to grab the interloper by the throat was thwarted when Kaifeng saw his red robe and official’s cap.

Kaifeng set the crate by the door before approaching. “Sir?”

It galled him to have to address the man with such respect. The color of his uniform denoted that the stranger was higher in rank than even Magistrate Li.

The official appeared to be thirty years of age. He had a scroll in hand and continued to read from it by the light from the window. He didn’t look up as Kaifeng approached.

“The body was found seated at a desk in an open chamber. The door was unlocked. Only a single person was found in the house. One Lady Sun Mingyu. She claimed to not have witnessed the death. Records indicate the property was owned by General Deng Zhi.” The stranger finally glanced up from the report. “Are you this—” He made a show of squinting at the inscription. “Wu Kaifeng?”

“Yes.” And after some deliberation, “Sir.”

Kaifeng knew the visitor held some elevated rank and was apparently arrogant because of it, but there was little else he could discern.

“Constable Wu Kaifeng, is it? The magistrate must be quite overburdened to task his constables with record keeping.”

“It seemed fitting for me to make the report given that I was the first to inspect the crime scene,” he replied.

The official looked over his writing with a look of disdain. “This isn’t a common occurrence, I hope. Such tiny characters. Closed off, hard to decipher. Your calligraphy leaves something to be desired, Constable.”

Kaifeng raised an eyebrow. They were investigating a murder and the official was berating his writing skills?

With some effort, Kaifeng constructed his next request. “May this humble servant ask to whom he is speaking?”

“Inspector Xi Lun, attendant censor of the Palace Bureau,” the stranger replied crisply.

Though Kaifeng wasn’t one to be impressed with titles, this one made him pause. Imperial censors reported directly to the Emperor and were tasked with investigating corruption among appointed officials.

The censor continued with his diatribe, “As any scholar knows, the quality of writing conveys many things. These brushstrokes are crude, hasty. The observations and descriptions are abrupt as if no thought was given to them. What does this say about the care given to this investigation? Is it similarly hasty and untended? This report is practically unreadable.”

Kaifeng didn’t answer. To his ears, the conversation was as nonsensical as the babbling of an infant. He had work to do and he wanted this official with his expensively dyed robe to go somewhere else.

“Magistrate Li should consider that a case this important be assigned to someone more appropriate,” the censor continued. “Someone with the proper training.”

Kaifeng had training, but it was questionable whether hunting outlaws in Suzhou or observing his foster father carry out the duties of a county physician were considered proper.

This official was apparently one of the scholar-gentry that crowded the administrative bureaus of the capital. In his eyes, if an individual could not quote lines of poetry at odd times in conversation, he was nothing more than a half-wit.

“Are not all cases equally important?” Kaifeng posed mildly. “In the end, a life is a life. A wrong is a wrong.”

Inspector Xi smirked, pleased and amused that Kaifeng would attempt to engage in debate. “The death of a high general like Deng Zhi threatens the stability of our state. What is the purpose of justice if not to protect the social order?” He glanced back at the report, rolling the ends of the scroll to read the next passages. “The neighbors were interrogated. Passersby. Why were the family members and servants not questioned?”

Kaifeng ground his teeth. “This was done out of respect for the mourning period.”

“Constable,” the censor began with mock surprise, “you must be aware that memories and recall of events will erode with time. Also with additional time, the perpetrators have opportunity to fabricate lies and cover up their involvement.”

Inwardly, he cursed Magistrate Li and his proper and genteel ways. Outwardly, Kaifeng bit his tongue.

“The only person you questioned who appeared to have any personal knowledge of General Deng was—” The official squinted at the report again. An annoying habit. “Lady Mingyu, courtesan of the Lotus Palace and foster daughter to a Madame Sun Linjiang. You seem to have conversed with her in length. No arrest was made.” He glanced up with a shrewd look. “I’ve heard of this Mingyu. Perhaps you were moved to be lenient when faced with a beautiful woman?”

The way he lingered over Mingyu’s name made Kaifeng’s fists clench. Striking an official would certainly be seen as a threat to the stability of the state.

“There was not enough evidence for an arrest,” he replied. “And she can be easily found in the Pingkang li if further questioning is required.”

“No matter. I’ll advise Li Yen to assign his official deputies to this task. To men who understand the prescribed practice of enforcing the laws. Ones who have been educated beyond a few scrawls.” With a curl of his lip, he rolled the scroll closed. “Your talents are better served in the street, dragging in vagabonds and lending a heavy hand when needed.”

Magistrate Li appeared at the doorway. Behind him was the same official Li had met with several days earlier, the one who had requested that he be dismissed.

“Inspector Xi Lun,” Li greeted with a low bow. “We apologize for the delay.”

“No need for apology. This conversation was quite useful.” Xi Lun tucked the report beneath his arm and slanted a final glance at Wu Kaifeng before joining his colleagues. “I would like to hear what else is being done to investigate this crime, Magistrate Li. As you know, the Emperor himself is interested to know who would dare to assassinate one of his highest ranking generals, right here in the imperial capital under the Emperor’s watch.”

* * *

TALENTS BETTER SERVED in the street.

Indeed.

Kaifeng would gladly keep to the streets if it meant no more useless exchanges with self-important bureaucrats. If there was some scheme to have him dismissed, then so be it. There was little he could do about it, but perform his duties. So by the next morning, he had brushed such concerns aside and instead pondered the nature of cuts and wounds as he walked through the market.

Lady Mingyu would likely be unimpressed by such knowledge. She might even find it horrifying, but it certainly made him useful. Kaifeng had no illusions. Mingyu wouldn’t have looked twice at him if he wasn’t useful.

He reached the lane where the butcher’s shop was located and caught a scrawny youth darting from the crowd toward the street corner.

Kaifeng closed the distance and grabbed the boy’s shoulder. The urchin yelped and struggled while he shouted for help. Anyone who might have been inclined to intervene took one look at Kaifeng and kept on moving.

“Sir! Constable, sir, where are you taking me? I didn’t do anything.”

With Kaifeng’s long stride, the boy was skipping to keep pace as Kaifeng dragged him back toward the shop. As soon as the youth saw where they were going, he renewed his struggles, clawing at Kaifeng’s wrist. The butcher paused with his cleaver poised over a haunch of pork.

Kaifeng raised his arm, the gesture lifting the boy half off the ground. “Here is your thief.”

The butcher stared incredulously from Kaifeng to the boy in his grasp.

“That runt you caught a few days ago was innocent, but there was indeed a thief snatching your earnings. I saw this one waiting for you to be occupied with those hogs from your assistant.” Kaifeng nodded toward the pig carcasses stacked on the back counter. “Once your back was turned, he crept by to swipe a few coins.”

This boy was in rags very much like the first one. He started to squeak out a protest, but Kaifeng merely let him drop to the ground. A quick search of his person revealed two copper coins tucked into his shoe.

There was no need to test the coins in water for streaks of grease and blood. The boy, in the typical fashion of the guilty, piped up that this was only his first time stealing from the butcher.

“It wasn’t me all those other times,” he insisted.

The butcher’s face flushed red and his jowls shook as he roared, “I should chop off your hand myself, you no-good dog.”

He raised his cleaver to make good on the threat, which sent the thief scrambling behind Kaifeng for protection. “Sir! Constable, sir. Don’t let him kill me.”

On any other day, Kaifeng would leave the thief to the butcher to mete out punishment. There was no use in taking such a petty crime to the magistrate where the youth would only receive a few blows with the light rod as punishment.

“Put him to work,” Kaifeng suggested, seeing the butcher was less enthusiastic about wielding his cleaver on a person than on a side of pork.

Once the failed thief was on his knees scrubbing the floor, Kaifeng returned to his original intent for coming to the shop.

“There is a favor I must ask of you,” he said to the butcher.

“Anything, Constable.”

Kaifeng looked to the pigs stacked on the back counter, still intact. “If I could borrow two of those. You will get them back shortly, I assure you.”

The butcher shot him a questioning look, a look that said he wasn’t certain whether Wu Kaifeng was entirely sane. It was a look the constable got often.

“This might make your job easier for the day,” Kaifeng added.

The butcher set his son at the counter to take care of customers while he helped haul the two carcasses to the storeroom in back.

Hooks hung from the ceiling and the smell of old blood and gore clung to the air. This was where the meat was hung to drain after slaughter. The reformed thief made his way back there and plunked his wash bucket down. Scrunching up his face, he sank down to his knees and started scrubbing with an air of resignation.

Kaifeng secured the pigs onto the hooks, heads up so that their necks were exposed at his eye level. The weight of them was nearly equal to a man’s.

He thanked the butcher for his assistance, but the man remained in the storeroom, too curious to return to his counter. When Kaifeng positioned himself in front of one of the pigs and drew his sword, the boy stopped his scrubbing to watch with fascination.

Setting his feet and squaring his shoulders, Kaifeng sank into his stance. He gripped the broadsword in both hands—he had the feeling he would need the extra power in his swing—and pulled the weapon back.

Tension gathered in his shoulders as he prepared himself. He had watched the executioner deal such a blow, but had never done it himself. He had, however, wielded his sword against a flesh and blood enemy enough times to know the impact of steel into bone.

With a deep breath, he reared back and then struck with the exhale, directing his blow not into the body, but to a point on the other side. The broadsword sank deep, but not through the corpse. The resistance in the body stopped him short even though he was swinging at full force. It took another swipe to sever the head from the body. The carcass fell to the floor with a thump and the boy gasped in amazement.

“A little harder next time,” the butcher said encouragingly.

For the second carcass, Kaifeng circled around so he was facing the back of the pig.

“It’s going to be more difficult that way, Constable,” the butcher warned.

Kaifeng readied himself and struck again. Once again, he’d failed to sever the head in one blow, but that hadn’t quite been his aim. He inspected the cuts he’d made with his broadsword.

The first blow had indeed resulted in a clean cut. The secondary cut was easily discernible from the ragged edge of the wound. Next he tested a few cuts from the butcher’s cleaver and his machete. Tools that the butcher necessarily kept honed. Again, the cuts were discernible. The cleaver was blunter. The machete sharper and cleaner, but not as precise as his sword.

“Did you get the answers you were looking for, Constable?” the butcher asked.

“Too soon for conclusive answers.” Kaifeng cleaned his sword with a rag and sheathed it. “Just gathering information.”

General Deng had been beheaded with a single stroke, by a man who was both sword-trained and strong enough to deliver the death blow. There had been a slight angle to Deng’s wound, a downward cut that would seem more natural for taking a head, especially when the victim was sitting or kneeling. Most likely the blow was dealt from the front. By someone who was right-handed.

It was still possible that someone Deng trusted had positioned himself behind the general, but very unlikely. A fighting man wouldn’t allow anyone who was dangerous such an advantage. Even though Kaifeng’s size might render most men less threatening, he was still aware of who was around him. Especially if that person was armed.

The killer would be an experienced fighter, most likely tall in stature, possessing a good sword. Deng’s bodyguards were immediately suspect. Kaifeng had been unable to track them down the day before, but it was only a matter of time.

There was another explanation Kaifeng hadn’t yet considered. Deng had gone without his bodyguards and without his weapon. Was it possible that Deng had expected to die? But why summon Mingyu that morning?

A chill settled in his blood. The general might have wanted to see her one last time before dying. Or he could have planned for her to accompany him on that last, long journey into darkness. Perhaps Deng had planned it that way all along.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I DON’T KNOW why we have to entertain at a public drinking house,” Ziyi complained.

Mingyu was accompanied that evening by Ziyi and Jing-min, one of the younger girls of the house. Their destination was a tavern in the northern quadrant of the ward, reachable on foot, but still a good distance away.

“It will be loud, crowded. Full of all sorts of who-knows-what.”

“It’s good practice and there is a sizable gathering there tonight.” Mingyu led them toward the pair of lanterns flickering at the end of the street. “Good opportunity for introductions.”

“But you’re not performing.”

“I’m in mourning,” Mingyu replied serenely. “And I have less need to cultivate a following than my younger courtesan-sisters.”

Ziyi snorted. Jing-min remained quiet as she kept pace beside them. She had her pipa held close to her side. At fifteen and having been in training for a short five years, she only performed outside of the Lotus Palace once in a while and always under supervision.

Tonight the three of them had taken care to dress in complementary colors, knowing they would be seen together. They floated down the lane in pink, yellow and green, a field of flowers.

Mingyu paused to read the signboard over the entrance which listed the establishment as the Golden Flower Tavern.

“Here,” she directed. “And be pleasant. Or at least be well-mannered.”

Ziyi made a face as she moved past. Jing-min merely bowed her head in a nod of obedience as she followed her courtesan-sister inside. The girl was pretty enough, Mingyu thought, but she was entirely too timid by nature.

Though the tavern was crowded, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Ziyi had complained. The proprietor welcomed them with a quick nod and left them to find their own place. Entertainers were good for business.

Seeing that the benches on the ground floor were filled with lower-ranking functionaries, Mingyu directed the girls upstairs where the more private seatings could be found. She was quickly rewarded for their efforts. A group of bureaucrats were enjoying wine in one of the rooms near the stairs. Though none of them recognized her, they seemed amiable.

“Such a serious and important discussion,” Mingyu remarked upon browsing by. “This seems to be an ambitious lot.”

There was a chorus of good-natured remarks and greetings.

“All except for...this one.” She singled out the one who seemed the most talkative of the group, causing the others to burst into laughter.

“She knows you, fool.”

“All beautiful women know me,” the target retorted, playing along wonderfully.

From there, it was easy to insinuate themselves. Mingyu took the liberty of pouring a round of drinks while the men lifted their cups eagerly. Ziyi and Jing-min joined in to accommodate everyone.

“My younger sister is practicing a new song. Perhaps the gentlemen would like to hear it?” Mingyu suggested.

The men were all in agreement.

“I will try my best,” Jing-min replied softly. Sometimes being shy worked out well as the men hushed around her and she became the center of attention.

The sounds of the pipa took over and the mood became immediately festive. Mingyu’s presence was no longer needed to ease the way and she managed to disengage and retreat into the hall.

Perhaps she could have a moment to herself before exploring the rest of the tavern. Madame Sun would expect her to search out any noteworthy names who happened to be there that evening and at least offer a greeting.

At the end far end of the corridor, Mingyu did encounter a familiar face, though whether or not his name was noteworthy could be debated. Wu Kaifeng sat with Magistrate Li at a table in the corner. The two of them were deep in conversation and looked more like peers engaged in a serious discussion rather than a superior speaking to his underling.

Just as she meant to retreat in the other direction, Wu looked up. His eyes locked onto her and his gaze narrowed as he considered her unexpected appearance. To turn away now would be admitting she found him unsettling, so Mingyu stood her ground. Unfortunately, this left her staring rather boldly at him. Magistrate Li continued speaking, oblivious that his constable’s attention was elsewhere. Her pulse skipped as Wu Kaifeng stood and started toward her.

His long and lean form filled the corridor. By the time he arrived before her, her cheeks were flushed with anticipation, but her tone remained cool. Or at least that was her intention.

“Constable Wu.”

“Lady Mingyu.”

She cast a sly glance over his shoulder. “What excuse did you give the magistrate for coming over here?”

He frowned. “No excuse. I told him you looked like you had something to say to me.”

“I don’t have anything in particular.”

“I was mistaken, then.”

With a short bow, he turned to go and she had to catch his arm to stop him. “Must everything be so exact with you?” she said with a huff.

Wu tensed beneath her hand and he regarded her with surprise. Mingyu let her fingers slip away from his arm, but there was no erasing the touch or how her heart was suddenly pounding.

It was a simple courtesan’s game, moving in close, establishing a false familiarity. This was the first time she had initiated any contact with Wu Kaifeng, yet she was the one affected. The faint warmth in her cheeks was now a heat that made her entire face burn.

“Come with me, Constable.” With a laugh, she turned toward the stairs. “Perhaps we should talk, after all.”

Mingyu could hear his footsteps behind her despite the music floating through the hallway, despite the buzz of conversation in the tavern. All sights and sounds receded in the wake of her awareness of him.

She descended the stairs and headed toward the kitchen in the back. She didn’t allow herself the reassurance of looking back, but she knew Wu was still following her. The cool night air surrounded her as she slipped through the rear door.

“Your conversation with the magistrate appeared quite important,” she began, finally turning to him.

Wu stood just outside the doorway, presenting a striking figure in the lantern light. “I don’t speak unless it is important.”

There might have been a rebuke there, but she didn’t sense one.

“And most of what I say is worthless banter,” she remarked.

“Not entirely worthless.”

He said it more in agreement than denial and Mingyu bit back a smile. Of all the people in this wide city, Constable Wu was the first to make her smile in a long time.

Usually she took such pleasure in the nuances and ambiguity of conversation, but his blatant disregard for politeness was undeniably exciting.

Wu looked about the deserted alleyway where they found themselves. “Are you unable to be seen with me even here?”

“A few lanes from the Pingkang li and no one even knows my face. Don’t mind Madame Sun. She simply likes to be demanding.”

Mingyu moved to his side and they started down the alley at a leisurely pace. Though the stroll couldn’t progress very far, it was pleasant to be headed nowhere for the moment.

They could still hear the muted hum of activity from within the tavern. The truth was, Mingyu preferred it when they were alone together. Then there were no requirements for either of them.

“I didn’t know you entertained at public drinking houses,” he remarked, returning his attention fully to her.

“Several of my courtesan-sisters are still in training. Madame wishes for me to teach them everything I know. Then she can have four girls just like me and be a rich woman.”

“I hear there can be bitter rivalries among women.”

She snorted. “And there aren’t bitter rivalries among men? There’s always a higher mountain, they say.”

“Or someone who feels the need to exert their superiority,” he agreed.

The constable’s openness surprised her, as did the hint of bitterness in his tone. He said nothing more though and the burden was on her to keep the conversation flowing.

“If men didn’t constantly fight for position among one another, my role would be highly diminished,” she mused.

“Your role?”

“I’m wondering whether I should forgive the skepticism I hear in your voice, Constable.”

“I thought a courtesan’s duty was to play music and convince men to imbibe more wine than they would when drinking alone.” He paused to grant her a sideways glance. “And to be beautiful.”

And Mingyu had thought she was immune to compliments. Of course, she wasn’t quite certain that Wu’s statement was a compliment. Maybe that was why her stomach fluttered the way it did.

“A banquet mistress’ task is to promote harmony and balance. She can perform her duties through playing an instrument or conversation or sometimes a look given at the right time to the right person.”

They had reached the end of the lane and Mingyu paused to grant him an evocative look to make her point. She thought she saw Wu’s hard mouth break into the faintest of smiles, but it was too dark to be certain.

Passing the time with Constable Wu wasn’t unpleasant at all. Mingyu slowed her step to prolong their return.

“At a gathering, if I find an honored guest is reluctant to speak, I make him comfortable and draw him out,” she continued. “On the other hand, if a guest oversteps his bounds, then I have to put him in his place.”

“A constable’s duty is not nearly so complicated,” Wu replied. “He detains criminals and drags them to the prison house.”

“But that isn’t all you do.”

What little she had seen of Wu’s interaction with the magistrate told her he played a much more important role.

There was a long pause before he spoke. “It seems lately I’m the one who has overstepped his bounds.”

“In what manner?”

Wu chose not to answer. “Did Deng Zhi often wear his sword?” he asked instead.

“His sword—” The sudden shift in his tone startled her.

“Was he usually armed?”

“I...I believe so. General Deng wore his sword in public for appearances.”

“And in private?”

He was the exacting constable once more. Mingyu had to think back. It really had been a long time since she’d last seen the general.

“Rarely for private meetings,” she concluded.

“You told me he was always prepared for danger. Deng Zhi was a soldier and a general.”

“But he was a statesman first. Openly carrying a weapon in certain circumstances would be seen as a sign of fear.”

His expression grew serious as he considered the information. “So Deng did rely heavily on his bodyguards.”

Mingyu had the impression that Wu was no longer truly with her, taking a stroll in the autumn evening. His head was back in the investigation as he pondered suspects and evidence and other grim and unpleasant things.

When they reached the back door of the tavern, the warmth she had felt between them had faded. Perhaps it had never really been there.

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