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the only school I know, Miss Charlotte, that might take in a white student in secret. And where she might meet—"
    "Her Chinese husband! Of course! I overheard a maid talking. She said Joanna had a Chinese husband." Charlotte shook her head, emotion coloring her skin a fiery red. "Imagine, marrying a Chinaman. I cannot quite credit it." She sighed. "But if anyone were to do it, it would be Joanna. She has such a passion for Chinese things..."
    But that wouldn't explain the decision of her Chinese husband, Ken Jin thought. Imagine, being so desperate for milky thighs as to actually marry an Englishwoman. He couldn't credit it either.
    Miss Charlotte twisted in her seat to survey their surroundings. "Where is this school? Obviously not in the English territory or any of the foreign concessions. There would be no reason for secrecy if that were true."
    Ken Jin didn't respond. For all that she was white and a woman, Miss Charlotte had a quick mind. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the school had to be native. And so it was. Soon she would have to hide her face and hair as he bribed their way into the only Chinese territory left inside Shanghai.
    Miss Charlotte took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "Exactly what kind of school are we going to, Ken Jin? What was Joanna studying?"
    "You must ask the director of the school," he responded smoothly. Ken Jin had great faith in the Tigress Shi Po. If anyone could handle an overly curious white woman, it would be she.
    "But, Ken Jin, you have to know something. What—"
    "You must be silent now, Miss Charlotte. We will be in Chinese territory soon."
    "But—"
    "Unless you wish to remain behind?"
    "Of course not, but—"
    "Then you must cover your head and remain very quiet."
    "I cannot see the reason that our two countries—"
    "Please, Miss Charlotte."
    She subsided then, though her sigh was so heartfelt it actually rocked the carriage. Ken Jin hid his amusement. How long before her innate life energy forced her to express herself again? To speak or fidget or even to touch him simply because her mortal form could not contain the qi that bounced about inside her? He hoped it would last at least three minutes—long enough for them to pass through the gate and get five houses away from the soldiers.
    She was already beginning to stir, so he shot her a warning glare. She immediately stilled, pressing her lips together, and he nodded in approval. He did not want her talking. He would much rather she touched him in her anxiety. The sight of her slender white fingers on his body—even with the protective covering of his shirt and coat—would be enough to stir his yang fire. He did not understand his spirit's love of white hands or long unpainted fingernails, but he had always responded to such a sight.
    Perhaps it stemmed from that first night when he looked up and beheld her—a blond goddess in ethereal white—watching as he guided her father across the threshold. In that moment, she had appeared divine to him, and from then on, white women stirred his blood as no others could.
    When they were past the gate, he sent her another warning look: Don't speak. She nodded, her jade eyes huge. His dragon stirred in appreciation. Master William had once told him about white people's legends, about dragons who hoarded wealth—gold, diamonds, and emeralds. Never once had the boy mentioned jade. But there was great power in that most precious of Chinese stones, a subtle beauty only revealed when light shone from behind or within it, and such was the way with Miss Charlotte's eyes. Normally, they were a dull, murky green. But sometimes something happened and her internal light sparked. She would come alive and her eyes seemed to glow like jade before a flame.
    Ken Jin loved the sight and had made a personal study of what brought the light to her eyes: her brother, when the boy managed to accomplish anything without disaster; her visits to the now absent Joanna; any unusual