Constable Wu came directly to them. His gaze passed over the gathering and he managed a stiff bow. Afterward, he straightened and stood rigidly, uncomfortable with the surroundings. Though he held an appointed position, he was still a working man, subservient to nearly everyone present. He addressed the magistrate.
“Sir, there is a matter that needs your attention.” His austere countenance cast gloom over the banquet just as it had by the river.
“Please excuse us.” Li Yen stood and the two men moved to stand beside one of the columns.
After a brief exchange, the magistrate returned. “My apologies for leaving so early. Lady Mingyu.” He bowed once to her, before turning to Bai Huang. “Lord Bai, I am happy to have met you, but regret that we didn’t get to converse at any length. Perhaps you would like to walk with me?”
Bai Huang tilted his head in surprise. A confused smile touched his lips, but he stood and took his leave as well, leaving behind more than one set of raised eyebrows.
* * *
THE EVENING WAS warm and all the lanterns of the North Hamlet were aglow, prolonging the festival atmosphere of the day. It would have been a good night for walking, except it was difficult to feel comfortable with Li Yen beside him and his dark and brooding servant trailing behind.
It was well-known that the Li and Bai clans supported different factions in the imperial court, with Chancellor Li Deyu dominating the court for the reign of the last two emperors. A distant relation, the magistrate would insist.
“This was my first Duanwu in the capital,” Magistrate Li remarked as they continued down the lane. “I found the festival very enjoyable.”
“A good day indeed,” Huang concurred. “My dragonboat won today so I have a heavy purse to show for it. Are we headed to the center of the Three Lanes?”
“My apologies for this delay. Has Lord Bai ever been to the House of a Hundred Songs?”
The hairs on the back of Huang’s neck rose. “The Hundred Songs boasts a few of the most talented courtesans in the district...outside of Lady Mingyu, of course.”
“I promised to make an appearance there tonight,” Li said smoothly. “If you don’t mind accompanying me?”
Li turned onto the central lane and Huang followed dutifully, keeping his guard up. The magistrate’s soft-spoken manner hid a well of ambition.
The Hundred Songs was always a cheerful place. Huang was known there as well. The house wasn’t nearly as grand in style or reputation as the Lotus Palace, but pink lanterns and carved phoenixes gave it a romantic look. The atmosphere inside was busy, but more muted than the revelry they had left behind. The hostess greeted them with some reserve.
“Why so quiet this evening, Little Plum?” Huang asked with a smile.
Mei ducked her head and beckoned them to follow her. Music floated throughout the halls, a harmonious blend of the rain-song sound of the pipa and the trill of a flute. The three of them followed the courtesan to the second floor. Huang became more aware of Constable Wu’s heavy step behind him. Just ahead of him, Magistrate Li was chattering about music.
“Our household employed an old musician who played the pipa,” Li was saying. “He tried to teach me once, but I had no talent for it.”
The magistrate was filling the silence with nonsense—this from a man known for being very skilled with words. They halted at a door midway down the hall and Mei met his eyes briefly, before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.
As he followed Magistrate Li into the chamber, Huang was very much aware they had gone directly to the quarters without any question or introduction. He also knew who typically entertained in these rooms. The sitting area was empty, but the curtain to the inner chamber was open.
Huilan was lying on the bed, her head thrown back.
Huang went to her. Her name caught in his throat, his head pounding while he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. A faint hope flickered in him as he took hold of her wrist, but he already knew. He had known the moment he’d seen her. Huilan’s complexion was no longer moon-pale and luminous. It was colorless. The stillness about her went beyond sleep. There was no way to describe it, but he recognized the aberration of it immediately.
He sank down to his knees on the floor, unable to take his eyes off her. Her throat was bruised. Someone had ruined it forever. She would never sing again.
“She’s dead,” he said heavily, a part of him feeling dead as well. He’d just seen her that morning.
“You knew her?” Magistrate Li asked.
“Everyone knew Huilan,” he replied sharply. “She was one of the Four Beauties.”
The other two men were watching impassively by the door. Huang clenched his fists as anger heated his veins. They had known Huilan was dead and brought him there to watch his reaction. She’d been left alone all this time.
A knot formed in his chest. He was confused and horrified and at a loss for anything intelligent to say.
“Perhaps you should come out here,” Magistrate Li suggested quietly.
Huang nodded. He took one final look at Huilan. She was the youngest of the Beauties. Her cheeks were gently rounded, which evoked a fresh-faced innocence. The violence was all the worse for that.
* * *
“DID YOU SPEAK with Huilan earlier today?” Magistrate Li asked.
They were in the sitting room just outside the courtesan’s chamber. Huang looked up from his tea, which had gone cold. “At the Grand Canal during the race.”
Li nodded gravely. “She was so full of youth and beauty. Such a tragedy. Do you come to the Hundred Songs often?”
“Once in a while. Huilan sang the last time I was here.”
Huang ran a hand over his face. Huilan had been evasive that morning, but he should have insisted she explain herself. He should have never let her leave alone. He should have remembered the look of fear in her eyes when they’d first spoken.
“Were you her lover?” Li continued.
So this was an interrogation, then.
Huang straightened and met Magistrate Li eye to eye. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Well acquainted, then.”
Li was grasping at something. The constable came forward from his station in the corner and held out a folded paper. Magistrate Li looked it over before placing it onto the table between them.
“This was found lying beside Lady Huilan’s bed.” His finger rested over the red seal stamped onto the paper. “Is this your family’s mark?”
Huang knew what it was without looking. The paper he’d given Huilan was an official permit used to travel outside the gated wards after curfew.
“Did she use this to go to you at night?”
“I told you, we were not lovers,” he said evenly.
Magistrate Li stared him down. “How did Lady Huilan come to possess this pass?”
“She must have taken it from me.”
“Without your knowledge?”
His lips lifted sardonically. “I often drink too much.”
Huilan had asked for his help to leave the quarter. He often moved freely through the wards at night, one of the privileges of the aristocracy, and he’d assumed that was why she’d gone to him.
“Madame Lui can speak to the extent of my association with Lady Huilan,” Huang said. “The life of a courtesan isn’t very private.”
At that moment, the headmistress entered with