The Way of the Tigress 1-4

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

  She nodded. "For a moment. It felt..." She opened herself to it, feeling the wonder fill her soul. "Yes, felt like this."

  Heaven began to change. Directly before them the darkness grew lighter. It parted, and a being of impossible beauty stood before them. She was an angel. Joanna knew it with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

  And then that glorious creature spoke.

  "Welcome, Joanna. Welcome, Zou Tun. We have been waiting for you, and are so pleased you could come."

  "We are dead, then." Zou Tun's horrible words did not sound frightened. Perhaps he was relieved. Perhaps he was finally at peace.

  The angel laughed, a beautiful and joyous sound that made the heavens shimmer and vibrate. "No, Zou Tun. When you die, you will go to a much grander place than this. You will go to Heaven." She gestured to the side, and the darkness faded long enough for Joanna to glimpse something so much more than here. And yet, how could anything be better than this?

  "This is not Heaven?" she asked.

  "This is merely the first step—the Antechamber. You must have total commitment before you can attain Heaven. But now you are here, very much alive and very much in need."

  Joanna wanted to step forward. She wanted to ask so many things. But she was held transfixed—not by fear, but by awe. So the angel came to her; she seemed to glide forward until they both were bathed in her radiance.

  "We wish you to remember," the angel said.

  "Remember what?" Both Joanna and Zou Tun spoke, both striving to please.

  "Who you really are."

  And with that, the angel touched them both. A single finger pressed into each of their chests, right above their hearts.

  Joanna didn't know what she expected—a memory, perhaps, buried in her mind. A message disregarded. Something small but lost.

  She was right. And she was wrong. This was not something small. It was big. Huge. And so fundamental that she could not believe she had forgotten. But she had. What she had forgotten was there, deep within her, but buried beneath a life's debris. And it was so simple, she couldn't believe she had forgotten it.

  Love.

  It was one word. But it was not just that she was loved—by God, by Zou Tun, by her father and friends. No, it was more than that.

  She was a being of love.

  All the tiny pieces of herself—her body, her soul, her heart and mind—all of those things were made up of love. That was the core of who she was; that was at the center of everything. She was a creature of love—created by love to embody love, and to express love in all its myriad forms.

  She had merely forgotten.

  As had everyone else. Because they, too—Zou Tun, her father, every soul on the planet—came from the same source. They all had the same center of love.

  They all had merely forgotten.

  She heard Zou Tun exclaim, a mirror of her own astonishment. In front of them, the angel smiled in such a way as to make all of Heaven sing.

  "How—"

  "We—"

  Zou Tun and Joanna stammered, their minds reeling. Questions formed, only to be cut off, to surrender to the simple truth: They were creatures of love.

  "We are so pleased that you remember," the angel said. Then she kissed them both, a warm blessing on their foreheads.

  And then it was over.

  * * *

  Joanna woke with a start, her body languidly at rest against Zou Tun's thigh. She felt him wake at the same instant, lifting up with a gasp.

  They looked at each other. In his eyes she saw the echo of her awe, her confusion. And the memory. That beautiful memory was still shining through his entire body.

  "Was it a dream?" she whispered.

  He shook his head. "That was no dream. Was it?"

  "No. It wasn't a dream," she agreed.

  They moved as one, straightening, reorienting. She settled into his arms almost at the moment he opened them. She took comfort in the steady beat of his heart, but her mind remained in turmoil.

  "It was real," she said.

  He nodded, his arms tightening around her. He didn't speak. And so they remained while dawn lightened the sky.

  "Lao Tzu didn't say anything about love."

  Joanna lifted her head so she could look at Zou Tun's face.

  "Lao Tzu," he continued, "the immortal who founded Taoism—he spoke about the myriad things. That the myriad things came from nothing." He looked at Joanna, and she could see anguish in his eyes. "He didn't say the myriad things are made of love. He didn't say we are beings of love."

  "Maybe he didn't know."

  It was a simple thought, and an obvious one. But it made Zou Tun shake, his body trembling with his confusion. "I cannot know more than Lao Tzu. I... He..."

  "He is the founder of Taoism. And do you still feel his teachings are true?"

  Zou Tun nodded. "Of course. Even more so. But—"

  "But he didn't speak of love. And he didn't practice what the Tigresses teach, did he?" She shifted, sitting up to face him more fully. "We build upon what our forefathers knew. We learn more based on what they understood. Why can't we have discovered something that even the great Lao Tzu didn't know?"

  His eyes misted as they looked at her. "Because we didn't discover it. We remembered it."

  He wasn't making any sense. And yet he did make sense. Like her, he was reeling from the enormity of what they had just learned. "It is only our minds that are confused. Our hearts remember." She was speaking aloud. To herself. To him.

  He responded, "My heart is so full. I cannot say it any other way." He looked down at her. "I love you."

  Her chest squeezed tight. "I love you, too." She said the words. Felt the emotion. Knew that what she experienced was real. But his words didn't mean what she wanted them to. His love was the overwhelming love they both felt. For all things. At the moment she loved the trees and the birds and the squirrels as well.

  What she felt for Zou Tun was different. It was more, and it was unique for him.

  His love was not. She could see it in his eyes, in the abstract way he looked through her. He was not in love with her. He simply loved all.

  And that thought cut a deep hole in her heart.

  "What?" he asked. "Why do you look sad?"

  She swallowed her tears, blinking as if coming out of a daze. "It is nothing," she lied. And with those words so much of her experience, of her memories, of their experience, faded. She felt it go, mourned its loss, and even knew the cause. Lies only buried truth.

  She pulled away from Zou Tun, feeling ashamed of herself, saddened by her loss, and most of all confused and disoriented. She so wanted to return to Heaven. She wanted to feel all that love again. She wanted to be with the angels.

  And yet she knew now that she didn't deserve such knowledge. Not when she abandoned it so easily.

  "I want to go back there," he said. "I want to try again. Right now."

  She nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. It was easy to agree, for she could hear in his voice that they could not attempt it right away. He continued, confirming her thoughts.

  "But it is almost morning. I cannot remain here."

  "What are you going to do?"

  He took a deep breath. "I cannot be a general. I cannot join the military. Not now. Not after..."

  "Not after remembering." No creature of love could lead men to kill other men. The very thought was repulsive.

  "I will talk to the emperor. He must understand. He must remember."

  She straightened, turning to look at him, to see if she guessed correctly. "You're going to tell him what happened? Who we are?" She shook her head, struggling with the words. "I mean... who we all are?"

  He nodded. "Manchurian or Han, Chinese or barbarian, we are all the same. All the myriad things are the same." He looked down at her, his eyes still bright with the kiss of Heaven. She admired him for that. Admired and envied him for keeping what she had so casually thrown away. "We are filled with love."

  But when he said
it, she remembered. She felt truth again. "Yes," she whispered. "We are."

  He looked at her, his eyes lingering long upon her face. She thought he would kiss her, but he made no move to do so. He simply looked at her, his entire being glowing with the force of his love.

  She could not stop the tears that began to flow from her eyes. Was it wrong for her to want his attention, his wonderful love to be a little stronger for her? For him to love her a little better, more personally, more uniquely? Was it wrong for her to wish for that?

  "Joanna, why are you crying?"

  She bit her lip, unable to lie again and yet unwilling to diminish his joy. He still held Heaven's love; he still embodied it as she might never again. She would do nothing to take that from him.

  She pressed her lips to his, pouring all of her needs and hopes and most especially the last of her heavenly love into him. He took it, returning it a thousandfold. But when she would have clung to him, when she would have pushed for deeper contact, he pulled away.

  "I must leave, Joanna. I will return as soon as I can."

  She nodded, forcing her mind back to earth, back to the mundane issues of travel and money and soldiers.

  "I know just what to do," she said, and she pushed away from him. It took all her strength to leave him. Indeed, her knees buckled as she stepped onto the floor. Fortunately she was able to catch herself on the bed. And if she had missed, his arm was there as well, nearly touching her, nearly saving her.

  She drew away.

  "Leave the details to me," she said. She didn't look at him. And with a coldness that hadn't been inside her twenty minutes before, she straightened and walked away.

  * * *

  Zou Tun shook his head, his mind reeling. Joanna was an amazing woman. With no more time than it had taken for him to dress and wash, she had two horses saddled, and money and provisions pulled together. The servant who was supposed to tell him of his father's movements had reported to Joanna instead, and now Joanna was writing a letter to her father, her beautiful face pulled into a tight, blank expression.

  He missed her smile. Already he missed her touch, her caress, and her generosity of spirit. After all he had done to her, she still could look at him with love. True love. For him.

  Even his throat pain had ended. Because she loved him.

  That thought overwhelmed him. Even his Manchurian arrogance was humbled by her spirit. But that did not mean he could take her with him, live with her in harmony and bliss. Yet he didn't want to start that argument just yet. He wanted his leave-taking to be sweeter than that. Especially as his soul was already crying out at the thought of leaving her behind.

  "What do you write to your father?"

  She looked up, and for a moment he caught a flash of pain in her eyes. Then she looked down at her letter, hiding her eyes from him as she folded the parchment.

  "I told him that I have made my choice." She looked up at him, her expression steely, her voice flat. "I am going with you, Zou Tun."

  He stepped forward, wanting to take her into his arms, but she was too far away. "You cannot. If my father catches you, he will kill you." The very words froze his throat.

  "What will he do to you?"

  Zou Tun shrugged, trying to appear casual. "He is my father."

  "And what will your father do to you when he catches you?"

  "He will not kill me."

  She straightened, coming out from behind her desk. "Tell me it all, Zou Tun. Do not lie to me. It..." She bit her lip. "It will damage you."

  He frowned, wanting to know what she meant, but she shook her head. "What will he do to you?"

  Zou Tun sighed, knowing she would not stop until he explained everything.

  "My father has been positioning me to become the new emperor. He has spent his life with that single goal."

  She leaned back, obviously stunned. "You are so close to the throne?"

  He nodded. "I am the most logical choice if Emperor Guang Xu dies without an heir."

  She blinked, her eyes widening with awe. "You're the 'crown prince'."

  He simply shrugged. He didn't understand her English words.

  "Then why were you wandering around the country unprotected? Why would he send you to that temple in the first place?"

  Zou Tun sighed. "Do you know what it is to live under lock and key? To constantly suspect poison in your food, assassins at your door? I could not stand it anymore. And so I convinced my father to let me go."

  "To root out the revolutionaries at the temple," she said. "But also to escape the threats on your life." She nodded.

  "Yes, there were threats everywhere. Every morning I woke to fear, ate my meals and made plans rooted in terror, and went to bed in fear. I couldn't stand it anymore."

  "Is that the life of an emperor in China?"

  He shook his head. "That is the life of the emperor's possible heir." He sighed. "The emperor's life is much, much worse."

  "And you hate it."

  He shook his head. "It is much worse than just hate, Joanna. I don't understand it." He began to pace, his words like bandages finally lifted off a festering wound. "My father sees threats where I see people. My father sees nations and strategies, and I see only people. My father moves armies and conquers enemies; I see only people needing to be helped."

  He folded his arms, wishing he could contain his incompetence, to hide it from her. But he wanted to explain this. He wanted to tell her. And so he sat down, letting his words flow in an unbroken stream.

  "I understand that a single ambassador represents a nation. It has been explained to me many times. And yet he is one man. How can one man be so important? How can he choose the course of a nation? How can that be right? How can any one man see what should be done for the good of all?"

  She tilted her head, looking confused. "But that is the duty of an ambassador. Or a president. Or an emperor."

  He nodded. "Yes. That is true. But I would rule as Lao Tzu counsels. By non-action. By living a moral life and expecting others to follow my example. People should choose their own way."

  She frowned, and he could see that she was beginning to understand him. "And if they didn't choose wisely?"

  He sighed. "I could not kill the men who attacked you, seeking to rape you until you died." He sighed. "How could I kill a man for simply believing differently than I do, for acting according to his desires and conscience?"

  "What if those actions are wrong?"

  He stared at her, wishing he could make her understand. "I cannot kill, Joanna. I just can't. I will not take responsibility for choosing the death of another." He saw her eyes widen and knew she was beginning to understand his weakness. So he finished, telling her all. "No ruler of China could ever guide the country with such a flaw. Certainly not now, not with foreign nations seeking to carve us into pieces."

  "It is not a flaw!" she argued. "It is honorable and noble and right."

  He sighed. "It is weakness in a ruler of a threatened empire."

  She nodded, stepping forward to touch him. She gave a simple press of her hand on his arm, but he felt it nonetheless like a soothing balm across his soul's wounds. And he was everlastingly grateful.

  "What will your father do if he catches you?" she asked again. "What does he wish to do?"

  Zou Tun looked down at her hand, her beautiful white hand against his darker, yellower skin. "He will kill the emperor, put me on the throne, then systematically kill all the foreigners in China."

  She gasped. "All that murder! And for what? China doesn't have the defenses. My people's gunboats will decimate your country. We have better guns and soldiers. We will send armies to cut your country into pieces, and there will be nothing left."

  He could not deny it. "My father considers that a nobler end—for himself and for China." Then he gripped her hand. "And I would not be able to stop him. He would lock me away and rule in my name. Even if I die, he could keep it so no one would know. He could continue to rule in my stead, pretending that I am s
till alive."

  "That's not possible," she said, but she knew the truth as well as he.

  "It is possible. And it has been done before in China."

  She squeezed his hands. "And so you ran."

  He nodded. "Without me he cannot assume power. He needs me first, at the beginning, while he consolidates his power."

  Joanna kissed him, her lips tender. But then she drew away. "Why has he not already assumed power? Why has he not put himself in position to—?"

  Zou Tun sighed. "The emperor does not like him. And neither does the dowager empress."

  "But they like you?"

  He nodded. "Yes. For they do not know the extent of my father's ruthlessness. They do not believe that he would use me to gain power, kill them, then lock me away."

  She straightened, a look of resolve on her face. "Then we must tell them."

  He immobilized her by gripping her hand. "You cannot come, Joanna. I cannot risk you."

  "You cannot stop me." She leaned forward. "Think, Zou Tun. I have money, horses, connections throughout Shanghai... I can get us out into the countryside."

  "And then you will—"

  "And then I will come with you to Peking, even if I follow alone. Zou Tun, you will not abandon me here."

  He straightened, appalled by her suggestion. "There is no abandonment—"

  "You are afraid to be seen with a white woman."

  "Of course not!"

  "You think I am a liability, a detriment to you and your task."

  He shook his head. "No, that is—"

  She reached out, stroking his cheek. "I am your partner, remember? I will stay with you."

  She left no room for argument, and even though he knew it was wrong, he felt himself weakening against her. Her life was at risk as long as they were together. And yet she gave him such strength. Every time she looked at him, he remembered what they had shared. He remembered his time in Heaven and the message he had received.

  With her by his side, he had no fear that he would be tempted away by the lure of power. And he had no fear that he would forget he was a creature of love, meant to share that message with all who would listen.

  So, even though he knew it was wrong, he decided to agree. He would allow her to remain at his side despite the dangers. It was her right to choose. And he did not wish to be alone. Nor did he wish to forget.