The Way of the Tigress 1-4

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

  "There is no whole for a disowned man! Do you not understand that? Without my family, I am a broken piece of an altar decoration, a thread cut off and discarded from the full tapestry. I am nothing!"

  "But don't you see?" she countered, grabbing his hands and holding him to her. "You aren't broken, and you aren't discarded. Not unless you want to be."

  He stared at her, and he could see she didn't understand. "A Chinese man is not just himself alone. His ancestors watch over him; his descendants care for him."

  "So, since you don't have one you will cut off the other?"

  "Yes!" he snapped. "It was my destiny thirty years ago, and I used treachery to avoid it. I told my brother that I was going to a fair without him. I pretended to brag, saying I would eat sweets and see a great magician. Then I let him sneak in the cart in my place and pretend to be me. I let him walk into the surgeon's tent expecting a show instead of the knife."

  "You were eight years old!"

  He shook his head. "I knew better." He straightened. "And now I return to the path I should have walked."

  "You can't," she pressed.

  "I can."

  "You can't!" she repeated with more force than he'd ever heard from her before. "You can't become an eight-year-old boy again. You can't ignore what you have learned and done and been these last twenty years."

  He meant to argue. He meant to claim that he could indeed be what he once was, but she was right. He was changed, and not even castration could erase the last two decades. He sighed. "I must return to the middle path. I must find peace."

  She reached for him, stroking his arm. "Perhaps to be whole, you must look ahead instead of behind. Forget the past. Forge ahead to a new future. Create your own clan and your own ancestors."

  He almost laughed at her silliness, but refrained because she would be insulted. "I cannot simply make up new ancestors."

  She smiled. "Of course not. But you can create your own family altar. Write down the names of the people who still love you."

  He snorted. "Ancestors are not so easily accepted or discarded."

  "Then neither would their descendants be. Surely someone loved you. Someone would still claim you."

  His grandmother. He knew this but did not admit it. Charlotte must have seen the thought inside him, though, must have sensed the softening in his heart at the memory of his father's mother.

  "There is someone, isn't there?" she pressed.

  "A woman does not go on a family altar."

  "Says who?"

  "Says me." And all the ancestors before him.

  "Well, you're wrong."

  This time, he did laugh. It was a clean sound, bursting from him. It brought lightness in its wake, and peace—a small, beautiful measure of peace. Then his laugh faded and they sat once again, side by side in silence.

  Finally she sighed. "You're still going to Peking, aren't you?"

  He nodded. "Unless you wish to go back to the mission."

  "No. You'd just go on to the Forbidden City without me, and then we'd both be miserable."

  He felt a smile tug at his lips. "I have no desire to see you miserable."

  "I have no desire to see you castrated."

  He laughed. "You need not watch."

  "You need not do it at all."

  Silence again settled between them, but it was not so heavy this time. Especially when he turned his hand palm-side up and her hand slipped into his. As always, their qi quickly harmonized.

  "Will you still teach me?" she asked.

  He smiled. How could he deny her anything? "If you still wish it."

  "I do."

  He was silent a moment. "How much do you wish to practice? Do you want me to take your virginity?"

  She hesitated. "I've lost my reputation now. Everyone will expect that I'm... that I'm not..."

  "But what do you want, Char?"

  She sighed. It was a quiet exhale, a breath that he felt rather than heard. "I want to keep that part of me pure right now."

  "Very well," he said. Then he gently disentangled their hands and drew his fingers up her arm.

  Her body was exquisite, her trust in him divine. The moonlight made her skin glow like the finest pearl, the stars sparkled in her eyes, and the evening air became perfumed with her sweet scent. She was the evening: the moon, the stars, even the sweet water that trickled nearby. When he touched her, he touched the world. When he kissed her, he kissed eternity. And when she began to vibrate with yin power, he knew he could bring her to Heaven.

  And with every caress, every kiss, and every gasping moment, he felt eternally blessed.

  In this fashion, they passed every day and night until they arrived in Peking.

  Triple Happiness! Great fortune!

  A son is born to Wen Gao Jin!

  Joyous celebration! Heaven's blessing!

  (Attached, a bill for expenses dated November 19,1895. It includes expenses for the midwife, child's clothing, and the fourteen-day birth celebration, already completed one week before.)

  Acupressure can be used as an adjunct therapy in the treatment of migraine pain and the underlying cause of this physical disturbance. First, massage your head as if shampooing your hair. Second, place your thumbs underneath the base of the skull on either side of the spinal column. Tilt your head back slightly and press upward for two minutes while breathing deeply.

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  Chapter 16

  Charlotte had never been in Peking. She'd never seen the dragon tiles that decorated the Forbidden City, never even conceived of the huge pagoda temples that punctured the landscape, but she recognized wealth when she saw it. And she knew the neighborhood they drove through had to be one of the very best.

  "Who lives here, Ken Jin?" she whispered from beneath her coolie hat.

  "Wen family son number one," he answered in the Chinese style. When she frowned, he elaborated. "My older brother, Gao Jin. Not the acupuncturist."

  The eunuch, then. "But I thought they all lived inside the Forbidden City serving the Emperor."

  "Most do. My brother was honored for exceptional service."

  She remembered. "For killing those missionaries—"

  "No," he corrected, though his tone remained cold. "For bringing the news."

  She rolled her eyes. As if any simple messenger would be so honored. "Is he a Boxer?" She had heard stories of those revolutionaries. Joanna saw them as the Chinese form of freedom fighters, but Charlotte wasn't so sure. They seemed to have a great deal of antiwhite sentiment. It could be dangerous for her to—

  "I will keep you safe." His quiet words soothed her even before she realized she was worried.

  She smiled and took his hand. He returned her grip, and they continued riding behind the slowest donkey in China. "So, your brother was given permission to live outside the Forbidden City," she said after a few minutes.

  "He was given an honorary bride and a son."

  She started. "A son? But how? If he's a eunuch..."

  "A member of the family assisted on his wedding night."

  She twisted to stare at him. "Assisted? As in... as in took over the marital rights?"

  "Yes." His voice was very stiff.

  It took her a moment. They had spent the entire trip learning about one another, and she had done all but surrender her virginity as they explored every detail of each other's bodies and souls. But even so, Ken Jin was still a hard man to read. It was harder still for Charlotte to accept this new truth.

  "You did it. My God," she breathed. "You have a son."

  "My brother has a son. I merely..."

  "Assisted." She didn't know how she felt about that. She'd known Ken Jin for a decade, and yet every day she discovered something new. A son! Despite the discomfort, some part of her softened at the thought of a baby Ken Jin with bright eyes and those cute, chubby little fists. "I bet he's wonderful," she said. "And you have an heir."

  He turned to stare at her, his express
ion cold. "My brother has an heir, as is appropriate. He should have—"

  "Enough with the should haves." She couldn't help rolling her eyes. "You can't spend your life making amends for something that happened when you were eight."

  "In China, generations can pay for the actions of a single man."

  She let out an exasperated sigh. "And I felt burdened by caring for William every day," she muttered. "You bear the weight of generations. No wonder you never smile."

  He was busy turning the donkey down another lane, but still managed to shoot her a hard look. A month ago, she would have thought his stare disapproving, but now she saw the sparkle in his eye and the slightest curve to his lips. He wasn't annoyed with her, he was amused but too restrained to show it. "I never smiled because I didn't know you," he said.

  "La, sir," she trilled to cover her surprise, "are you flirting with me?"

  He squeezed her hand as his smile broadened and his gaze intensified. "I am saying that I feel richly blessed. These last days, Char..." His voice faded as he struggled for the words. "I will remember them for the rest of my life."

  She swallowed, instinctively flinching away from any thought of the future. So she focused on the present—on the sunlight as it lit the black velvet of his hair, on the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled at her, and on the curve of his lips, the strength of his hands, and the joy she felt when they were together.

  "I love you, Ken Jin." The words were out before she truly understood their meaning, before she even labeled the emotion swelling inside her. But once said, she did not regret them. If nothing else, they would both know what she felt.

  She waited in silence, aware that he was shocked. His hands went slack. His eyes were dark, his gaze steady. So steady that he couldn't be breathing.

  "It's not because of... because of what we've been doing," she stammered, to fill the silence. "I love it, but I don't love you because of that. It's because of you, of who you are and how I feel when I'm with you."

  He blinked. Then he took a sudden, deep breath. "I understand, Miss Charlotte."

  "Miss Charlotte?" Disappointment blew through her body. "What happened to Char?"

  He turned to look at her. "Char, then," he whispered. There was a wealth of meaning behind his tone, but she didn't understand it.

  "Ken Jin—"

  He kissed her then, swift and hard, right there on the street for all to see. She softened into it immediately. Her lips clung to his and her mouth slipped open, but he was already drawing away. She was left touching empty air, and she flushed in embarrassment.

  "You do me a great honor," he said, his words obviously heartfelt; and yet she felt flat. Crushed, even.

  " 'A great honor,'" she echoed weakly. No words of love. No...

  "You are upset," he said. Now his voice was unsteady; now he showed an emotion other than shock. He'd moved on to confused.

  "Men usually say they love you back." She sighed. "Even if they don't mean it."

  Ken Jin drew the donkey cart to a stop before a grand building. When he spoke, it was to the space between the donkey's ears. "A eunuch loves no one but the Emperor. To say otherwise is blasphemy."

  "You're not a eunuch yet," she snapped. She knew she was covering her hurt with anger, but she couldn't stop herself.

  Then he turned, and she saw the torment in his eyes. "I am already sterilized, Miss Charlotte. In my mind, I have already committed myself to this act." He waited a moment longer. She thought he had more to say, that he had something important to tell her. But he looked away. "We have arrived at last," he said to the donkey.

  She looked up to see a grand gate entrance with thick red doors flanked by drum stones topped by dragon heads. Old men played Go and smoked across the street, but here all had an imposing silence. Even the trees didn't rustle and they barely provided shade from the glaring afternoon light.

  Ken Jin tended the donkey, setting up food and water for it right in the street, while Charlotte did her best to fluff her hair. There was no appearing respectable, not when she wore creased pants and a threadbare tunic, but she didn't want to frighten Ken Jin's son. Then she heard the old men hiss and curse behind her. She turned, wondering what was wrong, only to watch them making signs of protection as they glared at her.

  She understood immediately, and covered her hair. Her white skin had darkened after days in the sunlight, but not enough to appear anything but what she was: a ghost woman in Chinese Peking.

  The old men's rancor gained in ferocity. Ken Jin was at her side in a moment. He stood between her and the men, even while aiming her inside. The gate was open—probably to catch what minimal breeze whispered down this ancient lane—and so she easily climbed the three steps up and slipped through, skirting around the screen designed to deflect wandering spirits. Ken Jin joined her a moment later, his face set in a tight frown.

  "Will Yi-tou be all right?" she whispered, using her pet name for the donkey.

  He nodded. "I have told those men we are on the Emperor's business."

  She gestured to his ragged pants and dirty shirt. "Did they believe you?"

  He shook his head. "No, but they will not take the chance of being wrong."

  She would have said more, but household servants had appeared. Only one was supposed to greet them—a rather large and imposing butler—but a kitchen maid and an upstairs maid peered goggle-eyed around the corner as well. Ken Jin did not give any of them the time to speak.

  "Tell my brother that Ken Jin is here to see him."

  The butler paused, and Charlotte got to watch a Chinese butler show disdain. The English sniff and step haughtily away; the Chinese spit. And if they cannot—as this man obviously could not do to his master's brother—then they act as if they would spit. He pursed his lips and scrunched his face. He paused, as if deciding what to do.

  "Now, dog, or I shall have you whipped!" Ken Jin's low voice carried clearly through the courtyard. Everyone scurried away, even the maids. Then Ken Jin turned to Charlotte. She saw a note of warning in his eyes, but again there was no time to speak as a young boy came bellowing into the courtyard from the inner quarters.

  "Aie-yi-yi-yi-yi!" He punctuated each of his squeals with a tiny jump over the courtyard steps. Following behind him in a breathless flurry of skirts came one woman and two maids, obviously playing Follow the Leader.

  "Aie-yi-yi," one of them gasped. As she was dressed better than the other ladies and had tiny bound feet, Charlotte guessed her to be the boy's mother. The others were just pretending to hop. Though they had natural feet, they appeared too tired to play earnestly.

  The boy spun around and aimed a colored toy stick at the women. "You didn't make the call!"

  "Aie-yi-yi-yi," they responded in the dullest voices possible.

  He nodded with the confidence of a born tyrant. "Keep doing so! And remember to hop."

  "But, little master," his mother gasped, "it is very hard on my tiny feet." Indeed she clearly struggled, one hand on the wall as she descended the steps into the courtyard. She also glanced nervously at Charlotte and Ken Jin, but her words were for her son. "Let your mother—"

  "Am I not the master here?" he bellowed. "You will obey! Obey! Obey! Obey!"

  Charlotte drew back in surprise, especially as the child screwed up his face in preparation of a first-class tantrum. Obviously this was the number-one son—Ken Jin's son—but she'd never seen so ill-behaved a boy in all Shanghai. Certainly not one who disrespected his mother with such ferocity.

  To her shock, the mother and the maids prostrated themselves before the boy. "Little master, little master!" they cried. "Do not upset yourself. You will do yourself harm. Little master!"

  "That is enough!" Ken Jin snapped in a tone Charlotte had never heard him use before. She whipped her head around and nearly jumped when she saw the dark red flush to his features. "You will present yourself as an obedient young man!" His voice rang through the courtyard and cut off the child's tantrum midwail. All eyes flew t
o Ken Jin as he strode forward to glare down at the boy. His fists were planted firmly on his hips, and he stood as only a truly powerful man could.

  The boy's jaw went slack, and he clearly had no idea what to do. He looked to his mother and her maids, but they were of no help. As they were already on their knees, the women remained there in silence, waiting for the boy's cue—an odd state of affairs given that the child couldn't be more than five years old.

  In the end, Ken Jin took pity. "I am Wen Ken Jin, and I am your father's brother." His voice had softened for the introduction, and Charlotte saw that he had tender feelings for the child though they'd obviously never met.

  Charlotte watched understanding slide through the boy's frame. His gaze fell on her and he straightened; but not to bow. Instead, he screwed up his tiny face and screeched, "Bastard Ken Jin and his white whore!" Then he spat—twice—once at each of their feet before dashing away, around the guest hall, presumably toward the children's chambers. With another quick flutter of skirts, the three women rushed after him.

  Ken Jin didn't move. He stood frozen to the spot, but not Charlotte. She was already rushing forward—right after the twittering maids—to stop the child. No one, not even a spoiled first son, should ever act so horrid to his own father, and certainly not in China where family was everything. But she was stopped by a booming laugh from the center doorway of the guest hall. It wasn't deep, simply loud in the silence left by the rude boy, and Charlotte turned to face her first eunuch-turned-mandarin.

  He was large, not in height but because of his voluminous clothing and fatty body. He had a round face, round hands, and a round body all draped in richly embroidered silks. He was laughing in cheerful good humor, though true joy never reached his deep-set black eyes. "Children play such funny tricks, and Hong Fa has such a quick mind. He has become quite sure of himself."

  "He is rude and must be whipped," Ken Jin replied. "How can you allow—"

  "I will see to the discipline of my son," the mandarin shot back. Anger quickly overwhelmed his false humor. "And no beggar will ever instruct me."