She nodded, her breath too hot against her lips to speak.
"Change your leg position first."
She had forgotten. And, curiously, she did not want to move. But he helped her, reaching forward to lift her knee while she extended her stiff leg. There was a wet sucking sound as she moved, and her face heated with embarrassment. A hot lick of fire shot up her belly.
She was quick to move then, adjusting her position so that her other foot pressed deeply against her groin and the sheet again covered her. But she could not deny the feeling of moistness, and her embarrassment made her duck her face away.
"Your dew is plentiful and sweet-smelling. That is an excellent thing, Joanna Crane," Zou Tun said.
She didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing. She allowed him to gently pull her back, and they once again settled into a rhythm.
It was a simple movement, really. They began with her relaxed against him, slightly reclined, his fingers in the same position as before—at the top of the bone between her breasts. As she exhaled, his hands slid lower, underneath. It was only on their rise—when his hands were on the outsides of her breasts—that she began to inhale. And with that breath, he pressed forward, rocking her against her heel. His hands circled closer and higher.
He always stopped this spiral just before touching her nipples, no matter how much she strained for his touch. And then he would reset, pressing her back until she once again rested against him.
Except it was never completely like at the beginning. It was as if each cycle pulled or pushed or drew something from her. With each circle her breasts seemed to fill, expanding as they had never done before. And as his hands spiraled to her peaks, so too did her energy—her yin—until it began pressing against her nipples. The yin waited there, just behind the dark, tight disks of flesh. And no matter how overburdened she felt, she could not release that tension.
Still Zou Tun circled, drawing more and more of her power. Below, her heel continued to press rhythmically against her groin—harder with each cresting thrust. She did not do it consciously, and yet she knew it was happening. She felt the tension in her thigh as she drew her leg in tight. And she knew whatever was occurring below was creating more yin, infusing it into her blood so that Zou Tun could gather it and pull her to her peak.
In truth, the imagery was not so clear in her mind.
She simply felt full, and with each circling, each press, each near touch, she felt even fuller. And she did not want it to stop.
Was this what Zou Tun felt like when his dragon expanded? When it pushed out of its sheath? She felt his organ against her bottom, thicker, larger, harder than before. She knew she could make the dragon rain again, but she would not stop what she was doing. She wanted to feel her yin release, just as she had released his yang.
"Seventy-two," he said, his voice hoarse and breathless in her ear. Then he pushed her forward so he could step away from her. His movements were abrupt and ungainly, jostling her so that her heel slid from its position, pushing deeper inside her than ever before. She moaned at the exquisite feel, even trying to intensify the sensation.
"Lie back," he said. Then, before she could comply, he began helping her down, straightening her leg despite her protests.
"So full," she whispered. She wasn't entirely sure what she meant. Only that her blood was rushing, her breasts were throbbing, and there was a largeness to her body. The expansion felt amazing and frightening and wonderful all at once.
He didn't respond with words. Instead she felt him cup her right breast, shaping it, drawing it upward toward him. She arched as he did, her hips shifting restlessly on the bed. What did she want? She didn't know.
She tried to be analytical. She tried to understand these feelings as she would understand a text on philosophy. But the sensations were too overwhelming, the tide too high for her even to breathe.
And then he put his mouth on her nipple. His lips were wet, his tongue rough. When he sucked, he pulled her entire body with him.
Lightning shot through her. White-hot fire pulsed from his mouth—sucking, sucking, sucking—and to a point that throbbed between her thighs. It was like she had a thick dragon of her own, but this one was inside her, hungry, greedy, and alive.
He continued to suckle, and with each pull against her nipple Joanna's hips bucked. Her back was arched, her entire body bowed as she thrust herself toward his mouth. And still there was no relief, no release. Only a building of pressure within her body and mind.
She gripped his arms tighter. She didn't remember grabbing hold of him, but now she held on as if he were the only answer. She wanted something. She needed it as much as she needed her next breath.
And yet it would not come. The coiled beast within her would not release.
At last he opened his mouth, drawing away. Cold air hit her breast, sending another tremor along her spine, making the dragon writhe within her.
"I will try the other side," he said, and she had enough consciousness to hear the desperation in his voice. "I will take a little time to prepare you better."
She didn't understand. Even as he stroked and pulled at her breast, she had no thought to how she could be better prepared. She was prepared. She was more than prepared. She was desperate.
She felt his weight settle on her as he shifted position. Her legs were pinned down—open—but her only thought was for his mouth. His lips. He had to...
He thumbed her left nipple. He rolled it between his fingers and tugged it. She thrashed on the bed, her movements echoing the coiling twists of the dragon inside her. It was huge now, a beating monster that filled her entire chest.
"I will suck now," he said. "Once very hard. To open the gate."
"Now," she gasped. "Yes. Please, now." She arched her back, thrusting herself toward him as much as she could. She didn't need to push far. His head descended, his lips clamped on, and he sucked.
One hard, painful pull.
Inside, her beast shot forward, only to slam against the pain. Joanna screamed at the agony, which mingled with the burning misery of her raw throat.
This wasn't working. This wasn't working! She had no thought beyond that, even as he settled once again to his rhythmic suckling. But it wasn't working.
Bang! A door slammed against the wall.
"What are you doing?" It was the Tigress Shi Po, demanding something in a high, angry voice. "Stop this at once!"
Zou Tun abruptly released her, his body weight pulling off of Joanna with a suddenness that left her gasping.
"She isn't ready, you fool."
Joanna whimpered. Nothing made sense. And yet she knew whatever was happening, whatever wrong thing Zou Tun had done, she didn't want it exposed by Shi Po. She scrambled backward with shaking limbs, drawing the sheet against her chest, pressing it there as if a swathe of cotton could hold back the squirming dragon inside her.
Zou Tun helped. He shifted off the bed, standing to face the Tigress while still shielding her from view. But when he spoke, his voice was thick and guttural, as if he had as much trouble as she did in forming words.
"She wished to release her yin."
Even from her position on the bed, Joanna could still see the Tigress. She wrinkled her nose, sniffing the air. "As you released your yang?" She sneered.
Joanna saw Zou Tun's back muscles ripple at the insult, but he did not deny it. Instead he folded his arms across his chest. "She understands your teaching. She wants to learn."
"Your barbarian whore understands nothing."
Joanna shifted to her knees, fury burning through her. But it was nothing compared to Zou Tun's reaction. He shot forward, grabbing hold of the Tigress's arms with both hands. His grip must have been painful, because it bit deep into her flesh, and he raised her up in the air as he spoke.
"She is no whore!"
"Then why do you treat her as one?" Shi Po shot back. "Why were you lying between her thighs, your dragon poised to strike?"
Joanna frowned, doing her
best to calm her raging blood. She needed to find the rationality to remember what had happened, to recall...
He had been between her legs. Her legs had been spread and his hips had been pressing her down, his dragon...
She did not remember his dragon. She did not know if he had been ready to plunge it into her. But if he had been ready, if he had wanted to take her virginity, to... to use her as his whore, she knew that she would not have stopped him. She would not have known what was happening until it was too late.
Meanwhile, Zou Tun had set the Tigress back on the floor. Releasing her arms, he straightened to his full height.
"I would not have done that."
The Tigress shook her head. "You had no control of yourself." She glanced disdainfully at Joanna. "Neither of you did." She folded her arms and glared at Zou Tun. "She is not to blame. She is a barbarian with no understanding of the qi power. But you are a monk, trained in the Shaolin way. You know what pure yang can do." She stepped forward, lifting his chin with a single sharp fingernail. "I tell you now that yin and yang combined are a thousand times more potent. They become a beast that can only be ridden, never controlled."
She shifted to look at Joanna. "You have hurt her this day, monk. As you have been hurting her from the very beginning." Her gaze shifted back to Zou Tun. "What preys upon you, monk? What gives you such pain that you must release your anger on a naive ghost girl?"
Zou Tun did not answer. His pain was too deep for him to explain it to one such as Shi Po. Joanna knew that, even if the Tigress did not. So while the woman waited for an answer, her impatience becoming palpable, Joanna drew herself together. Though neither Tigress nor Zou Tun paid the least attention to her, Joanna pushed her shaking body to stand, wrapping the sheet tighter around her body.
Then, before she could think about her action, she stepped between the two.
"I understand," she said. It was all she could manage.
Neither of the two so much as blinked. They were completely consumed with each other. Or perhaps not, because Zou Tun extended his hand, holding Joanna back when she would have stepped closer.
"The Tigress is right," he finally said. "Enlightenment cannot be rushed. If it is, we will end up rutting like beasts in the field. What we do here is supposed to be more."
Joanna shook her head, wishing she could explain. Now that her mind was clearing, she wanted to ask questions. But all she could do was shake her head and repeat what she had said before.
"I understand."
The Tigress turned to her. "You understand what, barbarian? That it felt good?"
Joanna shook her head.
Beside her, Zou Tun's eyes widened. "There was pain?"
She rolled her eyes in frustration, paused, then shook her head.
"No pain?" Zou Tun repeated, his eyes searching her face.
"There was a little pain," Shi Po translated. "But there was also pleasure, yes?"
Joanna nodded.
"That is natural. Your yin is not yet pure enough to flow without pain."
Joanna nodded again. But this was not what she wished to discuss. She turned to Zou Tun, pressing her palm flat upon his chest. "I... understand," she rasped out one last time.
Zou Tun wrapped his hands around hers, holding her tight to his chest. But his frown showed his confusion. Again the Tigress filled in the gaps, her voice less angry. "She understands you." Her eyes sharpened on Joanna. "Is that correct? You understand his anger?"
At last. They had finally figured out what she was trying to say. Except Zou Tun was shaking his head.
"She cannot," he said. "She does not know."
"It does not matter if she understands," the Tigress snapped. "It is the gravest of abuses to take advantage of another. Are you no better than a bitter eunuch?"
Zou Tun's gaze snapped to the Tigress. "I did not mean to cause harm. I thought she was ready."
"You thought. Because you are an adept in this practice," she sneered. "You can tell when a girl's muscles are prepared. When her mind is focused and her body is strong enough to manage the yin river."
Obviously Zou Tun was not an adept in these things, and so he bowed his head in shame. Though it likely cost him a great deal of pride, he continued his bow, dropping to one knee in an imperial kowtow. "How do I repair the damage?"
Joanna ached, her eyes burning to see him so shamed. She wanted to pull him to his feet, wanted to tell him she was not harmed. But her voice prevented it. And her mind told her that she did not yet know the extent of the damage. Because she, also, was new to this, she did not yet know what was true.
Shi Po sighed, her sharp eyes taking in Joanna's distress and Zou Tun's shame. "A burdened man cannot ride a tiger, and no monk—Shaolin or Jade Dragon—can reach Heaven while a worm eats at his insides. Root out your pain, monk, and seek to make amends."
She waited until he nodded. Then she shifted her gaze to Joanna. "Continue your exercises. He has accelerated the process, so you must be extra careful to remain pure of mind and body." Then she drew two stone balls linked by a short chain from her pocket. The first was small and made of jade. The other was nearly twice the size of the first and made of polished marble. "Put the small one inside your cinnabar cave. When you can stand upright for a thousand heartbeats without it slipping out, then you will be ready to experience the yin river."
She turned to leave, pausing at the door to throw one last instruction over her shoulder.
"He must not touch you until then."
21 January, 1898
Dearest Father,
I write this with a heavy heart because I know it will cause you pain. I did not intend such a thing by my rash actions, but I know now that it was inevitable. I am deeply sorry for that. How-ever, please understand, I am happier now than I have ever been.
I am married, Father—to a wonderful man who brings me great joy. And with him I am learning such an amazing thing that I cannot express. There is a beauty in what we are learning, a joy and a peace that I have never seen before. I never even imagined it was possible. Oh, Father, I so wish to remain where I am. And even if you were to find me and drag me back, I would escape. I would—I must—stay here to learn more.
Please stop your search for me. Please send your men home and devote yourself to finding your own happiness.
And please be happy for me. Because I was searching, and now have found. And life is glorious!
Your loving daughter,
Joanna
Modesty wins adoration. By doing things for others, you can accomplish your own ideals.
—Lao Tzu
Chapter 11
Joanna exhaled with relief as the Tigress left. She dropped back down onto the bed, sighing because her legs were still weak, her strength uncertain. But as she sat, she studied the two balls in her hand, feeling their cool polished sides and even testing the strength of the chain.
It was very solid. She need not fear it would break or separate from the stones.
Zou Tun remained on one knee, his head bowed, his right fist pressed to the ground. It took a long time before he moved, but eventually he raised his gaze to hers, watching her with that dark, serious stare that seemed to go right through her.
"Why did you say you understand? What do you think you know about me?"
Joanna looked at him, seeing the fear in his eyes, but also recognizing guilt, worry, and even hope. She did not have the voice to tell him that she knew a great deal about men's pain. That she had seen the same tortured emotions in her own father ten years before, when her mother died in his arms. And she'd seen it every day since, lurking behind the quiet determination in his demeanor.
It did not matter the source of one's pain. She knew that Zou Tun suffered. And she knew, as well, that he was struggling through it as best he could. Sometimes that meant lashing out, hurting people when one least intended. She understood, forgave, even as she took steps to ensure that he would not harm her again.
He surged forward, stopping an inch
before her. "What do you know?" he demanded.
She didn't flinch, but she braced herself. If he hurt her now she would leave. She would walk out of the room and demand a new partner. But everything inside her told her that he would not touch her. Not in anger. Not even in his pain. She remained right where she was, vulnerable on the bed.
When she did not answer his bellowed question, Zou Tun collapsed. He seemed to crumple inside himself as if a tornado had blown through his soul, leaving him behind to flutter uselessly to the floor. He did not sob, though she guessed he wanted to. Instead he simply sat and stared sightlessly into space.
"What do you know?" she asked, her voice as gentle as she could make it.
He didn't answer. He just shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.
She leaned down, curling her fingers beneath his arms and pulling. His gaze lifted to her, startled and confused. But she just shook her head and tugged. Now was not the time for words.
Eventually he moved, half pushing to his feet, half allowing her to roll him onto the bed. They didn't speak at all, yet they moved as one. With her encouragement, he crawled onto the bed, resting on his side, his head dropping wearily to the pillow. Then he opened his arms, and she slid into place there, her back against his chest, her body enfolded in his arms.
She barely could tug the sheet over their bodies, but once the fabric settled across them she closed her eyes. His breathing had already steadied. Hers was rapidly meshing with it.
She had a fleeting thought before sleep claimed her completely. It was an image, really, a vision of her monk. Zou Tun stood proudly before her, his body gloriously naked, his shoulders thrown back in pride and power. His head sported a Manchurian queue, a beautiful fall of thick, dark hair. But he was trembling, struggling to stand firm. It took a moment's study to realize why his strength was failing, but eventually she saw.
He was wounded, though not in the physical sense. She studied his body, and she could see no cut or wound. Instead she saw a golden shimmer of energy. It surrounded him in glory, she thought. Except it was not glory. It was not God's radiance. It was his own power, seeping away, draining like water from a sieve. She could not see why it slipped from him. She only knew that it did.
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