The Lotus Palace. Jeannie LinЧитать онлайн книгу.
gambling den, but he had no desire to hold up appearances tonight. He glanced once again at the candle. There was only a stub left.
Sometimes he lost quickly and would simply get up and leave. Those were the rules. But sometimes he won, and those were the hardest nights of all.
“Do you play, Constable?”
Though Wu stood at the table, he had yet to take out any money. He looked over the painted characters on the table, each representing a wager, and then over to the three dice inside the clay bowl. The dealer shrank back as Wu’s gaze raked over him.
“No,” he replied after an uncomfortably long delay.
It was rare to meet someone with such a disconnected sense of social politeness. Though his words and gestures were not incorrect, they always came a touch too late or off-rhythm, as if he had to think of things others took as natural.
“It’s quite easy,” Huang said. “You put your coins down on the table and they take them away.”
“All bets in!”
The dealer set the bowl down and lifted the tumbler to a general outcry. The total was high this time and Huang’s wager disappeared. Another round started promptly after.
“I could never see the appeal of gambling,” Wu said. “Too much uncertainty.”
The problem was Huang liked the unpredictability. He liked the guessing and wagering and not knowing. No, it was incorrect to say he liked any of it. That implied there was some enjoyment or pleasure involved. He supposed there had been, at one time. Now he knew that he didn’t just like the risk, he needed it. It was never about the money.
Tonight, the battle had been especially hard. With a new Emperor on the throne and Huilan’s recent death, there was too much cluttering his mind. A night of diversion at the tables was very tempting. Unfortunately, Huang knew it was impossible to play only a few rounds to take his mind off things. He always followed a strict, unbending regimen he’d set for himself.
Wu looked around the dimly lit room. “So this is where you go on nights you don’t spend drinking.”
Obviously, the constable had come here to investigate him and couldn’t be bothered with subtlety.
Huang affected a grin. “I’ll drink tonight as well.”
Wu was not amused. “You play the third night of every week.”
His smile faltered a little. “A good night for it.”
“And always from the eleventh hour to the twelfth,” Wu continued. “Always this table. Exactly a thousand copper coins.”
The dealer cast a glance toward Wu before he began hawking out the next round.
Huang shrugged, though the room seemed to have gotten hotter. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck. “Gamblers and their superstitions, you know.”
Wu nodded, but there was very little in the way of camaraderie in it. “It must be working tonight. You look to have nearly three times that in front of you.”
“More wagers? Bet now!” the dealer crowed.
The candle had melted down to a pool of wax.
Huang pushed the entire stack of coins over the square marked “Triple”.
Wu’s eyes narrowed on him. “I may not be knowledgeable about this game, but I would assume that is a highly unlikely outcome.”
At least he’d managed to surprise the demon. “If the dice are with me, I’ll be a wealthy man,” Huang replied with a grin.
“You are already wealthy, Lord Bai.”
They listened to the rattle of the dice. As the tumbler was set on the table, Huang felt that familiar rush, the boiling of his blood as he waited to see the result. Exquisite anticipation. Nothing else in the world felt as good as this. Not good wine, good food. Not even a beautiful woman. At moments like this, he knew he would never be free of this urge.
The dealer lifted the top off the bowl and Huang’s heart almost stopped. Two fives and a three. He didn’t want to think what he would have done if that last die had landed another five instead of the three.
There was nothing left but the wick on the candle. He turned as the dealer raked back all of his winnings of the past hour, leaving Constable Wu at the table to form whatever conclusions he chose.
* * *
YUE-YING SPENT THE next few days preparing Mingyu for an upcoming journey. General Deng was Mingyu’s most prestigious patron. He had held a position in the capital before being transferred to Guangdong province where he currently served as military governor. Whenever he returned to Changan, Mingyu pushed all other engagements aside to see to him.
“The general will be sending an escort for me,” Mingyu had told her. “We will be traveling to the nearby hot springs. There is no need for you to accompany me.”
Yue-ying ignored the abrupt dismissal and started packing a trunk with all the necessary clothing and personal items Mingyu would need. She made sure to include all the jewels and trinkets the military governor had gifted to Mingyu.
This wasn’t the first time Mingyu had left her for such an assignation. It was publicly known that she and General Deng were lovers. Yue-ying could understand why Mingyu desired privacy during their time together. Perhaps Mingyu held deeper feelings for the governor than she admitted.
Once Mingyu was gone, Yue-ying was left with more idle time than she was accustomed to and no one to pass it with. Over the years, she had become friendly with the other courtesans in the pleasure house, but none of them were close. Mingyu was the only courtesan who had a personal attendant, which put Yue-ying in a unique position at the Lotus Palace. It also kept her apart from the others.
To remain busy, she set about sorting the rest of the clothing and accessories, bringing out the lighter garments from storage in preparation for the hottest part of the summer season. A pile was started for items that needed mending or other repairs. When she was arranging Mingyu’s slippers, she found a pair tossed in the bottom of a trunk. The embroidered pattern had been splattered with mud.
With a sigh, she took a damp rag to it. Mingyu was so careless sometimes. Such beautiful and luxurious items held little value to her.
A knock came from the outer chamber, interrupting her task.
“Miss Yue-ying?” a familiar voice called out.
She shot to her feet. Lord Bai stepped into the parlor just as she poked her head out from the dressing room. The slipper was still clutched in her hand.
“That’s not to throw at me, is it?” he asked, his lips quirking.
Bai Huang was a suspect in Huilan’s murder, but Constable Wu didn’t have any strong evidence. Wu had also warned her Bai Huang was hiding something, but he wasn’t a violent man...yet when he’d cornered her in the cellar, he’d certainly appeared menacing.
She had been staring at him for too long while she weighed the arguments. “Lady Mingyu is not here.”
“I know. I came here to see you.”
For a moment, she considered telling him to go away and shouting for help if he refused, but Madame would think she had gone mad. Bai Huang was a frequent and generous customer.
“Were you at the Hundred Songs the night of the festival?” she asked, edging closer to a ceramic vase on an end table.
“I was here. Don’t you remember?”
“Before you came to the Lotus.”
She glared at him, her irritation rising. She supposed it benefited him somehow to adopt the persona of the fool, otherwise why would he do it so often and with so much enthusiasm?
“I wasn’t at the Hundred Songs. I swear on my grave.”
“Why