Tempted Tigress

by Jade Lee

She shook her head. “I trust my husband.”

  Second Wife stared at her a long moment, then sighed in envy. “You are a fortunate woman.”

  Anna nodded, but the movement was uncertain. She had never thought of herself as fortunate—still didn’t—and yet, for one moment it was a delight to feel that what she pretended was true: Zhi-Gang loved her and would risk all to protect her.

  Still lost in uncertainty, she didn’t notice when Second Wife turned down the wrong hallway. The woman was halfway to the door before Anna caught up.

  “Where are you going?” she gasped. “My husband needs you in the receiving room.”

  Second Wife nodded, but her eyes focused on the gaps in the window lattice work. Anna was about to reprimand her again, but something in the woman’s narrowed gaze made her stare out the window instead. “What do you see?”

  “A boy. In the tree.”

  Anna nodded. “One of the soldiers. I thought he might be clothes stuffed in straw, but…” Even she could see that the soldier swung his leg back and forth in boredom.

  Second Wife snorted. “Might as well be straw. That’s Tseng’s first son, and a more useless boy never lived.”

  Anna took a step closer to the window, still keeping out of view. She inspected the man. Second Wife was right. He was very young, barely out of his teens, and—more important—without the hardened air of her father’s career mercenaries.

  An idea began to form. She pushed away the silly romantic feelings of a moment before and began to think for real. “This boy,” she pressed. “Will he talk to you? Will he listen to you?”

  Second Wife straightened her spine, her face splitting into a grin. “I could get that boy to sell his ancestral shrine.”

  Anna returned the smile. “Then by all means, let us go this way.”

  From Anna Marie Thompson’s journal:

  March 3, 1886

  I saw. I’m sixteen today and I saw what Father had to show me. Another boy went with me. He was a little older—a half white, half Chinese boy they call Halfy. He’s the son of a prostitute, and he had large hands and big eyes. He didn’t talk much. I think he’s shy, but we went together to celebrate my birthday with Father.

  We went to an opium den. Father owns it. He showed us how to measure it, how to boil it—everything. He told us the amount of money that he gets every day, and we watched while a customer lit his pipe. I couldn’t wait to taste it. I know how it feels! I knew and I thought we were there to smoke.

  But we watched this man smoke. He was tall and lanky for a Chinese, and his smile lit his entire body. One puff and his eyes began to sparkle, his hands lost their tremble, and all the bad things fell away from him. I could see the smoke work in him, and I remembered.

  Then Father—Samuel—asked him if it was good. “Very good” the man answered. Even his voice had changed. Instead of being high and nasal like before, it had dropped to a lower, sweeter tone. People are so much nicer when they’re smoking. I even sat down next to him on the bench because I thought I would get my turn.

  All the while, Samuel kept talking to the man, asking him about his last run. That’s what the man did for Samuel. He ran opium into the interior of China, to a governor in a province where white people weren’t allowed.

  He answered easily enough. He talked about how happy the governor was, how much money he paid, and all the details. Father had told me and Halfy to listen carefully, so I was very attentive. He said he’d test us on it afterwards. I listened and I remembered, and then, just when the man was about to talk about the governor’s wives, Samuel killed him. Stabbed him. Right through the heart. There wasn’t even really a rattle. More of a gasp, and the man was dead.

  Samuel pulled out the knife, wiped it on the man’s pants, and then ordered me and Halfy to carry the body out to the back. Halfy didn’t want to do it. He just stared at the body, his eyes huge and kinda watery. But I’ve worked in the mission hospital since I was seven. Dead bodies are nothing to me. Still, it was hard. He…the body was still warm and me had just been talking to him.

  He was really heavy. Halfy went to get the wheelbarrow, but he wanted me to lift the body into it. At least I didn’t have to strip the body. Halfy did that. And he did it so fast, I’m pretty sure he’d done it before. Not strip a dead body. But a drunk? Probably. It doesn’t matter. Halfy did that, and then together we got the body into the wheelbarrow. Samuel walked with us to the river where we dumped it in.

  “Just another dead Chinese,” Samuel said. “There are lots of dead people who float down this river. Women, men, white or yellow or something in between.”

  I swallowed. I think I would have thrown up if I didn’t have a question just bursting to get out. Samuel waited. He knew what I wanted to ask, what both me and Halfy wanted to know. Finally, I just said it.

  “Why? Why would you kill your own runner?”

  “Because he smoked it” Samuel said. “He was late delivering became he was smoking. He came back with too little money because he’d been smoking.”

  “But you want us to taste it” I said. I don’t know when I got so bold. The runner had seemed like such a nice man and… and I don’t know. It didn’t seem fair. “You want us to celebrate with the customers! You’ve said so!”

  Samuel looked at me hard, and there was no trace of the man I call Father. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to make me shiver. Even now, remembering it, I am still afraid.

  “A good runner can make a fortune” he said. “A bad runner dies.”

  I understood then what he wanted us to know, life outside the mission has its own set of rules. Break them and die.

  I understood. And more than that, I had already made my decision. “I will take his route”! said.

  I know I surprised him. He raised his eyebrows and smiled—slow and sweet, like a man who suddenly sees his child for the first time. I have seen that at the mission, so I know what it looks like. Samuel looked at me just like that, and it was better than opium.

  “I will run for you, Father” I said. “And I will be the best runner you’ve ever had.”

  But as they have no mode of raising money for the expenses of war unless from the drug sales in China, we think [the British government] cannot avoid giving it some toleration.

  —Memo to associate by opium trader James Matheson, 1840

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zhi-Gang listened closely for a noise—a shuffle, a whisper, something—coming from behind the women’s screen. Nothing. Anna was not there yet. And his belly clenched in fear that she would take this opportunity to escape. She would slip out behind the compound—and be caught by these men.

  He swallowed, forcing his thoughts to the present. He could not stop her from choosing a wrong path, a deadly path. And anyway, he would be much better off without a white “wife.” Or so he told himself as he slumped his shoulders and tried to look benign. If these bastards recognized him as the Emperor’s Enforcer, there would be no hesitation. They would kill him on sight.

  First Wife was wailing loud enough to make his eyeballs hurt. Fortunately, that only helped Zhi-Gang appear more sickly. The invading men had bullied themselves inside to look at the governor’s body: five thick-armed brutes with short earlobes and scrunched faces. To counteract the evil fortune in their faces, they had obviously become killers for someone even uglier and more brutal than they.

  Zhi-Gang shifted his attention to the leader of the little band. The largest of them all, a half-white, half-Chinese bastard, he had stooped shoulders and a dark intelligence in the small eyes below his thick forehead. He carried a sword at his side, but his meaty fists were all that were needed to intimidate Madame Bai. Zhi-Gang cursed himself again for not arriving earlier to the First Wife’s side. By the time he’d made it to the front hall, she had opened their only defense against these brutes and led them inside. They claimed, of course, that they merely wished to see the body, then would leave. Only Madame Bai believed the lies.

  Now Zhi-Gang w
aited for the best time to appear, all the while listening for Anna. She still wasn’t here. In truth, there was no reason for her to witness these brutes intimidating Madame Bai while they inspected the governor’s body; he merely wanted Anna nearby so he could protect her. So he knew she was safe. But she was not here, and he could not delay much longer.

  The half-white leader had already taken out a dagger to poke and cut at the body. Abused wife or not, Madame Bai could not allow such desecration.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” she screeched. “Curses on you for doing such a thing to my husband! May his ghost—”

  Her words were cut off by an abrupt slap across the face that sent her reeling into an incense brazier. Zhi-Gang was through the divider in time to catch her and stomp out the ashes before the entire building burned down around their ears.

  “How dare you do such a thing!” he wheezed. “Where is your respect for the dead? Your fear of his ghost?”

  First Wife was sniffling, cowering behind him in the most irritating manner. Though she helped present the right image, she was at too great a risk here. One of the brutes would likely kill her just to shut her up, so Zhi-Gang turned to her with a gentle smile. “This is too much for you, Madame Bai. Go rest in the women’s rooms. I will dispose of this matter.”

  First Wife had no need to be told twice. She scurried away before he could think of a way to have her find Anna, too. He grimaced, then turned back to where the half-white thug poked idly at the governor’s body.

  “Why do you desecrate him?” Zhi-Gang asked in all honesty. There had been no time last night to do more than get a quick, poorly made casket. Silk cushioned the body and draped to the floor, simultaneously appearing regal and hiding the bloodstains.

  Meanwhile, the half-white man lifted the covering off the governor’s face and grunted. “Who are you?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “The new governor here,” Zhi-Gang snapped. An easy lie. With the Empress Dowager’s coup d’etat, governors would be changing all over China as she appointed her own people. Meanwhile, he kept his posture weak. With mostly women and children in the compound, he couldn’t risk a show of force. It would be too dangerous for the others—and too likely to fail. His plan now was to not challenge the man’s authority, but to barter.

  The man wrinkled his large nose in disgust. “Then you are responsible for the old governor’s debts.”

  Zhi-Gang laughed. “Do you think to get blood out of a stone? Why do you think he was killed?” He gestured disdainfully at the dead body. “Debts! All that could be stolen was already taken by his killer.”

  The half-white straightened. “We will search for more.”

  “You will make a deal with me,” Zhi-Gang countered. “Opium. Girl prostitutes. Even oxen, if you want. These things I can help you market. All at the same terms you had with him. And I will not gamble away the profits, so there will be no need for me to steal from you.”

  The man sneered. “Pay his debt first.”

  “No.” Zhi-Gang narrowed his eyes. “Unless… there is something else you want.” If they wanted Anna, they would say so now.

  The leader drew his sword with an ugly grin. “We want money. Or you die.”

  Zhi-Gang felt relief spill through him. They weren’t looking for Anna. But they were looking for blood, which meant he had no choice. They meant to kill him and ransack the compound unless he stopped them.

  Before the man’s guards could even reach for their swords, Zhi-Gang threw both his weapons. Two of the men dropped, deer-horn daggers sticking out of their throats. Five opponents abruptly became three, but now Zhi-Gang was unarmed. The others drew their swords.

  Zhi-Gang didn’t move. He merely shrugged. “I have archers there and there.” He pointed to where he had entered, and outside the window. “Think hard before you attack. You will be dead before you can take another step.” Then he narrowed his eyes at the half-white leader. “You will die first.”

  The man hesitated, but he wasn’t completely cowed. “I have men outside, too. What makes you think they have not already killed your archers?”

  Zhi-Gang made a show of rolling his eyes. “Because if they had, my men would now be the ones bleeding on the floor. Besides, those boys can’t kill a dog much less my men.” This was another calculated risk, but he trusted Anna’s guess. His sweet little opium addict knew a great deal more about this business than she let on, and if her suggestion caused him to look informed…

  The half-white narrowed his eyes but did not advance. Zhi-Gang waited, his legs tensed to dive sideways should they attack. But in the end, his opponent waved his men to sheathe their weapons.

  “You give us girls, we give you opium. A half pound each.”

  Zhi-Gang felt the old fury build. Selling China’s girls to buy poison. How had such an atrocity ever begun? To cover his anger, he slowly moved toward one of the dead guards. With a show of weakness, he struggled to draw the blade out of the man’s neck: the Enforcer had the reputation of wielding his blades with lightning speed, so the less like a warrior he appeared, the better for everyone. Meanwhile, he had a negotiation to manage.

  “You think girls go easily into your hands? Ten pounds each.” The blade felt good in his hand.

  “Ha!” the half-white snorted. “You cannot think—”

  Zhi-Gang threw his blade into the neck of the nearest brute. Now there were only two left alive.

  “Stop that!” the half-white exclaimed. Then he charged, his last remaining companion only a step behind. But Zhig-Gang was prepared. He side-stepped the leader, then followed up with a disarming strike. The half-white’s sword tumbled into Zhi-Gang’s waiting hand just in time to fend off the companion. As he suspected, the brutes were not trained fighters. They used intimidation to get their way rather than skilled swordplay. In a few short moments, the companion had fallen—stunned but not dead—and the leader was pinned against the coffin while Zhi-Gang pressed a sword to his neck.

  “You tire me,” Zhi-Gang drawled. “Who is your puppeteer?”

  The man frowned. “What?”

  A familiar female voice answered: “He means Samuel, you moron.”

  All turned abruptly as Anna sauntered in. Beside her stood one of the governor’s wives—the second, Zhi-Gang guessed—and a mulish adolescent sporting a new bruise on his sulking face. A bruise that looked like it could have come from the Second Wife’s cane.

  “Why aren’t you at your post?” the leader of the thugs demanded of the boy.

  Anna answered. “Because morons hire morons.” She stepped further into the room, making a show of inspecting the new bodies. “Yeah, I can see what a good job you’re doing here, Halfy.” She gestured to the last remaining guard. “You. Get them out of here.”

  The guard hesitated, and Anna abruptly slapped him hard across the face. “I am giving the orders here! Go or die!”

  The man scrambled to obey. Zhi-Gang didn’t blame him. Anna said the words so forcefully that Zhi-Gang momentarily wondered whom she had killed before. Then he realized she was probably bluffing, just like him. Or perhaps not.

  After all, he didn’t really know much about this woman, did he? Especially not the woman who was boldly ordering around… what had she called him? Halfy. She was clearly acting like she not only knew the bastard, but was due a great deal of respect and deference. And if that were true, she wasn’t just an addict and a runner. This woman he had kissed, bedded, and possibly impregnated last night might very well be a leader in a major opium organization.

  The thought nearly made him retch. Instead, he continued the game, pretending to be the newest buyer in the most evil trade. “I am sick of you both,” he sneered with absolute truth. “Where is Samuel? I will speak with him.”

  “Moron,” Halfy sneered, apparently unable to think of a different insult. “Samuel can’t come inland. He’s white.”

  Zhi-Gang shrugged. “So is she, and she’s here.”

  Anna snorted. “We’ll go to him, Governor. Or you c
an keep your local girls and live without the opium. We got poor whores coming out of our ears in Shanghai.”

  Halfy stomped his foot in petulant irritation. “Samuel don’t meet with buyers. That’s for me to do.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Anna. “What are you doing here? We’ve been looking all over China for you.”

  Second Wife chose that moment to exert herself. Despite her crippled stance, she was able to slap the big half-white man flat across the face. It was so unexpected a move that everyone stood frozen in shock.

  “Half-breed ape, we will discuss nothing more with you or her!” Second Wife glared at one and all, her spine growing straighter as she spoke. “This is a house of mourning. Get out, all of you! And take your dung-house business and go!”

  Anna arched her light brown eyebrow in a very Chinese expression. “Well, Governor? Do you come with us? Or do you squat here without opium, without income except what an honest leader would take?”

  It was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. Did he accept the setup suddenly arrayed before him? With the right bribes, he could be assured an appointment to this very post. He could lead this province where he was born and see that nothing happened again like what had happened to his sister.

  Or he could follow his personal obsession, continue as the Enforcer, and see this through to the end. Assuming, of course, that sweet little Anna was being as honest with him as she pretended. Which, of course, was a huge assumption.

  “And what will you do?” he asked.

  He saw a moment of fear flicker through Anna’s eyes, but it was quickly gone as she gestured at Halfy. “You heard him. Samuel has been looking through all of China for me. I will go and explain myself to my adopted father.” Then she held his gaze for a long dark moment before she spoke again. “I knew he would find me eventually. It was foolishness to believe something else, even for a night.”

  Halfy curled his lip into a sneer. “So you were running away! Samuel didn’t believe you would be that stupid, but I knew. I knew—”