The Jade Temptress Page 9

  As constable, Kaifeng knew what fear looked like. It wasn’t fear that he saw in her eyes as they focused on him.

  “Why would you care what this constable thinks?” he asked quietly.

  There was no menace in his approach, but Mingyu backed away nonetheless until her shoulder blades collided against the wooden column.

  “I’m ill-mannered,” he continued. “Unsightly. Nothing to anyone that matters.”

  Her breathing quickened as he bent to her and he could see her pupils growing wide and dark. The effect was strikingly sensual. Mingyu raised her hand to his face. Her fingers trembled as she touched the hard line of his jaw.

  “It’s not true,” she murmured. “You’re not really like that.”

  He smiled crookedly at her. “Not ugly?”

  “Not...nothing.”

  Her face was tilted toward him. She regarded him from beneath her lashes, her cheeks flushed, and there was nothing he could do but kiss her. He pressed his mouth to hers, searching. For what, he didn’t know, but his heart beat hard and fast when she didn’t pull away.

  Kaifeng didn’t reach for her with his hands. Only their lips touched and hers were soft and warm and more tempting than he could have ever imagined. Mingyu returned the kiss tentatively, also searching. The tip of her tongue caressed his mouth in a feather touch that tasted of cinnamon and sweetness.

  The drums had stopped beating. It wouldn’t be long before the others returned to invade their sanctuary, but until then he took what he could from the moment.

  When they finally broke apart, they remained close. He could hear the catch in Mingyu’s breath when she spoke.

  “Don’t think too much of this,” she warned, so soft that it was a whisper.

  Her head tilted upward to look at him. Though her eyes were clouded with desire, he could see her mind was racing, calculating. His hands circled her waist and came to rest over her hips.

  “I won’t,” he promised before kissing her once more to chase her thoughts away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “INSPECTOR XI LUN was recently promoted by the Emperor himself,” Magistrate Li reported.

  Kaifeng rode beside him on horseback as they headed toward the residential ward in the northeastern section of the city. They were accompanied by a clerk to act as record keeper. With General Deng Zhi laid to rest, Li Yen had finally deemed it appropriate for them to speak to the family. He also took the hour-long journey as an opportunity to review the details he’d collected on his new adversary.

  “Xi Lun has enjoyed some success weeding out corruption at the prefecture level and is considered one of the Emperor’s chief reformers. New blood. Now he seems to have targeted us as a way to advance his career.”

  Over the past week, the censor had visited the magistrate’s offices every day, at times staying for over an hour to review their progress. At other times the visit was merely cursory, just so they would be reminded they were under scrutiny.

  “Considering this, how should we handle this investigation?” Kaifeng asked.

  “Continue as you always have,” Li said with a defiant scowl. “Let me deal with Xi. I’ll put the clerks to work meticulously recording every word spoken and every last detail. The inspector will have a mountain of paperwork to climb.”

  “Perhaps our efforts are better spent focusing on the case,” he suggested dryly.

  “If my suspicions are correct, there is more at work than just this case. Someone was trying to discredit us before General Deng’s murder.”

  The walls surrounding the northeastern ward were ostensibly higher and decorated with banners. There were also more guards at the gate and the residences inside were vast palaces of painted wood and tile. Only the wealthiest families and the highest ranking officials, often carrying generations of noble blood, kept households in this part of the city. It occurred to Kaifeng that Magistrate Li had to have family connections here even though he made his own home within the more humble surroundings of the judicial compound.

  Deng’s mansion was marked with a wooden placard over the front gate. A team of attendants rushed out to take charge of their horses as soon as they dismounted and an elderly manservant in a plain brown robe stood in front of the house to greet them.

  The servant introduced himself as Yuan Lo, the house steward. Mister Yuan was thin in the face and there were slivers of gray at his temples visible from beneath his cap. He carried himself in a manner that was both respectful and obedient.

  “Magistrate Li.” He bowed at the waist to the precise prescribed angle and straightened. To Kaifeng and the clerk, he afforded a nod. “This humble servant welcomes you. Your visit honors us.”

  The courtyard was decorated with a well-tended garden, each rock and leaf in place. A circle of trees had been planted along the perimeter. Half were in flower while the others displayed a burst of yellow-and-red leaves. A fish pond graced the far end, spanned by a walking bridge.

  Kaifeng was not usually impressed by such luxury, but his hovel could fit within the space of the fish pond. The carp here lived a more luxurious life than most of the inhabitants of the city.

  This was the sort of wealth required to capture the attention of a courtesan like Mingyu, at least for more than a stolen moment. After the kiss, Mingyu had granted him a soft, wistful smile as they parted. They both knew nothing more could become of it.

  “Please come inside for tea.”

  The servant’s invitation drew Kaifeng back to the present and the investigation. They followed the man into the main part of the house and entered a parlor. A middle-aged woman stood inside to greet them. Her hair was fixed into a tidy knot at the nape of her neck and her robe was cut simply, dyed in a rich green color that was almost black to the eye.

  “Magistrate Li.” She bowed respectfully. “I am General Deng’s wife.”

  “Deng Furen.”

  He addressed her with the proper honorific before taking a seat upon one of the lacquered chairs. Kaifeng and the young clerk remained standing.

  “Madame, we are sorry to intrude upon you during this unfortunate time.”

  “I understand. You must do your duty.”

  Madame Deng’s hair was grayer than one would expect on such a young face. It was streaked through with pale silver, though her face was unlined except for a few faint creases about her mouth. They gave her a perpetually anxious expression, though granted she was still mourning her husband’s recent death.

  “When was the last time you saw the general?”

  “The evening before he was found. We shared the evening meal and spoke of routine things. He left early the next morning while most of the house was still asleep.”

  “Did he tell you where he was going?”

  “He didn’t need to. My husband’s business was his own. I only concern myself with the running of the household and our son’s education.”

  “Of course, Madame,” Li replied hastily. “Did anything seem unusual? Did the general appear concerned or agitated?”

  “No. He had no reason to be.”

  According to Madame Deng, her husband also had no enemies. He was well-respected. No, there was no one she knew of who resented his status. The Emperor himself had honored Deng Zhi with a state funeral fit for a hero, she reminded them.

  “The Son of Heaven commissioned a head carved out of jade for him,” she boasted. “So my husband could be buried whole.”

  The widow spoke with pride, but a moment later she broke. Blinking rapidly, she dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. It was her first display of emotion since the conversation had begun, but she quickly composed herself.

  Kaifeng bit his tongue through it all. The interview was entirely worthless. It was clear Deng’s widow refused to admit there was any unrest in the home. Certainly not to strangers. If she had
witnessed her husband showing fear or anger, it was her duty to remain silent and protect his privacy, even if it meant his killer would never be found.

  Madame Deng wasn’t concerned with justice or retribution. Public face and respectability were more important to her.

  Murder, Kaifeng knew, tainted everyone involved, even its victims. Murder involved secrets, dishonesty and ill-fortune, whether deserved or undeserved.

  “Madame, did you know your husband was going to meet a woman?” Kaifeng interjected.

  The widow shot him a startled look, shocked that such a creature would speak. Her gaze narrowed momentarily, but she turned to Magistrate Li to answer. Apparently conversing with a constable was beneath her.

  “I was aware that my husband would use the property to meet a particular courtesan. He has had a long-time association with her, but the particulars of that relationship were his own affair.” She tucked her handkerchief into her sleeve and smoothed out her robe with fastidious care. “I hear Lady Mingyu is very talented, the embodiment of elegance and cultivation. I have no wish to darken my husband’s memory with sordid gossip.”

  “That was not my intention, Furen, but it would help to have a more honest account on your part.”

  “Constable Wu,” Li admonished him, not sharply, but certainly in a firm tone.

  “I only wished to know if it was common knowledge where the general would be that morning.”

  He also meant to assess whether there was any ill-will between the two women as Mingyu had insinuated.

  “Perhaps you should speak to the servants in the household instead, Constable.”

  Kaifeng bit his tongue and bowed to the magistrate. “Yes, sir.”

  Leaving the magistrate and Deng’s widow to their conversation, Kaifeng retreated from the parlor back out into the sunlight of the courtyard. Li Yen, for his frustrating adherence to etiquette, was also an intelligent official. Kaifeng trusted Li would get the answers they needed, even if he had to take the whole afternoon to ask politely for them.

  The garden outside was empty. The elderly steward and other servants had disappeared into the depths of the house, but Kaifeng saw movement in the inner courtyard. The flash of a steel blade caught his eye.

  He ventured through the circular passage that separated the two areas and discovered a youth of about fifteen or sixteen years sparring with a tall bearded man who appeared to be his instructor. Despite the youth’s age, there was maturity in his stance and confidence in how he handled his sword.

  “Much better, my young lord,” his master praised at the end of the match. “Be careful of overextending yourself when attacking the left side.”

  The youth’s concentration, which had been unshakable during the sparring match, had become divided. He was staring at Kaifeng.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Wu Kaifeng, head constable working under Magistrate Li Yen.”

  “Constable Wu, eh? I see you have a sword at your side. Do you have any experience using it?” His question was delivered with a haughty air.

  “I served in the militia in Suzhou province.”

  The youth look pleased. “I am Deng Enlai, son of Deng Zhi. Would the constable be interested in a sparring match?”

  “I think that would not be appropriate at this time.”

  “Not appropriate for you to honor the request of a high general’s son in his own home? I need practice against an opponent who is much larger than I. It is not always easy finding one.”

  Kaifeng assessed the young man’s height. Enlai must have taken after his father, though Kaifeng had only witnessed the general’s stature without his head. What Kaifeng had seen was a broad-shouldered man with a torso as thick as a tree trunk. Deng possessed a warrior’s physique which he had passed down to his son. Enlai already towered over his master.

  “If the young lord insists, then I must comply.”

  “Oh, I insist.” There was a gleam in the youth’s eye.

  If he wanted answers, it would be a benefit to ingratiate himself with the new lord of the house. Kaifeng entered the clearing at the center of the courtyard.

  “Don’t hold anything back, Constable.”

  “Then you might consider exchanging our blades for practice swords.”

  Enlai made a rude noise. “A practice blade lacks the weight and heft of a true sword. It teaches a warrior bad habits.”

  Kaifeng had to admit he admired the sentiment. Deng’s son wielded a broadsword much like his own. It was single-edged with a straight blade. The same dao that was issued to officers of the imperial army.

  They squared off against one another at opposite ends of the clearing. The arms master remained close by to observe the match. The young lord advanced and Kaifeng stepped forward to engage, committing to the movement. His first attack sent Enlai a few steps back and put him on the defensive.

  Deng Enlai was indeed dedicated to his sword technique. Kaifeng could see the precision born of drills and repetitive stances and forms. Even as tall as Enlai was, Kaifeng was nearly a head taller, his reach longer. He also had the experience that came from fighting, not for honor or reputation, but for survival.

  Kaifeng stayed on the offensive, gaining ground step by step. The clash of metal rang out through the courtyard as Enlai was forced to parry a blow. The young man was well within striking range and off-balance. Sweat gathered above his eyes and he swiped it away impatiently.

  It was only a matter of time. Enlai was showing signs of exhaustion and Kaifeng detected the moment when his guard lowered. His blade slipped through the opening to slice into Enlai’s upper arm.

  The youth fell back, one hand clutching the cut. To his credit, Enlai didn’t drop his sword. His eyes flashed with pure hatred as he stood his ground at the edge of the practice area. Kaifeng knew that look. It was fueled by a dangerous mix of anger and insult. Even the weapons master straightened and started toward them with a look of alarm on his face.

  A moment later, the storm cloud dissipated as quickly as it came. Enlai stepped back and bowed.

  “Thank you for educating me, Constable.” His jaw remained stiff as he spoke. “This has been a valuable lesson.”

  “I was only able to take the advantage because the young lord was winded from his earlier practice session,” Kaifeng remarked.

  An attendant rushed forward to see to Deng’s wound, but the youth waved him away. “This is nothing. Go fetch the case from the collection room.”

  Enlai handed over his sword to his master and Kaifeng took that as a sign to sheathe his own weapon.

  “Since you’ve proven yourself with the sword, Constable Wu, I wish to show you something, a family treasure, as a token of my respect.”

  The attendant returned carrying a long lacquered case in pure black. Kneeling, he held the box up to the young lord, lifting it with both hands over his head. With the same sense of ceremony, Enlai opened the lid.

  “This was gifted to my father by the former Emperor himself. It was forged by sword-maker Ou Yitai.” Reverently, Enlai removed a sword from the silk wrappings and held it out.

  Kaifeng took the sword in hand, appreciating the weight of the steel before unsheathing it to reveal no more than two finger-lengths of the blade. The metal gleamed in the sunlight.

  “Fine steelwork,” Kaifeng remarked as he returned the sword.

  “So few can truly appreciate its value.”

  Deng Enlai unsheathed the blade in dramatic fashion, making it sing as it slid free of the scabbard. Another attendant wheeled out what looked like a thick column of bamboo affixed to a wooden base.

  The youth positioned himself before the bamboo column, taking one breath in and letting one breath out before stilling himself. With both hands, he gradually lifted the blade, slow and steady, before striking with the quickness
of a viper.

  A thick section of bamboo fell to the ground.

  The bamboo was hollow, but as Kaifeng inspected the column, he appreciated how the sword had sliced clean through. The edge was smooth, without splinters.

  “A very well-crafted blade indeed,” he commended.

  “The best,” the son insisted.

  While the group watched in silence, Enlai cleaned the blade before sheathing it and placing it back into its case. As the lid closed, Enlai grew quiet.

  “The sword was one of my father’s most valuable possessions. And now it passes to me.”

  He waved the attendants and his sword master away.

  “General Deng was well respected,” Kaifeng began. “And a formidable opponent, but a man such as your father must have attracted many enemies.”

  “All great warriors have enemies,” Enlai declared. “My father’s adversaries refused to face him in battle. They preferred to attack him in underhanded ways, hurling accusations in the imperial court. It’s no surprise they sent a filthy assassin to do this deed.”

  The son bowed his head. He touched a hand absently to the cut on his arm, peering at the bloodstain on his fingers. “Father’s death was undeserved. Beheaded as if he were some cowardly traitor. I vowed to find the bastard who did it and visit the same punishment upon him.”

  “Who were these adversaries you speak of?”

  “Everyone,” Deng Enlai said through his teeth. His expression hardened as he looked up at the beheaded bamboo stalk. “Everyone.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “INSPECTOR XI LUN has requested a private meeting with you tonight.”

  Those were Madame Sun’s first words to Mingyu that morning as she descended from her chamber.

  “Quite a triumph for you, Mother. General Deng is only ten days gone and already you’ve recruited his replacement.”

  “Oh, don’t pretend to carry any sentiment for him. You didn’t even attend the funeral.”

  As if standing in a crowd of thousands would prove her devotion. Mingyu had hoped to get through the morning without a confrontation. Over the past few days, Madame had become increasingly short-tempered, going so far as to shout at Little Hong in front of guests when she spilled a few drops of tea. Whenever their headmistress was upset, life became more difficult for everyone at the Lotus Palace.