"Kui Yu!" Shi Po snapped, and he heard her desperation.
"Sit beside me, wife," he said wearily. "It is not an easy thing to explain."
She nodded. Moving carefully, she settled beside him, careful that they did not touch. She faced him, her dark eyes wide and somber, her blouse open and revealing her breasts swaying before him.
His body stirred, his yang rising even as he fought the reaction. Now was not the time; and yet, as he looked at her, he could not forget the feel of last night. Her touch. Her caress...
"Let me touch you," he whispered.
She shook her head.
"I see you, Shi Po, and I think of other things. I am your husband. It is my duty to protect and honor you, and yet we are here in a prison cell. I cannot spring us free. I cannot banish your evil dreams. I cannot even control my hunger when I see you like this before me." He sighed and wondered what he was trying to say. "Have pity on me, wife. I will tell you everything you want to know, but at least gift me with your warmth in this frigid cell."
She blushed and ducked her head, but not before he'd seen a lightening of expression. He knew she would come to him, even as she shook her head. She said, "I have never understood your mind, Kui Yu. The cell is not cold, and your body aches. My touch will only increase your pain."
"Never," he whispered. Then he opened his arms.
She came to him shyly, but he felt the slide of her arms across his chest, the press of her breasts against his skin. She was warm and giving, and her heat did ease his pain. But it also woke his dragon.
He leaned his head down and brushed a kiss across her temple. "When I remember last night, I do not think of my time in Heaven."
She didn't speak, stroking a single word on his chest: Liar.
Truth, he countered. Then: You—miracle. Heaven—strange. He had wanted to say those words to her for a long time. He had wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. How bizarre, that he could only express himself in silent writing in the dark of a prison cell.
"Tell me everything," she commanded.
He sighed. He knew she didn't believe him, did not comprehend the depth of his feelings. She was a beautiful woman. Men of all types gave her compliments. They meant little to her, and he admired such a lack of vanity. And yet, how could she not know that he meant what he said?
She was getting impatient, her body stiffening against him. So he began to answer, caressing the words slowly on her skin as a way to buy time to think.
I was angry, he wrote. Brutal with you.
She laughed, her chuckle reverberating through his body. "You do not understand brutal," she murmured. "Last night was what I wanted. I went to Heaven, too."
He jerked and pulled back enough to see her face. Immortal? he stroked on her palm.
Her gaze dropped; her body shrank. But he didn't release her. Instead, he pulled her tighter against him, even if the motion made his ribs burn. He held her in silence and wondered how to salve her pain. He understood her unspoken message. She was not an Immortal yet, and the knowledge cut at her.
Then she touched him, with frustration that made her strokes hurt. You? Immortal?
"No. But I understand, I think, why you work so hard to go there. The place... The room of lights..."
"The antechamber. The Chamber of a Thousand Swinging Lanterns," she said with awe.
He nodded. That was where he had gone. "It is like the light shines through you. Even in the darkness, it is bright and holy. And you are beautiful, too." He shook his head. How to describe the indescribable? "It's like... It feels..."
Good. That was the character she stroked on his chest. Heaven feels like all is good.
"Yes," he murmured. "I felt like I was good."
"What did she say, Kui Yu?"
Kui Yu took his wife's hand, turning it palm-side up as he stroked his words into her palm. He didn't know if the guards were listening, didn't know if they could hear. But this was too personal to be overheard. So he took the time to write it slowly to only Shi Po.
Goddess asked question.
She lifted her head up when he stopped, her face taut with interest. He forced himself to continue. She asked what I would give up.
Shi Po didn't move. She didn't react, except to stroke another word.
Again. Then she held up her wrist, telling him to write it on the smooth flesh there.
Goddess asked, What would I give up? he wrote.
He felt her shiver in his arms, and he wondered at its cause. Did she tremble from his touch? Or because the question meant more than he knew? He waited, but her only response was another question.
For what? she asked. What would you get?
He sighed, choosing to speak aloud. "Whatever I most want." He didn't even have to look at her to know her question. What did he most want? "I don't know," he lied. "I didn't answer. And then I fell back to Earth."
She stroked her comment onto his chest. Soldiers interrupted.
No, he returned. I was cast out. No answer.
She lifted her head, her expression puzzled. He acted on impulse, moving swiftly before he changed his mind. Before she could ask another question, he kissed her. He pressed his mouth to hers while simultaneously gripping her tight. He would not let her run from him.
She reared back, as he had expected. It was such an unusual thing for them, for most Chinese. Kisses were for sex, a precursor to creating children. And they had not worked thusly in a very, very long time.
But he persisted. He liked the taste of her, the scent that was only her. Her mouth was closed, but he stroked his tongue along the seam. He felt her shudder again, a more violent trembling than before, one that made her gasp and give him entrance. He took her then. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, wanting to own her, needing to feel her respond.
She didn't. She shifted and planted her hands on his chest. Then she shoved him backward with a surprising amount of strength.
He fell back, his head nearly cracking on the wall, his ribs fiery with pain. She scrambled away from him. Her breath came in harsh pants; her hands clutched her tattered skirt closed.
"Why?" she rasped.
He frowned. "Why what?"
"Why do you kiss me?" Her eyes narrowed, and she hissed, "Do you seek to return to her? To Heaven?"
He scrambled to answer. He could only voice the truth, though his tone came out colder than he intended. "I am a man. You are a woman and my wife. Why should I not kiss you?"
"Do you now have an answer?" she asked. "Do you know what you want?"
He wanted only her. That was all he knew just then—her taste, her body, their passion. But she didn't comprehend his need to simply touch and be touched by her. For Shi Po, sex had a purpose, a goal. Either for children or to gain Heaven; there could be no other reason.
Rather than explain, he simply shrugged and gave the answer she expected. "Yes, I wish to talk more with the goddess."
She grimaced, but she relaxed a little. "You cannot think to do this here."
He glanced around the dark, smelly room. He knew the guards waited just beyond the walls, probably watching them right now, listening to their every word and hoping to take something of importance to their commander. He knew this, and yet he didn't care.
"Why wait? All depends upon the General's pleasure." And the prayer that Lun Po wasn't as much of an idiot as he appeared.
His wife took a moment to internalize his words, and he could see when she finally understood. They waited upon the General's pleasure. If the man chose, they could be locked up for a very, very long time. Days. Weeks. Years. The Qing were known to forget their prisoners. Or kill them.
She abruptly ran to the door and bellowed out the barred window. "Guards! Guards! I demand to speak to General Kang immediately! Guards!"
There came no answer.
"Guards!"
Kui Yu joined her at the door. His wife clutched her skirt closed about her hips, but it barely hid anything. So he wrapped their blanket about her shoulde
rs, then stood beside her, one hand pressed to her lower back, while they both waited for a response.
"Guards!" she cried again.
Nothing. Kui Yu didn't know if she had a plan or just wanted to escape. Either way, it didn't matter. He was ready to try bargaining again.
"Guards!" Kui Yu bellowed.
Finally, then came a response: a creak of armor and heavy booted footfalls. A face appeared. A soldier, but one older than any of those Kui Yu had encountered before.
"We must speak to General Kang," he said firmly. "We have a bargain to make."
The man's grizzled face split into a lewd grin. "I bet you do," he chortled as his eyes went to Shi Po's chest.
His wife shrank backward, deeper into the shadows, while Kui Yu stepped forward. "That's not your concern," he snapped. "Deliver the message." In truth he had no idea what bargain he would strike. General Kang had not seemed like a bribable man—at least not with gold or property. All the General wanted was news of his son, and they had none to offer. Still, this was worth a try, especially as they had few other options.
But the aged guard didn't move. Instead, he stood there chortling, as if they were some great joke.
Shi Po spoke up. Though Kui Yu tried to block the cur's view of her, she pushed him aside and spoke in a voice that was soft and gentle, and so very feminine. "Please, sir, why do you laugh at us?"
The man continued to chuckle, but the sound faded, his embarrassment mounting as she gazed at him with wide, limpid eyes. The laughter stopped. Where intimidation hadn't worked, softness had. The guard finally explained. "The General left for Peking this morning. Got some urgent news."
"He's gone?" Kui Yu snapped. "So, we are to be released!" The man hadn't said anything of the kind, but perhaps they could bluster to such an outcome.
"You're to be held until further notice," the guard answered coldly.
Shi Po stepped forward. "But sir, surely you can see this won't do. I have children."
"And gold," added Kui Yu. "I could—"
"Save your breath. Any man who helps you escape will be flogged then hanged. Kang's watching for bribes."
Kui Yu leaned in. "He needn't know. You can hide the gold until—"
"The General said he'd kill me on principle, bribe or no. You have to be here when he returns or I'm dead. My family, too."
"The Qing go too far," Kui Yu muttered, hoping to spark a patriotic response from a fellow Han.
But the man only chortled. "He pays us well for obedience and punishes us for dereliction. I got no complaints with the Qing." And with that, the guard turned and walked away, going back to the guardroom. Or just out of sight so that he could listen. Either way, it didn't matter; the man would not help them escape. And without the General to free them, there would be no release either.
They were stuck. Possibly for a long, long time.
Kui Yu stroked his wife's back, afraid of what he felt. Her body was unnaturally still, her muscles clenched tighter than rock. She was terrified.
Hope, he stroked against her back. Hope.
She didn't answer, either with body or voice. She simply stood, looking out their barred window, her expression bleak.
"Shi Po...," he began, not knowing what to say.
"Kill me," she begged.
He flinched, and she abruptly spun around.
"Kill me. We're only being held because of me. Because he thinks I know about his son."
"Shi Po—" Her name came out as a warning growl, but she didn't seem to notice.
"You must be released. To take care of our children. If I am dead—"
"Stop!" He held up his hand and shut his eyes, trying to think. Thankfully she understood, and he took his time, fitting pieces together.
"You knew this was a risk," he said slowly, and as he opened his eyes, he saw her nod. "Your plan was to die last night. Then there would be no reason for General Kang to hold me. I would have my ignorance, and you would be dead."
"You can still—"
"Enough," he said, but this time he spoke more softly, allowing his weariness to show. He felt every ache, every injury as he walked to their straw pallet and dropped down. "There will be no more talk of death," he commanded.
She stepped toward him. "I am not seeking immortality this time, Kui Yu. I am trying to think of our children, of our—"
"The boys are fine at their tutor's. At least for another month."
"But you—"
"General Kang is gone!" He took a deep breath to calm his raging temper, which took some time. She stood before him, her head bowed, her body still. "General Kang has gone to Peking," he said slowly. "It matters not what we do now. If we live or die makes no difference to him." He raised his gaze to show the anger that boiled inside him. "But I care, Shi Po. And I will have no more talk of death."
She didn't say anything. Indeed, for a moment he wondered if she'd even heard. But in time, she shuddered. The movement shook her entire body, and she dropped to her knees before him.
He winced at the sight. Yet she was always at her strongest when she appeared weak. Over the years, he had learned to be wary when she dropped to her knees. So he waited in tense silence until she finally spoke, her voice a breathy whisper that cut him to the core.
"It makes no difference because General Kang has left? Or because I am not the reason we are imprisoned?"
"Do not be stupid, woman!" he snapped. And then, in the deafening silence that followed, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Of all the times to be too tired to mind his tongue. Of all the times... He sighed. Shi Po settled beside him on the pallet.
They knew each other so well. How many times had he ever called her "woman"? How many times had he snapped at her without cause? Only once, and it had been because he felt guilty. Only once, and it was when he'd been at fault.
He opened his eyes. She was seated beside him, her eyes wide in the darkness, her body so still she might have been meditating. But she wasn't; she was simply waiting. Listening. Acting the feminine aspect of yielding acceptance, and he hated it.
"Do not be a Tigress now," he muttered. "Not around me."
"Then what should I be?" she asked, her voice casual as if he were a stranger.
My wife, he wanted to howl. But that was not true. She had always been his wife. And he had always wanted more.
"Give me your hand," he said.
She complied without hesitation, and that simple act reassured him. He cradled her hand in his palm, stroking his thumb along her fingers and allowing memory to take hold.
"Do you remember the first time I held your hand?" he asked. He pulled her closer and extended her arm so that he could write messages on her wrist.
I sell merchandise to whites.
She answered the question he'd spoken aloud.
"You have held my hand many times, my husband. I do not recall the first." Meanwhile, she stretched out her other hand to write her own question. But she was not close enough, so he helped her scramble nearer. She settled facing him, her knees pressed against his waist, her hip pulled tight against his thigh. Her tiny hand brushed open his torn shirt to write upon his chest.
Illegal?
He shrugged. To some, he answered. Meanwhile, his thoughts traveled back to her hand in his, her face so nearby.
"It was the day we wed, Shi Po." He lifted up her fingers to play with them, to trace the shape of her tiny, fragile bones. "During the wedding feast."
"You held my hand." He heard her tone soften. "My family was scandalized. Auntie said it showed your low class that you would seek to touch me before retiring to the bedchamber." The General accuses you of worse.
He stilled. Worse? Meanwhile, he continued their other conversation. "I didn't know if it was you. I didn't believe I was actually marrying you."
"So you held my hand?" He didn't say. He implied.
"I touched whatever I could of you. I didn't know if it was you or someone else." He was fishing for information.
"Who?" she asked. "If not me, who?"
"Your aunt," he pronounced.
He felt the jerk of her body, the sudden withdrawal of focus from what they'd been writing.
"My aunt? You thought my father would try to marry you to Auntie Ting?"
He nodded. "She was an impoverished widow. I was a poor wedding candidate."
"And so you held my hand."
"I was trying to see if your hand was young or old. If the skin—"
"Sagged or felt fresh?" she interrupted.
"Yes."
She shook her head, laughter in her voice. "But Auntie Ting is a beautiful woman. You could not have told by her hand."
He didn't answer. Truthfully, her aunt was a vicious witch. But yes, many would believe her beautiful.
Is she a Tigress? he asked. Is that how she stays young?
His wife paused before she answered. When she did, her strokes were slow and careful. She spends much money on youthfulness potions. And she harvests yang when needed.
Kui Yu acknowledged Shi Po's words with only part of his mind. He had known the truth, but there was yet a more pressing question to ask. A more important answer he needed. And yet, it took a great deal of courage for him to press the question into her wrist.
Do you regret our marriage?
She frowned. Even in the dim light he could see her body tense. Then she shook her head. Never. There was a pause. Do you?
No.
They had both answered firmly, both with little hesitation, and yet he knew they both lied. How could she not wonder? He certainly did. How could she not have regrets? He had a thousand.
What do we do now? she asked.
He was so distracted, he had trouble understanding her question. In the end, she had to write it twice, and still he had no answer.
"I cannot think clearly," he finally confessed. I don't know, he wrote into her wrist.
"The air here is unhealthy," she said. "It poisons the body and the energy."
And there was his answer. A way to pass the time. Perhaps even a way to bridge the gap that still separated them. We must practice, he wrote. To purify yin and yang.
He felt the refusal in her body, felt her stiffen. The Manchurians call practice immoral. We could be killed, she wrote.
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