Chapter 11
Hua Xiaoting
Nanjing
Hua Xiaoting left her room with steps as quick as she could manage on her bound feet. It seemed the rumors were true—Zheng He’s fleet had finally returned home, laden with strange animals and mysterious artifacts from distant and mythical lands.
The courtyard was chaos as servants unloaded wooden crates and carved chests from the carts that continued to roll through the gates. Her gaze sought out the tall man speaking to her head maid, his voice booming over the din. “Fetch me your mistress, for I would speak with her.”
“Such a racket, Admiral,” Xiaoting called from the shade of the pavilion where she stood.
Zheng He strode across the courtyard when he saw her, servants scurrying out of his way. “We must talk, you and I.”
“Welcome home.” Xiaoting hid the fear his tone created in her heart and kept her voice light and playful. “You honor me with a visit. I thought you would be regaling the emperor with tales of potential conquests.”
She nodded at her maid to prepare the suitable presents for Zheng He to take back with him.
There would be nothing special—some bolts of a rare silk she’d been gifted from a grateful client, said to have been woven by the legendary Empress Xi Lingshi herself, and a gold statue of a tiger so expertly crafted the animal looked as though it would slink off into the night if left unwatched.
They were inadequate compared to the bounty he’d brought, but it would be enough to serve politeness.
Xiaoting itched to see her new treasures: the herbs and flowers and resins and woods and spices she could craft into beauty.
Lucrative, magical beauty. She schooled her expression.
It would never do to appear too eager. That gave away the advantage, something Xiaoting hated to do.
“You’ve upheld your part of the deal,” she observed to her longtime friend as they walked through the corridor, he matching her much slower pace. Perhaps ally was a better term, for one rarely had friends in Nanjing. The Yongle emperor’s capital was a fetid cesspool.
“Not as well as you. My holdings have increased threefold since they’ve been in your care.”
Xiaoting smiled, pleased. Zheng He trusted few at court, and she had monitored his people and estates in return for items of interest he came across in his voyages.
She had ached to see the foreign lands herself, but her place was here.
At least Zheng He had more than returned her investment, judging from the riches now filling the courtyard.
He followed as she tottered into the workshop, where small bottles and jars were meticulously lined up on the shelves.
As usual, her apprentices—orphan girls rescued from certain death or sold to Xiaoting instead of brothels—worked with nimble fingers as they created the bases for the moli fragrances for which the Hua family was known.
The magical scents. Xiaoting’s mother, An, was busy in another part of the compound with Xiaoting’s own daughters, though usually An would be here to teach the girls as well.
An was not a fifth daughter like Xiaoting, but her moli was in high demand from those who wished to increase their bravery. The admiral was a repeat customer.
Unlike her mother’s moli scent, which was made in abundance for those who could afford it, Xiaoting’s was strictly rationed.
The ability to find one’s true love would only be sold to those who could pay well, and scarcity created need.
Xiaoting priced her wares high, and the profits filled the Hua storerooms.
Zheng He stood by the door, restless eyes roaming over the space, the girls, and the jars.
His gaze rose to the dried herbs and flowers that hung from bars on the ceiling, covered with silk to prevent dust from settling, then down to the bowls of spices stacked tidily along a wall, some of their contents whole and some already ground to a fine powder.
He was always like this, a man-size ball of barely contained energy, sharp gaze constantly assessing his surroundings for both threats and opportunities.
Wherever he went, the admiral brought the power of the waves on which his armada sailed.
It was his greatest charm or most repellant trait, depending on who was judging.
Xiaoting liked it. She found it stimulating, like standing in a hard rain.
“Empty the room,” ordered Zheng He.
Xiaoting’s eyebrows rose, but she pushed back her wide sleeves to clap her hands. “Girls, go and walk in the garden. I want each of you to come back with a single flower or leaf to describe to me.” There was no need for them to waste time when they could be improving their craft.
There was a small hum at this unexpected treat before the girls filed out, their voices fading as they clattered down the corridor. “Xiaoting, you have made a mess of things,” Zheng He said. He sounded regretful.
Her back stiffened at the informal use of her name.
Allies or friends they might be, but this was an unwelcome intimacy.
Nor did she like his insinuation that she was naught but a silly woman.
It was as bad as her husband’s resentment of her for being too much like a man. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You sold to the wrong people, ones with flapping tongues. The power of a witch who could call love was the first story I heard when I came into the city. By the time I reached my own compound, it had grown to a sorceress who could create both love and hate.”
Xiaoting laughed and pushed aside the unease that tingled along her arms. The Hua family gift had been shrouded in the shadows for generations, their scents selling only to a tiny insular group of concubines and rich matrons.
No longer. She’d looked at her little daughters, with their soft cheeks and wide eyes, and had known that it had to change.
The Huas were wealthy, but not wealthy enough.
They needed to be able to protect themselves, and that meant wealth.
After mulling over the problem, she’d come to the only solution and had expanded their client list to anyone willing to pay.
Her mother had protested at the beginning, but Xiaoting was a fifth daughter.
Her moli fragrances were the ones that brought in the caskets of gold and taels of silver, the ivory and the jade.
It gave her the right to make the decisions.
“Better for business,” Xiaoting said, leaning down to tidy Liaobing’s workspace. The girl was talented but messy. “I’m curious as to why you think I need to explain my actions to you.”
Zheng He frowned at her. He might be a eunuch, but he was still a man and did not appreciate impertinence from a mere woman. “You sold to the Li family.”
“Only to one.” The second wife was a confident woman, small, sure, and discreet—or so Xiaoting had thought. She didn’t usually misstep.
“The first wife has died.”
She fixed her sleeve. “The first wife has been unwell for over a year. My perfume has nothing to do with that. The second wife only wanted to confirm her place in her husband’s heart as she aged.
” The woman had been certain her husband was her true love and wanted a moli fragrance to bind them tighter.
Xiaoting hadn’t bothered to correct her as to the truth of the moli power—that sometimes one’s true love was not who one thought or wanted.
After all, money was money, and if the woman was so deluded about her role in the household, so be it.
Let her mistake safety for love. Perhaps her real true love would change her heart, if she was open to it.
Or perhaps not. She might be grasping, as well as gullible, and reject true love if it came in the form of a servant or maid.
“They think she poisoned the first wife,” said Zheng He.
She laughed lightly. “They say that every time a first wife dies. If men could keep themselves to only one woman as we are constrained to one man, there would be fewer problems.”
“They say your perfume was the poison she used,” continued Zheng He. It was as if he hadn’t heard her.
Now Xiaoting became angry. “How could that be? It’s a fragrance.”
“They say it was cursed. That you cursed it because a witch who can bring love can easily call death.” He raised his eyebrows. “Especially if that death creates an opportunity for an adversary.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, giving Liaobing’s workspace another swipe with her sleeve. She would have to punish the girl by making her clean the whole workroom again. “It was a sachet of camphor and cinnamon, nothing more.” Not very original, but neither was the second wife.
“They also say that the perfume has been lost and now anyone can use it, even against the emperor himself.”
Xiaoting wanted to slap her hands on the wall to release some of her anger, but the impulse died quickly. “That’s not true. The first person to use the scent is the one to get its benefit. It’s not a cloud, indiscriminate in what its shadow covers, but a stream poured from a pot into a single cup.”
“The truth never matters. You know that.”
She looked at him closely. “What do you know, Admiral?”
“I know such rumors are already being planted by the Lis. They are your rivals at court, and they’ve taken the opportunity to blacken your name to the emperor.”
“We are already powerful enough to withstand those little arrows.” She tried to keep the prideful note from her voice.
“The Lis are also powerful. More than that, they are snakes and they will poison the emperor further against you. The eldest son is one of his advisers. Are you greater than innuendo and rumor? Than the pleasure people take in bringing down a woman with power?”
She shook her head. “I bought a place at court for my uncles.” Not her husband, who was good only to curse at her from his studio, where he drank wine and composed bad poetry while pretending his failure as a scholar didn’t sting. “They will fight for us.”