In the meantime, Joanna and Zou Tun had to wait out the angry, sword-wielding eunuch before them.
Fortunately, the single guard was little threat. Zou Tun's fighting skills could easily defeat the man. So they waited in stillness, praying the empress would hear.
And in time she did. Cixi entered slowly, in a stately fashion, preceded by two other guards. She spoke to Zou Tun, discounting Joanna completely. But Joanna did not wait; she spoke in the only Chinese she knew, trusting that one of those guards would translate.
"Great Empress, I apologize for my loudness, but I meant no disrespect. I merely sought to inform you of this man's status. His humility forbade him to tell you of his greatness, but I am here to relate what even a white barbarian has seen. Kang Zou Tun is an immortal. He has walked with me in the heavenly realm."
Beside her she felt Zou Tun stiffen. They both knew that she had just made an extraordinary claim. That, in truth, they had not made it all the way into Heaven. They had simply walked in the Antechamber. They might never pass beyond that gate. But Joanna could not allow doubt to creep into her voice or thoughts. She pressed on, preventing Zou Tun from contradicting her.
A small man, a clerk by the look of him, stood just behind the empress and whispered into her ear. He was translating. Excellent, Joanna thought. The empress was indeed understanding her.
"I know that for many, Kang Zou Tun's glory cannot be seen. But naturally the act can be repeated for those with eyes to see." She bowed slightly to the empress. "For those who daily view the glory of the Son of Heaven..." Joanna placed special emphasis on the emperor's other name, the one celebrating his direct descent from the divine. "You, of course, will be able to know."
It was a big gamble. The Chinese were not predisposed to listening to a white woman. But they did honor their religious leaders. And they did believe that any man—no matter how humble his origins—could become an immortal. How much more likely was it for the near cousin of the current Son of Heaven?
Joanna waited, praying that the empress would believe. Praying, too, that the woman had heard everything spoken. That she understood men's pride, believed in the possibility of true love, even if it was between an American woman and a Manchurian prince. But would she believe enough to make a happy ending possible?
Cixi spoke two words. They were in Mandarin, so Joanna did not understand. But she saw Zou Tun bow, dropping his head in acknowledgment while the empress and her retinue once more filed out.
It was not until she and Zou Tun were again alone that Joanna finally asked, "What did she say?"
Zou Tun turned to face her, hope shining in his eyes. " 'Prove it.'"
The only lasting satisfaction is that which is found in knowing when enough is enough. If everyone were contented, the world would be a peaceful place.
—Lao Tzu
Chapter 19
Prove it? Prove that they could reach Heaven? While others watched to see if what they claimed was true? The very thought was obscene, but they had little choice. And every reason to succeed. Zou Tun's family and their lives depended upon it.
Joanna turned to Zou Tun, drawing him to the bed.
"Joanna," he whispered. "It cannot be proved."
"Of course it can. They will be able to see it in us," she guessed. In truth, she had no idea whether they would or not. But she could not afford doubt. They had to believe. Zou Tun had to believe.
She kissed him, long and slow. Or so she tried. She tried to be calm and sure. What she expressed instead was fear and doubt. But he was reassuring. His kiss did what she'd wanted to do: It calmed her, eased her panic.
He'd centered her!
Her breath caught as the realization fully crystallized. She had a center. It was him. It was Zou Tun, and she would be lost without him. So she closed her eyes.
She forgot about everything but Zou Tun. She ignored the room and the people who watched. She released the future and the past. All that mattered was him. And her. And right now.
The words came easily, without forethought. Merely because they were true.
"I love you," she said.
He stilled against her breast, his lips curving into a smile on her skin. She thought he wouldn't speak because he was so still. But then he lifted his head, looking directly into her eyes. "I feel your love," he whispered. His face was filled with awe. "I feel it like the power of the sun." He swallowed. "You give me such power, Joanna."
She smiled because his eyes spoke to her. Only to her. But he had not said he loved her. Not as a man loves a wife. When he looked directly at her, the words had not come. And so she dropped her eyes, looking away.
"What has happened? Joanna, what are you doing?"
At his alarm, her gaze jumped back to his. But the words would not form. And when she didn't speak, his expression grew frightened.
"Do you not know that what we do must be done honestly? Openly? Why do you close yourself off to me?"
She bit her lip. He was right. She had to tell the truth if they had any hope of climbing to Heaven.
She swallowed. "When I say I love you, Zou Tun, I mean you. Not everyone else, but you—because you are strong and smart and you try so hard to do the right thing even when an entire empire conspires against you. I love you, Zou Tun. With all my heart. You are my center, and I will abandon my family, my culture, and everything I know just to be beside you."
His face softened, his eyes misting as he kissed her. "You honor me beyond words," he said, his voice choked.
She kissed him back, framing his face as she pulled him closer, touching him with all the hunger and love in her heart. But he pulled away, his expression growing somber.
"Why do you pull away from me?"
"I haven't—"
He stopped her words with a kiss. "No lies, Joanna. You said yourself that it damages you."
She nodded, resolved to tell him. "I have such love for you, Zou Tun. It hurts to know that your love is not... not for me alone. That you love me in only the most general of ways."
He stilled. It was not the silence of peace and meditation. This was a cold quiet, an absence of movement that came from a frozen soul.
"It's all right, Zou Tun. I understand. And you know what? I'm not sure it matters," she lied. But this time her lies were for herself. She so wanted to believe it didn't matter. That her love was enough. "I will take all of you that I can have and not wish for more. I love you that much."
He shook his head, the movement forced. "No," he whispered. "No."
She shifted away from him, the touch of his body feeling wrong. If he wanted to have this discussion, they would. If there was to be truth, then she would have all of it.
"Why, Zou Tun? Why can't you love me? How am I wrong?" It was a ridiculous question. No one could force love, even if they wanted to. But she could not shake the feeling that he could love her, if only she were different. If only she changed.
His eyes grew stricken. "You do not understand."
She had been reaching for him, needing to feel a connection even if it was wrong. But at his words her hand fell still. "Make me understand."
"Do you know what it is for a Chinese man to love?" He shook his head. "We love our fathers and honor their position. We love our country and emperor, for he is the Son of Heaven and the ruler of us all. We love our sons, for they are our future and the blessings of our old age."
"And your daughters? Your wives? Your empress?" she pressed, beginning to understand. "What are they to you?"
He shrugged. "They are nothing. They are the holy vessels of our sons."
She nodded, at last beginning to see where the difficulty lay. "And I am an imperfect vessel. A white barbarian who can give birth only to a flawed son—a half-white boy."
He looked down at his hands. "I do not wish to feel this way, Joanna."
"But you do. And because of that you have held yourself back. You have not been able to love me."
He nodded, and she read misery in every line of his body
.
Now she understood. In his eyes there was something wrong with her. She was white. And she was female. And both counts damned her.
She straightened, slowly moving off the bed. "I wasn't raised that way, Zou Tun. I was raised to be a person. A valuable person, an asset to my husband, my country, and myself. And I don't think I can live any other way."
"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice tight with fear.
"Love can be stopped, Zou Tun. Did you know that?" She stepped off the bed, turning to face him. From the corner of her eye she caught the ripple of a tapestry. There was someone behind it, watching. It was death, but she ignored it. There was too much at stake here for her to worry about who overheard what. All she cared about was Zou Tun's love and their future. So she focused on him, blocking out all else.
"I love you. Completely. Totally. I could have told myself I didn't love you. I could have blocked you from my thoughts, created reasons to hate you. And in time I think my love would have grown cold and hard. I might never have forgotten it, but it would have become a bitter thing, twisted and ugly." She shook her head. "I didn't want that. So I chose you. I choose to let my love flow freely. To you. And I will give up everything to be with you."
He pushed off the bed, coming to stand before her. "You humble me," he said.
But she held up her hand. "You have to choose the same thing, Zou Tun. You have to throw away everything, my love. You have to discard the thought of me as a flawed vessel; you have to step away from your country's demands and your father's wishes. You have to choose me."
He stopped, his eyes growing wide. "I have given up my throne. I came here with you," he snapped, "at the risk of both our lives. What more do you want?"
"Your heart. Freely given. To me." And with those words she risked all. Even knowing that they were watched, that they were not alone, she did it and held up her head with pride.
She pulled off her dress. She was wearing Western clothing—a riding habit that stripped away easily despite her fumbling fingers and pounding heart. Dress, corset, shift, garters—everything came off.
Zou Tun stood and watched, his mouth hanging slack with shock. "Joanna..." His voice was thick with emotion, but she shook her head.
"I understand your culture feels different, but this is my decision. I will not let you touch me until you choose."
"Joanna. There are people watching. We will die. If they believe I have forsaken all that—"
"We will die if you don't," she interrupted. "Because I cannot help you to Heaven if I am just a vessel, interchangeable with another."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in anxiety. "I could never replace you with anyone. Barbarian or Manchurian."
"Choose to love me, Zou Tun. Open your heart to me."
He didn't. He couldn't. She could see it in his eyes and in the twist of his body. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the tapestry and thinking of the people standing behind it.
"This is my country," he said.
She didn't answer. She simply stood there, her heart and body cold from her nakedness.
"This is all I have ever known," he continued. He paused, then: "But as a child grows, he learns new things. And so I have grown. And I have learned." He abruptly stepped forward, facing the tapestry and the people hidden behind it, simultaneously blocking their view of Joanna.
"I am Kang Zou Tun, onetime heir to the imperial throne and a Shaolin monk. And this I say to you: We are wrong. Our women are not vessels. They are not useless creatures without thought or will." He took a deep breath, his next words spoken with more power than she had ever heard from him. "And the white barbarians are ahead of us in that thinking, for they have educated their daughters with pride and skill. Indeed," he said, as he twisted slightly to look at her, "I think their women are superior in every way. Which means their children—boys and girls—are also superior." He straightened, his eyes going back to the tapestry. "And so it is that I, Kang Zou Tun, choose this woman—this white woman, Joanna Crane—as my wife. It is what I desire."
He turned then, looking to her with a hope and a love that made his entire body shine. "Will you marry me, Joanna Crane? There are ceremonies, but if you say so now, out loud, then the empress has the power to make it so."
She nodded, barely able to believe it was true. That he would forswear everything—his country, his throne, and his home—all for her. For the love of her.
"Yes," she said, her voice gaining strength as she continued. "I will marry you. With great joy."
He wrapped her in his arms then, kissing her with the full strength of his love. And when their lips parted, it was only so that he could whisper into her ear. "I never knew," he said. "I never knew that love could be so freeing. I feel... I feel light. I feel joyous. I feel..."
"Love," she finished for him. "Great, overwhelming, wonderful love."
He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes. "Yes. Thank you for making me choose. Thank you for making me release the chains that held me."
She went to kiss him then, but he would not let her.
"We can go to Heaven now, Joanna. I am sure of it. Together, with our love to make us light and free, we belong there. Will you go with me now?"
She grinned. "Of course."
He led her to the bed, lifting her with reverence onto the mattress. Then he stripped out of his clothing, his beautiful body flexing, his dragon already eager.
She felt her yin tide surging, buoyed by the love that flowed freely between them.
"I feel it," she told him. "The yin is so strong. And your yang..."
"White-hot. We have enough, Joanna. We have enough power—"
"Love," she corrected. "It is love that makes it so."
"Yes. We have enough love. Heaven will welcome us now."
And so it was. One kiss on her mouth and the yin tide began to surge. One caress on her breasts, and her cinnabar cave opened to welcome him. She was ready, and yet he took his time. His mouth worshipped her, his tongue swirling around and around her nipples until he drew them into his mouth. He suckled her, pulling hard and rhythmically, heating her yin tide until it boiled.
She touched him as well, caressing his dragon, kissing the whole of his body. They twisted their positions naturally, using their mouths to fire their blood, to help their bodies soar.
The circle of power flowed so strongly now, their love making his yang like a river and her yin like the ocean, each pouring into the other.
Her contractions began immediately. Those wonderful pulses within her cinnabar cave pushed her ever higher, ever closer to Heaven.
She brought him to the same place as well, bringing his dragon to the edge of throwing its white cloud. And then she stopped, pressing on his jen-mo point, helping him keep his seed inside.
He lifted her up, drawing her to his side so that they lay together, facing each another.
"You are my love," he said. And then he echoed her words back to her. "I abandon everything for you—my family, my culture, and all that I know, because you are everything to me. I love you."
She smiled, rolling and pulling him atop her. His weight was gloriously heavy. Her legs slipped open and his dragon stretched for her.
"You are my center, Zou Tun. I have never felt more whole, more at peace, than when I am with you. I love you."
"I love you."
They spoke at the same moment. And then, as the meaning of those wonderful words still echoed in her thoughts, he thrust into her. His dragon buried itself deep in her cinnabar cave. She felt the barrier of her virginity stretch and break. But before she could cry out, before she could protest the fullness of his presence, its heaviness and sheer size, she began to feel his yang. The river of energy pumped even faster now, flowing deep into her body. And the wonder of it far exceeded any discomfort.
She was stretched open, filled to her center, had become a link of yin and yang that was beyond anything she had ever experienced. He began to withdraw, but she didn't allo
w it. Wrapping her legs around him, she drew him forward, the impact of his body like a great pulse pushing her higher.
"Don't leave me," she gasped.
"Never," he answered. And then he pulled back, looking into her eyes. "We will go to Heaven now, Joanna."
She nodded. "Yes."
They did not need to speak any more. Whispered phrases of love were instead tender caresses of joy. The bright spark of passion burned eternal. Nothing was spoken aloud, but they saw forever reflected in each other's eyes.
His dragon pushed again and again into her cave.
She saw the moment coming in his eyes. Dazed wonder took him—a gasp of power and the release of joy.
His dragon released its yang cloud.
Her yin met it with a surging tide.
And as they cried out their joy, their souls ascended to Heaven and passed through the gate.
* * *
From her seat behind the tapestry, Dowager Empress Cixi released a long sigh. She knew she should be thrilled. The Kang boy had solved one of her great problems, and that should make today a good day. Beside her, General Kang twisted in shame, while beside her stood the white father of the barbarian. Mr. Crane was his name. And he had turned his back on his daughter rather than witness her coupling.
The new husband and wife were still now, their bodies intertwined while their souls danced in Heaven. She might have thought them dead if she hadn't been able to see the telltale rise and fall of Kang's breath. No, they were in Heaven—the white woman, too—while a half-dozen men and eunuchs watched in awe. Even her own son—brought in to see this heir's perfidy—had no words for the sight.
Two new immortals, and one a white woman.
Cixi shook her head in sadness. She would have declared them immortal even if they had done nothing more than couple with lusty abandon. She needed General Kang's troops, needed his skill, and this was the only way to spare his pride. Yes, she would have declared the Kang boy an immortal to prevent his father's suicide. That these two had accomplished the task made all her reason cry out.
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