To Embers We Return — Chapter 27
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‘I’m not ticklish.’
The meaning behind Shen Ni’s words was unmistakable. She pressed the little jar of lip-rouge back into Bian Jin’s palm. It jostled gently between their fingers, stirring up undercurrents that were redolent with suggestion. Like the covert meeting of hands as winecups were exchanged at a banquet, like those first moments of sweet hesitation when the lamps were dimmed and the bed-curtains lowered over a pair of new lovers.
Shen Ni let none of her emotion show on her face, but inwardly, she felt as if some small restless rabbit were burrowing its way deep into her heart, rousing a fresh, prickling wave of heat with each movement.
She’d reminded herself over and over again that her shijie was even less capable of passion than those martial artists who followed the Loveless Path. Her shijie had already rejected her feelings all those years ago; there was absolutely no reason for her to seek out the same humiliation again. But now that all those whispers about Bian Jin and Qin Wushang had found their way to her ears, it was difficult for her not to dwell on the possibility that her shijie — that pure, passionless sculpture that had taken root on a pedestal in her heart, that had never even deigned to cast the briefest glance at the pleasures of the flesh — might, at some point, have had her pristine robes stained by the dew of carnal desire.
And if that’s so, why shouldn’t I be the one to get her wet?
Since the moment Bian Jin had rushed towards the Information Services Bureau to protect her — since the moment Bian Jin had cradled her in her arms against the shock of those explosions — the lustful beast that had lain suppressed within Shen Ni’s breast had finally caught a whiff of the scent it had been thirsting for for so long, and the flame of obsession that had been nearly extinguished by the ash of her dead hopes had flared back into life.
No matter how aloof Bian Jin held herself, no matter how silent she was around Shen Ni, no matter how closely she guarded her gaze — when danger came, the first thing she did was to fling herself on top of Shen Ni and hold her tight, heedless of the risk to her own life, as if she couldn’t bear to let any harm come to a single hair on Shen Ni’s head.
Shen Ni found herself flushed with a gambler’s instinct. Now she’d seen proof that Bian Jin’s old tenderness for her still lingered, she was ready to wager everything on the chance that she — older, wiser, and infinitely more cunning — could finally tempt her shijie into stepping down from her unstained pedestal.
She did not, at this point, wish to reflect deeply on whether she was still in love with Bian Jin, or whether this impulse was simply the result of years of pent-up resentment against her shijie. All she wanted to do now was to test the waters.[1]
Bian Jin did not answer her immediately; she gave no sign of either assent or refusal. In the silence that followed, Shen Ni’s heart was pounding like a drum, each beat thumping heavily within her chest.
Then, with a deliberate movement, Bian Jin set the jar of lip-rouge down on the dressing-table.
Shen Ni felt as if her roiling heart had been plunged abruptly into lake of ice-cold water. A sense of suffocation came over her; her lungs felt suddenly airless.
Just as she was beginning to find it difficult to breathe, Bian Jin produced a small jar from her sleeve. It looked very like the one that held Shen Ni’s lip-rouge.
‘How could I possibly use yours? We wear different shades, after all.’
Bian Jin twisted open the lid of her own lip-rouge in a leisurely manner and, without looking at Shen Ni, applied a thin layer of it to her mouth. She had the air of an artist painstakingly putting the final touches on a masterpiece.
Shen Ni had not expected Bian Jin, who so rarely wore makeup, to carry a jar of lip-rouge about with her. There was, indeed, a difference in the two shades. Shen Ni’s was a soft, translucent cherry-pink, while Bian Jin — on the few occasions she used it — preferred the deep, rich crimson that graced her lips now.
For once, Shen Ni felt at a complete loss. Before she could grasp Bian Jin’s intentions, her shijie was already leaning forward, bringing her red lips close to the very same spot as the one Shen Ni had just directed her attentions to on Bian Jin’s own neck.
Shen Ni had only meant to tease her shijie, to provoke some sort of response out of her. Even if it wasn’t the one she wanted, it would at least provide her with some amusement. After all, shijie was decidedly not the sort to engage in playful repartee with her own wife, so the task of ‘providing lighthearted martial banter’ had quite naturally fallen on Shen Ni’s shoulders. She’d simply wanted to see Bian Jin racking her brains for an excuse that would allow her to turn down the little ploy Shen Ni had just proposed. She had not anticipated that her tentative testing of the waters would trigger a veritable tsunami in response. There were none of the quiet excuses she’d been expecting her shijie to offer up — only this sudden physical proximity.
In her astonishment, Shen Ni drew in a short, sharp breath. Instantly, Bian Jin’s scent filled her lungs and spread swiftly through her chest, turning the tips of her ears red-hot. The edge of the sandalwood dressing-table dug into her lower back. Her first thought was that Bian Jin must be simply trying to fluster her, in retaliation for Shen Ni’s own incessant goading. She can’t possibly mean to follow through with this.
The next moment, however, she felt a slight pinch. Bian Jin’s hot lips were on her throat, sucking at her delicate skin.
Perhaps it was because she so rarely did this sort of thing, but the all-powerful Governor-General Bian seemed to have misjudged the angle of her approach. She was leaning so far forward that she seemed in danger of overbalancing.
Thinking that Bian Jin was about to topple over, Shen Ni sat hastily down on the dressing table and placed both hands around her waist to steady her.
In truth, and despite all outward appearances, Bian Jin had perfect control over her equilibrium. As Shen Ni’s arms went around her, she thought for an instant that her shimei was about to draw her into an embrace. That, of course, did not happen, but it was enough to throw off Bian Jin’s finely-tuned balance.
And that was how Bian Jin, who had little experience in the matters of the heart and even less in the matters of the flesh, ended up biting into Shen Ni’s neck.
Thrills of pleasure and faint pinpricks of pain tingled across Shen Ni’s skin, making her throw her head back. She had never before imagined that her shijie’s pure, unsullied lips would one day be roaming so wantonly over such a delicate part of her body.
She grew hotter and hotter under Bian Jin’s ministrations. Then suddenly, she felt Bian Jin’s teeth pierce her skin, and let out a half-formed gasp.
Bian Jin knew then that she’d bitten down too hard, that Shen Ni must have felt some pain. With a practised motion, she wrapped an arm around Shen Ni’s waist, then began running her hand up and down Shen Ni’s back.
In the old days, whenever her little A-Yao was injured, or felt herself hard done by, this was how Bian Jin would comfort her. After just a few gentle strokes, her little A-Yao would be smiling again. Now that she’d bitten down on Shen Ni’s neck without meaning to, Bian Jin moved reflexively to soothe her in the same way. This time, however, her efforts did not bring a smile to Shen Ni’s face — only a sensual flush.
Once she was certain that she’d kept her lips pressed against Shen Ni’s throat for long enough, Bian Jin pulled away abruptly, leaving behind a fresh, vivid red mark.
Everything had happened too quickly for Shen Ni to make sense of it. She stared at Bian Jin, confusion still in her eyes.
Shen Ni’s cheeks, Bian Jin saw, were bright red, and in the mirror, Bian Jin could see that her own colour was equally heightened. But all she said was, ‘Will this do?’
Shen Ni made a sound in response, though she herself could not have said what it was.
‘Mm,’ said Bian Jin, and went on, ‘We might as well give them the full show. Let’s pretend that we’ve been using the box of… toys, as well. I’m going to the bedchamber now. You should wait here for a while, then follow me there.’
Shen Ni said something, but whatever it was, Bian Jin failed completely to take in. Bian Jin did not pause to think over precisely why she was suggesting that the two of them should move to a different room, or why they should make their way there separately. She simply opened the door and strode out into the frosty air. So hurried was her departure that she left her lip-rouge and gloves behind in the workshop.
Outside, a manservant was repairing one of the lamps that lit the walkway, while two maids armed with bamboo brooms were sweeping it clear of snow. After a few weeks of incessant snowstorms, the weather had finally turned, and the servants were glad for the opportunity to warm their half-frozen bodies. When they saw Bian Jin coming towards them, they bowed to her.
Their usually gracious mistress, they all felt, was behaving rather oddly today. She did not respond to their greetings, or even look at them. Instead, she simply swept past them, clutching her cloak around her shoulders, and went straight into the bedchamber she shared with Marquess Jing’an.
The younger of the two maids, who was wearing a red jacket, peered after Bian Jin curiously. ‘What’s happened to her ladyship? Why is her face so red? Is it the wind?’
‘Oh, you sweet, innocent child!’ the older maid exclaimed. ‘You do make me laugh!” Leaning closer, she nudged the girl with her elbow, and her voice dropped to a mysterious whisper. ‘Didn’t you see that her ladyship was just coming out of her lordship’s workshop? The two of them were alone in there for quite some time. Think, what could a married couple possibly be doing in private that would leave them red-faced?’
A look of understanding spread across the little maid’s face. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, clapping both hands to her flushing cheeks.
The two of them huddled together like a pair of sparrows, gossiping in hushed voices.
In a nearby corner of the grounds, a tall, thin maid who was skimming fallen leaves from the surface of a pond looked up. The left side of her face was black metal, with a red prosthetic eye — one of the cheaper models available. The pupil let out a faint whirring noise whenever it contracted or widened. She glanced covertly towards the bedchamber, snapped a series of pictures with her prosthetic eye, and sent them immediately to a certain high-level private account through an encrypted system.
Bian Jin stepped into the bedchamber. She was just about to shut the door behind her when she realised that her hands were completely bare and unprotected. After a pause, she kicked the door to instead. Then she leaned back against it and closed her eyes.
So it wasn’t just Shen Ni’s touch that triggered her extreme sensitivity; it happened when she touched Shen Ni as well. She’d meant only to test that hypothesis, but the experiment had left her completely undone.
It was just a test, she repeated to herself, as if to some military superior demanding an explanation for what she’d done to Shen Ni just now.
She looked out of the window, and her eyes fell on the hot spring in the courtyard behind the bedchamber. Steam was rising from its surface.
Every day, Auntie Wan would instruct the servants to make sure that the hot spring and its surroundings were clean and tidy. Marquess Jing’an kept such irregular hours, often disappearing into her workshop for days at a time, and no one could tell when she would resurface. Although there was a bathing chamber attached to the workshop, it was obviously smaller and more cramped compared to the hot spring. Every time Marquess Jing’an emerged from the workshop after one of her intensive sessions, the first thing she would do was bathe in the hot spring, to take the chill from her skin. Auntie Wan knew that both her master and mistress were fastidious about cleanliness, so she made sure to keep the hot spring in a fit state for their ablutions at any time.
Bian Jin felt uncomfortably sticky. She wanted nothing more than to plunge into the hot water and wash herself clean again. But her shimei would be here in a short while, and if she saw that Bian Jin was freshly bathed, wouldn’t that give her the wrong idea?
Although, in many senses, it would be exactly the right idea…
Bian Jin hesitated. Perhaps I should wait? But her compulsion towards cleanliness got the better of her, crowding all other considerations from her mind. Soon, she was soaking in the hot spring.
Inside the quiet workshop, meanwhile, the only sound was the drumming of Shen Ni’s heart. A cursor flashed like a star on one of the digital screens.
Shen Ni was still staring ahead a little blankly. Her eyes were soft, limpid. She loosened the collar of her robes to make her breathing a little easier.
She’d been deliberately avoiding Bian Jin for the last few days, hoping to tamp down the flames of emotion that surged up within her whenever she was in Bian Jin’s presence. But now, not only did they remain burning merrily, enough oil had been poured on them to turn them into a perfect conflagration.
Shen Ni straightened the dressing-table. Leaning close to mirror, she tilted back her chin and studied the love-bite Bian Jin had given her with avid interest. The centre of it was a deep crimson that verged on purple, surrounded by a ring of lighter red. The mark was small, dainty — as pretty and delicate as her shijie herself.
Reining in her excitement, Shen Ni decided that it was time to make her way to the bedchamber. She’d only taken two steps towards the door, however, before she sat down again. There was an uncomfortably sticky sensation at the juncture of her thighs. She should probably have a soak in the hot spring first, so that she would be all fresh and clean and sweet-smelling when she finally joined her shijie in their bedchamber. Yes, that was a much better idea. Then, if her shijie took it into her head to leave even more traces of intimacy on other parts of her body, she’d be able to do so without any reservations about cleanliness.
She had not expected to find Bian Jin in the hot spring.
Bian Jin heard footsteps approaching through the swirling clouds of steam. She looked over her shoulder, and saw that it was Shen Ni.
Shen Ni had already undressed in the bathing chamber attached to their bedroom, and was wrapped only in a towel against the wintry air. Her bare feet stepped onto the heated rocks around the spring. She was just about to undo the towel when she heard Bian Jin’s voice.
‘Shimei, wait.’
The steam had hidden Bian Jin from view, so Shen Ni had not realised she was there at the other end of the hot spring. Startled by that familiar voice, she stumbled and nearly fell into the water. She managed to catch herself in time — but not before the towel had loosened and slipped past her breasts. The next instant, Shen Ni had snatched it up again and re-wrapped it tightly around herself.
Those snow-fair curves that rarely saw the light of day flashed across Bian Jin’s vision. Shen Ni’s skin was as smooth as cream, as translucent as the finest white jade.
Bian Jin had never seen a woman naked before, and her first glimpse of one was a thing of beauty indeed. A tingling, aching sensation spread over her heart, as if she’d been scratched by a kitten’s tiny claws. What a temptress, she thought, startling herself slightly. She knew that her shimei was all grown up now — she was well aware of the full curves that lay only half-concealed beneath She Ni’s ministerial robes — but this was the first time she’d ever thought of such a word in connection with Shen Ni.
‘It’s been so cold today,’ said Shen Ni rather woodenly, ‘so I thought I’d warm myself up with a hot bath.’
Bian Jin had just been casting about for an excuse to justify her presence here, and she seized upon this gratefully. How clever shimei is, she thought. Out loud, she said, ‘So did I.’
Shen Ni paused for a moment, staring hard at her. You had better be telling the truth, she thought.
‘Then why don’t you finish bathing first, shijie.’
Shen Ni quite liked the idea of joining her in the hot spring, but she feared the embarrassment of sharing a bath might be too much for her bashful shijie. Shijie might very well kick me out mid-bath, she mused. I couldn’t do that to her or to myself.
Even so, as she tucked the towel tightly around herself and turned back towards the bedchamber, she couldn’t help fantasising about her shijie calling out to her to tell her that she’d changed her mind.
But her shijie did not. She even let out a ‘mm’ of assent.
Shen Ni smiled, closing her eyes momentarily. Very well, then.
Before she left the courtyard, she gave Bian Jin a final piece of advice. ‘You should be careful, shijie. Make sure the mark doesn’t get washed away.’
Bian Jin seemed to have fallen into the habit of adopting whatever Shen Ni had said last, as if she found it useful. ‘You too,’ she echoed.
Shen Ni looked back at Bian Jin. Beads of moisture from the steam clung to her shijie’s beautiful face, to her long black hair. She glistened like a freshly-finished painting, as graceful as a poem.
‘That’s quite all right,’ said Shen Ni with a sweetness so disarming that one could almost believe it had been deliberately engineered to melt the heart of any listener. ‘I’m very sure this mark isn’t about to wear off any time soon. And if it ever does, shijie, you can just give me another one.’
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Author’s Note:
Little Fox: Just according to keikaku.
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Footnotes:
- In the original text, 投石问路 (pinyin: tou shi wen lu), literally ‘throw a stone to ask the way’. The chengyu originates from the early wuxia novel The Three Heroes and Five Gallants (三侠五义, pinyin: san xia wu yi), often attributed to the Qing Dynasty storyteller Shi Yukun (石玉昆). It originally describes a martial artist who has infiltrated a stronghold tossing out a pebble into an unmapped area to ascertain the nature of the terrain. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 