was a body lying in the boat at the edge of the water. An arm poked out from the length of canvas draped over the vessel and the skin covering it was black and rotted.
CHAPTER TWO
THE DUANWU FESTIVAL took place on the fifth day of the fifth month. An hour after sunrise, the dragonboats were already moving into position for the traditional race down the Grand Canal. Bai Huang stood at the keel of one of the colorful vessels as it floated toward the starting dock. He enjoyed the warm breeze over his face and the marsh and mud scent of the water, which he always associated with this city.
It was summer, the banquet season, and he was finally back in the capital of Changan, surrounded by all its grandeur. Twenty-five pairs of rowers lined the boat, operating the oars in unison. They pulled at a leisurely pace to conserve their strength. Huang stood where the drummer would be seated. He enjoyed the quiet of the morning as the crowds began to gather on either side of the river.
As they neared the dock Huang spied a figure moving among the tethered boats. Yue-ying, the industrious little maidservant. She did manage to show up everywhere, didn’t she? Unlike the courtesans of the quarter, she didn’t seem confined to her house. He had seen her dodging carts in the market, running to wine shops, even hauling drunken patrons of the Lotus Palace onto sedan chairs after a particularly long night.
She’d done so once for him last autumn. He’d attempted to flirt with her even though she was only a servant because he figured it was expected of him. The fool Bai Huang lacked shame or manners, but he made up for it with good looks and money, so he was tolerated.
The girl had treated him like a sack of potatoes that night. After that, Huang had made a point of trying to catch her eye, but she couldn’t be charmed. She couldn’t be bribed. He was fascinated.
Today she wore a pale green robe, the color almost nonexistent and only there to keep the dress from being white. She tried so very hard to be nondescript, to disappear, but her face was likely the most recognizable one in the quarter.
The birthmark over her left cheek was a swirl of dark red. It ran down her face and along the line of her jaw, stopping just short of her chin. Her complexion otherwise was fair, highlighting the stain even more. It was as if an artist painting her had started to form the shape of her mouth when he’d inadvertently splashed red ink over the paper. He then left it there, finding the stain created a spark of drama beyond mere prettiness. Like finding a bloodred peony among the snow.
“Little Moon!” he called out. The rowers kept up their rhythm, moving him closer to the dock and to her. “Little Moon, over here.”
By the third time he called, he was certain Yue-ying had heard him, but was making a concerted effort not to turn a single eyelash in his direction. She continued speaking to the drummer of the yellow vessel while her hand rested on the carved dragon’s head. She straightened her fingers momentarily, issuing a silent signal for him to go away. Stubborn girl. It had been over a week since his social misstep of speaking directly to her in Mingyu’s company. Surely he should be forgiven by now?
“Yue-ying, don’t be angry,” he pleaded, laughter in his tone. The boat glided slowly past her and he had to walk down the length of it toward the tail just to keep her within shouting distance. “Come and let me apologize properly.”
She turned. The look on her face was pure exasperation, but it didn’t matter. He’d won a small victory.
The sweep steered the boat toward its assigned spot on the dock and the rowers lifted their oars and let momentum carry them the last stretch. A dozen boats were laid out along the canal, each one carved and painted like a celestial dragon from head to tail. By the next double hour, the officials would assemble to start the race.
Yue-ying stood on the dock, looking down at him. A vermilion sash circled her slender waist, in contrast to the muted colors in the rest of her dress. Her hair was arranged to fall over one shoulder, leaving one side of her face and neck exposed. The unmarked half, he noted with interest.
He remained in the boat while the crew disembarked to stretch their legs and rest before the starting gong. Yue-ying stepped aside to let them pass, watching them go before returning her gaze to him.
“What are you doing out here so early, Little Moon?”
“Please do not call me that.”
“It’s just an endearment. Between friends.” The first character of her name was “moon”. He thought it nominally creative of him.
Her eyes narrowed on him. “If you insist on making trouble for me, I will have to leave. Lord Bai.”
The honorific was clearly added only as an afterthought. She was getting quite bold for the servant of a servant, he thought with amusement.
“Miss Yue-ying,” he corrected obligingly. “Please forgive me.”
She appeared to accept his humble offering. “I’m getting an accounting of the dragonboats for Lady Mingyu. In case anyone wants to discuss which one she thinks will win.”
“Very clever! Your mistress sent you out here to do that?”
“I thought it might come up. How is your crew feeling today, might I ask?” She looked the boat over from head to tail as she spoke.
“Strong as the west wind,” he boasted.
“Will you be rowing as well?”
His chest might have puffed out a little. He smirked as she tried to assess his physique, the calculations clicking in place inside her head. Yue-ying had been completely indifferent to his appearance before then. Did she judge him a strength or a handicap in terms of the rowing?
“Ah, I would be nothing but added weight. I’ll be placing a few of my own wagers and watching from a comfortable place away from the sun,” he admitted.
“Well.” She angled a sly side-glance to her left. “Definitely bet against the orange dragon, then.”
“Oh?” he asked, intrigued.
“And Chancellor Li’s boat, the blue dragon, was just constructed last month. He wanted to have the most magnificent vessel in the water, and he will, but that dragon head looks awfully heavy.”
“And who will win?”
“Green,” she said without hesitation. “And perhaps gold.”
“Why those two?”
She shrugged. “I like the colors.”
Her eyes were alight with mischief. Huang had the sudden urge to take hold of the trailing end of that red ribbon around her waist and reel her in close.
“Have you ever been on a dragonboat?” he asked instead. He held out an inviting hand to her, but she shook her head.
“Thank you for the kind offer, Lord Bai, but my mistress is waiting.” The momentary playfulness he’d glimpsed in her had been firmly banished to the frontier.
“Come, for just a moment. To make up for my behavior the other day,” he coaxed.
“I prefer to stay on land.” She looked nervously over the water. “Someone recently drowned not too far from here.”
He hadn’t heard any news of that, but there were waterways throughout the city. It couldn’t be too uncommon.
“You’ll be safe in here. I’ll see to it myself,” he assured her, flashing her a grin.
Yue-ying sighed, long and loud so he could hear. “Is there a letter or some trinket you wish me to bring to Mingyu?”
It was true he had asked her to pass along little tokens in the past. Mingyu probably expected something by way of an apology after he’d broken the unspoken rule of paying attention to anyone other than her. As if having to sit through an evening while the beautifully cold courtesan either ignored him or verbally eviscerated him weren’t punishment