The Way of the Tigress 1-4

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

  Love in the Moonlight

  Chang Chiu-ling (678-740)

  A golden moon rises

  the waters; the dark blue

  curtain of night covers the sky,

  which I share with my beloved

  though she be so far away, and I

  impatient with the length of the night;

  a night with a moon that makes

  me think only of her;

  rather than waste the moonlight,

  I put out the candle, get up and pace

  fretfully outside, the dew

  wetting my face; I would clutch

  a handful of moonbeams, sending them

  to her, but as I cannot, so

  at long last return to bed to sleep

  and dream of the day

  when we shall be wed.

  August 4, 1880

  Dearest Shi Po,

  I write this to you in a fit of anxiety before our first meeting. I have known you for so long, spoken with you nightly, risen to your sweet smile by day. Yours is the face that I have worshiped since the day I first saw you deliver lunch to your brother, all pigtails and innocent blushes.

  I am not easy with words. I know when we meet I will stammer and blush, and my tongue will not obey the dictates of my heart. So I write this to you now, so you will understand what I offer. Your father will not see me, will not consider me as your bridegroom. But this I tell you honestly: The men he considers are fools. One wastes his time on drink and women, the other on opium. Their houses have not the wealth they appear to, nor will their family connections support them when they are proven to be idiots.

  You, I think, understand the difficulties of a great family brought low by the rise of the Manchurians. And also, you know the fear of having one's survival depend on a young son who cannot live up to his promise. This I tell you: Your other bridegrooms are cut from the same cloth as your brother.

  I have no great family name. And in truth, my wealth also is not as it appears. Shi Po, you are doomed to wed a man of stringent economies. Therefore, you must look to your future.

  I have spent many hours dreaming of what I will do in the years to come. This too, your brother and your prospective bridegrooms have done. The difference is, I have a plan and the means to accomplish my goals, whereas they have only great words.

  I only lack two things, Shi Po. Your beauty beside me to inspire me, and your name to finalize the last of my business transactions. I wish to open a clothing store. I have saved money to buy fabric and to hire the tailors. I have even designed the look of the shop, the arrangement of goods that will bring foreign gold like rain. But I cannot buy the building or get the acceptance from the local authorities. That requires a great family connection—yours. And a great deal more money.

  I must work for many years yet for my English boss to gain so much money. But I have been carefully planning. I also bribe where I can and pray where I cannot. But in the end, it will take five more years to open my store. Five years of privation while I struggle.

  But after five years, Shi Po, this I promise you: My store will make profit. My time among the foreign devils has taught me well. I know I can move their gold into my pocket. I can give you a wealthy old age. I can provide a heritage for our sons and great dowries for our daughters. And I swear that from the first day, your rice bowl will always be filled.

  I do not waste time with women or drink. I despise the evil stench of opium. And I will work until my back breaks and my fingers gnarl with pain to make sure your tiny feet never need walk anywhere. I swear to build a great fortune, if only I can wake each morning to your smile and receive my tea each evening from your hand.

  My future rests upon you.

  With great hope and love,

  Tang Kui Yu

  One night a thief sneaked into the house of Mr. Woodhead, only to be surprised when the owner returned. Horrified, the thief escaped, leaving behind his fur coat. Mr. Woodhead was pleased about getting something for nothing. Since then, whenever he returned home to find his house safe and sound, he frowned and said, "Darn, no thief tonight."

  Chapter 12

  A Tigress never felt guilt. She did not betray, and she did not steal; she simply harvested the yang that men willingly offered, giving up her attention and yin in return. It was an equitable exchange that should never involve guilt.

  Or so she had been taught from the beginning, because men willingly ejaculated those years off their lives. Indeed, many were most eager to do so, over and over and over until they inevitably died.

  So she had been taught.

  But now, the man throwing away his life was her husband. And even worse, she had created the very situation that was causing his death. She'd seduced him while he slept, and now he was on the path to dying.

  "It's just a cough," he snapped. "I'm not going to die."

  She didn't answer, except to grimace as he withdrew his rapidly shrinking dragon from her body.

  "I've been feeling it for a while," he continued, his voice curt. "It's because of this damned cell."

  She narrowed her eyes and examined his body. "You have been ill for days? And you didn't say—"

  "I am fine!" he interrupted. Then he slowly twisted to look at her. "But you..." He took a deep breath to control his temper. "Why would you do that? Why would you..." His words trailed off as he looked down at her body.

  She drew her legs together and covered herself as best as she could. But that did not lessen the fury in his eyes, or her own guilt at what might end up as Kui Yu's death.

  His eyes focused on her thigh, and his hand shot out. She would have pulled away, but there was nowhere to move, trapped as she was between her husband and the wall. So she could do little as he wiped dark fluid off her leg and examined it in the murky light.

  "This is blood," he said, his voice so low he might have been speaking to himself. His gaze cut to her. "Are you in pain?"

  She shook her head, drawing herself into a sitting position with head bowed and legs curled beneath her.

  He looked again at the blood on his hand. "But... but... How is this possible?" He looked back at her legs. "You have had three children."

  She swallowed, then found her voice. "It has been twelve years, my husband. And all my practice is aimed at restoring youthfulness." When he did not understand, she rephrased: "At restoring... smallness."

  His eyes widened, and she shrugged to dismiss the burning pain his large dragon had inflicted.

  "But... you are bleeding."

  "It is not uncommon."

  He had no response, and so they stared at each other, the air thick with their unspoken thoughts. Until he coughed.

  She winced at the sound, even as he tried to mask it. If they were at home, she would ply him with healing teas and send him directly to bed. Such had been her prescription twelve years ago when the strain of begetting another son had taken its toll on his body. But here, in prison, what could she do but watch him expire, and feel the guilt because she had seduced him into expelling the last of his strength?

  He groaned, and her gaze jumped to his face. She had been staring at his withdrawn dragon.

  "That too is perfectly normal," he growled, indicating his shrunken size.

  "I know," she answered.

  "I'm not dying."

  "Of course not," she soothed.

  He cursed, then pushed up from the pallet to pace in angry strides back and forth across their cell. She wanted to tell him to sit down, to conserve his strength, but she knew it would only push him to foolish displays of manliness. So she simply watched him though her head was tilted down in apology.

  He stopped directly in front of her, his hands on his hips, still naked. "Why would you do that? Why would you force such an... an encounter, if you think it would kill me?"

  She swallowed and forced herself to meet his gaze. "You were irritable. Angry. It was yang poisoning," she confessed. She blinked away her tears, as they would only infuriate him more. "I did not k
now you were already weak."

  "I am not weak!" he bellowed. But the statement was undermined by the bout of gasping coughs that followed.

  Shi Po leapt to her feet, but she didn't dare touch him for fear of his reaction. So she stood beside Kui Yu and tried not to hover. At least it was a dry cough, high in his chest. The malady had not yet spread through his lungs. With careful management—even here in prison—they might be able to stave off disaster.

  He pushed her arm away. She tried to hold him, to wrap him in her warmth, but he threw her off. So she stepped away and pressed her lips together. She would not say something stupid, something that would only inflame the situation. Perhaps if she occupied the center of the cell, he would sit down just to escape her.

  He accepted none of it. He straightened to his full height and glared at her.

  Then came the change. Shi Po watched in horror as his power faded, his shoulders slumped, and he did indeed take the two steps he needed before dropping wearily back on the pallet. She once again rushed forward, but he lifted his head and glared her back. When he spoke, it was with fatalistic weariness.

  "I cannot win, Shi Po. I embrace your religion only to have you subvert it. Once that is accomplished, you flutter about me, terrified I am going to die." He lifted his head, and his eyes locked onto hers. "What do you want, Shi Po?"

  She swallowed, her mind completely blank. And in that silence, her husband continued to speak, his voice a recitation of despair.

  "For years I left you to your practice—to your yang harvesting and your yin purification—only to find you plotting your own death. So I gave myself to your cause, only to have you stop me. But now that I am stopped, you are still unhappy." He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed, his shoulders hunched. "What would you have me do?"

  She stared at him, quiet. How could he know her so well and yet not understand anything?

  "Why do you believe you can fix my unhappiness?" she asked.

  He blinked, clearly confused. "If a man cannot find peace in his own home—"

  "If you wanted peace, Kui Yu, then why did you marry me? Surely you knew—even then—that I was the wrong choice."

  "You aren't the wrong choice," he snapped, and she pulled back in surprise. His words reflexive, as if he had said them many times.

  "You have been criticized for our marriage?" she gently probed. Could her status have fallen so drastically?

  "No," he muttered, and she knew he lied.

  Her strength gave way, and she slowly sank to her knees. "Of all the things I have done, never did I wish to harm you," she said.

  He watched her there, on her knees, and in time his stiff posture softened and he leaned toward her. "I have not been harmed," he said. Then his tone turned dry. "Indeed, a man of my delicate condition would surely have died without your daily potions and tender care."

  Shi Po lifted her chin, using anger to ease her guilt. "You mock me," she said, "and yet you want to embrace my religion? You understand nothing of what I daily try to do for you: how I have made a study of your health, how I have prepared your food and your teas and your bed! But here"—she waved angrily at their cell—"I can do nothing, and already your cough has begun. Heaven's curse, my husband, you are not immortal! Everything else you do may be beyond the skill of mortal men, but not in this!"

  Her tirade ended on a gasp, and her body shook with fury. How could he not understand the simplest workings of Heaven? She lowered her voice, speaking slower and more calmly to him, as if he were the youngest cub she'd ever instructed. Men were always taught they could defy fate.

  "You have power in your body well beyond what others of your age exhibit," she agreed, elaborating on his great fortune. "Your every business endeavor rains gold down upon our heads. Even your first attempt at immortality..." She swallowed her own bitterness and forced herself to speak plainly. "You reached the antechamber of Heaven ahead of me and spoke with Kwan Yin." She sat beside him on the pallet. "Yet... you know you cannot be successful at everything. Somewhere, Heaven will make you weak and vulnerable. How else will the gods maintain their superiority?"

  He reached out and grasped her hands. "My body is firm because I continue to work. While other bosses rest fat and happy in their beds, I labor alongside the lowest coolie to be sure what I want done is done correctly. I pay for that in aches when I rest, and injuries when I fall."

  She nodded. She'd long since lost count of the nights she'd spent rubbing salve into his muscles.

  "My ventures do not always succeed, my wife. Many fail utterly. Those that succeed do so modestly, and only because of constant vigilance. The cost of our life was paid by you, Shi Po, for you gave me the money to begin my first business. And then, later, after your brother's friend..." He shook his head. "After that first building collapsed, and we had nothing. You brought the money in then, not I."

  She winced at these words they never spoke. They never discussed the first money given to him on their wedding night, or what she'd later been forced to do.

  "As for your religion..." His voice trailed away and he shrugged. "Kwan Yin visits fools and failures as well as successes. If I attained the gateway to Heaven, it was because of the purity of your yin." He drew her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into her palms. "My greatest blessing is that you chose me as your husband."

  She stared at him, numb with shock. He could not truly believe that! But one look at his face and she knew it was true. He actually believed his success was all due to her.

  "Kui Yu, you are a fool."

  "Then let me be a happy one," he countered. "Tell me what it is you need."

  She laughed. She actually laughed, and her pain and joy tumbled together into the sound. It was neither happy nor sad; it was simply a sound, an overflow of excess emotion. And all the while, her husband stared at her as if she were a puzzle, as if she were a problem with inventory or a mistake in carpentry.

  "My happiness cannot be solved by your labors Kui Yu," she said. "Surely you understand that." But of course he did not. It was the most basic of philosophies, not just for Tigresses, but universal to all Buddhists, and yet he did not understand. "Each man, each woman must look to her own salvation. You cannot find the answers for me."

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she rushed on.

  "Kui Yu, I do not want you to."

  He frowned, and tilted his head in confusion. "But you asked for my help. At the very beginning, when you were choosing which method... between the poison and dagger and..."

  She sighed. "I asked for your counsel. You are wise in so many ways." She paused. How to explain what was unclear even to herself? "You are a leader among men. You speak and they jump to obey."

  His bark of laughter stopped her cold. "Men follow gold, Shi Po. As long as I have that—"

  "Not true," she interrupted. "They followed you even when you were a boy. Even my brother listened to your schemes. You were the one to drag him to school. You were the one who made all the boys study."

  He shook his head. "I could not pay our tutor, so I had to help in other ways. He let me remain so long as I drilled and forced the other boys to learn."

  Shi Po nodded. This was no surprise to her. "And so you learned to lead."

  He shook his head. "Shi Po—"

  "Listen to me!" She grabbed his hand and wished she could guide his intellect as easily. "Your successes circle you like a god's mantle. Your strengths are many, your happiness assured. But I am cut differently, husband. I am a woman with grown children. What can I still do to find purpose and honor?"

  "Your children bring you honor. And your goodness brings honor to your home, and to your husband." It was the traditional Confucian answer, and it gave her no solace.

  "Kui Yu, do not try to take away the thing I pursue," she said. When he frowned at her, she tried again to explain. "You cannot hand me what I most want, Kui Yu. Otherwise, I will not want it."

  He dropped his head back against the wall and gazed at the dark ceili
ng. "Women's logic," he groaned.

  She did not deny it. "You have your work, Kui Yu. Will you take away mine?"

  He gazed at her sadly. "Your work does not bring you joy."

  "Does yours? Every day? Every moment?"

  "Of course not. No man has so much."

  "And yet you do not stop. Even after days or months of frustration."

  He shook his head. "Your discontent has grown, Shi Po. Over the years, it has become larger and darker. You hide your tears, but I see them. You struggle for sweetness when it came naturally so many years ago."

  She frowned, wondering if what he said was true. "Perhaps you did not see me clearly when we were younger."

  He shrugged. "Perhaps. But can you say that you have grown happier over the years? That your joy—"

  "No," she interrupted. "I cannot say that. Can you?"

  He nodded. "I have a full, rich life. My discontent comes from your misery. And this wretched cell."

  "Which is my fault as well."

  This time he growled in displeasure, though the sound rapidly fell into a cough. "I do not assign blame, Shi Po! I search for a solution."

  She ground her teeth. All this talk, and he still looked to solve her problems for her. So rather than argue further, she curled up next to him. She would give him her body heat while she searched for peace in the circle of his arms.

  They sat for a long while. Finally, he dropped a kiss upon her forehead. "We have solved nothing here."

  "Sometimes there is no solution," she replied.

  He did not respond, and so they settled back again. Shi Po's eyes began to droop with sleep.

  "It is a joy to hold you like this," her husband said.

  Shi Po nearly laughed. "In prison?" she mocked. "While spies listen at the door to everything we say? To everything we do?"