The Lotus Palace. Jeannie Lin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ TEMPLE COURTYARD was empty that morning and the old tortoise was out of his lair once more, asleep beneath the shade of a rock. The altar room was open for worshippers to come and go as they wished with the ever-present curl of incense smoke being the only sign that any shadow of a soul was about. The two of them loitered about until a middle-aged nun in gray robes came to greet them.

      Yue-ying pressed her palms together and bowed respectfully. “Elder Sister.”

      Bai Huang stood apart from them as she asked the nun about Huilan. Afterward, she bowed once again as thank-you and farewell before returning to Bai Huang.

      “The nuns say that Huilan came every month, always on the first,” Yue-ying reported. “The earthquake happened on the first as well.”

      They left the temple and walked together to the nearby bridge and looked down into the water. Bai Huang gripped the wooden rail, his hand placed inadvertently close to hers, while she held her breath, uncertain of whether she should move away or not. He was always testing the boundaries between them; inviting familiarity.

      “Her young man probably met her here every month,” he said.

      “Huilan must have used the temple visits to get permission to leave the Hundred Songs,” she surmised.

      Most of the courtesans were bonded servants or slaves to their den mothers. Their personal time was carefully guarded.

      “I wonder if he knows that she won’t ever return.” The water reflected a ripple of light over his face and his expression looked distant. “On the first day of next month, he’ll wait here for her, anxious and lonely.”

      Bai Huang had a scholar’s heart, all full of drama and tragic longing. But such romantic ideals were a luxury of the upper class.

      They had passed a peasant woman sitting beside a basket at the bridge’s entrance. Yue-ying broke away from Bai Huang to go to her.

      “Scallion cakes, miss!” The woman repeated her hawker’s cry.

      Yue-ying recalled that same cry when she’d been passing by after the earthquake. “Are you here every day, Auntie?” she asked.

      “Every day from sunup to sundown,” the graying woman said. Her gaze shifted behind Yue-ying. “Unless it’s raining. Scallion cakes, sir?”

      “Are they delicious?” Bai Huang came up to stand behind Yue-ying.

      “The best, my lord.” The woman lifted the lid of her basket to show off the flat, yellow pancakes.

      “I’ll have two.”

      “Why not make it four?” the woman urged, taking in Bai Huang’s fine robe. “You’ll wish you had more as soon as you’re done.”

      Yue-ying could hear the smile in his tone as he answered, “Four, then.”

      “Do you recall seeing a young woman, about the same age as me?” Yue-ying asked as Bai Huang handed over his coin. “Pale-skinned, brown hair. Very pretty. She came here at the beginning of every month.”

      “I know who you’re speaking of. Skin white as snow. Every month, without fail.”

      “Was there ever anyone with her?”

      “Ah, yes! A young fellow.”

      Yue-ying glanced at Bai Huang. “Similar in look to him?”

      “Oh, no. My lord here is much taller. And much more handsome. This man was round of face. His clothes were plain.”

      They left with their scallion cakes and a description which, unfortunately, could fit any number of men in the ward.

      Bai Huang pointed a finger at her. “You didn’t believe that it wasn’t me meeting Huilan,” he accused.

      “Not true. I was just using you as a point of comparison.”

      He snorted.

      “And the woman charged you extra for the scallion cakes,” Yue-ying said out of the corner of her mouth.

      “She-demon.”

      He split the cakes with her and took a hearty bite. Yue-ying nibbled at hers and wondered whether the she-demon he referred to was her or the peasant woman.

      “So Huilan had a secret lover,” he concluded.

      “Someone without means. Otherwise he could have courted her openly at the Hundred Songs. He might have been frustrated, unable to have the woman he desired. That could push a man to commit murder.”

      Bai Huang regarded her silently. “This sort of behavior is something you’ve experienced yourself?”

      “Not directly.”

      But she’d witnessed it. Such things were inevitable when women were bought and sold as property. When commerce was confused with sex and emotion. To pleasure seekers, the North Hamlet was supposed to be a place of beauty, poetry and music. All of the courtesans worked to perpetuate that illusion, but Yue-ying was no courtesan.

      “The sadness of it is, such deaths are usually at the hands of angry patrons or lovers.” Her mouth twisted cynically. “Some men mistake it for passion.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      HUANG WALKED YUE-YING to the front doors of the Lotus Palace, at which time she bowed, called him Lord Bai and disappeared abruptly through the curtains. He was left wondering whether she’d only accompanied him because he was noble-born and wealthy enough that she was obligated to defer to him. He hoped it wasn’t true. He was growing rather fond of her honesty.

      He was so used to lies that his time with Yue-ying seemed like the only real conversation he’d had for months. If only he hadn’t muddied the waters with that failed kiss in the darkness of the Lotus Palace cellar.

      Before returning to his rented quarters, he stopped by the Hundred Songs to present a gift of silver. The house was still in mourning and would remain so for the traditional forty-nine-day period. During that time, the Hundred Songs would have to rely on the generosity of their patrons to keep everyone fed.

      “Lord Bai! How good of you to come.” Madame Lui approached dressed in her white mourning robe. She clasped both of his hands in hers. “We were all so frightened last night.”

      “Frightened? Why was that, Madame?”

      “Sit and have some tea and I’ll tell you.”

      It would be rude to simply come by, leave his gift, then go, so Huang sat down in the main parlor with Madame Lui while the girls brought tea and a small plate of rice flour cakes.

      “What happened last night?” he asked again once the formalities had been settled.

      “We heard footsteps upstairs.” Madame Lui leaned closer and lowered her voice, not to keep any secret, but to impress upon him the seriousness of what she was describing. “In Huilan’s bedchamber.”

      He remained skeptical. СКАЧАТЬ