The Jade Temptress. Jeannie Lin

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      The driver snorted loudly.

      “He’s luring you in,” Wu Kaifeng stated.

      Funny that the constable would assume she was naive. Mingyu had grown up in this quarter. It was her domain and she wasn’t sheltered from the realities of the crowded capital. She knew what her life would have been if Madame Sun hadn’t purchased her and provided for her. There was the street or the brothel.

      Maintaining her pleasant expression, Mingyu opened the drawstring on her silk bag and fished out a few coins to press into the boy’s hand. “Be careful, little one. Go home now.”

      The little rat at least affected a slight limp as he ran off into the alley.

      “He’s on the next street over now, begging coins out of another soft-heart.” Wu wasn’t smug or snide or superior as he said it. He was just as he was—hard and without emotion.

      “No one has ever accused me of being soft-hearted, Constable.” She faced him to make sure she had his full attention. “I know that boy was watching me the other day. I also know he wasn’t the only one watching.”

      Wu Kaifeng started at her insinuation, but recovered quickly. His expression became once again impenetrable.

      Indeed, she had also seen the constable at the roadside stand, staring at her with something akin to interest. No, that wasn’t possible. More like a bird of prey sighting a mouse. Her pulse had quickened at the single glimpse.

      “Of course, the constable must believe that he’s entitled to stare for as long as he pleases,” Mingyu taunted. “Everyone else seems to think so, as if I were a painting on the wall.”

      “It’s difficult to look at you,” he admitted with a bluntness that stole her breath.

      “Meaning?” she asked.

      His gaze remained focused on her face, but an odd light flickered in his eyes. Reflexively, her hand flew to her throat before she caught herself. It was a bad habit, a show of weakness.

      Curling her fingers tight, Mingyu let the hand drop to her side. “If there’s nothing else.”

      She didn’t realize until she spoke that her throat had gone dry. She was almost to the carriage when Wu stopped her.

      “There is—”

      She turned around.

      “—something else,” he finished, his speech off rhythm by just enough to make her uneasy.

      He was the one who was difficult to look at. His face lacked any refinement. Wu Kaifeng wasn’t ugly—he was more like a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. There was no harmony to him, no sense of balance. Wu was long in the face, broad in the nose. The eyes were black and hard and unwavering. A sharp jawline framed his hard mouth, a mouth that she had never seen smile. Yet when all of those features were put together, they created a picture that was inexplicably striking.

      “Someone wishes to have me dismissed,” he began.

      “What could that possibly have to do with me?”

      “You do not like me.”

      She didn’t disagree.

      “Most of the people I deal with are people from the streets—beggars, thieves, the poor stealing from the poor,” Wu continued. “Those who are caught doing wrong do not dare to bear a grudge, but you—”

      “I was found innocent,” she interrupted.

      “Your actions were not condemned,” he corrected. “It occurs to me that many of your patrons are men of rank and influence.”

      Mingyu laughed in disbelief. “You think I’m out to destroy you by complaining to my lovers?”

      The corners of his mouth tightened at her mention of lovers and Mingyu felt a small triumph at being able to pierce his armored shell.

      “You needn’t worry, Constable,” she assured, her voice as soft as the breeze. “You must imagine after all that has occurred between us that I stay up late at night, bearing a grudge and plotting your downfall.”

      She continued toward the carriage, feeling his gaze on her the entire way. Once she was seated, Mingyu was able to look down upon him from higher ground to deliver her final message. “But why would I waste any time thinking of you at all?”

      CHAPTER THREE

      MINGYU HELD HER sleeve back with one hand as she poured the hot water into the bowl. Keeping her eyes lowered, she washed and warmed each of the porcelain cups before setting them back onto the tray. A group of four scholars watched her as she performed the tea ritual in so many little perfect steps, all in sequence.

      She liked the ritual. For once, her parlor was quiet. There were no voices competing for attention; reciting the classics or a newly composed verse of poetry as they tried to emerge as the cleverest. For once, she didn’t have to speak, either. She didn’t have to smile or laugh or exchange furtive glances.

      All she had to do was follow the ritual, concentrate on the breaking of the tea brick into the pot, the washing of the cups, the pouring of the tea. The ceremony was sacred to the scholar-gentlemen who frequented the Lotus Palace. They had all read the Classic of Tea and aspired to cultivate the thoughtfulness and meditative state that only tea could bring about. Wine was for the freeing of the spirit. Tea was for focusing it.

      She placed a cup within reach of each of the visitors. There was a department head from the Ministry of Defense as well as a ranking captain of the city garrison. Though a soldier, he was indistinguishable here from any other gentleman. The remaining two were hopefuls seeking placement after passing the civil exams.

      The men took their cups in both hands and drank in reverent silence. Mingyu folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze lowered. She didn’t drink with them. She was an implement in this ritual, like the clay teapot or the cups.

      She almost dreaded the moment the most senior member of the party would finish his cup and break the silence. It was easy being a silent fixture. Almost freeing.

      “Ah, so serious!”

      All heads turned at once toward the entrance. A figure had emerged through the curtain, handsome and youthful in appearance with his characteristic grin on his face.

      “Am I too late to join?” Bai Huang asked.

      “My lord.” Mingyu was less than warm in her greeting.

      “Jinshi.” The senior patrons acknowledged him with a bow and the two hopefuls looked on in awe.

      Even if they didn’t recognize Bai’s name, they recognized the significance of his robe. Only scholars who had passed the highest level of the palace exams were allowed the honor of wearing those robes.

      Mingyu, for her part, was not impressed. She rose as the nobleman started to engage the officials in conversation. “Lord Bai,” she began, smoothly linking her arm around his. “Madame Sun is expecting you.”

      Bai

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