them felt happy and open, able to lounge upon the floor in simple pleasure? Months? Years?
"There is more if you want," said Jing-Li, his voice thicker and infinitely tempting. Then with a soft curse, the man leaned forward and abruptly jerked Zhi-Gang's foot forward. Unbalanced, Zhi-Gang half hopped, half stumbled to the bed, then waited in resigned silence as his friend pulled the sliver out of his foot.
"Jing-Li," Zhi-Gang pressed when the procedure was finished. "Where is the opium?"
His friend ignored him, choosing instead to twist sideways and grab another pipe, one that had fallen beside the bed, obviously used by the captain. Some of the powder still smoked at the far end. Zhi-Gang would have snatched the pipe away and smashed it as well, but Jing-Li's nimble fingers twirled it out of reach before he popped the end into his mouth.
"More for me," he said, then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Zhi-Gang felt his hands clench into fists. He could demand the truth. Under normal circumstances, Zhi-Gang could beat his friend in a fight. But what would be the point? Jing-Li had been smoking for at least an hour now. Even half-blind, Zhi-Gang could pin his friend in seconds; but to what end? The opium numbed Jing-Li's sensation to pain. Even a broken bone might not be enough to force Jing-Li to give up the location of his stash.
Fortunately, there were less direct ways of getting what he wanted. And besides, who could blame the man for taking one night's escape from reality? With the Emperor's incarceration, Jing-Li had lost everything—his good friend, his money, even his family. All of that had been abandoned on this flight to the south. At least Zhi-Gang had been poor as a child. He was used to privations and the endless pressure to succeed. Not so the wealthy, titled, and pampered Jing-Li.
With a sigh, Zhi-Gang turned his back on his friend and slipped out of the captain's chamber. He shouldn't have allowed Jing-Li to hide from his enemies as a servant. The Enforcer could have traveled with a friend or companion. Except that Zhi-Gang had never traveled with anyone but his servants, and often not even them. He worked alone, judged and executed the guilty alone. A companion would have been noticed by the Dowager Empress's spies. Jing-Li would have been discovered and killed.
So Jing-Li had become just another servant, while his friend the Enforcer continued searching for opium dealers, this time in Jiangsu. It was all perfectly normal, all perfectly hidden from their enemies. And truthfully, Zhi-Gang enjoyed the companionship. Well, he enjoyed his companion when Jing-Li was sober.
With a vehement curse, Zhi-Gang put on his glasses and began a slow, laborious search of the boat. He would find his friend's stash and he would destroy it. And then Jing-Li would return to the careful, intelligent scholar he once was. Away from temptation, starting in a new life outside of the Peking pleasure palaces, Jing-Li would become the man he was meant to be.
It took hours, but Zhi-Gang discovered the opium stash. It was in Sister Marie's tiny private locker. He should have looked there first, but he hadn't wanted to accept the truth. He had searched the rest of the boat, through the crew quarters and every nook and cranny imaginable. But in the end, he had surrendered to the inevitable.
He pulled out the runner's bag, seeing that it was only half full. Lifting it to his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He smelled the sweet stench of opium, wet hemp from the coarse fabric, and overlaying it all, Sister Marie's unique scent. All hope that she was truly a nun died at that moment. She was a drug-runner and therefore doomed to death.
Moving wearily through the boat, he made his way to the back and the deepest part of the river. He stood at the railing, staring into the black night, but in his mind's eye, he saw Sister Marie. He remembered every moment of their time together, reliving her defiance, her bold sensuality,
"There is more if you want," said Jing-Li, his voice thicker and infinitely tempting. Then with a soft curse, the man leaned forward and abruptly jerked Zhi-Gang's foot forward. Unbalanced, Zhi-Gang half hopped, half stumbled to the bed, then waited in resigned silence as his friend pulled the sliver out of his foot.
"Jing-Li," Zhi-Gang pressed when the procedure was finished. "Where is the opium?"
His friend ignored him, choosing instead to twist sideways and grab another pipe, one that had fallen beside the bed, obviously used by the captain. Some of the powder still smoked at the far end. Zhi-Gang would have snatched the pipe away and smashed it as well, but Jing-Li's nimble fingers twirled it out of reach before he popped the end into his mouth.
"More for me," he said, then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Zhi-Gang felt his hands clench into fists. He could demand the truth. Under normal circumstances, Zhi-Gang could beat his friend in a fight. But what would be the point? Jing-Li had been smoking for at least an hour now. Even half-blind, Zhi-Gang could pin his friend in seconds; but to what end? The opium numbed Jing-Li's sensation to pain. Even a broken bone might not be enough to force Jing-Li to give up the location of his stash.
Fortunately, there were less direct ways of getting what he wanted. And besides, who could blame the man for taking one night's escape from reality? With the Emperor's incarceration, Jing-Li had lost everything—his good friend, his money, even his family. All of that had been abandoned on this flight to the south. At least Zhi-Gang had been poor as a child. He was used to privations and the endless pressure to succeed. Not so the wealthy, titled, and pampered Jing-Li.
With a sigh, Zhi-Gang turned his back on his friend and slipped out of the captain's chamber. He shouldn't have allowed Jing-Li to hide from his enemies as a servant. The Enforcer could have traveled with a friend or companion. Except that Zhi-Gang had never traveled with anyone but his servants, and often not even them. He worked alone, judged and executed the guilty alone. A companion would have been noticed by the Dowager Empress's spies. Jing-Li would have been discovered and killed.
So Jing-Li had become just another servant, while his friend the Enforcer continued searching for opium dealers, this time in Jiangsu. It was all perfectly normal, all perfectly hidden from their enemies. And truthfully, Zhi-Gang enjoyed the companionship. Well, he enjoyed his companion when Jing-Li was sober.
With a vehement curse, Zhi-Gang put on his glasses and began a slow, laborious search of the boat. He would find his friend's stash and he would destroy it. And then Jing-Li would return to the careful, intelligent scholar he once was. Away from temptation, starting in a new life outside of the Peking pleasure palaces, Jing-Li would become the man he was meant to be.
It took hours, but Zhi-Gang discovered the opium stash. It was in Sister Marie's tiny private locker. He should have looked there first, but he hadn't wanted to accept the truth. He had searched the rest of the boat, through the crew quarters and every nook and cranny imaginable. But in the end, he had surrendered to the inevitable.
He pulled out the runner's bag, seeing that it was only half full. Lifting it to his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He smelled the sweet stench of opium, wet hemp from the coarse fabric, and overlaying it all, Sister Marie's unique scent. All hope that she was truly a nun died at that moment. She was a drug-runner and therefore doomed to death.
Moving wearily through the boat, he made his way to the back and the deepest part of the river. He stood at the railing, staring into the black night, but in his mind's eye, he saw Sister Marie. He remembered every moment of their time together, reliving her defiance, her bold sensuality,
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