The Last Concubine Read online

  Ning’s face became more guarded, even hostile. “And if she is?”

  “I only wondered why you did not order the kitchen maid to go to the henhouse.”

  Ning was caught without an answer. “I am new here and….” His voice faded away.

  “You need not fear any indiscretion. I haven’t written all my observations in my reports,” Wen said.

  “Then why challenge me in the street?” Ning looked about, as if realizing they were not exactly in the street.

  “I have noticed your habit of exercise. I admire that.” Wen bowed.

  “As a eunuch—” Ning began.

  “I know,” Wen said with an understanding smile. “I fear I am interrupting, but you are in no danger of encroaching plumpness if you forego a quarter of an hour to speak with me.”

  “What do you want of me?” Ning’s voice was sharp.

  “I want nothing. I do not even want the price of the chicken you, er, borrowed.” Wen seemed a bit embarrassed. “I came to announce that I am—ahem—partial to the third sex,” he said, as if only then realizing how awkward an approach this was.

  Ning’s wrath died down, and he looked perplexed. “A eunuch is not adept at the usual sexual practices.”

  “If you will forgive me for being rudely direct, it depends on how one was cut,” Wen said. “I have had many a pleasurable afternoon in bed with a eunuch.”

  “Pleasurable for you, no doubt,” Ning said irritably.

  “It would not please me if I could not please my partner as well,” Wen said. “I had wondered if you had ever considered….” He looked questioningly at Ning. “Of course, we should have to get to know each other a bit better first. Perhaps I could help educate you with some of our more customary chicken acquisition methods.”

  “I see! Blackmail?” Ning exclaimed wrathfully.

  “Calm yourself. I am merely teasing you. I shall never let you live that down, no matter what your reason was for that clandestine poultry rendezvous. I go off duty at four in the afternoon, if you would care to have tea with me.”

  “I shall consider it,” Ning said with great dignity but a gleam lighting his eyes. Then he abandoned dignity for practicality. “Where do you go to drink tea?”

  “I am permitted outside these gates, but as you are not, I suggest we have our tea in your kitchen.”

  “But Jia—”

  “Jia is an old friend of mine. She may laugh at us, but she will not begrudge us the tea or the space,” Wen said.

  “She will most definitely laugh,” Ning said gloomily.

  JIANG had spent the past two weeks without success trying to corner Hüi Wei for some private conversation. He had heard the clop of hooves before dawn on the day after Hüi had gone to see Lan’xiu and looked out his window to see something he had never witnessed before: Hüi Wei fleeing the city as if from a rout. He wondered if the princess had anything wrong with her, or worse, if Hüi had failed in his manly duty. Or even whether he had forced the princess to reveal some plot so dastardly it shocked him into flight. For some time Jiang had wondered whether Princess Lan’xiu’s lifeless body lay within her house, not that he cared about her death if she had threatened his friend. Within the day, however, he ascertained that she still lived, which confused him even more.

  He alone was privy to details of Hüi’s relationships with his many women—although the stories were few because his friend was a gentleman—but usually there was some small anecdote to be shared. Never had Hüi avoided him so comprehensively. Therefore, he had taken to watching Hüi, trying to decipher what was in the general’s mind. His initial thought that Hüi might be planning a new campaign or had received a secret missive from the emperor was dismissed. For too long Hüi had relied on Jiang for strategy, be it political or military, and he had done nothing to warrant changing that.

  Then it occurred to him that perhaps Hüi was spending time elsewhere in the household, although the idea puzzled him. Hüi had always been disciplined about his bodily pleasures; he never drank to excess, nor ate too many sweets. And Jiang had never observed that Hüi was especially lustful; he seemed motivated more by affection and the need for heirs in his visits to the household, except for that fiery infatuation with Ci’an, which lasted only long enough to produce one sickly daughter. With her alone the flame of desire had burned hot for a short time, but the embers were long since cold.

  Mere beauty could not hold Hüi for long. Ci’an was stunning, but her underhanded scheming disgusted him. Mei Ju had an affectionate nature, but although warm and welcoming, she was not interesting enough to hold his attention for long. After the disaster of Ci’an, Hüi had shrewdly taken concubines for political reasons alone. Jiang would not have been surprised to learn, if Hüi had had the bad manners to confide in him, that he visited their houses only for reasons of etiquette and ceremony. Hüi would not want to fall prey to the sexual power of any woman again.

  Hating himself for doing so, Jiang had begun to follow Hüi. He had to know what was going on with his friend. Of course, with a soldier as alert and well trained as Hüi, it was not easy to maintain surveillance on him without being obvious, so there were times when Hüi Wei managed to evade him. It took a full week before any light dawned to elucidate the problem, and that came when Jiang trailed Hüi to the jeweler’s shop in the city that lay within the fortress.

  When he noticed Hüi disappear within the doors, Jiang racked his brain to think of a reason why Hüi might be patronizing the goldsmith. When it finally occurred to him, he started to shake with laughter.

  Not the most gallant of men, Hüi had not been in the habit of giving jewelry to his wives. He tended toward more domestic sorts of gifts, like tea services or furniture. Therefore, something must have happened to change his usual habit of thought. Jiang took the chance of being observed and edged closer to the door, trying to overhear what was being said.

  Apparently, five gifts had already been selected, but Hüi was indecisively wavering between the comparative merits of emeralds or rubies. Jiang retreated, wondering if he should return to the palace immediately or keep watching his friend.

  Jiang began to have a glimmering of which way the wind was blowing when he next followed Hüi Wei to the silk shops, where he chose several items of women’s clothing.

  He calculated that the only new variable that had entered the equation was the Princess Lan’xiu. Then he shook his head in confusion once more as he watched Hüi go to the ironmongers that made weapons. Now nothing about this shopping trip made sense to him.

  AS ALWAYS, Lan’xiu braced herself before she went to sit with the other wives. She knew they watched as avidly as she when the servant who bore the torch came to the square and that they knew well that her lantern had not been lit again. The competitive nature of the household guaranteed that some would slyly jibe at her with her lack of fortune in order to point out their own good fortune. She dared not let slip that Hüi had come to her without the formality of the usual public announcement.

  If they had but known it, Lan was certain jealousy would be immediate, and in Ci’an’s case, potentially violent. If the other wives were privy to all he had said to her, it would have been even worse.

  The smooth running of this household was based upon a certain uneasy openness, and now the secret she must keep from them wasn’t only about who she was, but also that Hüi had come to see her on the sly. If he was not ready to accept her as she was, it made her sad, but she understood. She could not turn her face away from him, because she knew how it felt to feel lost and unsure. How ironic would it be to have miraculously found Hüi ready to embrace her despite her deficiencies, only to then be cast out by his outraged wives.

  She was used to keeping her own secret, but now that she was responsible for keeping Hüi’s as well, it made her timid in their gatherings. Lan’xiu had gained the reputation of being a shy, quiet girl, even though she would have loved to chatter and giggle with the rest of them, discussing clothing, cosmetics, and possibly eve
n foolish little secrets about how to please their husband.

  Only Ning could steel her to face her sister wives, although she often told him she went only to get away from his constant ragging.

  Lan’xiu had taken to wearing her plainest robes when she went to consort with the others, hoping to downplay her looks so as not to excite their envy or attention. Her excuse was that she loved playing with the children. Being a modest girl, she could not know that nothing could make her look ugly; in fact, the plain hanfu of amber silk she wore today only emphasized the burnished satin of her skin.

  As usual, Mei Ju called out to her in welcome when Lan’xiu entered her home. “Come here, Lan’xiu, sit by me and tell me what you think of the new dress I had made.”

  Lan’xiu gave one of her rare but lovely smiles. “You look very smart, First Wife. That rose is a pretty color for you.” It was, but the cheongsam was so over-embellished and ornamented that it made Mei Ju look rather unfortunately wide.

  “Look at what my husband gave to me,” Mei Ju said, holding out her chubby wrist.

  “It is very beautiful,” Lan’xiu said, dutifully admiring the bracelet with a little sigh. She was wearing her only pair of earrings, as usual, and her plain jade bracelet. She had put away the ring that belonged to her mother, not caring to hear Ci’an’s comments on it.

  The new bracelet was made of curved pieces of jade in varying shades of green, rose, and white linked together with silver good luck charms between them. Mei Ju looked at the bracelet and stroked a finger over one of the pieces of jade. “Hüi has given me many things, but I value this bracelet above all others. See, there is a charm here for each of the children I have borne him.”

  Her words stabbed Lan’xiu in the heart like a knife, for she would never bear her lord any children, and her barrenness would be held against her—and him. Now it was her turn to be disappointed that Hüi had not come to her again, but a lady did not visit her own disappointments upon another, especially the woman who had been so kind to her.

  “Your husband has great love for you, Mei Ju, that is clear. It is a beautiful bracelet and a beautiful sentiment.”

  Mei Ju touched Lan’xiu’s sleeve. “Thank you, my dear, I know—” But her words, whatever they were, were destined to remain unspoken when the third, fourth, and sixth wives came in together.

  Lan’xiu rose and bowed, remaining standing as befitted her lowest rank, while Mei Ju stayed seated to receive the other ladies, all of whom kissed her hand and bowed. Lan’xiu was pushed aside as Fifth Wife Bai bounced into the room with her usual merry smile.

  “Oh, am I late? I am late, aren’t I?” She gave a high-pitched laugh. “I am always late!”

  “But you always bring the sunshine with you, my dear,” Mei Ju said, with an answering smile.

  The words gave Lan’xiu a pang; Mei Ju was always kind to her, but she was not amusing like Bai, or good-natured like Alute, or contented like Fen and Huan. She was conscious that guarding her secret had consumed her to the point that she offered the other wives little in return for their friendship, however shallow it might be. So anxious not to offend, she had become little more than wallpaper, attractive but not precisely scintillating.

  Isolation had bound the wives of the household together into a unit, however uneasy, and she was the odd one out, just as much as Ci’an was, despite their efforts to include her. As Lan’xiu was resolving to try to exert herself a bit more to make herself agreeable, a silence fell over the chattering women. She looked up from her reverie as they all turned to face the doorway.

  It was Second Wife Ci’an, whose preferred manner of arrival seemed to be coming late and sneaking in to eavesdrop.

  Her hands were hidden in her sleeves when she entered and her lips curled sarcastically. “Greetings, sister wives. It is so good to see you all again.”

  “Second Wife Ci’an,” Mei Ju said, welcoming her formally. “I trust I see you well. I am anxious for you, the physician is so often at your house.”

  “What of it?” Ci’an snapped.

  “I was merely expressing the wish that you were enjoying a period of good health,” Mei Ju said gently.

  Lan’xiu wondered how she could be so gracious with this arrogant woman.

  “Oh, you needn’t start planning my funeral yet,” Ci’an smirked. “I intend to outlive you yet, First Wife.”

  Where they sat together on the divan, Fen and Huan looked away pointedly. Mei Ju’s wise face remained inscrutable, but Alute looked distressed at the insult.

  Bai came to the rescue, cheerfully saying, “Ci’an, you are too beautiful and evil to die soon. You must have made a pact with the demons to look so lovely when you suffer from strange maladies so often.”

  Lan’xiu was cautiously amused to see that Bai’s forthright statement stymied Ci’an and even caused her to laugh.

  Second Wife Ci’an moved into the room. On this occasion she was dressed in a robe of the finest mulberry silk with a broad embroidered panel that crossed her bosom and edged the length of the dress to the hem. The sleeves were similarly decorated, as was the little stand-up collar. Real pearls had been used for buttons, and a tall headdress of rich golden ornaments of flowers and birds crowned her hair, which was dressed high, towering at least eight inches over her head. It seemed almost a pity that she had chosen that day to outshine Lan’xiu, dressed in her plainest robe.

  “If I had to choose one of you to slay upon this day, I vow you would be the last to go, Bai. You amuse me. You insult me with one tongue and call me beautiful with the other,” said Ci’an.

  “I was born with Gemini rising in my stars.” Bai held out both hands at her sides and swayed first to her right and then to her left. “The twin natures possess my soul and balance each other. I am sometimes good and sometimes very, very bad.” She gave a giggle that all the other wives understood to indicate that it was with their husband she chose to be very bad. “Our Lord Hüi Wei has said he does not know whether to beat me or….” She gave a wicked smile and then turned to Lan’xiu. “Come sit by me, Princess Lan’xiu.”

  “Yes, do go sit with crazy Bai, Princess of Nothing,” Ci’an concurred. “Of course, she may simply be asking to you to sit with her because her lovely cheongsam outshines your rather plain and drab one.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Lan’xiu,” Bai said, chuckling. “Last time I wore this dress, Ci’an informed me it was an ugly rag.”

  Lan’xiu went to the divan where Bai sat, settling next her. “I think it is a very pretty dress.”

  “Clearly, you are no judge of fashion, judging by what you are wearing. Bai, I misspoke when I told you that. I think Lan’xiu’s dress makes yours look like the height of fashion.” Ci’an smirked, her eyes fixed upon Lan’xiu’s earlobes. “You must love those turquoise earrings. You wear them so often.”

  “I do like them.” Lan’xiu put her hand up to touch one of the turquoise drops. She had almost made the mistake of admitting they were the only pair she owned. “They belonged to my mother.”

  “They’re simple. And therefore appropriate for you.” Ci’an waited for Lan’xiu to realize the insult, but when she made no reply, she continued. “Rather boring with that dress, perhaps, but when one hasn’t much to boast of except a spurious title….” She shrugged, peering superciliously at Lan’xiu. “If you play your cards right, perhaps one day someone might give you a nice little lacquer comb out of pity.”

  “It wasn’t pity that got Lady Mei Ju her new bracelet!” Bai said with a laugh. “Nor her lovely dress.”

  “Ah, yes, the fecundity bracelet. Not as elegant as one might have wished for. Quite the popular sentimental purchase amongst the merchant classes, or so I hear.” Ci’an gave an exaggerated yawn and sat down, drawing her chair uncomfortably close to Lan’xiu. “Certainly fitting for one who has borne a litter of little bastards.”

  Mei Ju grew angry and lashed out at Ci’an. “This bracelet means much to me and to my husband, Second Concubine. It celebrates the many
healthy children we have created between us. More than you managed to produce.”

  Ci’an reddened at this reminder of her sonless state. Perhaps she remembered the rebuke Mei Ju had given at the previous party and didn’t want to run the risk of another, or perhaps she wasn’t finished with the other wives, but she bit her lip silently before turning again to Lan’xiu, leaning forward to elbow her in the ribs. “You simple innocents have no idea how to keep a man interested. If you liked, I could share some secrets of how to fan the flames with Hüi. The first night after he left me, I couldn’t sit down the day after. My sheets were red with blood.” She looked meaningfully at Lan’xiu and winked as she said it.

  Ci’an’s laugh made Lan’xiu want to take a bath.

  “I’ve noticed it remains quite dark on your side of the square. Now that Hüi has made the ritual visit out of politeness, he obviously plans to have no more to do with you. I’m sure you could settle for a nice little flirtation to fill your time, like Fen and Huan have.” Ci’an waved a hand at the chair where the two girls sat together as usual. “You can only plead innocence for so long, or perhaps you’re too stupid to see which way the sun sets? Choose a nice young man from the guard. Some of the soldiers set to watch us are quite virile and not so focused on their responsibilities that they can’t put those assault skills to use closer to home. Isn’t that so, Liang?”

  One of the pair of soldiers who accompanied Ci’an everywhere flushed red but continued to stare into space without comment.

  “Or perhaps you prefer the company of eunuchs? I see you have a tame one of your very own.”

  “Most eunuchs are very good company,” Lan’xiu said. She could not defend Ning by boasting of his prowess with a sword, but she was tiring of Ci’an’s unending stream of malice. “Perhaps you might find it profitable to make the acquaintance of one or two before you insult them.”