The Dragon and the Pearl

Chapter Fourteen



Li Tao took a moment to smooth out the folds of his tunic and straighten his sleeves with two sharp tugs before pulling his chamber door open. The unexpected presence of someone in the hallway elevated him to heightened awareness. He reached for the sleeve sword a moment before recognising Suyin’s silhouette in the dim corridor.

‘I had to rise especially early to catch you,’ she said, oblivious of any danger. ‘You usually leave before dawn.’

She wore a simple, unadorned blue-grey robe, and her hair had been pulled up into a loose knot. Her mouth remained soft and unpainted. She stood before him with a fresh openness that made her seem almost youthful. He wanted to draw her back into his chamber.

‘I have given some thought into what you should give me—as my gift,’ she added brightly.

‘Your gift?’ There had been no talk of anything of the sort.

‘I want you to give me a day,’ she continued. ‘Today, actually.’

He folded his arms over his chest, in no mood to be charmed. ‘They’ll say I’ve been bewitched like the August Emperor, that I’ve forgotten all duty in my unnatural obsession with you.’

Her frown was immediate. ‘What do you care about rumours?’

‘Suyin.’ He pinched at the spot between his eyes, willing the perpetual ache that had settled there to go away. ‘Do you understand what is happening around us?’

‘Of course I do. You’ll be no match for Gao if you drive yourself to exhaustion.’

Thoughts of tactics and fortifications slipped from his mind as she pressed close to his side. The scent of jasmine and morning dew settled over him. If not for that baffling quarrel, he would have woken to her. They would have woken up to each other, but now he had to go.

‘We should see each other in the daylight,’ she coaxed. ‘Not only in darkness like thieves.’

‘Interesting way to say it.’

She curved her arm around his and urged him towards the courtyard, the look in her eyes unguarded and eager. He allowed himself to be led to the pavilion in the centre of the garden. The household lay in the last dregs of sleep before sunrise. He settled on to the bench and glanced up at her. Her skin shone with a pale brightness in the early morning. The crisp air brought a tinge of pink to her cheeks.

‘I’ll have tea prepared. Wait here.’

He watched her float to the kitchen, enjoying the infectious energy in her step. Her clear voice chimed from within and he imagined Cook’s gruff reply. No one could resist Ling Suyin when she wanted her way.

She returned to sit across from him, folding her hands before her contentedly. For the moment, they sat regarding one another in the daylight, as she’d requested.

The excitement threatened to burst from her. ‘I don’t wish to be indoors at all today. We should see the bamboo forest, as much of it as possible.’

‘I can’t stay long,’ he told her.

She went on regardless. ‘Auntie tells me there are temples on the cliffs. And black-and-white xióng mo in the shade of the mountainside, feeding on the bamboo shoots.’

‘They’re very reclusive.’

‘Like you.’

Her eyes sparkled as she teased him. Why this pleasantness now, when she couldn’t stand the sight of him the night before? It would have made him wary, but he was too exhausted to be wary. At least of Suyin.

Cook brought the tray out to them himself, setting a plate of steamed buns on to the table. The old man arranged the cups and poured the tea, then nodded to them before shuffling back to his beloved kitchen.

She sipped at her tea while he watched, transfixed. There was always an effortless grace about her, especially in the most mundane of tasks.

‘Auntie tells me this emerald tea is from Zhejiang. Good for increasing your energy and clearing your head.’

He lifted the cup and drank, barely tasting the steaming liquid. His head was anything but clear that morning. Suyin glanced at him over the rim of her cup and his chest clenched, a needle of pleasure piercing through.

‘Every time I look at you, I discover something new to catch my attention,’ he said.

No doubt she was accustomed to being scrutinised, so he was surprised when she blushed with pleasure. Her hands fluttered nervously as she pushed the dish of steamed buns closer to him.

‘Please, eat.’

He picked at the bread, taking deliberate bites and chewing. She ate across from him in silence, her movements small and bird-like.

‘You never share any meals with anyone,’ she said. ‘It’s quite disturbing. I even once considered that I had made a bargain with a demon lover, like at the costume opera.’

The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘You have an imagination.’

‘But you are a man after all and not a demon.’

‘We can share an occasional meal together, if you wish.’

He was content to sit back and let her fill the conversation with inane chatter. It gave him a momentary reprieve from thoughts of fortifications and the positioning of the troops along the Long River.

‘You’re thinking of what you would usually be doing right now,’ she ventured. ‘Riding out and seeing to your domain.’

‘Yes.’

Her pleasant smile never wavered. ‘You’d rather be doing that. This idleness is torturing you.’

He didn’t answer. ‘What did you want to discuss last night?’ he deflected.

‘Later, later. We have all day, do we not?’

Her form of persuasion was gently insistent. It disturbed him how much he wanted to indulge her. It lightened his spirit to see her smiling. Happiness was one emotion Suyin couldn’t fabricate effectively, no matter how practised she was.

‘Let us go before the sun is high.’ She came to take his arm again as they stood, as if he’d escape if she didn’t hold on to him. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she looked up, her impulsive energy almost child-like.

Reports indicated Gao had sent an envoy of five thousand men. Shen at least an equal number, perhaps greater. A bit more than one would expect for a peaceful diplomatic visit. They were only two weeks’ march away.

He found himself nodding, conceding to her. All Suyin wanted was a day and they had few left between them.



The footpath cut deep into the bamboo grove, the air surrounding them damp and cool in the shade. Li Tao remained characteristically taciturn beside her. Every stone tormented her feet through the thin soles of her slippers, but she didn’t want to complain. The path began to climb upwards and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked for so long without stopping.

‘Are we going far?’ she asked mildly.

Li Tao looked back to where she had stopped. ‘Do you need to rest?’

‘A little while.’

Despite the coolness of the forest, she dabbed the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. The bamboo stalks climbed upwards until they disappeared to a point in the sky. Sunlight only pierced the forest in tiny pockets. The endless green was making her dizzy.

He came back to her side. ‘I can carry you.’

She cast him a slanted look. ‘You’re leading me this way to torment me.’

The slight smile he gave was barely an answer, but he slowed his pace when they resumed walking. She took his arm again and this time his fingers curled around hers. Her chest shouldn’t swell with happiness like it did, having him walk beside her as they spoke of nothing. In these moments, she almost glimpsed what it would be to sink comfortably into a life together. To be old and grey like Auntie and strolling through the garden on Li Tao’s arm. To hear the laughter of grandchildren.

Whose dream had she borrowed? It couldn’t have been her own.

They emerged on to a plateau overlooking the valley and the breath rushed out of her. The bamboo forest shimmered below, stretching outwards to touch the edge of the sky in the distance. The wind stirred the fronds in gentle waves. The slight rustle even sounded like water.

‘A person almost could forget their sorrows here,’ she murmured.

Li Tao came to stand beside her and, for the moment, they were the only people on earth beneath the sun and the clouds. She wished desperately for him to put his arms around her, but he kept his hands clasped behind him as he looked meditatively over the emerald sea. He was always so controlled. Only in the bedchamber did his restraint begin to crumble. His eyes would grow dark when he moved within her, falling closed only when the pleasure took them both. Her skin flushed so hot that she feared he could sense it through the space between them.

‘What is that?’ She pointed across the valley. A man-made structure interrupted the natural contour of the mountainside, partially hidden by the forest green.

‘Observant,’ he said with a note of admiration. ‘There are watchtowers all along the cliffs. Guard houses, stockades.’

A numbness crept into her fingers. He revealed the information without reservation, without care. As if she were too insignificant to be a threat, or he no longer needed to hide his intentions. It certainly couldn’t be that he trusted her. He presented a striking profile, his gaze fixed impassively on the distant cliffs. She searched the line of the ridge for the fortifications he spoke of.

‘How many men do you command?’ The words scratched against her throat.

He looked directly at her until she squirmed beneath his scrutiny. ‘Old Gao has likely convinced the Emperor that I’ve raised an army of hundreds of thousands to oppose him.’

‘But you have been building an army.’

When he didn’t answer, she pushed on. ‘You can’t win like this.’

‘I’m not so easy to kill, Lady Ling.’

‘This is what Gao wants. On his terms.’

‘Enough. This is not your battle.’

In other words, this was not her place. Li Tao wouldn’t listen. He was a man of action, not words, and considered himself accountable to no one. In that way, he and Gao were very much alike. Her stomach sank with despair.

The more Li Tao built up his defences and withdrew from imperial scrutiny, the more his actions would incriminate him. All her knowledge meant nothing. Li Tao would never let her in.

‘If you’re so bent on war, why did you ask me to stay?’ she asked in desperation.

‘I wanted the nights.’ His voice strained to near the breaking point. ‘I wanted those hours with you.’

It was a generous admission from him—for Li Tao to admit he wanted anything—but she found no consolation there.

‘A diversion,’ she said bitterly. ‘But now it’s done.’

He caught her shoulders as she tried to go. ‘It was a mistake to keep you here.’

A mistake. The pain bit deep before she could shield herself against it. She knew it was true, which made the pain worse. Someone had manipulated Li Tao to retrieve her. They were being compelled by unseen forces.

She twisted out of his grasp and moved back to the ridge to stare out over the bamboo sea, trying to recapture the sense of peace she’d had moments earlier.

‘This is all we can have, Suyin.’

His words were a hollow echo of what he’d told her last night. There could be no more. She wasn’t ready to accept it.

‘It’s always like this. First the August Emperor, and now you. Men only desire my company when the threat of death hangs over them.’

Li Tao came close enough for her to sense the heat from his body, so warm in contrast to the coolness of the forest. His arm closed around her waist, the other one about her shoulders to hold her against his chest, fitting her back. With a sigh, she sank against him and let his presence envelop her. He never embraced her in daylight, she realised.

‘I see your face in front of me every moment of the day. I think of your skin, your voice, the way you taste.’ His lips brushed against her hair. He held her even tighter. ‘But this was always meant to end. It has to.’

She squeezed her eyes shut at the last part. She’d known his lover’s words wouldn’t be allowed to stand untouched. There was always bitterness to follow. He was convinced that they could not be, and Li Tao never backed down from his convictions.

He turned her in his arms so they could finally face each other. Without another word, he took her mouth with a kiss that only filled her with more longing, more doubt. His fingers curved over her hip possessively. She clutched at his robe and dragged him closer, as if he could be any closer. When they broke apart, he still wouldn’t let go.

‘You say these words. You insist on these things, but then you—’ She struggled for words. ‘There has to be a way.’

He rested his forehead against hers. The way he held her could be so deceptively tender. She still couldn’t catch her breath and she didn’t want to. She knew now, more than ever, that she couldn’t lose him.

He kissed her again; this time his touch was rough and impatient. ‘These men are more experienced than I at the art of war. At every step, I sense I’m making the wrong move, falling deeper into someone’s plans.’

This was how she had felt in the palace, always fighting against the hold of powerful men and feeling that there was nothing she could do to be free of them. She’d felt that way with Gao and his minions. In a way, even Emperor Li Ming had imprisoned her to his will.

‘You don’t want to be a part of this,’ he said.

‘But I’m already a part of this.’

‘No.’ A single word. It rang as a final declaration. He ran a possessive hand along her spine. ‘This was not part of our arrangement. I can’t have you here.’

His black eyes claimed her completely even as he denied her. She cradled his face in her hands, running her fingers over the rigid line of his jaw, waiting for him to turn away, but he didn’t. Though Li Tao would never admit it, she still had some hold over this indomitable man. For once, she didn’t want to use this power for her own gain. She only wanted to find some way to help him. It wasn’t enough for her to merely survive, to simply exist any longer.

Again she caught the phantom of a dream. The two of them, many years later, walking together. Li Tao was still tall and majestic beside her. His shoulders only bowed slightly with time, his hair grey. He had spoken once, and only briefly, of family, of a future. A legacy. She wished with all her heart those were things she could tempt him with.

‘Perhaps the solution is beyond what you and I can accomplish alone,’ she ventured.

He frowned at her, not comprehending. She was only starting to form the idea herself.

‘What if you went directly to Shen? He doesn’t want civil war. Humble yourself before him.’ She knew nothing about battles and armies, but she knew men like Li Ming and Emperor Shen held themselves to a higher moral standard. ‘Appear before Shen without your army, one man to another. Lay your sword at his feet and tell him that everything you do is for the sake of the empire.’

‘Like a dog baring his throat for slaughter,’ he scoffed.

‘A grand gesture,’ she argued.

‘It’s suicide.’

He let go of her abruptly, distancing himself from her as well as her counsel. His stark silhouette against the bamboo spoke of isolation and solitude. This was why Gao targeted him, the same reason the crafty governor had been able to use her while she was in the palace.

Li Tao was alone. He had no allies.

She wished she knew what he was thinking, but he had closed himself off. When he turned to tell her that they needed to go back, she had no argument. Suyin walked silently beside him down the trail. Around them, the forest chirped and clacked with life. Li Tao didn’t look at her. He only barely slowed his stride to accommodate her smaller steps. She searched for something to say that wouldn’t reveal her desolation.

He probably thought her mad to suggest he make himself vulnerable to his enemies, or perhaps he was finally convinced she was there to lure him to his death. She had no place preaching honour and sacrifice when she’d done unspeakable things for her own protection in the past. Experience had taught her what she needed to do to survive. That was all she had ever known, but she wanted more now. Even if it wasn’t possible, she wanted.



Suyin didn’t bother him for the rest of the day. To his surprise, she excused herself when they reached the manor. Li Tao returned to his study to wait for more reports. The battle lines were forming, the supply lines were ready. He called for his messengers and issued commands, but it was nothing more than moving pieces aimlessly on the board from one position to another.

War was coming upon him, fast and winding like a viper, but he wasn’t afraid of death. He had bartered away his life long ago when the first knife had been thrust into his hands. As he watched Suyin disappear into the recesses of the house, he wondered what else he had given up.

Suyin continued to haunt him. She was so close. He could go to her at any moment, if he so desired. He stayed shut away on purpose, trying to work while he dreamed of her mouth exploring his skin. His hands fit around her waist so easily. He would lift her on to him. Watch her face as she sank on to him. Over him. It had only been one night without her in his bed. One long, empty night.



It was night once again when he finally extinguished the lanterns to return to his empty chamber. The bedroom door opened only moments after he had shut it. When Suyin stepped into the room, he was flooded with a feeling that bordered on gratitude.

By then, his hunger raged inside him and she looked so magnificent that he wanted to take her, hard against the floorboards as they’d done the first time. Holding back nothing. But she stood with hands clasped, her eyes full of questions.

He led her to the bed and let her hair down, running his fingers through the black silk. With reverent hands, he slid her dress from her shoulders, kissing each spot of smooth skin as it was revealed. Outwardly, he remained gentle. Inwardly, he wanted to devour her.

‘You truly can lure a man to his ruin.’ He let her hands roam over his shoulders. ‘Seduce him into forgetfulness.’

‘But that wasn’t me,’ she protested. ‘It was all lies.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

So many poems and paintings centred on Ling Suyin. None of them captured her essence. She could seduce men to madness without ever wielding her body. He brushed his lips over her eyelids, her cheek, and finally found her mouth. For a long, drawn sigh they did nothing but kiss. Her lips parted for him beautifully, allowing him to taste her, to take his fill. The questions were still there, unspoken. She’d withdrawn from him since their morning together. He could sense it in her hesitation now.

She wanted to know if this was the last time.

He had no answer. He stroked the graceful arch of her neck and trailed downwards to run his fingertip over the swell of her nipple. Her flesh peaked beneath his touch. Rewarding him with her response. He lowered her on to the bed, his arousal straining against his trousers.

‘I’ll go with you,’ she offered.

He couldn’t understand her meaning. The blood pulsed hot within him.

‘To Emperor Shen,’ she continued. ‘We’ll go together.’

‘You’ll stand by a traitor?’ he asked harshly. ‘That’s senseless.’

She shook her head in vehement denial. Her arms curved around his shoulders to hold on to him and her soft breasts pressed against his chest. She was offering to put herself at risk. For him. He couldn’t understand why, didn’t want to think of what it meant. Not yet. He reached for the ties at his waist.

‘This is my burden. There’s nothing for you to do.’

Her lips found his throat and she tightened her arms around him. ‘Please, Tao.’

She needed to stop speaking, to stop thinking of what came next. He could make her forget. A few strokes of his fingers against the tender cleft of her sex and she was ready for him. He slid himself into her, welcoming the arch of her body and the sweet sigh of surrender and acceptance he’d come to know so well.

Suyin closed her eyes at his penetration. When she tried to speak he kissed her hard, moving into her until all she could do was moan. He shut his eyes to listen to her impassioned cries and concentrated on the sweet, wet clasp of her body until he was consumed within it.