tonight my son will be conceived; perhaps in the garden, the soil will be fruitful."
If he had the courage, he would carry Yuhan out into the garden, that he might possess her as the storm broke in all its fury.
He strode hurriedly toward her apartment. The door was open. Breathlessly he stepped into the room. Within, it was so quiet, it might have been the Pavilion of Enchanted Peace. In accordance with his wishes, Yuhan had retired. Above the bed, blue lanterns burned. Near by a wisp of white smoke rose in serpentine spirals from a bronze incense bowl. The air was heavy with sandalwood and musk, for like most Chinese, Prince Shou preferred musk to any other fragrance with the exception of the natural aroma of slender women with skin like the petals of flowers, women who were versed in every art of make-up and physical allurement.
On a small table beside the bed, stood a red lacquer dish filled with pears and pomegranates. Occasionally, Prince Shou liked to munch fruit when his forces were temporarily spent and he waited for a new burst of strength.
He hesitated for a moment only, then with trembling hands, he drew aside the jeweled curtains of her couch. The sight before him would have caused a poet to burst into song. She wore a thin silk robe that clung caressingly to her body. The top button had come
open, releasing her breasts, ripe for kisses. With a low
