[Fiction] Beauty, Love, Truthful, Yearning (Adult)

[Li Ai Jun Yen]

The resignation letter had been sent, attached to a virus that would wipe certain records, acquired from an elite cyberkinetic who asked no questions in return for certain habits to remain unknown. His name had come up in the soma investigation that had brought her to Chicago, and that knowledge permitted her to blackmail him.

Unsurprisingly, an OpMail popped up in her soon-to-be defunct account. The Yellow Water Dragon had more worshippers than might be supposed in Indonesia, and she had known one worked for Interpol as administrative staff. It was how she spoke to him without Nan Ho being aware, and passed on his message back to the Sun King.

Congratulations and an offer. She accepted the former and rejected the latter politely. Ending her previous life left her unready to embrace... alternatives. Even if Nan Ho was one such as Yellow Water Dragon.

Wind howled outside the cheap boarding room, the latest in a long line, and gave Chicago its moniker most accurately. Though it was warm with the beginning of autumn in this country, the wind still blew with all the velocity of a monsoon at this time of night. Or perhaps it was her heart intensifying the weather to match the storm her life would become.

Not that she possessed control over the weather. That was the province of the Yellow Water Dragon and Nan Ho, not herself. Both claimed she was a goddess, but all she saw in her reflection was a thin Asian woman with too-bright eyes and cheap clothing who needed a good bath.

With that thought, she turned away from the cracked window and walked into the bathroom with its dingy off-white tiles and old-fashioned ceramic. She very deliberately stripped off the denim jeans and threadbare white t-shirt, cream sports bra and black hipster bikini underwear, dumping them in the corner before turning on the shower and stepping into the bath.

Thin, too thin. Her ribcage was too visible beneath the sugar-brown flesh of her torso, the flatness of her stomach between the sharp definition of her hipbones was alarming and the slightness of her frame looked more shrunken than deceptive. Coarse and dull, her straight black hair hung in clumps around her delicate shoulders, and her face was gaunt with too-bright black eyes.

How long had she looked like this? Her memory reminded her of the carefully orchestrated interviews, rare though they were, where make-up artists and hairdressers worked on her face and hair - to alter her natural appearance for the protection of her work as an agent, she was told. But was it to hide the damage that her duties were having on her?

She shook her head, dismissing idle speculation, and grabbed the shampoo that she had bought earlier. Once completely wet, she poured it over her hair and lathered up berry-scented foam until her locks were completely tangled. Two more times, after a complete rinsing, she did this. Conditioner, left in her hair for ten minutes, followed that.

When her hair was rinsed, she got the bottle of body wash and started to pay attention to her flesh and bones. Almonds, apricot oil and sandalwood foamed in the crevices and creases of her body wherever her hands took her, tracing half-remembered paths over skin the colour of raw sugar. Flushing with the memory of desire, the memory of pleasure, she slipped her hand over the pubic mound and between her vaginal lips, telling herself that she was cleansing down there.

But her fingers tangled in her black pubic hair and explored the folds of her most private place until she found her clitoris. Tentatively, remembering something Nan Ho had done with his hand there the last time they had made love, she brushed it with her thumb until her breath was coming in gasps and her insides were clenching. Soon, too soon, warmth was exploding from her groin in a rush to the extremities of her body, leaving a heated glow in its wake when it finally ebbed.

The rest of her washing was quick but thorough as she tried to avoid brushing sensitive spots. She had gotten side-tracked over the need for a good wash.

When it was all over, she turned off the shower and out, drying herself vigorously. She had washed off more than dirt and oil - she had washed off the detritus of a life. In the mirror of the bathroom, she was still too thin, but her skin was touched with a delicate rose blush and her hair shone with blue highlights.

She had always known that she possessed enhanced looks, but had rarely spent time wearing her own face, let alone looking at it. In the slant of her eyes, lacking epicanthic folds, and the rosebud of her lips, she saw her mother. Almost forgotten, Lei Xian lived in the fine bones of her daughter's face. Harold and Sarah Rais had sought to change her in their own image to a certain degree - Lei Xian was a woman who loved to laugh and enjoy herself, a woman who spent time with men. Harold had slept with her. When she had seen him last, he had been thinking about it. She had not yet confessed to Nan Ho that she had left America for a little while and returned home. But she had come back.

Lei Xian's daughter had focused more on the Confucian side of the mixed beliefs they had shared, mostly to please her new father and mother. They despaired of making a good Christian of her, but accepted her when she was being dutiful and obedient. And look where dutiful and obedient had gotten her.

The woman in the mirror had small breasts, tipped with almond-brown nipples, and an ethereal beauty. Was this the woman Nan Ho had seen? She hoped so.

A black collar around her neck slowly melted over her body, concealing the nakedness she had displayed for the mirror ... and Nan Ho. She had taken other lovers, usually under another face or from the colleagues she had worked with, but nothing had been emotional. Either she was pumping for information or trying to find some kind of release from the stress of her life. Love had never come into it.

Until Nan Ho.

She loved him. Shining and golden, she loved him. Since her mother, he had been the only one concerned for her wellbeing, for her sake. Not for the work she could do.

Earlier in the chat, she had given him her new name. Li Ai Jun Yen. Beauty, Love, Truthful, Yearning. The things she was, the things she wanted, the things she really could not say was in what category.

She was still confused. But there was no going back.

No going back. With that thought, she opened the window and left behind her OpNet device, clinging to the outside wall as she climbed down from her room in the howling wind.