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poison.
    Charlotte did not reply at first, and he felt himself squirm under the force of her gaze. In the end, she sighed and turned toward the door. "I suppose you are right," she commented as they stepped out into the street. "I believe, technically, one has to pay for them to be called whores."
    His breath thickened enough to choke him. And yet, somehow, he still managed to hand her up into the carriage. Some of his horror must have shown on his face, for she paused halfway to her seat.
    "Men always think they're so clever." She rolled her eyes, and when he didn't respond, she elaborated. "I know you've lain with every white woman in Shanghai." Then she flushed a brilliant scarlet that in no way dimmed the intelligence in her eyes. "All of them, of course, except me."
    * * *
    A letter clutched in Wen Ken Jin's ten-year-old fist
    and handed to Tan Shi Po.
     
    July 9, 1881
     
    To dearest Tigress sister Tan Shi Po:
    My daughter-in-law is insane. My son is possessed by a demon. Please, for love of the practice we both share, take this boy and protect him. I will send what money I can for his care, but he has no one. Please, I beg you, care for my grandson. He is the cleverest of the lot. He will bring you great fortune.
    In wrenching grief,
    Wen Ai Men

 
     
     

     
    To relieve vertigo, apply pressure at the point which is about 2.5 cm/1 inch below the outer ankle-bone. Tong Sing, the Chinese Book of Wisdom,
    Dr. Charles Windridge
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    She'd done it again; Charlotte had opened her mouth and something scandalous leapt out. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. If only she could keep her mouth shut as easily, but the urge was too strong: She had to explain herself. But what to say to the servant who sat in stoic silence beside her? He wasn't even taking up the reins. He just sat there and stared at the horse's ears.
    "I am so sorry," she blurted. "I should not have spoken so bluntly. And on an open street, no less." She used Shanghai dialect so as to keep up the pretense that she belonged in this Chinese side of the city. Unfortunately, that meant the pair of women passing on the street overheard and understood. As one, they turned and stared, and Charlotte's face heated to a burning crimson. Lord, even her hands had gone red with embarrassment.
    "It's not what it sounds like," she said hastily to the pair. "He's a modest man, most moral. Well, for a man, I mean. Not—"
    Her words were cut off by a squeal of horror. One of the women—she was actually more of a girl, really, with a soft moon face and chapped lips—let loose a bizarre sound that was half scream, half Chinese wail.
    "Really," Charlotte cried, desperate to end the spectacle. "He's not evil at all. It is only that my friends talk to me. About..." She trailed off. Nothing she said could possibly help. Besides, the women weren't listening. They just kept screaming or cursing or praying—it was hard to tell exactly what was happening; the Chinese words ran too fast for her to understand. Charlotte caught the phrase "ghost devil" and "fire tongue." Or maybe it was "fire head." It must have been the latter, because she heard Ken Jin curse before throwing her shawl back over her. She had let it drop in the courtyard and forgotten to hide her reddish blond hair.
    "Oh yes," she scrambled to say to the two still-squealing women. "My hair. It is very bright, but—"
    "Be silent!" Ken Jin hissed as he snapped the reins. The horse obediently kicked into a stately walk. The women followed, screeching.
    "But I'm trying to explain."
    "You're not!" he snapped in English.
    "But I have damaged your reputation! I cannot—"
    "They don't care that I lie with women!" he ground out in English, glaring at the growing crowd of pointing and squealing and jabbering Chinese.
    "But then—"
    "It is you!" he snapped. "An Englishwoman who speaks Chinese. They think you are invading."
    She blinked, first at him and then at the pointing crowd. "But I'm not.