Chapter 6

 

Kui Yu watched fear slip into his wife's expression. Her joy was a thing of beauty, something to immortalize in poetry or opera. In happiness, Shi Po had a glow that expanded outward from her center and encompassed all.

He had only seen her happy four other times. Three occasions were on the births of their children, in that incredible moment after the baby emerges. The children themselves were angry, scrunched, wailing balls covered in fluids. But when they finally quieted and settled against Shi Po's breast to nurse away their fears, Kui Yu had seen Heaven. In that moment, he had looked into his wife's eyes and felt that threefold happiness wished to all new parents. Except Shi Po's joy at those times was not threefold. It was a hundredfold, a thousandfold. And it touched not only the child, but him as well. Her joy was so expansive, she encompassed the whole world in welcoming their new child.

Those three moments were etched upon his spirit as indelibly as the day he had lifted the veil from his new wife's face and known, without doubt, that he had wed Shi Po. He did not know if the joy he'd felt that day had been only his or hers too, but he remembered the same welling of life that could only be divine. Such had been his happiness to wed this woman.

And now was the fifth time, a moment begun in frustration which had led to a beauty that humbled him. He saw contentment and awe in her face and writhing body. He felt an overwhelming honor that his delicate woman could find such fulfillment from his large, work-roughened hands. And most of all, he felt his own worries scatter, his emptiness ease when her joy touched him.

But then it faded. Fear stole into her eyes. That too was quickly hidden, covered by the hardened facade she so often adopted.

"Why do you hide from me, Shi Po?" he asked. He spoke the words without thought, knowing it was a foolish question. One could not confront fear so abruptly. It only made terror grab hold, and brought a response of sharp, angry words and a quick withdrawal. He knew this, and yet he could not stop himself.

She straightened onto her elbows and pulled away from him. "I hide nothing!" she snapped. "I am laid open before you!"

He remained silent, feeling her defenses harden. What did men do to find softness in the world? How did a man create comfort in a spirit that was only sharp edges and glittering pain? For that was what Shi Po's fear made her: sharp and painful. No wonder she sought to escape this world into immortality. She longed for the safety of Heaven.

The thought came to him on a breeze that deposited its wisdom before blowing past. Most days he would have missed it, too busy with making his fortune. But he was quiet just then, and his gaze rested on the moon-washed form of his beautiful wife even as she scooted backward on the silk tapestry.

His wife needed to feel safe. The thought rocked him to the core. Despite her position as lead Tigress, despite all his fortune and their many things, she was nearly paralyzed by fear. And that fear brought out all that was terrible inside her. That was why she was so angry now. That was why she hated that he had given her pleasure without practice. Because she did not feel safe unless she controlled her experience. Unless she managed everything to the tiniest detail.

Kui Yu straightened, fighting his new understanding. He did not want to believe that all his work to make money meant nothing. That all this time, his goal had been the wrong one.

What did a man do to make his family safe?

"I am weary, Shi Po," he said. He did not want her to retreat completely from him, so he placed his hand on that part of her he could reach: her still-quivering thigh. And she obliged him by not pulling completely away.

He stroked his hand down, liking the touch of her skin, the smooth slide down her elegant leg and strong calf. Until he came to her foot bindings. They interrupted the flow of his hand and the length of her leg. Without even thinking, he began to unwind them.

"What are you doing?" she cried, clearly alarmed.

He stilled and frowned first at her then down at his hand. He hadn't fully realized what he was doing, but now that he had, he would not be denied. "It is my right as your husband to see your feet." His voice was cold. Why did he sound angry with her?

"Of course it is your right, Kui Yu," she soothed, "but surely you don't wish—"

"Surely I do," he snapped in frustration. He shut his mouth and tried to keep his venom inside. But his anger came out in his motions as he roughly unwound the cloth.

She squirmed, clearly unhappy.

"Does this hurt?" he asked. If it did, he would stop.

He saw something flash in her eyes, a deviousness that came from fear, but in the end, her gaze dropped to her lap.

"No," she said, her voice barely audible. "It doesn't hurt."

"Then why...?"

"Because they are not washed. Because they are not my best asset. Because no woman wishes to be exposed in all her ugliness."

He did not understand. "Your feet are beautiful." Then to emphasize the statement, he pulled away the last wrap around her left foot. He lifted it, the scent unpleasant, the golden lotus shape as beautiful as it was grotesque.

"Stop, Kui Yu," she begged. "Leave them alone. They smell."

He nodded because it was true. So he set her foot down and stood. "Stay there," he ordered as he moved quickly into a side room. It was a room for practice, available at all hours for the students. It would be empty now because of General Kang's visit, but there would be fresh water and cleaning cloths.

He grabbed those things, also finding more binding strips and a basin, and he returned as quickly as possible, releasing his breath only when he saw his wife still on the tapestry. She had not fled. She sat with her foot bindings in her hand.

"Put those cloths away," he said. "I have brought fresh."

She didn't respond, except to watch him with wary eyes. As he settled at her feet, she finally spoke with a tart tone. "You cannot go about the house naked. It is unseemly," she complained.

He nodded to acknowledge it. In truth, he had forgotten he was naked. His entire focus had been on his wife. "Very well," he replied. "I will restrict such behavior to the kitchens."

She gasped at his audacity. Still, the fear in her eyes lessened. It did not disappear, however, especially as he lifted her right foot and quickly released the bonds.

The bindings were as smelly as the others, so he quickly tossed them across the room. Shi Po leaned forward to bathe her feet herself. She poured water into the basin and began to arrange herself, but Kui Yu stopped her.

It had been well over a decade since he had seen her naked feet. He had looked his fill as a new bridegroom, of course, but he had not touched them, too interested in his wife's other assets. Later, he had seen and even occasionally touched, but his wife was well skilled in methods to distract him.

Not this time, he vowed. Tonight, he would look and touch his fill. And tell her what he thought, for she was obviously embarrassed by their size.

He lifted her feet, carefully setting them both in the basin of water. She tried to fight him, but he needed no words to show his determination. His touch was firm, his expression hard, and in time, she gave in to his strength with an irritated huff.

"You need not do this," she protested.

"Yes, I do," he replied. Then he moderated his hot tone. Tonight was for honesty, so he spoke with unaccustomed frankness as he stroked a bathing cloth over her nearly five-inch feet.

"How can you think these are large?" he marveled as he held a foot in his hand. It barely covered half his palm.

She drew back at his question, but he had hold of her ankle and would not release her. "Don't be a fool," she snapped. "You know it was done too late and with great ignorance."

He nodded. He knew the story, probably in more detail than she thought, for he had heard her tell the tale to their daughter. So he began speaking with awe as he caressed her tiny golden lotuses. "Your four toes were curled under first," he said as he lifted and washed beneath the tiny pads of her smaller toes. She gasped as he worked, and he looked quickly at her face, trying to read her expression.

"Go slowly, Kui Yu. They are very sensitive."

He nodded, knowing this was true. Nothing so hidden away could be exposed and not feel every brush of air, every whisper of water and cloth.

"Your big toe came second," he continued, "curled over the smaller ones." He took his time with the large digit, circling its base all the way out to the tip as one would cup a beautiful flower bud. "Then broken pottery was pressed into your sole to bring on infection and to soften the flesh."

He pulled back her toes and applied himself to the moist, hot center of her foot. He washed as gently as he could, letting the tepid liquid flow along her flesh, easing the remembered pain. She remained silent, frozen in stillness until he applied the cloth. Then she began to pant with tiny puffs of breath that indicated great sensitivity.

"All this mass is pulled tighter and tighter until the bones break, the flesh softens, and the child stops crying," he said.

"We never stop crying, Kui Yu," she answered in a whisper. "Not until it is all done."

He knew that was true. "Eventually, the flesh is putrid. Then the foot is opened, the shards removed, the infection cleansed, and the tightest bindings are applied. That is when the foot is molded into this most perfect lotus shape."

He thought she had lost her anger, and so it surprised him when she abruptly pulled her foot away. Her bitterness was a palpable thing. "How do you know all this?" she asked.

He blinked. "We have a daughter. I was there for—"

"You were not!" she snapped. Then she swallowed, her eyes dropping to her lap. "That was women's work."

He nodded. It was. But he had listened to their daughter's sobbing, heard every scream, even watched his beautiful child totter and fall as she re-learned how to walk. He had heard it, seen it, even felt it... for as long as he could stand.

Then, in the way of all Chinese men, he had fled the house, immersing himself in his work, his money, his dreams of building a safe and happy home out of the sweat of his body.

He had succeeded. And so had Shi Po. Their daughter had married excellently. Her three-inch golden lotuses had passed the mother-in-law inspection, garnering her a wealthy, prestigious future.

His own mother, of course, had not known to inspect her future daughter-in-law. And so she had not known Shi Po's lotuses were too large and poorly shaped. Kui Yu hadn't cared, but Shi Po did. Shi Po knew. And so she had perpetually hidden her feet from him.

He grasped her other foot and pulled it toward him. He was firm, and as always her womanliness gave way to his strength. But she gave in with ill grace, growling, "My mother was a fool. To go through that agony and do it wrong..." She closed her eyes, her bitterness clear.

"It shows strength, Shi Po," he said without thought. "Your feet are a symbol to me of your strength and determination. I see this, and I marvel that you would do this to yourself. That your sex would endure such agony for men's pleasure." He shook his head, still confounded.

"It is not our choice, Kui Yu. It is done to us when we are too small to understand."

He nodded, nonplussed. "I could not have done it, Shi Po. Not to our daughter. Not to any child. You have the strength I do not." He shrugged even as he continued to cup her tiny feet. "I know that a woman with large feet will never marry well. That she often starves to death on the street if she cannot or will not prostitute herself to survive. That her husband, if one is bought for her, is an object of pity and scorn. I know these things, and yet I do not have your strength. I ran when I should have added my voice to yours. I made money for her dowry when you were ensuring that there would be suitors."

"That is your task," Shi Po said. "It is what a father does."

Kui Yu shook his head, knowing she would never understand. He looked at his wife and saw strength in her tiny feet, power in her swaying carriage, and a stunning resilience in her determination to survive anything that life demanded. He saw her, and he was amazed. He held her feet and was ashamed of his own weakness.

And yet, as he looked at her, he knew she understood none of that, could not comprehend his thoughts, and most of all, did not even believe that a man—any man—would think these things. So he remained silent in the face of her bitterness, unable to express that two inches or ten inches of feet made no difference to him. Well-shaped or grotesquely altered, her feet were a reflection of her spirit, and that he admired.

He said none of these things. He had no words for them. So he applied himself to her feet, letting his thoughts translate into his touch. His fingers dallied in each tiny crevice, gave attention to each softened curve or hardened callous. He gave to all parts of her feet, and in time, he heard her soft, barely stifled moans of pleasure.

The sole of a bound foot was the most sensitive part of a woman's body, save her yin pearl. A man educated in the ways of a dragon knew just how to touch a woman's feet in order to arouse. Kui Yu had read the dragon texts, knew just what to do, though he had never attempted the techniques before now. So he was pleased when his actions produced the very result promised in the manual. His wife began to pant, her hips shifting with rising yin. The scent of her desire rose in the humid air, mixing with the yang in his body to confound his thoughts and harden his dragon.

He loved to watch her lost in the yin embrace, and so he turned, facing her as he thrust his thumbs deep into the recesses of her two golden lotuses. She was watching him, her eyes still clear even as her yin tide made her thighs tremble and the belly of her tattooed tigress glisten with dew.

"The yin runs hot," she gasped. "But what of the yang?"

He shook his head. She could not attain Heaven without the greater yang circle. If he gave her no yang, she would remain here on Earth. With him. That was his plan, and it had succeeded well only moments ago. But he had not reckoned on Shi Po's determination. Or her skill.

One of her feet escaped his grasp. It lifted away from him only to wend its way to his dragon. The merest brush, and his yang fire surged high enough to singe his mind.

He gasped, startled by his reaction. Was he not a man? A thinking creature who had vowed to walk the dragon's path? He would not succumb to the yang hunger. He would not thrust into a woman's hot, tight opening like a beast driven mad by lust.

He would not, and yet before he realized what had occurred, his dragon was surrounded. Her feet cupped his organ, her twin lotuses slid up and down in blatant invitation.

"No!" he exclaimed. Or he thought he did. But he heard only the guttural moan of a man in pleasure.

Her tattooed tigress danced before him. Her cinnabar cave perfumed the air.

He could not... And yet, as the thought filtered through his fogged mind, he already knew it was too late. He felt the yang circle establish. From his dragon to his mind, his blood burned with desire. But that was not the worst of it. Another circle established hard and fast. It flowed male yang into Shi Po and returned sweet yin back to him. Even inexperienced as he was, he recognized the energy, knew the arc for what it was.

She had his yang. And the more she rubbed her sensitive lotuses against his dragon, the higher her yin rose.

Already she was near the peak. He heard her gasping breath as it matched his own. But her eyes were clear, her focus intent, and he knew she was preparing. With his yang and her yin, she would find Heaven.

To his horror, he watched as she extended her hand. He had thought the dagger far, far away, but she must have retrieved it when he left the room. She must have placed it next to her, and—fool that he was—he hadn't noticed.

He knew what she intended. When yin and yang reached their peak, she would cut herself. It didn't matter where. All that mattered was that the poison enter her blood. That moment of death would provide the last boost she needed to attain immortality. It would launch her to Heaven, leaving him abandoned on Earth.

Heedless of the cost, he threw himself forward, stretching his hand to pin her wrist.

He caught her, his greater weight holding her hand down, the dagger away from her tender skin. It was over then; he had stopped her. Or so he believed.

But again, he had not counted on her determination or skill.

Hissing in anger, she glared at him. "I will not be denied," she said.

Then she applied herself to his pleasure. If he thought her feet skillful before, it was nothing compared to what she did now. She stroked his dragon. With her feet, she pushed down his sheath to expose its full and hungry head. A yang pearl escaped, and she rolled it around with the curved center of her lotus. Her toes wiggled along the dragon ridge, just behind its head. Her heel rotated along the opposite axis, a rough counterpoint to the pulsing movements of her toes. In this way, she stimulated her own yin and set his yang to throbbing against her sensitive sole.

She was stealing his yang, using it to leave him, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it; nothing except bring her tide to its fullest height. Now, before she gained enough to attain heaven. Before he lost control enough to release her wrist. Before his dragon commanded all his attention.

He had the means directly before him. Indeed, he had been fighting the scent of her yin perfume since this began. Given his position, she was open directly before him. He needed only to dip his head to raise her yin too quickly to match his yang.

He did just that. He had no hand to help him; his left supported his weight and his right held her wrist pinned. Fortunately, he needed no tools beyond his mouth and tongue.

He pressed his lips to her pearl and extended his tongue to skate and swirl around whatever he could find. Her reaction was immediate. Her body arched, and she screamed. She had not expected this sudden surge in yin, and so he continued his motions, redoubling his efforts to bring her too quickly to her peak. Meanwhile, she used all her skill against him, and the feel of her writhing beneath his tongue was as much a weapon as anything else.

Another circle established. Yin entered Kui Yu's body and mind through his mouth, aided by his wife's scent. It flowed into him, drawing a matching surge of yang in his blood which flowed straight back to Shi Po.

Did she have enough yet? She couldn't. And yet, he was thrusting hard against her feet, nearing completion despite his every effort to stop. It was coming. The yang surge would be more than enough for her. He had to take her beyond her ability to ride the yin tide before that moment. He had to.

So he began to suck, and nip and stroke. He did everything his limited control could manage while she bucked and surged beneath him.

He heard her scream. He felt her body tense beneath his lips, and felt rhythmic contractions convulse her flesh on the yin tide. She was lost. He heard it in her scream. And in that moment, he lost his own battle. He exploded against her feet, yang fire erupting through him and into her.

But then there was more...

* * *

April 9,1880

 

Dearest Lun Po—

I am in despair. Your father still will not receive me. I have nearly beggared myself sending him gifts, thinking up poetry. I even found Imperial jade and bribed the merchant to sell it to me. As if the price alone weren't enough! I want to quit this English master. I want to open a store of my own. But how can I save money when it all goes into gifts to your father who will not even open the door to me?

Lun Po, you must get me to the next bridegroom dinner. You must. Or I will come anyway and you will have to throw me out. Imagine the scene I would cause then.

Do not fail me, my old friend. Help me in this small way, and I shall be forever in your debt.

Your most desperate friend,

Kui Yu

* * *

April 13,1880

 

Dear Kui Yu—

Be reasonable, my old friend. Your family name was born yesterday, and your hands are rough from labor. You work for the white barbarians and have less education than I. You cannot expect us to hand the flower of our generation into hands that daily commerce with devils.

With great sadness,

Lun Po