This dazzled Robert. He was in complete disarray. It took an effort to breathe.
“If you aren’t pleased because I don’t have full breasts yet,” she said with determination, “I promise that they’ll grow to the size of tomatoes in a few months. I’m not lying. See, these nipples were not like this a few weeks ago.” She fondled a nipple. It hardened and stood at attention. “The captain wasn’t bothered. He liked them.”
Robert shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You will discover that I’m good. I’ll keep your bed warm. I’ll cook for you. I’ll clean your clothes and keep your house in order. I’ll make sure that none of your servants cheat you.”
It would have been a lie to say that he wasn’t tempted. He didn’t know if he had the strength to resist his lust.
This desirable young virgin was offering herself to him, and Ayaou belonged to another man. Robert had promised to make Ayaou his concubine. He’d followed through with that promise when he made the offer to her father. He had no control over what Chou Luk had done with Ayaou.
Robert resented what had happened, but what could he do to change the circumstances? Ward had an army. An image of Ward devouring Ayaou entered his mind, which put his heart through the torture of chi-lin, the thousand cuts.
On the other hand, it wasn’t as if he was going to lose Ayaou completely. Having Shao-mei in his life was God’s way to make up for his loss. In this younger sister, there was a shadow of Ayaou. They were like twin trees in the forest—both unique but still alike.
His eyes drifted back up to Shao-mei’s face. She smiled and lovely dimples appeared on her cheeks. However, her eyes looked puffy because of her recent tears. What had Patridge done to her? Groaning, Robert closed his eyes and rolled over to face the bulkhead. There were two images in his mind now—Ayaou and Shao-mei.
He tried to convince himself that Ayaou had given herself to him last night for a reason. She knew that they might not be together. He’d been her first choice. Robert shouldn’t consider it a betrayal by taking her sister as his concubine. In fact, he’d be doing her family a service. Shao-mei would be protected instead of exploited and abandoned. He’d never share her with another man. However, as good as these reasons sounded, his conscience refused to buy them.
The bunk creaked as Shao-mei slipped into the narrow space between the outer edge and Robert. Her arms snaked around his body. She pulled herself as close to him as she could. Her naked skin touched his, which aroused him further. He listened to the sound of her breathing.
Robert’s erection was so hard that the skin on the end of his member felt as if it were going to split like a ripe plum while his heart drummed wildly inside his chest.
“Let’s sleep now,” Robert said, turning toward the wall.
She squeezed closer to him. Her naked body was like a spoon pressed against his body. Oh, Dear God, help me, he prayed. Give me the strength to resist this desire.
Shao-mei sighed and physically relaxed. Soon her breathing developed a steady, slow rhythm. She’d fallen asleep. Robert was relieved.
His left side was turning numb. He wanted to roll over but feared waking her. Carefully, slowly, he moved until his weight was off his left arm. When he finished, he was on his right side facing her. Without a sound, she threw an arm across his torso. He gasped and held his breath for a few heartbeats. The arm was slender and long and ended in a delicate hand with lovely fingers. Each nail on each finger was perfectly shaped. It was a hand meant to be held by a lover. He had an urge to lift the hand to his lips and kiss each fingertip, but he resisted. He traced the blue line of a vein back toward her shoulder.
Next, he studied her face. It was a smaller version of Ayaou’s with orchid-leaf eyebrows and water chestnut shaped lips. She slept so soundly that she didn’t stir when he accidentally touched her chin. Since his touch didn’t wake her, he ran a finger along her cheek where her skin was smooth like warm glass. When he felt the beast stirring in his loins, he yanked his hand away from her as if he’d burned himself.
Robert closed his eyes and concentrated on something mundane like a long day at work poring over paperwork checking manifests from outbound and inbound cargoes. It didn’t work. He couldn’t get the image of her arm and her face out of his mind. He wanted so much to touch her.
He opened his eyes and looked at her again. This reminded him of a Chinese story he’d read. It was about a large family with eight sisters all married to one master. The story portrayed harmony, which was the key for the family’s survival. Robert thought the story was fake—especially the part where the master was attracted to every one of the girls and took turns to spread his affection evenly. The master had written poems to praise each of his women. To Chinese scholars his most famous poem was the one he wrote for his fifth lady, who died of a sickness. The tragedy brought on by her death must have been the reason it was famous. Robert mentally recited the poem to get his mind off Shao-mei. This time the distraction worked.
‘The maid gently closes the gate
I watch the river from above
Many sails pass
I see no sign of my love
The slanting sunrays cast a lingering glow
The broad water in it continues to flow
The islet with its plots of white flowers in bloom
Each and all contribute to my utter gloom.’
Robert wished Ayaou were here. He was tempted to tell Shao-mei that he loved her sister. He wouldn’t send Shao-mei back to Patridge, but she had to know that Robert’s love belonged to Ayaou. Tomorrow he’d talk to Shao-mei. He’d make her understand.
What a strange land China was. His mind calmed; his desire faded, and his beast slept.
Chapter 7
It’s amazing how deep you can sleep when trying to avoid a quandary.
“Wake up, Robert! I believe you owe me fifty yuan.”
Robert’s eyes opened. It took a moment to focus. Then Captain Patridge’s fuzzy face appeared.
“I see that Shao-mei achieved what I intended,” Patridge said.
“What’s this about fifty yuan?” Robert said, struggling to think. “Half of eighty is forty.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Somehow, while he slept, Shao-mei, still nude, had moved inside against the bulkhead with her back turned toward him. The curve of her naked back was a magnet.
She stirred, rolled over and their eyes met. She giggled. Robert smiled and pinched her cheek. “Put your clothes on,” he said. Having her get dressed was for him—not Patridge. Robert couldn’t recall having seen anything so lovely in his life. His fingers tingled to explore.
“But you haven’t made me your concubine,” she said in a whisper, eyeing Captain Patridge with fear over Robert’s shoulder.
“He doesn’t need to know. Once I pay for you, you’re mine.” She was going to be his property. The idea shocked him. The possibilities were endless. Lewd visions flickered across his mind. He blushed. Clearing his throat, he picked up her clothes and thrust them at her. “Get dressed!” His voice sounded scratchy with emotion. His stomach was queasy again. Robert wondered if this would make him happy. He’d made promises. Memories of what happened in the root cellar with Ayaou were still fresh. He turned to Captain Patridge. “How did half of eighty become fifty?”
The captain shrugged. “Can you blame a man for wanting to make a profit?” Robert waited in silence. “All right,” Patridge said. “Forty-five.”
“Forty-two and I don’t have it on me. You will have to accept a note drawn on my Hong Kong account.”
There had been a moment when Robert considered letting him keep Shao-mei. Now he didn’t want Patridge touching her, and he didn’t like the way he was looking at her. There was something filthy about it.
“A note will be sufficient,” Patridge replied.
“Then let’s complete the transaction. I’m sure you have paper and ink.”
Patridge appraised Shao-mei, who was standing beside Robert with her
naked back exposed to him while she dressed. The captain’s eyes shifted back to Robert. “You should work for me,” he said. “You know how to bargain. I pay better than the government.”
Robert glanced at Shao-mei, and his breath stuck in his throat. What was taking her so long to dress? He couldn’t stop his beastly thoughts from going where they wanted. “Hurry and get dressed!” He lashed out as if his tongue were a whip. She turned timidly and looked as if she were about to burst into tears.
He leaned toward her and whispered so Patridge couldn’t hear. “I’m not angry with you, child. I’m angry with myself.” She looked confused. Robert hoped that his Mandarin was understandable—that he hadn’t botched the translation.
“She was that good, huh,” Patridge said. His eyes were glued on her. “We should renegotiate the price.”
“Not a chance, Captain,” Robert replied, stiffness creeping into his voice. “Give me the paper, and I’ll write the note to my bank.”
Patridge looked doubtful. “You know what, Robert, I regret selling her to you. Her sister Lan was stiff as a chopstick.”
“If you’re unhappy with Lan,” Robert said, wanting to save both sisters, “how about selling her to me at a discount? I’ll pay thirty-eight for her. After all, having intercourse with a chopstick can’t be enjoyable.” It was difficult keeping the scorn out of his voice.
The captain’s eyebrows lifted, and he studied Robert. “Greedy aren’t you,” he replied. “No, I’ll save Lan as an investment. After I train her, her value will increase.”
“Keep my offer in mind if you have second thoughts.”
“Are you interested in all my concubines?”
“No, just the two.”
Patridge laughed. “I suspect you’ve come out on top on this one, and I mean that literally.”
“You’ve no idea.” He felt his face turn hot. The desire he felt for the girl had to be obvious. It was better that Patridge saw it as lust instead of contempt for the captain’s way of life. Robert had already made an enemy with Unwyn; he didn’t need two men hating him.
“Damn, I sold her too cheap,” Patridge said.
“The paper please.”
Patridge went to the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, a pen and a bottle of ink. “Tell me what it was like.”
“What are you talking about?” Robert replied.
“Did you have a good time? Did you enjoy making love to her?”
“A gentleman doesn’t tell stories,” Robert said, but he didn’t feel like one. He felt like a cad. He remembered how close he had come to taking her virginity as he had already taken Ayaou’s. He wasn’t any better than a thief was.
He took the paper and with a shaking hand wrote a note directing his bank in Hong Kong to pay Captain Dan Patridge seven pounds. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that is equal to forty-two yuan.” With the pen poised above the paper, Robert looked up. “My offer for Lan is still good. I can write fourteen pounds as easily as seven.”
“No,” Patridge said. “I’m keeping her.”
Robert wondered if he were trying to be a Don Quixote. A book he read in its original Spanish. Had he fallen into the trap Miguel de Cervantes had written about in 1605? Was he chasing windmills trying to save Shao-mei and her younger sister? Was he acting the fool? Was Shao-mei his Dulcinea? Was he that blind? Well, he wasn’t crazy, or at least he hoped not. He didn’t think he was a Don Quixote.
Then Robert remembered something William Lay had said during a conversation in Shanghai a year before. “Robert, my father believed that we Westerners have a great ability for getting and making more things, but we don’t get much enjoyment from them. The Chinese, on the other hand, focus on enjoying the few things they have, and one of those things is women. China is a man-centered universe where the women have one primary purpose—to provide happiness for men in ways we could never imagine.”
William had described a savage ordeal of how Han women had their feet bound as children to please men. It was an agonizing procedure because the bones had to be broken during the process. Some of the girls died.
Robert glanced at Shao-mei. He stared at her normal sized feet. Seeing them boosted his mood. In fact, she had graceful feet. He was glad she hadn’t suffered from the pain of foot binding. Then he looked at her face and was reminded of how lovely she was. He didn’t like what he was starting to think. It bothered him that his flesh was so weak. He forced his eyes back to the paper. He blew it dry and handed it to Patridge. They shook hands to seal the bargain. Robert decided he would do what was right for Shao-mei and save Ayaou if a chance presented itself. He’d not give up easily. Not like Quixote had. Besides, Don Quixote would have been lost in China. The dragons here were supposed to be friendly creatures.
“All right, let’s complete our business,” Patridge said. A look of lust and envy appeared in his eyes. He glanced at the bunk bed where Robert and Shao-mei had slept. Robert felt his face twisting itself into a mask of disgust, which he struggled to control. He wanted to tell Patridge to keep his eyes off her.
“I came to get you. Tonight General Ward is having a dinner and a strategy session at his house with the officers of his army. Tomorrow he’ll march out of the city to take back Sungkiang from the rebels. If he pulls this off, he will be in favor with the Imperial court in Peking. I want to take advantage of this moment to start a business relationship with the rascal.”
“I understand.” Robert reached for his boots. Shao-mei, who was now dressed, knelt and slipped them onto his feet. Although she was putting his boots on him, her eyes were fastened on his face as if he were a book that she wanted to read.
Having her dressed didn’t help him. Her outfit was so skimpy and sexy, that he was mad with desire to get her clothes back off and run his tongue over her naked body. His expression must have given his thoughts away, because she looked startled and quickly finished lacing the boots with fumbling fingers. Forgive me, Lord, Robert thought. He was a starving beast trapped with a delicious meal that he dare not eat. Robert stood and allowed her to finish dressing him.
It occurred to him that if he had dinner at Ward’s house, he might see Ayaou again. He found five yuan in his pocket and gave it to Shao-mei. “Buy something else to wear that covers better and keep any money you have left for emergencies.”
Remembering that Patridge was still there, Robert decided to stage a show. He leaned forward and kissed Shao-mei on the mouth. He made sure it was a long kiss, and he couldn’t resist slipping his tongue between her sweet lips. She stiffened, and her body twisted to the side like a chicken on a market scale being weighed with its wings and feet tied together. He steadied her by putting both hands on her hips, but touching her aroused him again.
Captain Patridge burst out laughing. “Now I know I was cheated.”
Chapter 8
Had Robert heard Patridge right when the captain said they were on their way to see the Son of Heaven?
“Before we go to Ward’s,” Patridge said, “you will meet this man. He is looking for a first-class interpreter.”
Didn’t they call the Emperor of China the Son of Heaven? Robert thought. “I’m not exactly fluent,” he said. “Who am I to talk to the Son of Heaven? Even Sir John Bowring, the governor of Hong Kong, hasn’t met him yet.”
“You’re not listening, Robert. It’s not the Son of Heaven. It’s Prince Kung, the brother of the Emperor, the true manager of the Imperial court. He has come from Peking to deal with the problems caused by the foreign powers. He wants someone that knows several languages fluently to interpret for him. We are on our way to a house near the waterfront.”
“That doesn’t tell me about the location,” Robert said. “Where exactly is this house we are going to?”
“It is in the walled section of the Chinese City where he’s interviewing people for the position.”
He wasn’t happy that Captain Patridge had arranged this audience with Prince Kung without warning him. “How did you manage it?�
� he asked.
“I asked the governor of Shanghai, Robert,” Patridge replied, “When you see the prince, don’t be shocked. He looks young. Do you know how old the Emperor is?”
“No, but I suspect he’s an old man with a long white beard.”
“Wrong. The Emperor is twenty-four.” Robert couldn’t help thinking of Guan-jiah and how young the eunuch was. Could the Emperor of China and his servant, who recited Confucian philosophy, be so close in age?
When they reached the house, Robert was ushered into Prince Kung’s office and guided to a chair. The ink strokes of a Chinese calligraphy hanging on the wall were thick like the trunk of an old dead tree. The massive rosewood desk had intricately carved legs that looked like dragons. The dragon tails touched the floor and the heads supported the thick slab top. The serpents’ eyes stared at Robert as if he were something to eat. A huge ceramic pot sat in a corner with a thick clot of yellowing bamboo growing from it.
A servant brought tea. The prince was slim with a pair of penetrating eyes and a scrawny mustache. His head was shaved bald except for his queue, a strand of braided hair that fell from the back of his skull to his waist. He wore a gold-laced robe embroidered with stars and blue-green ocean waves. Long strands of beads made of jewels and jade and other colorful ornaments hung from his neck. He was dressed like an emperor, but he looked so young—almost like a boy. Even Guan-jiah looked older.
After tea, Prince Kung leaned forward and stared into Robert’s eyes. “Do you know the difference between the verses of the Tang Dynasty and Sung Dynasty and the style of ruling between Han-ti, the Emperor of the Han Dynasty and Nurhachi, his ancestor, the founding Emperor of the Ch’ing Dynasty?”
Robert fumbled for answers—his Chinese pronunciations clumsy. The room felt small. The blood color of the walls was dark and menacing. It was as if the walls were a vise closing on him. This was more difficult than a simple conversation in the vegetable market. It took an effort not to run from the house.
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