Gunpowder Alchemy by Jeannie Lin Read Free Book Online Page A

to a room on the first floor where a female maidservant waited, a young girl of fifteen years at most. The building contained some sleeping quarters as well, it would seem. I looked to the inspector with a question in my eyes.
    â€œPresentable clothing has been arranged for your use. Prepare yourself quickly,” Aguda instructed before backing out of the room.
    The girl directed me to a wooden tub that had been set up in a washroom. There she helped me out of my jacket and robe and loosened my hair from its knot. It had been a long time since I’d been attended to for a bath. I sank obediently into the heated water and let the steam envelop me like a shield.
    Once the layers of dust and soot were removed, the maidservant returned to help me dress. I certainly wasn’t being treated as a prisoner. I was being treated like an honored guest.
    â€œWho is it that I’m preparing to meet?” I asked the girl.
    She only shook her head and proceeded to help me into a deep green
qipao
. The neckline and hem were outlined by a border of dark brocade. A phoenix had been embroidered onto the front with the wings spread in flight, etched with vermillion and gold.
    I ran my hands over the brilliant threads, and the touch of silk whispered memories to me. Once again, that distant dream.
    Next the maidservant drew a comb through my hair before plaiting and tying it into an elaborate swallowtail knot. A fan-shaped ornament was pinned over my crown to complete the headdress. When she held up a mirror for me, an eerie feeling fluttered in my stomach.
    I looked like Mother.
    Or at least how she used to look. In Peking, she had prepared herself every day. She had always appeared regal to me; an empress in our home.
    When we’d first come to Linhua village, Mother had tried to maintain her appearance even though we never had any visitors. She dressed us each day as if we were still in Peking, where we had to present ourselves accordingly as the family of a high-ranking minister. There were days when I believed our life would continue, that we would one day return, even though Father was gone.
    I was so young then. So naive and full of empty wishes.
    After she gave birth to Tian, Mother fell into a deep fog, and Nan became busy with the baby. At first the opium had been for the pain as Mother recovered, but soon she rarely left her room.
    â€œIt feels like everything happened so long ago,” Mother had murmured to me. The cloying smoke formed a curtain between us. “All of this has happened to someone else. Someone who looks like me.”
    It was worse when Mother spoke from within the opium dream than when she said nothing at all. She had wasted away for years now and I had let her.
    â€œMy lady?” the attendant said, interrupting my memories.
    I nodded my approval absently, and the mismatched reflection in the mirror nodded back at me. The maidservant went to open the door, and I saw Inspector Aguda stationed at the end of the hall.
    â€œMiss Jin.”
    He bowed stiffly as I approached and then spoke in a hushed tone as he led me down the corridor.
    â€œRemember to keep your eyes lowered. The proper address is the full kowtow. When you are done, wait with head bowed to be spoken to.”
    The fearsome inspector was reciting etiquette like a lowly retainer. He pushed open a set of double doors to reveal an empty reception hall. A single person emerged from behind a painted screen at the opposite end.
    Curiosity made me forget the inspector’s warning. I peered at the man dressed in the embroidered blue robe before me, trying to discern why I had been brought before someone so young. There was a hint of yellow cloth peeking from the edge of his sleeve, but I didn’t know what to make of it. There was a sharpness about his cheekbones and his chin tapered to a point. The black eyes hardened as I met his gaze.
    With that, the last of the fog around me lifted. I knew his face. I knew who this