Burning Tigress (56 page)

with an excerpt from Jade Lee's

Hungry Tigress

The Way of The Tigress

Book Two

Excerpt from

Hungry Tigress

The Way of the Tigress

Book 2

by

Jade Lee

USA Today Bestselling Author

9 January, 1896

Dearest Kang Zou,

Our distance weighs heavily upon me, my brother. The garden is dull, the birds are silent without your voice to wake them. Father reminds me that your studies take diligent care, but I see only that our beautiful family flower is incomplete without all its petals.

Have you attained Heaven yet? Can you return for the New Year's celebration? My poetry is ever dull without your help.

Your devoted sister,

Wen Ji

~

Decoded translation:

My son, you have been gone a long time without word, and powerful people have begun to ask me for a report. Our family's fortunes depend upon your success. Have you found the conspirators yet? Report immediately. Resolve this matter by the end of January and our family success is assured.

Your father,

General Kang

17 January, 1896

Dearest Wen Ji,

Alas, I cannot aid your poetry this day. Only constancy of purpose achieves the impossible, and my studies take much attention. The temple has a beautiful garden here, and whenever I gaze upon the plum flower, I think of you. But do not despair. Soon Father will choose a bridegroom for you and another flower will blossom in your heart.

Your brother,

Kang Zou

~

Decoded translation:

Apologies for the delay in report. I work day and night searching for the conspirators, but they are canny and difficult to locate. Do not hope for a resolution by New Year. Perhaps there is another means to restore our family's honor?

Your son,

Zou Tun

Pursuing knowledge serves only to increase our desires, thus creating hypocrisy and causing frustration. Pursuing the Tao eliminates intellectualizing and decreases desires. On the inside you will be pure and empty, and on the outside you will naturally adhere to nonaction and not engage in worldly affairs.

—Lao Tzu

Chapter 1

17 January, 1898

No. No, no. No, no.

The word echoed in Joanna Crane's mind, the sound keeping beat with her mare's hooves. She knew she was being ridiculous; one could not outrun a parental edict. And yet here she was on an open road outside of Shanghai, running her poor horse into the ground.

No, Joanna was not escaping to join the Chinese rebel army. Because that would be silly and dangerous, even if those men were fighting for their freedom from an oppressive government. Just like her American forefathers, they were gambling their lives on a great and noble task, and she would love to fight alongside them.

But, no. She couldn't do that, even though she had the means of their support—both monetary and in the literature of great American thinkers. She could even translate it into Chinese for them without too much risk to herself. In fact, she'd already started. She had her first scroll of Benjamin Franklin's writings already translated. Or paraphrased. She could do that, couldn't she?

No.

Why? Because her father forbade it. Because he had discovered what she was doing and confiscated her books. Because no man wanted to marry someone who read Benjamin Franklin.

Very well, she'd responded. She would marry. But whom? Not the handsome George Higgensam, an idiotic youth with more money than brains. Not young Miller nor old Smythee nor even pockmarked Stephens. Not any of the young gentlemen who had offered proposals over the last few years.

And why? Because her father had refused for her. Hadn't even asked her.

True, she had no wish to marry the men, but frankly she had no wish for her father to summarily dismiss them either. Especially without consulting her.

Didn't he see that she was wasting away? That without a husband or children to occupy her time, she was useless? Without a purpose or a cause to call her own, she was nothing but a pretty shell with nothing inside. Didn't he see that?

No. No one saw that but Joanna and her mare, Octavia, whom she was now riding without heed or focus. Which only proved what her mother had feared ten years ago: Shanghai made whites go mad.

It was no doubt proof of Joanna's staunch constitution that it had taken a decade for her mind to unbalance, but her reprieve was over. Obviously she was insane.

As if in agreement, poor Octavia—her eighth mare since coming to China—chose that moment to misstep. Joanna's mind was snatched away from her other problems as the horse's head dropped down to the dirt, jerking her nearly out of her saddle. As it was, Joanna banged her forehead upon her poor mare's neck, then had to fight to keep her seat while Octavia stumbled on an obviously injured leg.