The Lotus Palace. Jeannie Lin
in the way you implied.”
“I said that I was delightfully delayed by—” he paused to recall the exact words “—a charming young lady.”
“Delayed?” she asked through her teeth. “Delightfully?”
The dog. She dropped the slipper and took hold of the vase.
A light dawned in his eyes. “You think I murdered Huilan?” he asked incredulously. “Do you truly believe I’m capable of doing such a horrible thing? And to someone as gentle and kind as Huilan. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I don’t believe you killed her.” She kept the vase between them. “But I don’t think you’ve been completely truthful.”
“I am trying to find whoever did this and bring him to justice,” he insisted. “I came here to ask your help on that very matter.”
“Why would you need my help?”
He eyed the vase in her grasp. “Shall we discuss this over tea?”
She was overanxious. Constable Wu might be right that she didn’t know many killers, but she had known men who were capable of it. She remembered a brothel owner who had beaten one girl to death and was only forced to pay a fine for the crime, the ruling being that he hadn’t intended to kill her. She knew in her gut Bai Huang wasn’t like that.
She set the would-be weapon down and went to light the tea stove. He sat out in the parlor as she worked. Peering out from the screen, she saw him running his hands back and forth over his knees, standing, then sitting again and looking around as if to search for some possible inspiration to start a conversation. It was disarming to see him like this, so uncertain.
Lord Bai Huang probably expected tea to miraculously appear when he asked for it, with no extra effort or delay. Once she had the fire started in the stove, she ladled water into the pot and set it on top. With nothing to do but wait, she returned to the parlor and seated herself. It was unusual to be sitting across from a gentleman, eye to eye.
“Why do you need my help?” she asked again.
“You’re familiar with the quarter. People know you and trust you.” He paused, looking at her intently. “And you have a good heart.”
She fidgeted. “I don’t understand why you can’t let the magistrate handle things.”
By now, she was certain Bai Huang wasn’t half the fool he presented in public, but she still didn’t think he was more qualified than Magistrate Li and his constables.
“First, the pompous Li Yen and the evil-eyed Wu Kaifeng are new to the city. People don’t trust them. They won’t be able to act as quickly as you and I. Second, Magistrate Li has his own agenda. I don’t trust him. And third—”
He paused for a long while on the last point. His dark eyebrows folded into a frown.
“Third, I swore to Huilan I would help her. I owe this debt to her.”
He looked away. Yue-ying stood and returned to the stove to allow him his privacy. Had he been in love with Huilan? She was the sort of woman that would inspire such devotion in a man. And Bai Huang had shown himself to be the romantic sort.
She scooped tea leaves into two cups and poured the hot water over them, covering the cups with a lid to let the tea steep. Bai Huang sat wordlessly as she set his cup before him. They took a few sips and he seemed to relax, though she remained anxious. It wasn’t her place to have tea with gentlemen. Suddenly she was aware of her posture and the placement of her hands and feet, knowing everything must be all wrong.
Their eyes met and an odd sensation traveled up her spine. They both spoke at once.
“About the other night—”
“We don’t need to speak of it—”
Silence. Again a look between them that left her so confused, more so than his kiss had done. That kiss was forced upon her and there had been no finesse to it. Not even the barest attempt to seduce her into enjoying it. She absolutely would not apologize for the scratch that still marred his perfect face. He deserved it. But the Bai Huang she was looking at now seemed an entirely different man.
He smiled crookedly at her. “I know I’m a scoundrel sometimes.”
His tone was unexpectedly intimate. Heat rose up her neck until her face burned hot.
“What exactly did you need me to do?” she asked, noting to herself that she hadn’t yet agreed to help.
“Madame Lui gave me a list of everyone who was at the Hundred Songs that night. Also any patron who has come calling on Huilan. She spoke to the magistrate as well, but I believe she wasn’t nearly as forthcoming with him.”
With a smug look, Bai Huang pulled out a paper from beneath the fold of his hanfu robe and held it out to her. Yue-ying hesitated before taking it from him. She could only read a little, having memorized the few characters needed for her daily activities. She could write her own name and some basic numbers and read the signboards in the market, but little else.
The characters swam before her eyes, but she was too ashamed to admit that she couldn’t make any sense of them. “What do you intend to do with these names?”
“We go through them and look for anyone suspicious. You know everyone in the North Hamlet.”
“Only the people who come to the Lotus Palace,” she protested. “And not much more than their names and faces.”
He made an impatient sound. “You’re just being humble because etiquette demands it. Between you and me, I would wager we can account for every name here.”
Bai Huang took the paper from her and asked for a writing brush. As she went back into Mingyu’s chamber to retrieve the case from her desk, he recounted what he knew about that night, speaking loud enough to be heard from the parlor.
“The Hundred Songs hosted a banquet for prestigious patrons. The guest of honor was an imperial scholar who just received an appointment to the Ministry of Revenue. Huilan was there to receive the visitors and entertain them with song. Just before the eleventh hour, she retired momentarily to her room. That was the last time anyone saw her.”
The fine hairs along her arms rose upon hearing the story. The events were still so recent in memory. Yue-ying returned to the parlor and set the wooden writing box before him along with a sheet of paper.
“If it was like the banquet here at the Lotus Palace, people would have been coming and going all night. It would be impossible to track where everyone was at all times,” she told him.
“We have to consider everyone a suspect, then.”
Bai Huang folded back the drape of his sleeve in two crisp movements, exposing forearms that appeared surprisingly strong. She watched with fascination as he opened the case and prepared the ink as if it were a ritual he had done a thousand times. He selected the smallest brush and dipped it into the ink. Then he started reading names off the list, copying each one onto the fresh sheet with a practiced, steady hand.
There was something compelling about seeing Bai Huang so focused. His brow was creased with concentration and the lines of his profile hardened with determination. He looked nothing like the pleasure-seeking flower prince they all so loved to chuckle about.
“Fa Zhenggang. I don’t know him,” he said.
“He’s a painter who lives to the south of the market.”
“Ah.” Bai Huang looked satisfied as he marked down the detail.
They continued methodically down the list, which had nearly twenty names on it.
“Ma Jun. That name sounds familiar. He’s the head of the East Market Commission office,” Bai Huang noted.
“It’s also well-known that Huilan was a favorite of his,” she pointed out.
“Is