Jeannie Lin - The Jade Temptress

“Payment was sent to Madame Sun yesterday,” she continued. “The instructions in his letter were very clear when I was to arrive. I was to be his companion exclusively for the week.”

Wu paused and his fingers tightened momentarily over the brush before continuing. “And you had gone to that same house in the past to see him?”

“He owns the place. General Deng would hold gatherings and private meetings there.”

“Were you invited to these gatherings, as well?”

“One needs entertainment at such affairs.”

She tried to remain as calm as possible, but her throat was painfully dry. These were ordinary questions really, one any lawman might ask. She had expected this when she’d put herself at Wu Kaifeng’s mercy. What she hadn’t expected was how his demeanor had changed toward her. The difference was subtle, but it was there. She’d sensed it when Wu had approached her the other day. The events of the past had created a connection between them that remained unresolved. It was fate. Yuán fèn.

Wu kept his head bent as he transcribed her words onto the paper. His profile was rugged and his expression completely focused. His characters emerged in tight, efficient columns with little space in between them.

The scholar-gentlemen of the North Hamlet worshipped the art of writing. A practitioner’s technique and posture were supposed to reveal his character, how patient and cultured he was. Wu Kaifeng held the writing brush like a barbarian, without any technique or refinement. It was merely a tool in his hands, the same way a shovel or a pick served a peasant laborer.

“Isn’t that task usually performed by a clerk?” She indicated the scroll with a nod of her head.

“My writing should be passable.”

“Where did you study?”

“My father taught me.” He paused for an uncomfortable space of time. “My foster father,” he amended.

“Was he a constable, as well?”

“A physician.”

Mingyu knew she was stalling. It made her feel better to have him talking. Wu seemed quite civil in conversation. It was when he remained deathly quiet that he seemed to be judging her.

“You didn’t keep such meticulous records the first time we conversed,” she ventured.

“You weren’t saying very much.”

His hand continued inking the report onto the paper while they spoke.

“You were being unpleasant,” she reminded him.

“It was my duty.”

“To be unpleasant?”

Mingyu thought she caught the corners of his mouth tightening and her pulse jumped. It was dangerous for her to taunt him. Like throwing stones at a tiger in a bamboo cage.

But something had happened the last time they were here. Something that she had never told anyone because she couldn’t understand it herself. It had weighed heavily on her mind before seeking Wu out that morning.

“I have many other tasks to see to. If we could continue,” he said stiffly. She wasn’t the only one affected by their exchange. “When was the last time Deng summoned you?”

“Over a year ago. General Deng hasn’t returned to the city since before Emperor Xuānzong took the throne.”

“Not until now.”

“Not until now,” she echoed.

He met her eyes directly. “I recall you were shameless about using Deng’s name for your own purposes while he was away.”

If Wu was waiting for her to flinch, then he would be disappointed. “Sometimes exploiting a man’s power is the only influence a woman can wield.”

His gaze narrowed on her before moving on to more additional questions.

“What happened when you arrived at the house?”

“There was no one at the gate. I went inside and saw...saw exactly what you saw.” She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as a wave of nausea churned her stomach. “There was blood everywhere.”

“Did you approach the body or get close to him in any way?”

She shook her head. “I ran out into the street and found someone to fetch you.”

“Deng was no longer alive when you came into the room?”

“No.”

“And there was no one else in the house. You didn’t see or hear anyone?”

She recalled this approach from the last interrogation. Wu Kaifeng would ask every question two or three different ways, looking for inconsistencies in her answers.

“There was no one,” she said evenly.

He was writing again, the report flowing neatly from the tip of his brush. From a quick glance, he was recording her words exactly as she spoke them without embellishment or interpretation. When he looked up again, his gaze pierced her.

“Did you kill the general?”

Mingyu stared at him, startled by his bluntness. “Do you think I could have cut a man’s head off?”

“No.”

She started to relax, but it was too soon.

“Not personally,” Wu amended. “But you could have had it done. You have a way of getting others to do your bidding, Lady Mingyu. Of wielding influence, as you called it.”

“Then why would I want to be rid of General Deng? I have everything to lose and nothing to gain from his death.”

“Sometimes there is no reason.”

Some unnamable emotion flickered in his eyes, but she was unable to catch it. Mingyu was skilled at reading a man’s desires. Not only when it came to lust or sensual pleasure, but other desires, as well. The desire for notoriety, for respect, for achievement. The pleasure quarter was there to feed into all of them. Maybe she couldn’t read Wu Kaifeng because he had no desires. He was as dark and fathomless inside as on the outside.

“I am telling the truth,” she insisted as calmly as she could. “Remember that I was the one who came to you.”

“As you did last time. You are a strategist, Lady Mingyu. You like to control the board.”

There was no denying that. Better to know the positions on the battlefield, even if it put her at the mercy of someone as heartless as Wu Kaifeng. Fighting blind was the worst disadvantage of all.

“Why come to me?” he demanded. “Why not one of your many protectors? You despise me, Lady Mingyu.”

She was taken aback. “I don’t despise you.”

It was a horrible mistake going to Wu. He was suspicious of everything and everyone. She should have known he would tear her apart, just like this, but she’d been scared and alone.

“If you were so frightened, why did you wait for me in that house?” he challenged. “Weren’t you afraid the murderer could have still been nearby?”

“You were the only person I knew I could trust.”

Mingyu regretted the confession as soon as she’d made it. He reared up and leaned onto the writing table to loom over her.

“What game are you playing?” His quiet tone held a warning.

Instinctively, Mingyu shrank back. “There is no game.”

“I’m the last man you should trust. You and I both know why.”

She had no choice but to lay out all the pieces between them, which meant uncovering the past. The first time Wu had interrogated her, he’d taken out six bamboo sticks and laced them between her fingers. He’d held her hand still in his own as he completed the task, a gesture that was grotesquely intimate.

Each time she’d refused to answer, he would tighten the string around the sticks, crushing her knuckles against the bamboo. Mingyu had tried to bite her tongue, to refuse to beg, but it had been useless.

The entire process had been conducted with cold precision. Wu Kaifeng watched her suffer without a hint of emotion on his face, but then the pain stopped without explanation. The questioning came to an abrupt halt, as well.

“Why did you spare me that night?” she asked him now.

For the first time, Wu was the one to look away. “You were not going to reveal anything, even under torture.”