The Way of the Tigress 1-4

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

  "Please allow me to finish," he said harshly.

  She settled back into silence.

  He continued to the end of his tale, then:

  "Do you understand, my wife?"

  She blinked. Did she understand? "You... you had a building," she stammered. "The one that fell down." She remembered his fury at the incident; it had been early in their marriage. On the advice of a friend, Kui Yu had bought a building that needed repairs. The friend also recommended workers and had supervised the construction. But the friend was Shi Po's stupid brother Lun Po, who had never succeeded at anything. Within a year, the building had collapsed and their finances lay in ruins.

  "So you understand?" her husband pressed.

  She sighed, shaking her head. "I am sorry, Kui Yu. I am a woman and have no head for business."

  His expression softened. "That is forgiven, my wife. The story means this: A building begun badly cannot be fixed, cannot achieve its full potential no matter how much devotion is given to it later. It must be stripped down to its foundations and begun again. Only then can it achieve greatness."

  She frowned. Why had he not just said that in the first place?

  "You have spoken little of the beginning of your practice. Are you so sure that your foundation is all that it should have been?"

  She stared at him, her mind completely blank. His words formed and reformed in her mind, going nowhere.

  "What was your initiation into the Tigress practice?" he asked.

  "Of no moment," she snapped.

  She was startled by her own harshness. He had approached her with nothing beyond simple curiosity, and so she consciously softened her anger, allowing her thoughts and body to reflect her husband. But he waited in silence.

  "Your thoughts are wise, my husband," she said. But were they? "You believe I am like a poorly begun building." She was? "And that before I can go forward, I must return to the beginning. Test myself down to the foundation."

  "I merely suggest it as a possibility."

  "But you think it is so," she pushed.

  He hesitated, his hands flat upon his knees, his fingers still. His fingers still...

  Shi Po's thoughts crystallized. Her husband's fingers were still now, but they hadn't been a moment before. Even when she narrowed her focus upon his face, she had seen his hands move. They always moved. They were always expressing or punctuating or emphasizing.

  But now...

  "Where is my vial of poison?" she asked. And the dagger? And the rope? They were all gone! The space between her and her husband was empty. Only the two pitiful scorpions remained in their cage. Her gaze flashed up to his. "Why did you take them?"

  He blinked, as if he could not possibly understand what she was saying. "You asked my opinion. I require these things in order to judge their effectiveness."

  "Give them back."

  "You asked me to help."

  "Where did you put them?" She studied his clothing. His robes were full enough that he could have hidden them on his person and no one would be able to tell.

  "I have need of them," he said again.

  She stared at him. "I can get others."

  "But you will not."

  She glared at him, furious with herself for allowing her attention to lapse. She needed her things! "Kui Yu, I believe your humors are out of balance. You are acting irrationally."

  He huffed, folding his arms in a harsh show of intemperance. "My humors are sadly out of balance, wife, which is why I first came to you this evening."

  She frowned. "It was not because of the summons?"

  He ground his teeth. She heard it quite clearly. "Yes, it was because of General Kang. But it was also because his visit is just one of a myriad imbalances in an unbalanced month."

  Shi Po tilted her head, trying to recall her husband's actions. It saddened her to realize that she had been so involved with her immortality and the Kang son that she had missed Kui Yu's difficulties. But then she daily failed her husband, despite all her efforts. If only she understood him better. Then she would know what kept his gaze somber and his laughter quiet.

  Then he spoke, his voice and demeanor so firm as to make her straighten up in reflection. And after he spoke, after she reflected his thoughts back to him, she even understood what he had said. She repeated his words back, just to make sure she had them correct.

  "You said, 'I wish to begin training.'" The words didn't make sense! She went on. "You want me to teach you from the beginning. The way of the Tigress, the way of the Dragon."

  He blinked, but she detected a glint of joy in his eyes. "I wish to learn," he said clearly. "But it is an excellent and wise decision for you to begin again as well." He nodded, as if just now coming to the decision. "We will train together. As if we both were just beginning."

  Her hands started to fidget, her thoughts spinning. "I..." What? "I cannot begin again! I cannot go back to when I was a child!"

  "So, you were a child when you first learned the Tigress practice?" He sounded surprised.

  "No, I..." She what? She had been a child. And yet, she had been so much older than that. "I cannot think." She sniffed at the air. "Your imbalance is affecting me."

  He bowed his head. "I apologize. But that is exactly why I want to learn. So I can balance my energies."

  "But... you cannot!"

  "Is it too late for me? Should I resign myself to an early death?" Kui Yu's shoulders drooped. "How much time do I have? A year, do you think?"

  "You cannot die!" Shi Po exclaimed. "Who then would care for the boys?"

  Her husband shrugged. "I cannot change my fate." His gaze lifted to her face. "It appears you have many reasons to delay your immortality."

  Shi Po pushed herself up, tottering a moment on her bound feet before finding her balance. "You are twisting my words and confusing me," she complained.

  Kui Yu was silent, but Shi Po hardly cared, for she was busy thinking of her stillroom, of the herbs and possible poisons she had there. Then her spouse's words cut into her thoughts, even as his hands cupped her elbows and stilled her. She had not even realized he stood, but here he was holding her.

  "I am not trying to harm you, Shi Po," he said. His voice was low and urgent. "I wish to give you an alternative."

  She frowned, his words startling. "I don't understand."

  "Instead of seeking immortality from an unstable foundation, and failing as you have, why not begin the practice again? From the beginning, with me. Then your progress will come from the best of all possible beginnings, and you will also balance my humors, thereby assuring that I live a long and healthy life when and if you choose to leave. Then I will be able to take care of our children."

  She felt his yang flowing into her from the force of his passion. It slipped from his fingers into her arms, burning into her skin even through the barrier of her gown. Even worse, she felt her feminine yin respond.

  Her resolve softened, making everything—her body and her mind—receptive to his penetration.

  "I cannot believe this will be helpful," she murmured.

  "Think of the benefits. Do you not understand them?"

  He was battering her will as his dragon had once battered her cinnabar cave. What choice did she have but to allow it? It was her wifely duty to accept his attentions. And yet, she was not a simple receptacle, a receiver of his thoughts and his seed. She was a mirror. Had she not spent years in study so that she could be just that? So that she could reflect others, show them their true selves even as she herself used that ability to learn?

  She was a mirror; and so she consciously hardened her thoughts to reflect his yang power and to strengthen her resolve. Her body straightened, and she bumped against the fabric of his pants. The long leg should have draped gently around his thigh, but it didn't.

  Her dagger. In its sheath. Hidden in the long pocket of his pants.

  She lifted her gaze to study her husband's face. How had he changed her? She had begun their conversation filled with resolve
, and now she wavered. He had planted thoughts in her head, and now she felt like newly turned earth: soft and uncertain, but also fertile and rich.

  He had given her such thoughts...

  "Will you do this, Shi Po?" he asked, his voice and his touch urgent. "Will you teach me? Will you stay with me?"

  At last seeing her path, she nodded. She was not just Kui Yu's receptacle, she was also his mirror. And that very contradiction was the reason she'd come as close as she had to immortality.

  "I will partner you, Kui Yu, and in doing so, I will begin again—as if we were young cubs, just learning our power."

  She felt him relax, his breath released in a puff like a summer breeze in the small, closed room. She waited until it was fully exhaled and his body was at its calmest. She waited until the last of that air had whispered past her brow, and then she struck: She reached inside his pocket and pulled out the dagger. And in a single swift move, she unsheathed it, holding the glittering blade before her.

  Kui Yu reached for it, of course. He tried to take it, but she was too fast. She held the blade to her throat—to the notch in the neck of her gown—and waited until he stilled.

  "What are you doing?" he gasped, his body poised to act.

  "Do you know why I waited for you, Kui Yu?" she asked. "Do you know the true reason I did not use this dagger this afternoon, when my mind was prepared and the knife was within reach?"

  He shook his head, his gaze trained on where the tip of the dagger rested against her throat.

  "Because you always give me other options, husband. Where I see two possibilities, you see three. Where I see none, you see many. Such is your strength, and I value it greatly."

  His gaze lifted to hers, somewhat confused. "So, you will stay?" His next question remained unspoken as his eyes returned to the dagger point. He wanted to ask why she held a dagger to her throat if she intended to remain alive.

  "I wish to show you that I can and will do what I have set out to. I have not replaced my choice with yours. I have merely chosen another option. For now." She blinked, startled to discover that her eyes were tearing and her heart ached. "I will become immortal, Kui Yu. Nothing can delay me for long."

  "But what if—," he began.

  She cut him off. "It will be my choice, Kui Yu. You merely supply options."

  She sighed, seeing that he did not truly understand. What man could? She was an unnatural woman in this regard. It was the yang she had stored over the years, which gave her strength and resolve where other women were soft.

  "This is ultimately my choice, Kui Yu. And I will not relinquish it." And with that, they both had to be content.

  She watched Kui Yu's face contort with frustration. "All over China, people struggle to survive. To live. Why do you leap to death? Is your life so terrible? Do all our riches, your sons, and our home—does all that mean nothing?"

  She stared at him, seeing that he understood so little of her. "They are nothing when compared to what I seek. It is what the most revered men in China seek: heaven and immortality."

  "They do not put a dagger to their own throats."

  "Some starve themselves. Some expose themselves to sickness so they wither. All seekers long for the last step into immortality. I am no different."

  "You are very different, my wife. You always have been."

  * * *

  Kui Yu watched his wife sheathe her dagger, his heart still pounding in his chest. He could have taken the knife from her the moment the blade left her throat, but she always needed to feel in control. So he allowed her to keep it, though he clenched his fists to remain still.

  She watched him, testing his resolve. He smiled blandly at her, but his patience was wearing thin. A wife's task was to keep her husband's home peaceful. He had already given Shi Po great latitude, especially since their sons left. But now... this had to end. He would not tolerate her moods much longer.

  And yet, how often had he resolved to be firm with his wife, to bring her to heel in the most direct manner possible? All it took was one second, for when she smiled at him, her body softening with pleasure as she brought him tea or smoothed the sheets of his bed, then all his resolutions disappeared and his anger faded. What remained was a sweet longing and faded dreams of what might have been.

  He looked in her eyes, expecting to see her soften. That was their usual pattern. Whatever the drama she enacted, whatever difficulties either of them encountered during the day, eventually those emotions passed. Eventually, his wife would take his arm and lead him to dinner or tea, or to his soft and lonely bed. Then his home would be peaceful once again. Quiet, if not loving.

  But that did not happen this time. There was no return to normalcy, though she set the dagger aside. Instead, he saw only emptiness in his wife. Her eyes seemed like fissures into a deep cave. Shi Po was inside somewhere, but her spirit seemed lost, frightened, and alone.

  "So... what of General Kang and his men?" he heard himself ask. "Did they hurt you?"

  She shook her head, but her expression was angry. "There was little danger. The General was only interested in his son."

  He detected no lie in her words, which allayed some of his tension. There was no way for a Han Chinese to fight the Manchurian invaders. The Manchurian Qins were firmly established as rulers in China, and any complaint would only bring more unwanted attention.

  Fortunately, the General was gone, Shi Po appeared unharmed, and her students were safe. Yet, she now held a dagger in her hand and ached for death. It made no sense; but when had women ever been understood by men?

  Kui Yu shifted his weight to rest on his heels. How should he proceed from here? He had no idea, and that realization shook him to the very core. So far he had been scrambling, saying anything, doing anything to delay his wife's decision for a moment longer. But now that she had taken his advice and chosen to wait, he was hard put to remember what he had said.

  It took him less than a breath to recall. He had promised to start her religious practice from the beginning. With her.

  The very thought nauseated him. Hers was a female religion. True, he had seen amazing transformations in her students—some even progressing from withered little nothings to beautiful, strong women—but he hardly needed to find confidence. Nor did he need education on how to forge his path in a difficult world.

  But, he had promised. And the darkness in his wife's eyes told him that if he did not keep her busy, did not occupy her hands and mind with the business of life, then she would chose death. She would leave him and their children in her unnatural quest for immortality.

  "Shall we begin?" he asked.

  She blinked. Her focus had been on the dagger, but now she looked at him. "What?"

  "Your practice. The practice." He shrugged. "Whatever your initiates do first."

  She seemed to have sensed his reluctance. She said resignedly, "You need not bother yourself. It is for women, you realize."

  He stiffened, feeling insulted. Which was absurd, for she echoed his own thoughts. "There are men who practice. Cheng Ru Shan, for one. He was your... your..."

  "Jade dragon."

  Heat suffused Kui Yu's face as he spoke. "You practiced with him."

  She shook her head. "Not very well. And not for many years now."

  "It was not so long ago," he countered. He remembered all too clearly the day she had come to him begging for money to help her jade dragon out of financial difficulties. That the man was also his nearest competitor had not bothered her. Instead, she had spoken about interest and collateral for the loan. Where she had learned such things, Kui Yu did not know, but she had certainly understood the possibilities for gain: The Cheng store would go to him should Ru Shan forfeit the loan. And if he repaid the debt—which he had—then the interest would provide a tidy profit.

  So he had done the thing. He had given his wife's partner, his competitor, the means to survive through the year. And with that money, Ru Shan had saved his store, found a wife, and attained immortality.
>
  Kui Yu, on the other hand, had stretched his own finances thin, and his wife had abruptly changed from a placid, sweet-tempered teacher to a moody woman obsessed with immortality. So he had little love for Cheng Ru Shan, even though his wife spoke with quiet vehemence.

  "I have not practiced with Ru Shan for years," she said. "He gained his immortality with his white pet." She swallowed, obviously forcing herself to moderate her words. "With his English woman."

  She was not lying. He could see the bitterness the words caused her. But Kui Yu knew Ru Shan had not discarded Shi Po in favor of the white woman. Indeed, if he had to guess, Ru Shan had been forced onto his path.

  He frowned. "Who has been your partner if not Ru Shan?"

  His wife shook her head, refusing to answer. He watched her, the truth dawning slowly on him. It was stunning.

  "You have not practiced. Not for years."

  Again came the flash of fire deep within her gaze. "I have practiced. Devotedly."

  Obsessively, thought Kui Yu, but only after Ru Shan and his woman attained their status as Immortals. But she had had no partner. He knew this because he had been watching for the signs—flushed cheeks when he inquired about her day, creeping exhaustion that came from nights and days of practice riding the yin tide. And most especially, her absence from the house at strange hours. He knew her coming and goings; a man of wealth would be a fool not to watch his wife. But there had been no new partner for her. Only Ru Shan. Who had left China months ago.

  Which meant: "You have been meditating alone. Stirring the yin and yang by yourself. But why?" If she was so determined to be immortal, why would she neglect this most obvious ingredient?

  She drew herself up to her full, impressive height—a bare inch shorter than himself. And in that movement, he saw every wealthy, aristocratic ancestor of her parentage. She was indeed the granddaughter of those who had served the glorious Ming Emperors. When she spoke, her heritage and passion throbbed in her tones.

  "Do you dare question my practice?"

  He smiled. Indeed, he could hardly help himself, he so admired the power in her heart. "I do nothing of the kind," he said mildly, his good humor slowly returning. "I seek to understand what you do. After all, I have set myself to learn it, and how else does a student learn except by questioning his teacher?"