by Jade Lee
“I just want to find her,” he whispered. “If she is dead, I will take her bones to Peking. I will bury them beside my mother and put a jade carving of her name on the family altar though she is a woman.”
Anna swallowed, tears blurring her vision. She had a good idea how revolted his entire family would be at such a thing. To revere a prostitute? To put a woman’s name in carved jade on the altar? Such things were not done except by a man like Zhi-Gang. A man who lived by his own strict code of honor and forced others to admit to their crimes. A carved slab of jade was a small price to pay for what his parents had done. And if he shamed them before their peers, then so be it. They should be shamed.
“But what if she is alive?” Anna asked. “What will you do then?”
“I will buy her freedom no matter the cost. Then she will live in her rightful place in my father’s home. He will have to come home every day and look into his daughter’s face. He will have to live with the daily reminder of what he did.”
Fair enough. Zhi-Gang obviously lived with it. “But what of her?”
“I will shower her in silks and jewels. She will be honored for her sacrifice, treated better than any hero of China. I will make her life as beautiful as possible. That will be my thanks for what she did for me.”
Anna smiled and pressed her lips to his neck. His skin was warm where she touched, if dry as parchment. On it she wrote her respect, her awe, and her love of him. She did it in kisses, in whispered caresses, and swift, sharp nips designed to inflame his senses. She did all these things, and together they discovered another use for a closed carriage beyond carting opium and bartered girls.
And when he was pressed deep inside her, she whispered words into his ears. She did not say what was in her heart, she did not speak of the love she had crushed a few nights before; what she said was simple and elegant and made him pour his seed into her like a great river gushing forward all its power.
Three words, but she knew from experience how wonderful they were. “I forgive you,” she said. And then she repeated it as often as he allowed her the breath and space to say it. “I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you.”
They arrived at the Tigress compound. Anna adjusted her clothing while Zhi-Gang resettled his knives. Then they stepped out of the carriage and prepared themselves to meet—and likely kill—the woman who taught whores as her part in this unholy business.
Whatever Zhi-Gang expected when he stepped into the Tan Tigress compound, it was not a white ship captain named Jonas Storm. The name fit, for Jonas was a huge bear of a man with curling dark hair and turbulent gray eyes. But he was quiet and unassuming in his own way—like a poised thundercloud—and he greeted Zhi-Gang and Anna with perfect Chinese and equally polished manners.
Zhi-Gang gave the false name of Lan, and then the white man showed them to a receiving room. Tea arrived moments later, and the captain cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“How may the Tan home assist you, sir?” he asked.
“We search for a woman named Little Pearl,” Zhi-Gang replied.
Captain Storm nodded. “So I was given to understand. May I ask why?”
“I come on behalf of the governor of the province of Jiangsu. I mean her no harm,” Zhi-Gang lied. “But I wish to speak with her about a girl she may know.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, but not with animosity. “What is the girl’s name?”
“Please,” Zhi-Gang countered. “This is a matter best discussed with Little Pearl.”
“And not a white man?” the captain challenged. “And yet you come with a white woman.” His gaze cut to Anna, and he switched to English. “Are you well, ma’am? Do you need any assistance?”
It took a moment for Zhi-Gang to process the English words. Though he was well-versed in the language, the Captain spoke with his own accent and in words likely designed to confuse one who was not a native speaker.
Anna, too, frowned a moment before she answered. “I am well,” she said in stilted English. “My apology. It long time since I use English. We tried to speak in Mandarin at mission.” She blushed and looked at her hands. “I should speak better. I will be going to England. I need learn English better.”
Zhi-Gang turned, touching her hand so that she looked directly at him. “He wants to know if I am hurting you,” he said in Chinese. “If you are afraid of me and need his protection.”
Anna blushed prettily and shook her head. “Oh no,” she gasped. “I am quite safe.”
In truth, Zhi-Gang could not tell if she was playing the innocent for Captain Storm’s benefit or if she truly was embarrassed. Either way, his heart burned even brighter for her. Either she was extraordinarily skilled at manipulating others to her benefit, or she truly didn’t understand how a white man might think her in danger from a Chinese.
The captain stared at her hard, and she returned his scrutiny with equal measure, even going so far as to arch an eyebrow when his study became obvious. The moment stretched on and on until the man slowly relaxed.
“He is looking for his sister. Tau Xiao-Mei,” Anna explained. “Really, we mean no harm.”
The captain’s eyes flickered a moment in recognition, then his gaze steadied. Zhi-Gang saw the movement and nearly leapt from his seat to demand an answer, but Anna gripped his arm to hold him steady and Zhi-Gang settled on a barely controlled question.
“What do you know of my sister?”
The captain pushed to his feet. “If you wait here,” he said. “I will get Little Pearl. Perhaps she can answer your questions.” He shot them a wry grimace. “But it might take a moment. She’s touchy about when she leaves her steamed boo.”
Zhi-Gang nodded, though his belly was tightening with every moment that passed. He would find his sister. He would not let some cook or displaced white captain deter him. He would not—
“Try to relax,” Anna said. Her hand covered his fist.
It was her touch more than her words that broke his fury. But then she continued speaking, and he found himself flowing into her words, the sharp bite of his mood smoothing out with her logic.
“We are here to gather information. She may or may not have it. And it’s possible that Little Pearl has been helping the women she meets.”
He slanted her a disbelieving look, but she squeezed his hands.
“It’s possible. This place is not what it seems. What home in Chinese Shanghai is run by a white man? Give the woman a chance.”
“She teaches whores, Anna.” He shoved out of his seat to pace the room. “What does that mean? She shows them how to pickpocket their customers? How to cut opium and water down wine? Or maybe how to bilk secrets out of viceroys?”
Anna followed his movements with a steady gaze. “Would that matter?”
He spun, a sharp rebuke on his lips. But she raised her hand, stopping his words.
“What does it matter what she teaches, so long as it gives power to the powerless? Hope to the hopeless?” Anna stood, crossing to his side. “Do not condemn her until you understand.”
“Wise words, white woman,” came a voice from behind.
Both Zhi-Gang and Anna spun around to see a small woman with bound feet standing in the doorway. She wore a simple blue silk gown, rather commonplace in appearance but that hugged her young curves the way only a favorite garment could. Behind her stood the captain, one hand resting casually on the woman’s shoulder, but his alert gaze showed him to be anything but relaxed.
Anna dipped her head in greeting. “Little Pearl, I assume?”
The woman didn’t speak. Neither did Zhi-Gang. He stared at her, seeing in her face the exact image of his mother from years ago. From before they left Huai’an. From a time that never was, when his mother had been young and beautiful and unburdened by the sale of a daughter.
Little Pearl was his sister. She was Xiao-Mei.
Zhi-Gang stared at her, and she at him, while a lifetime of loss and hope thickened the air between them. In the end, it was Zhi-Gang who m
oved. It wasn’t by conscious thought; his knees simply gave out. He dropped bit by bit, then furthered the movement by pressing his face to the dirty floor.
He could feel Anna’s surprise as she tried to catch him. She thought he had fallen, but as he completed his kowtow, she relaxed her hands and stepped back. All the while, Zhi-Gang tried to speak, but his throat was frozen. No sound emerged though he tried. He tried with all his heart, but nothing came out.
In a moment, he would wonder how a girl sold into whoring could appear so beautiful nearly two decades later. In a while, he would have breath to ask the questions that crowded together on his numb tongue. But for now, all he could do was press his forehead to the dirt and pray she understood.
In the stunned silence, he finally heard her speak. Her voice was surprisingly mature given the youthful cast to her features. “Well, brother,” she drawled. “This is a change. Me standing and you on your knees.”
He looked up, his eyes moist, his mouth still frozen. In his mind’s eye, he remembered every moment of when he lay crumpled against a table while he watched her dragged screaming from the house.
She stepped forward, her expression soft. “As you can see, I have learned how to walk on my tiny feet. I can fetch my own dolls, even manage a large household.” She reached out and pulled a crease out of his ragged clothing. “All in all, I believe I have done better than you.”
He blinked, confusion warring with guilt in his thoughts. And still no sound emerged from his mouth.
His sister rolled her eyes then folded her arms. The gesture was so reminiscent of his mother, Zhi-Gang nearly choked. “Oh, get up. It strains my back to talk leaning over like this.”
How many times had his mother snapped at him in just that tone? Enough that he responded without thinking, lifting up to settle back on his heels, his jaw slack with shock. Beside him, Anna muffled a laugh. He even saw amusement flicker in the white captain’s eyes.
“How?” he finally managed.
“Aie-yah,” his sister responded. “You haven’t changed at all. No understanding of culture. Get up, brother. Drink your tea and eat a dumpling. They are excellent, you know,” she said with clear pride. “And I will tell you everything.”
From Anna Marie Thompson’s journal:
January 10,1890
They sell girls. They trade young girls for opium. Samuel was smart to hide that from me. I would never have agreed—years ago—if I knew. I would have never begun running. Or maybe I would, but I won’t run girls.
I told him I’d work for someone else. That I was the best runner he had, and that I could easily work for someone else.
He took out his knife to stab me, just like on my sixteenth birthday. But I saw it coming. Samuel’s older now, and I was faster. I won’t do runs with girls, I said. It’s gold or jewelry or nothing. No girls.
Samuel agreed. He had to with his own knife at his throat. But he kept the bargain when I put the knife away, and he even gave me a gram for being so clever.
He suggested we use his needle. “The best time ever” But I already knew how to use a hypodermic, and I don’t crust him like I used to. So I said no. Said I didn’t celebrate with the customers anymore.
He smiled at me then. He’s a twisted bastard, smiling like that at me. He was proud of who I was. Proud of what I’ve become. And I’m twisted too, because I liked it. It was like he was Father again.
Then he opened his book—the one where he writes the accounts. And by my name, he wrote something new. He doubled my pay.
I found a room and celebrated with my own hypodermic.
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge from “Kubla Khan: or, A Vision in a Dream. A Fragment”
Chapter Sixteen
Zhi-Gang stared at his sister in amazement as she served them tea. Her skin was pure and clear; her body young. And most strange, her eyes had an inner clarity that defied explanation. “You’re so… so…” He didn’t know how to phrase it.
Captain Jonas spoke up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Beautiful. So very beautiful.”
“Yes,” answered Zhi-Gang; except, that wasn’t what he meant at all. “Happy,” he finally blurted. “You look happy.”
Xiao-Mei—Little Pearl—set down the teapot with practiced ease. She kept her eyes lowered as she spoke, but he heard the ring of truth in her words. “I was angry at you for a very long time, brother. At you and all the family.”
“You look like Mama,” he said. “Only better. She was very sad after… after you left. She never recovered.”
Little Pearl blinked then folded her hands quietly into her lap. “I want to know more,” she whispered. “But not now. Not until I have adjusted to having my brother again.”
“Xiao-Mei, it was because of you that…” he began, but she shook her head.
“Please. Just listen.” He froze in silence. “A few months ago, I would have fed you poison instead of tea. I would have thrown your body in the sewer and prepared a feast in celebration.”
He glanced at his empty teacup. “And now?” he asked.
She laughed—a delightful cascade of notes that sounded so free. “Now you get green tea and my best dumplings,” she said. “Because I am no longer angry.”
He studied her face. She had lifted her gaze to his with an openness that stunned him. It was even echoed in her qi. “How?” he whispered. How could she not revile him for what they had done to her?
“The past is gone, brother. Neither you nor I can change it.”
“But you must have been… You were sold into…” He couldn’t give voice to what she must have suffered. Beside him, Anna gripped his hand with hers, lending her strength.
On the other side, Little Pearl also touched his hand, her caress as gentle as it was strange. “It was awful,” she said. “And it is over. Nearly ten years ago, I came to the Tan household.” She leaned forward. “Do you know what is taught here?”
He shook his head. He did not want to call it lessons in whoring. She must have read his thoughts, though. She must have seen his discomfort, because she smiled.
“It is not whoring, brother. It is a way to find peace in the mind and ecstasy in the body. Have you heard of tigresses? Do you know what a dragon is?”
He nodded, but the movement was slow. “In the Forbidden City, the concubines whisper of a strange practice to promote beauty and immortality through sex. The women are tigresses, the men are dragons. They touch each other and call it heaven.”
“I have tigress sisters in Peking,” Little Pearl acknowledged. “And it is a great deal more than simple touching.”
He pushed to his feet, unable to comprehend that she could believe such foolishness. “Women’s gossip and ignorance.”
“Really?” challenged Little Pearl. “Look at me, brother. I have become an Immortal. Can you find any other explanation for my beauty? My youth?” She leaned forward. “My joy?”
He had no answer for her. Beauty could be explained by handsome clothing, restorative creams—or so many women claimed. But the happiness in Xiao Mei’s heart, the joy that pervaded everything she did and said—that could only come from… He shook his head. “It cannot be.” And yet the more he looked at her, the more he wondered.
“It’s true,” Captain Jonas said. “I didn’t believe it either, but she has changed so much. We both have.”
Anna shifted uncomfortably. “From sex?”
“And love.” Captain Jonas’s gaze drifted back to Little Pearl and she smiled in return.
“Yes,” she said. “And love.” Then her gaze came back to Zhi-Gang. “I could teach you, brother. If you would just listen.” When he had no response, she arched her finely sculpted brow at him. “Do you not wish for peace, brother? Do you not long for an answer to so many questions.” She smiled. “That is what I remember most about you. You always h
ad questions. All the time.”
Longing burst through him, a need to grasp the happiness his sister had found. If a girl sold into prostitution could now be so happy, surely there was hope for him. Perhaps there could be truth in her strange religion. But it seemed so…
Anna abruptly stood, her movements agitated as she turned for the door.
“Anna? Where are you going?”
“I… I… I thought I’d look around a bit. Let you… And Little Pearl…”
He frowned, trying to understand her thoughts. Meanwhile, Captain Jonas smoothly pushed to his feet. “Perhaps you’d like a place to rest.”
Anna nodded gratefully. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
The white man extended his arm to her and she took it: two whites in absolute accord, looking like a perfect couple. Zhi-Gang shot up from his seat, gruffly interposing himself between them. He took her hand and turned to his sister.
“I apologize. I did not formally introduce you. Xiao-Mei, I would like you to meet my wife, Anna.”
“No,” whispered Anna, clutching Zhi-Gang’s arm. “Do not lie to her. Do not begin again like that.”
He shifted, his hand gripping hers. “It is no lie. The papers were official, the marriage binding. We are married.”
“But—”
“And therefore,” he continued. “I would like you to remain here. I wish you to share in this most joyous moment of reunion with my lost sister.”
Little Pearl stood to look with narrowed eyes at the two of them. “White and Chinese wed? How can this be? You cannot tell me that the family approved.”
Zhi-Gang actually rolled his eyes, the motion comical enough to break the tension. “They do not know. But I have ceased worrying about what they know and do not know of my actions.”
He swallowed, forcing himself to bare himself before his sister. “Because of your sacrifice, I have done very well. Our other brothers have adequate government appointments, our father spends his days drinking expensive tea and commenting on politics, and I work for the Dragon Throne to destroy opium. I came to Shanghai looking for you, to save you from the life we had forced on you. I thought to bring you home in honor, but…” His voice trailed away as he indicated her stunning home. It was more luxurious than anything his family owned.