The Jade Temptress. Jeannie Lin

thoughtful. Wu said nothing of it as he drew aside the curtain for her.

      Mingyu climbed inside the compartment and the curtain fell over the front, shielding her away from the world. The litter then rose, hefted onto the shoulders of the bearers outside, and Mingyu let her head sink onto her hands.

      Deng Zhi was dead.

      She didn’t know what to feel. The general had been her patron for so long that it was impossible not to feel an emptiness in her chest. The general had been invincible in her eyes. Untouchable even by the Emperor.

      Deng had barely spoken a word to her the first time she’d come to his bed. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she was young. Mingyu had been afraid there would be pain, that the general would be rough. All things considered, he hadn’t been careless with her, but Deng had held his hand over her throat the entire time, with her pulse beating frantically beneath his hand.

      Deng had wanted no doubt in her mind that he owned her. Whenever he returned to the city, she still felt the weight of that hand, ready to bestow life or take it crushingly away.

      And now she was free of him, but what did that freedom truly mean? Mingyu pulled aside the curtain to peer outside. Wu Kaifeng walked alongside the litter, his long stride keeping pace easily with the carriers.

      Wu’s focus was on the road ahead, but he must have possessed the instincts of a wolf. He turned and caught her watching him. His expression was grim.

      “We will arrive shortly, Lady Mingyu.”

      The litter turned down a side street and stopped at the western entrance of a large gated compound with walls built of rammed earth hardened into stone. Wu Kaifeng bent to help her from the litter, offering a hand which she pointedly avoided. Without a word, Wu withdrew it, letting his arm fall to his side.

      “I had hoped to never come back here,” she said, staring at the guardsmen stationed at either side of the entrance.

      “Death seems to follow you.”

      A shudder ran down her spine. “What an awful thing to say.”

      “I apologize, then.”

      Along with his wolf’s instincts, he had the manners of some wild creature. Wu Kaifeng unnerved her. He always had, from the first moment she’d seen him. The constable looked at everyone around him as if he would expose all of their secrets, but she had to trust him now.

      Mingyu didn’t know who had killed General Deng or why, but she knew that this was Wu’s domain and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her until he uncovered the truth.

      She entered the compound under his charge, with Wu walking slightly behind. At every step, she was aware of his considerable height towering over her. There was a quiet fierceness in the way he held himself, as if Wu Kaifeng feared nothing in this world or beyond it. His intimidating presence was an odd comfort at the moment. Whoever had conspired against General Deng, whoever might also mean her harm, couldn’t reach her while Wu stood watch.

      The yamen guards raised their spears and stepped aside as they passed. She could feel their gazes raking over her while she kept her head held high. Everyone who was brought here was assumed to be a criminal. Even those who had been wronged were considered tainted.

      It had been a year since Wu had led her through this very entrance. She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking and tension gathered in her shoulders as he approached the dark corridor where the accused were locked in prison cells to await trial.

      She remembered that forsaken hallway from her one night in captivity. There were no windows and the floors were hard and unforgiving, made of packed dirt. The cells were barely larger than a closet. She had been cold and hungry and alone in the dark except for Wu Kaifeng who remained to await her confession.

      The constable directed her past the corridor to another door that she recognized. The interrogation room.

      Mingyu stopped cold. Her feet refused to move farther while her heart pounded as if it would punch through her chest. It was a mistake to go to him. She had been locked inside that room with Wu once before. What made her think he was any more forgiving now?

      Wu paused with his hand against the wooden frame. His face was turned away, but tension gathered in his shoulders before he took a step back. Without a word, he continued on.

      A moment later, she found herself in a more welcoming room lined with shelves and cabinets. A desk stood near the window and Wu sat her down on a stool while he gathered a writing box and scroll.

      “Am I under arrest?” she asked.

      Instead of answering, Wu positioned himself behind the desk facing her. Anyone else would have given her some indication of what was to come, either reassure or threaten her, but Wu Kaifeng did neither. He took his time grinding the ink stick down and mixing it with water before unrolling the scroll.

      “When did you go to see General Deng?” he began.

      “This morning. I left the Lotus immediately after the gong for the Snake Hour sounded.”

      “He was expecting you?”

      “Yes.”

      After setting a stone weight at each corner of the paper, Wu lifted the brush and began recording her answers.

      “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