White Tigress (32 page)

"That energy will launch me to Heaven, where I will commune with the Immortals. After such an event, I will return to Earth. A man cannot live with the Immortals. We can only visit."

She nodded, wondering where he was leading.

"After such a time, when I am an Immortal," he continued, "we may discuss children again, but not before."

"But don't you wish for an heir?" She didn't know why she was arguing, why she so wished to change his mind. She was only just now beginning to imagine Chinese society. She had a whole new role to learn as Ru Shan's wife. The last thing she needed was a child to complicate matters. And yet, the thought of not even trying to get pregnant left her with a deep, abiding sadness.

Ru Shan shook his head. "My heir is already taken care of." He paused, looking closely at her eyes. "Do you understand? I already have an heir."

She nodded, assuming he referred to a cousin or nephew who would inherit the shop upon his death. He was telling her she might not have a position as a dressmaker if he suffered an untimely death. "Well," she said with an attempt at a laugh, "your heir is a matter for the far-off future. We have many, many years to discuss children."

He smiled, though his expression was still wary. His touch was too, as he grasped her hand, bringing it once again to his lips. The kiss was quick and perfunctory. "I would enjoy watching our children grow, Lydia. But they will have a difficult place in China, and we must think very carefully before we do such a thing."

She nodded, her ebullient mood fading. Ru Shan was right. A half-white, half-Chinese child would face a hostile world. Neither race would embrace him. She sighed. "With luck, our shop will make enough money that our children will never suffer want."

He nodded, clearly agreeing. But that did not stop him from repeating himself. "So you understand, my Lydia? We will not try for children just now."

She nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his address. She had always wanted to be someone's "my Lydia," and now she was. In the best and most wonderful way—as a wife and a lover. What more perfect world could exist? Except, of course, for the lack of children. "We will face the issue together later. When we are sure we can make a place for a child."

And with that, they both had to be content. Indeed, she was grateful for his foresight. She would not want to harm her children unduly simply because she had not thought through conceiving them in the first place.

"Come," Ru Shan said, gesturing to the feast before them. "Let us fill our stomachs before we fill our hearts." He looked at her, a wealth of hunger and anticipation sparking in his gaze. She felt her own face heat in response, and in a strange moment of shyness, she ducked her head, looking down at her food rather than at the promise of secret delights that seemed to burn in every fiber of her husband's body.

She looked away, but she did not forget. And soon, the delights of the table faded in the anticipation of the night to come.

Either because he was a master in those arts or because he knew her so well, he drew out the meal, extending her anticipation until she was at a fever pitch. Ru Shan leaned back in his cushions, taking time with his food, picking up tiny morsels and single grains of rice with his chopsticks. Yet all the while, his eyes were on her, watching her every movement, seeing her every expression and God alone knew what else. Still, his attention warmed her from the tips of her toes all the way up through her blushing cheeks.

He began to ask her questions. He wanted to know everything about her. Even more than before, he encouraged her to talk about England, her family, and her childhood. She warmed to the topic of her father, dead now nearly three months. In truth, she confessed, he was an average doctor, but he'd had a great heart and large, gentle hands. As a child, she had brought him wounded dogs, hurt birds, and once even an angry ferret. He had been a loving father, and she missed him terribly.

Ru Shan did not comment when she spoke of him, except to encourage her to talk more. His eyes betrayed a great hunger. Eventually, she slowed in her reminiscences to look at him.

"Your father is not a gentle man, is he?"

Ru Shan shook his head. "My father is a man of goals. He creates challenges for me and expects them to be met."

"And if they are not?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Ru Shan shrugged. "The Chinese beat disobedient children, but not often. Parents have other ways of enforcing discipline."

She leaned forward, anxious to hear more. Eventually, he answered her unspoken question.

"Entire families live as one, Lydia. Parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins—all live in the same compound together. If a child disobeys, the anger of the entire family falls upon him. All, from the youngest child to the oldest great-grandparent, can discipline a child however they see fit. It is our culture's greatest strength."

"That the entire family holds together?"

He nodded, but his expression was sad. "It is also our greatest weakness. For the family can decide as a unit what a child must do." He sighed. "The weight of that responsibility is terrible."

Moved by the sadness in his voice, Lydia reached out and stroked her husband's cheek. His gaze immediately lifted to her face, but she was not looking at his eyes. Instead, she was watching his mouth, the way it pinched tighter, suppressing great pain.

"You find it hard, don't you? That you must make your family shop profitable. You would much rather study philosophy."

He shook his head, but slowly, as if feeling out his answer. "I enjoy selling things." He flashed a grin. "And I am good at it." Then he shrugged. "Well, perhaps not at actually selling items. In truth, my father was much better with customers. But I am the one who made sure we had the best supplies, the best things to sell. I made contacts and arranged deliveries. I made sure we were always well stocked, even in the worst of times..."

"Until now," she said when he did not. She remembered the empty shelves, the bleakness of his store. "What happened?"

He sighed, his shoulders drooping. His gaze slipped away and he toyed with his food. "This is not the time to talk of such things."

She frowned, feeling his stubbornness like a thickness in the air. "Do not put a wedge between us, Ru Shan. Not so early in our marriage." Again she reached out, lifting his chin. This time she put more force into her movement because he resisted. In the end, he gave in, lifting his gaze to hers. His eyes were stormy.

She leaned forward, putting weight behind her words. "This preys upon you, Ru Shan. If a wife cannot help her husband when he is dismayed, then what good is she?" She paused while he thought. Then she pressed further. "I need to know what has happened if you wish my help."

He gave in. She watched it happen. It was as if something gave way within him, the stone that locked his feelings inside abruptly cracked. His body even flinched. He closed his eyes. She didn't think about her next movement. She simply shifted on the cushions until he could rest his head in her lap. And while he lay there, her hand idly stroking his side, he began to explain.

"Shi Po allowed my secret to escape. She told certain people that I kept a white pet. To my people, that alone is enough to make me untrustworthy as a businessman."

Lydia frowned. "Having a..." She could not even say the words.

"What do the English think of a man who consorts with animals?" he asked, an apology in his tone.

Lydia flinched. Even as a protected daughter, she had heard whispers of such things. "We think him unnatural. Unclean, perhaps, is a better word."

"And would you do business with him?"

Lydia sighed. "Many doctors would not even treat such a man."

Ru Shan sighed. "So it is in China as well. Only in China..."

"White people are considered animals."

He nodded. His gaze lifted to hers. "We are wrong, Lydia. I didn't know how wrong until I met you."

Lydia nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. An ugly truth, but true nonetheless. She smiled, quietly telling him that she forgave him his mistake even as she redirected their thoughts.

"Tell me of Shi Po. She was your teacher in the one thing that you chose for yourself—these Taoist secrets—and she betrayed you in the one way that means the most to your family." Lydia paused. It hurt her to even say the next words. "This woman has used her position to destroy you."

Ru Shan didn't speak, but the tension in his body answered her.

"Was it an accident?" Lydia asked. "Did she mean to hurt you?"

Ru Shan's eyes slipped closed, but his body remained like stone. "Shi Po does nothing by accident." Then he breathed—with obvious thought and intention. Lydia felt his chest raise in stuttering inhalation, but then his exhalation flowed fully out in a great gust of frustration. "Her husband is my greatest competitor. They profit much by my loss."

Lydia shook her head. How could he have put himself in such a position? "Why did you choose to study with her?"

"She is the greatest tigress in Shanghai. Many travel from all over China to study with her." He shifted, pushing out of her lap and rising to look directly at her. "There are few who study these arts. Many consider them immoral. As I said to you before... if my father knew the full extent of my study, he would disown me."

She stared at Ru Shan, seeing his fixed gaze, the taut cast to his features and raised shoulders. She could tell he had just told her something significant, but she was not sure she understood.

He explained. "For a Chinese son to be disowned means he would be cast out—not only from the family but from all of Chinese society. And from life after death as well. A disowned son is worse than nothing in China. He is evil incarnate. It is more than shameful, it makes you unclean and..." His words faltered as he searched for some way to express the horror he described. "To be unfilial is the worst thing a man can ever do."

"Unfilial? Meaning to..."

"To disobey, to dishonor a parent." He took a deep breath, and Lydia could see that he was making a decision. She waited in silence, wondering what he would say next. But he didn't speak. Instead, he stood, abruptly pulling her to her feet. She went easily, studying his face for clues to his thoughts.

Then suddenly he was kissing her. His mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting harshly into her mouth, taking whatever it touched, as if he were branding her. She did not understand his actions, only the feelings that went with them. She felt his desperation and pain, his need to know she was his, completely and without reservation.

She opened her mouth and allowed herself to melt into him. Her body rested flush against his and her head fell back, giving him complete access to her body—and to her mind and spirit as well. He took greedily from her, first plundering her mouth, then feasting on the skin of her neck, even the swell of her breasts where she was still covered by her English-style gown.

Eventually he slowed, his frenzy diminishing. Slowly, he pulled himself away, tucking her close to his heart with arms that slowly tightened, not to hurt her but to keep her so close as to be one with him. Only then did he speak, his cheek pressed to the side of her head. His words flowed straight from him into her.

"My father learned of my interest from my cousin, Zhao Gao—the one who long ago I thought ought to be ashamed, but instead was filled with life."

She nodded, remembering the man he had called "a dou," meaning one of great potential who turned out worthless.

"My father is not a foolish man. He knew who Shi Po was, knew her to be the only teacher available to me and also the wife of Kui Yu. He forbade me to study, Lydia. He told me that following this course would destroy the shop, destroy our family."

"But you disobeyed him?"

He nodded, and she could feel his body tighten. "I wanted to study, Lydia. I wanted to know what Shi Po knows. To feel what Zhao Gao felt. To be—"

"To be happy." She sighed. Ru Shan had been happy in his studies. She had known it from the first moment they began to practice together. There was great concentration, yes, but also an inherent joy in what they did.

"The holy men of China have great honor. They are great scholars and moral men."

"You thought Shi Po was like them?"

He nodded. "I did not think she would betray me." He released a laugh then, a silent explosion of air that had no humor. "I still do not understand why. They have enough. More, even, than we do. Why would she do this?"

"Because she is greedy." Lydia spoke without thought. "Because she is not as holy as you believed."

Ru Shan remained silent, his body growing increasingly heavy as he held her. And though it took some time, she at last understood that he was holding himself back. There was more to the problem than he had let on.

"What aren't you telling me, Ru Shan? What more is there?"

He didn't answer at first, but eventually his arms slipped free and he moved backward. His focus was low at first, as he stared at the floor. Eventually his gaze moved up until it came to rest on her face. "I borrowed money, Lydia. To buy you. I borrowed it from Kui Yu, Shi Po's husband."

Lydia felt her throat tighten, but she somehow found the breath to speak. "How much do you owe? And how much time do you have to repay it?"