LITMIR.BIZ

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and secrets. Suddenly the task appeared daunting.

      “Let’s continue.” He took a moment to shrug out the stiffness in his shoulders before dipping his brush again.

      She wasn’t yet certain Bai Huang’s plan was the best approach, but she was touched someone like him would be concerned with the misfortunes of one lone courtesan within the North Hamlet. She had assumed the women of the Pingkang li were nothing but diversions to men like him, their names and graces interchangeable. This one was a graceful flower or a precious gem, noted for playing the pipa or being an elegant dancer.

      “Lord Bai?”

      He looked up with the brush still poised over the paper.

      “Were you and Huilan...” she took a breath as she searched for a word that wasn’t too improper “...close?”

      “Close?”

      He was making this deliberately difficult for her.

      “Intimate,” she amended.

      He regarded her for a moment before answering. His look was one of complete seriousness. “No.”

      Yue-ying didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. There was so much she didn’t know about him. “Magistrate Li and Constable Wu suspect that you were.”

      “I know this.”

      “I told Constable Wu that I saw Huilan meeting a young man on the day of the earthquake. They were on the bridge by the temple. From where I was, he could have been anyone.”

      “It wasn’t me,” he insisted, seeing the look in her eye. “I’ve only ever spoken to Huilan in public or at the Hundred Songs.”

      She tried hard to recall more clearly. The man’s robe had been blue-gray in color without any additional accents. It was the robe of a scholar. Certainly she’d never seen Bai Huang dressed so simply.

      “I apologize for my boldness, Lord Bai,” she told him. “I didn’t mean to sound so—”

      “Intimate?” he finished for her, eyes dancing.

      She didn’t realize her face could heat so quickly. Best to stop talking. She tucked her hair behind her ear, thought about it, then untucked it in the next moment.

      It wasn’t as if she’d asked if they were involved out of jealousy. She had nothing to be jealous about. Even though he had attempted to kiss her—and it was really nothing more than an awkward attempt—this was Lord Bai, who spouted bland poetry about eyes and lips and graceful willowy figures. She wondered what comparison he would conjure were he to compose poetry about her.

      What had come over her? The boundaries of this conversation had completely slipped away from her. She wasn’t seeking a lover and, if she were, Lord Bai would be the least likely of suitors.

      Thankfully, Bai Huang turned back to the list, with her adding small touches based on what was known in the North Hamlet. By the end of the next hour, they had three sheets of paper spread out on the table.

      “It could be any of these men.” He sighed.

      “Or it could be none of them.”

      He glanced up at her, irritated because she’d spoken the truth. Then he looked back at the sheets, lifting them into the air to dry while he studied the characters. Carefully, he folded up the pages and tucked them into his robe.

      “You said Huilan was acting oddly at the temple,” he said. “Let’s start there.”

      * * *

      THE 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.

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