Chapter 49: Matrimony

Within the privacy of his home, Zhou Tai had finally managed to change into a more acceptable set of clothes – a modest, black coat, and long pants of matching colour. His heart pounding, he proceeded to the small dining table. Cynthia seated herself beside him on a wooden chair, and her long blonde hair contrasted agreeably to the red cloth that covered her body. On the table were two bowls of rice and a pot of hot, fragrant soup. "I am sorry," he apologized again, placing a platter of mouth-watering roast duck beside the mushrooms. He glanced at her rounded shoulders, suppressing the primal, bestial urge within his loins. He had always been a shy, quiet man, but his… means of physical expression had burgeoned to almost unbearable proportions for the time he had known and cherished her. "I am a bad groom, am I not?" he asked, as he sat down beside her, lifting his utensils and picking a serving of steaming vegetables for her plate. "It has been a long time since I returned to live here. I see I must pay better attention to my home, now that you have arrived."

"I prefer it this way," she smiled, playing with her hair. "After so many heavy banquets in Shu's castles, it feels wonderful to be enjoying a simple home meal with you." She placed a hand on his lap. "Jiangdong is also my home, after all."

Her stomach growled. Her spar with Flora and the subsequent trip to Zhou Tai's home had taken its toll. She needed at least some sustenance. She took a piece of mushroom and bit down, and her eyes widened at its refined flavour. "You're a sneaky one, Tai! I didn't know you were so… good at cooking, too."

"This is nothing," he mumbled, embarrassed. "For you, I will cook anything."

"But will you let me cook?" she wondered, placing a finger on her chin amusedly after she gulped down a piece of chicken. "In fact…" her smile widened into a mischievous one. "I have a wonderful recipe I've been fantasizing about preparing, just for you."

"I look forward to it," he lied, but he felt his sincerity solidifying as he gazed upon her delighted countenance. "What might it be? Beef? Noodles? Pork?" he encouraged.

Her eyes shone as she moved to feed him a piece of poached chicken. "It's a secret. I will add in… something only I have… into the dish." He accepted her offer and chewed quietly, watching her flushed, happy face. He was about to respond with another question when she paused, her air turning reflective.

"Hey… Tai."

"Hm?"

"That was very considerate, what you did this afternoon… but so very silly too," she chided. "It was very silly of you to have Flora entertain me and arrange for the procession whilst you prepared for our wedding, all alone."

He blanched. So she knows? His voice lowered to an even lower mutter than it already was. "I… I asked her not to tell you why I…"

"Marquess Flora may be one of the Shu Kingdom's most beautiful ladies, but she actually has a weakness for gossip, I think," giggled Cynthia. "She told her Grand General of our plans for marriage after we arrived at Jieting, remember? But now she's spoilt your plan. Oh, well. It wasn't much of a plan anyway, silly baby." She put down her chopsticks and raised her hands to his face. "You didn't send me all those letters of domestic acceptance because you didn't want to remind me of something I don't have. But to be honest…" her voice became a sad whisper. "I could have accepted them myself. I am my own family. Besides, I feel that we will always be alone, as two half-Yoma united in marriage."

He set aside his bowl and embraced her. She blinked as he gently nudged away a grain of rice that had stuck to her chin. "What you say is true. But I have no true family, either. Neither of us needs household rituals. For it is only now that we know what it means… to truly belong." He lowered his gaze, and slowly moved to retrieve something from the pouch inside his coat. "I belong to Wu, to Sun Quan, to my men. I serve them all. But this… this is a different kind of belonging. One that is more important to me than any other bond." He lifted up his hand.

Now it was her turn to blanch. He had brought out a red packet, a thin envelope containing what could only be…

"This letter…" she whispered. She stared at him in wonder. "This is… this is the wedding epistle Miss Flora mentioned."

"He could not send you a request letter, for you have no family to assent to it. You have not received a gift letter, for he cannot present gifts to nonexistent kin. All he can do tonight is give you a wedding letter… that will accept you into his hearth and home."

"I hereby… accept you into me. I accept and desire and welcome you as my wife." He drew closer and kissed her lips, completely oblivious to the food that lay on the table, forgotten. "Please. Accept this letter, and let this torture stop. Let me hear you speak the words." His fond eyes glowed with an otherworldly infatuation. "Call me your husband."

She opened it, her fingers trembling and scrabbling at the creased, crimson paper. And on the parchment inside were the words, the words that sealed their covenant and their betrothal:

On this day, henceforth, I accept Cynthia into my family as my wife – now, and forevermore. Zhou Tai Youping.

"As you wish," she whispered, almost not daring to believe that her happiness was scribbled on this small parchment. She stared at him, her voice breaking. "You are my beloved husband, my companion in life and in death. I am your wife, your forever faithful and loyal wife." She began to giggle, breaking down in overjoyed laughter. Pearly tears rolled freely down her cheeks. "I will never, ever leave you."

"And you will never be alone, either," he murmured, hugging his half-Yoma bride tightly. His stiff clothes pressed against her wedding dress. "Our damned lives will never be miserable or forlorn. And even if the world abandons us in hate and rejection… we will not be alone…"

The door to his bungalow suddenly opened. He would have moved to investigate the identity of the visitor had a strong and instantly recognizable voice not rung out. "Even then, you two are not alone. The burden of being a half-demon should never be borne by one half-human." A man in silver armour strode in, unarmed and beaming benevolently. "My apologies, Lord Zhou!" he saluted. "Is this comrade of yours intruding?"

Cynthia's teary eyes widened as she continued to clutch at Zhou Tai's shoulders. "Master Zhao!"

"A rather curt invitation, was it not?" asked the Shu knight, raising an eyebrow. "My beloved and I received nothing more than a piece of parchment with a nervous scrawl, to come to Jiu Jiang Prefecture as guests in Lord Zhou's humble home. It was as if you invited us out of mere courtesy, and would rather have not hosted the entire thing at all."

Zhou Tai looked past Cynthia, unable to mask his surprise. "I am sorry," he said impulsively. "I did not wish to trouble you further with everything I have done – "

"Enough!" cried a saintly, beatific voice.

Cynthia gasped, rubbing her eyes frantically. Zhou Tai looked even more taken aback as Zhao Yun triumphantly moved aside and bowed, deferentially making way for Marquess Flora. She was lavishly garbed in a sapphire, long gown and top, and her high heels clacked vigorously on the old, almost decrepit floor. "You must stop this," she exclaimed, her voice full of caring and frustrated compassion. "To see our friendship as a burden… it is not true closeness, Lord Zhou. I answered your request this afternoon to keep Miss Cynthia entertained, and I would answer many more… especially now that you are husband and wife. That is the true respect comrades give each other. A fearlessness to love, and a fearlessness to be loved."

Zhao Yun bowed low at the waist before the Wu admiral. "Let us forget all our enmity and the wounds we inflicted at Yi Ling. Let's affirm what we have enjoyed for quite some time now – our alliance, our entente. The comradeship that overcomes our hostility." He extended his hand. "The women we love are closer comrades than we are. Surely we can't let them outshine us! What do you say, sir?"

Zhou Tai lowered his head in shame. How much had he already learned from these silver-eyed women? How much longer was he going to live strung between the painful past and the uncertain future? He had never any true right to protest against his life's lot in the first place – the loss of half his humanity was well worth that of Cynthia's. She had made him whole, and more. And now, to be surrounded by allies whom he believed he had no choice but to fight as enemies from another world and another Kingdom…

"Where are my manners?" he muttered. "Please. Forgive me…" he smiled shyly. His words were short but thoroughly sincere. "Master Zilong. It is beyond question. I will always stand by you as your friend."

Zhao Yun's eyes sparkled. "Then, what are you waiting for, honoured host? What is friendship without joyous wine?"

"Zilong!" reproached Flora hastily, although she could not hold back a smile of reluctant agreement. She had almost forgotten that their time in China had opened up an entirely new world to them – a world of friendship and love with those who accepted, or hardly minded, their existences as half-Yoma, half-human. Amidst all the pain and suffering in the land, they had found shelter and refuge closest to home – the refuge of Shu and Wu.

Zhou Tai nodded in response to Zhao Yun's proposal. "I have prepared vintage. Perhaps enough for the four of us." He rose. "Allow me to bring it for you."

The groom hurried to the storeroom, where he had stashed away several vessels of southern Chinese wine. He strode back, bending and laying them onto the ground. He scooped up four additional ceramic cups on the cupboard top beside the table, and began to fill them to the brim. "Will you try my humble alcohol, Marquess?"

"But of course," nodded Flora, bowing.

"Here's to you," laughed Zhao Yun. "And an additional swig for the bride!"

"Yes," nodded Zhou Tai, and Cynthia giggled giddily.

Flora beamed. She glanced at Zhao Yun. "Now that is the silent, selfless Youping all have come to know and treasure."

"And somewhat clueless," added Cynthia loudly.

"Let us make merry," proposed Zhou Tai uncertainly, encouraged by the Shu couple's support. "And… I thank you… for the incomparable friendship that you have given me for all this time. That I remember it only now… that Marquess Flora must remind me of it on my own wedding night… it is a crying shame."

"Please don't say that. It is human to forget, especially in times of uncertainty. But the bond shared by the four of us is anything but uncertain," said Flora. Without hesitation, she and Zhao Yun approached Zhou Tai and carefully took up their handle-less cups by the table. They raised their hands.

Zhao Yun glanced at Cynthia and grinned. "A toast – to the Zhou family's prosperity and everlasting happiness!"

"Congratulations, my dear friend," gushed Flora, after the four warriors drank their fill. "A thousand blessings to you and the groom."

"Thank you… thank you both so much," squeaked the bride. She quaffed down her wine, hopped up and clasped the Marquess to her, unable to restrain her affection. "Thank you… for coming, too. It's just us. I hope you don't mind. I only wish your Grand General could have come, too."

Flora took another sip and then returned her attention to her Wu counterpart. "I could not hope for anything else, although our Lady's absence is a shame indeed. Perhaps… Zilong?" she uttered in surprise. "What has animated you so?"

Zhao Yun's eyes were glinting with energy. He adjusted his silver circlet. "I challenge you, Youping," he joked. "I challenge not your sword – but your liver – to a duel!"

"This is unlike you… but regardless, I am half-Yoma," smiled Zhou Tai. Somehow tonight, he felt more relaxed than he had been in ten years. For once, it was as if Zhao Yun resembled one of his men, the type of soldier whom he would share jovial occasions with. Then… so be it. It had been too long. He downed his first cup of fruity, bitter liquid as if it were merely water. He poured himself another cup. "Let us begin."

"Then you accept my contest," bragged the young Shu knight, grabbing the vessel of wine and pouring himself another draught. "The first man to collapse must carry Marquess Flora all the way back to Wu Zhang Plains, to face the Wei armies whilst still inebriated!"

"Are you already intoxicated, Zilong?" teased Flora, her high voice nonchalant.

"You cannot outlast me," murmured Zhou Tai. "Prepare to lose."

Cynthia crossed her hands on her hips, feigning anger. "Now, what's this? It should be my wedding!" she cried, amused and pleased by the congenial ambience. "Sizing up each other now, are we – "

Flora shot a sideways glance at her, and their eyes met. Their eyes widened in realization, and they turned away, blushing furiously. Neither Zhao Yun nor Zhou Tai noticed that their sweethearts had fallen into an embarrassed silence, and they innocently commenced their drinking competition in earnest. Amidst Zhao Yun's histrionics and Zhou Tai's calm and collected rebuttals, Cynthia found herself eagerly awaiting the contest's end. She smiled knowingly at the pink-faced Flora, and realized that the Marquess was hoping for exactly the same.

It had been a most peculiar wedding, full of emotion, tears and loving exchanges. But now, it had simply slipped into the absurd.

"Tai's is still the largest," she insisted, quietly and with purpose.

*

Chinese wine tasted rather strange. But the ale from the Continent's taverns was hardly stellar alcohol, either. No matter. Drink functioned as a social lubricant, to ease hesitation and open hearts, and tonight in Jiu Jiang, it had been phenomenally successful. But the night was late, and tensions of the bawdy sort were electrifying the evening air. Only Heaven knew the things that Flora and Zhao Yun were doing in Zhou Tai's living room and in his cramped kitchen. He did not mind. His bungalow might have been rather small, but it was cosy and comfortable enough for the Shu couple to stay the night. Already, the giggles and sighing and loving words were loudening in volume. It would not be long until the passion grew too strong to remain unconsummated.

The Shu couple were certainly impressive. But he was no weakling, either. He sat with Cynthia in his room, the small room he had put so much effort into beautifying for her. They had consummated their relationship many times too, but tonight was surely a special night, the first evening that they would sleep together as husband and wife. The candlelight by their bedstead flickered gently, and the chimes tinkled by the late night breeze. The red curtains looked better than he had planned, to his relief. He had stripped off his shirt, although his pants remained, and Cynthia eagerly worked away at them. He tenderly cupped her cheeks in his hands, his silver eyes glimmering in hopeful jubilance. They did not need to speak of their desire. They knew one another well enough to understand.

Although she was beyond the capabilities of normal human beings, she was still not built for war – a soft body like hers, a gentle soul like hers – if anything, becoming a half-Yoma had rendered her even more fragile, more susceptible to a pain and misery that she never deserved. The demonic flesh within her only compounded her fragility – the fragility of her humanity, of her hope.

"My beloved Cynthia of Pieta," he murmured. Such fragility… made her all the more beautiful.

She lowered her gaze submissively. "No. I am no longer Cynthia of Pieta. The world will know me by who I have always wanted to be… Cynthia of Jiangdong. Cynthia of Wu. Cynthia Zhou, wife of Admiral Zhou Tai." Her voice became a sigh. Her hands moved to slip off her dress at the seams, but he stopped her. She blinked up at him, slightly surprised. "My Lord?"

"There is no need," he whispered huskily, his voice hurried and urgent. He came upon her, his thin lips pressing down hard on her navel, kissing and amusing her with the quiet dedication that so characterized him – his life, his service to Wu and Sun Quan… and his love for her. "You saved my life at Chi Bi, and you saved my life at He Fei," he moaned, as his undergarments finally left his body by her keen fingers. "I will return your noble kindness a hundredfold."

She licked her lips. Her new Lord was a wise man indeed – there was a certain sultriness in keeping her crimson clothes and in having him lift apart the seams to gaze at her pale curves and breasts. It seemed to almost sap his strength whilst he gently brushed away her cloth and eased aside her underwear, revealing an already drenched womanhood. Encouraged, he strengthened and quickened his foreplay, doing away with any pretence of restraint. His hands moved rapidly and mercilessly, and they would show no quarter.

She mewled sensuously. Her back was already arched in wonder, and her eyes dreamy with adulation. It would be enough to bring her home.

The dampness of her loins was unbearable, she desired him inside her, to complete this pleasure… now! She pulled the back of his head against her; the humidity of the night drenching them in each other's pining. "I belong to you; I am entirely yours. I will do whatever you want me to do – oh!" she laughed and squirmed as he plunged his fingers within her, his hand twisting and turning with expert proficiency, utterly familiar with what pleased her most. She purred, and giggled loudly again.

What other surprises did he have in store? What else did he intend to do with her?

I know your strength and your courage will seep into me, seep into me through that sword of yours. It is a delicious strength… one that never tires.

He moaned and quivered in rapture, holding her closer. "I will do… anything you want me to."

"Surprise… surprise me," she begged, giving him that keen, agonized command as she panted quietly in his arms.

"You don't seem to want me to hold back," he murmured.

"How far will you go?" she asked eagerly. "Just how far are you going to take me, baby?"

He did not reply, and she was about to tease an answer out of him when he made his move, falling upon her and angrily kissing her as he crossed the threshold, her threshold, and his eyes narrowed in concentration as he discovered a new pinnacle. She had commanded him enter from both gates, her toes curled hard in anticipation and ecstasy as he thrust deeper, lubricating her ubiquitously, and squealed as he gently eased her into a submissive, derriere-baring position. She blurted out an incoherent, insincere reproach, something about being a naughty monster.

But it was in good fun, and Cynthia was a fun-loving wife.

She clasped her breasts and forced down her brassiere, twirling her hard nipples lightly and arousing herself further with fantasies of his forceful domination of her person. It was not far off. She gasped again as he attacked – he had taken full advantage of her, of her exposed womanhood and rear passage. She was amazed that he had managed to soothe away at her behind so smoothly, so easily – it gave itself to him with little more than a moment's hesitation, and he did not seemed surprised in the least at their new venture. It did not even sting, but it felt warm, warm like a fireplace in the hearth. She moaned quietly to savour his efforts while they rocked back and forth, their voices in harmony with one another's in a song of desire. He took her in silence, allowing her cries to fill the sweltering air of the bedroom.

"Is… is this enjoyable?" he mumbled, after several minutes of massaging her from within. "Are… you pleased with this?"

Silence.

Why did he always have to question his own prowess? Did he not know that he was amazing, gentle and tender and patient and powerful? Oh, if only she could make him understand!

"You big dummy… You need not ask – do!" Her voice loudened, surprising him, and it grew to the point where she screamed for him to shut up, to fulfil his duty as her husband and to do his job… to be quiet as he always was. She laughed and moaned in victory, her hands massaging her bouncing breasts beyond her lingerie while he squeezed her buttocks, pushing into her from behind, her wild, wandering mind teasing itself with what his expression would be like. Was he smiling? Was he grinning in masculine, aggressive triumph? Or was he filled with that tender countenance, that soft, gentle smile that he had shown her when he presented to her his wedding letter?

"Well… whatever," she mouthed, saliva seeping down her chin as his hands turned her around roughly. His long tongue found her lips, and she closed her eyes in submission. You… will never change to me, Tai. But for you… for you, I will change. And then you can… truly claim mastery over me.

His eyes flashed yellow. He pressed his hands against her and crossed into her again. Void, then creation. Wonderful tranquillity, then explosive fulfillment. He was perfect. He was a perfect monster, a machine of bliss. She scrabbled at him, her nails digging into his chest, screaming for him to take her harder, faster, to show no mercy to this disobedient wife of his. She pushed him back onto the bed, her tongue trailing across her teeth as she savoured his tender face, his eager expression. She laughed and descended. You are all mine. She made love to him in her wedding dress, the crimson folds flailing in an almost undignified manner as she impaled herself violently on his steel broadsword, that broadsword that carved painful wounds of love and yearning into her. His member did not relent, its bulge satiating her only for a few seconds, before he lifted her up with his powerful arms, and she angrily demanded that he ram it inside once again.

But that naughty Tai – it was his intention to leave her moaning and wriggling for more. He did not keep up the façade of detachment for long. She gasped in delighted shock as he entered her from below again. Even as the renewed sensation shot through her labia and into her core, he pulled her up and pushed her down once more. Helpless to do anything save hold him, she jerked up her head and cried her joy to the wooden ceiling. He was even more virile than before, his strength almost inhuman. It was as if he had tapped into his Yoki just to grant himself greater… endurance.

"You… you are using your full strength, are you not?" she whimpered, drawing closer and licking his forehead, his eyelids and eyebrows tenderly. Her saliva trickled down his sweating face. "Don't lose yourself… I don't want to…"

"Do not fear," he murmured, nibbling her neck softly. He held her steady while she continued to bounce up and down on his lap, their orgasm drawing closer with each thrust they performed. "I will not Awaken. Not with you in my arms." His strength had multiplied, and his face was filled with concentration. She breathed in awe, and sighed in guilty bliss. Why did he try so hard, why did he place her on that high pedestal, so high that he could barely reach that summit? Would he stop at no length to complete her?

But all those questions did not matter any longer. Cynthia and Zhou Tai struggled with all their strength, determined to outdo each other in bountiful giving. She refused to be outdone by him, and he refused to be outdone by her. And for that reason, their pleasure was heightened beyond any limit they could have imposed upon themselves.

The moaning from Zhao Yun and Flora outside their room had grown even louder. They did not hold back despite being a wall away. Or perhaps it was for that very reason that they did not hold back, playfully, wordlessly challenging the newly wedded couple if they could match their passion with one of their own? And so they did. The four warriors' wailing, growling and purring intermingled and united, not in competition, but in shared acknowledgement of the intensity of the love that had been bequeathed on them. Four hot, inflamed, sweating bodies thrashed in passion inside the small bungalow that wedding night. It would be their little secret, the mischievous secret that the Shu-Wu allies shared. Zhou Tai and Cynthia certainly did not care for restraint as they climaxed together, two half-demons united by both flesh and spirit.

There was no reason to care any longer, for they now made love as husband and wife.

The moon shone ever brighter in the Wu Kingdom that night.