Pressing her bound feet down against the floor, she lifted her hips, then her back. As she moved, she felt the knife slide downward, back between her breasts. But she didn't stop there. She continued her undulation, forcing her belly upward, rolling her chest high so that her breasts trembled just below his mouth. And then, at the very last, her head fell back, exposing her neck.
She froze there, in arched display before him.
"Is this what you meant?" she asked, her voice overly sweet, because she knew it was not at all what he intended; it had been so much more. In this manner, she planned to regain some command over the situation. A man overcome with lust could be easily controlled.
Her husband, however, was not overcome. Instead, he leaned farther and farther forward. Shi Po's nipples tightened as his hot breath skated across them. He was kneeling on all fours over her, the blade inching higher and higher on her body. Surely it was against her throat now. She could feel the death energy tingling against her chin.
"Yes," he whispered, his voice coarse and low. "You are exactly what I want."
Then he lifted the blade, clipping the last of the fabric away. Then he tossed the blade across the room.
Her back was beginning to strain, her arch too heavy to hold. But she felt Kui Yu's yang heat like a hot breeze against her chilled body. It drew her upward, no matter that her muscles protested the strain. Despite the strangeness of this encounter, despite the anger that still hardened his features, Shi Po's body recognized the roiling yang within her husband. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to merge with him. She simply wanted. But he would not lower himself to her. And she could not sustain her position for long.
Eventually her back gave out, and she sank back to the floor. Only then did he follow. Only then did he touch her. And only then did she close her eyes, the exquisiteness of his tongue's caress bringing a sigh of delight from her lips.
He sucked on her left nipple. Without touching any other part of her body, he drew the peak into his mouth and rubbed his tongue across it. Up. Down. Up. Down. Suction at every stroke.
Shi Po's yin tide surged higher with each caress. Her yin rain flowed freely again. What had closed up in fear, now opened with joy. Even the belly of her tattooed tigress quivered with hunger. And still Kui Yu continued his rhythmic assault.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Then he stopped. Tightening his lips, he pulled himself—and her breast—higher and higher. Her body once again arched, her hands pushed down on the floor so that she might remain with him for a moment longer.
Then he moved away, and she fell backward with a crash. She landed hard on the floor. Her eyes were open now, and she searched for clues as to his next action. She found him grinning, the evening shadow unable to obscure the pearly whiteness of his teeth. Indeed, for a moment, she thought he appeared more beast than man, more dragon than husband.
Reaching out with his left hand, he casually kneaded her right breast.
"You liked that, didn't you, wife?" His voice was calm, almost bland, except for the low purr of satisfaction that trembled just beneath. On any other man, she would not have noticed, but this was her husband whom she had known since they were children. She recognized gloating satisfaction in him, even though he thought he hid it.
Oddly enough, she wasn't displeased. Let him have his joy. She was his wife, after all. He should enjoy their last time together. So she smiled, a lazy expression that startled him. "Yes, Kui Yu," she purred, "I do like that. Very much."
He watched her a moment and his hand stilled on her breast. "We have never talked this way before," he said slowly. "I have always done what I enjoyed and you allowed." Then he began to mold and shape her breast again, slowly narrowing his fingers to her nipple which he squeezed in short tiny pulses.
"Do you like this as well?"
His hand was large. She had forgotten how engulfed it could make her feel.
"I enjoy knowing the hard textures of you, Kui Yu," she said. She reached up and touched his face. "The rough scratch of your beard." She tightened her legs, drawing her calves up along the sides of his legs. "The coarse brush of the hair on your thighs." Then she reached out and pulled his other hand to her so that he held both her breasts. "And most especially, your hands."
He squeezed. He touched. He played. While she closed her eyes and savored the yin rise. She knew that what he did was against practice. He was too rough. His motions would eventually make her breasts loose and flabby. She didn't care. She liked his too-hard touch. Especially when he tweaked her nipples.
"Your skin is rough," she murmured aloud, speaking as much to herself as to him. "Thickened from hard labor."
He stilled. "I'm sorry—" But she shook her head.
"You don't understand." She drew his hand to her lips. She spread his fingers and gently kissed each ridge. "I have always loved your hands. It is the soft, perfumed hands of my brother that sicken me."
She could see that he was watching her, thinking hard about her words, so she set about proving them. She tongued his hand, exploring in short strokes the crevices between his fingers. Then she shifted to long lines down his palm before finally sucking his fingers one by one into her mouth.
She took a long time at this, releasing his one hand to raise his other to her mouth. He allowed her. But as she began her ministrations to his left hand, his right slid down her side. He paused only briefly at her breast before flowing down her belly, across the tigress face, and then between her legs to stroke the tigress's belly.
Once there, he followed her lead. When she dipped between his fingers, he slipped between her petals. When she licked long strokes across his palm, he pulled his thumb from her cave opening up to roll across her tigress pearl. And when she pulled his finger inside her mouth, he pushed himself deep inside her.
The small circle of yin established itself in her body, flowing from her breasts, through her womb, then up to her brain before returning to her breasts. She gloried in that wonderful current, which lifted her belly and heated her thoughts. With each stroke of his hand, the quivering deepened, became more intense and more holy.
She rolled her tongue across the side of his hand. Taking the meaty part between her teeth, she bit lightly. He growled low in his throat and spread her lotus petals wide, sliding his thumb and forefinger up to her pearl. Her jaw quivered, and she nibbled. So too did his fingers pinch and roll. Her yin flowed fast and hard, her internal bellows tightening in preparation.
But she had no larger circle, no yang river to complement and mix with her yin. She would not reach Heaven this way. She had to create the yang circle. She had to touch and stroke and bring her husband to fullness in order to create the dual rivers. So she pushed away his hand, struggling to sit up.
"No," she gasped. "The yang circle... It's not—"
"I know," answered her husband, his voice harsh enough to sound cruel. Then he pressed her back to the floor with his free hand. The other hand continued mercilessly. "There will be no yang circle tonight, wife." He held her down, while between her thighs he continued to pinch and roll and rub.
If she were alone, she would meditate her stored yang into a circling flow. Now there was no time. She had to end this. She knew that the yin river took a huge amount of energy. Too soon, and she would exhaust herself before she established the yang circle. Too late, and she would be frustrated with no power at all.
But he would not let her escape. The yin tide surged. It crested. It engulfed her. Too soon! Too soon!
He knew what he was doing: That was the last thought filtering through her mind as she began to ride the yin tigress. Her body clenched and writhed, her breath came in gasping bursts. And still Kui Yu continued, smiling at her while he held her frozen, his free arm pressed across her hips, his other hand alternating between thrusting deep into her womb before pulling all the way out to stroke a hardened thumb over and around her yin pearl.
It was wonderful. It was the yin tigress in her full, explosive ride. And it w
as also totally useless. Without the yang circle, Shi Po would not go to Heaven. So she sobbed at her husband, pleaded as best as she could for him to release her, to stop the torment.
He did not, and her heart trembled even as her mind and body exploded with ecstasy.
Then there was no thought, no practice, only the sweet enjoyment of pleasure, the deep breath of expansiveness, with no mind whatsoever.
What?
The yin tide receded. Shi Po's body began to still and her breath began to recover. But her mind was still trembling.
What had...?
Her legs rolled open as her muscles gave out. Her lungs steadied, though their pattern remained quick. And her tattooed tigress tilted upward as her back muscles finally gave way, dropping her body unceremoniously flat onto the floor.
What had he...?
Her breathing returned to normal; the yin tide receded to a pleasant warmth, but no more. Her eyes opened, and in the darkness, she saw little beyond Kui Yu's moonlit outline and his ivory-white smile.
At that moment, she realized something was different. Something vast and huge and fundamental had shifted in her. But she couldn't quite identify the shift, much less give it a name. What had her husband done?
July 9, 1879
(Sent to the Tseng patriarch upon the return of Shi Po from her aunt's home, forty-nine days after her uncle's funeral.)
Dear honorable Mr. Tseng,
Please accept this humble gift, a pale reflection of the joy and double happiness that must fill your home at the return of your chaste and filial daughter.
With great respect,
Tan Kui Yu
(Attached was a scepter of Imperial jade, exquisitely carved in three oval segments: the first, a three-toed dragon; the last a phoenix, her sharp talons extended. Between them, on the center segment, danced a magical pearl trailing celestial ribbons of power.)
* * *
September 10, 1879
(Sent to the Tseng patriarch upon the occasion of his son's departure for the Imperial examination.)
Great sir—
Please accept this most modest gift. It is but a small reflection of the benefits I have received from your most learned son, Lun Po. We studied together, and I have ever felt inspired by his intellect.
In humble gratitude,
Tan Kui Yu
(Attached was a rare copy of the Confucian Analects.)
* * *
January 24, 1880
(Sent to the Tseng patriarch on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday.)
Double Happiness on the glorious anniversary of your birth.
The Heavens celebrate with birdsong. The Earth brings forth its beauty. And your children reflect your eminence.
(Attached was a Mandarin jacket made of red silk shot through with gold and silver threads. The style modern, the design elaborate, the fasteners made of carved ivory.)
A man asked a craftsman if he could make a table with less timber than usual so as to save money. "I can make a table with only two legs," the craftsman suggested, "and by leaning it up against a pillar, it will work fine."
One night, the moonlight was bright and the man tried to set his table out in the yard, but of course it wouldn't stand up. Then he sent for the craftsman and complained.
"It's no problem cutting costs at home," said the craftsman, "but how can you expect to economize when you go out?"
Chapter 6
Kui Yu watched fear slip into his wife's expression. Her joy was a thing of beauty, something to immortalize in poetry or opera. In happiness, Shi Po had a glow that expanded outward from her center and encompassed all.
He had only seen her happy four other times. Three occasions were on the births of their children, in that incredible moment after the baby emerges. The children themselves were angry, scrunched, wailing balls covered in fluids. But when they finally quieted and settled against Shi Po's breast to nurse away their fears, Kui Yu had seen Heaven. In that moment, he had looked into his wife's eyes and felt that threefold happiness wished to all new parents. Except Shi Po's joy at those times was not threefold. It was a hundredfold, a thousandfold. And it touched not only the child, but him as well. Her joy was so expansive, she encompassed the whole world in welcoming their new child.
Those three moments were etched upon his spirit as indelibly as the day he had lifted the veil from his new wife's face and known, without doubt, that he had wed Shi Po. He did not know if the joy he'd felt that day had been only his or hers too, but he remembered the same welling of life that could only be divine. Such had been his happiness to wed this woman.
And now was the fifth time, a moment begun in frustration which had led to a beauty that humbled him. He saw contentment and awe in her face and writhing body. He felt an overwhelming honor that his delicate woman could find such fulfillment from his large, work-roughened hands. And most of all, he felt his own worries scatter, his emptiness ease when her joy touched him.
But then it faded. Fear stole into her eyes. That too was quickly hidden, covered by the hardened facade she so often adopted.
"Why do you hide from me, Shi Po?" he asked. He spoke the words without thought, knowing it was a foolish question. One could not confront fear so abruptly. It only made terror grab hold, and brought a response of sharp, angry words and a quick withdrawal. He knew this, and yet he could not stop himself.
She straightened onto her elbows and pulled away from him. "I hide nothing!" she snapped. "I am laid open before you!"
He remained silent, feeling her defenses harden. What did men do to find softness in the world? How did a man create comfort in a spirit that was only sharp edges and glittering pain? For that was what Shi Po's fear made her: sharp and painful. No wonder she sought to escape this world into immortality. She longed for the safety of Heaven.
The thought came to him on a breeze that deposited its wisdom before blowing past. Most days he would have missed it, too busy with making his fortune. But he was quiet just then, and his gaze rested on the moon-washed form of his beautiful wife even as she scooted backward on the silk tapestry.
His wife needed to feel safe. The thought rocked him to the core. Despite her position as lead Tigress, despite all his fortune and their many things, she was nearly paralyzed by fear. And that fear brought out all that was terrible inside her. That was why she was so angry now. That was why she hated that he had given her pleasure without practice. Because she did not feel safe unless she controlled her experience. Unless she managed everything to the tiniest detail.
Kui Yu straightened, fighting his new understanding. He did not want to believe that all his work to make money meant nothing. That all this time, his goal had been the wrong one.
What did a man do to make his family safe?
"I am weary, Shi Po," he said. He did not want her to retreat completely from him, so he placed his hand on that part of her he could reach: her still-quivering thigh. And she obliged him by not pulling completely away.
He stroked his hand down, liking the touch of her skin, the smooth slide down her elegant leg and strong calf. Until he came to her foot bindings. They interrupted the flow of his hand and the length of her leg. Without even thinking, he began to unwind them.
"What are you doing?" she cried, clearly alarmed.
He stilled and frowned first at her then down at his hand. He hadn't fully realized what he was doing, but now that he had, he would not be denied. "It is my right as your husband to see your feet." His voice was cold. Why did he sound angry with her?
"Of course it is your right, Kui Yu," she soothed, "but surely you don't wish—"
"Surely I do," he snapped in frustration. He shut his mouth and tried to keep his venom inside. But his anger came out in his motions as he roughly unwound the cloth.
She squirmed, clearly unhappy.
"Does this hurt?" he asked. If it did, he would stop.
He saw something flash in her eyes, a deviousness that came from fear, but in the end, her gaze dropp
ed to her lap.
"No," she said, her voice barely audible. "It doesn't hurt."
"Then why...?"
"Because they are not washed. Because they are not my best asset. Because no woman wishes to be exposed in all her ugliness."
He did not understand. "Your feet are beautiful." Then to emphasize the statement, he pulled away the last wrap around her left foot. He lifted it, the scent unpleasant, the golden lotus shape as beautiful as it was grotesque.
"Stop, Kui Yu," she begged. "Leave them alone. They smell."
He nodded because it was true. So he set her foot down and stood. "Stay there," he ordered as he moved quickly into a side room. It was a room for practice, available at all hours for the students. It would be empty now because of General Kang's visit, but there would be fresh water and cleaning cloths.
He grabbed those things, also finding more binding strips and a basin, and he returned as quickly as possible, releasing his breath only when he saw his wife still on the tapestry. She had not fled. She sat with her foot bindings in her hand.
"Put those cloths away," he said. "I have brought fresh."
She didn't respond, except to watch him with wary eyes. As he settled at her feet, she finally spoke with a tart tone. "You cannot go about the house naked. It is unseemly," she complained.
He nodded to acknowledge it. In truth, he had forgotten he was naked. His entire focus had been on his wife. "Very well," he replied. "I will restrict such behavior to the kitchens."
She gasped at his audacity. Still, the fear in her eyes lessened. It did not disappear, however, especially as he lifted her right foot and quickly released the bonds.
The bindings were as smelly as the others, so he quickly tossed them across the room. Shi Po leaned forward to bathe her feet herself. She poured water into the basin and began to arrange herself, but Kui Yu stopped her.
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