by Jade Lee
He did not deny it, and he continued, his voice filling the small room with sounds of his pain. "It was then my father called upon me. He had been hurt..."
"His leg."
He nodded. "He needed his son to take care of the body. He called upon my duty as his son. He demanded it as a father demands from his only child."
She closed her eyes, not wanting to hear the rest, but unable to keep herself from asking. "What did you do?"
He shifted to see her more fully, his face echoing the blank confusion of that time so long ago. "The Englishman was already dead. And to refuse my father then would have ended everything between us. Besides, what did I care about a barbarian's honor? If it were not for him, my family would still have been whole. My mother would be alive."
She tightened her grip on him. "What did you do?" she pressed.
"I carried the body to the red garden area. Behind..." He swallowed, his gaze slipping from hers. "Very near to a place where I first found you," he said, clearly uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had found her in a brothel. "I left him there. The stench of liquor covered him. He was in a violent area of Shanghai. No one ever questioned it." He turned to her then, his body slumping forward into her arms. "Even Shi Po does not know the full truth. She believes I defended my father as any filial son would and so killed a barbarian."
He shuddered, his body curling in his pain. "To everyone else, it is over. A barbarian is dead, an unfaithful wife's honor is kept pure, and a son remained loyal to his father."
"Everyone except you," she whispered. "You know it was all wrong."
He did not answer her, or perhaps he couldn't. Instead, he gripped her tighter, speaking to her heart as if that could redeem him. "They haunt me," he murmured. "My mother and her sea captain. They haunt me in the way true lovers haunt those who harmed them."
She leaned down, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. "There are no ghosts, Ru Shan. Only guilt and pain."
He lifted his head, his mouth curved in a sick smile. "There are ghosts in China, my Lydia. Mistreated parents, doomed lovers, even lost children—they all wander my country to torment those who hurt them. How else can they have their revenge?"
"Then perhaps you should leave China. So they cannot find you anymore."
She could tell he was shocked by her suggestion. After all, he was the Cheng mountain, the one his entire family depended upon to be all that was good and proper in this strange land. And a true son of China did not leave his native land.
But what if the true son was dying here? What if his soul sickened every day that he lived in a family twisted by traditions that were completely unwholesome?
"What will happen, Ru Shan? If you stay here, what will happen to you?"
His body shifted slightly, and she knew he was thinking of her words. "I must find a way to make the store profitable."
"So that your father will have gold and your grandmother will have opium?"
"So my son will have something to honor and a place to grow into adulthood."
She nodded, thinking of his son. All she remembered was a small, quiet boy who had watched everything with a seriousness well beyond his years. "You can make another place for him, Ru Shan. You can create a new home. One that isn't—"
"I cannot leave!"
His anguished cry startled her. She had never heard him so desperate. It was as if he truly knew, deep within himself, that he had wanted this from the very beginning.
"What do you want, Ru Shan?" she asked softly, not understanding where the words came from but knowing they were correct. "Do you wish to uphold the honor of a corrupt family? Of a tradition that married you to your father's lover?" He flinched at that, but did not disagree, and so she knew she had guessed correctly again. "Do you wish to struggle hard just to support a grandmother's habit? And all the while, you pursue your own desires secretly. You hide your dragon practices and take a white woman as your hidden lover. Is this how you want to live?"
He looked at her, his anguish raw. She reached forward, pressing his lips to hers despite his stiffness. And when she pulled back, it was barely enough to allow her room to speak, praying that he understood.
"Do you want me to stay with you? To fashion your designs? To be your second wife?" She didn't know if she could do it. She didn't know if she loved him enough to survive such a path, but she had to ask. She had to know if he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.
"I love you, Ru Shan." She knew that now, knew that she loved him to the depths of her soul despite the problems between them. "I can try to be your second wife. If you want it."
"You would hate it," he answered, the words rasping. "And I have already hurt you too much. Over and over."
She swallowed, her heart breaking for the words he did not say. Did he love her? Was he denying himself as much as her? "Ru Shan," she tried again. "What do you want?"
He did not want to answer, but she forced him. She lifted his chin, pulling his gaze to her eyes. Only then did she see her answer. Only then could she read the love and pain mixed in his gaze.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
"You," he answered, the one word seeming to come from his entire body. "Only you."
And then there were no more words. Only his lips on hers, his hands on her body.
She went willingly into his embrace, needing his touch, his kiss. But as he quickly pulled her coolie top off her body, she felt a strange difference in him. Gone were the practiced techniques of dragon and tigress. Gone was the steady stroke to raise her yin and control his yang. Instead, his movements were frantic. He touched her breasts, barely pulling them to their peak before his mouth was upon her, sucking her nipple with a hungry desperation.
She began to tense, fearing this new, tumultuous Ru Shan, and yet she was responding as if he had already spent hours preparing her body. As his mouth began to pull at her breast, her yin flowed full and ready, the tingling current already heating her body as it rushed to satisfy Ru Shan. Her nipple actually seemed to crackle with power as his tongue stroked and pulled its peak. Her other breast as well began to pulse with the strokes.
She gasped out in surprise as his other hand began stroking her. It was not the measured circles she was used to, but the caress of a man who could not have enough, who could not touch her enough. His whole hand, spread wide, extended over her full breast, slowly drawing in and up, as if pulling her toward him.
Once, twice, he stroked her in this manner, while on the other side, his tongue teased and twisted and tweaked. And then, abruptly, he switched sides, drawing her yin through the other breast, making her entire torso yearn for him, pulse with the pull of his breath, the nip of his teeth, and the flick of his tongue.
"Oh, yes," she cried, already plunging into the roaring ocean of yin that consumed her. With what little control she had left, she began pulling at Ru Shan's clothing. She wanted to touch his hot body and grasp his hardened muscles. She wanted to feel the stroke of flesh against flesh while his yang fire set her blood to boiling.
Her hands were not gentle as she stripped the clothing from him. Neither were his as he dragged off her coolie pants. Her cinnabar cave was already wet, and it took little prompting for him to spread her legs wide. His tongue stroked long, wet trails up her thighs and to her core.
She moved naturally into the pattern he had taught her. She twisted, bringing her mouth to his jade dragon, stroking its length with hand and lips and tongue. Touching his tightened dragon eggs behind, even pressing into the jen-mo spot. He mimicked her actions as well, opening her cinnabar cave with his thumbs while his tongue circled her yin pearl, her little dragon. With each pass of his tongue, her body tightened, the flow of yin rising higher and higher.
She was familiar with its path now, but never had the tide risen so high or fast. The flood hit with such power, such intensity, that she screamed her ecstasy. She was no longer afraid of drowning. She knew from experience that now was Ru Shan's time to drink. While her
body shuddered and convulsed from the flood, Ru Shan would place his mouth at her cave, drawing in her essence before concentrating on his own. When he had enough, he would sit back, breathing heavily as he fought his way toward Heaven and immortality. Then, when Lydia's flood receded enough for her to gain breath, she would shift, turning her focus on maintaining his yang fire. With touch and tongue, she would keep his dragon hot until he stepped into the Heavenly realm. Or—as had happened every time before—until he pulled away from her in frustration and failure.
So it was that even immersed in the tumultuous shuddering of her yin tide, she was already preparing the mental distance she needed to help Ru Shan. She wanted him to reach his goal; she wanted to give him that gift. But as she shifted, reaching for him, he abruptly pulled away.
"No," he practically growled, his breath hot where he pressed against the inside of her thigh. "No," he repeated more firmly as he shifted his body away from her.
Then, as she frowned, doing her best to focus on him, he began to shift. He kissed her belly and her navel. He pressed his mouth against her skin, using his tongue to stroke in a chaotic, ever-rising pattern.
Below, his thumbs continued to press rhythmically into her, while his long fingers tweaked her yin pearl.
"This is called plucking the yin lute," he murmured, and he began pulling at her breast once again. The sensation was incredible. Her body became his instrument—shuddering, trembling, humming with each pluck of her strings. The yin tide echoed his movements, which were taken up by his mouth as well. Each pluck of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, each pull of his lips against her nipple had her body singing in higher and higher notes.
Then he shifted again, his jade dragon a hot presence against her thigh. She felt the weight of his hips, pressing her down in the most wonderful way as his hands came to replace his mouth against her breasts.
Still her body continued to thrum, his hands keeping up the tempo of the song on her nipples.
"Ru Shan," she sobbed, amazed and enthralled. "What—"
"I want to give you it all, Lydia. I want to give you everything I am. I want you to use it, go to Heaven, become immortal as no white woman ever has. You can do it. I am sure of it. With all of my training, all of my essence, you can become what I have only dreamed of."
She struggled to comprehend his meaning, but he would not allow the yin tide to recede enough. All she could do was gasp out his name.
"I want this for you, Lydia," he continued. "But it will take your virginity. I cannot decide this for you. Lydia, do you understand?"
His hands slowed, eased their tempo, and slowly stopped. In the same way the waves eased and she was finally able to catch her breath in deep, gasping sobs.
"Lydia, will you let me give you all that I am? Will you let me?"
She blinked, at last understanding his meaning. "Ru Shan," she whispered, no conscious thought or control to her words. "I am your instrument. I am here for your path."
He shook his head. "You are not my pet, Lydia. You are no longer here to serve me." Then he leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her eyes, her nose, her cheek. "I am your servant, my Lydia. I will give you everything I am." He pressed his lips to hers and she opened beneath him. His tongue plunged into her mouth then withdrew, plunged deep again. With every push of his tongue, she felt the fire of a hot brand. It was his yang flowing into her, his power mixing with her own.
Then he pulled back. "Please, my Lydia. Let me give this to you."
She saw the need in his eyes, the yearning in his heart, and could deny him nothing. And yet, when she meant to say, "anything," her mouth asked something else entirely.
"Do you love me?"
"I have always loved you," he answered. Then his eyes widened in shock, as if he too had said something he had not intended. Slowly his expression softened, his lips curving into a joyous smile. "I do love you. I can feel the love in my heart. I know it when I look on you. Oh, Lydia, I can love!" Then he focused upon her. "I love you." There was such awe in his words that she could not doubt it. She stared at his face, mesmerized by the beauty love brought to his features. His eyes shimmered with it, his bones softened because of it, and his mouth curved into a smile that spread to his entire body. She could even feel the change where they were pressed together.
"May I love you?" he asked, and at last she was able to answer as she wished.
"You may take me anywhere you like, so long as we are together."
He grinned, dropping a swift kiss upon her lips. "Not together, my love. Not this time. This is only for you." Then he sobered. "I will go slowly to accustom you, but it still may hurt a little."
That is when she felt him. His jade dragon, breathing the fire of his yang, began to press into her cinnabar cave. He went only a tiny way, slowly pushing in before withdrawing, but she felt the heat of his presence like the lick of serpent fire. On a distant level, she remembered the exercises she'd performed with the carved dragon, pulling it in, holding it inside her. But he was no carved stone and she was no longer a frightened slave.
Again he began to press, pushing against her walls, widening them in the most interesting of sensations. Filling her as his hands never had, opening her as nothing else ever could. And all the while, she felt the heat of his yang, the lick of fire, the press of his power mixing into her.
"You are so strong," she whispered in awe. Never before had she felt his yang in this way. Never before had he focused it on her.
"Only with you," he answered. "I did not know love could make me so strong." Then he lowered his face again, taking her lips with steady, potent control, pressing into her above and below before once again withdrawing. "You have given me more than I ever imagined possible."
Once again he lowered his mouth to hers, once again he pressed his yang into her, deeper, harder, while the mixture of yin and yang in her blood expanded. Her body began to hum again, the yin tide rising, but this time with more power, more heat, more... more Ru Shan.
"Come with me," she whispered. "We are stronger together." She did not act consciously. She merely felt herself expand, her heart opening to allow her love to flow. It was like a cleansing river, encompassing them both, releasing the pain of their past, ignoring the confusion of the future. They were merely themselves, together and in love.
He was pushing deeper, against a barrier she had not known existed. And though she felt the hot press of his yang, she also felt his restraint, the trembling in his arms and the shuddering control of his breath.
She couldn't speak. She had no words and no breath to form them. She only knew she wanted nothing between them, no barriers, no restraint. And so she wrapped her legs around him, timing her pull with an arch of her back. And with one swift movement, she joined them together.
She didn't feel any pain. Or if she did, she didn't notice. What she felt instead was Ru Shan's yang fire explode past his control. He gasped out her name, but it was simply a sound and nothing compared to the inferno he released into her blood.
She cried out something as well. Perhaps it was his name, perhaps it was simply a joyous eruption of love and power. But as his jade dragon continued to convulse—fiery explosions of yang with every thrust—her yin tide began to surge. Higher and higher it rose, her body moving with his, her yin fusing with his yang.
On and on they went.
Together.
As one.
Until a beauty of light shimmered, surrounding them. It was both an explosion of magnificence and a quiet unfolding of wonder.
The veil parted, and hand in hand with Ru Shan, Lydia stepped into immortality.
By the accident of good fortune, one may rule the world for a time. But by virtue of love one lives forever.
—Tao Te Ching
~
Chapter 19
Ru Shan felt the veil lift, stunned amazement filling him even as he walked the familiar path. This walk had been for Lydia, not for him. He had given everything he had—all his yang, all his ex
perience, every moment of study and skill he had within him—to her. So that she would walk here, where she belonged, in Heaven with the Immortals. He had not expected to enter the antechamber instead of her.
But here he was, standing in the Chamber of a Thousand Swinging Lanterns, the antechamber to the Realm of the Immortals. As had happened three times before, he stood lost in awe as pinpoints of light danced before him, filling him with an indescribable joy. This was the farthest he had ever come, the journey a struggle and his greatest achievement. Never had he thought he could come here so easily and with a partner, as well.
He looked to his side, surprised to see Lydia beside him. And not surprised. After all, she had been the reason for this journey. Without her, he would never have found love. Never would have known that it was the true catalyst for immortality.
He turned to her, the thought creating the action since they had neither muscle nor bone here. This was the realm of the spirit, and so the merest thought would take him where he wished to be: beside her, looking at her, in love with her.
He expected to see ecstasy on her face. Instead, he saw peace and was enveloped in her joy, surrounded in her love—just as she was surrounded in his. Never could he have imagined a more perfect moment.
Until it became more.
The second veil lifted and, together, they stepped into Heaven—the realm of the Immortals. A golden palace surrounded him, and yet not of wood or stone. It was merely a shimmering of incredible light that filled his heart with awe. All about him walked the Immortals—male and female angels of such beauty that he could do little more than laugh.
Was he laughing?
He meant no disrespect, and yet he could not stop. And beside him, Lydia bubbled over with her own happiness, giggles of sound, melodic vibrations of gladness that mixed with his own to become a beautiful sound that fit this glorious place.
