Chapter 1

 

Shanghai, 1898

 

She knew!

The white woman knew the way to Heaven! Shi Po pounded down the stairs to the front hallway, her bound feet protesting every stunned, angry, awed and gleeful step. She had no idea how she could feel all those things at once, especially since she had felt nothing for so many years. But she did. And her feet protested, pain forcing her to soften her steps.

In any case, it would be suicide to enter a general's presence appearing anything other than vapidly stupid, so Shi Po moderated her pace and pasted on her face an expression of ox-like placidity. She would appear as any wealthy woman in China: a useless thing of beauty. The servants handed her a tea tray, and she was soon pushing into the receiving room while struggling to quiet her spirit.

The General was an ugly man. That was her first thought. Not ugly in a physical sense, but in his fortune. His body was handsome enough, she supposed. His shoulders were broad and imposing, especially with his leather armor; his Manchu queue was dark and thick, the tight braid clubbed close to his head. But his face revealed the ugliness of bad fortune. His head was short and compact, depicting little luck, except for his chin which was long and pointed, suggesting a happier old age. His earlobes were also long and full, but Shi Po did not trust that. She guessed that his mother had tugged incessantly at his ears to counteract the fortune in his face.

The most damning evidence of all, though, was not in his body, but in the stench that pervaded the room. Horse and man and Shanghai mud produced a commonplace odor, a thick and sour stench that burned the back of one's nostrils. But all men in Shanghai carried that particular curse to some degree. It was the other smell that made Shi Po duck her head and wish for her perfumed oils. He carried the decay-like scent of fear covered by anger. And the smell of old blood.

This man was a killer. Not just a general of the Imperial Qin army, but a murderer of innocents. Of that she was certain.

"Tea, your honor," she said as she minced through the room. "To pass the time until my husband returns." She wished she'd had time to change out of her red skirt with the fashionable slits up to mid-thigh; she had no desire to display herself before this man. But perhaps the garb would help her appear completely useless.

One look at the General's thickly compressed eyebrows damped Shi Po's hopes. He saw through her feigned stupidity. And even if he didn't, this man disposed of useless, silly things. Of course, that did not stop the man from studying her face and body closely. Lust twisted his features as his gaze traveled from her high knot of black hair across features that she knew appeared extraordinarily young. Though she was nearing her fortieth year, her skin was milky white and her eyes and lips were expertly painted to appear lush. Her bones had always been fine, but her Tigress practice made her entire body lithe and willowy. Youth and beauty were a natural by-product of that practice. All her students drew the eye as they moved, Shi Po most of all. So she remained as still as she could, even though it hurt her tiny bound feet.

"You are Tan Shi Po?" he demanded in his northern Mandarin dialect.

She dipped in a respectful bow, answering in kind, though the language was difficult for her, Shanghai-born as she was. "Yes, your honor."

"When will your husband return?"

"He was sent for the moment you arrived." She folded her body onto a pillow near a low table.

All the cushions in Shi Po's home were scented with soothing, pleasant herbs, and the one she settled on was no different. So as she leaned forward to mix leaves and hot water in the General's cup, she should have inhaled the sweet scent of radish seed and cinnamon, ci shi and sandalwood. She didn't. Instead, she smelled the same vile mixture of fear and anger, rising like steam from her own skin.

She hated that women must serve as mirrors to men, reflecting their emotions. Women in the Empire had no voice of their own. They did as they were told, hiding their true selves or risking abuse and death. Even Shi Po as head Tigress—especially Shi Po—had to appear subservient. But there was power in submission, especially when one became a mirror. When one showed a man what he wanted to see most of all: himself. His emotions and desires. Shi Po had perfected that skill to the point of unconscious reaction. She reflected all around her whether she willed it or not. So when the General showed fear, she shared it with him. His anger sparked her rage. And no amount of tea or sweet herbs could cover the disgusting fumes that now rose from both of their bodies.

Shi Po poured the General's tea, her hands steady through an act of will. But all the while her thoughts writhed in her mind, searching for escape. Where was her husband? Surely he would be found soon. Kui Yu would not disregard an Imperial summons, especially when it came in the form of the most powerful general in China. He would be here soon, she reassured herself, and with his return, she could regain her calm. She would absorb her husband's quietness; her fear would fade, the rage dissipate, and she would be in balance again. As soon as Kui Yu returned.

"Might I know how to best serve your honor?" she simpered to the General, forcing herself into the aspect of total feminine subservience.

The man sipped his tea and grimaced before setting it aside. She had chosen tea leaves to purify and soothe, but he pushed his cup away. Clearly his spirit had no desire to moderate its temper. She bowed her head, softening her body in an attempt to distort the mirror she was; she did not want to increase her reflection of his foul aspect.

His harsh words interrupted her thoughts. "You are Tan Shi Po, sister to the traitor Abbot Tseng Rui Po."

She flinched, unable to keep a surge of blood from heating her face. Fortunately, she was able to shift her attitude to wounded confusion, as if he had just hurt a helpless animal.

"Why would you say such a thing?" she whispered.

"Because it is true." His tone was hard as hurled stone. "And he has paid for his crimes. He and all his so-called monks."

She Po already knew her brother was dead. The last of his students—a Manchurian—had brought the evil news some days ago. Along with a white girl. The white girl. The two had already managed to sow discord in her quiet little school. But Shi Po could not allow the General to know that, so she raised stricken eyes to him.

"Paid?" she gasped. "How...?" She swallowed, making sure her voice remained breathy. "Please, sir, what were his crimes? And how... how did he pay?"

The General leaned forward, using his superior height to intimidate. In this, however, he failed, because the angle gave Shi Po a good view of the thin space between his upper lip and his nose. Indeed, this man was doomed by fortune, and that thought alone heartened her.

"Your brother trained rebels of the White Lotus Society. He and all his misguided followers have been executed for their foolishness." The General slowed his words for maximum effect, and Shi Po found her gaze pulled from his thin lip to his piercing eyes. "All are dead save one student. One man spared to pass the warning." He pushed loudly to his feet. "You know where this man is, Tan Shi Po. And you will take me to him. Now."

Such was the power of the General's spirit that Shi Po found herself rising. But she was a mirror; as his strength increased, so did her own.

"I know nothing of this," she lied. "Are you sure? Abbot Tseng of the Shiyu monastery?"

The General would have none of it. His hand was huge, the pressure intense where he gripped her arm, lifting Shi Po to her feet. His leg knocked the table, spilling his tea onto the ancient wood floor. He ignored it, focused on her.

"One monk. Carrying sacred scrolls. He came to you." Though he spoke it as fact, Shi Po felt a quiver of doubt through the General's hand. The man was guessing, hoping he was correct.

Which, of course, he was.

She shook her head, pretending to be stunned by her brother's death. "Rui Po!" she wailed, tears flowing like a river as would be expected from a woman at any relative's death. Indeed, over the years she had perfected the skill of crying on demand. But this time Shi Po's grief was real, the pain of her brother's death still fresh.

The General dismissed her with a grunt. "I will search your home now."

"But why?" she gasped through her tears. "I know nothing of your monk."

He turned, his eyes on fire, the stench of his fear keeping her on her knees. "Because he is my monk, Tigress Shi Po."

Shi Po barely registered the words. Her gaze, her mind—indeed, her entire spirit—was caught by the vision of the General's body in profile. A light reflected up from the polished floor, or maybe a similarity in gesture, revealed the secret. Both men were Manchu, after all. Both were warriors, for all that one was a monk. Whatever the cause, the truth burst into her mind:

"You are his father," she said.

And in that moment, all changed. Days before, Shi Po had accepted the truth-seeker into her home, the monk with political connections who needed time to recover from the massacre of his entire monastery. The monk, who had brought news of her brother. Now Shi Po knew she was keeping a father from his son—a sin punishable by death.

She rose to her feet, balancing precariously on her tiny heels as she wiped away her tears. The General was silent, his fury betrayed by clenched fists. "You know nothing about my son," he said with a growl. "Do not presume to understand your betters, Han sorceress."

Shi Po's gaze dropped to the floor, only now remembering he had called her by her title. Tigress, he had said. He knew who she was, what she was, and so cursed her as a sorceress. At least that was better than being called a whore.

"I merely guess, my lord." Her words grew softer, full of feminine modesty. "Only a father could claim a monk as his own."

"And only the unnatural leader of a twisted religion would dare deny me," he replied.

She had not denied him anything—yet. The insults to her calling she credited as noise from a monkey's mouth. And yet, her problem remained: She sheltered General Kang's son. Part of her longed to turn the boy over for bringing this trouble to her home.

"My house," she said, "is open to you. All except the women's quarters." She looked up, but kept herself blank, trying to stop reflecting his venom. "You are a powerful man in form and spirit. I cannot risk the chaos your presence would have on the delicate ladies of my household."

"You mean the misguided whores of your perverse religion."

She said nothing. Indeed, if he knew enough to call her a Tigress, then he knew enough to be enlightened if he chose. Obviously, he did not. She had no choice but to accept his condemnation, for such was the lot of all women in China, whether Manchurian or Han.

He continued to glare at her, his eyes narrowed in his pinched face. "I have no interest in your women. My son would not contaminate himself with the likes of you."

How she wished to tell the General the truth. Not only was his son contaminating himself with the Tigress "perversions," he did so with a white woman. But saying such a thing would be to hand the General a torch to burn her house to the ground—with herself and her followers all inside. So she remained silent, moving slowly forward and exaggerating the difficulty of walking on bound feet.

She led him through the main house, pausing only as the General motioned for six soldiers to accompany them. She remained gracious throughout, for that was a woman's duty. Even as the soldiers pushed aside large urns of rice or banged through the pots. They disturbed cats and servants, dragged aside tapestries and furniture. And they found nothing, of course, even though they dug their filthy hands deep into sacks of vegetables and piles of linens.

He was kind in that his men were careful. But Shi Po's sense of violation increased as the General's men pulled up floorboards looking for secret caches and poured water onto stone floors looking for hidden pits. Her entire home was disrupted, and she could do nothing but stand aside and watch.

Until she heard a scream. It came from the women's quarters: the building where her students practiced; the place of many bedrooms, including the one that sheltered the General's son and his white partner.

Shi Po spun on her heel, grabbing the wall as she teetered, then rushed toward the sound. The General followed. She moved faster, knowing her home and the handholds needed to travel quickly to the inside garden. She guessed what had happened. Knew, in fact, from the very beginning that such a thing was coming. Still, she had thought her husband would return by now and find a way to prevent it. But Kui Yu was not here.

Shi Po scurried around the goldfish fountain and flowering lotus to see her best student—Little Pearl—struggling in the grip of a soldier. More of the General's men were throwing open doors, roughly dragging her Tigress cubs outside. Fortunately, none had partners with them. The servants had already seen to the gentlemen's escape.

All except one: the monk. No, she silently corrected herself. The General's son.

Shi Po slowed her pace, her mind working furiously. She could not afford a rash action here. The soldiers would soon work their way to the monk's room.

The General made his way over to her, and she rounded on him, allowing her fury to boil over. Tears and supplication had not worked with the man; she would try outrage.

"How can you be so cruel?" she screeched. "You swore to me you would not upset these ladies' delicate conditions!" Right on cue, her cubs descended into wails, not all of which were feigned. "Is the word of an Imperial general worth so little?"

"My gravest apologies, Lady Tan," Kang said as he took in every detail: her cubs' beauty, their fit figures, their easily removable clothing. "My men misunderstood my direction. Their actions were rash."

Shi Po sincerely doubted his men had misunderstood anything, but she held her tongue. Especially as the General ordered the soldiers to release the women. They did, but their lewd and hungry eyes continued to travel over the girls. At least none of her students seemed harmed.

Shi Po sent a speaking look to Little Pearl, who nodded her head and quickly shepherded the other cubs away. They would be given mundane clothing to wear, and each would disappear to their homes. Those who had nowhere to go would dress as deformed servants—scullery maids with dark red rashes or diseased beggars come inside for a crumb of bread. There would be no trace of the beauties that studied with her, and so they would be safe.

Not so with the monk and his white woman who were hiding on the upper floor, relying on Shi Po to keep them safe.

"General, call all your men back! I have sick women upstairs," she lied.

"Disease is a natural result of your unholy work," he replied in a bored tone. Then he spoke to his lieutenant: "Tell them to be wary of foulness."

"You said they would not disturb the women!" Shi Po cried again.

"Oh yes," General Kang drawled. "An error on my part. No harm done. My men will return in a moment."

What could she do? Nothing. Only scramble for an excuse for not having handed over the monk and his white woman earlier. And still there was no sign of Kui Yu. There was no rescue from her husband or the doom that awaited her.

She swallowed. "General Kang, surely this is not necessary. You can see—"

"Silence, sorceress. You have no voice here."

For emphasis, the nearest soldier drew his sword, the scrape of metal loud in the perfumed garden. All around Shi Po, the men tensed, ready to battle whatever mystical forces might appear between her ornamental bushes and sweet-smelling grasses. Their pose might have been funny if they weren't so earnest—if they didn't truly think she was some evil mystic they planned to kill if the wind so much as rustled in the trees.

"Very well," she murmured, her spirit struggling against the inevitable. There was nothing she could do to help the monk and his woman; she would do what she could to protect herself and her students. "I will see to my distraught women." She turned, intending to walk calmly and quickly out of the garden.

"You will wait upon my pleasure, Tigress." The General sneered her title, the sound so foul she would have preferred to be called a whore.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that men waited upon her pleasure, not the other way around. Why else would she become a Tigress? But then there was a commotion from the building, and she managed—just barely—to keep her tongue.

"Anything?" the General called out to his men, his voice as tight as his face.

One soldier appeared. Two. Then two more exited the building. But no monk. And no white girl.

"We found empty bedrooms, General. Rumpled sheets. Water in the basins. But no people, diseased or otherwise."

The General stepped forward, the smell of his anger and fear multiplying. "No one?"

"No, sir."

"Were there signs of a man? Anything that would indicate—"

"Nothing, General. Just rumpled sheets and water."

Shi Po listened with a bowed head, her eyes carefully downcast. They had found nothing? No monk? No ghost woman? She lifted her gaze, narrowing her eyes as she tried to imagine where the two might be hiding. Where would the white woman go?

She cared nothing for the monk, except for the desire that he and his father quit her home immediately. That he had escaped meant nothing to her, as long as he left the girl behind. Shi Po had been most explicit. She had told the white woman to stay here, and the white woman had nodded in agreement.

Now, where was she?

Shi Po's anger got the best of her, and she pushed forward. "What of the sick girl? The one with no voice. She is not there?"

The soldier didn't look at her, answering her question as if the General had posed it. "No one, sir. No sick women. And no men at all. We searched most thoroughly."

General Kang spit out a curse that echoed through the garden. Shi Po would have blushed if she were not thinking the same thing. Where had the woman gone? She had to find her. Immortality depended upon it.

But first she had an angry general to deal with, and no husband to take the weight from her shoulders. "You see, do you not, that you were misinformed?" she said. "I do not know where your..." She would have said son, but the General's eyes narrowed to slits and she hastily changed her words. "Your monk is not in my home. Please, you have disrupted everything. Will you not leave me in peace?"

The General stepped up to her. His body, his smell, his very presence was poisonous. "If I find you lie..." He did not complete his threat. He did not need to. All knew what he meant.

She bowed her head. "He is not here. And I have no way to find him." She spoke the truth, and it was her doom. For the white girl was surely with the monk, the pair fled to a place where neither general nor Tigress could discover them.

General Kang wasted no more time on her. Issuing orders with a sharp tongue, he and his soldiers departed quickly, leaving noise and clutter and anxious servants in their wake.

It was only after he was gone, after the last sound of armor and horses faded from the street that Shi Po allowed herself to move. Then, with heavy steps, she moved through her building. It was empty; every room open, every piece of furniture disturbed. She did not need to walk to their room to know the truth; she felt it in the still and suddenly sour air:

The white woman was gone.

And so Shi Po would die.

* * *

Kui Yu jumped from the rickshaw. His long, black Manchurian queue bounced on his back as he ran through the front gate. Fear churned in his belly as his thoughts boiled. Why would an Imperial General come to his home? On today of all days, when he was with Lily and nowhere to be found?

He rushed through the receiving room and into the back garden. What had Shi Po done now? He should have paid more attention to her activities. A man was responsible for his home, but what his wife did with her women was of little interest to him. And what she did with the men left him cold and resentful. So he had looked the other way. And now an Imperial General had invaded his home.

His steps faltered. Vague impressions hit him—some from memory, some from what was directly in front of him. First he recalled the receiving room. Though he couldn't quite remember what, something had been amiss there. Something was skewed. And looking about, he felt the same strangeness in the garden but could not identify what he perceived. A branch was broken here. A stone was kicked into the pathway there. But what...?

Silence.

There was total and absolute silence. Not from the birds or cats, not even from the wind in the trees or the clatter of wheels on the distant road; this was a different silence. A human silence. It was the absence of servant noise, of students in their rooms, of people anywhere.

Was his home deserted?

No. Here came a maid, sidling close. What was her name? He couldn't remember. His wife took in females from all over China: destitute girls, abandoned girls, girls of ill-repute. It seemed that all found their way to his home, were given a fresh start, then eventually went on their way.

So, what was this one's name?

"Master. Master, you are home." The maid probably meant to exclaim loudly, but her voice was too soft, her demeanor too quiet. Indeed, she was nearly on top of him before he realized she was speaking.

"What has happened?" he asked. The girl shied backwards and her eyes widened in alarm. He tried to soften his expression, but some of the maids were too delicate for his coarse features. He was a large man, strong and intense. His face was common and his hands were calloused with labor. But he was still master here and he required answers. "Where is Shi Po?"

"The mistress is in her meditation chamber."

Kui Yu nodded, knowing that was where Shi Po always sought refuge. At least she was not dead or arrested.

"What happened this afternoon? Are all the Imperial soldiers gone?"

She bowed and said again, "The mistress is in her meditation chamber."

"Yes, yes," he snapped. "But tell me—"

She grabbed his arm—a bold and shocking gesture for one so timid—and tugged him toward the private family quarters. "The mistress," she repeated.

Clearly he would get no more answers from her. So he pressed his lips together and lengthened his stride. All too soon the maid fell behind, and he maneuvered through the garden alone and into his disturbed home toward his wife's most private chamber.

The antechamber was in typical disarray. This was the room where Shi Po vented her spleen—on walls and furniture and clothing. It was always in chaos, and no cushion ever survived beyond a week. Kui Yu called it the Place of Ill Humors, for this was where Shi Po destroyed things as she released her frustrations. And when she was done, she would calmly and quietly walk into her meditation room. There she would sit in contemplation, her eyes half closed, her body completely still. Having just purged her ill humors, she was able to exist in absolute stillness.

That the room was completely destroyed did not surprise him; any visit by an Imperial general would likely produce a vehement response. So he stepped past the splinters of cheap wood and shredded cotton. He walked to the door of her meditation chamber, coming to stand beside it, his heart pounding until he feared it would jump from his throat. He opened the door.

His wife sat in the center of the room, her eyes fully open, her legs pushed out before her and not folded neatly in her meditative pose. To the side, Kui Yu saw rice cakes and wine, a mango and steamed dumplings. All these foods most tempted his wife, but she had not touched a single one. Nearby the statue of Kwan Yin, Goddess of Hope, stood in shadow. The altar candles had guttered into darkness. And set before Shi Po, arrayed in a line, were a hanging noose, a tea cup and vial of something unnamed, a cage of two scorpions, and lastly, a long, thin dagger.

Kui Yu stared, speechless. The Chinese were always aware of death, his wife much more than most. To see these things arrayed in front of her told him she had moved beyond thinking to planning.

"You are late." His wife's voice was flat. Dull.

He swallowed, his guilt overwhelming as he fought for balance. "I came as soon as the messenger found me."

"Then perhaps we should hire a new messenger."

Kui Yu nodded, though he knew it wasn't the boy's fault. He had worked hard to ensure he could not be found. He had not known an Imperial General would visit.

"Come in," his wife ordered.

He did as she bade him, easing the door shut before walking with steady, measured steps into the room. He sank to his knees before Shi Po, the long line of objects between them. They were all objects designed to kill.

"If you wish to die, a viper would be better than a pair of scorpions," he said. He did not know where the comment came from. Indeed, he had no wish to see his wife near any of the items. But that was his constant sin: speaking without thought, reaching for humor in situations that required extreme delicacy.

His wife looked at the small cage, a frown on her face. "You do not think two will suffice?"

He shook his head. "You would need a dozen at least."

She sighed, took the cage and carefully set it aside. "That is why I waited for you," she said. "You are wise."

He looked down at the remaining items, then picked up the vial. It was labeled, he now saw, but the words meant nothing to him. Given the other items, he expected it would be poison. A deadly one.

He set the vial back down and looked up at his wife. "Perhaps you should tell me exactly what occurred with General Kang. The messenger gave no details at all, and I have spoken to no one but you since returning home." It wasn't worth mentioning the taciturn maid.

His wife shrugged, the movement weary. "He came. He disliked my tea. He and his men searched the house, then left empty-handed."

"The monk? And the white woman?"

"Gone." She looked up at him, and for the first time that day, Kui Yu saw an emotion slip past Shi Po's control: anguish, deep and searing, and quickly masked. "They fled," she said. "Probably just in time." She swallowed, her gaze dropping back to the floor. "I told her to stay, but I could not prevent the soldiers from searching."

"But they found nothing, correct?" Kui Yu pressed. "There is nothing to prove we hid the woman or the—"

"General Kang's son."

He jerked back. "What?" He had heard her, of course, but it took time to imagine the implications. Shi Po understood, and waited in silence while his mind grappled with the possibilities. "General Kang is the most influential, most powerful man in China, with the exception of the Emperor and his mother," he said at last.

Shi Po nodded, encouraging him to voice his thoughts. This was the way they often spoke on important matters: She was silent, he wrestled aloud. In this she acted as a typical woman of China—silent and beautiful. He preferred it when she spoke.

"The monk," he continued. "The Manchurian. You are sure he is General Kang's son?"

She inclined her head, her shoulders swaying slightly with the movement.

"And we hid his son from him." It was not a question, so his wife said nothing. "We forced a white woman on him."

At this Shi Po looked up, her eyes flashing the fire that sometimes lit their dark depths. "I forced him. He wished to learn. I was the one to choose his partner."

He waved her comment away. "This is my house, Tan Shi Po. You may be the Tigress, but I am responsible for what happens here."

Her eyes burned with disobedience but then she lowered them, hiding their obsidian depths. Disobedience was not all she hid, he knew, but he had no access to her thoughts. He never had. So he forced himself to continue his previous train of thought.

"The monk..." He pondered. "So, Kang's son is gone, running from his father for his own reasons. The white woman left with him." He saw his wife flinch at his words then still. Kui Yu waited, hoping she would speak, but she remained stubbornly silent. In the end, he continued: "They are gone. The general found nothing here to suspect."

"He needs no other reason," Shi Po snapped. "He knows of my faith, and accuses me of depravity with every breath."

"Then he is a fool," Kui Yu returned, both hating and admiring his wife for having chosen such a difficult path. "And powerful fools are always dangerous."

A moment later he frowned. "How did he know what you are?" he asked. The cult of the Tigress was virtually unknown in China. Few would accept a religion that embraced sex as a means to Enlightenment. Fewer still would learn from a woman. That the general knew of her practice and title suggested larger issues at work. And bigger danger.

Shi Po lifted her gaze to him, her pain obvious though she tried to hide it. "He murdered my brother."

Kui Yu sighed. He had suspected as much. There were few other ways the general could have learned the truth. "Because of a feud with his son?"

"It is a good guess," Shi Po agreed.

Kui Yu sighed again. "We are caught in a family struggle."

" 'When dragons fight, the rice field is destroyed,'" his wife quoted mournfully.

Kui Yu nodded, agreeing. Still, he was unable to explain the array of dangerous objects around her.

"Do you think to fight our way to safety?" he asked, ready to forbid such a rash action.

She frowned at him, obviously confused. "General Kang is gone. I do not fear his return."

"Then who will you poison? Or hang? Or stab?"

Suddenly, he knew the answer. A hanging cord was used for only one purpose. The poison as well, for it had a vile smell that could not be disguised. As for the dagger... He picked it up.

"Be careful!" she snapped, her hand jerking forward but stopping short of the blade. "It has been dipped in snake venom. The merest cut..."

He nodded. "So you did think of the viper." He looked at her face, trying to keep his expression open to encourage confession. "I am not dishonored by your life, wife. Why do you contemplate suicide?"

He watched her shoulders relax and knew that he had finally learned what she wanted to discuss. She said, "The ghost woman is gone." He blinked and waited for the full explanation, but Shi Po said nothing more. She sat, her eyes dull as old coal.

He played for time, repeating her words. "The white woman left. With Kang's son."

She nodded. Then, at his obvious confusion, she dropped another clue. "I told her to stay, but she left."

Kui Yu frowned. He still didn't understand. "She left despite your orders? She chose the Kang son over your tutelage?"

Shi Po nodded.

He shrugged. Many of Shi Po's students eventually chose a different path. Some left for husbands, some for the easier and wealthier life of prostitution. Therefore, the problem was less obvious than what she'd said.

"Why would you want the ghost woman to stay?" he asked. He purposely used the derogatory phrase for a white, knowing that Shi Po believed what the Emperor taught: The barbarians were insubstantial, ghostly, no more than animals. Indeed, she had once laughingly told him that one of her students kept a white woman as a pet—as his slave. So...

"Of what use was she?" he asked. "I thought her only purpose was to be a test of the Kang son."

His wife's eyes lowered, and her back slumped. She stared at her bound feet and tugged the edge of their binding. "Last night, the white girl practiced with the Kang son. It was her first time, and yet..."

As Shi Po's voice faded away, Kui Yu finally understood. "She touched heaven," he said. "On her first night of practice, she touched the divine." It was not a question. He could see the truth in his wife's posture.

Shi Po confirmed his guess with her anger, her every word torn from her like entrails. "She is a ghost person, too insubstantial to achieve even the smallest part of what I do!"

Kui Yu nodded, knowing that was what his wife believed.

"But Ru Shan's pet," Shi Po continued, her voice rising in outrage, "she also was a ghost woman, and she became an Immortal! He made me write her name on the tablet!" She gestured angrily at the sacred Tigress records arrayed along the walls of the meditation room.

Kui Yu tried to sum up. "You did not think whites could achieve Immortality. And now two of them—the only two you have ever met—have achieved Immortality in a bare few months, whereas you—"

"The Kang boy's woman is not an Immortal!" she snapped.

No, she wasn't, realized Kui Yu silently. But she had obviously touched a part of Heaven that had come to Shi Po only after years of dedicated study.

"Why is it so easy for the whites?" he asked.

"I don't know," Shi Po answered, her voice breaking. "You know more of them than I. Do you know?"

He had no answer. He knew too little of the process of what she did. He should have paid more attention, but his time had been spent on his businesses. And she had never encouraged his curiosity.

"Is it because they are animals?" Shi Po wondered aloud. "Are they closer to their passions?"

Kui Yu remained silent, waiting to see where she went.

She sighed. "I think..." She swallowed. "I do not think the Emperor has been advised correctly. I think the white people are not fully barbarian."

Kui Yu nodded, but he was shocked. He remembered his own surprise the day he'd reached that conclusion, and now Shi Po had come to share his belief. He felt a glow of a pleasure. "You are wise, my wife, to see clearly what is so obscured to others." And she is strong, he thought to himself. Strong enough to admit when she is wrong, and to adjust her thoughts. Many men he knew would not do so much.

But why would such a revelation lead to his wife's suicide? He felt his chest tighten, frustration making him hasty, even though he knew he should speak with care. "I am sorry, Shi Po. I wish I could be more clever for you, but I am a humble man with a humble mind. Please tell me why you have gathered these things."

"I cannot do it, Kui Yu."

He flinched. She never used his proper name. Never unless her message was dire.

"I will never attain what a ghost pet did in a matter of days." Her distress was obvious not in her face, but in the aimless fluttering of her hands.

"But you study," he said. "You meditate." Indeed, the pursuit of immortality had driven her night and day for months. Which led to one preposterous conclusion: "You plan suicide out of dishonor? Because you failed to reach Immortality?" he asked. He shook his head in disbelief. "What would you say to a student who said such a thing?" he challenged. "You would tell her that only nine Immortals live in China."

"There are other buddhas. More than two hundred. And within the Tigresses—"

He continued without pause. "That not all attain Enlightenment at the same time. You would remind her of the tale of Li Bai and the lady with the iron rod."

Shi Po lifted her head, her eyes brightening with anger. They both knew the story of the old woman who day by day filed down an iron rod to make a needle, and how that had shamed young Li Bai into returning to his studies.

"'Great achievement takes great devotion,'" his wife recited, but she said the story's moral in anger.

Kui Yu ignored it. "Do you abandon your devotion now? After so many years?"

His wife straightened her spine, and he was pleased to see fire light her eyes, even if it was directed at him. "I have nothing but devotion!"

"Then why—"

"I will become an Immortal!"

Kui Yu stared at Shi Po, completely lost. "Dead women cannot become immortal," he said.

She shook her head. "Do you know why we work so hard, my husband? Why we Tigresses study and meditate and practice with such devotion? It is not so we can reach Heaven. I have had the right mixture of yin and yang since I was a young girl. Inside, I know the Immortal merely waits to be born."

He struggled to understand. She'd had the right ingredients for immortality when she was young? But she'd only begun her practice a decade ago, after their last child was born.

"We study, my husband, so that we can return to Earth after reaching Heaven. We discipline our minds and bodies so that we have the strength to rise there and then return to our bodies here in the Middle Kingdom."

"You believe you will be an Immortal no matter what?"

She nodded. "Yes. But one who cannot return."

His eyes widened as he began to comprehend.

"I am tired, Kui Yu. Tired of strengthening myself without testing my reward."

He shook his head, not understanding.

"I will be an Immortal, my husband. If I cannot go and return, then I will simply go." She took a deep breath, straightening her body and returning her gaze to the items before her. "All that remains is the method of my departure."

"Your death, you mean. The way you intend to die."

She glanced up at him, her eyes calm, her lips curved in a sad smile. "You are most wise, my husband. I was confident you would understand."

* * *

October 22,1877

 

Lun Po—

Attached are my suggestions for your essay. Try to remember that Confucius and Lao Tzu had very different philosophies. Misattributing quotes from The Analects as from The Way will be extremely damaging during the Imperial Examination.

As for me, I have discovered that I can construct bamboo scaffolding in record time. Though I can barely hold a scholar's brush by sunset, the money I make far outweighs the aches. Indeed, the foreman tips me well for standing near the barbarian bosses and listening to their English words. I can speak the foreign tongue better than anyone, so I expect I will not be long on scaffolding construction. But even one day feels like a dynasty, and only a single image keeps my spirit from being completely ruined. You will laugh when you hear this, but understand that my life consists of unending tedium. I must think of something or go mad.

I think of a woman. A girl, really, one who embodies everything that is good and wholesome in China. Someone who is quiet with small feet and a sweet smile. Someone who has no need of painted flowers or wooden butterflies to adorn her hair. A girl who has skin the color of fresh milk and walks with the tiny steps and swaying hips of the greatest Empress.

You know of whom I speak. Pray do not be offended. Simply know that your sister Shi Po has accomplished the greatest thing a woman can. She is an inspiration.

Do not tell her of my foolish thoughts. It will upset her maidenly spirit, and she will think me a foolish, lunkhead coolie. I am those things, of course, while she is a vision of transcendent beauty. And yet without her pure image in my head, I could not survive my long, terrible days.

I must rest now. My writing has deteriorated, and you probably think me drunk. I am, perhaps, but only on endless days spent on bamboo poles and short nights of aches alleviated by memory. Yes, I remember our days studying together and our kind tutor. I still owe him money for all those years of teaching. Even more, now that he allows us to exchange letters through him. Could you not give him a small token for me? My pay will not come for weeks yet, so mother and I have nothing now.

In the meantime, study hard for both of us. One of us should pass the Imperial exam. I pray nightly that it is you. And by day, I remember the greatest beauty in China.

Your devoted friend,

Kui Yu