Bo Li suddenly remembered—could it be that Erik had been taking her to performances so frequently these days because she once mentioned wanting to form a circus troupe?
At present, it was only the two of them. If they truly wanted to form a circus, it was indeed necessary to recruit more performers.
Bo Li came to a sudden realization.
No wonder he had been taking her to watch so many plays recently—it turned out he was helping her scout for talent.
Fortunately, she had paid close attention to every performance. Otherwise, if one day he asked her on a whim which performer she liked best, and she could not answer, she would be finished.
The ones she wanted most were that cross-dressing beauty, a beast tamer, a disfigured freak actor, and a pair consisting of a giant and a dwarf.
As for why she wanted the disfigured freak actor, she had her own considerations.
Up to now, Erik had never told her why he wore a mask.
She faintly sensed that this might be a major turning point in their relationship.
But she could not possibly say it outright: I know you look terrifying, take off your mask.
The only way was to find a disfigured freak actor, and through this, subtly convey the meaning: I do not mind your appearance.
She did not know if Erik would be able to understand.
Bo Li had a strong sense of being a diligent worker. She planned to finish her bath, then go back and write a proposal for Erik.
Who would have thought that when she returned to her room, Erik was already nowhere to be seen.
Bo Li could not help letting out a breath of relief.
Being with Erik was certainly thrilling, but it was like salt—delicious, yet not to be consumed in excess.
Otherwise, it could be fatally dangerous.
Bo Li pulled aside a servant, handed him some change, and asked him to buy her a few notebooks.
The manager’s wallet had been even fatter than she had imagined. One had to know that at this time, a male worker laboring for a whole year could only earn a little more than three hundred dollars. Yet in the manager’s wallet there had been a thousand dollars—not counting currencies from other countries.
Bo Li had taken several deep breaths before she managed to suppress the impulse to snatch the money and run away.
Ten minutes later, the servant returned with the notebooks. He also brought her a letter, saying it was entrusted to him by a gentleman.
Bo Li had a bad premonition, but did not show it on her face. She accepted the notebooks and the letter, and said “thank you.”
It was obvious—this was either a letter from Tricky, or a letter from Boyd.
She could not help feeling a little vexed—Erik had left too quickly. What if the letter contained words meant to sow discord?
If he were beside her, she could have simply handed it to him, letting him deal with it as he pleased.
Regretfully, Bo Li opened the letter.
Never mind—she would read it first. If anything seemed amiss, she could still hand it over to Erik later.
—
“To Miss Polly Claremont,
I am most sorry for not having written to you for so long. I encountered a misfortune: a vicious criminal cut off my fingers.
In these past days I have been sunk in grief, feeling myself a broken, incomplete man, unwilling to step beyond my door. It was Mr. Tricky who persuaded me, who led me back into the light of day.”
Even in the midst of such grief, I have not forgotten the matter you entrusted to me.
A gathering is scheduled for this Saturday at Mrs. Hilly’s residence, the guests all being well-known mediums. I have secured a place for a female companion, and hereby invite you to attend with me.
Address appended: No. 128, Garden Villa Street, New Orleans, Louisiana.
Lawrence Boyd”
—
Bo Li had not expected that Erik had not killed Boyd, but had only cut off his fingers.
Perhaps it was because, since her transmigration, she had brushed against death several times; her disposition had grown somewhat callous, and she felt that someone like Boyd deserved to die.
Who knew how many women he had deceived with that medium’s rhetoric.
Moreover, the women he deceived were not necessarily all young ladies from wealthy families; there might well have been girls from impoverished households.
From ancient times to the present, mediums could never have aided others without payment.
This showed that Boyd very likely cheated both money and lust.
Although the nineteenth century already had a women’s movement, it mainly called for suffrage, held reading clubs, and established women’s labor unions.
It was not until the 1960s that sexual concepts underwent major change.
—At this time, women were only relatively free in thought, while their bodies were still bound in layer upon layer of constraints.
Just like those cross-dressing beauties: on the surface, they could cut their hair short, wear suits, and play gentlemen upon the stage.
Yet once they stepped down, they had to change back into skirts, otherwise they risked arrest under the charge of “offending public decency.”
It could well be imagined what fate awaited those women deceived of both wealth and body by Boyd.
Thus, she believed Boyd’s death would be no loss.
Lowering her lashes, Bo Li stuffed the letter into a drawer and began writing the proposal for the circus.
By evening, when the servant came to deliver the meal, he also brought two more letters.
Bo Li opened them with an impassive face.
—
“To Miss Polly Claremont,
I know you have read my letter. At present I have no face to see you; forgive me for continuing to speak to you through letters.
In your heart, have I already become a charlatan?
But I beg you to believe, I am a genuine medium. On the day I touched you, I saw many incredible things within your blood. You have a mysterious origin.
Alas, my learning is shallow, and I cannot interpret those wondrous visions. That is why I invited you to the mediums’ gathering—hoping that I might relieve you of some of your troubles.
Those mediums are all women of real substance, renowned in the spirit world. I hope you will not, on my account, overlook their accomplishments.
Lawrence Boyd”
—
The other letter was from Tricky Terry.
“My dear Poli—or should it be Polly?
Do rest assured, I am a man of strict discretion. I will certainly never reveal that you dressed as a man, nor will I report you to the morality police to have you arrested.
If my guess is not mistaken, it was Erik who cut off Boyd’s fingers, was it not?
You truly are a mischievous little girl—secretly consorting with the Devil, yet never uttering a word about his existence.
On account of your pretty looks, I forgive you, and am willing to tell you some things that even your former employer did not know.
Erik’s origins are not as simple as you imagine. He is not that pitiful creature in your eyes, the youth long subjected to abuse.
His appearance is no different from the Devil’s, yet his experiences—are such that even the Devil would tremble in fear.
Perhaps you have heard that he is a master of trapdoors and hidden passages. But do you know that he was once a much-coveted minister of the Persian kingdom?
The Persians who let him escape told me: the most proper, respectable house, once it passed through his hands, would become a dreadful lair. Whatever you said or did inside would be overheard or carried away in echoes.
Even long after he had departed, the people there still dared not speak loudly, fearing he might be listening behind them.
Just think—your every move watched by him, your every word overheard by him—no matter where you go, he will follow you like a shadow—
You are a clever little girl, so tell me: do you truly wish to associate with such a terrifying man? Do you truly believe you are safe at his side?
Do you wish to be rid of him?
No. 128, Garden Villa Street. Do not fail to appear.
Tricky Terry”
—
After reading, Bo Li put away the three letters, ready to hand them to Erik the moment he returned.
Attempt to sow discord, to set her and Erik at odds?
Impossible.