The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (82 page)

*   *   *

The Mandarin strode down the corridor. He was feeling in the best of spirits. He would have liked to stretch out his arms and chuckle aloud, but he saw Mother Liu and Ren Ren waiting at the end of the corridor. For their benefit he glared superciliously, preserving a dignity he did not feel.

‘She is ready and waiting, Da Ren,' Mother Liu cooed. ‘A pretty, pretty creature, to be sure. Oh, Da Ren, it is, of course, right that you should be the first to enjoy her exotic charms, yet I can't help but think, afterwards, what a grace she would be to our establishment. So interesting for our regular customers. If she could be properly trained. Chamberlain Jin and I have spoken many times…'

‘I am aware of your discussions with Chamberlain Jin,' said the Mandarin shortly.

‘Then could you only consider? After all, what is one foreigner more or less? And when you have finished with her…? I would pay a high price,' she said coaxingly.

‘Out of the money I have already given you?'

‘You know what a dangerous position we are in, agreeing to keep these foreigners. Ren Ren and me you can trust—with our lives—to keep silent. Loyalty for us is not a matter of money. But if anybody else were to hear of this…'

‘I will give you my answer tomorrow. In principle I agree. You charge a high price for your silence, woman.'

‘Oh, Da Ren, your generosity is a legend.'

‘No, it is your greed that is legendary, Mother Liu. Now, shall we stay chatting in this draughty corridor? Or may I enter? And by the way, if I hear the merest movement of that peephole of yours while I am inside then it'll be I who will inform Iron Man Wang that it is you who are harbouring foreigners upstairs. Two can play at blackmail, my dear Mother Liu.'

‘Oh, Da Ren, as if I would even dream of spying on you…'

Chuckling at her discomfort the Mandarin pushed open the door and went inside. The curtains on the bed were drawn. Standing on the carpet in a submissive attitude was Fan Yimei. He smiled with pleasure to see her. He was struck again by her beauty. She reminded him of Jinghua when he was a young man. He could even recognise in her downcast eyes the look of unstated disapproval that he had known so well in his old friend. ‘How is your rival, my dear?' he asked.

‘She is ready for you, Da Ren.' She made a delicate gesture at the curtained bed.

‘And are you pleased that I am taking her away from your lover? Do you think that Ma Na Si will want her in the same way after I have used her?'

‘I think Ma Na Si loves her, Da Ren, as she does him.' She looked him fully in the face. ‘It is not my place to be pleased or not but—I do not think my father would approve of what you are doing.'

‘Ha!' laughed the Mandarin. ‘You are like him. Too good for this world and yourself! But not afraid to say so, it seems. Well, well. It appears that my friend the
daifu
has allies even in the bedchamber.'

‘I do not understand you, Da Ren. I had not meant to be insolent. Please forgive me.'

He cupped her chin in his hand and looked at her kindly. ‘If you were not the daughter of my friend,' he said regretfully, ‘and if I were a younger man … Come,' he said, ‘away with you. Off you go. My assignation is with the fox lady, and what will happen between the two of us is a matter only for her and me, but Yimei…' She paused by the door. ‘I have never forgotten your father. Believe me, he would be proud of you today. Now go.'

She left.

The Mandarin sighed, and stretched. Through the thin pink curtains he could see red sheets moulded over the shape of a woman's body. He could make out a head on a pillow resting in a flame of auburn hair. He listened and could hear the whispering sound of her breath. He wondered what she would be feeling, knowing that he was there, waiting for the curtain to be pulled aside. Was she afraid? Was she excited? He felt the familiar stirrings in his loins.

He waited until the sensation subsided. He prided himself on his self-control. The pleasure of sex lay in the anticipation. The longer the delay, the greater the eventual reward. He began to hum. It was one of the songs of the Hunan Braves, one that Jinghua used to play, in very different surroundings. He had not thought of the tune for years. He stopped, sensing a movement in the sheets behind the curtains. Let her wait a little longer, he decided. He took up the air again.

Slowly he pulled off his boots and then his robe, hanging it carefully on the frame in the corner. Underneath he was wearing white cotton pyjamas. He thought of removing these, then thought better of it. He would take this very slowly.

Carefully he pulled back the curtains at the end of the bed. She was holding the sheets to her chin. The first thing he noticed was her pointed nose, so unlike the flatter Chinese noses. He wondered how foreigners kissed. Her face was covered in makeup. Fan Yimei must have painted her like that. She looked different from when he had seen her on past occasions, from his palanquin, at the railway ceremony, during the hunt in the hills. The paint gave her a sophistication he had not associated with her. She looked older, more experienced, not unattractive, but he had been expecting a young, frightened girl. She was watching him with her strange green eyes. Yes, there was anxiety there, but not exactly fear. Did he imagine it or was there pleading in her expression? Was this foreign girl like any other girl? Alone with a man, wanting to be approved? How brave she is, he thought. How did Ma Na Si persuade her? he wondered.

He closed the curtains behind him, moving to the side of the bed to sit by her. Her green eyes followed his movements. She flinched as he reached under the bedclothes but relaxed when he only pulled out her hand, pressing it with his. He examined the long fingers and the strange mottled freckles on her arm. Like smallpox scars, he thought. Ugly, but interesting. He smiled at her, looking directly into her eyes. They were not green, really. A sort of hazel colour flecked with grey. He was glad they were not blue eyes, such as some foreigners had—milky pale things that looked like the eyes of the blind. There was light and fire in these eyes, he thought, though for now they contemplated him nervously. Carefully, he reached his hand behind her head and ran his fingers through the thick, red hair—the fox fairy's hair that had attracted him. He had expected it to be tough and fibrous, and was surprised by its softness, the way the strands slid through his fingers like silk. He smiled at her again, and this time he was rewarded by a slow quiver of her lips as she tried to respond. Brave girl, he thought, brave girl. Worthy of Ma Na Si.

Gently he laid her arm back on the sheet. Her eyes widened with alarm as he stood over her. He carefully pulled away the sheets uncovering her all the way down to her feet. He untied the sash of her gown and lifted it over her shoulders, running the sleeves down her arms, so she lay naked to his gaze. She was a thin thing. He could make out all her ribs and there were blue veins visible on her chest. He was glad that the brown freckles and smears were restricted to her arms and legs and part of her shoulders. The rest of her skin was pale, white, wraithlike perhaps, but again, not unattractive. He admired the bluish hollows over her surprisingly round stomach and throat and thighs. She had quite full breasts too, larger than most Chinese girls. She was not as hairy as he had imagined; the fine filaments on her belly and thighs were like goose down, and the thick red bush that covered her groin … well, that was intriguing. He had wondered if the colour below would be the same as the flaming hues on her head, and now he knew. He felt the stirring again in his own loins. In fact, he realised, he was quite hard under his pyjamas. He wondered if she had noticed and what she thought. He looked at her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was partially open. He could see the tips of her teeth.

He sat down beside her. He ran his fingers through her hair, resting his hand behind her head. With his other hand he gently stroked her body, moving his palm over her shoulders, down her thin upper arm, over the swell of her breast. He held the small pink button of her nipple, rising out of its pale puckered areola, between his two fingers. He closed his mouth over it, kneading it with his lips and tongue, feeling it harden. As he pulled away he was struck by her odour. She had a sour, milky smell, different from the smell of women he was used to. Again, it was intriguing. Not unpleasant. Arousing, even—but how foreign she was. Her eyes were open now, watching him, lids half closed. He wondered if he was exciting her. There was a dreamy look in her eyes that might have been desire—but he could not read this woman as he could read one of his own kind. Was she enjoying this? He continued his exploration, moving his hand across her ribs, over her round, protuberant belly, down her thighs, then back again, smoothing his palm over the red, wiry hairs, feeling for the familiar mound, the cinnabar grotto. His fingertips touched soft flesh and, yes, there was moistness there. She was responding to him. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Would that pointed nose press into his cheek? How strange she was. If only she did not have such large, ugly feet, he thought, she might be considered beautiful.

Hesitantly Helen Frances lifted her own hand to touch the face of the man who was leaning over her. He felt a cold palm on his cheek. Her eyes, looking directly into his, stared with urgent enquiry. Her slightly frowning brow, the teeth in the half-open mouth, the quiver of the upper lip reminded him of an inquisitive little animal, a peering fox cub or a small beaver. For a moment he was nonplussed and sat rigidly on the bed, allowing the long, cool fingers to descend from his face to penetrate the folds of his pyjamas, tickling in turn his chest, his belly, moving downwards towards his own secret regions. The hand reached his waistband and could go no further. The solemn face below him looked questioningly at him, then stared in fascination as a hardness he could not control raised the cloth that covered his groin, and his growing excitement became visible to her. His own hand moved almost unconsciously to untie the silk cord. He wanted those cool fingers to go further, to touch his arousal, to enfold his jade flute … He slipped the knot, the cold fingers moved on, he felt them ruffle over his hairs … But no, with an effort of will he asserted his self-control. This was inappropriate. He stopped her there. The green eyes widened in surprise as he pulled out her hand. He held it pressed between his palms, and sighed, feeling after a moment his hardness subside. He smiled at her puzzlement.

‘No, my little fox lady,' he whispered. ‘I cannot allow it. For all I have said, I value my friendship with Ma Na Si. The debt between us is paid and you will tell him that I have not harmed you. I will not take his treasure although I see it is freely given. I in turn am in debt to him, and to you.'

She had not understood a word. He dredged his memory for the English words. ‘Sank—you,' he said clumsily, after much thought. ‘You—be-yoo-ti-fu'. No—berong—old—man.'

Slowly, understanding penetrated her face. Her features quivered, and crumpled, and her green eyes filled with tears. Her body began to tremble, and she shook with silent sobs. The Mandarin stood over her indulgently, gently pulling the sheets to cover her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, smelling again for the last time that strange, milky odour. Then he closed the curtains quietly behind him.

As he put on his official gown, he began to hum the song of the Hunan Braves.

*   *   *

And he was humming as he stepped out of the door into the gallery where Mother Liu and her son, joined by Major Lin, were waiting. Ma Na Si was also there, standing sheepishly a little distance away. Ignoring the brothel-keepers, the Mandarin strode towards him, but Ma Na Si would not meet his eyes.

The Mandarin laughed. ‘Abashed, my friend?' he said jovially. ‘That's not like you. Perhaps my little game has been worth it to see this humbler side of you at last.' He moved closer, putting an arm around his shoulder and speaking in a low tone so only the Englishman could hear. ‘Remember the saying, Ma Na Si,' he whispered. ‘“Intercourse between friends is like a glass of clear water handed between gentlemen.” Neither you nor I have anything to reproach ourselves for. Your fox woman is as you left her. Be assured of that. You will not hate me after you have spoken to her. Listen,' he said, pressing his mouth closer to Henry's ear, ‘we are all involved in a game now. My wager with the doctor was trivial, but it does no harm that Major Lin has seen you apparently humbled. It may go a little way to assuage the vengeance he feels towards you for stealing his concubine. We need him, you and I, for our plans. Continue to act the aggrieved lover, although it doesn't suit you, and there may be peace between you. But beware of him. He is your enemy. It is dangerous enough here as it is. So much so that I am thinking of bringing my plans forward so we can leave tonight. Make sure all of you are ready when we come for you … Now, for the benefit of the others, look angry. They must think that in this whispered exchange I have been gloating over my defilement of your beloved. Spit at me, if you like. It will suit the melodrama of the occasion.'

‘You bastard, you led me on,' said Henry.

‘Would you have been able to persuade her if I hadn't?' asked the Mandarin.

Henry bellowed and swung a wide punch at him, but the Mandarin easily caught the bunched fist in his hand, twisting Henry's arm viciously behind his back. Major Lin ran forward and made to grab him, but the Mandarin only laughed, letting him go. Henry's eyes glared with very real anger, but he controlled himself. He brushed past the sneering Major Lin and ran down the corridor to the bedroom from which the Mandarin had come.

The Mandarin smiled. ‘I think we can safely leave him to take stock of his spoiled goods,' he said. ‘Come, Major, we have work to do. Mother Liu, thank you for your hospitality. If you are ready, we will leave now.'

‘May I stay for a while longer, Da Ren?' Major Lin requested. ‘I have things to arrange with Fan Yimei.'