White Tigress (19 page)

He smiled, remembering that he had asked the exact same questions so many years ago. "Truly," he answered. "But not always. Our bodies do need sustenance, so we return here. But a true Immortal can visit the Heavenly Realm often."

She glanced down, looking at his chest, his still hungry dragon, at his entire naked body. "Are you close?"

He sighed. "I was. I have entered the Chamber of Swinging Lanterns three times now. But I have not progressed further. And I have not even gotten that far for the last two years."

"But you want to try again. Because you have so much yang?"

"Yes. And because you have given me so much yin." He straightened. "Do you wish to help me?" He wasn't sure why he asked. She was his slave. He could order her to assist him. But he had no intention of angering the woman holding his genitals. And besides, Li Dee had a good heart. She seemed genuinely interested in helping him.

True to his expectations, Li Dee straightened her shoulders. "What should I do?"

He smiled in appreciation, then began his instructions. "Continue to stroke the yang fire but do not seek my advice or help. It will disrupt my focus. I will appear as if in a trance and can stay that way for many hours." He felt his lips curve into a smile. "The creation of an Immortal takes much time."

She nodded and gently reached out for his jade dragon. "I will be gentle."

"I know you will." And then, in a supreme act of trust, he closed his eyes and began the process of redirecting his yang.

As before, she learned quickly. With little more than an occasional murmur from him, she understood how much pressure was required, how fast a stroke, how firm a grip. Soon, he was able to enjoy the sensation of his yang building, the exquisite feel of a woman's tongue on his dragon, the warmth of being surrounded by Li Dee's yin.

She was an extraordinary woman, he thought, even as his mind began to stir his yang into the eternal circle of creation. Both his major river of yang and the minor river of yin began to flow, and all was kept in wondrous agitation by Li Dee.

She had a beautiful laugh. Low and throaty, and so different from the Chinese women he knew. They had high-pitched giggles, like very young girls. Even his mother had tittered rather than laughed, and he was startled to realize that he preferred Li Dee's more open sound.

She didn't laugh in his presence. No, she made soft low moans of enjoyment when he suckled her yin, but she had never actually laughed. But he had heard her. Nearly a week ago with Fu De. She and the servant had been studying each other's languages, practicing the written words with sponge brushes. Ru Shan had come to the apartment early and ended up standing out in the hallway, wondering at the joyful sound from within. Just hearing that sound—so happy and carefree—had churned the yang within him into hot lava.

Her strokes on his dragon were getting longer now. Full and practiced. But it was when she used her tongue that his yang surged. She didn't do it often, still nervous. But every tentative touch had his body soaring with power.

It was during one of those bursts that he at last understood his anger at Fu De that day so long ago. It did not really bother him that the boy had been learning English. His fury was because Li Dee had shared such happiness with a servant rather than with him.

The yang fire was burning hotter now. He could hear his breath becoming more ragged, less controlled. But he redoubled his focus, visualizing his breath as a large mixing spoon, stirring his yang with Li Dee's yin, bringing the two together to create a great new creature—an Immortal.

And as the image stirred his dual rivers, it also brought to mind the memory of his mother standing in her courtyard stirring the dye she sometimes used to color the cotton they sold. It was a great, laborious task, and though she had helpers, she rarely trusted them. Servant girls were small and frightened of the hot cauldron—with good reason. The dye was heated to a boil and the cloth was heavy and bulky, especially when wet. Many people had suffered terrible burns from similar tasks. Her servants did all they could to be incompetent at the dangerous task so they would be excused from assisting.

As a boy, Ru Shan had helped her, but as an adult he was often too busy selling their wares to assist in their construction. So it had been with considerable surprise one afternoon when he had returned home to hear a man not his father in his mother's courtyard.

Ru Shan was not supposed to look. He knew to respect a woman's private garden. But just then his mother released a peal of laughter, quickly stifled, but true laughter nonetheless. It had been a long time since he had heard such a thing. Not since he was a child performing antics for her amusement. And so, without thought, he walked to the wall and peered over.

He recognized the man with his mother. A sea captain from England with a bushy beard and an infectious laugh. The man wished to buy bales of cotton, but they had not been dyed yet. Obviously, he had come to help with the work.

Still, Ru Shan had been stunned. True, Mei Lan his mother knew the ship captain from before. She was often called to help as a translator. She had learned English from a missionary and it had been a great boon to the Cheng family business. The English liked to converse in their own language, even if that meant speaking through a woman. And so the two obviously knew each other, but that did not mean the captain should come to their home. Should burden his delicate mother with his white smells and his thick hands.

Ru Shan had been on the verge of bodily throwing the man from his home until his mother laughed again. At a silly antic of the captain's. Again the sound had been quickly stifled against his mother's tiny hand, but Ru Shan had heard it nonetheless. And so he had backed away.

What son would take joy from his mother? The woman worked tirelessly for the benefit of the Cheng family. If the captain eased the burden of the arduous dyeing task, he would not interfere.

But he had never forgotten the moment either.

His body was tightening now, readying for release. Similarly, his mind was ready as well, the yin and yang mixing freely. He was prepared to step into a Heavenly Courtyard, prepared to see the images the Immortals chose to reveal to him.

Except, he could not seem to remain focused. Li Dee had slicked his dragon's mouth with her tongue. She had even ventured to put her entire mouth around him, sucking in the same manner in which he had done to her. Great Heaven, she learned quickly. His legs were shaking, and his breath rasped in and out of his throat. Surely he would reach immortality today.

And yet, his mind would not settle enough to allow the transformation. Memories, images, began flashing through his mind. He heard once again Li Dee's laugh. Then it was not Li Dee but his mother who giggled. He saw the white captain as the man danced around carrying dripping red cotton that splashed his face. But it was not dye. It was blood.

He saw himself as a boy, stirring the dye pot, the heat beating at his face, his arms aching with the strain. His blood pounded in his ears as the dye churned and boiled, splashing red over his arms, his face. The taste was rank, the pain real.

His mother screamed.

The stir stick was heavy in his hand as he fell to his knees.

The captain was dead.

A bellow roared up from his throat, erupting like a volcano of sound. His body spasmed as his control shredded like paper. He tore himself away from Li Dee and fell to his knees. His body convulsed, over and over, as his seed and the qi energy that went with it spilled onto the floor. Over and over it spewed from him, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

In the distance, he heard Li Dee cry out, shocked and afraid. Her words came in anxious English that his mind had no way to translate.

"Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"

He didn't know what she said or what she intended, but he reached for her hand, clutching it to his chest as his ragged breathing steadied. Her fingers were small but powerful, and he took comfort from the strength in her delicate bones.

And eventually, his sanity returned.

She was kneeling beside him, one hand tucked against his chest, the other supporting his back. And she was saying something.

"Do you need a doctor?"

He shook his head, a sigh releasing the last of his strength into the air. "I was almost there, Li Dee. I was almost an Immortal. It felt so close."

"What happened?" Her breath was a warm balm across his shoulder.

"Memories. Distractions." He looked down at his spent energy that dirtied the floor. "And now I have to begin it all again." He pushed slowly up to his knees.

"You want to start again now?" she whispered, clearly doubtful.

So was he. "I cannot try that again just now," he answered. It took great effort to climb onto the bed, bringing her with him, but he would not release her. He liked the feel of her hand in his too much. "We believe that every time a man expends his qi like that, he shortens his life by as much as a year." He settled onto his side, gently tucking her against him.

"You are staying here?" She moved easily, but her voice was high and anxious.

"Fu De cannot serve you tonight," he said firmly. "I will tend to you." Then he pushed her forward slightly so he could drape his leg around hers. With his head tucked into the sweet perfume of her hair, he closed his eyes knowing they would sleep easily in the Cleaving Cicadas position.

But rest did not come to him. Despite his exhaustion, his mind would not let him sleep. All too soon, he found himself speaking to Li Dee what he knew she could not possibly understand. His story came from nowhere, having no relevance to their situation. And yet, he found he wanted to tell her, wanted her to know how his journey had begun.

"I first learned of the dragon and tigress practice when I was a young man, already growing angry in my heart. My cousin came to stay with us from Peking. He had taken the Imperial examination a few years earlier, but had not done well. He was given a low government position and everyone called him a failure, even his wife."

He smiled to himself, remembering his cousin's wide face. "Zhao Gao was also a water person like you, Li Dee. But his was mixed with earth, which hindered and stopped his flow. Everything he did seemed to be hard for him, and his life was filled with obstacles. Even his body was awkward, with wide-spaced eyes and a mouth full of gaps."

He sighed, pulling her body tighter against him, his yang naturally seeking to be linked to her yin. But even with her tucked so intimately against him, he could not quiet his thoughts or still his mouth.

"I did not want him to visit us. I was very afraid of his fortune—his life path. No greater shame can befall a Chinese man than to spend years in study, a fortune on tutors, the enormous expense of traveling for the exam, only to perform badly. I did not want to be associated with such a man because I was very afraid of that future myself." He sighed at his own stupidity. "Of course, I didn't take the exam. My father had already decided that I would spend my life with him in the store."

"Is that why you were angry?" Li Dee asked. "Because you were not going to take the exam?"

He shook his head, rubbing his chin across her shoulder as he answered. "I was angry because I had to study. Locked in a tiny room with an old man to learn about men long since dead. I found it stupid and difficult, but I wanted to make my mother proud. She was the one who wished me to become a great scholar."

"Caught between a mother and a father. It must have been difficult."

"Everything about the Imperial exam is difficult. Truthfully, I was secretly overjoyed when my father liberated me to work in the store. My mother was the only one who grieved." He shifted slightly, raising up on one arm. "But I did not know that then, and I greatly feared my cousin's fortune would somehow contaminate me."

He leaned forward, letting his cheek feel the smoothness of Li Dee's shoulder. Except, of course, she was still clothed, and he frowned at the stiff peasant fabric. "Remove your shirt," he ordered. "I will perform your breast exercises from this position tonight."

She did as he bade, sitting up to remove her coolie tunic. He was pleased to see that there was no hesitation in her movements, only a slight confusion as he shifted her to the Goat Hugging-Tree pose. Though not the full position, it was still one of his favorites. It allowed him to remain seated, his back relaxed against the wall while still able to perform his tasks. At his direction, she settled between his legs, her back toward his chest.

At first she remained rigidly upright, but as he reached around her to begin stroking her breasts, she gradually settled back, lying against him, her naked chest open to his view.

"It pleases me that you are comfortable like this." He spoke without thought, not even realizing the truth of his statement until he had said the words aloud. "I have never wished to harm you," he added.

"I know," she answered. He heard resignation and un-happiness in her tone.

He sighed. "I know you wish to be free, Li Dee, but surely you must see that I cannot release you yet. I need your yin. And even more than that, I need to understand."

She turned, looking at him over her shoulder. "Understand what?"

"How I have lost the middle path."

"But I can't help you—"