可望而不可即
kě wàng ér bùkě jí
Can see but can not approach.
Within sight but beyond reach-unattainable.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The Garden District was awake and bustling, despite the heat.
Everything within the pleasure district was lit by glowing lanterns, that cast all beneath them into shades of red and gold. The press of humanity was everywhere. Almost all of the crowd was male, old men with a guilty look escaping their wives, young men in packs calling out to the pretty girls in windows like wolves. There were rich men, and when their carriages stopped before the pleasure houses, flocks of flowers flowed from the gates to greet them. And there were poor men, who wandered and looked, but didn't touch, what they wanted in sight but out of reach.
Of the girls themselves there was little variation. Most were young, pretty, made up and dressed up to resemble dolls, all so similar that it was hard to tell one apart from the other. Zakhar knew it was because most men liked the lack of individuality. They want to see the women they paid for as objects, not people.
A few brothels and their inhabitants did stand out. One establishment, The Fabulous Whatever, boasted all mu'ren girls. Another, The Eight Distinguished Phoenixes, consisted of older, more matronly women, which judging from the line of men outside was surprisingly popular. A third brothel, The Dueling Flames, was filled with men, some bare chested and muscular, some dressed in silks and painted as pretty as any lady.
The buildings themselves were as painted and dressed like their inhabitants. Besides the elegantly carved and painted signboards, strings of lanterns were hung along the front of the buildings, illuminating walls brightly painted in reds and greens and blues, and accented in golds.
Through the courtyard gates, one could catch glimpses of even more enchanted fairytale like lands. Contrived gardens, filled with plants and trees and small flowing rivers, waited for patrons to explore. Over the rivers small bridges arched, and in secluded locations tiny gazebos were placed, perfect for quiet encounters with customers.
At last, after passing by many other brothels in the Garden District, the three men reached Tianshi Sheng and stopped outside. Ao stopped beside them.
"Is this the one you frequent?" she asked, surveying the building, which, though well maintained, did look rather drab in comparison with its gawdy neighbors. "I'm surprised, I expected something more... princely."
"I try to be discreet," said Sanli. Ao snorted.
"I have friends here," said Zakhar defensively, immediately wishing he hadn't.
"I'm sure you do," said Ao over her shoulder as she walked through the gateway.
Zakhar followed, flinching as a chorus of voices greeted him. "Welcome Zakhar!" "It's Zakhar, someone fetch Mei!" "Welcome back, Lord Zakhar."
Ao smirked at him. Zakhar's face flushed.
Mei approached them. She was a tall, well built woman, heavier than most of the other girls. The curves of her body were plain in her tight orange and red silk gown. Her dark hair was piled on her head in coils, held loosely in place with an assortment of bejeweled pins.
"Good evening, my lords. What can we of Tianshi Sheng do for you this evening?" asked Mei, eyes flicking from one man to the other before landing and staying on Ao.
"I'll be by the kitchen. Don't let me keep you all from your sinful delights," said Kageyama, walking past Mei toward a door in the back of the courtyard as thought the brothel were his own home. "Tell Ying I'm waiting for a game. I'd like a rematch after she so soundly beat me last time."
Ao's eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Rematch? Where is he going?"
Mei turned her attention to Ao, who was still dressed as a boy. "How can we of Tianshi Sheng be of service to you tonight, Lord....?"
"Yun," replied Ao, giving the false name easily. "I'm looking for one of your girls who's good with her thumbs."
Zakhar swallowed. Ao looked at him, a bemused expression on her face. "A massage. I'm in search of a massage."
Zakhar sighed in relief, though he wasn't sure why.
"Certainly. All our girls are very skilled." Mei gestured and two of the girls stepped forward. "If it pleases my Lord Yun, follow these two. They will take care of you."
Ao followed after the two flowers as they made their way off to an adjoining room. Although dressed like a boy, there was a sway to her step that was distinctly feminine. Before disappearing through a doorway, Ao looked back, caught Zakhar's eye, and winked.
Zakhar scrubbed his hand across his brow and then looked to his side, but Sanli had already seated himself in the center of a group of flowers and their patrons gathered around a low table playing cards. The prince signaled to be dealt into the game, much to the consternation of the men and the delight of the flowers.
Mei looked at Sanli, then sighed. She turned back to Zakhar. "Do you want to go upstairs?"
Zakhar thought of Ao's wink. "Fine."
Mei turned and led him across the courtyard, between busy tables crowded with laughing and joking women and men, sat in various intimate positions. On every surface cups were crowded. Mei had said once that wine was the biggest source of revenue for the brothel, much more so than the services provided by the girls.
He also knew, from experience, that the flowers used the wine to their advantage. A drunk man who could hardly stand was much easier to manipulate than a sober one.
Zakhar followed Mei up the familiar staircase of worn wood to the second floor. Briefly, he glanced back down at the courtyard. Sanli had just won the last hand of cards with a perfect combination, causing the girls to squeal in excitement, and many of the men present to throw down their cards in disgust. Kageyama sat at a small table off to one side, by the doors to the kitchen, staring down at worn wooden go board. As Zakhar watched, little Ying snuck out of the kitchen and sat opposite the kitsune to begin their game.
Smiling wryly, Zakhar followed Mei into her room.
It looked exactly as it had weeks before, when he had last been there. Zakhar barely glanced around at the familiar furnishings. He stopped before the window, which looked out at the busy street below, and perched on the wide sill.
"We were wondering when you all would be back," said Mei behind him. Zakhar heard her move about the room, tidying up from the previous patron. There was the sound of a match being struck, and then the musk of incense wafted through the air, erasing the smells of sex and sweat that lingered throughout the brothel, throughout the whole of the pleasure district.
"It's been an eventful summer," said Zakhar absently, still staring at the street below. A thin line of blue incense smoke wafted past him and out the open window, melting away into the night air.
"You know what the girls call you? The Sad Men," said Mei.
"Sad? Why?" Zakhar asked, laughing.
"Lord Kageyama has had his heart broken too far apart to mend. The pieces are scattered every which way. It's a wonder he's able to feel at all," said Mei, her voice coming closer until she stopped at the window just behind Zakhar. "And the prince has his own secret sorrows."
Zakhar snorted. "I don't know what makes you think that. Sanli's always bloody smiling."
"Some smile the most when they are sad."
"You see all that so clearly, huh?" said Zakhar, idly reaching a hand forward to grasp at the line of smoke flowing past him out the window. It scattered before he could grasp it, as smoke does. He gave up, leaning forward on the sill to search out distant stars.
"I do. And you, my dear, you are in love."
Zakhar chuckled with as much disdain as he could muster. "Love, huh? You know this with your woman's intuition you always boast about?"
"Simple observation. You have a naked woman in front of you, and yet you are staring at the stars."
Zakhar turned. While they had been talking, Mei had indeed removed all of her ornate clothing, a process he usually relished watching. He reached out and gently laid a hand on her bare hip.
"And who do you figure I'm in love with?"
"Again, simple observation. You had your pick of beautiful flowers tonight, but until he left you only had eyes for that scrawny stick of a boy. Yun. Who isn't fooling anyone. We all knew he is a she." Mei took Zakhar's hand and guided it up the curves of her body. "I'm surprised though. She isn't your usual type."
Zakhar chuckled. "You really are the most observant profession, aren't you?" He studied her face. Mei was older than most of the women of Tianshi Sheng, yet still beautiful, with pale, smooth skin like marble. Her beauty had one flaw, crows feet, about her eyes, that spoke of age or worry. Or perhaps too much laughter. Somehow Zakhar doubted the latter.
Mei smiled, pushing painted red lips together. "It's our job. To watch, to learn, the secrets of your heart. Those deep dark desires you cannot show." As she spoke, Mei took his hand and pulled him up from the sill, then led him across the room to the bed.
She sank down onto the silk sheets, pulling Zakhar down with her. "I will let you call me by her name tonight, if you like."
"I like your name just fine, Mei."
"Haha, you know that is not my real name." Mei lay a hand aside of his head, turning his face toward her own. "You've been good to many girls down here in this flower patch, so trust what I'm about to tell you. These words are not meant to hurt. They're for a friend, not a customer, these words." Zakhar's eye fixed on Mei's face as she spoke. "That girl is not looking for love."
It was something he already knew. Zakhar laughed once, bitterly. "Hah, more women's intuition?"
"No, this is a whore's intuition. Much more accurate than a woman's." As if to soften her words, Mei leaned forward and kissed Zakhar gently on the brow, before moving to his lips.
The kiss lasted for a moment, then they broke apart so Mei could pull off his shirt. She threw it to the ground, then kissed down Zakhar's broad chest, following the lines of his tattoos, before stopping and pulling back.
Mei frowned at his chest. "Did you get more, of these markings?" she asked.
"No," said Zakhar quickly.
"Funny. I thought there were less of them on your chest." She ran her fingers over Zakhar's skin, tracing the swirls and lines of the patterns inked there.
Zakhar caught her hand. "I'll leave my shirt on, if they bother you."
Mei laughed, pulling her hand away to gently tug at his beard. "You know they don't."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Hours later, Zakhar woke again, around the Ox hour, as he had done weeks before. Except for this time, something had woken him.
A distant voice shouted in the courtyard. Zakhar rose from the bed and pulled on his scattered clothing. Mei, who had been asleep beside him, roused.
"What is it?" She asked groggily. Seeing Zakhar pulling on his clothes, she followed suit.
Zakhar did not respond, but quickened his dressing. His skin burned hot and cold, his tattoos subtly changing, into variations and patterns whose message only he could see or understand.
Somewhere, close by, violence was occurring.
Buttoning the last button on his shirt, Zakhar made for the door. He stopped on the balcony, looking down at the courtyard below. Mei followed and stopped beside him.
At one of the low tables surrounded by chairs and low sofas, a group of flowers sat gathered in a circle. Several had removed their make-up, and a relaxed air surrounded the women, their patrons either gone for the night or helped soundly asleep by alcohol and other activities.
Many of the girls were drinking wine from cups and laughing loudly at the words of one of their number. Zakhar peered closely at the speaker, who was clothed in nothing but a red silk robe loosely tied at the waste that left little to the imagination.
It was Ao.
"—afterwards I told him, it's not the bonds you crave. It's the submission." Around her, the flowers chortled at the punchline of a story Zakhar was glad he had missed.
Zakhar scanned the remainder of the empty courtyard, frowning. There was no danger that he could see.
Suddenly, a door to one of the lower rooms leading off the courtyard burst open and a flower came staggering out, arms flailing and blood streaming from her nose and top lip, which had been split and was quickly swelling.
The woman caught a nearby pillar and leaned on it for support, sobbing, tears mixing with the blood on her face. Her clothes were in disarray, dress pulled to the side so as to expose one pale shoulder.
A man emerged from the room behind her, blood on his knuckles. He reached for the sobbing girl, but she staggered away again, toward the group of flowers and Ao.
Zakhar tensed, hands twisting on the railing. "I'll remove him," he growled, starting toward the stairs.
Mei lay a hand on his arm to still him. "You will not. I employ someone for this."
At that moment, the old daquan appeared from the guardroom near the gate. The dog had a long stick with a curved crock at one end, the kind herders usually use for herding unruly sheep.
The bloody knuckled man saw the stick and laughed, then made a rude gesture at the daquan. "Touch me mutt, I dare you. I'll call the moss cloaks here before you can piss yourself. They'll drag you out in the gutter and put you down like the dog you are."
The daquan froze. The man turned back to the women and pointed to the bleeding, crying girl where she sat among them. "I paid for you for the night whore. Come do what you were paid to do."
There was silence, the chatter of the flowers stilled. Suddenly, laughter rang out. Zakhar's blood ran cold as Ao stood, red silk robe falling against her figure, and made her way toward the man, her laughter fading to chuckles.
"Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my. You are a rough sort of man, aren't you?" she said. She stopped calmly before him, hand on one hip.
The man looked Ao up and down, leering nastily at the outline of her breasts where they appeared through the silk robe. "Perhaps," said Ao, reaching out a hand to lay the tip of her finger against the man's chest, "I can give you what you want tonight."
Zakhar felt revulsion roll in his stomach, and he started down the stairs once more, but Mei caught his sleeve.
"Wait..." she cautioned, eyes fixed on Ao.
The violent man with the bloody knuckles reached for Ao, pulling her against him. Ao snaked her arms around his neck, much as she had done to Zakhar that night in her room weeks ago, and brought her lips close to his ear as if to whisper.
Her next words, however, were not whispered, and all present heard them.
"Rough men should be treated... roughly."
Cupping both her hands behind the man's head, Ao pulled down with all the force in her small frame. At the same time, she brought her knee up, to meet the man's chin with a crack.
The man staggered backwards, clutching his chin in shock. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, and when he opened his mouth to curse, his teeth were red with it. He spit out a piece of his own tongue.
Ao laughed, and shifted her feet into a wider stance.
When the man lunged for her, she sidestepped and tripped him, sending him careening into the nearest sofa. He got up, and staggered for her, arms wide as if to tackle her to the ground. Ao twisted deftly under his arms brought her elbow down on his back where it met his neck, and the man bellowed, falling once more.
Ao laughed again. She gestured to the daquan, still frozen where he stood. The guard dog looked at her, puzzled, then handed over the shepherd's stick.
When the bloody-knuckled, bloody-mouthed man stood again, Ao was ready. Using the stick and the man's own clumsy momentum, again and again she deflected attacks and landed her own, sending her opponent tripping and falling all over the courtyard.
"Who... is she?" asked Mei.
The watching flowers, who initially had cheered Ao on, gradually quietened, as the fight became more and more one sided.
Finally, after one particularly bad fall followed by several sharp blows to the side, the man did not get up, defeated by Ao, the stick, and the alcohol. "Haha, I really do feel remarkably more relaxed now," said Ao, shrugging her shoulders as though to loosen them.
Zakhar stood on the stairs, frozen where he had stopped. Ao had not seen him. For that, he felt relieved.
Before now, he had seen Ao as a flame. Bright, burning, precocious and beautiful. But still, something fragile, that must be protected at all costs, lest it be snuffed out.
Looking at the Ao now, laughing over her fallen opponent, there was no sense of fragility. She was no flame. She was a raging torrent, overwhelming all who got in her path.
Zakhar recalled the words Ao had said, into his chest, that night in her room, when it seemed as thought the world would break her.
"I want to kill him. I want to kill him, but I can't."
Zakhar had thought they were just words, spoken in frustration and anger. Suddenly, with fearful clarity, he realized Ao had meant them.
Zakhar had felt many things in connection to Ao. Need, worry, anger. Lust. Sadness. Hope and despair. Now, watching Ao's unaccountable glee at the violence she had wrought, Zakhar's instincts, honed after living a life of danger, sparked.
Standing there, in the brothel, he felt something he hadn't felt in connection to Ao before.
He felt fear.
*~*~*~*~*~*