The Way of the Tigress 1-4

by Jade Lee - The Way of the Tigress 1-4

  She looked away, but she did not forget. And soon, the delights of the table faded in the anticipation of the night to come.

  Either because he was a master in those arts or because he knew her so well, he drew out the meal, extending her anticipation until she was at a fever pitch. Ru Shan leaned back in his cushions, taking time with his food, picking up tiny morsels and single grains of rice with his chopsticks. Yet all the while, his eyes were on her, watching her every movement, seeing her every expression and God alone knew what else. Still, his attention warmed her from the tips of her toes all the way up through her blushing cheeks.

  He began to ask her questions. He wanted to know everything about her. Even more than before, he encouraged her to talk about England, her family, and her childhood. She warmed to the topic of her father, dead now nearly three months. In truth, she confessed, he was an average doctor, but he'd had a great heart and large, gentle hands. As a child, she had brought him wounded dogs, hurt birds, and once even an angry ferret. He had been a loving father, and she missed him terribly.

  Ru Shan did not comment when she spoke of him, except to encourage her to talk more. His eyes betrayed a great hunger. Eventually, she slowed in her reminiscences to look at him.

  "Your father is not a gentle man, is he?"

  Ru Shan shook his head. "My father is a man of goals. He creates challenges for me and expects them to be met."

  "And if they are not?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  Ru Shan shrugged. "The Chinese beat disobedient children, but not often. Parents have other ways of enforcing discipline."

  She leaned forward, anxious to hear more. Eventually, he answered her unspoken question.

  "Entire families live as one, Lydia. Parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins—all live in the same compound together. If a child disobeys, the anger of the entire family falls upon him. All, from the youngest child to the oldest great-grandparent, can discipline a child however they see fit. It is our culture's greatest strength."

  "That the entire family holds together?"

  He nodded, but his expression was sad. "It is also our greatest weakness. For the family can decide as a unit what a child must do." He sighed. "The weight of that responsibility is terrible."

  Moved by the sadness in his voice, Lydia reached out and stroked her husband's cheek. His gaze immediately lifted to her face, but she was not looking at his eyes. Instead, she was watching his mouth, the way it pinched tighter, suppressing great pain.

  "You find it hard, don't you? That you must make your family shop profitable. You would much rather study philosophy."

  He shook his head, but slowly, as if feeling out his answer. "I enjoy selling things." He flashed a grin. "And I am good at it." Then he shrugged. "Well, perhaps not at actually selling items. In truth, my father was much better with customers. But I am the one who made sure we had the best supplies, the best things to sell. I made contacts and arranged deliveries. I made sure we were always well stocked, even in the worst of times..."

  "Until now," she said when he did not. She remembered the empty shelves, the bleakness of his store. "What happened?"

  He sighed, his shoulders drooping. His gaze slipped away and he toyed with his food. "This is not the time to talk of such things."

  She frowned, feeling his stubbornness like a thickness in the air. "Do not put a wedge between us, Ru Shan. Not so early in our marriage." Again she reached out, lifting his chin. This time she put more force into her movement because he resisted. In the end, he gave in, lifting his gaze to hers. His eyes were stormy.

  She leaned forward, putting weight behind her words. "This preys upon you, Ru Shan. If a wife cannot help her husband when he is dismayed, then what good is she?" She paused while he thought. Then she pressed further. "I need to know what has happened if you wish my help."

  He gave in. She watched it happen. It was as if something gave way within him, the stone that locked his feelings inside abruptly cracked. His body even flinched. He closed his eyes. She didn't think about her next movement. She simply shifted on the cushions until he could rest his head in her lap. And while he lay there, her hand idly stroking his side, he began to explain.

  "Shi Po allowed my secret to escape. She told certain people that I kept a white pet. To my people, that alone is enough to make me untrustworthy as a businessman."

  Lydia frowned. "Having a..." She could not even say the words.

  "What do the English think of a man who consorts with animals?" he asked, an apology in his tone.

  Lydia flinched. Even as a protected daughter, she had heard whispers of such things. "We think him unnatural. Unclean, perhaps, is a better word."

  "And would you do business with him?"

  Lydia sighed. "Many doctors would not even treat such a man."

  Ru Shan sighed. "So it is in China as well. Only in China..."

  "White people are considered animals."

  He nodded. His gaze lifted to hers. "We are wrong, Lydia. I didn't know how wrong until I met you."

  Lydia nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. An ugly truth, but true nonetheless. She smiled, quietly telling him that she forgave him his mistake even as she redirected their thoughts.

  "Tell me of Shi Po. She was your teacher in the one thing that you chose for yourself—these Taoist secrets—and she betrayed you in the one way that means the most to your family." Lydia paused. It hurt her to even say the next words. "This woman has used her position to destroy you."

  Ru Shan didn't speak, but the tension in his body answered her.

  "Was it an accident?" Lydia asked. "Did she mean to hurt you?"

  Ru Shan's eyes slipped closed, but his body remained like stone. "Shi Po does nothing by accident." Then he breathed—with obvious thought and intention. Lydia felt his chest raise in stuttering inhalation, but then his exhalation flowed fully out in a great gust of frustration. "Her husband is my greatest competitor. They profit much by my loss."

  Lydia shook her head. How could he have put himself in such a position? "Why did you choose to study with her?"

  "She is the greatest tigress in Shanghai. Many travel from all over China to study with her." He shifted, pushing out of her lap and rising to look directly at her. "There are few who study these arts. Many consider them immoral. As I said to you before... if my father knew the full extent of my study, he would disown me."

  She stared at Ru Shan, seeing his fixed gaze, the taut cast to his features and raised shoulders. She could tell he had just told her something significant, but she was not sure she understood.

  He explained. "For a Chinese son to be disowned means he would be cast out—not only from the family but from all of Chinese society. And from life after death as well. A disowned son is worse than nothing in China. He is evil incarnate. It is more than shameful, it makes you unclean and..." His words faltered as he searched for some way to express the horror he described. "To be unfilial is the worst thing a man can ever do."

  "Unfilial? Meaning to..."

  "To disobey, to dishonor a parent." He took a deep breath, and Lydia could see that he was making a decision. She waited in silence, wondering what he would say next. But he didn't speak. Instead, he stood, abruptly pulling her to her feet. She went easily, studying his face for clues to his thoughts.

  Then suddenly he was kissing her. His mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting harshly into her mouth, taking whatever it touched, as if he were branding her. She did not understand his actions, only the feelings that went with them. She felt his desperation and pain, his need to know she was his, completely and without reservation.

  She opened her mouth and allowed herself to melt into him. Her body rested flush against his and her head fell back, giving him complete access to her body—and to her mind and spirit as well. He took greedily from her, first plundering her mouth, then feasting on the skin of her neck, even the swell of her breasts where she was still covered by her English-style gown.

  E
ventually he slowed, his frenzy diminishing. Slowly, he pulled himself away, tucking her close to his heart with arms that slowly tightened, not to hurt her but to keep her so close as to be one with him. Only then did he speak, his cheek pressed to the side of her head. His words flowed straight from him into her.

  "My father learned of my interest from my cousin, Zhao Gao—the one who long ago I thought ought to be ashamed, but instead was filled with life."

  She nodded, remembering the man he had called "a dou," meaning one of great potential who turned out worthless.

  "My father is not a foolish man. He knew who Shi Po was, knew her to be the only teacher available to me and also the wife of Kui Yu. He forbade me to study, Lydia. He told me that following this course would destroy the shop, destroy our family."

  "But you disobeyed him?"

  He nodded, and she could feel his body tighten. "I wanted to study, Lydia. I wanted to know what Shi Po knows. To feel what Zhao Gao felt. To be—"

  "To be happy." She sighed. Ru Shan had been happy in his studies. She had known it from the first moment they began to practice together. There was great concentration, yes, but also an inherent joy in what they did.

  "The holy men of China have great honor. They are great scholars and moral men."

  "You thought Shi Po was like them?"

  He nodded. "I did not think she would betray me." He released a laugh then, a silent explosion of air that had no humor. "I still do not understand why. They have enough. More, even, than we do. Why would she do this?"

  "Because she is greedy." Lydia spoke without thought. "Because she is not as holy as you believed."

  Ru Shan remained silent, his body growing increasingly heavy as he held her. And though it took some time, she at last understood that he was holding himself back. There was more to the problem than he had let on.

  "What aren't you telling me, Ru Shan? What more is there?"

  He didn't answer at first, but eventually his arms slipped free and he moved backward. His focus was low at first, as he stared at the floor. Eventually his gaze moved up until it came to rest on her face. "I borrowed money, Lydia. To buy you. I borrowed it from Kui Yu, Shi Po's husband."

  Lydia felt her throat tighten, but she somehow found the breath to speak. "How much do you owe? And how much time do you have to repay it?"

  He shook his head. "A few more months."

  "How much?" she pressed. "Do you have any?"

  He shrugged. "I think I can still do it. I think... if your designs sell well." He took her arms, his grip strong but not bruising. "I even have orders, Lydia. I can get fabric because of the orders. But only if you help. You must show our sewers what to do."

  She smiled. "Of course I will help. I can do it first thing in the morning."

  He shook his head. "No, Lydia. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow I will introduce you to my family as my wife."

  She frowned. "But if the pressure..."

  He put his finger to her lips, cutting off her words. "You are my wife, Lydia. I have made it so before your God today, and tomorrow before my family. I will not release you from your vows. I wish to make everything legal between us. Man and wife."

  She nodded, unaccountably pleased with his determination. He wanted her, legally and morally. "So no man can tear us apart," she murmured, echoing the words of their wedding ceremony.

  He grinned. "No man. Nor even Shi Po and all her conniving."

  She smiled, lifting up on her toes to kiss him lightly on the lips. "I will work very hard, my husband, to make our shop very, very, very successful."

  "That would bring me great joy, my wife."

  Lydia let her expression grow more coy, her smile more sensual. "Is there anything else that would bring you great joy, my husband?" she asked.

  He paused, as if considering, but she could see the yang heat building in his eyes. Even if she had not, she felt it where their bodies still pressed tightly together. Slowly, with excruciating care and a great deal of rising yang fire, he began to unbutton her dress. He started at the top, in the center of her neck where the buttons seemed to choke off her breath. Bit by bit, he slipped the fasteners free. And as he released her clothing, she released her yin, letting it flow fully between them.

  She didn't know how it happened, only that it did. Before, he had needed to stroke her breasts to bring her blood to a simmer before the yin power began to flow. None of that was required this time. She felt the power already moving, the yin energy slipping easily between them.

  He must have felt it too, because he let his hands slip to her hips. Holding her there, he prevented her from pressing against his jade dragon, stimulating him even further.

  "I want to become an Immortal tonight, Lydia. The yin and the yang flow freely today between us."

  She smiled. "Yes, I know."

  "You can feel my yang?" He seemed surprised, and she laughed at his puzzlement.

  "Of course I can. It's like a flame licking at my skin." She gave him a quick kiss. "I have felt it from the very first moment, you know."

  He nodded slowly. "They say that women learn much faster than men. It was many months before I could feel yin flow." He smiled, though the movement seemed thoughtful. "With such sensitivity, you will be a wonderful partner for me. Do you object?"

  This time she laughed, her joy bubbling out of her. "Of course I don't. I am your wife."

  He shook his head. "Many women in China—even many wives—consider this sinful."

  She hesitated, thoroughly confused. "But you are... intimate with your wives, right?"

  He nodded. "Yes. But many times such an arrangement is purely for the parents' convenience, not for the happiness of the wife or the groom. Intimacy is required for an heir, but not pleasure."

  She smiled. "For us, it will be our pleasure."

  He grinned, and again she was startled by how young his unrestrained smile made him appear. "Then, you will be my partner? My tigress?"

  "Of course."

  He caressed her face. It wasn't a simple stroke, but a reverent feathering of his fingertips, as if he could not resist touching her. "You are a wonder, Lydia." Then he sobered. "It will require much yin from you. Much..." He frowned, searching for the English word. "Many times of..." Again he faltered.

  "That moment, that..." She too struggled for the right words. "That tide of power that you said could launch me to immortality."

  He nodded. "Yes. You will have to ride those waters many times." He hesitated, as if fearing to confess all. "You may become very, very tired."

  "Or I may, too, become an Immortal." She straightened, once again reaching up to kiss him. This time she lingered, slipping her tongue across his lips. Then she acted on impulse, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, and she felt an answering blaze of his yang. She drew back, unable to hide her grin. "Perhaps we should get started."

  He nodded, already leading her to the bedroom. It was the same room as before, same bed, same linen. But somehow, she saw it differently. She had chosen this life and this man, which made this room a haven rather than a prison. It was a lover's bower rather than something ugly.

  He saw her looking around, and she felt him tense. "I should have made this prettier for you. Or perhaps taken you to a different place." He sighed. "But the money—"

  "No," she interrupted. "I was just thinking that it is our minds that create prisons, not our location. This is just fine, Ru Shan."

  He searched her face, no doubt looking for a lie, but she had been honest and so she let him search, knowing he would find only happiness. Eventually, she felt him relax, reaching behind him for the large artist's brush and pot. "I wish to paint you, Lydia. And when your yin flows freely, you may paint me."

  She did not understand, but she trusted he would explain, even as she stretched to see the liquid in the clay pot.

  "It is scented water." He brought the pot closer and she smelled an exotic scent with a hint of something floral. She identified ginger and lavender, jasmine and something els
e. Something dark and sensual. Something that seemed to haze her thoughts.

  She abruptly jerked away, flashing on the drugged tea she had drunk in that evil place. She would not—

  "There is no opium in this. I would not poison you with that, Lydia. I swear it."

  Slowly, she brought her heartbeat and her panic under control. "I do not want any drug. Not like that."

  "There is no drug. Only spice." He paused. "And us. Remember though, hours and hours of study such as this will cause the mind to crumble, our restraints to give way. It can feel like the haze of a drug, but it is much healthier." He paused, clearly wondering if she understood. "It is necessary to break down the restraints of our thinking minds to become immortal. We do it through a kind of exhaustion."

  "But not through a drug?"

  "Not me," he said firmly. "I do not trust such methods." She smiled, pleased. "Then tell me what I should do." Gently dipping the brush into the water, he nodded. She watched as the fine bristles spread slightly as they absorbed the perfumed water. And then she gasped as he brought it to her face.

  "I will paint you, Lydia. As a way to begin the yin flow." She giggled, embarrassed at how girlish she sounded. "The yin—"

  "Already flows," he said. "Yes, I know. But this will make it even sweeter." And so saying, he began to paint.

  From the letters of Mei Lan Cheng

  17 June, 1885

  Dearest Li Hua,

  Mr. Lost Cat is back! But he is Captain Lost Cat now, sailing his own boat.

  I knew he was due back soon. I knew it. But I didn't think... And then there he was! Right before me, offering me a gift. It wasn't really for me, he said, but for Ru Shan. An English book on boat making. I did not understand it at all, but Ru Shan adores it. He has been studying it over and over. When I ask him why, he says it is because the ghost people know things—secret things, that we do not. Perhaps it is because they are so much closer to the dead. Either way, he likes studying how they think.

  Sheng Fu is thrilled, of course. He says one must always know more about the customer. He calls Ru Shan industrious for learning these things. Sheng Fu won't sully himself with such, but he praises his son for it. I think, perhaps, he is trying his best to hurt me. He knows that Ru Shan loves working in the shop so much more than he ever did studying. And Sheng Fu must always have something to boast about.