Beside his wife, Kwan Yin seemed insubstantial, and yet such a thing could not be possible. How could a goddess be less than a woman?
The answer came from the background vibration suffusing the antechamber: Shi Po was neither more nor less than the Goddess. They were equal in their glory, their only difference in the way they chose to display their light.
He had married a woman comparable to a goddess? The thought stunned him. It slowed his ascent, and he stared and stared at the woman who was his wife. But he came to only one conclusion, only one truth. Shi Po was the equal of a goddess. He'd married a goddess.
Kui Yu stopped completely, and his knees buckled as he instinctively dropped on his knees before these beings so above him. Indeed, he continued to drop. He pressed his head to the floor in a traditional kowtow. Only then did he think, only then did he wonder: What exactly was his wife saying to Kwan Yin? What did these two goddesses discuss?
He knew the answer. After all, he had just told his wife that he didn't love her. How appalling was that thought now? How could he not love a goddess?
His mind scrambled, and he felt himself begin to fall back to Earth. He lifted his head instinctively, searching for a handhold, an anchor, anything that would keep him in Heaven for just a few moments longer. He found it in Shi Po. Without thought, his gaze sought hers, his heart reached out to her, and in the moment when their eyes locked, his descent halted.
He froze in the antechamber, held by the will of his goddess wife.
But for how long? He knew that doubt made his hold even more tenuous, but he could not keep the fear from his mind. How long would she keep him with her? How long would he have her on Earth?
That was what the goddesses were discussing, wasn't it? It made sense. Goddesses belonged in Heaven. If his wife was a goddess, then she would naturally come here. No wonder she'd been obsessed with reaching to Heaven. No wonder she had spent every waking moment working toward this end, even considering poison, hanging, and knives just to get here. This was her natural milieu. This was where she belonged. Without him.
He was just a visitor here, brought by the force of her yin and his relationship with her. He knew that in his bones. That without her, he would not, could not be here.
"Don't stay," he pleaded with her. He didn't think she could hear him, but he saw her head jerk, her eyes widen in surprise.
Then he was sinking again. He had barely a moment left to speak to his wife, but he had no words, no true thought. Only anguish and fear—the two emotions that would drop him back to Earth faster than an arrow plunging to the ground.
He had lost his chance.
The Son
Ku Kuang (725-814)
A son was born in Fukien
and when he grew, the official there
bought him to be made a eunuch; and
thenceforth, though he brought great wealth
to his master, his life was but
one long record of crude punishment;
used just as if he was some gross
material thing; surely Heaven
could not have known he suffered so,
surely the gods could not have understood
that his bitterness should be
but for the amusement of others!
When his father in desperation had
to sell him, he said it were better
had he taken the advice
of neighbors, and not reared him,
for now the sadness of parting
was worse than death; and the son
told his father how his heart bled
knowing well this parting was final,
that never in this world would they
meet again—never!
September 4, 1880
Fairest Shi Po,
Pray do not listen to my ignorant words. I should never have thought you capable of deceit, much less suggested it. I know you already grieve deeply over your uncle's death. To suggest you use such an event for ulterior reasons was crass and despicable. I am the lowliest worm in your sight. But I am also a most desperate man.
I fear my ability to find an excellent resolution to this matter. Though I nightly pray for a miracle, I cannot see a way out. I even went to an opium den today. There is money to be had for one with the correct connections, and my English boss will agree if I can show him a good plan. But I could stand no more than ten minutes in that place. The despair in those people's eyes, those hopeless dead people who still breathe!
No, I could not do it, Shi Po. I would not be a whole man if I helped spread that most evil drug. I damn the foreigners for bringing their contamination to our country where so many have no defense against this horror. It is despicable how so many otherwise excellent Chinese men, women, and yes, even children, daily slip into opium stupor. I cannot work there even if it means I will fail you.
If only you were of less value to your family. If only your name were not so exalted. Then I would have hope. But you are a night star, and I am a mere man hopelessly stretching to your light, only to have it slip through his fingers.
In utter despair,
Kui Yu
There was a woman who had never seen a mirror before. One day, her husband bought one for her. While looking in the mirror she was surprised and hurriedly ran to tell her mother-in-law.
"Your son has brought a new wife home!"
"Really?" the old woman asked. "Let me have a look." Stepping behind her daughter-in-law, she became very startled. "What are we to do? The bride's mother has come too!"
Chapter 15
Shi Po came back to herself slowly. She groaned at the heavy weight that was Earth, her thick body, and the dense air that clogged her lungs and numbed her mind. She was back. And the thought depressed her.
Or perhaps it was not her return to Earth, so much as being sent back with more questions. Weren't goddesses supposed to answer questions? Not raise more?
She forced herself to inhale as she struggled to remember why she had worked so hard at living. Wouldn't it be better to just die and end the ceaseless search for meaning? Even if no Heaven waited at the end, even if she went to simple oblivion, wouldn't that be easier than all this ceaseless thinking?
Easier, she supposed. But not truly better. And at that moment, she heard her husband. He must have been talking for a long time. His words were disjointed and confused. He spoke and held her hand.
And he pressed his lips to her face, her neck, her mouth as he cried.
He was crying? She distinctly felt moisture on his cheek where he pressed against her. She heard the telltale catch in his voice as he tried to speak and sobbed at the same time.
"I did not understand," he was saying. "A goddess. I did not know you could be born on Earth and we would not know. That I had married you, and that you... But you cannot go back. Not yet. Not now that I finally understand. Please, sweet wife, be merciful. Remain here a little longer. So that I can worship you as you deserve. So that I... that we... that our children and your students... All of us must learn from you. I did not know. Forgive my stupidity. Please, Shi Po, you cannot leave us now. Don't leave me—"
Usually Shi Po struggled to open her eyes after such a descent. Usually it took an act of will to breathe and to move and to reenter the world of the living. But not this time. This time, her eyes flew open, her body shifted, and her grip tightened on her husband.
"What are—," she began, but he did not let her speak.
"Shi Po!" He rained kisses on her face and gasped in relief. "Thank you! Thank you for blessing us. Thank you!"
She wanted to stop him. She needed to find out what he was talking about. But truthfully, she liked the feel of his lips feathering across her body, enjoyed hearing his disjointed whispers of devotion. Especially as his words and lips warmed her all the way to her toes.
Then she frowned, her thoughts confused. Why was her body so cold? She knew about the weight. Everything about life on Earth was slow and heavy. But when had it become cold
? When had she become frozen? And when had the smallest touch from her husband brought such heat?
It wasn't a sensual heat. She had felt the yin rise in all its various forms, and this was different. This was hot tea on a cold morning. This was wrapping yourself in your mother's fur coat, or the impulsive hug of a small child.
And yet this was her husband, expressing complete joy and relief that she still breathed.
She smiled, reveling in the feeling, even if she didn't understand. He was pleased, and that made her reflect his pleasure. She would think no more than that. Except, he was pulling back, still touching her face and neck as if he could not stop himself. But his lips separated from hers.
"I did not understand, Shi Po. I am so sorry. How could I not know?"
"What are you talking about?" Her voice came out as a thick croak, but he understood nonetheless.
"I didn't know you were a goddess. I am so sorry. I was a fool—"
She pushed up slightly, and rolled to her side so she could face him more fully. He pulled back to give her room, but would not completely separate from her. His hand slid from her cheek, down her neck and shoulder, to rest gently on her upper arm. And the warmth that accumulated beneath his palm befuddled her thoughts.
"Why do you call me a goddess?" she asked.
He flushed, his gaze dropping to the ground in shame. "I saw you. With Kwan Yin." He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes in worshipful awe. "I saw you," he repeated.
She nodded as understanding slowly dawned. After all, this was her fifth visit to the heavenly antechamber. Though she had never spoken with Kwan Yin before, she had seen others—most especially Kui Yu—in their heavenly garb. But he had not seen anyone. And therefore, his confusion was understandable.
Still, she felt a selfish melancholy that she would have to disillusion her husband. "I am not a goddess, Kui Yu. You simply saw me as a spirit."
He nodded, but the movement was sluggish. He clearly was trying to understand her words. "I saw you. You had a holy light inside you. You infused everything with glory."
She nodded, pleased by his description despite the fact that everyone appeared so in the antechamber. "Let me tell you what I saw of you," she said. But then she paused, wondering if she dared express how he had been surrounded by power, how he was so much greater than he believed. It never ended well to inflate a man's ego.
Kui Yu pulled back, his expression wary. "You saw me? When you were with Kwan Yin?"
She nodded. "You saw me. Why would I not see you?"
He had no answer, so she pushed herself to continue, despite her fears. "You are a being of light, my husband, of blue skies and the sweet caresses of the spring wind. When I looked at you, I saw a thousand sunbeams that warmed whatever you touched. You are a bringer of life, Kui Yu. And in that, you are as much a god as I am a goddess."
Perhaps more, she realized silently. For on Earth, as a wife and Tigress, she only reflected his light.
He stared at her as he tried to absorb her words, but she could see he struggled. So she finally confessed. "What you saw of me, my husband, was a reflection of you."
He shook his head, but she had already begun her explanation. She would not stop now. "That is what Kwan Yin told me," she said.
"That you reflect me? But that is... It is... It is..."
"What women do, my husband. And what I have become is the extreme example of all that is feminine. We are submissive, we are giving, and at our most powerful, we simply reflect back what is presented to us."
She watched him think. His eyebrows twitched, furrowed and smoothed open again. But he said nothing.
She went on: "Kwan Yin asked me the same thing she asked you. She asked what I would give up to have what I most desire."
He nodded. He clearly recognized the question.
"But there was more," she said. She had to tell him everything. She had need of his wisdom. "I knew my choice, Kui Yu. I knew it...." She blinked away the tears that flowed so easily today. "I have to choose. I cannot go to Heaven still... attached to you. I cannot." She would not say she loved him again. She was not ready to re-feel the humiliation.
Her husband's expression shifted, but she could not read it. He seemed both happy and sad, both confused and content. And how could he be all those things and yet silent as a windless afternoon?
She leaned forward. "Do you understand, Kui Yu?" He shook his head. "Tell me everything," he whispered. "Was that all Kwan Yin asked?"
He knew. He knew what she'd learned. She did not know how he could, and yet, in some things, her husband understood what years of training had not taught her. "I told her I had not chosen. That I did not know. But..." She swallowed. How could she explain?
"But?" he prompted.
"But then she said I could have both." She looked up, and her gaze pinned his. She tried to make him understand—or perhaps she tried to draw understanding from him.
"How? How can you have both?" His voice was urgent. And sensing his strength, she was able to finish.
"She asked me if I would stop," she said.
"Stop?" He frowned. "Stop being a Tigress? Stop trying to become immortal? Stop what?"
"Stop reflecting." She took a deep breath. "Stop being a mirror."
He stared. Clearly he had no idea what she meant. He had no understanding of this fundamental part of her character; it was as if he had never even seen it.
"It is the image I use," she explained, "when I teach. How can a woman be so gentle, so giving to a man, and yet still protect herself?"
"But—," he began. She cut him off.
"Men wish a submissive woman. Men want a woman who gives them what they want. That is the ultimate in femininity—an entity to absorb, receive, and accept all in humility and subservience."
"You are speaking of a dog, not a woman!" Kui Yu said.
She couldn't stop her shrug. "To men, there is little difference."
He stiffened, but did not argue further. So she continued.
"A woman who takes all is doomed to an early grave. One cannot absorb the evils of the world without being poisoned. So I teach that a Tigress must go one step beyond. She must find a way to accomplish all." Shi Po straightened and sat upright before him. "I become a mirror, Kui Yu. I reflect back whatever is presented to me. If you give me violence, I will become your violence. If you give me gentleness, I will become that kindness. And I will return either to you."
"You strive to be a mirror?" he repeated. He was clearly stunned.
She straightened her shoulders and stared at him. "How else can one be feminine and still protect herself?"
He had no answer to that, only a dumb look. But then he slowly sat straight and matched her pose. "Kwan Yin asked you to give that up? To stop... reflecting?"
She nodded, misery welling up inside her. "But how can I do that? I cannot absorb the evils of the world. I will go mad!" She gestured wildly about the room. "General Kang will return. What will I do when I meet him?" Panic began to choke her, but still questions tumbled out. "What will I absorb from him? What will—"
"Absorb? But that is being a sponge," he said. "That is not... It can't be..." He shook his head. "You are a mirror?" he repeated incredulously.
She nodded, miserable. How could she give up the very attitude that had made her who she was? And yet, how could she give up either Kui Yu or her quest for immortality?
Kui Yu continued to stare until abruptly his face crumpled. "Women's religions!" he practically spat. "Mirrors! Sponges! And now I am talking like an idiot, too!" He pushed off of the bed to pace in irritation. He rounded on Shi Po, opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly shut it again before stomping about the room.
She knew better than to stop him. She had seen him agitated before; he often paced away bad humors. But this went beyond ill temper. This was fury, boiling before her like a thundercloud, and she knew better than to brave this storm.
Finally, he stopped before her, his hands planted on his hips. "Why can you no
t simply be you, Shi Po? Why must you be a mirror or an Immortal or a Tigress or even a mother or a wife? Why can you not simply be you?"
He waited for her answer, but what did one say to a question like that? She was all of those things. And yet...
"Shi Po," he began, his voice the low rumble of distant thunder. "Do not run from this question."
She flinched. How had he known she was thinking of ways to distract him? Of things she could do to delay giving an answer. She shook her head and felt cold air on her wet face. Tears, again! she thought in disgust.
"I have no answer," she said, wiping the moisture away. "Perhaps I am nothing." She had not meant to say the words aloud. She had not even dared think them to herself before. And yet, once again, when she was with her husband, she reflected his intelligence. She was forced to see herself clearly.
He snorted in disgust. "You are many things, wife. 'Nothing' is not one of them."
She lifted her chin, challenging him. "How do you know?"
"I did not marry nothing. I have not been plagued night and day by a vision of nothing, by a life with nothing. I have not been incarcerated or gone to Heaven with nothing! What are you thinking?"
She stared at him, completely silent.
He stared back, his clenched hands slowly relaxing, his trembling shoulders dropping. In the end, he climbed back into bed. She had no idea what he intended as he knelt before her, so she sat without moving and waited to learn.
Nothing, apparently. He reached out and stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes to better appreciate the sensation. It was wonderful, all things good. Warmth. Hot tea. Mother's arms. A child's hug. A man's kiss.
A man's kiss?
She opened her eyes as his lips moved over hers. She melted into him, and opened her mouth to allow him entry. But he did not push further. Instead, he pulled back.
"If I had wanted 'nothing,' Shi Po, I would have married anyone but you."
She had no response to that. She could only hear his words and feel his touch. With a sigh, he pulled away and lay down on the bed, his movements careful because of his shoulder. Then, when he was flat on his back, he looked at her and spread his arms.
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