She turned to the Manchurian by her side, moving with infinite care so as not to disturb the tapestry or catch the attention of the Tigress beside her. The monk saw her shift immediately, his gaze meeting hers in the tight space. He knew what she was asking. Could this story be true? Could a loyal servant be blinded and mutilated just because a powerful guest visited?
He didn't answer with words, but his eyes slid away and down, his sadness as evident as his shame. Yes, his silent motion said, yes, the story is likely true.
Joanna's great anger returned. She swelled with the righteous fury of an oppressed people. She felt as she had not since coming to this strange place. Her hands clenched with fervor. She would help these poor people. As the Americans had thrown off the British, so would she help the Chinese throw off their monarchical oppressors.
But how? How would she do this with no voice and no way to escape this strange compound? And once she escaped, how would she join the great revolutionary movement? Her last attempt was what had landed her here. What could she do, a white woman in this land of both great beauty and great evil?
She had no answers, and her mind continued to churn, her eyes following Little Pearl and the mutilated servant. Little Pearl had finished shaving the man's head and face. She had washed his sores and fed him while he told his story. And now, as his words dwindled to silence, Joanna's rage quieted as well. Her eyes opened to the peace that seemed to surround the man even as Little Pearl moved lower down his body.
"I will shave you here now," she said softly. "It is the only way to remove the vermin."
"No!" The man shrank back, trying to pull himself away. "I am too ugly for your eyes."
"I am a nurse," Little Pearl lied. "I do this to help you. Please," she urged when he still tried to withdraw. "Allow me to care for you or I will be in great trouble with my mistress."
Only the threat of her suffering calmed him. Slowly he allowed her to ease his arms away and gently strip him of his breechcloth. It was stiff, yellow, and stuck painfully to his skin in places, but Little Pearl did not hesitate. Nor did she rush. She eased the dirty cloth away before discarding it, then began to wash and shave the area.
Joanna watched closely, her attention fixed not on the man but on Little Pearl. She could not believe that such a beautiful young girl would act so subservient to a dirty beggar. Even in the United States, where all men were created equal and Christian generosity was a virtue, Joanna did not think she could find a girl of Little Pearl's age and beauty who would so happily and gracefully perform such tasks. And yet there was only purity in her movements and gentleness in her touch.
It was humbling to watch, especially knowing that Joanna would herself not be so giving.
And then Little Pearl began her other ministrations.
Joanna had seen it coming. As Little Pearl moved and cleansed him, the man's dragon had grown larger and fuller. It was smaller than she expected, certainly smaller than her monk's. But it was there, poking its head out of its tunnel, its mushroom face just as pictured on the scroll.
Joanna couldn't tell when exactly Little Pearl changed the manner in which she handled it. Her ministrations always had a kind of caress, but bit by bit her hands fondled more than cleansed, stroked more than shaved. And the blind man closed his eyes, a sigh of blissful contentment upon his face.
"Does this bother you?"
It took a moment for Joanna to realize who spoke. She'd been so absorbed in what was going on that when the monk whispered in her ear, she was confused. But then he cupped her elbow and continued.
"If this is offensive, I will try to remove you. I swore that you would not be harmed."
She frowned, wondering what exactly he meant. She could not look at him. Shi Po was too close, and he was taking great pains to make his words barely audible.
"Does this frighten you?" he pressed.
She shook her head. No, the sight did not frighten her. No, she did not wish them to risk life and limb in attempting an escape at this moment. And no, she was not harmed in the least by watching Little Pearl's act of kindness.
Joanna was humbled and awed.
She bowed her head, surreptitiously taking the monk's hand. She felt the calluses and the warmth that were part of him, and she held on tight, keeping him from making any ill-advised moves. Then she watched as Little Pearl opened her ruby lips and mouthed the beggar's dragon.
There had been pictures of this act in Shi Po's scrolls. Pictures and labels and explanations. But those were nothing compared to watching a beautiful woman in the act.
It took little time. No doubt the man had not had such tender care in many years, if ever. And he had been well stimulated by the cleaning process. Still, Joanna was fascinated. His face looked as if he were in pain. His eyes scrunched shut and his breath came in gasps. And when the beggar's breath suddenly stopped and his body went rigid, Joanna thought for a moment that he had died.
But he hadn't. His dragon spewed forth its milky cloud, and Little Pearl consumed every drop. In this way, Joanna knew, the Tigress took in the Dragon's yang, making herself stronger while it weakened the man. Or so Shi Po taught.
But looking at the beggar, Joanna didn't see him as weakened. Only happy. Blissfully happy, with closed eyes. Moments later his breath settled into the deep pattern of a man asleep.
Another person whispered into Joanna's ear. It was Shi Po, her soft voice still managing to hold danger. "Little Pearl will complete her service by finding this man's brother. In such ways, a Tigress honors the yang that sustains her."
Joanna nodded, beginning to understand the beauty of their philosophy. She remained silent as the others began filing out of their hiding places, bowing respectfully to Little Pearl as they passed. The monk and Joanna also bowed before joining the rest of the women outside in the courtyard.
Shi Po followed, walking with the stately arrogance of any queen, and Joanna spared a moment to wonder if she had also ever served as Little Pearl did, with a maimed beggar or other man of low status. She couldn't imagine it, and yet the tenets of their religions clearly called for such.
But she wasn't given much time to contemplate as Shi Po gestured to all the women. "You understand your tasks," she said.
They nodded, bowing deeply to her. Then they scattered, and soon only the Tigress, Joanna, and the monk remained in the courtyard. And the guards, of course. But they were at a distance, out of earshot.
The Tigress turned to Joanna, her eyes narrowed in clear challenge. "You have seen what you need to learn. Will you accept your teaching? Speak now with a clear heart, for I can spare no more time for a barbarian whose presence is not her own choice." And with that she glared not at Joanna but the Manchurian.
It took a long moment for the information to sink in. But then Joanna realized exactly what had been said: a barbarian whose presence is not her own choice. Shi Po was acknowledging that Joanna was a prisoner. But not the Tigress's prisoner. The monk's.
A wave of hot rage surged through her. She spun on her heel, disbelief warring with the obvious truth. He had made her believe they were both prisoners, that the Tigress held them captive. But now, looking at the guilty flush to his features, she knew that wasn't true. She had been held by his command. And the Tigress's hateful attitude toward her had been no more than the all-too-common Chinese disdain for a barbarian who had invaded her home, required her services, and challenged her authority at every turn.
And all because the monk demanded it.
Joanna tasted anger, bitter and harsh in her bruised throat. A throat he had damaged. But before she could give expression to her fury, he took her hands, his voice low and intense.
"I have not lied to you," he said. "I am a prisoner here. And because I am here, you are as well."
She tried to shake off his grip, but he held her too firmly. A moment later he released her, his hands falling to his sides.
"I cannot allow you to leave and perhaps speak of my presence. I cannot risk that," he said. He
shifted his gaze back to the Tigress. "Unless, of course, you will release both of us."
Shi Po shook her head. "You are here to learn, monk."
"I have been here for two days, in the same room as a white barbarian. Even your students have seen this. That is ample evidence to damn me, Tigress. You have your blackmail material. Why will you not release me?"
Joanna frowned, desperately trying to follow both his words and the conversation's undercurrents, even as the Tigress waved her guards away.
"You have great skill, monk. You have demonstrated control, power, and vast knowledge." She stepped forward, her entire body a challenge. "My poor servants would be no match for you."
Joanna glanced at the retreating guards, seeing their awkward gait, their lack of power and control. She didn't need the Tigress's next words to realize the truth.
"You can escape at any time."
The monk did not answer. His gaze dropped. And then the Tigress asked the question that was pounding in Joanna's brain.
"Why? Why would a Qin Mandarin stay in the home of a Tigress? Why would he help purify a white barbarian despite the cost to his reputation and his life? Why would he hide here, in my home?"
As if against his will, the monk's gaze slid to Joanna. He looked at her, and she saw anguish in his eyes, a pain and a hunger that she could not comprehend.
Beside her, the Tigress echoed her confusion. "You want this woman. Why?" When he did not answer, Shi Po shook her head. "No, if you wanted her, you would have taken her. She has been in your room for two nights. You are not here because of her." Her eyes narrowed. "And you are not here because of me." She reached out, using one long finger to touch his chin, anchoring his gaze. "Why are you here, monk? What do you seek?"
If Joanna had seen anguish in his eyes before, there was nothing in them now. Nothing but an emptiness, carefully hidden behind a placid exterior. The Tigress exhaled in disgust.
"A fleeing man sees nothing but the tiger behind him," she said.
"Then it is fortunate that I have a Tigress to distract him," he countered.
Shi Po pushed him away, her disgust clear. He didn't move far. Indeed, a block of granite could not have appeared more solid. And so the Tigress shifted her attention to Joanna.
"What is your decision, barbarian? Do you want to stay and learn? The exit is there." She gestured to a shadowed opening in the gate at the back of the courtyard. It was made of dark stone and shrouded by trees and the house. But it was undeniably an exit, and no guard blocked her path.
She turned to go to it. She was sick to death of Chinese strangeness. Days ago her only thought had been to help the oppressed poor throw off the yoke of a corrupt dynasty. She had found revolutionaries, only to be assaulted by them. Then she had been rescued by one of the Qin leaders, only to have her voice stolen before being herself trapped in the home of a religious cult leader. Words like blackmail and purify had been used with regard to her, and she understood none of it. She wanted none of it.
And so she would leave. She even took a step toward the door. But she did not go farther. She stopped, an image holding her in place, mesmerizing her. She saw Little Pearl ministering to the maimed beggar. The two were surrounded by candlelight, and Joanna had watched as a filthy, wretched man became clean, then drifted off onto a quiet, peaceful sleep. But most of all, she felt the peace that surrounded the two. A peace of mind, a peace of purpose, and a peace that she longed to experience herself.
Was this what the monk had called her center? If so, then it seemed well worth pursuing. It was worth risking everything to find.
She didn't even realize she was speaking until she heard—and felt—the rawness of her voice. "I want to learn," she said.
The pain of speaking nearly undid her. It seared through her body, and yet that felt right somehow. It was a cleansing of herself, a dedication of purpose that should come with pain. Because she already knew this would change her entire life. And so she pushed even further, speaking again with a conscious will, even knowing the agony she would cause herself.
"I must... write Father." Her father was likely beside himself with worry—he and most of the foreign consulates with him, for he would rouse them all to find her.
But Shi Po shook her head. "You cannot contact anyone from your old life. Not until your training is over. I cannot have outraged barbarians storming my door."
Joanna shook her head, already anticipating the problem. "Deliver note. In secret. He will not hunt you."
The Tigress reached out, drawing Joanna around so that they faced each other. "How can you be sure?"
It was a good question, but Joanna did not have the voice to explain. Instead she swallowed, forcing herself to say one last thing. "I trust you. You must trust me."
The Tigress waited a moment, her eyes narrowed to the point that she truly resembled a stalking beast. But before she could speak, her husband appeared.
"I will see that the message is delivered," he said.
Both Shi Po and Joanna jumped, surprised. But whereas the Tigress seemed to grow angry, Joanna bowed her head in acknowledgment and thanks. The husband—Kui Yu—smiled warmly; then his attention shifted to the monk, who stood like stone beside her.
"What of you, Mandarin? What of this evil you bring to my house, and how will you make amends?"
There was a silence, a squaring off of these two men, and the women faded into insignificance. But not for long. Shi Po straightened, moving to take her husband's side so that they faced the Mandarin together. The monk cut his gaze to Joanna—a flicker only, but in it she saw a quiet plea. Would she take his side against them?
She nearly laughed at the thought. He had lied to her, betrayed her, even taken her voice away. And yet the hunger in his eyes weakened her. She saw pain and wished to soothe it.
But not enough to overcome his betrayal. She straightened, stepping backward away from this struggle she did not comprehend.
The monk turned back to the Tigress and her husband. When he spoke it was in a low tone appropriate to a supplicant. "I will earnestly learn what you have to teach, great Tigress. And then, when I have mastered what I can, I will take my knowledge to the dowager empress on your behalf. Though I believe she has already heard of your work." He swallowed. "Isn't that what you wanted from the very beginning?"
Kui Yu did not answer. Instead he tilted his head to his wife, his expression unreadable. "Is this acceptable repayment, Tigress?"
Everyone waited while Shi Po considered. She drew out the pause, as if there was much to weigh. And perhaps there was. Further exposing her cult religion to the leader of her country could be no small thing. In fact, it was likely a very dangerous move—but also one that could bring her enormous imperial favor—and the fortune that came with it.
In the end, Shi Po inclined her head. "I accept you as my true student, Mandarin. And the white barbarian as well. Go and practice what you have learned today." Then she graciously accepted her husband's arm and began to walk away.
It was only after she had taken a step that Joanna realized what had just been said—that she and the monk were to practice. Together.
Rushing forward, Joanna scrambled to a place in front of Shi Po, stopping her and her husband in the middle of the path. She had no voice to speak, but she bowed deeply before them and hoped the reason for her agitation was clear.
The Tigress frowned. "There is a problem, barbarian?"
Joanna straightened, but only halfway. She kept her head lowered respectfully, even as she cast a significant glance at the Mandarin.
"You do not wish to practice with the monk?"
Joanna nodded, relieved to have gotten her message through.
"He has betrayed you, imprisoned you, and stolen your voice," Shi Po replied. "And yet such evil deeds have turned out most fortunately for you. You would not be my pupil without his efforts."
Joanna froze, her relief fading. Shi Po stepped closer, using her favorite method of gaining someone's attention. She ext
ended a single, sharp-nailed finger and poked it underneath Joanna's chin. By exerting the slightest pressure, she forced Joanna to straighten and look her in the eye.
"Did you not see how Little Pearl served today? How she honored the yang giver?"
Joanna nodded, her belly tight with anxiety.
"A Tigress possesses all things save one: a man's yang. For it to be of use, that must be given willingly and with a pureness of intention. The monk has much to atone for with you, so he will give of himself completely. And you, barbarian, must learn to forgive. In that way you will honor his yang gift." Shi Po leaned in, her eyes cold as she pressed her point. "And in serving him, you will learn to forgive."
The Tigress straightened, slowly adjusting so that she seemed to bow to her husband, her posture subservient. In return, he smiled, his eyes shining with a love that momentarily stunned Joanna.
"Address yourself to service, barbarian," Shi Po said. "For in serving he who has wronged you, you may gain all." And with that final statement, the Tigress and her husband walked away.
17 May, 1896
Dearest Kang Zou,
Your Abbot Tseng sounds like a wise man. Could he come to my wedding? Shall I send a carriage for you both? The family is most anxious to meet him.
Your happy sister,
Wen Ji
~
Decoded translation:
Dearest son,
Is Abbot Tseng the leader of the insurgents? Is that why you mentioned him in your letter? Shall I send soldiers now to kill him and the other rebels? I will tell the emperor of your report.
Your pleased father,
General Kang
30 May, 1896
Dearest sister,
Send no carriage! Do not tell the family that he is coming. There is disease in the monastery, and we are all too sick to travel. Fortunately the abbot is a wise man and a great teacher. He is showing me the ways of the Shaolin. I am growing stronger with every moment in his presence. I am sure my offerings and prayers are stronger now. They will help you more.
Your earnest brother,
The Way of the Tigress 1-4 Page 44
