My mouth goes dry. I nod. He leans forward, ever so slowly. His scent, a perfume of sweet persimmon, citrusy walnuts layered with crisp watermelon rind and freshly fallen snow, fills my lungs. His edges sparkle gold at the corner of my eyes. He comes forward until he blurs and I close my eyes, hold my breath. His lips meet mine in the softest of touches, like the gentle flutter of butterfly wings.
And then – nothing. I open my eyes. That’s it? He might as well have patted me on the head.
‘There,’ he says. ‘You have now had your first kiss.’
‘That’s not what I expected.’
Mr Lee blinks at me. ‘Was that not good?’
‘I thought it would be more exciting.’ I trace the pink brocade pattern on the armrest, trying not to pout. ‘I hardly even felt it.’ My mind flashes briefly to Brother Zhu, and his demon-may-care attitude. ‘Doallmen kiss like that?’
Mr Lee bristles. ‘A-allmen?’ I wonder if he too is thinking of Brother Zhu. ‘Let me try again,’ he insists. ‘I’m sure I can kiss better. I don’t want your first kiss to be a disappointment.’
‘But it already is. I can’t see how you can change that.’
‘It’s not over, this is still your first kiss – since you haven’t stood up, if I kiss you again, it still counts.’
I’m not convinced. He’s still, waiting for my consent, so I nod. It can’t be as bad as the first one, surely. He leans forward again, this time hands cupping my face. His thumb traces over my lips, and he hovers, his nose brushing against mine, his breath tickling my lips. He runs the tip of his nose over my cheek.
‘You smell of sunshine and chillis and orange blossoms, dancing on an ocean breeze.’ His voice is husky.
Want unfurls inside me and I can’t breathe him in enough. I lift my chin seeking his lips, and he meets me halfway. This kiss begins just as gentle as the first, butterflies fluttering. His lips press against mine, meeting me fully. And then, his lips move, oh so deliberately. Like tasting. I do the same, and am surprised how much more I enjoy this than that first brush of skin against skin.
Kissing Mr Lee is a little like my first dance at the Paramount; I am so aware of myself, my body, my wrong turns, my wrong steps. But then, like my second dance, with Mr Lee leading and showing me the steps, suddenly there’s a point when I’m no longer aware of myself, only of the music and how it makes me feel.
My hands thread into his hair, and I pull him tighter to me, groan softly. Our scents entwine; the music takes over. Lips touch, tongues dance. He cradles the back of my head, steals my breath, murmurs my name. We kiss and kiss until I am breathless and no longer know where I stop and where he begins.
A knock at the door makes Mr Lee jump. He tears away from me, eyes wild, panting hard. He touches his fingers to his lips, swollen from kissing. ‘Forgive me, Lady Jing, contain this worthless one’s lack of control—’
He’s so panic stricken I can’t bring myself to be angry with that formal claptrap.
‘Jing!’ Gigi’s voice calls from the other side of the door. ‘I can smell the food from here. Let us in.’
Mr Lee takes one look at the door and runs for the bathroom. I let Gigi and Ah Lang in, puzzled by his strange reaction. Gigi’s gaze roves over my face. I roll my lips under, wondering if she can tell I’ve been kissing Mr Lee. My cheeks heat from the memory.
She smirks. ‘You look like you’re feeling better, Jing. Good night?’
I splutter.
Gigi sweeps past me, laughing. ‘I’m starving. Nighttime exercise always gives me a good appetite in the morning.’ It’s Ah Lang’s turn to splutter while Gigi’s tinkling laugh fills the room.
My face feels like it’s on fire, but I take her hands. ‘Thank you, Gigi, for taking care of me last night.’
Her smirk melts into a soft smile. She squeezes my hands gently before tossing her hair and saying, ‘Enough gooey eyes, it doesn’t suit you. Come, let’s eat.’
She pulls Ah Lang to the table and I join them. Eventually Mr Lee reappears, wet hair slicked back. He smiles shyly and takes a seat beside me.
‘We got word from Brother Zhu this morning,’ Ah Lang says through a mouthful of food. ‘Yun snuck a peak at Old Man Lei’s book.’
‘So, who was it?’ I ask.
Gigi stage whispers, ‘Lady Ay was the one who made the talisman and its silk pouch.’
For a moment the room is so silent I can hear the traffic from the Bund.
‘Lady Ay? She was my mother’s old handmaid. The only one at court who looked out for me. Never a harsh word. When she could, she hid me from the worst of my tormentors. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.’ I frown. It seems impossible to me that she would be the one to swap a talisman. ‘She doesn’t even know Mr Lee, why would she try to harm him?’
‘Maybe Mr Lee offended her in some way?’ Gigi says. We all look to Mr Lee.
