The Way of the Tigress 1-4

by Jade Lee - The Way of the Tigress 1-4

  The Encyclopedia of Chinese Medicine,

  Frank WT Chung, CA, OMD

  Chapter 2

  Charlotte felt as if her brain were on fire. Outwardly she knew she looked composed and quiet, but inside her entire body crackled with... what? She'd found scrolls in Joanna's room. Scrolls with Chinese writing and paintings of naked men and women. And their organs! She tried to take a breath to calm herself, but her mind still crackled. The images had been large and naked. And painted in color!

  Plus, they looked very similar to Ken Jin's real-life organ she'd seen just an hour ago. She wondered briefly if his penis could do some of the things she'd seen in the scrolls. And if she were his partner, would she look as serenely happy as the women pictured? And how had the painted woman put that huge thing in her mouth anyway? But she was drawn so happy—smug even. Something wonderful definitely came from the man's organ.

  The satchel banged hard against her thigh as she descended the stairs, bringing her attention back to the present. Charlotte was excruciatingly aware of the three silk-wrapped bamboo cases she carried. Indeed, it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to find a bag that completely covered the naughty picture scrolls. Obviously, Joanna had meant for her to find them, because she'd hidden them in their secret hidey-hole where the two had been sharing diaries, notes, and special bits of ribbon since the beginning of time. Well, since they'd become best friends at the age of ten. It was a child's game perfect for little girls, but no little girl had put these scrolls there. No little girl could possibly understand what was written on them. And no properly bred young woman would ever read them.

  Charlotte paused on the last step into the foyer. How lowering it was to realize one was not a proper young woman. She had read them. Or rather, she had read what little she could, since the scrolls were written in Chinese on fragile vellum and wrapped in costly silks.

  How had Joanna come across what were obviously valuable, ancient texts? And when had Charlotte's most learned and serious friend crossed over to the side of rampant debauchery that filled the rest of Shanghai? Had she been given the scrolls by her husband? If so, why? They couldn't possibly be doing those things. But of course, they could, she admonished herself; they were married after all. And wasn't that what married people did? But was Joanna doing all of that? Everything pictured in that scroll. Everything?

  For a single horrified moment, Charlotte realized she ought to return the scrolls. After all, Joanna and her husband might need them. The scrolls were clearly reference material meant to teach one how to have marital relations. Therefore, Joanna would need the scrolls, whereas Charlotte did not.

  Damn, why hadn't she ever accepted a suitor for her hand? She could be married right now with scrolls of her own. But none of the sycophants and lechers she knew had ever appealed to her. And besides, one mention of William—because of course he would have to live with her—and they all ran screaming. Which meant she had no man nearby to read scrolls with. Which meant she ought to give them back.

  Except Joanna wasn't here to use them, and scrolls as ancient as these shouldn't go to waste. Charlotte was sure that there were some images that did not... well, that she could perform without losing her virginity. After all, if Joanna was lost to the realm of sinful indulgences of the flesh, then... well, wasn't it time Charlotte did a little exploring on her own? Which meant she was definitely keeping these scrolls.

  "Is there something wrong, Miss Charlotte?" asked Ken Jin, his voice further exciting her already jumpy nerves.

  She spun back, her voice cracking. "What? Oh no! I just... I mean, I thought I'd... But of course, I can't now. I mean—" She clapped her jaw shut, forcibly cutting off her words as she gained some measure of control. "I'm fine, Ken Jin, thank you for asking." Did his organ exude a silvery mist like in the pictures? Her friends had never said so, but...

  She yanked her attention to old Mr. Yi, Joanna's butler. Forcing her lips into as serene a smile as she could manage, she spoke in what she prayed was a calm, collected manner. "I have left a note for Joanna and am most anxious to see her. When will she return?"

  Mr. Yi bowed deeply. "I do not know, Miss Charlotte, but I will see she receives your letter the moment she returns."

  "Of course, of course," Charlotte murmured. "But where did she go? Perhaps if it is somewhere close, I could join her."

  Mr. Yi shook his head. "Aie, no, Miss Charlotte, I do not know her location."

  "But surely you know when she left."

  He bowed again but didn't answer.

  "Was she alone?"

  Another bow. No answer. Damn, just how did one get answers out of other people's servants? And did all Chinese men have penises that large and red? Even old servant men? Or were the scrolls exaggerated?

  "Perhaps I could speak with her father?" Charlotte squeaked out. "When will Mr. Crane return?"

  Another bow. No wonder the butler was so bent with age. Were Chinese men's organs heavy? He said, "Mr. Crane is away on business. I do not know when he will return." Was there a funereal tone to that statement? Charlotte didn't know. She couldn't tell which words were significant, what was merely her imagination, and how she could find out what was written on those damned scrolls without Joanna to translate.

  "Please, Mr. Yi, I must speak with Joanna right away."

  Again, the deep bow. Clearly it was the Chinese version of a shrug and the old man was not going to help her.

  "Oh, never mind," she snapped, her irritation getting the best of her. "Let me know the instant she returns, Mr. Yi. The very instant." Then she paused. "I will be in a most generous mood the moment I hear of her return." She stared at the old man, trying to read his wrinkled face. Did he understand what she meant—that she would tip him should he bring her any significant news?

  "I am desperate for information about Joanna. And I can be generous—"

  "Apologies, Miss Charlotte," interrupted Ken Jin, "but we are due to pick up William now."

  Charlotte frowned at her father's servant. His penis was the same size as on the scroll. But was he unusual? "Are we supposed to pick up William now? But I thought—"

  "You are probably right, Miss Charlotte," he interrupted again, his demeanor solicitous. "We should check on your brother, just to make sure no ill has befallen him."

  Charlotte pressed her lips together. She wasn't fooled. Ken Jin didn't like her questioning Mr. Yi, even when she did it subtly. The Chinese were protective of each other. But this was important. She had to get Joanna to translate these scrolls! Which meant she had to make Mr. Yi understand.

  Abandoning subtlety altogether, she fished a guinea out of her reticule. It took a moment, and she winced at the expense, but she had to know. She pressed the coin into the old man's hand. "As soon as you know anything, Mr. Yi. I am so desperately worried about my friend."

  The butler stared at her, his dark eyes watering. He nodded. "Yes, yes, Miss Charlotte, we are all most worried."

  "We are very late, Miss Charlotte," Ken Jin cut in again. "Master William will be anxious."

  "Master William is in Heaven right now, running around with He Be," she snapped, unable to control her frustration. Why now of all times did Ken Jin have to voice sudden concern about punctuality? Didn't he see she was trying to accomplish something with Mr. Yi? But as she turned back to the aged butler, all she received was a blank expression. She sighed. She'd just wasted a guinea.

  "Very well," she said to Ken Jin. His eyes were downcast, his demeanor apologetic. Still, she knew he was not nearly as submissive as he seemed. She had witnessed his management of her drunken father on multiple occasions. Though smaller in statue, Ken Jin often strong-armed her parent to bed—and all without alerting her mother or disturbing William. In truth, she knew of no one—Chinese or English—who so seamlessly kept life's unpleasantness at bay. An extremely attractive asset in a man. Unless, of course, he began managing her.

  "We may leave now, Ken Jin," she said with as much regal disdain as she could muster, give
n that she carried three scrolls of questionable moral content.

  Mr. Yi held out her bonnet, and Charlotte grimaced as she put it on. The humid Shanghai air had already frizzed her hair into a tangled mass. Shoving the annoying knots into a hat was only going to make matters worse. But it was the custom and so she complied; it was important to observe such niceties when one was ferrying pictures of naked male organs. A hysterical giggle rose inside her chest, but she ruthlessly suppressed it. She could not start laughing like a hyena; people would wonder what she was carrying.

  Given that particular thought, she took extra care while climbing into the carriage. She was being very casual about the satchel, letting it flop this way and that, because, truly, there was nothing important inside it. Nothing unusual, just silly girl stuff of no importance to anyone. Which is how it hit too hard against the seat, just as she stepped into the carriage, and the whole thing upended.

  It wasn't a complete disaster. Nothing spilled all the way out. The bag just tipped far enough to half spill and for her to gasp. Don't gasp! she ordered herself. There's nothing important here. Then she hastily shoved the ancient cases as far down as they would go, and tied the bag closed so hard the cord snapped.

  Double damn!

  Charlotte looked up at Ken Jin. He was calmly walking around to the other side of the carriage where he would jump up and take the reins, but he had been behind her when the satchel spilled. He might have seen. She narrowed her eyes, trying to read his expression. No change, no indication that he'd seen anything scandalous. Besides, he was a servant. Who could he tell about the scrolls? He stuck needles into himself, for goodness' sake. And even if he told, who would believe him?

  Everyone, that's who. Servants talked—no matter what race they were—and absolutely everyone believed the nonsense they spewed. She prayed he hadn't seen, but how to be sure?

  She didn't know. All she could do was sit calmly beside him while clutching the top of the satchel closed, closed, closed. Lord, she had to relax her grip. Her fingers were going all tingly.

  Ken Jin took his seat and gathered the reins just as he always did. His expression remained placid, his demeanor exactly as it always was. Clearly he'd seen nothing untoward. Besides, she realized, what if he had? All he'd know was that she carried bamboo scroll cases wrapped in faded blue silk stitched with a rather hard-to-discern pastoral scene. No one could see the pictures inside. The scrolls could be any of a thousand different Chinese texts. They could be Confucian writings on appropriate female behavior; and a more boring text had never cursed the planet. How she and Joanna had laughed and laughed over those particular dictates.

  Charlotte exhaled on a heady release of air. She was safe. No one knew what she carried. Soon she would be home. She could order William into a bath under Mei Li's supervision. She'd even suggest He Be bathe as well, which would keep everyone occupied for at least an hour. Then she would disappear into her bedroom, lock the door, and peruse Joanna's scandalous scrolls at her leisure.

  Very soon.

  Except, she abruptly noticed, they weren't headed home at all.

  * * *

  Ken Jin's thoughts felt muddy. He couldn't possibly have seen what he had; Miss Charlotte couldn't possibly have those scrolls—a rare and ancient copy of the Yellow Emperor's discourse with the Plain Goddess, the learned responses and instructional materials developed by the first Tigress under the direct tutelage of the Rainbow Goddess? But what other three-thousand-year-old scrolls would have those covers: dark silk embroidered with a simple pastoral scene until one examined closely what the people were doing beneath the trees and in harmony with nature? Where had Miss Charlotte gotten them?

  The answer was obvious. Miss Joanna had been in training at the Tigress school, and she must have gotten the scrolls somehow. Indeed, Ken Jin could see the workings of providence. He was one of the few people in Shanghai who would recognize the scrolls, would know to whom they truly belonged. So, of course they had found their way to him.

  Yes, Miss Joanna must have taken them when she'd left the Tigress school, but Heaven had intervened with her hasty departure this morning. For whatever reason, she had left the scrolls behind for Miss Charlotte to find. And he would take them from Miss Charlotte and return them to their rightful owner—the school and the Tigress Shi Po. Assuming, of course, he could find an easy way to separate his employer's daughter from her new find.

  He glanced sideways at her. Goodness, her yin was flowing strong. Her lips were red, her cheeks flushed, and her breath came in tiny little pants. She'd obviously looked at the scrolls and her impulsive nature had taken hold. She would never willingly surrender them now.

  He could simply take them from her. He was quick enough, strong enough—even clever enough perhaps to offer her adequate diversion. But the whites were a volatile race, driven by their passions. He knew more than one First Boy who had been fired without references on a simple whim. Not to mention his employer valued family harmony most of all, and the Wicks family harmony held solely because of Miss Charlotte's stable influence. Upset her, and the entire family would rapidly collapse. In turn that would devastate his own finances. No; Ken Jin had to find a way to separate Miss Charlotte from her scrolls without upsetting her or risking his position. And he had to do it within the twenty minutes it took to drive to the Tigress school.

  "Um, Ken Jin?" The young miss's voice was high and tight. "Where are we going?"

  "To a school, Miss Charlotte."

  "A school? But why—"

  "I learned something from the servants, Miss Charlotte. About Miss Joanna."

  That got her attention. She straightened in her seat and her hand slackened a little on her satchel. "What is it? Tell me immediately!"

  Ken Jin nodded, but he took his time. She had to be tantalized without actually learning very much. "They believe she was a student at a very special school."

  "Yes?" she prompted when he fell silent.

  "The servants weren't sure which school, of course. Miss Joanna was very secretive about it."

  "Of course, of course. Joanna was always going off to study one thing or another." Her gaze dropped to the scrolls, and Charlotte tucked them tighter against her skirt.

  "This is the only school I know, Miss Charlotte, that might take in a white student in secret. And where she might meet—"

  "Her Chinese husband! Of course! I overheard a maid talking. She said Joanna had a Chinese husband." Charlotte shook her head, emotion coloring her skin a fiery red. "Imagine, marrying a Chinaman. I cannot quite credit it." She sighed. "But if anyone were to do it, it would be Joanna. She has such a passion for Chinese things..."

  But that wouldn't explain the decision of her Chinese husband, Ken Jin thought. Imagine, being so desperate for milky thighs as to actually marry an Englishwoman. He couldn't credit it either.

  Miss Charlotte twisted in her seat to survey their surroundings. "Where is this school? Obviously not in the English territory or any of the foreign concessions. There would be no reason for secrecy if that were true."

  Ken Jin didn't respond. For all that she was white and a woman, Miss Charlotte had a quick mind. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the school had to be native. And so it was. Soon she would have to hide her face and hair as he bribed their way into the only Chinese territory left inside Shanghai.

  Miss Charlotte took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "Exactly what kind of school are we going to, Ken Jin? What was Joanna studying?"

  "You must ask the director of the school," he responded smoothly. Ken Jin had great faith in the Tigress Shi Po. If anyone could handle an overly curious white woman, it would be she.

  "But, Ken Jin, you have to know something. What—"

  "You must be silent now, Miss Charlotte. We will be in Chinese territory soon."

  "But—"

  "Unless you wish to remain behind?"

  "Of course not, but—"

  "Then you must cover your head and remain very quiet."
r />   "I cannot see the reason that our two countries—"

  "Please, Miss Charlotte."

  She subsided then, though her sigh was so heartfelt it actually rocked the carriage. Ken Jin hid his amusement. How long before her innate life energy forced her to express herself again? To speak or fidget or even to touch him simply because her mortal form could not contain the qi that bounced about inside her? He hoped it would last at least three minutes—long enough for them to pass through the gate and get five houses away from the soldiers.

  She was already beginning to stir, so he shot her a warning glare. She immediately stilled, pressing her lips together, and he nodded in approval. He did not want her talking. He would much rather she touched him in her anxiety. The sight of her slender white fingers on his body—even with the protective covering of his shirt and coat—would be enough to stir his yang fire. He did not understand his spirit's love of white hands or long unpainted fingernails, but he had always responded to such a sight.

  Perhaps it stemmed from that first night when he looked up and beheld her—a blond goddess in ethereal white—watching as he guided her father across the threshold. In that moment, she had appeared divine to him, and from then on, white women stirred his blood as no others could.

  When they were past the gate, he sent her another warning look: Don't speak. She nodded, her jade eyes huge. His dragon stirred in appreciation. Master William had once told him about white people's legends, about dragons who hoarded wealth—gold, diamonds, and emeralds. Never once had the boy mentioned jade. But there was great power in that most precious of Chinese stones, a subtle beauty only revealed when light shone from behind or within it, and such was the way with Miss Charlotte's eyes. Normally, they were a dull, murky green. But sometimes something happened and her internal light sparked. She would come alive and her eyes seemed to glow like jade before a flame.