Free Burning Tigress by Jade Lee Page B

you?" Her last words were high-pitched, squeaked as if by a little girl. Appalling, really, since she was no child.
    "No, Miss Charlotte, I do not." Again he gave a deep bow. "Good day."
    And a moment later, she found herself on the opposite side of his closed door.
    * * *
    Ken Jin stood facing the shut door. His legs were spread, his hands planted firmly on his hips, and his dragon was as hard as a Shantung maple. All in all, an excellent day. So why was he clenching his jaw as if he were about to chew ginger?
    He turned to his desk, refocusing his thoughts on work. He had ledger entries to record, bills of lading to reconcile with ship accounts, and hours of letters to write for Mr. Wicks's signature. Nothing was urgent, but all was important. And with nothing else to occupy his time, he knew he would be at his desk well into the night.
    Squaring his shoulders, he settled into his chair, making sure his legs were spread wide so as to give his organ room to breathe. He pulled out the ledger, opening it... only to stare at the neat columns of barbarian writing. No, he abruptly decided, he would not work on white people's numbers today. His qi was in too much disorder to work in straight lines.
    The letters, then. Putting the ledger away beneath the abacas, he drew out Mr. Wicks's special letter paper. He curled his lip in disdain at its scent and feel: too flat, too cold. It never absorbed the ink correctly, not of a good Chinese brush at least. And so he had to use a "fountain pen"—a barbarian creation of metal that was too small and dead to properly control.
    No. He would use a brush to write his family, and he owed his brother a letter. That would be an efficient use of his time. And it would be an adequately Chinese pastime, to counteract the other forces in his life.
    He set down the pen, but did not take up the brush. Slowly, his hand curled into a fist. Abacas, brush, ink stone. Stationery, ledger, pen. What did he want? What should he do? A balanced man walked the middle path, but when the Dragon played near the Tigress's mouth, the Tigress seized the fallen jade. Ledgers or letter? Balanced path or Tigress play? White or Chinese?
    Who was he? Disowned by his Chinese family, he had to learn to be white to work and survive. Now the Chinese would not speak to him unless it was to take his money; the whites used him as translator and manager but still disdained him as a servant. Where was his path?
    His dragon wilted away to nothing as thoughts churned in his mind. His qi was weakening by the second. Grabbing his bills of lading, he abruptly strode out of the manor, pretending to head for the docks. In truth, he had no thought as to where he would go. Or rather, he had too many thoughts, too many responsibilities.
    Should he return to the Tigress school to help Little Pearl? Should he go to his private rooms for practice? He even considered a more public venue, with a willing woman where he could gather more yin. But no answer was right, nothing settled his disordered spirit.
    At last he decided to help the Tans. He would drive the Wicks carriage to the prison. He judged it would take half his money to bribe his way into the Tigress's cell, and the other half to arrange for her release. It would take a good deal longer and a great deal more money to arrange for her husband Kui Yu's freedom, but Ken Jin knew the man's honor; he would want Shi Po released first. And so Ken Jin hefted his tiny purse and prayed he had enough.
    Very soon, he realized he didn't have anything close to enough. In several hours, he spent two-thirds of his money just to verify that the Tans were indeed held exactly where he'd guessed, in Shanghai's military compound. The last third went toward the discovery that some guards could not be bribed. He did not even manage a visit to the "whore Shi Po" and her husband, the "barbarian-loving Kui Yu."
    In short, his scattered energies doomed him, and he spent everything he had to learn that lesson. He