The Last Concubine

concerned with the general, but this was not the time to voice that opinion. “Do you think you were in time?”
    “I don’t know,” Jiang said irritably. “How long was she ill? What poison was administered to her and how much did she take? At least I hope I did her no harm.”
    Ning settled on the floor, his back against the copper bath to wait with Jiang. Both of them fixed their gaze on the white, unconscious face, listening to Lan’xiu’s labored breathing grow quieter. Shadows began to deepen, and Ning was thinking of lighting a lamp when the door opened. He sprang to his feet, ready to chase any of the servitors away if they intruded, but stopped when he saw it was Hüi Wei.
    “Is she all right?”
    “Resting now. I administered an emetic and a soothing agent,” Jiang said. “What news of Alute?”
    “She is dead.”
    Ning piped up. “Lan’xiu said something about Ci’an, Second Wife, also drinking the wine.”
    Hüi Wei’s face was grim. “Ci’an laughed when I told her Alute died, but she didn’t answer any questions. She gave me the bottle of wine, but I’m sure she switched it for an innocent one, she gave it so willingly. They all drank from the same bottle, and Ci’an had even more….”
    “We should get the princess to bed,” Jiang said practically.
    “Let me bathe her first,” Ning said.
    Silently, the three of them removed Lan’xiu’s clothing. Despite his concern, Ning noticed how staggered Jiang seemed by the beauty of Lan’xiu’s form: every line scribed so elegantly, every plane of muscle, the delicacy of his bone structure…. Ning was so used to thinking of Lan’xiu in a particular way, seeing him through the other men’s eyes jolted him into a renewed awareness of Lan’s masculine form. Ning sponged the sheen of sweat from Lan’s body and the blood from his lips, and hoped the general realized what a lucky man he was.
    Ning wrapped a sleep robe about Lan’xiu, and Hüi himself lifted the insensate young man and carried him to the bed.
    Lan’xiu seemed to be sleeping more easily now, his face pale on the pillows. With the quilt drawn up, his slight body made barely a mound under the cover. Ning set a lantern on the chest by the bed and sat down.
    “I will watch over her,” Hüi said. “Get your dinner, Ning. You will be needed to remain alert by her side all night.”
    Reluctantly, Ning walked to the door, and then an idea struck him. He turned back. “My Lord!”
    “Yes.”
    “The women below stairs believe that Lan’xiu has lost your child.”
    Hüi and Jiang stared at each other. Jiang nodded.
    Hüi said, “You may tell them that is the truth.”
    “Thank you, my Lord.” Ning withdrew, well satisfied. No need to spell things out for either man; they were both clever enough to recognize the opportunity and seize it, using it to the advantage of all concerned.
    He arranged his face suitably for mourning and descended to confirm the bad news to Jia, knowing that every soul within the palace walls would know before dawn that Lan’xiu had been pregnant with Hüi’s child and lost it. He resolved to subtly imply that somehow Ci’an was at the bottom of the tragedy. After all, every lie was the better with a little truth sprinkled in for seasoning.
     
     
    H ÜI W EI groaned as he watched Lan’xiu sleep. “Poor Alute,” Naturally he was disturbed at her tragic passing, but he knew it was nothing compared to what he would be feeling had Lan’xiu been the victim.
    “Do you think Ci’an truly did this?” Jiang asked.
    “Yes. I don’t know how, but she managed it somehow. She has always hated Alute, because she was pretty and restful,” Hüi said.
    “And she gave you a son,” Jiang said shrewdly.
    “I thought Ci’an was resolved to take Mei Ju’s place. I never suspected that she would turn her sights to the concubines below her,” Hüi Wei said, holding tightly to Lan’xiu’s hand. “I should have foreseen—”
    “One cannot foresee everything. And you have enough to look after without having a war raging within your household. It seems Ci’an has changed her strategy,” Jiang said, “Which raises the question—”
    “How did she drink of the same bottle and suffer no ill effects,” Hüi interjected.
    “I suspect Ci’an may be an arsenic eater,” Jiang said. “Tell me, is her hair glossy and her eyes bright?”
    “Like a panther in a forest,” Hüi said. “She is most unfortunately very beautiful. However, I have taken