"Yang is like wood," he said, his voice thick. "It fuels the fire that makes the yin boil." He reached out, unable to stop himself from stroking the top of her breast. A single caress, but his dragon surged in response, nearly taking him to his knees.
She looked up at him, her shoulders shifting with her soft, shallow breaths. "This feels terribly strange."
He knelt, unable to stop himself. "You must remove your stockings."
Her cheeks turned an even darker rose. "But then..." She stopped and looked away. "Yes, of course. I am being silly."
He touched her chin to bring her gaze back to him. "Qi requires absolute honesty. If we are to purify your yin, do not pollute it by hiding your thoughts." She didn't answer, and he could tell he would have to press further. "Why didn't you take off your stockings?"
She tried to turn away, but he did not allow it. "I told you I was being silly. I will take them off—"
"Answer my question, Charlotte."
She paused, her lips pressing tightly together. But in the end, her entire body sagged on a sigh. "I didn't want to be completely naked. I don't know why. You have... we have done..." Again the heavy sigh. "I don't understand myself."
"Clothing is a covering. Even when it hides only the feet, our spirit can cower behind it."
"I am not cowering."
"I know." He released her chin and was gratified to see that she did not look away. She met his gaze with an angry flash.
"I will take off my stockings."
"And as you do, you will shed the petty thoughts and dishonest acts that pollute your spirit."
She bent her knee to bring her leg closer to her hands, flashing him a look of irritation. "I am not dishonest or impure." Her voice broke on the last word, and he knew she was worried on that account.
"All people have done wrong at one time or another." He moved backward to allow her more room. "And all people think that—"
"You're a servant!" Then she gasped, frozen with shock. "Oh, Ken Jin! Oh Lord, I didn't mean..."
But of course she had meant it, and that stung. Though why he let it hurt, he had no idea.
"Ken Jin—" she began, but she obviously had no idea what she meant to say.
He stopped her with a single press of his fingers on her lips. "I am a servant," he said, the words coarse in his throat. "And you are embarrassed to be completely naked before me. Why?" It made little sense, especially considering what she had allowed him to do earlier.
She didn't answer, but she didn't look away either. She simply stared at him as she rolled down one stocking. And he suddenly understood.
"It is not that I'm a servant," he said softly, "but that I'm Chinese. All the maids who help you dress and bathe are English." Her right stocking was off. She shifted her weight and bent her other leg, but Ken Jin stopped her. He put his hand on her knee and waited until she looked at him. "What we do is not English, xiao jie." He used the Chinese word for little girl, and she flinched at the term. He wanted her to understand that in this she was just beginning as a young Chinese girl would.
"I am not a child," she said, her tone flat.
"You are not a woman yet either."
Her gaze rose to meet his, but it was not easy for her. Charlotte's movements were jerky, her voice even more so. "And this... this will make me a woman?"
Was she sneering? Probably. Which meant that she didn't understand. "Not in the fashion you mean. Not in the way of little boys giggling as they peer through peepholes. Not in the way of a whore who spreads her legs and calls herself a divine creature." They were both excruciatingly aware of her position on the floor, one leg bent, the other extended, her pleasure grotto disconcertingly exposed.
"Then how?"
"We make your qi pure and strong. A woman's qi is one of the most powerful forces on this earth."
She took a deep breath, clearly trying to understand. "In England, a girl becomes a woman when her virginity is taken."
"In China, a girl becomes a woman when her inner strength is powerful enough to manage a home and raise her children."
"I am already managing a household."
True enough. "But you cannot defend William yet. Not from your mother's energies."
Tired of the delay, Ken Jin began to roll her other stocking down her leg. She made no demur, though he felt her leg twitch beneath his fingertips. He meant to move quickly. The less time spent bathed in her yin heat, the better for his clarity of purpose. But once again, her energies defeated him. He lingered as he worked, making the simple removal of her stocking into a seduction, a sensuous slide of fabric intermixed with the deeper stroke of his fingers.
He ached to touch her; and indeed, as the cotton cleared her knee, his hands shifted. While his left continued to slide her stocking free, his right cupped the back of her thigh. He massaged deeply, pressing his fingers into the Commanding Activity point before pulling the energy higher, toward the Rushing Door. And when her stocking was at last lifted away, he set her leg away from him rather than back to her cinnabar cave. In short, he opened her to him.
"It is time, xiao jie, to become a woman. Will you accept this?"
She nodded. The only indication of her nervousness came from the quick dart of her tongue against her lips.
"Put your hands on your breasts. Press your fingers just inside your nipples."
Her eyes widened, but she obeyed.
"Move them in ever-expanding circles. In your mind, repeat these words: I disperse the pollutants. I remove the blockages."
He said the words first in Chinese, then again in English, to be sure she understood. Then he watched as she closed her eyes and began the circles. Her lips moved as she repeated his words, and he felt a smile curve his lips when he realized she spoke in Chinese. Whether she realized it or not, she was becoming a proper Chinese Tigress.
"Excellent," he said. Then, without even thinking, he betrayed them both. He shifted his right hand to rest palm-side up. Then he slipped the tip of his finger inside her.
She gasped and reared backward, but he pursued. He pushed his index finger all the way in. "Move your hands!" he ordered. "You are throwing off pollutants. You are—"
"I am purifying my yin," she said in Chinese.
"Yes." And he could feel that she truly was. As she closed her eyes and repeated his words, her yin circled his finger, matching the movement of her hands. It was growing stronger. The dissonance in her energy was fading, and pure, beautiful yin flowed out and around him. Her cinnabar cave was like a furnace, filled to bursting with female heat.
He slowly, carefully, worked a second finger inside her. He wanted her desperately. Oh, to drink of her strength, to fill his body with the heat of her furnace! He began to curl his fingers slightly, stroking against the roof of her cinnabar cave. His other hand pressed against her belly such that her Gate of Origin was engaged from both outside and in.
"Reverse direction," he ordered. "Move your hands in circles toward your nipples."
He looked up at her. Her skin was flushed, her breasts large and beautiful as she stroked them; but it was her eyes that caught him. Normally a light blue, they now pierced him with the force of her determination. She continued to murmur and chant, but it was the wrong one now.
"'I stoke the fire. The yin builds and builds,'" he growled. When she didn't understand, he repeated it. "Say it! 'I stoke the fire. The yin builds and builds!'"
She matched his words, and as she spoke she leaned forward. She echoed his sounds as well, growling and hissing as he had. And all the while, her hands circled her breasts ever tighter.
Without being told, she pulled at her nipples. Without his order, her thighs fell open and trembled, pushing against his hand even as he thrust his fingers inside her.
"More yin," he ordered. "Focus!"
She gasped as he braced himself, using his knees to shove her legs farther apart. He had two fingers fully inside her now. Could he manage a third? She was slick, but small. And yet, even as he hovered in uncertainty, she arc
hed against him. She pushed herself down onto his hand and he spread his hand to catch her. Two fingers delved deep inside to fully stroke her cave roof. His thumb slid up to circle her yin pearl, and his other two fingers slid backward to press into the place of Inner Meeting. All throbbed with the force of her yin.
"Such power," he breathed. "Do you feel it?"
"Is it pure, Ken Jin?" she gasped. "Is it enough?"
"No," he lied. "Focus, Charlotte. Build the power until your entire body sings with it."
"I stoke the fire," she chanted. "The yin builds and builds. I stoke the fire. The yin builds and builds."
Her yin had long since drawn into his arm and blood. He felt it swirl around and through him. He watched her hands on her beautiful breasts: circling, circling, tighter and tighter. He echoed her movements with his fingers, his hand, and power followed their movements. It built in both of them. He felt it push to her nipples just as it roared through his body straight to his mind. It burned in his blood and the smoke fogged his mind.
"I stoke the fire," she chanted, her words throbbing in his veins. "The yin builds and builds," she cried, and both their thighs began to pulse. The energy was rising, drawing up from her toes. Without looking, he knew her feet were clenched. His body mirrored hers, and his entire body was pulling together.
Her knees were rising as the power curled inward; his hips were arching forward. Her hands were narrowing, drawing close to her nipples again. And his thumb extended, poised to open the gate with a single flick.
What he did was insanity. Purified yin could enslave a man. Touch it once, and you craved it forever. And yet, it was too late for him. He felt it. He touched it. He had plunged his hand deep inside it.
"I stoke the fire," she said.
He withdrew slightly, sliding his thumb between her lotus petals. Then he pushed deeper, rolling his thumb in a long, wide circle around her yin pearl. All the while, he watched the movement of her hands.
"The yin builds!" he said.
Another circle. She was almost there.
"And builds!"
She pinched her nipples. He rolled his finger across her pearl, and finally, at the right moment, he pushed.
Fire roared through him. Yang leaped from his belly and dragon to pour into her. The energy flew from him while his dragon tried to span the distance between their bodies. And while his seed was gone forever, lost to the inside of his trousers, the power made the leap. His yang essence wasn't contained only in the dragon cloud; that energy had bridged the distance, flowing through his hand into her cauldron.
He emptied himself in moments, his body and spirit depleted of all his yang storage. Charlotte expanded. Inside, her energy built, her power intensified. On and on and on, her body contracted around his hand. Her head flew back in ecstasy while her internal pump pushed the energy upward, ever higher. She let out a cry of stunned amazement, and then she stilled. Her body became lax as her spirit left her.
Ken Jin stared at her in shock, his release leaving him hollow and cold as he realized the hideous truth. His yang, purified and strengthened through years of devoted study, had just taken Charlotte Wicks to Heaven.
March 18, 1895
Dearest younger brother Feng Jin:
I tear my heart and beat my breast at the most wretched news I heard today. Truly, can both our parents and our most cherished grandmother be dead? It is not possible, and yet I am told that the Wen family acupuncturists are almost all gone. Only one practitioner remains—namely, yourself.
I shall come to Peking next week to pay my respects.
In great wretchedness,
Your brother.
Ken Jin
* * *
March 24, 1895
Kind Stranger,
Acupuncturist Wen Feng Jin spoke about your letter. Pray do not distress yourself on behalf of his family. Grieve instead for China and the curse that haunts our great land.
It is true that the Wen family has suffered greatly of late, but only recently has Mr. Wen discovered the true cause of their misfortune. The Wen grandmother, steeped in the confusion of old age, wrote often to an evil sorcerer. He is a young man, once of Chinese descent, who early showed his deceptive ways in a crime of great magnitude. He now works for the barbarians, aiding them in their depravity as they poison all of China.
The Wen family elders died because of this association with the sorcerer. Grandmother Wen corresponded with this evil man, and in response, Heaven cursed the family with a sickness that claimed her life and the lives of her son and daughter-in-law. Late at night, neighbors still hear her ghostly wails of despair. I can only pray that the evil sorcerer does as well.
Fortunately, Mr. Wen was untainted by her deception and so escaped death, as did Mr. Wen's other brother. Indeed it is believed that the eunuch Wen's devotion to the Emperor is all that prevents total disaster for the family. His service to the Emperor balances out the evil perpetrated by the sorcerer.
Perhaps one day the sorcerer will understand the horror he does. Perhaps he will recall the honored traditions of his ancestors. All the Wen family prays earnestly that he returns to the appropriate relationship with his elders and Emperor.
In the Wen family, of course, that means the second son must devote himself to the Emperor's service. Indeed, eunuch Wen tells us that the medics outside the Forbidden City are most effective, and few die of castration. Such an act of devotion would most certainly dispel the evil cloud that darkens the Wen family home.
If only the evil sorcerer Ken Jin would forsake his cursed ways and devote himself to his proper place. They say castration is not nearly as painful as most believe. A single stroke removing stalk and pearls, and then the agony fades. We pray nightly that this evil man repents and visits the surgeons. That is the only way to reverse the family curse.
Sincerely,
Lo Xin Si
Assistant to the Wen family patriarch
When an anxiety attack occurs, Sea of Tranquility (on the center of your breastbone) is the single best point to use for relief. Find the indentation in the breastbone, four finger-widths up from its base, to hold with your fingertips.
Acupressure for Emotional Healing
Michael Gach, Ph.D., and Beth Henning, Dipl, ABT
Chapter 9
Ken Jin's power flooded Charlotte's belly. Heat and strength and something incredibly wonderful filled her, mixing with her essence and becoming exponentially more fabulous. She wanted to ask what he'd done, wanted to pause just for a moment to orient herself, to see and feel and categorize, but there was no stopping the sensations. And she had no breath to ask.
So she gave up. She released her consciousness to the experience and allowed herself to fly.
Was she really flying? It was more like floating, but terribly fast. And she was warm—beautifully warm, as if she were swimming in the most perfect water in the most perfect place. But it wasn't water; it was air, because she could breathe. She saw lights as well: thousands of different balls of shimmering color dancing in the perfect dark air that felt sensuously like water.
There was sound too. She couldn't hear it, but she felt it. Music slid through the waterlike air right into her soul. She was floating in sound, immersed in beauty, and filled with such love that she began to giggle—which bizarrely made her soar even higher, right up to the colored lights.
So close! And so beautiful! If she reached out her hand she could touch...
William? One of the lights was her brother?
He was dressed all in white. No, he was the one who shone. And he was so bright that his raiment appeared white, but in truth, he was glowing with all colors. And he was smiling. He reached out a hand for her, and she grasped it without thought.
This was her brother! This was the man he would become: handsome, strong, with every piece of his attire in place—no stains, no rips, no untied laces. Better still, he looked at her with such intelligence. He understood her. More than that, he understood everything about everythin
g.
"You're an angel!" She had meant that he looked like an angel, but as the words shimmered through the air between them, she realized it was the literal truth. Her brother was an angel.
But how was that possible? Even as she phrased the thought, she understood the answer. She was in Heaven, brought here to speak with her brother, the angel. She frowned, trying to sort through her thoughts. She was in Heaven with William. But if William was here in Heaven, if her brother was an angel, then...
"Oh God, you're dead!"
Panic formed, a dark cold knot in her chest. As it formed, it drew all the rest of her into it. Heart, lungs, ribs, skin—all of her chilled and tightened. Worst of all, the bits of her became heavy. She became heavy. She began to sink.
"William!" she cried, stretching out to him. He extended his hand as well. First one arm, then the other, he tried to hold her to him. She heard her name tremble in the air. William's mouth was open, as if he were trying to talk to her, but she couldn't hear. The icy hole in the center of her chest had expanded to include her ears. All she heard was a dull rumble.
But she still felt him. His left hand managed to connect with hers. He couldn't hold on, but she touched him nonetheless. Strength, gentleness, and a love that was all William passed into her from her brother's spirit—her dead brother's spirit. She knew he had something to say to her, something she needed desperately to hear, but there was no time. She was sinking like an iron weight.
She fought, stretching, she screamed and ran, but that only made things worse. She seemed to fall faster, grow colder, and all that she was became ugly and heavy. All that surrounded her became even worse.
She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be back with her brother. She had to know: Was he dead?
She landed. She hit bottom in the darkest place, the coldest location, in the most horrid of ways: sprawled on a floor, her flesh so heavy that she couldn't lift a finger.
She opened her eyes. Even before she pried her lids open, she knew where she was: in the gardener's shed with Ken Jin. She could feel the lumpy pillows and the hard floor beneath her. She smelled his strange incense and felt the scratch of a blanket over her body, a blanket that did nothing to alleviate the chill.
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