The Way of the Tigress 1-4

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

  "Do you need to use the pot?" he asked.

  She did, but she needed him to keep speaking even more. So she shook her head, gesturing that he should continue with what he had been saying. Whatever it was. She awkwardly began straightening her robe, putting her arms back in the sleeves, tying the belt tight.

  "How is your throat this morning? Does it pain you?"

  She nodded, her eyes drawing together into a frown. His voice seemed strangely thick now, deep and coarse instead of his usual smooth tones. Could he be getting sick? Was she going to be infected by some foreign disease? Was she...

  He shifted position on the bed, straightening as he lifted onto his knees, simultaneously tossing the blanket aside. Joanna breathed in a long, fortifying breath. He was wearing pants. She didn't know if she was pleased or disappointed. All she really knew was that her burning question was resolved. He wore pants. She needn't think about it any longer.

  "Will you help me with an escape plan?" he asked, his voice taking on an edge of frustration.

  She nodded, getting hold of her thoughts. Yes. She very much wanted an end to all of this... unsettlement.

  "Good, because what I want will be difficult, but it is very important. Absolutely necessary." He paused, clearly waiting for her acknowledgment. She gave a quick nod. "We need to accept the training. Not just accept it but embrace it. Completely. Without reservation."

  She felt her eyes widen, her thoughts too chaotic to make sense. She was filled with a clutching panic.

  He must have seen it on her face. He must have understood her reaction, because he was quick to rise from the bed and move to her side, taking her arms. She pushed backward, away from him. She wasn't prepared for him to touch her. She couldn't think when his naked chest was right there next to her, his lean body gloriously displayed.

  Unfortunately, all that was behind her was the privacy screen, that beautiful bamboo construction with its lovely garden scene. Lovely, of course, if one didn't look too closely at the actions of the figures beneath the greenery. Either way, the screen was directly behind her, and she flattened herself against it in an attempt to escape.

  The screen was not heavy enough to withstand her weight. She knocked it backward and it fell, banged against the wall, and then began to slide down, its base nearly taking her feet out from under her. She tried to recover, of course. Tried to step away, not toward him, but to the side.

  But he didn't let her go. The urgency in his voice had infected his movements, and his hands now gripped her. She tried to fight him. She began to struggle in earnest. She wanted away. She wanted out. She wanted...

  But there was nowhere to go. Not with the screen underneath her feet and this man surrounding her. She was losing her balance. Something painful cut into her ankle. She couldn't find purchase. He was holding her so tightly. He was...

  Picking her up.

  She kicked at him. She hit his face as best she could. She drew her knee up hard so that it connected with that same broad chest at which she'd been staring. She heard his grunt of pain, but then his hands tightened around her. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a painful squeak that sent shooting pain straight up her throat and into her brain.

  Then suddenly she was free. Falling.

  No!

  She landed safely on the bed. She flattened her hands on the mattress, doing her best to gain her balance as she glared at him. The Manchurian stood over her, large and intimidating, while one hand rubbed the red kneeprint on his chest.

  "I do not wish to hurt you," he growled. "I have no interest in taking your virginity from you." He huffed, and his hands dropped to his hips. "Joanna Crane, listen to me! To escape we need to appear as if we have embraced this teaching. We need to truly do it with a whole heart."

  She opened her mouth to object—to scream, to say something, anything—but he held up his hand to stop her. She would have ignored it, but any sound hurt, debilitating her further. So she bit her lip, forcing herself to remain calm. Rational.

  He continued to speak. "The Tigress practice does not take one's virginity. Only your yin. Your purity will not be harmed."

  She arched a single eyebrow. She was not so naive. Naked bodies touching meant a loss of purity, period. Virgin or not, this Tigress training would taint her honor in the eyes of any potential husband.

  He continued. "Perform all the exercises. Learn the teaching. Be my partner in this training, and I will arrange our escape."

  She narrowed her eyes, showing her doubt.

  "Within two weeks."

  She shook her head.

  He grimaced. "A week. One week. Cooperate with the training for one week. That will give me enough time to arrange an escape."

  She stared at him, her thoughts finally clearing as she absorbed his words. She understood what he proposed, but did she trust that he spoke the truth? Her gut told her yes, she could trust him. But her mind was not so sure. Wasn't he the one who struck her and dragged her to this unholy place? Wasn't he the one who walked around pretending to be a monk when anyone with eyes could see that he wasn't one? Wasn't he the one...

  Who had spoken honestly and openly about their situation. He had touched her kindly, explaining that it was necessary. This Tigress Shi Po had some hold over him. And there was no love lost between those two. But did that mean Joanna could trust him to create an escape?

  She didn't know. But then, reason pointed out that it didn't matter. She had no other options except to hope for the help of the Tigress's husband. Either way, the Manchurian was correct. The appearance of cooperation might afford them greater leniency, more options.

  Slowly Joanna nodded, agreeing to his proposal. But she had one condition. She held out her hand, fingers outstretched, palm flat.

  He frowned, not understanding.

  She mimed her request, indicating his pocket, taking out the key and unlocking the door. Then she pointed again. The key. She wanted the key to the door.

  She could tell he didn't like the idea. She already knew that all men—English or Chinese—wanted control. Well, she would not cooperate unless she retained control of the door.

  "But there is still a guard," he countered. "You cannot escape with him standing there."

  She shrugged. She would deal with the guard later. The first obstacle was the locked door.

  He hesitated, so she folded her arms, glaring at him to make her position clear. She would not cooperate unless he handed over the key. And he was obviously reluctant to do so. Too bad. She held firm.

  He pulled the key out of his pocket, but did not hand it to her. Instead he held it just out of her reach. "You will cooperate fully?" he asked. "You will do what the Tigress instructs?" She hesitated, and he was quick to reassure her: "Your virginity will remain intact. Of this I am sure."

  Again she thought over her options, trying to see every angle. It seemed she didn't have much choice, and so she nodded. To all appearances she would be the best student the Tigress ever had.

  A thrill of excitement coursed through her, at once both enjoyable and disgraceful. Truly, she wasn't supposed to be intrigued by what she was about to learn! But she wouldn't be human if the prospect didn't interest her. After all, she did find this man attractive. Exactly what was she about to learn? About her own body? About his?

  She smiled, and he pressed the key into her hand. A loud banging echoed on the door.

  Joanna scrambled forward, working to unbolt it while, behind her, the Manchurian tensed and rolled onto the balls of his feet. She knew he was fully alert, poised for whatever danger waited on the other side. She slowed her movements, glancing back at him to be sure. At his nod, she pulled open the door.

  The Tigress Shi Po stood there, her expression impassive even as her keen gaze scanned the room. "It is time for lessons. You will both come now."

  20 April, 1896

  Dear Kang Zou,

  Your studies sound interesting but of course they mean nothing to me. The sun is darkened and all is i
n turmoil here. And without my songbird, I am ever melancholy. Even Mother pines without word from you. She refuses to eat and has torn her clothing.

  Father is choosing between bridegrooms now. But all are old or fat or poor, so I do not know why I must marry any of them. A woman's choices are never her own. Return home soon, brother, so you may find a young handsome choice for me.

  Your frightened sister,

  Wen Ji

  ~

  Decoded translation:

  Dear son,

  Your studies have no bearing on the family disaster. Our humiliation at the hands of the Japanese is a terrible tragedy. Especially after losing to the white barbarians. But it was inevitable, since I am forced to fight with ill equipped, uneducated, frightened troops. We will soon lose everything without your help.

  Return home immediately with news of triumph against the insurgents. Otherwise, I fear for not only our family but the entire country. More and more these invaders steal from us without punishment. And China has fewer choices than an ugly girl.

  Your impatient father,

  General Kang

  3 May, 1896

  Dearest Wen Ji,

  My heart grieves at the choice Father faces. And I am aware of the trials that our mother faces daily, though I believe she is stronger than she appears. But all is not lost. The scrolls of Lao Tzu speak of the wisdom of non-action. Of the end of struggle. Can you not look for peace in times of turmoil? Truly, the wisdom of Abbot Tseng surpasses ordinary understanding.

  Ever hopeful,

  Kang Zou

  ~

  Decoded translation as understood by General Kang:

  Dearest Father,

  I have heard of the dangers facing China. News has reached us even here in the mountains. I also remember my responsibilities to both family and country, but know you will find a way through your difficulties soon. Remember that the great teacher Lao Tzu counsels non-action. Abbot Tseng has taught us that there is great wisdom in the end of struggle.

  Your bewitched son,

  Zou Tun

  All ideas and values are established by people, and value judgments come through comparisons. But the way we look at things must constantly change, and thus our value judgments must constantly change. So when dealing with beautiful and ugly, being and nothing, difficult and easy, long and short, high and low, front and back, etc., take them lightly and don't let them cause you trouble.

  —Lao Tzu

  Chapter 7

  Joanna kept her eyes open as the two "servants" led her from the bedroom through the Tigress's large compound. It was only the two guards, but both were very large and apparently intent on following orders.

  At least they had allowed Joanna time to dress in loose-fitting pants and a utilitarian shirt before escorting her to her lessons. Otherwise she would be walking through this rather beautiful place dressed in just a robe.

  Having seen only her own room and the hallway outside, she hadn't realized how very large the compound was. What she saw now was a house in the front, and beyond that, presumably, the street. That would make the building to her right the main building, where guests and others visited. But behind that was a long, rectangular garden surrounded by five other buildings—two on each side and one on the end. That made for six buildings in total, all dominated by the Tigress Shi Po.

  How had this powerful woman lived in Shanghai and Joanna never heard of her? The question was ridiculous, of course. Joanna and all other foreigners might make China their home, but they certainly didn't interact with the natives. Most of her fellow Caucasians barely even noticed the Chinese who drew their baths, cooked their food, and even managed their homes. The Asians were simply servants, and China was a vast playland of opportunity where anyone could make a fortune.

  A great scholar or a rich empress could live right outside the foreign territories and not one of Joanna's friends would know about it.

  The thought humbled and shamed her. How long had she lived in China without even noticing the vast country of people who surrounded her? And worse, she was counted as an expert on the Chinese by most everyone she met. After all, she could read and write in Chinese, had been raised for nearly a decade by a Chinese nanny. She listened to the servants' gossip whenever she could. What more could there possibly be to know?

  A great deal, obviously, and so Joanna kept her eyes and ears open as their sandaled feet stepped down beautiful multicolored pathways that meandered through a large garden. To her right she caught a glimpse of large, shimmering goldfish in a deep pond. To her left a songbird fluffed its feathers in a cage. But nowhere did she see any sign of the Tigress's husband, the kind man—Kui Yu was his name, she'd been told—who had offered to help her leave should she so wish this morning.

  Well, she did wish. But she could hardly say so with two guards around her, the Manchurian behind her whom she'd just promised to obey, and the Tigress Shi Po waiting somewhere to "begin her lessons."

  So she followed behind the guards, keeping her eyes and ears open while her heart fluttered in her chest. Exactly what kind of lessons were in store?

  She glanced beside her. She didn't even know his name, but somehow the faux monk had become her most trusted ally. And right now he appeared calm, arrogant, and completely in control. It was only when he caught her eye that she saw a flash of uncertainty.

  He quickly masked his nervousness with a soft smile. He was trying to be reassuring, which was a silly gesture. The guards were huge men armed with knives. Even with his impressive fighting skills, they were in danger. Especially since more guards stood at the opposite side of the garden.

  Still, she was calmed by his smile, and she did her best to return his gesture with equal bravado. She even managed to hold the expression until they stepped into a ballroom.

  In truth, the room wasn't a ballroom; it was simply that so many people were crowded inside that she thought immediately of a party. Especially as the room was devoid of furniture beyond a couple of plain chairs pressed against the side wall. The floor was wood, polished smooth. The walls had simple banners, but she had no time to decipher their words. Instead she spent her time looking into the faces of the dozen or so beautiful women clustered in a tiny knot at the center of the room.

  They were talking excitedly, their Chinese words making the room sound more like a marketplace than a ballroom. But when Joanna entered, they all fell silent, turning in one body to inspect her. Or perhaps, Joanna realized, it was not to look at her as much as her man.

  She stiffened at the thought. He was not her man, and yet she felt ridiculously possessive of him—though he had taken her voice from her. She even refused to be separated from him as she met the curious gazes of each and every woman in the room.

  They were of varying ages, these Tigress students—for that was what Joanna assumed they were. The youngest was perhaps barely into her teens, but the oldest seemed well into her forties. Their hair was bound simply with a cord, leaving the long, straight locks to trail beautifully down their backs. Each woman—even the oldest—had golden, youthful skin that shone almost as bright as their dark eyes. Some wore makeup; some did not. Some had rich clothing; some wore threadbare attire. Some had their feet bound, as was the Chinese custom; others did not.

  All noticed her possessive attitude and their reactions ranged from stunned surprise to angry disdain.

  Joanna understood. She had survived too long in Shanghai society not to recognize the symptoms. She was looked upon as a barbarian, a beggar, and a fool. She had no right to a Chinese man, much less this one, though she wondered if any there recognized her companion's true identity.

  In any event, there was little time for further assessment. The Tigress Shi Po entered the room, walking slowly on her bound feet. She wore the same loose-fitting clothing as everyone else, only on her it appeared stately. Beautiful. Inspiring.

  The other ladies immediately dropped to their knees, kowtowing before her. Joanna, of course, did nothing. She was not Chi
nese and had no interest in banging her head upon the floor for her jailer. So she stood, as did the Mandarin, while the guards faded back toward the door.

  The Tigress surveyed the women as they straightened, arranging themselves in rough lines but remaining with their eyes lowered, their heads bowed, out of respect for their instructor. She did not move until all was situated; then she flowed smoothly forward, coming to stand before Joanna. Her eyes were cool, her chin lifted. She inspected Joanna, and though Joanna wanted nothing from this woman, she felt her heart begin to pound inside her chest. She was acutely aware of her disorderly braid, her ill-fitting clothing, and every other fault in her body and soul.

  Indeed, it took an act of will to stand straight and tall, looking the Tigress in the eye, but Joanna accomplished it. She used her pride. The Chinese thought the whites were barbarians. Let them see an American woman who could match them eye-to-eye.

  As if understanding the unspoken challenge, Shi Po smiled. A slight tilt appeared on her lips, a spark of amusement in her eyes.

  "Very well," she said in a melodic voice that nevertheless commanded everyone's attention. "We will see today if a ghost barbarian can learn." She pointed to a place in the last line. "You will stand there. Watch. Learn. Do, if you can."

  Her challenge rang out in the room, and Joanna lifted her chin, determined to meet whatever task was set her. At one time she might have folded her arms and refused to cooperate, but she had just promised the monk that she would do what she could to appear docile. So she took her spot.

  Meanwhile, Shi Po moved on to stand before the monk. "Exercise of the body trains the mind. As a Shaolin, you understand this, yes?"

  He nodded.

  "Then you may perform your tasks over there." She gestured to the side of the room, an area empty of all except two more servants who stood framing a paper window. Then she glided back to the lines of women.