The composition was exquisite. Not enough for Zhaoyang to willingly inflict company upon herself, but certainly the sort of artistry she could appreciate. Unlike Kaixuan, she had zero interest in painting, poetry, and any number of ‘courtly’ endeavors the former employed in an effort to present his best self to the ladies. The eldest meticulously apportioned her time amongst fruitful ventures only. When she wasn’t pouring over treatises on strategies and governance or thickening the callouses on her palms at the practice grounds, music was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself.
As for the courtesan who actually produced the music, she paid less attention. Beautiful was beautiful after a while, and Zhaoyang has certainly seen many beautiful women in her twenty-eight years. But, by and large, women - men, anyone - bored her. It was fairer to say that looks alone did little to move Zhaoyang, in stark contrast to the appraising glances Kaixuan paid to the strumming courtesan. She had enough to worry about without adding that dreaded word - courtship - to the list.
Her enjoyment of the piece was abruptly interrupted by the door being thrown open. Doomed to be marred with frown lines early, she was, with the way that scowl kept deepening. Her number of dislikes were high enough to merit multiple scrolls, but crying women doubtlessly ranked near the top. Those irate jades bore into the prostrating handmaiden, and, though she said nothing, her glare did all the talking for her. Out with it. Hua-er continued to babble away, violent sobs interrupting words, but thankfully not so much that her words became unintelligible.
The burned doll was placed on the low table between the two siblings, and they exchanged a look. Zhaoyang’s eyes narrowed, and Kaixuan looked on the verge of rage. Although neither of them were particularly superstitious, a blooded and burnt doll bearing the Shen family name was the most blatant provocation imaginable. Leaving aside the fact that there was a murderer on the loose, this was doubtlessly the sort of thing that terrified servants and, very likely, was already making its way through the rumor mill. On the night of their victory celebration, for this to occur… Unthinkable. Vile. Aggravating.
It appeared that her intuition was never wrong, and Zhaoyang’s alcohol-induced headache worsened. Pain, however, had never done anything beyond inciting her ire, and as such, it was she who noticed first that Han Shu was staring at the doll with utter terror. Paler than usual, like all the blood had drained from her face, a sway now–
She lunged. In a blink and a flutter of the decorative sanguine-black sleeve, she had traversed the length of the room in a casual display of martial prowess. Stoic black encircled pastel pale blue, a proximity they had not shared since Han Shu’s betrothal to Kaixuan. No words, as always, but a look of concern did briefly cross her features. It was well known that Lady Shu was a devout Buddhist, and, beyond offering incense ever which turn, that unfortunately also meant a certain degree of superstition. Han Shu gasped into the steadying grasp, mind racing from the dark arts implied by the blooded doll.
“Blasted mouse-brained servant,” Kaixuan cursed, rising from his seat as well, only to immediately brace against the arm of the chair, nearly swaying himself. “Urg,” his hand flew to his forehead, tea capable of doing only so much to alleviate the mammoth amount he had consumed. “I should have you flogged for your indiscretion. How dare you terrify my wife with such gruesome details. Have you completely forgotten all notions of prudence?!”
Hua-er visibly flinched, but before she could say anything else, it was Han Shu who cut in. “I-I’m alright,” she insisted, despite the tremor in her voice still, stabilizing herself against Zhaoyang’s arms. Pale as she was, at least she no longer looked on the verge of fainting. “Please pardon Hua-er, my lord, she’s not used to braving the grisly sights of the frontlines as you are.”
Meanwhile, Zhaoyang beckoned over one of the female servants bowed low, stepping back and allowing the servant to take her place by Han Shu’s side. She surveyed the room, noting the state of the various servants as well as the brand new courtesan, before speaking. Her voice was not loud, nor particularly high, but imbued with a certain inborn authority that commanded attention. “Xiao,” she addressed the butler first, “Where is Wu located?” The butler bowed low, stammering, “T-the zen garden, Commandant, in…” He hesitated, swallowing, but continued lest he risked Zhaoyang’s wrath. “In the west wing.”
If Zhaoyang thought anything about that fact, the same did not show on her face. Instead, she continued, without pause, in the same unfaltering tone. “Make haste to the captain of the guard corps and relay my orders. I want the entire estate locked down and patrols every hour. Now.” Xiao nodded, rushing out of the room.
“Kai, I will investigate the crime scene myself.” The younger looked on the verge of arguing, and Zhaoyang smoothed it over by adding. “This is clearly directed at our family. I suggest you take Shu and reside in the master wing tonight. Keep an eye on father.” In truth, she just wanted him to sleep off that hangover, because it was obvious that he was in no shape to do much of anything right now. But the implication that he would be standing guard over the most important man in Wugui seemed to sooth him, and he nodded his acquiescence.
“As for you,” those penetrating jades finally drifted over the neglected songstress kneeling before the zither, “accompany me for a walk; bring your instrument.” It was not the place of servants to divine the intention of their lords, and as such, Zhaoyang was not in the habit of providing an explanation. To be clear, she didn’t like Chao for the murder; that was too much of a stretch even for her suspicious nature. However, Chao had came from the imperial court, and there were quite a few rat bastards there who were not on the best terms with the Shen, specifically with how much power the Shen family held. The courtesan wore demure and frightened believably, but any spy would be capable of at least that much. Since she had dispatched Kaixuan for the night anyway, there was no time like present to do some digging.
“From the capital to this frontier city…a rather unlucky assignment, wouldn’t you say?” She queried once they made it out of the foyer, glancing over her shoulder to study the courtesan’s expression. There were any number of more innocent questions she could have led with, but Zhaoyang was to the point not without reason. Wugui was doubtlessly wealthy, but the commerce here was still nothing compared to the imperial capital. With Chao's looks and her skills upon the zither, it stood to reason that she must have played for any number of lords and ladies back at the capital. To essentially be banished here and given a servant’s quarters, no courtesan of her position would not harbor some level of bitterness. A spy, however, would not, though a clever one might know to feign the same. It didn’t matter. Zhaoyang was a veritable master at scrutinizing the nuances.
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