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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?”