The Lotus Palace. Jeannie Lin

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СКАЧАТЬ WERE NOT uncommon in the capital city, though this was the most violent one Yue-ying had yet to experience. Everything that could fall had fallen. The dressing room where she slept was a disaster: silk robes were strewn all over the floor and the powder table had overturned, spilling pots and jars everywhere. She was lucky it hadn’t fallen on top of her.

      Madame Sun set the other girls to work clearing the parlors and banquet room downstairs. The Lotus Palace was one of the larger establishments in the pleasure quarter of the North Hamlet, also known as the Pingkang li. There were seven ladies, courtesans or courtesans-in-training, along with Old Auntie and Yue-ying.

      The courtesans all called Madame Sun “Mother” and did whatever she told them. Even Mingyu, who was the most successful and thus most favored of the “sisters”, never disobeyed her. Yue-ying had heard that Madame Sun could be a demonness with her bamboo switch, though she had yet to witness it.

      Unlike the others, Yue-ying had no one to answer to but Mingyu. Also unlike the other girls, she possessed no literary or musical skills to elevate herself in status. Her fate had been decided from birth by a bright red birthmark that curved along her left cheek. The stain rendered her unsuitable for the pleasure houses, for who wished to invest time and money to train a courtesan with a ruined face? A prostitute required no such training.

      She was a maidservant now, but up until four years ago she had been nothing but a warm body. The Lotus was indeed a palace compared to the brothel where she’d once lived and she no longer hid her face behind a thick layer of powder. No one cared if a servant was ugly, and no one paid any attention to her when Mingyu was present.

      Yue-ying focused on setting their quarters back in order, righting the dressing table and picking the robes off the floor. She selected a light one that was suitable for the warm summer weather before shoving an armful of clothing into the wardrobe. Then she sorted through the cosmetics, salvaging what she could.

      Later, as she was fixing Mingyu’s hair, another tremor rocked the pavilion. The force of it was slight in comparison to that morning’s quake, but she inadvertently jabbed Mingyu’s scalp with the long pin she was holding.

      “Forgive me,” Yue-ying murmured after regaining her balance.

      Mingyu remained seated calmly at the dressing table. “There is nothing to forgive.”

      Carefully, Yue-ying inserted the pin into a coil of dark hair to keep it in place. She worked in silence, mentally going over the ever-growing list of tasks she needed to accomplish that day.

      “What if something happened to me?” Mingyu asked out of nowhere.

      The phrasing of the question sounded decidedly odd. “No one was hurt. We were all very fortunate.”

      The courtesan was insistent. “I do not mean just this morning. What if something should happen in the future? Earthquakes often occur one after another. What if the next one brings the building down? Or if the ground opens up?”

      “You were not afraid of earthquakes yesterday,” Yue-ying reminded her gently.

      Mingyu sniffed. “You know I am not speaking only of earthquakes.”

      Yue-ying could see Mingyu’s eyebrows arch sharply in the bronze mirror. Even agitated, she was still beautiful.

      “Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen. There is no need to go searching for tragedy.”

      Mingyu said nothing more while Yue-ying finished dressing her in a robe of jade-green embroidered with a floral design. The courtesan resembled the paintings of immortals with her luminous skin and eyes that were mysterious and dark. The silk swirled around her as she strode from the dressing room. Her expression was tranquil, but her movements were anything but.

      Yue-ying moved with purpose once Mingyu was gone; sweeping the parlor and making it presentable, propping up the broken screen that covered the bedchamber entrance as best she could. The inner rooms she left to be sorted out later.

      She was right to move quickly. It wasn’t long before one of Mingyu’s patrons came to call, even though it was only the middle of the morning. Apparently, the earthquake had woken up the city and everyone was eager to gossip.

      Taizhu, an appointed court historian, was an occasional visitor to the Lotus, though he had been coming to speak with Mingyu quite often lately. There was a touch of gray to his beard and his face was creased with more laughter lines than frown lines. For an academic, he was an ox of a man with thick shoulders and arms. The indigo color of his robe spoke of his elevated status as a member of the Hanlin Academy.

      Yue-ying went to set a clay pot onto the tea stove in the inner chamber. It took her a moment to light the charcoal inside it. When she returned, the elderly scholar was already standing beside the wall with ink brush in hand.

      Taizhu wielded his brush like a swordsman, writing onto the wooden panels in black ink. Afterward, he stood back to admire his handiwork and read aloud:

      “‘A new Son of Heaven takes the throne. Who is it now?

      Hard to say, when each one seems like the last.

      But this time the Earth has chosen to pay homage.

      Should we all fall to our knees?’”

      With a coy look, Mingyu took the brush from the historian’s hands. She presented an elegant contrast to Taizhu’s warrior pose, with one hand holding her sleeve, her brush flowing in small, graceful movements. The old scholar generously read her addition once she had finished.

      “‘This humble servant thanks the kind gentleman for precious words.

      From a revered talent who has studied the Four Books and Five Classics.

      But the tea has not yet been poured,

      Is common courtesy no longer taught in the Hanlin Academy?’”

      He burst out laughing. “Lady Mingyu thinks I’m a grumbling old man.”

      It was a common game in the Pingkang li, the dueling of words back and forth. Yue-ying slipped past them and headed back to the inner chambers to see to the tea. She had little grasp of the sort of language the scholars enjoyed.

      The water was ready. Yue-ying measured out tea leaves into two cups and set the pot beside them on the tray. Another guest arrived as she returned to the parlor and she nearly ran into him, tea and all.

      Bai Huang was a well-known fixture of the entertainment district. He was a night owl, a flirt, a spendthrift and an eternal student, having failed the imperial exams three times. He was dressed in an opulent blue robe and his topknot was fixed with a silver pin.

      “My lord—” She started to mumble out an apology while trying to keep from spilling the tea.

      She was met with easy laughter as the young aristocrat reached out to steady the tray. His hand closed over hers and her pulse did a little leap, despite itself.

      The corners of his mouth lifted, gracing her with a sly smile, before turning to the others. “Only tea?” he asked with disappointment. “Where’s the wine?”

      Taizhu waved him over. “Ah, the young Lord Bai is always good for a few laughs.”

      Bai СКАЧАТЬ