He pressed his lips to her forehead. "To have you in my arms, held close to my heart."
She lifted her face, startled by the feeling in his voice. He sounded like a young man, or the new bridegroom he had once been with her. And as she looked up, he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was earnest; and she realized that, until prison, they had not shared such a thing in many years: a sweet and loving caress of tongues and lips.
She felt his arms tighten around her even as she stretched up to him. She felt the silky touch of his hair against her hands as she pulled him close. But most of all, she felt his mouth, full and alive as he moved with her. He teased her lips open by stroking his tongue across their seam. It was an easy thing to yield to him, and yet it had been so long, she went slowly, and her jaw actually popped with the effort.
She took control, for that was her practice and her habit. She was the one who stimulated, the one who stirred and stroked and enflamed. But not this time. In this kiss, he was master. His tongue dueled with hers and conquered.
But she was his mirror, and accustomed to taking control. She reflected his desire, and she too began to fight. Their tongues clashed—touching, stroking, pushing, even sucking. And it all brought Shi Po to a state of yin excitement beyond any previous experience.
How could a single kiss begin such yin dew? And how could this struggle between husband and wife make her smile? Kui Yu did too, for she felt his grin pull at his lips even as he continued his assault.
But then he coughed again. It would have been a small thing, barely heard, but he tried to hide it. And from hiding it, his body rebelled. His chest heaved in its attempts to expel the infection.
Kui Yu broke away, gasping for breath. Shi Po's hand slid to his back so she could feel every contraction of muscle and spine as he breathed. She also felt the tension that built within him, not because of his cough but because she witnessed it.
Finally, his breath eased. She said nothing as he straightened. Merely watched as his eyes searched her face.
"I have been with a prostitute," he said.
She blinked, sure she had not heard him correctly. He, too, appeared stunned by his confession, especially as he frowned and quickly grabbed her hand, drawing it to his side.
"I..." He swallowed. "Since Shen Zan's birth twelve years ago, you have not..." He grimaced. "You have not harvested any of my yang."
She thought back. "You had this cough then. I would not weaken you."
He shook his head. "Making love doesn't weaken me, Shi Po. I have..." He let his gaze drop away from her. "I waited for you. But with the new child, you were occupied."
She frowned, her body still cold, her thoughts sluggish. "You accuse me of neglecting my responsibilities to you?" Such would be unsurprising from most men, but Kui Yu had never been like most men.
"No. But I seek to understand. You would not come to me, even when..." His words trailed off, but she remembered.
"I refused you." She had found every excuse, every reason to avoid him. She had been involved with the children, stricken with an imaginary illness, even simply weary. Anything to forestall his attentions. Not because she hadn't wanted them, but because she'd feared for his strength. His cough had been a terrible thing.
"I went to your aunt," he said, his voice low, his eyes still canted away. "I pretended to be searching for you."
Shi Po felt bile rise in her throat. She knew what her aunt would do, what—obviously—her aunt had done.
"She introduced me to..." He took a deep breath and his voice became more commanding. "The yang release has not weakened me. It never has."
"How often?" She didn't know from where the words came, but they rasped out of her throat nonetheless.
He shrugged. "A few times a month." His gaze dropped to his hands. "That was why the messenger couldn't find me when General Kang came."
"You were at my aunt's garden? With...?"
"Not there, but... yes."
She felt cold invade every part of her body. It grew into the freezing burn of true horror. "Why tell me this? Why now? Why here?"
He struggled to answer. "So you would know. The yang release—"
"I know your opinion," she snapped, but there was more; she was sure of it. He wanted to tell her more.
He stroked a single character on her thigh: White.
She stared at him. She did not understand. So he tried again.
Ghost woman.
"Prostitute?" she gasped. The prostitute was a white woman?
He took a long time, stroking characters onto her arm despite the trembling of her limbs: Practiced speaking English. Learned much of value for business with whites.
She stared at him. "You talked with her? Or you released your yang?" She could hardly believe her voice was so calm, so deliberate.
"Both," he answered.
Both. But if she was white...
"Is that why?" she asked. Is that why General Kang had arrested them: Because Kui Yu had been with a white prostitute? Men had been killed for such things, she knew.
Kui Yu could only shrug. He had no idea.
They stared at each other, the silence stretching thin. Outside, the guard muttered to himself and shuffled past. Neither Shi Po nor Kui Yu looked at him. He often passed by their door to tease them by jangling his keys or speaking vile insults, and Shi Po had long since learned to ignore it.
Until now. This time the keys jangled because he was opening the cell door.
"Get up, you filthy vermin," the guard spat. "You're to go to execution now."
August 14, 1880
Kui Yu—
My father will never accept a son-in-law who works with whites. We take the barbarians' gold, but never their instruction. I have no influence in this matter.
Shi Po
A very greedy official had extorted a lot of ill-gotten wealth. Having finished his term of office, he returned home and saw a strange old man among his relatives. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am the Earth God of the county you used to rule."
"Have you come to honor me?" the official asked.
"There is no green place left for me in my county. What could I do but come live with you?"
Chapter 13
Kui Yu didn't waste any time. Though he had been sitting on the pallet, he was more than capable of dropping his head and ramming the guard. The only thing that had prevented him up to this point was the hope of a peaceful solution. With that hope gone, he was prepared to devastate his foe by any means possible. He exploded forward the moment the door opened.
His head impacted the guard's chest hard enough to crack ribs. He kept going, driving forward until he rammed the guard against the wall. His foe dropped to the floor unconscious. Shi Po ducked forward and quickly removed the guard's sword and passed it to him.
He suppressed his surprise. He had expected maidenly horror at the violence; instead, his wife had acted with impressive practicality. He would have kissed her right then if they didn't have to run.
They rushed down the hall. They knew the only escape was to the left, through the guardroom and out into the main building. With luck, those places would be nearly empty.
No luck. Nearly a dozen soldiers crammed into the tiny guardroom, and the nearest were already advancing. Kui Yu pushed his wife behind him, despite her resistance.
"You can't fight," she said. "They'll kill you."
He didn't have time to argue that they were already marked for execution. At least this way, he would die fighting. He focused on his task. Their only hope lay in the narrow hallway: only two soldiers could attack at a time. But they were younger men, trained for battle and protected by armor.
He did the best he could. Shi Po as well, for she grabbed the weapon off the first man he felled; but he was doomed from the beginning. He hadn't the strength or skill to fight these men. And all too soon, he was knocked to the floor, his head ringing with pain, his breath slammed from his body by well-placed fists.
Then he was
held by three soldiers while he watched them casually bat Shi Po's sword away. On her bound feet, she couldn't even run. They were faster, stronger, and merciless, and they shoved her to the ground and ripped off the last of her tattered clothing.
Kui Yu bellowed. With a surge of strength, he pushed to his feet. But then his knees were kicked out from behind. His arms were wrenched backward, and he was slammed sideways and down. As his face hit the floor, his left shoulder wrenched and he screamed. But the sound was cut off by the heavy impact of a knee against his back and a booted foot on his neck.
Still, he fought the pain. If only he could get free, if only he could fight... But there was nothing he could do. Even his view was blocked by the soldiers converging on Shi Po. He heard her scream. He heard—
A growl of a Manchu command. He understood nothing of what was said, only the tone.
The soldiers separated. Was it...?
Not General Kang. It was an older man with a sour expression that pulled at his battle scars, a captain by his uniform. The man's gaze barely flickered as he sized up Kui Yu. Then he turned to Shi Po.
Kui Yu tensed. He hadn't a clue what to do. He could barely hold on to consciousness. But he would do something. He would not let any Manchurian dog have his wife.
Another command echoed in the narrow hallway. A soldier jumped forward and pushed a wad of fabric at his commander, who didn't even touch it. Instead, his gaze cut to Shi Po. Coolie pants and a shirt landed with a soft whoosh on top of her bound feet. Shi Po snatched at the clothing and held it tight to her chest.
"Dress!" the soldier ordered in Shanghai dialect.
She did: pulling on the shirt first, then rushing to don the pants. They even allowed her to stand to do so. The guards pulled back to give her room as the captain watched with flat black eyes.
Kui Yu released his breath, feeling a small measure of relief. They wouldn't bother to dress her if they intended on rape.
Which meant... what? They were to be appropriately dressed for execution? But the Manchurians didn't have formal killings; prisoners just disappeared. Unless the executioners planned for Shi Po to be decently attired as they walked her to the killing pit. But why would they bother? Why dress a soon-to-be-dead woman?
Unless the guard had lied. Unless they weren't about to be killed, but presented to someone. Unless...
There were no more "unlesses," for the captain barked another order. The soldiers were quick to obey, and hands flipped Kui Yu onto his back. The boot that had been on his neck now shifted to his chest, while a sword point pressed into his cheek below his eye.
He stilled, despite the shoulder pain that burned through his body. He barely breathed as the captain came to stand over him. Kui Yu couldn't seem to focus clearly on the man's flat expression, because of the blinding sheen of sharp metal extended upward from his cheek.
The captain flicked his wrist, and the boot lifted off Kui Yu. Kui Yu still didn't breathe deeply, though, because the swords remained very close.
The captain stepped forward. Another wrist flick, and Kui Yu was shifted onto his good side, the sword point hovering just above his face.
"Leave him alone!" Shi Po cried, and was roughly cuffed for her pains.
Kui Yu might have said something to reassure her. He had an idea what was coming, though he could hardly believe it possible, but he had no breath to explain as the captain shoved a boot hard into his hurt armpit. Then, before he could draw breath, the man grabbed his damaged arm and yanked.
Kui Yu's shoulder popped again. He felt it, but couldn't hear it. He was too busy screaming.
* * *
Pain. Pain.
He was on a horse, belly down, strung across its back like a sack of rice. His head bounced like a upside-down chicken's, and he had just vomited. Agony came in rhythmic waves matching the horse's gait.
He tried to move, but he was bound tight. The ground rushed past. Pain. Pain. Pain.
* * *
Ground—cold and hard. Near a campfire. No more pounding. Not on a horse. Soft hands dripped water onto his face. And there came the clink of metal. Chains? Shi Po.
He tried to move, to reach for her. His arm was bound tightly by strips of cloth. The rest of his body barely twitched.
"Shhhh," she whispered. "Sleep." He fought waves of darkness. He needed to know something. He had to do something. Protect her?
He took a breath to speak, only to have his words lost in a hacking cough. The pain overwhelmed him.
* * *
Pain.
The horse again. No food to vomit up. Fuzzy head. Hacking cough. Would it never end?
Pain.
* * *
Fever.
She said it. He heard it. The Goddess Kwan Yin, smiling, bathing his face:
What would you give up to get your heart's desire?
Pain.
Cough.
Shi Po.
* * *
Cough. Burned through his chest, bringing awareness. Pain.
Not on a horse. In a bed. A soft bed with sweet-smelling sheets.
Home?
Not home. Where?
A woman cried great wracking sobs. Kui Yu frowned. Not a woman. A child. A girl-child? Who?
He was sick, his mind fogged. He remembered sex. Prison? A horse?
How long had he been ill? Days?
Tea. Bitter. Cool. It wet his lips, filled his mouth. He swallowed out of reflex. Then pain swamped his consciousness again.
No more darkness! Use the agony. Focus.
Where was he?
"Drink," the voice said.
Kwan Yin? Shi Po?
He swallowed again. This time the pain was manageable. The liquid tasted terrible, but then his wife's potions often did. Bitter taste, good healing. Or so she claimed.
When would that child stop crying?
He swallowed again. And again.
"Good," she said, and she set his head back down.
He tried to speak, but no sound came out. His mouth opened, but only on a sigh.
She smiled. It was his beautiful wife. "Get well, my husband," she said. "I have need of you."
He nodded and pushed himself upright to help her. He rose to whatever task she needed. Or so he thought. A moment later he realized he had only imagined the action. Against his will, his eyelids drooped down and he slept.
* * *
Shi Po pressed her fingers to Kui Yu's face, pleased that his fever had finally broken. She still worried about his cough, but all in all, he seemed much better. He slept easier now, and praise Buddha, they no longer traveled on those cursed beasts. Horses were a Manchu's first playground. She had heard they ate, slept, even copulated on their horses. Not so the men who had escorted them here. They had simply roped their beasts nearby, right next to their chained prisoners.
She rubbed at the raw marks on her wrists. The chains had been removed the moment they arrived, so ordered in curt tones by General Kang's wife. Shi Po had not understood the words, her Mandarin rusty from little use, but the meaning had been clear. The captain had abruptly ordered their manacles released, then had carried Kui Yu to this bedchamber.
Shi Po had stayed by her husband's side, of course. She had even managed to obtain the appropriate tea to ease his pain. But she had learned nothing new. She'd done nothing but sit by his side and sponge his brow for the last few hours.
That, and listen to a young girl sob as if her heart or her feet were breaking.
Shi Po stood. This was ridiculous. She would not sit imprisoned in this room just because she was too timid to learn more. She needed a bath and fresh clothing, Kui Yu needed a strengthening broth, and someone needed to see to that bawling child.
She took one last look at her husband. He was resting peacefully, his fever a thing of the past. He would sleep for many hours yet; she had no fear on that matter. And yet, she was strangely reluctant to leave his side. How many days had they lived in the same household and barely seen each other except to know that the othe
r still breathed? How many mornings had he left before she woke? How many evenings had she been deep in class while he ate his dinner alone?
If it weren't for Kui Yu's frequent visits to the nursery to chat with their children, he and Shi Po might have never seen one another. He was a capable man, well on the mend. She was an intelligent woman who needed to learn more about their situation. Indeed, their very survival might depend on what she could figure out now.
Yes, she had to go. And yet, she had not left her husband's side for over two weeks. Not even for the barest second. She found it excruciatingly difficult to walk away now, no matter the reason. What if she could not return to him? What if he began to cough and she was not there to... what? Hold him and worry? There was little she could do but watch.
And yet...
Shi Po forced herself to stand, and to stop mirroring her husband's illness. He slept; she had to find the strength to act. So she turned away from him and willed herself to walk out the door. Once started, she found herself moving quickly, desperate to accomplish her task.
The Kang estate was built in a traditional Chinese design, with living quarters arranged around a central courtyard, situated behind a gate, settled behind another garden and another gate and guardhouse; that much she had seen when they first arrived. They were in the country, some distance from Peking—or so she guessed from the Mandarin she heard. Their bedroom was on a side wing designed for guests, which is why the child's sobs were so unusual. Would not the girl be in the children's area; in her own bedroom?
Shi Po wandered the narrow hallway in search of the sobbing child. She found her quickly enough, despite the fact that the girl was tucked away underneath a table. Her face was buried against a tapestry, her black pigtails askew, her tiny body shaking with the force of her grief.
Shi Po had not necessarily meant to talk with the girl, especially since she doubted the tiny thing spoke Shanghai dialect. Her plan had been to assure herself that the child was safe, and then leave her to whatever adult eventually found her. But when she saw the little girl—likely no more than four years old—Shi Po could not turn away. Those miniature shoulders shook with grief as she lay on her side, her tiny hands wrapped around her knees. And as Shi Po advanced, the girl wiggled tighter against a tapestry, probably trying to hide beneath it.
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