The Lotus Palace by Jeannie Lin Read Free Book Online Page B

and pins and makeup pots. She had heard little about the mysterious body in the boat while she was certain the North Hamlet would be talking about Huilan long and loud. There would be a flood of verses lamenting her early passing, the silencing of her song, her tragic beauty.
    She felt sadness over Huilan as well. How could she not? Huilan had been close to Yue-ying in age and so full of life. The rumors said Huilan had been strangled to death. She had died struggling and afraid, her final breath forced out of her. For that to be the last thing one felt on this Earth—
    Yue-ying wiped away the tear that fell unexpectedly down her cheek. Strange to feel so deeply over someone she barely knew, someone she rarely spoke to. The last time Yue-ying had seen Huilan, they had engaged in a silly, meaningless conversation about the availability of lychees. So much of the banter of the tearooms, the pleasure houses and banquet halls was without any true meaning or purpose.
    But how could she have known to say something meaningful to Huilan that morning? That it would be her last chance to do so?
    Mingyu was calling her from the parlor. Yue-ying straightened to go to her, wondering if she should tell Mingyu how beautiful she was, how naive she could be, how much Mingyu’s distant nature sometimes hurt her and how much Yue-ying cared for her.
    * * *
     
    T HE H UNDRED S ONGS was a short walk from the Lotus. The colorful banners in front had been replaced with white drapery, signifying that the house was in mourning. The sound of chanting and the hollow tap of the prayer drum could be heard from the street. She and Mingyu had just reached the front door when a dark figure at the street corner caught her eye. Constable Wu started toward her, looming larger with every step until she was hidden in his shadow.
    “Miss Yue-ying, if I may speak with you.”
    She glanced over her shoulder, but Mingyu had already disappeared into the Hundred Songs to join the other mourners.
    To her relief, Wu Kaifeng directed her to the nearest teahouse rather than the magistrate’s yamen, but it was difficult to relax with his iron gaze fixed on her. His height was exaggerated by his build, which was long and lean. His facial features were elongated as well, with an eagle’s nose and high cheekbones that tapered down to a sharp chin. He wasn’t an attractive man. He wasn’t entirely ugly either, but if she had to choose—she would say his face fit his position. It was an intimidating face, not one that evoked pleasant thoughts.
    The server brought two bowls of the house tea and Wu gave her a chance to take a sip before speaking.
    “I have questions about Lord Bai Huang. I understand you are familiar with him.”
    It wasn’t posed as a question, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”
    “He is close to your mistress as well?”
    That raised her defenses. “Lord Bai and Lady Mingyu are no closer than the moon to the stars.”
    “But he’s been courting her.”
    “That’s what scholar-gentlemen do as a pastime. They ride horses, they compose poetry and they court beautiful ladies.”
    Wu raised his eyebrows. They were black and as intimidating as the rest of his face.
    She didn’t know why she’d spoken so cynically. It was possible Bai Huang was genuinely taken with Mingyu. She was exquisitely beautiful, with a dancer’s grace and a poet’s wit, and she made a livelihood out of captivating men.
    “Why do you ask about Lord Bai?” she inquired.
    “Our investigation into the death of Lady Huilan is hindered by one unfortunate fact: we suspect an aristocrat from a well-respected and powerful family.”
    All the air rushed out of her. “But Lord Bai doesn’t seem to be the sort,” she gasped.
    “Do you know many killers, Miss Yue-ying?” Wu asked pointedly, and it was a sharp, finely honed point at that.
    She fell silent, but her mind was not at all quiet. Surely an affair between Bai Huang and Huilan couldn’t have escaped notice, but