Capturing the Silken Thief (2 page)

She scanned through the pages, her chest growing tighter with each column of neat black characters. Page after page, backwards then forwards, the characters didn’t change. There was no poetry there. No words of wit and genius worth thousands in cash. She could feel the coins slipping through her fingers like desert sand.

This was going to be the death of her. She was already headed to the afterlife. How had this gone so wrong?

She could storm back to the courtyard and demand her money back, but that would only get her ridiculed. Somehow this was the scholar’s doing. Luo Cheng had what she wanted, and she was going to get it even if she had to search heaven above and earth below.

The note told him to meet her at the park on Longevity Street. It had to have been from the intriguing Rose. He could almost smell her perfume on the folded scrap of paper that had been tucked beneath his door.

The street was crowded with the midday traffic. It was the busiest lane in the ward, leading from the bustling East Market to cut through the heart of the North Hamlet. Cheng pushed past the basket-laden carts and street vendors toward the grey brick divider that bordered the park.

He had stayed up all night, grinding through an entire ink stick to try to recapture the words of that cursed essay. The examiners would accept such offerings of poetry and short writings, through a so-called “passing of scrolls,” before the official exam as an informal introduction. With his uncultured upbringing, Cheng had failed to recognize such traditions during the previous examination period. He’d been completely overlooked as a nobody during the oral inquiry.

Most of the fresh-faced scholars who crowded the city wards had fathers and grandfathers of notable birth and name. They were practically assured a passing mark. Cheng was only allowed within the academic halls by recommendation. Their local official had spoken of him to Minister Lo, who’d then sponsored his excursion to the imperial capital for the exams. This was his last chance to rise above his birth and bring honour to his family and hometown. He would follow every rule and custom if that’s what was required.

Yet the words wouldn’t come, no matter how much he willed them to. He needed inspiration and it had sadly abandoned him. Rose had been the one bright glimmer in an otherwise dim evening. He paused to smooth a hand over the front of his tunic at the park entrance.

She was inside the gate, standing at the edge of the grass with her back to him. Unlike the previous night, she wore a long grey tunic over trousers. With those colours, she could almost disappear against the grey brick structures of the ward. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected. Not that he knew what to expect, but he’d allowed himself a few whimsical fantasies.

“Rose!”

She didn’t answer. Cheng had to call her name again. He was nearly upon her by the time she swung around, startled.

“You scared me,” she accused.

“I was calling for you.”

In the close quarters of his chamber, she’d seemed so tempting. In the sunlit park, she took on a different appeal. Her skin was pale and radiant, her lips unpainted. He’d been thinking of her face all night in between verses about civic duty. Rose was more intriguing than immediately noticeable as pretty. Her almond eyes seemed too large for her face and her chin narrowed to a point like a cat’s.

Once again he was caught with his tongue stiff, his words tangled. “You sent me a message.”

She glanced over her shoulder once before whipping those deep eyes back to him. “Have you been to the Lotus Pavilion?”

The pagoda stood high just beyond the line of shops. The green tiled roof made it an easily identifiable landmark of the district. At night, the eaves would be hung with a cascade of lanterns. Even in the drunkest of stupors, one could tell where he was by the pavilion’s radiance.

“I can’t afford to drink at the Lotus Pavilion,” he said with a smirk. “Is that where you entertain?”

“Of course not,” she snapped, with the same force of denial he’d affected. She waved her hand about for effect. “If I did work at the Lotus Pavilion, would I be out here? I would be sleeping off the night beneath silken covers.”

The Lotus Pavilion employed the most sought-after courtesans and entertainers. Noblemen and ministers of the highest ranks hosted lavish gatherings there. Only the most fortunate of scholars were ever invited: ones with the right name or connections. Never him.

Rose shook her head, agitated. “What a mess.”

“Is there trouble?”

“A mess,” she muttered again, for dramatic effect. She fixed her hands onto her hips, perplexed.

Cheng was quickly reminded of why he’d ventured there, despite the crumpled draft of his essay that he’d fed into the fire for warmth. He liked mysteries. He also liked her impossibly slender waist and the flare of her hips beneath it. She was much nicer to look at than a blank page.

She looked him up and down. “I don’t understand. The description fit perfectly; tall, shoulders like an ox. Down to that prominent, jutting brow.”

“Really?” His hand flew self-consciously to his forehead.

He was trying to discern whether the description was unflattering when Rose snatched his hand away. Her long, delicate fingers circled his wrist. They were the only thing delicate about her.

“There was a large banquet at the Lotus Pavilion a week ago,” she said impatiently. “One of the attendees looked like you. Another scholar. Do you know him?”

Rose hadn’t been searching for him last night at all. He couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed. “What were you doing sneaking into a man’s bedchamber anyway?” he asked, leveling his gaze to hers.

She realized she was still holding onto him and let go abruptly. “He took something that belongs to me. Something valuable.”

With an impatient huff, she turned away, staring at the narrow width of the park while dropping deep into her own thoughts. Something about her impetuousness fascinated him. She was bold, single-minded, and very much a riddle—like the ones hidden in lanterns for lovers to solve.

“So you’re not a courtesan,” he said.

She made a disgruntled sound in response that was answer enough, but he already sensed she wasn’t one of the peach-blossom beauties that enchanted men to their chambers. Rose was a good name for her. She definitely had more than a few thorns to her.

Her gaze narrowed. “You’re going to help me,” she declared.

“What?”

“Yes.” She straightened to square off against him, which still left her a head shorter. Still she had the look of a marauding barbarian. “I have your books.”

“But those dogs in the alley—”

“I sent them.”

“You?”

He was shocked more than outraged. His knuckles were scuffed from the fight. Her eyes flickered to his left cheek, the same spot where a bruise had formed. She flinched before glancing away. At least she felt some remorse.

“I should go to the city guards and have you arrested,” he growled.

His threat brought her fire back. “I know every official in the district. And what evidence do you have? Another drunken student got himself mugged. The magistrate hears that story every day.”

His retort died before it left his lips. The ward station had been less than helpful when he’d gone to them. They’d appeared bored, not even caring that his name had been marked down incorrectly in the report.

He tried to appeal to her sense of reason. “There’s an essay in there that I need before the imperial exams.”

“Then you have no choice but to help me.”

He folded his arms over his chest. This woman was going to be the end of him. “What do you propose?”

“You find this other student and bring me what he stole from the Lotus Pavilion.”

“And what is that?”

“A book.”

“A book?”

“It’s a very valuable book.” She tucked her hands into her sleeves nervously. “A book of poetry.”

Rose didn’t strike him as a connoisseur of poems. There was something else there. A hint of desperation had crept into her expression. She tried to play as if she held something over him, but in truth she was the one in need.

“It’s the personal journal of the courtesan Xue Lin,” she continued.

“Xue Lin?”

The infamous courtesan was well known. Her poems had been presented within the imperial court to the Emperor himself.

“I have no interest in her exalted verses. Someone is offering a fortune for that book. Enough to pay my debts and be free of this place.” She looked away, but he’d seen how her mouth grew tight. Her tone was thin, forced. “I could play the pipa until my hair turns grey and I wouldn’t earn that much.”

In profile, her fine bone structure appeared more delicate and vulnerable. It was as if he were seeing her again for the first time; the plain clothing, the slightness of her frame. She didn’t have the soft, rounded curves of a well-fed courtesan or a pampered singsong girl. Rose earned her stay in the North Hamlet as a musician, coin by coin.

Perhaps her sharp, snappish nature worked on the people she consorted with. It made her formidable enough to be taken seriously, to have some measure of authority. She didn’t have a courtesan’s seductive ways, so she’d put on another layer of armour, warding people away with the fierceness of her scowl.

“The book doesn’t really belong to you,” he said.

“I have more right to it than that dog who took it from the Pavilion. I live here, grew up here. You scholars just come to drink and laugh until the cash runs out. And then you write home to rich fathers for more.”

A moment of guilt washed over him. He’d considered writing to Minister Lo that morning to ask for more funds, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d already failed the exams one time. If he didn’t pass this time, it would be another three years before the exams would be administered again. Cheng would rather return home, a no-name, than ask for another chance. He’d work the fields for the rest of his life to repay the minister what he already owed.

All Rose wanted was a chance as well. She wasn’t so different from him.

“I knew you weren’t a courtesan,” he began. “When you were in my room you seemed so nervous.”

The perfumed flowers of the evening didn’t solicit men in their private apartments. Patrons came to the courtesans to worship. He had been drawn in by her awkwardness and her sincerity—though she’d been lying to him at the time.

“And also so uncultured,” he added.

Her gaze narrowed menacingly. It was good to get the best of her for once.

“That’s not to say you’re lacking in grace—”

Rose’s eyes flashed like a sleek tigress ready to lunge for his throat. He imagined her claws unsheathing beneath her manicured nails.

“Or charm.” He grinned, decidedly unapologetic.

“For a scholar, you show a great talent for an improper choice of words.” Her lower lip pouted fuller than her upper lip and he knew he was about to do something foolish.

“I do know the man you’re looking for,” he admitted.

“You do? Where is he?”

That got her interest. She was all mercenary, this Rose.

Zhang Guo was his height and build. Other than that, they were night and day. Guo was the son of a merchant who did lucrative business within the city. His father had money. His father had influence. Guo went on and on about it.

He couldn’t let her try to sneak into Guo’s chamber. A little musician could get her hands broken for stealing from someone with Guo’s status. His words escaped before reason settled in.

“I’ll have to show you.”

She met Cheng in the courtyard outside his chambers that night. The moon was high and round, with that faint harvest gleam that marked it as a night for recitations of poetry. She’d come straight from her last performance with her pipa in hand. Cheng was waiting just inside the front gate which led into the courtyard. Three wings formed the walls of the enclosed space, with each wing containing a series of private apartments.

Hopeful scholars preparing for the exams stayed in courtyard houses such as these throughout the city, paying for the rooms by the month. Year after year, a new cycle of students came and went. Jia wondered what would happen to the imperial capital without the yearly crop of scholars to fill its drinking houses and tea rooms.

Cheng’s hands were folded behind his back as he gazed up at the sky contemplatively. What was it with scholars and the moon?

He must have heard her footsteps as he turned to her the moment she entered. With a long look, he took her in from head to toe. She was once again in full costume. Her robe was turquoise and embroidered with lilies along the seams and the silk flowed down her figure like a cascade of water. Her hair was coiled and pinned, her lips stained with a shock of red.

“You look pretty tonight.”

Men were so predictable. “Scholars with your honey and sugar words,” she scoffed.

Cheng’s crooked grin surprised her. “I haven’t even begun to wield my poetry on you.”

“Come on. I don’t have much time,” she snapped, but a small spiral of unexpected pleasure curled through her.

They had agreed to meet at the first hour, the Hour of the Rat, and though it was late into the night, it was early when it came to the nightly festivities in the district. She had been playing at a lakeside gathering for a minor official and she’d had to leave early, leaving all those precious coins behind. Maybe after tonight, it wouldn’t matter.

“Where’s my bag?” he asked.

“When I have Xue Lin’s journal.”

He shrugged and led her into the courtyard. She froze when he beckoned her behind the branches of a potted tree in the corner. What kind of mischief was he thinking of? Her grip tightened around the neck of the pipa. She’d hit him over the head with it if he even blinked at her wrong. Not that the instrument would stop a man of his size, and breaking it would add several hundred cash in debt onto her ledger.

“We’re supposed to go get the book,” she protested.

He stopped a respectable distance away. “Guo lives there.” He pointed to a door across the courtyard. “You weren’t too far away when you wandered into my chamber.”

“Is he in there now?”

“At this time?” Cheng sneered. “Guo’s evening is just beginning. He’ll be gone for hours. Stay here.”

“Wait.” She grabbed onto his sleeve as he started toward the door. “You’re going in there alone?”

“If I’m caught, I can always say I was drunk and wandered into the wrong room.” His mouth twitched as his eyes met hers. “You would be more difficult to explain.”

She could see the bruise over his cheek. It looked worse than it had that morning. He’d taken a decent blow to the face to earn that mark. Something didn’t feel right about this. Why was Cheng so willing to help her?

“Keep watch for me,” he said.

She sank back into the corner behind the shrubbery while Cheng moved across the courtyard. Within moments, he disappeared through the door. No locks in these quarters. They were so trusting.