Tempted Tigress (37 page)

There was nothing for Anna to say, no way to ease Zhi-Gang's pain. His life had begun when his sister's had ended. Did that make what he'd done with his life wrong? No. But it didn't end the guilt. Nor did it ease little Xiao-Mei's suffering.

"I'm so sorry," Anna whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. "I am sorry for your sister, sorry your family faced such a choice, and sorry that you bear the burden of supporting a family based on such a horrible thing. It is terrible, Zhi-Gang, but it doesn't make you irredeemable."

He didn't speak for a long time. If he cried, she couldn't tell, his body was so still. He remained tight and contained in her embrace until finally his body softened. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as she gripped him.

"I just want to find her," he whispered. "If she is dead, I will take her bones to Peking. I will bury them beside my mother and put a jade carving of her name on the family altar though she is a woman."

Anna swallowed, tears blurring her vision. She had a good idea how revolted his entire family would be at such a thing. To revere a prostitute? To put a woman's name in carved jade on the altar? Such things were not done except by a man like Zhi-Gang. A man who lived by his own strict code of honor and forced others to admit to their crimes. A carved slab of jade was a small price to pay for what his parents had done. And if he shamed them before their peers, then so be it. They should be shamed.

"But what if she is alive?" Anna asked. "What will you do then?"

"I will buy her freedom no matter the cost. Then she will live in her rightful place in my father's home. He will have to come home every day and look into his daughter's face. He will have to live with the daily reminder of what he did."

Fair enough. Zhi-Gang obviously lived with it. "But what of her?"

"I will shower her in silks and jewels. She will be honored for her sacrifice, treated better than any hero of China. I will make her life as beautiful as possible. That will be my thanks for what she did for me."

Anna smiled and pressed her lips to his neck. His skin was warm where she touched, if dry as parchment. On it she wrote her respect, her awe, and her love of him. She did it in kisses, in whispered caresses, and swift, sharp nips designed to inflame his senses. She did all these things, and together they discovered another use for a closed carriage beyond carting opium and bartered girls.

And when he was pressed deep inside her, she whispered words into his ears. She did not say what was in her heart, she did not speak of the love she had crushed a few nights before; what she said was simple and elegant and made him pour his seed into her like a great river gushing forward all its power.

Three words, but she knew from experience how wonderful they were. "I forgive you," she said. And then she repeated it as often as he allowed her the breath and space to say it. "I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you."

They arrived at the Tigress compound. Anna adjusted her clothing while Zhi-Gang resettled his knives. Then they stepped out of the carriage and prepared themselves to meet—and likely kill—the woman who taught whores as her part in this unholy business.

* * *

Whatever Zhi-Gang expected when he stepped into the Tan Tigress compound, it was not a white ship captain named Jonas Storm. The name fit, for Jonas was a huge bear of a man with curling dark hair and turbulent gray eyes. But he was quiet and unassuming in his own way-—like a poised thundercloud—and he greeted Zhi-Gang and Anna with perfect Chinese and equally polished manners.

Zhi-Gang gave the false name of Lan, and then the white man showed them to a receiving room. Tea arrived moments later, and the captain cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"How may the Tan home assist you, sir?" he asked.

"We search for a woman named Little Pearl," Zhi-Gang replied.

Captain Storm nodded. "So I was given to understand. May I ask why?"

"I come on behalf of the governor of the province of Jiangsu. I mean her no harm," Zhi-Gang lied. "But I wish to speak with her about a girl she may know."

The man's eyes narrowed, but not with animosity. "What is the girl's name?"

"Please," Zhi-Gang countered. "This is a matter best discussed with Little Pearl."

"And not a white man?" the captain challenged. "And yet you come with a white woman." His gaze cut to Anna, and he switched to English. "Are you well, ma'am? Do you need any assistance?"

It took a moment for Zhi-Gang to process the English words. Though he was well-versed in the language, the Captain spoke with his own accent and in words likely designed to confuse one who was not a native speaker.

Anna, too, frowned a moment before she answered. "I am well," she said in stilted English. "My apology. It long time since I use English. We tried to speak in Mandarin at mission." She blushed and looked at her hands. "I should speak better. I will be going to England. I need learn English better."

Zhi-Gang turned, touching her hand so that she looked directly at him. "He wants to know if I am hurting you," he said in Chinese. "If you are afraid of me and need his protection."

Anna blushed prettily and shook her head. "Oh no," she gasped. "I am quite safe."

In truth, Zhi-Gang could not tell if she was playing the innocent for Captain Storm's benefit or if she truly was embarrassed. Either way, his heart burned even brighter for her. Either she was extraordinarily skilled at manipulating others to her benefit, or she truly didn't understand how a white man might think her in danger from a Chinese.

The captain stared at her hard, and she returned his scrutiny with equal measure, even going so far as to arch an eyebrow when his study became obvious. The moment stretched on and on until the man slowly relaxed.

"He is looking for his sister. Tau Xiao-Mei," Anna explained. "Really, we mean no harm."

The captain's eyes flickered a moment in recognition, then his gaze steadied. Zhi-Gang saw the movement and nearly leapt from his seat to demand an answer, but Anna gripped his arm to hold him steady and Zhi-Gang settled on a barely controlled question.

"What do you know of my sister?"

The captain pushed to his feet. "If you wait here," he said. "I will get Little Pearl. Perhaps she can answer your questions." He shot them a wry grimace. "But it might take a moment. She's touchy about when she leaves her steamed
bao."

Zhi-Gang nodded, though his belly was tightening with every moment that passed. He would find his sister. He would not let some cook or displaced white captain deter him. He would not—

"Try to relax," Anna said. Her hand covered his fist.

It was her touch more than her words that broke his fury. But then she continued speaking, and he found himself flowing into her words, the sharp bite of his mood smoothing out with her logic.

"We are here to gather information. She may or may not have it. And it's possible that Little Pearl has been
helping
the women she meets."

He slanted her a disbelieving look, but she squeezed his hands.

"It's possible. This place is not what it seems. What home in Chinese Shanghai is run by a white man? Give the woman a chance."

"She teaches whores, Anna." He shoved out of his seat to pace the room. "What does that mean? She shows them how to pickpocket their customers? How to cut opium and water down wine? Or maybe how to bilk secrets out of viceroys?"

Anna followed his movements with a steady gaze. "Would that matter?"

He spun, a sharp rebuke on his lips. But she raised her hand, stopping his words.

"What does it matter what she teaches, so long as it gives power to the powerless? Hope to the hopeless?" Anna stood, crossing to his side. "Do not condemn her until you understand."

"Wise words, white woman," came a voice from behind.

Both Zhi-Gang and Anna spun around to see a small woman with bound feet standing in the doorway. She wore a simple blue silk gown, rather commonplace in appearance but that hugged her young curves the way only a favorite garment could. Behind her stood the captain, one hand resting casually on the woman's shoulder, but his alert gaze showed him to be anything but relaxed.

Anna dipped her head in greeting. "Little Pearl, I assume?"

The woman didn't speak. Neither did Zhi-Gang. He stared at her, seeing in her face the exact image of his mother from years ago. From before they left Huai'an. From a time that never was, when his mother had been young and beautiful and unburdened by the sale of a daughter.

Little Pearl was his sister. She was Xiao-Mei.

Zhi-Gang stared at her, and she at him, while a lifetime of loss and hope thickened the air between them. In the end, it was Zhi-Gang who moved. It wasn't by conscious thought; his knees simply gave out. He dropped bit by bit, then furthered the movement by pressing his face to the dirty floor.

He could feel Anna's surprise as she tried to catch him. She thought he had fallen, but as he completed his kowtow, she relaxed her hands and stepped back. All the while, Zhi-Gang tried to speak, but his throat was frozen. No sound emerged though he tried. He tried with all his heart, but nothing came out.

In a moment, he would wonder how a girl sold into whoring could appear so beautiful nearly two decades later. In a while, he would have breath to ask the questions that crowded together on his numb tongue. But for now, all he could do was press his forehead to the dirt and pray she understood.

In the stunned silence, he finally heard her speak. Her voice was surprisingly mature given the youthful cast to her features. "Well, brother," she drawled. "This is a change. Me standing and you on your knees."

He looked up, his eyes moist, his mouth still frozen. In his mind's eye, he remembered every moment of when he lay crumpled against a table while he watched her dragged screaming from the house.

She stepped forward, her expression soft. "As you can see, I have learned how to walk on my tiny feet. I can fetch my own dolls, even manage a large household." She reached out and pulled a crease out of his ragged clothing. "All in all, I believe I have done better than you."

He blinked, confusion warring with guilt in his thoughts. And still no sound emerged from his mouth.

His sister rolled her eyes then folded her arms. The gesture was so reminiscent of his mother, Zhi-Gang nearly choked. "Oh, get up. It strains my back to talk leaning over like this."

How many times had his mother snapped at him in just that tone? Enough that he responded without thinking, lifting up to settle back on his heels, his jaw slack with shock. Beside him, Anna muffled a laugh. He even saw amusement flicker in the white captain's eyes. "How?" he finally managed.

"Aie-yah," his sister responded. "You haven't changed at all. No understanding of culture. Get up, brother. Drink your tea and eat a dumpling. They are excellent, you know," she said with clear pride. "And I will tell you everything."

From Anna Marie Thompson's journal

January 10, 1890

They sell girls. They trade young girls for opium. Samuel was smart to hide that from me. I would never have agreed—years ago—if I knew. I would have never begun running. Or maybe I would, but I won't run girls.

I told him I'd work for someone else. That I was the best runner he had, and that I could easily work for someone else.

He took out his knife to stab me, just like on my sixteenth birthday. But I saw it coming. Samuel's older now, and I was faster. I won't do runs with girls, I said. It's gold or jewelry or nothing. No girls.

Samuel agreed. He had to with his own knife at his throat. But he kept the bargain when I put the knife away, and he even gave me a gram for being so clever.

He suggested we use his needle. "The best time ever" But I already knew how to use a hypodermic, and I don't trust him like I used to. So I said no. Said I didn't celebrate with the customers anymore.

He smiled at me then. He's a twisted bastard, smiling like that at me. He was proud of who I was. Proud of what I've become. And I'm twisted too, because I liked it. It was like he was Father again.

Then he opened his book—the one where he writes the accounts. And by my name, he wrote something new. He doubled my pay.