Free The Lotus Palace by Jeannie Lin Page A

property. When commerce was confused with sex and emotion. To pleasure seekers, the North Hamlet was supposed to be a place of beauty, poetry and music. All of the courtesans worked to perpetuate that illusion, but Yue-ying was no courtesan.
    “The sadness of it is, such deaths are usually at the hands of angry patrons or lovers.” Her mouth twisted cynically. “Some men mistake it for passion.”

CHAPTER SIX
     
    H UANG WALKED Y UE - YING to the front doors of the Lotus Palace, at which time she bowed, called him Lord Bai and disappeared abruptly through the curtains. He was left wondering whether she’d only accompanied him because he was noble-born and wealthy enough that she was obligated to defer to him. He hoped it wasn’t true. He was growing rather fond of her honesty.
    He was so used to lies that his time with Yue-ying seemed like the only real conversation he’d had for months. If only he hadn’t muddied the waters with that failed kiss in the darkness of the Lotus Palace cellar.
    Before returning to his rented quarters, he stopped by the Hundred Songs to present a gift of silver. The house was still in mourning and would remain so for the traditional forty-nine-day period. During that time, the Hundred Songs would have to rely on the generosity of their patrons to keep everyone fed.
    “Lord Bai! How good of you to come.” Madame Lui approached dressed in her white mourning robe. She clasped both of his hands in hers. “We were all so frightened last night.”
    “Frightened? Why was that, Madame?”
    “Sit and have some tea and I’ll tell you.”
    It would be rude to simply come by, leave his gift, then go, so Huang sat down in the main parlor with Madame Lui while the girls brought tea and a small plate of rice flour cakes.
    “What happened last night?” he asked again once the formalities had been settled.
    “We heard footsteps upstairs.” Madame Lui leaned closer and lowered her voice, not to keep any secret, but to impress upon him the seriousness of what she was describing. “In Huilan’s bedchamber.”
    He remained skeptical. “Did you go to see who it was?”
    “It was in the middle of the night. Everyone was asleep except for two of the girls who remained awake for the vigil. They were so scared, they couldn’t move. And then, you won’t believe what happened next.”
    “What happened?” he prompted.
    “One of the candles on the altar split its wick.”
    “That is strange.” Huang injected more wonder into his tone than he truly felt. “How long did the footsteps move about in Huilan’s room?”
    “The girls said the footsteps walked about ten steps and then halted. They ran to wake me up and at that point, I heard them as well, rushing down the hall. Huilan has come back! Her spirit is very strong.”
    Madame Lui’s fears weren’t so far-flung. For seven days after death, Huilan’s spirit was believed to fly free while loved ones kept a vigil night and day over her earthly body. It was believed that sometime during that period, the spirit would return home. A murdered soul tended to linger, clinging to the life that had been ended before its time.
    He preferred to find a rational explanation for what had occurred. “Madame, may I ask permission to go into Huilan’s chamber?”
    “Of course! She won’t be upset—you were a friend.”
    Not good enough of a friend. He should have stayed by her side or taken her somewhere safe.
    After he finished his tea, Madame Lui led him up to the apartments. Though she opened the door for him, she remained outside in the hall, daring to only peek in. Huang was careful to scan the room before stepping inside.
    From the outer parlor, nothing appeared to have changed since the tragic night. The magistrate and the constable had searched the chambers, but he doubted anyone had come into the room since.
    “What did the footsteps sound like?” he asked, peering into the bedchamber. Ghost or no ghost, he felt a shudder run down his spine at