It had been well over a decade since he had seen her naked feet. He had looked his fill as a new bridegroom, of course, but he had not touched them, too interested in his wife's other assets. Later, he had seen and even occasionally touched, but his wife was well skilled in methods to distract him.
Not this time, he vowed. Tonight, he would look and touch his fill. And tell her what he thought, for she was obviously embarrassed by their size.
He lifted her feet, carefully setting them both in the basin of water. She tried to fight him, but he needed no words to show his determination. His touch was firm, his expression hard, and in time, she gave in to his strength with an irritated huff.
"You need not do this," she protested.
"Yes, I do," he replied. Then he moderated his hot tone. Tonight was for honesty, so he spoke with unaccustomed frankness as he stroked a bathing cloth over her nearly five-inch feet.
"How can you think these are large?" he marveled as he held a foot in his hand. It barely covered half his palm.
She drew back at his question, but he had hold of her ankle and would not release her. "Don't be a fool," she snapped. "You know it was done too late and with great ignorance."
He nodded. He knew the story, probably in more detail than she thought, for he had heard her tell the tale to their daughter. So he began speaking with awe as he caressed her tiny golden lotuses. "Your four toes were curled under first," he said as he lifted and washed beneath the tiny pads of her smaller toes. She gasped as he worked, and he looked quickly at her face, trying to read her expression.
"Go slowly, Kui Yu. They are very sensitive."
He nodded, knowing this was true. Nothing so hidden away could be exposed and not feel every brush of air, every whisper of water and cloth.
"Your big toe came second," he continued, "curled over the smaller ones." He took his time with the large digit, circling its base all the way out to the tip as one would cup a beautiful flower bud. "Then broken pottery was pressed into your sole to bring on infection and to soften the flesh."
He pulled back her toes and applied himself to the moist, hot center of her foot. He washed as gently as he could, letting the tepid liquid flow along her flesh, easing the remembered pain. She remained silent, frozen in stillness until he applied the cloth. Then she began to pant with tiny puffs of breath that indicated great sensitivity.
"All this mass is pulled tighter and tighter until the bones break, the flesh softens, and the child stops crying," he said.
"We never stop crying, Kui Yu," she answered in a whisper. "Not until it is all done."
He knew that was true. "Eventually, the flesh is putrid. Then the foot is opened, the shards removed, the infection cleansed, and the tightest bindings are applied. That is when the foot is molded into this most perfect lotus shape."
He thought she had lost her anger, and so it surprised him when she abruptly pulled her foot away. Her bitterness was a palpable thing. "How do you know all this?" she asked.
He blinked. "We have a daughter. I was there for—"
"You were not!" she snapped. Then she swallowed, her eyes dropping to her lap. "That was women's work."
He nodded. It was. But he had listened to their daughter's sobbing, heard every scream, even watched his beautiful child totter and fall as she re-learned how to walk. He had heard it, seen it, even felt it... for as long as he could stand.
Then, in the way of all Chinese men, he had fled the house, immersing himself in his work, his money, his dreams of building a safe and happy home out of the sweat of his body.
He had succeeded. And so had Shi Po. Their daughter had married excellently. Her three-inch golden lotuses had passed the mother-in-law inspection, garnering her a wealthy, prestigious future.
His own mother, of course, had not known to inspect her future daughter-in-law. And so she had not known Shi Po's lotuses were too large and poorly shaped. Kui Yu hadn't cared, but Shi Po did. Shi Po knew. And so she had perpetually hidden her feet from him.
He grasped her other foot and pulled it toward him. He was firm, and as always her womanliness gave way to his strength. But she gave in with ill grace, growling, "My mother was a fool. To go through that agony and do it wrong..." She closed her eyes, her bitterness clear.
"It shows strength, Shi Po," he said without thought. "Your feet are a symbol to me of your strength and determination. I see this, and I marvel that you would do this to yourself. That your sex would endure such agony for men's pleasure." He shook his head, still confounded.
"It is not our choice, Kui Yu. It is done to us when we are too small to understand."
He nodded, nonplussed. "I could not have done it, Shi Po. Not to our daughter. Not to any child. You have the strength I do not." He shrugged even as he continued to cup her tiny feet. "I know that a woman with large feet will never marry well. That she often starves to death on the street if she cannot or will not prostitute herself to survive. That her husband, if one is bought for her, is an object of pity and scorn. I know these things, and yet I do not have your strength. I ran when I should have added my voice to yours. I made money for her dowry when you were ensuring that there would be suitors."
"That is your task," Shi Po said. "It is what a father does."
Kui Yu shook his head, knowing she would never understand. He looked at his wife and saw strength in her tiny feet, power in her swaying carriage, and a stunning resilience in her determination to survive anything that life demanded. He saw her, and he was amazed. He held her feet and was ashamed of his own weakness.
And yet, as he looked at her, he knew she understood none of that, could not comprehend his thoughts, and most of all, did not even believe that a man—any man—would think these things. So he remained silent in the face of her bitterness, unable to express that two inches or ten inches of feet made no difference to him. Well-shaped or grotesquely altered, her feet were a reflection of her spirit, and that he admired.
He said none of these things. He had no words for them. So he applied himself to her feet, letting his thoughts translate into his touch. His fingers dallied in each tiny crevice, gave attention to each softened curve or hardened callous. He gave to all parts of her feet, and in time, he heard her soft, barely stifled moans of pleasure.
The sole of a bound foot was the most sensitive part of a woman's body, save her yin pearl. A man educated in the ways of a dragon knew just how to touch a woman's feet in order to arouse. Kui Yu had read the dragon texts, knew just what to do, though he had never attempted the techniques before now. So he was pleased when his actions produced the very result promised in the manual. His wife began to pant, her hips shifting with rising yin. The scent of her desire rose in the humid air, mixing with the yang in his body to confound his thoughts and harden his dragon.
He loved to watch her lost in the yin embrace, and so he turned, facing her as he thrust his thumbs deep into the recesses of her two golden lotuses. She was watching him, her eyes still clear even as her yin tide made her thighs tremble and the belly of her tattooed tigress glisten with dew.
"The yin runs hot," she gasped. "But what of the yang?"
He shook his head. She could not attain Heaven without the greater yang circle. If he gave her no yang, she would remain here on Earth. With him. That was his plan, and it had succeeded well only moments ago. But he had not reckoned on Shi Po's determination. Or her skill.
One of her feet escaped his grasp. It lifted away from him only to wend its way to his dragon. The merest brush, and his yang fire surged high enough to singe his mind.
He gasped, startled by his reaction. Was he not a man? A thinking creature who had vowed to walk the dragon's path? He would not succumb to the yang hunger. He would not thrust into a woman's hot, tight opening like a beast driven mad by lust.
He would not, and yet before he realized what had occurred, his dragon was surrounded. Her feet cupped his organ, her twin lotuses slid up and down in blatant invitation.
"No!" he exclaim
ed. Or he thought he did. But he heard only the guttural moan of a man in pleasure.
Her tattooed tigress danced before him. Her cinnabar cave perfumed the air.
He could not... And yet, as the thought filtered through his fogged mind, he already knew it was too late. He felt the yang circle establish. From his dragon to his mind, his blood burned with desire. But that was not the worst of it. Another circle established hard and fast. It flowed male yang into Shi Po and returned sweet yin back to him. Even inexperienced as he was, he recognized the energy, knew the arc for what it was.
She had his yang. And the more she rubbed her sensitive lotuses against his dragon, the higher her yin rose.
Already she was near the peak. He heard her gasping breath as it matched his own. But her eyes were clear, her focus intent, and he knew she was preparing. With his yang and her yin, she would find Heaven.
To his horror, he watched as she extended her hand. He had thought the dagger far, far away, but she must have retrieved it when he left the room. She must have placed it next to her, and—fool that he was—he hadn't noticed.
He knew what she intended. When yin and yang reached their peak, she would cut herself. It didn't matter where. All that mattered was that the poison enter her blood. That moment of death would provide the last boost she needed to attain immortality. It would launch her to Heaven, leaving him abandoned on Earth.
Heedless of the cost, he threw himself forward, stretching his hand to pin her wrist.
He caught her, his greater weight holding her hand down, the dagger away from her tender skin. It was over then; he had stopped her. Or so he believed.
But again, he had not counted on her determination or skill.
Hissing in anger, she glared at him. "I will not be denied," she said.
Then she applied herself to his pleasure. If he thought her feet skillful before, it was nothing compared to what she did now. She stroked his dragon. With her feet, she pushed down his sheath to expose its full and hungry head. A yang pearl escaped, and she rolled it around with the curved center of her lotus. Her toes wiggled along the dragon ridge, just behind its head. Her heel rotated along the opposite axis, a rough counterpoint to the pulsing movements of her toes. In this way, she stimulated her own yin and set his yang to throbbing against her sensitive sole.
She was stealing his yang, using it to leave him, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it; nothing except bring her tide to its fullest height. Now, before she gained enough to attain heaven. Before he lost control enough to release her wrist. Before his dragon commanded all his attention.
He had the means directly before him. Indeed, he had been fighting the scent of her yin perfume since this began. Given his position, she was open directly before him. He needed only to dip his head to raise her yin too quickly to match his yang.
He did just that. He had no hand to help him; his left supported his weight and his right held her wrist pinned. Fortunately, he needed no tools beyond his mouth and tongue.
He pressed his lips to her pearl and extended his tongue to skate and swirl around whatever he could find. Her reaction was immediate. Her body arched, and she screamed. She had not expected this sudden surge in yin, and so he continued his motions, redoubling his efforts to bring her too quickly to her peak. Meanwhile, she used all her skill against him, and the feel of her writhing beneath his tongue was as much a weapon as anything else.
Another circle established. Yin entered Kui Yu's body and mind through his mouth, aided by his wife's scent. It flowed into him, drawing a matching surge of yang in his blood which flowed straight back to Shi Po.
Did she have enough yet? She couldn't. And yet, he was thrusting hard against her feet, nearing completion despite his every effort to stop. It was coming. The yang surge would be more than enough for her. He had to take her beyond her ability to ride the yin tide before that moment. He had to.
So he began to suck, and nip and stroke. He did everything his limited control could manage while she bucked and surged beneath him.
He heard her scream. He felt her body tense beneath his lips, and felt rhythmic contractions convulse her flesh on the yin tide. She was lost. He heard it in her scream. And in that moment, he lost his own battle. He exploded against her feet, yang fire erupting through him and into her.
But then there was more...
April 9, 1880
Dearest Lun Po,
I am in despair. Your father still will not receive me. I have nearly beggared myself sending him gifts, thinking up poetry. I even found Imperial jade and bribed the merchant to sell it to me. As if the price alone weren't enough! I want to quit this English master. I want to open a store of my own. But how can I save money when it all goes into gifts to your father who will not even open the door to me?
Lun Po, you must get me to the next bridegroom dinner. You must. Or I will come anyway and you will have to throw me out. Imagine the scene I would cause then.
Do not fail me, my old friend. Help me in this small way, and I shall be forever in your debt.
Your most desperate friend,
Kui Yu
* * *
April 13, 1880
Dear Kui Yu,
Be reasonable, my old friend. Your family name was born yesterday, and your hands are rough from labor. You work for the white barbarians and have less education than I. You cannot expect us to hand the flower of our generation into hands that daily commerce with devils.
With great sadness,
Lun Po
There was once a man who had great faith in geomantic omens. He consulted the geomancer before every action, always searching for beneficial or unfortunate signs. One day while he was sitting at the foot of a wall, the bricks collapsed on top of him.
"Help!" he cried.
His servants rushed over, then ran away. Only one remained to explain.
"Be patient," the servant said, "while we consult the geomancer to see if it's a good omen to break ground today."
Chapter 7
She was ascending to Heaven! All thanks to her husband. Kui Yu was amazingly capable at helping her create the small yin circle. She had not thought him so experienced in the sexual arts. Indeed, her ignorance of him disturbed her, but she had no time to examine it carefully; the yin tide engulfed her and her focus became riding the wave to Heaven.
Thankfully, she had forced Kui Yu's yang into the appropriate large circle despite his resistance. It mixed with her female yin, and now provided enough energy to take her to Heaven. And without the addition of poison to her blood! Which meant... Was she...? Could she...? Would she become an Immortal now?
Shi Po tamped down the elation that surged through her, focusing all her attention on riding the yin-yang tigress to her destination. The Heavenly portal was just ahead; she was sure of it. Indeed, she had already arrived at the antechamber: the Room of a Thousand Swinging Lanterns.
She had attained this level before, though many years ago. Indeed, the peace and joy of the space was tainted for her, the beauty of the swinging lights dimmed from her first experience. And yet, she still found great joy in the feeling of absolute lightness that pervaded the antechamber. Only here could she stand tall. Only here did she breathe without restriction and dance without pain.
She'd forgotten how much she loved this place. If only she could remain here forever, spinning in circles of delight. Indeed, she would have if Kui Yu had allowed her to use the dagger. If she could have poisoned herself, she would even now be settling here—or someplace even better, someplace beyond this antechamber.
But she had not. Because Kui Yu had stopped her.
The darkness shifted, and the lights folded back. Shi Po strained forward, anxious to see what came next. What would be her future? What might ensure her status on Earth as an Immortal? What...
Kui Yu?
Kui Yu! Her husband was there, standing on the steps to Heaven. He was talking with a celestial creature, a woman of great ethereal beauty and power. Was it K
wan Yin, Goddess of Hope?
He was here! He had come with her, joined Shi Po as she entered Heaven. They'd entered together. Except, it hadn't been together she now realized. He'd been here before her. And he was in conversation with a goddess without her.
Emotions tumbled through Shi Po. Confusion warred with envy and anger. But awe and joy held equal parts. It made no sense. She was thrilled that gentle Kui Yu had joined her. And yet, how could a novice precede her? Especially on his first night of practice? And what was he saying to that heavenly woman?
She strained toward him, but at the same time wanted to turn her back. He had already usurped her in everything else; how could he take Heaven from her as well? And yet, how could she not be gloriously happy for his success?
She wasn't! And yet, she was. One could not be in the antechamber to Heaven and not feel a generosity of spirit. But how had this happened?
Her emotions would not resolve themselves; her thoughts would not remain clear. And with her confusion, she lost her focus. She fell off the tigress.
The plummet was horrifying. But then again, it always was. And after three times now at the antechamber, she recognized the experience. It was cold, and dark, and worst of all, she felt heavy. After the lightness of immortality, even experienced for a single moment, the return to Earth was ugly. In the space of one heartbeat, she went from glorious to mundane, from stunning to coarse, from all that was most holy to all that was unimportant. Shi Po's chest and back folded in on one another until she could barely breathe. The cold dulled her thoughts, and the darkness made her long for death.
Yet, this time was even worse than usual. This time she knew she was leaving Kui Yu behind. This time, he would walk into Heaven while she—once again—fell into despair.
She wished she had it in her to be happy for him. He had attained perfection of spirit. But her goodness was not so pure. She was not happy; she was abandoned. And the pain of that made her think of her dagger even without the promise of Heaven to come. Just so long as she found an end, she would be content.
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