He could see why she was overlooked in the shadow of her famous mistress. Not because of her appearance. Mingyu had a softly curved and sultry beauty whereas Yue-ying was thinner in the face, fine-boned with a restrained sensuality that intrigued him. But Yue-ying was constantly hiding herself, trying to make herself small. Even in conversation, she couldn’t stand to speak of herself for more than a few words at a time.
That brief moment when their lips had touched in the wine cellar continued to torment him. His heart had been pounding, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation before she had soundly put him in his place with a slap across the face. He had thought he was finally getting close to Yue-ying, when he was never further away.
“Who was there at the banquet?” he asked, forcing himself back to the matter at hand.
“The banquet was sponsored by an official from the Ministry of Commerce. There were merchants and wealthy businessmen in attendance.” Yue-ying rubbed a hand over her temples. “Will you add those to the names from the Hundred Songs? The list keeps growing.”
They both sipped their tea, temporarily at a standstill. It was possible Huilan had seen or heard something important. Influence was traded at such gatherings. Secrets were exchanged. It was one of the reasons Huang spent so much time wandering happily from parlor to parlor. If only Huilan had seen fit to confide in him. If only everyone in the North Hamlet didn’t speak in such cursed riddles all the time.
“Let us concentrate on this gathering for now. Tell me everything you can remember about Huilan that night.”
He’d seen how carefully Yue-ying observed everyone and everything around her. If something significant had occurred, she would have made note of it; he was confident of that.
Yue-ying placed her palms together and propped her chin on top of them, eyes closed. He watched with fascination as the thoughts flitted across her face.
“The event was located on a pleasure boat docked in a waterway to the north of the East Market. I didn’t recognize most of the guests. Some of them were from foreign lands.” When she opened her eyes, her expression appeared troubled. Her fingers traced a restless pattern over the wood, back and forth. “I left early that night. I had forgotten about that.”
“You said Huilan was upset,” he prodded.
His question snapped her back to attention. “It was strange. Huilan was playing the pipa and she stopped midsong. Something had distracted her. She finally managed to finish the song, but she was very flustered afterward. Mingyu tried to calm her. I think that was when Mingyu decided she had too many problems to worry about and sent me home.”
“Problems?”
“I’m afraid of boats,” she confessed. She moved on quickly. “Mingyu returned later that night, but didn’t say anything. She was exhausted because it was so late.”
“Did you notice anything at the banquet that might have made Huilan nervous?”
“Not particularly. Maybe someone said something untoward to her. Merchants can be a crude lot. Many of them are too uncultured to know the difference between a courtesan and a prostitute.”
Once again, her hand strayed to her cheek. He had watched over the past half hour while she absently tucked, untucked and rearranged her hair, inadvertently drawing attention to the part of her she most wanted to obscure. The bloodred mark that made her so unique. She was always fidgeting and trying to cover her face or angle herself away. Unable to ignore it any longer, he reached out and pressed his hand gently over hers to stop her.
Huang knew he’d made a mistake when her fingers stiffened beneath his touch and she pulled away entirely, sitting as far back in her chair as she could, shoulders straight. “I should be getting back.”
He paid for the tea and had to make an extra effort to follow her as she deftly wove around the tables and moved down the stairs. He caught up to her, but remained silent as he matched her pace down the street.
“If people see us together in the North Hamlet, there will be talk,” she said, keeping her focus straight ahead.
He was forced to direct his statement to her unmovable, unwavering profile. “You don’t have to worry about your reputation with me.”
There was a pause before she pulled ahead. He caught only the trailing end of her reply.
“I am more concerned with what people will think of you, Lord Bai.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HUANG WENT TO the gambling den on a different night this week. Let the unpleasant Constable Wu ponder about that.
He still lit a candle and set it behind the dealer before taking his seat. He also had his usual sacrifice of a thousand coins, held together by strings of a hundred. There was additional silver in his purse tonight and he could feel it weighing on him. It was a dangerous temptation for him to bring so much money near a dice table, but he needed information.
The dealer greeted him with a toothy smile. Huang tossed a string of coins onto the square marked “High”, not bothering to untie it to parcel out a smaller bet. He gave another string to the dealer.
“Gao,” he requested, using the single name that his associate went by. The dealer nodded and made a signal to the doorman.
Play continued after that with the clatter of the dice, the call for more bets, the scattering of coins over the table. He lost the first string and losing made him want to lay down even more money. There was a time years ago when he had watched the cycle repeat until the black characters on the table blended together. He had finally emerged from the den to find that the sun was out and two days had passed.
He laid down his bets a little slower after the first one. Sometimes it took Gao a while to appear and once his thousand coins were gone, he would have to leave. He couldn’t risk staying with that extra silver on him.
Huang needn’t have worried. After only three rounds, a wiry, hawkish man appeared. He walked through the den with the ease of familiarity before coming to stand at the dice table.
“Lord Bai.”
“Lord Gao.”
They both mocked one another. One corner of Gao’s mouth perpetually drooped downward, but the rest of his face was smiling.
Gao carried a knife and worked for a money-lender, but operated on his own as well. He was knowledgeable about the world of crime bosses, gambling dens and other illegal, but tolerated activities within the city. Without question, Gao was an unsavory character, but Huang figured it was better to continue on with the one cutthroat he knew rather than venture out and make connections with additional cutthroats.
“I think he’s doing something to the dice,” Huang muttered, eyeing the dealer as he shook the tumbler.
“Are they speaking to you tonight?” Gao asked.
They weren’t friends, but Gao knew his mind in a way no one else did. The dice had just rolled three, four and five. He hadn’t bet that combination, but those numbers had always pleased him in a nonsensical way. That sort of strange connection with the dice and the numbers and even the sound of coins kept him coming back.
“A courtesan was killed in the Pingkang li,” Huang began.
“I heard.”
“I want to know who did it.”
Gao turned to him, still smiling. “It wasn’t me.”
Huang looked back to the table to place another bet. “You’re insufferable.”
Their association went back several years, back to the time when Huang had been a hapless scholar seeking a good time.
“I