bowed her head quickly, frightened by the look in Fei Yen’s eyes.
‘Well? Admit it!’
‘It is true, my lady...’ she began, meaning to explain, but Fei Yen’s slap sent her sprawling back on to the couch. She sat, looking up at Fei Yen, her eyes wide with shock. Sweet Rose was sobbing now, her whole frame shaking.
Fei Yen’s voice hissed at her menacingly. ‘Get out... All of you ...
Get out!
’
Pearl Heart struggled up, then stumbled forward, taking her sister’s arm as she went, almost dragging her from the room, her own tears flowing freely now, her sense of shame unbearable. Li Yuan ... How her heart ached to see him now; to have him hold her and comfort her. But it was gone. Gone forever. And nothing but darkness lay ahead.
Back in her rooms, Fei Yen stood there, looking about her sightlessly, the blackness lodged in her head. For a while she raged, inarticulate in her grief, rushing about the room uncontrollably, smashing and breaking, the pent-up anger pouring out of her in grunting, shrieking torrents. Then she calmed and sat on the edge of the huge bed, her respiration normalizing, her pulse slowing. Again she looked about her, this time with eyes that moved, surprised, between the broken shapes that lay littered about the room.
She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him badly, just as he had hurt her. But a part of her knew that was not the way. She must be magnanimous. She must swallow her hurt and pay him back with loving kindness. Her revenge would be to enslave him. To make him need her more than he needed anything in the whole of Chung Kuo. More than life itself.
She shuddered then gritted her teeth, forcing down the pain she felt. She would be strong. As she’d been when Han had died. She would deny her feelings and will herself to happiness. For the sake of her sons.
She went to the mirror, studying herself. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffed from crying. She turned and looked about her, suddenly angered by the mess she had made – by her momentary lapse of control. But it was nothing she could not set right. Quickly she went into the next room, returning a moment later with a small linen basket. Then, on her hands and knees, she worked her way methodically across the floor, picking up every last piece of broken pottery or glass she could find. It took her much longer than she had thought, but it served another purpose. By the time she had finished she had it clearly in her mind what she must do.
She took the basket back into the dressing room and threw a cloth over it, then began to undress, bundling her discarded clothes into the bottom of one of the huge built-in cupboards that lined the walls. Then, naked, she went through and began to fill the huge, sunken bath.
She had decided against the new silks. Had decided to keep it as simple as she could. A single vermilion robe. The robe she had worn that first morning, after they had wed.
While the water steamed from the taps, she busied herself at the long table beneath the bathroom mirror, lifting the lids from the various jars and sniffing at them until she found the one she was searching for. Yes... She would wear nothing but this. His favourite.
Mei
hua.
Plum blossom.
She looked at her reflection in the wall-length mirror, lifting her chin. Her eyes were less red than they’d been, her skin less blotchy. She smiled, hesitantly at first then more confidently. It had been foolishness to be so jealous. She was the match of a thousand serving girls.
She nodded to her image, determined, her hands smoothing her flanks, moving slowly upward until they cupped and held her breasts, her nipples rising until they stood out rigidly. She would bewitch him, until he had eyes for nothing but her. She remembered how he had looked at her – awed, his eyes round in his face – and laughed, imagining it. He would be hers. Totally, utterly hers.
Even so, she would have her vengeance on the girls. And on that pimp, Nan Ho. For the hurt they had caused
‘Well? Admit it!’
‘It is true, my lady...’ she began, meaning to explain, but Fei Yen’s slap sent her sprawling back on to the couch. She sat, looking up at Fei Yen, her eyes wide with shock. Sweet Rose was sobbing now, her whole frame shaking.
Fei Yen’s voice hissed at her menacingly. ‘Get out... All of you ...
Get out!
’
Pearl Heart struggled up, then stumbled forward, taking her sister’s arm as she went, almost dragging her from the room, her own tears flowing freely now, her sense of shame unbearable. Li Yuan ... How her heart ached to see him now; to have him hold her and comfort her. But it was gone. Gone forever. And nothing but darkness lay ahead.
Back in her rooms, Fei Yen stood there, looking about her sightlessly, the blackness lodged in her head. For a while she raged, inarticulate in her grief, rushing about the room uncontrollably, smashing and breaking, the pent-up anger pouring out of her in grunting, shrieking torrents. Then she calmed and sat on the edge of the huge bed, her respiration normalizing, her pulse slowing. Again she looked about her, this time with eyes that moved, surprised, between the broken shapes that lay littered about the room.
She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him badly, just as he had hurt her. But a part of her knew that was not the way. She must be magnanimous. She must swallow her hurt and pay him back with loving kindness. Her revenge would be to enslave him. To make him need her more than he needed anything in the whole of Chung Kuo. More than life itself.
She shuddered then gritted her teeth, forcing down the pain she felt. She would be strong. As she’d been when Han had died. She would deny her feelings and will herself to happiness. For the sake of her sons.
She went to the mirror, studying herself. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffed from crying. She turned and looked about her, suddenly angered by the mess she had made – by her momentary lapse of control. But it was nothing she could not set right. Quickly she went into the next room, returning a moment later with a small linen basket. Then, on her hands and knees, she worked her way methodically across the floor, picking up every last piece of broken pottery or glass she could find. It took her much longer than she had thought, but it served another purpose. By the time she had finished she had it clearly in her mind what she must do.
She took the basket back into the dressing room and threw a cloth over it, then began to undress, bundling her discarded clothes into the bottom of one of the huge built-in cupboards that lined the walls. Then, naked, she went through and began to fill the huge, sunken bath.
She had decided against the new silks. Had decided to keep it as simple as she could. A single vermilion robe. The robe she had worn that first morning, after they had wed.
While the water steamed from the taps, she busied herself at the long table beneath the bathroom mirror, lifting the lids from the various jars and sniffing at them until she found the one she was searching for. Yes... She would wear nothing but this. His favourite.
Mei
hua.
Plum blossom.
She looked at her reflection in the wall-length mirror, lifting her chin. Her eyes were less red than they’d been, her skin less blotchy. She smiled, hesitantly at first then more confidently. It had been foolishness to be so jealous. She was the match of a thousand serving girls.
She nodded to her image, determined, her hands smoothing her flanks, moving slowly upward until they cupped and held her breasts, her nipples rising until they stood out rigidly. She would bewitch him, until he had eyes for nothing but her. She remembered how he had looked at her – awed, his eyes round in his face – and laughed, imagining it. He would be hers. Totally, utterly hers.
Even so, she would have her vengeance on the girls. And on that pimp, Nan Ho. For the hurt they had caused
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