White Tigress

by Jade Lee

  "Please tell me, Ru Shan. I want to understand."

  He didn't answer at first, but she felt his fist begin to relax. Not in the way of a man at last finding peace, but as an act of will. His hand opened in jerks, and then he flattened it against her hip, a hot, wide presence that was hard to ignore. Then Ru Shan spoke, his voice filled with a forced casualness that did not fool either of them.

  "I suppose I am not worthy of immortality," he said.

  "Don't be silly," she snapped. "Everyone is worthy of immortality, including you. Especially you." She pulled tighter to his side out of loyalty, but even as she moved she wondered if the Chinese gods worked that way. Just because her Christian God taught that all souls were worthy of salvation didn't meant that the Chinese ones did too. But she didn't voice her worry aloud. Instead, she tried to focus on Ru Shan, on saying what he most needed to hear. Assuming she could figure that out.

  "Tell me what happened," she pressed again. "My yin was flowing." She couldn't help but heat at the memory of how very much her yin had flowed. "I thought I stirred your yang." His dragon had been thick and hard in her hand, his yang a blazing flame of leashed power. She had felt it—not just with her body, but in her mind and soul.

  "Yes," he finally said. "All the ingredients were there."

  "So?"

  He sighed. "I felt the alchemical process beginning. I felt your yin and my yang combine. I was climbing the stairs to Heaven. I know I was." His voice was tight, but no more so than his body that was growing rigid against her. It was obvious, even now, that he still strained toward Heaven. But what had gone wrong?

  His eyes clouded, and she knew he fought tears. "I was almost there," he rasped. "And then..." He was struggling, trying to find the words. Or perhaps an answer. "I fell off."

  "Fell off?"

  "My focus. My intent. I saw images. Memories. And then..." He waved his hand in disgust, gesturing toward the floor beside the bed.

  She raised up higher, seeing their blanket crumpled and tossed to the floor. She looked closer and at last understood what he meant. He had released his yang seed. She had been so caught up in her own ecstasy that she hadn't even noticed. And while she floated in her joy, he had quietly cleaned up his disgrace and tossed it aside.

  She bit her lip, wondering what she could say. Then, before she could frame a thought, he shifted, turning toward her as he asked his question. "What did you feel?"

  She blushed red hot and was rewarded by his grin.

  "So you experienced joy?"

  "And much more," she whispered.

  He had been correct when he said that he would require much of her tonight. He had kept her yin flowing for hours and hours. Never would she have thought such a thing possible. But he had done it. And her mind had fought and struggled to contain the experience. Wave after wave of turbulent yin had wracked her body. With pleasure yes, but such pleasure as could not be held by the mortal mind.

  In the end she'd had to release herself completely to the experience, giving up total control of her mind, her ego, her individuality or risk going mad.

  That was when the experience had changed. She'd become almost separate from her body, which continued to pulse and contract. She'd felt... not launched. Never anything so explosive. Lifted. She'd been lifted into a sea of beauty, merging seamlessly into that amazing wonder.

  "You went to the first portal." Ru Shan's words startled her, not with their meaning but his total amazement.

  She looked at him, feeling confused and a bit guilty. She could not have accomplished so quickly what he had worked years for.

  He shook his head, still stunned. "I can see it in your face. You are glowing with peace such as I have rarely seen." He nodded, apparently sure of what she barely understood. "You made it to the first portal." Then he fell back. "And I have fallen in disgrace beneath your feet."

  "No!" she exclaimed, leaning forward in her earnestness. "I do not know where I went..."

  Behind her back, she felt his hand begin a gentle caress. "Do not be ashamed, Lydia. You are very gifted in this. I knew this from the first moment I saw you. Indeed, it is why I consented to..."

  "To buy me."

  He sighed, guilt bringing a ruddy color to his cheeks. "Yes. Because you were made for this kind of practice." He looked back into her eyes. "I am very pleased, my wife." Then he shrugged. "And very jealous."

  "But you have gone to the first portal before, haven't you?" She prayed it was true.

  "Yes," he answered. "Many times. But..."

  "But you want to go beyond," she finished for him.

  He released a bitter laugh. "Right now, I would be happy with such a thing. I cannot even make it there now, much less push further."

  She sighed, slipping lower as she rested on his shoulder. Then she closed her eyes, silently praying to any Heavenly spirit who understood to give her the words to help her lost husband.

  "Please tell me about the memories, the images you see." She didn't even realize she'd spoken until the sounds came to her ears. Then, once she'd heard her request, she doubted that Ru Shan would answer. She had pressed him so many times before.

  But, to her surprise, he began to speak, his words slow and thick, as if each carried a great weight beyond their surface meaning. "I see blood, Lydia. And my parents. First my mother, then my father. I see them as they were many years ago, then as they are now. I see..." He paused as he swallowed. "I see death, Lydia. And such an explosion of hatred and anger that it boils past my restraints. I cannot contain it."

  "And so you cannot contain your seed either, much less the power to send you to Heaven."

  He nodded, but not just with his head. The movement seemed to curl in on itself. His chin dipped lower and even the arm behind her back pulled her into him. His other arm came around her, and suddenly she was being enfolded in his pain. A misery that had her crying the tears he would not.

  She held him as tightly as she could. She allowed him to squeeze the breath from her lungs, and still she made no protest. Instead, she gave him all her strength and breath and power, wishing with all her heart that it was enough.

  And eventually, it was. Or perhaps eventually he learned to be content with his pain, for he slowly released her, rolling onto his back with a silent whisper of sound. Not a sigh. More of a sob, except that no tears wet his face and no anguish showed beneath the placid mask he wore.

  "Don't hide from me, Ru Shan," she whispered. "I can't bear it."

  He glanced at her, surprise widening his dark, almond eyes. Finally he spoke. "I am unaccustomed to sharing such things with anyone."

  "Even with Shi Po?"

  He nodded. "Especially with Shi Po. As much as she was a great teacher, her first goal is always her own immortality." He shrugged. "I cannot fault her for that. We all wish to be great."

  "You are great," she snapped. "And I certainly do fault any teacher who thinks of herself first and her pupils second."

  Ru Shan smiled, his features softening for the first time since she awoke. "You are fiercely loyal, my wife." Then he dropped a kiss on her lips. "That pleases me greatly."

  "Good," she answered, returning his kiss. But she did not let their play deepen. Instead, she pulled back, unwilling to let their conversation shift. "You said you saw your mother as she is now. But..."

  "She is dead, yes. I see her as she was just before she died. And I see her again as we buried her."

  "Oh, how awful!"

  He merely nodded, his mouth pulled tightly shut.

  "How... how did she die?"

  His jaw worked. She could see the muscles flex, but he did not speak.

  "Was she killed?"

  He closed his eyes. "She fell down. Her neck broke."

  Lydia didn't answer at first. She had heard those words before. Her father was a doctor, after all. He had used those words too many times to cover what she knew was the truth. She'd probably been beaten to death, likely by her own husband. "It would appear that there is ugliness in Ch
ina as well as in London."

  Lydia didn't know what triggered it, didn't understand what she had said, but at her words, the dam finally broke. Ru Shan pulled her tight to him as he began to sob. They were not soft sobs as she was accustomed to, the gentle misery of wives and mothers. This was a man's grief, and it tore at them both. It ripped from his chest with heaving gasps and clawed at his throat as it passed. His cries were guttural and frightening, but she knew better than to stop them. The sound, the pain, the aching horror of it all had to be released.

  So she held on to him, cradling him as best she could while he sobbed and fought with his pain. It won, of course. He had been holding it inside too long, allowing it to grow into this huge thing that wracked them both as it escaped. Finally it was gone, and Ru Shan slept in her arms.

  From the letters of Mei Lan Cheng

  1 January, 1895

  Dearest Li Hua—

  My friend, I cannot tell you what I have done. It was wrong. Evil. I know it, and yet... Li Hua, the barbarians are beautiful. Handsome and strong and beautiful. I cannot say how I know, and yet I do. Perhaps I am like my mother-in-law, trapped in another drug like their opium. I do not know. I do not care.

  Oh, Li Hua, I am happy. I know it is wrong. I am wrong. Evil. Wrong. Terrible.

  I write those words to chastise myself. But I am still smiling. I am still so filled with joy, I cannot speak of it.

  Pray to Heaven that Sheng Fu never finds out. But perhaps the beating would be worth it. Yes, I am sure I would brave a thousand beatings for one more day—one night!—like this.

  I cannot say more. But I had to tell someone! Please, dear friend, keep my secret.

  —Mei Lan

  Knowing the truth is not difficult; it's knowing how to react appropriately thereafter which is really difficult.

  —Han Zei Zi

  ~

  Chapter 15

  Ru Shan woke first, but not by much. The moment he stirred, Lydia opened her eyes. Her mind did not engage though, and she frowned in confusion. Why was Ru Shan...? She remembered. Her escape, Max's betrayal, and finally, her wedding and wedding night.

  A smile curled through her entire soul as she pressed a slow, languid kiss to her husband's lips. He returned it, of course, but there was a reserve in his movements, a tension in his body that had nothing to do with her embrace. She pulled back, a question on her face, but he did not even let her ask.

  "I must go now. I must help my family prepare for your arrival." He swallowed as he gently shifted her off him. "Fu De will be here soon with cosmetics and a palanquin. Truly, there is little ritual to the event beyond that, but I must prepare my family."

  She nodded, absorbing the information. Yet something

  didn't add up. Ru Shan seemed too nervous for a simple feast, and so she pulled herself to her knees, wrapping the blanket around her body. Then she watched warily as her husband donned clothing and shoes. He even combed out his long queue and rebraided it with deft fingers. All the while, her certainty grew: her husband was troubled to the point of twitchiness.

  "What's the matter, Ru Shan?" she finally asked. "What aren't you telling me?"

  He turned, an obvious denial on his lips. But then he stopped and sighed, his hands dropping to his lap. He shrugged. "You are too clever, my wife. It will be very hard for me to keep any secrets from you."

  She raised a single eyebrow, doing her best to look insulted. "Is it a Chinese custom to keep secrets from wives?"

  He nodded, obviously surprised. "Of course it is, Lydia. Chinese women are not educated in much beyond beauty and art. They have little knowledge of the world and little interest in gaining it."

  "So you men believe. So men have thought for eons. But we women are not so stupid as you imagine."

  He sighed. "Yes, I am learning that." Before she could do more than smile, he was abruptly before her, dropping to his knees in earnestness. "But this I swear to you, Lydia. I shall not keep secrets from you. Whatever you wish to know, I will answer. You have only to ask." He raised her hands to his lips, his expression as ardent as she could ever have wished. "You are my heart, Lydia. I shall not release you."

  She stared at his bowed head and felt his lips pressed against the backs of her hands. He quickly flipped her hands over to drop kisses onto her palm. She meant to ask more of him, to find out exactly what was going on behind his impassive expression. But his lips tickled, and his tongue sent shivers through her body. When he began sucking on her fingers, she had to pull away, giggling.

  "Ru Shan, you make my head spin."

  He gave her a smug smile, which made her laugh even harder.

  "Very well," she said, deciding to guess his thoughts. "Your family will not be happy with an English wife." She shrugged. "I don't suppose my family will be thrilled with you either. They were absolutely set on Max, you know."

  "And what about you, Lydia? Are you happy with your choice?" His tone was so sober, so serious that her gaze sharpened in surprise. Surely he understood how she felt? Surely he knew...

  Apparently he did not, because she saw doubt in his eyes, worry in the lines that creased his forehead. She stood, moved before him, and as she did, she let the blanket slip from her shoulders so that she stood before him completely naked in body and soul. She made no attempt at seduction. In fact, it was a completely asexual gesture. It was a simple presentation of herself for whatever he willed.

  "I am your wife, Ru Shan Chang. And I am greatly content in my choice."

  He stepped forward, mesmerized, and she saw that his jade dragon had come alive. His hands lifted slowly, reverently, before he smoothed his palms across, around, and beneath her breasts. She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his hands on her body. She heard him smell her skin as he pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, then to her neck and shoulder.

  "You cannot know how precious you are to me, Lydia. You are a pearl of great price, and I am a man most blessed."

  He was speaking to her shoulder, so she reached out, needing to kiss his lips, to feel his mouth merge with hers.

  There was a knock at the door.

  They groaned in unison, and then Ru Shan leaned forward, quickly grabbing the blanket and wrapping it gently around her. Then he turned, speaking in rapid Chinese too fast for Lydia to understand. She gathered he was giving instructions to Fu De, because no more knocking sounded. In the meantime, he began smoothing out his clothing, preparing to leave.

  When he turned to her, his words were formal and he spoke in slow Shanghainese. "We will rest our heads on the same pillow and tune our zithers clear and pure. Our music is always harmonious."

  She smiled at him, flushed with love and joy and an overwhelming peace at his words. She wanted to respond in kind, but her Chinese was not that fluent. Before she even began, he was already bowing out, closing the door behind him. A moment later, she heard the front door open and close, and she knew he was gone.

  Fu De appeared, knocking on her door, politely offering her clothing for the morning event. Paints for her face. Flowers for her hair. All the details of beauty that had to be relearned in the Chinese style.

  Thankfully, Fu De seemed well versed. She had little time for thoughts beyond not wanting to appear like an unkempt idiot before her new in-laws. Well, that and the memory of Ru Shan's face as she'd stood naked before him. That memory alone could last her through any number of trials.

  Or so she prayed.

  * * *

  She felt starched and primped and ridiculous by the time she was done, in her high wooden shoes and strange Chinese dress. The decorative ivory sticks lifted her hair high, but her veil kept tickling her nose and making her sneeze, which naturally dispersed the extensive amount of white paint on her face. Silly that—painting her already white face white. But Fu De assured her it was traditional, and so she did as he said.

  Now she sat in a covered litter carried by four big Chinese men, on her way to meet her new in-laws. She kept thinking she ought to feel like a
princess. Instead, she felt like a total fool. What had she been thinking? Marrying into a culture she truly knew next to nothing about. And why had Fu De said her feet were too large? He had bragged that it was impossible to buy special bride shoes for a woman with feet her size, but that he had somehow managed.

  And what was wrong with her feet? The same thing that was apparently wrong with all of her. According to Fu De, she was too big. Bridal attire could not easily be found in her size. Her feet were huge, her body too tall, her face too large, her waist too thick, and her breasts too plump. Apparently, she was perfectly acceptable as a pet, but not as a wife.

  She knew it was simply her nerves, but instead of being delighted with her new Chinese finery, Lydia found herself hating everything about it, her body, and her new family. Before she'd met any of them.

  "Oh, for Heaven's sake," she snapped at herself. "Quit being such a ninny." Except she was a ninny. A newly married ninny whose palanquin had just stopped somewhere outside of the Shanghai foreign territories.

  Fu De's head appeared as he lifted the bright fabric away. Since she had no one to present her to the family, he had been given the honors. Indeed, since Ru Shan didn't want his family to know that he had purchased her at a brothel, Fu De was apparently going to claim her as a daughter of a friend of a distant relative, or some such thing. Lydia had already forgotten the story.

  Whatever the case, it meant that Fu De handed her a ball of red ribbon even as the litter was set on the ground and she stepped out. She teetered on her high wooden shoes. He steered her through a gateway in a high wooden fence without gaps. Beside the archway fluttered red paper with black ink characters, but she had no time to read them, especially as the wind and her veil obscured much of what could be seen.

  "Watch your footing," Fu De whispered, but his words were lost as she struggled to both stand and hold a fan and his large ball of red ribbon. Especially as he was pulling it away from her by one end. She held the other end, watching as he stepped backwards, allowing the long, long piece of corded fabric to dip and sway between them, revealing the elaborate coil that decorated the center. It was a beautiful piece, and she was momentarily distracted by it. But then she looked up at Fu De, only to see that someone else held the end of her ribbon.