typically hire out registered courtesans?”
“It’s not too uncommon,” she replied. “Though if all one wants is some music and a few pretty faces, they could go to the less reputable houses in the upper lane or hire song girls who aren’t registered. It would be less expensive.”
The aristocracy generally looked down upon the merchant class as being greedy and common, but to the pleasure house madams money was money.
“The Market Commissioner was trying to make a good impression,” Bai Huang reasoned. “He had an association with Huilan, so he invited her to attend, but she met someone or saw something that frightened her there.”
“Nothing unusual happened while I was there. I can ask Mingyu if she remembers anything once she returns from the hot springs.”
The words left her lips before she realized that he had drawn her back into the investigation with hardly any effort at all. The scoundrel.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
He stopped and turned. “Why were you afraid that night?”
“I don’t like the water.”
He leaned a touch closer, lowering his voice as if to keep from frightening her. “We’re close to water now.”
They were beside the canal and a slight breeze rippled over the surface. His gaze was intent on her. A strand of hair fell from his topknot to whip about his face as clouds gathered overhead.
She looked to the darkening sky. “It’s going to rain.”
“You haven’t given me an answer,” he said gently.
She sighed. “I already told you, I don’t like boats. I’ve never liked them. The motion makes me feel dizzy.”
“Is that all?” he pressed.
A boat had brought her to Changan after she was taken away from her family.
“It really is going to rain,” she said instead.
Brushing past him, she moved back toward the street. His footsteps sounded behind her and she quickened her step, using the coming rain as an excuse to escape. What did it matter to Lord Bai whether she liked boats or his bad poetry? Why did she matter to him at all?
She didn’t matter, she reminded herself. He just needed her help to solve the mystery of Huilan’s murder.
A drop of water fell against her hand. And then another against the bridge of her nose. Within moments, a few drops had become a thousand. She hadn’t brought a parasol since she’d assumed she would only be making a small trip to the market, not wandering outside the quarter.
Yue-ying searched about for shelter as rainfall filled her vision, making it hard to see. Suddenly Bai Huang was beside her, tucking her against his shoulder.
“Come on!” he shouted. He had to shout because water was roaring from the heavens now.
He draped an arm overhead to try to cover her. The act was more chivalrous than practical. By the time they found a small park and ran beneath a wooden pavilion, her hair was drenched. He had managed to shield her robe from getting soaked through.
She swiped a hand over her face to clear the water from her eyes. He did the same and then they stared out at the falling curtain of water. Next they looked to the single bench, big enough for two. Yue-ying decided she’d rather remain standing. It was summer and it was Changan. The rain could be gone within moments and she didn’t care to invite intimacy in the meantime.
She leaned her elbows onto the wooden rail that surrounded the pavilion and looked out into the park. All she could see was a smudge of green mixed in with gray. A heartbeat later, Bai Huang perched himself beside her, his posture mirroring hers.
“I should tell you, I wasn’t drunk that night.”
There wasn’t any need to specify which night he was talking about.
“I know.” She didn’t turn toward him, but she could sense his gaze on her all the same. “With your lips stumbling all over, I would have easily caught the scent of it.”
Bai Huang laughed. It was the easy laugh he was so well-known for, the one that showed he was above insult, without a care in the
“It’s not too uncommon,” she replied. “Though if all one wants is some music and a few pretty faces, they could go to the less reputable houses in the upper lane or hire song girls who aren’t registered. It would be less expensive.”
The aristocracy generally looked down upon the merchant class as being greedy and common, but to the pleasure house madams money was money.
“The Market Commissioner was trying to make a good impression,” Bai Huang reasoned. “He had an association with Huilan, so he invited her to attend, but she met someone or saw something that frightened her there.”
“Nothing unusual happened while I was there. I can ask Mingyu if she remembers anything once she returns from the hot springs.”
The words left her lips before she realized that he had drawn her back into the investigation with hardly any effort at all. The scoundrel.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
He stopped and turned. “Why were you afraid that night?”
“I don’t like the water.”
He leaned a touch closer, lowering his voice as if to keep from frightening her. “We’re close to water now.”
They were beside the canal and a slight breeze rippled over the surface. His gaze was intent on her. A strand of hair fell from his topknot to whip about his face as clouds gathered overhead.
She looked to the darkening sky. “It’s going to rain.”
“You haven’t given me an answer,” he said gently.
She sighed. “I already told you, I don’t like boats. I’ve never liked them. The motion makes me feel dizzy.”
“Is that all?” he pressed.
A boat had brought her to Changan after she was taken away from her family.
“It really is going to rain,” she said instead.
Brushing past him, she moved back toward the street. His footsteps sounded behind her and she quickened her step, using the coming rain as an excuse to escape. What did it matter to Lord Bai whether she liked boats or his bad poetry? Why did she matter to him at all?
She didn’t matter, she reminded herself. He just needed her help to solve the mystery of Huilan’s murder.
A drop of water fell against her hand. And then another against the bridge of her nose. Within moments, a few drops had become a thousand. She hadn’t brought a parasol since she’d assumed she would only be making a small trip to the market, not wandering outside the quarter.
Yue-ying searched about for shelter as rainfall filled her vision, making it hard to see. Suddenly Bai Huang was beside her, tucking her against his shoulder.
“Come on!” he shouted. He had to shout because water was roaring from the heavens now.
He draped an arm overhead to try to cover her. The act was more chivalrous than practical. By the time they found a small park and ran beneath a wooden pavilion, her hair was drenched. He had managed to shield her robe from getting soaked through.
She swiped a hand over her face to clear the water from her eyes. He did the same and then they stared out at the falling curtain of water. Next they looked to the single bench, big enough for two. Yue-ying decided she’d rather remain standing. It was summer and it was Changan. The rain could be gone within moments and she didn’t care to invite intimacy in the meantime.
She leaned her elbows onto the wooden rail that surrounded the pavilion and looked out into the park. All she could see was a smudge of green mixed in with gray. A heartbeat later, Bai Huang perched himself beside her, his posture mirroring hers.
“I should tell you, I wasn’t drunk that night.”
There wasn’t any need to specify which night he was talking about.
“I know.” She didn’t turn toward him, but she could sense his gaze on her all the same. “With your lips stumbling all over, I would have easily caught the scent of it.”
Bai Huang laughed. It was the easy laugh he was so well-known for, the one that showed he was above insult, without a care in the
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