I stand in the courtyard of Sir Denis Nayland Smith's mansion, which is now my mansion, and I contemplate the sunrise.

In a few minutes, I will be contemplating my wife.

It is a tribute to her that I am not certain which of the two is the greater pleasure.

I am approaching sixty years of age now.  It has been many years since the death of my father, the great Fu Manchu, at my hands.  I think about that incident no more than I have to now, and I am gratified the Si-Fan's attempt to clone him came to naught.  Smith and Petrie, who were his greatest foes, and whose lives had been preserved by a dosage of my father's elixir when once they were his captives, did not survive him long.

Without my father in the world, Smith seemed unhappy.  I can understand this.  He was happy when he died, and this, in turn, made Petrie happy, and he in turn died content in the arms of his wife, Karamaneh.

To me, in turn, fell the task of administering the Restorations Group, which I have done these past fifteen years.  I fight my battles on the practice mat, for the most part, and use others as my far-off hands to do the things I did directly, in my youth.  It is a good enough life, made full by my wife, my children, and those whom I count my closest friends.  Among them I number Reston, Tarr, Fury, and Fury's wife Val.  There are others.  But for a man in my position, perhaps it is safest that I limit my closest friendships.  Safest for my friends' lives, and for their hearts.

Now I must use glasses to read by, though I do not stoop nor use a cane.  Sometimes my hands pain me at night.  My wind and endurance are not what they once were, but I do not expect them to be.  From young practicioner, I have become the aged sensei.  And such was meant to be.

I turn and reenter the house, that Victorian mansion laced within and without by the latest security devices.  Some might say that even walking outside at sunrise is a risk for me, that old enemies or their descendants might choose to drop from the sky or target me with a sniper's bullet.  But I think that dying at sunrise might be a peaceful thing, and I will not be the caged bird.

A nunber of steps brings me down the hall, and I unlock a door to the gymnasium.  I step in, relock it, and quietly sit in a lotus position in my robe and pajamas just inside.  Within is my wife, Leiko.

She, too, has felt the hand of Age.  But what it takes from her in one area, which is physicality, it kindly gives back to her in another, which is wisdom, maturity, and affection.  Her hair may be grayed now, but her figure is still appealing, the wrinkles on her face are forgiveable, and she still rouses parts of me to their ancient duty as I watch her doing Tai Chi with a bo staff in her purple bodysuit.

I notice the hand which was a gift to her, from a Caucasian woman who was killed in an automobile accident.  We blessed the woman for her gift, the family for allowing it, and the surgeon who did the graft these twenty-five years ago.  When Leiko lost her first hand, there was no surgery capable of gifting her with a new one, so she wore a prosthesis.  Then, a few years later, such surgery was pioneered, and we had her placed on a list for such consideration.  After the giving was made, when she awoke, with me at her bedside, she contemplated it and said, "Well, Shang, we have even more in common now.  We're both mixed!"  And so we were, for my mother was white as was the woman who gave her her precious hand.  To their family we made gifts of money, and to the surgeons who did this thing we gave endowments, that more such surgeries should be made.

Now she sees me, while assuming a crane position, and smiles.  "Hello, Shang.  Enjoying the view?"

"Nigh forty years ago, Leiko," I say, "when I first saw you in my bathtub, to the pleasures of seeing sunrise and sunset each day, I added seeing you.  None of the three pleasures has dimmed in my estimation."

She beams, and then adds, "I just hope the sun doesn't have to work as hard as I do to keep its butt from sagging."  She continues.

As I watch her, I wonder why my father feared the approach of years the way he did.  I know why he used the youth elixir, of course, for he felt he had a great task ahead of him and would not entrust it (the conquest of the world) to any of his lieutenants, or to his offspring (myself and my half-sister, Fah Lo Suee).  Thus, he used the elixir, and was still young and vital in body when he died.  But his mind was that of an aged, ruthless old man, who had learned all but kindness.

Sometimes I wondered if Smith were not more like him than he knew, when he died.

But my father had no life-partner.  My mother he abandoned, once I was born.  He had concubines, but paid them little regard besides common courtesy.  Fah had become his rival long ago.  I believe he meant me to help fill the void in his life, to keep him from being lonely, just as much as he meant me to be a living weapon (which I was, and, to some extent, still am).  But such was not meant to be, and we chose different paths, and we fought.

And in the last of those fights, I killed him.

I force such thoughts from my mind by watching Leiko.  She is my life-partner, and has been since shortly after joining Smith's band so many years ago.  Her old lover, Clive Reston, is one of my closest aides now.  Reston's father found that amusing, for he had been one of the greatest agents of M.I.5 in his time, and his son was now working for the son of one of M.I.5's greatest enemies.  But Reston, too, is married, and has grandchildren of his own.

I hear the chime of a phone.  Leiko hears it, too, executing a complex kata most women half her age could not attempt.  "Do not pause, Leiko," I assure her, and rise to take care of it myself.

The ringing of a phone here is usually a serious thing.  Only a few of my employees or friends, or those who are both, have my private number.  Enemies, of course, have a way of getting such information.  But, thus far, they have not used it, if they have it.  I walk to my inner study and, on a communications board, press a lighted button.

A voice comes from the intercom speaker.  "Chi, it's Reston," says a voice.  "Hate to break in on you like this, but it's something for you, directly."

"Tell me, Clive," I say, wondering which friend or foe is summoning me.

"It's your sister.  Fah Lo Suee.  She wants to take a meeting with you.  Won't say about what.  She wants Leiko with you.  I think you should let me and my boys ride shotgun on this."  He waits for my response.  He does not have to mention that the Si Fan, with whom she is peripherally involved, still consider me unfinished business.

"Tell me where," I say.

 *****

As it transpires, Fah wishes to meet in an outdoor restaurant.  We have run a check on it, and found no underworld ties, which is reassuring.  But the Si Fan have ways sometimes even beyond my knowing.  So I allow Reston's men to watch, from a distance.

I do not doubt my sister has made similar arrangements.

Leiko and I are sitting at the table when Fah makes her entrance.  Heads turn at her arrival.  Mine among them.  Leiko does not miss that.

Fah Lo Suee comes to our table, over 20 years my senior, and she looks not a day over 25.

Her hair is done in a style which compromises well between traditional and current-smart.  Her makeup would shame most models on a runway.  Her dress shows enough flesh to activate the generative organs of most men who look upon her, and to make the women who see her do so through a filter of jealousy.  Her bare feet are visible through clear sandals.  With her, she carries an oddly-shaped purse.  I suspect a weapon within it, and, as it turns out, I will be correct.

She smiles upon seeing me.  "Good day, Shang.  It has been some time, has it not?"

"Not long enough," mutters Leiko, with an unkind look.

"Good day to you as well, sister," I reply.  "Over ten years, as I recall."

A maitre-d pulls her chair into position for her and holds her menu as she indicates which wine she will be having, along with what lunch she will partake.  "I'll cover the cost of this," she says to me with a look of diplomacy.

"We pay our own way," I reply, and wait.

Leiko's fingers curl about my arm.  They are welcome partners.

After my sister is served with wine and the waiter is gone, she comes to the point of discussion.  "We are not enemies anymore, Shang.  Nor are we, Leiko."

Neither of us say anything in response.

Fah, as beautiful as the day I first saw her in my boyhood, continues.  "However, I cannot speak for the Si-Fan when I say that.  They have asked me to speak to you, and such I have agreed to."

"The Si Fan can go to hell," states Leiko, firmly.

"Perhaps they are already in hell, sister-in-law, but do not think they cannot drag you down there as well," Fah retorts, as firmly as Leiko.  "If they're so inclined.  But let me speak my piece."

I hold my tongue and await her next words.

"There are advantages to being in hell, if you are its ruler," continues Fah.  "Their direction is not as firm as in the days when our father ruled them.  They will not accept me as his successor, nor do I wish it.  Nor do they expect your answer directly, for they know your nature.  But they have sent me to broach the topic, and to allow you to think upon it."

After a pause, I say, "Give the brotherhood my thanks and sincerest apologies. But tell them I already have a job.  Hell is a responsibility I will leave to others."

Leiko is proud of me.  I can tell by the way her fingers touch my arm at this moment.  She speaks more clearly with body than with voice.

Fah leans more closely, now, and the calculated display of her breasts makes Leiko feel the unfairness of difference between Fah's older-but-younger figure and her own younger-but-older form.  I am not insensible to such temptations, but this is, after all, my half-sister.  Fah speaks.

"Others may find themselves caught in such a war, they tell me," she says, seriously.  "Others, who are children."

The import of her words is not lost upon me.  "The cubs of the tiger have claws also," I say, fixing her with my gaze.  "And, should they fall, one must be prepared for the tiger's vengeance."

"And the tigress's," says Leiko, quietly but with deadly import.

Fah sighs and affects a smile.  "You need not direct such words at me, Shang.  You well know that I would be loath to make war upon you, who are my brother, nor you, Leiko, who are his wife, and that I certainly have no intention to strike at your cubs, or at their cubs in turn.  But, as I say, I do not control the Si Fan."

"If they harm my children, or their children in turn, then shortly thereafter there will be no Si Fan," I reply.

This is only partly heroic bluff.  On paper, my father's old organization has much more power than my own.  But I dealt them terrible blows in my youth, and would deal them such to the full extent of my power if such a scenario was enacted.  And I have allies, such as Fury of SHIELD, who would stand beside me.  This, Fah Lo Suee knows.

"I have not come here to threaten, my brother," she says.  "I have come to bargain."

From the strange-looking purse she takes a weapon.

A vial full of clear liquid.

"Do you recognize this?" she says.

How could I not?

"The elixir vitae," I say, looking at it intently.

Now I know the extent to which she will go to tempt me.

"Such has kept the hands of time from me for all these years," she says.  "Thanks to my father's gift, my beauty is unchanged, perhaps increased.  I may have a lover any day of the week."

"It must be tiring," says Leiko, acidly.

"Perhaps," says Fah, looking at her.  "But not as tiring, I think, as the body you currently wear, Leiko.  And you could have one like mine.  Or perhaps better.  The elixir not only preserves life, it revitalizes.  It restores youth."

"It binds one to continue in its application," I interject.  "If not taken when the required time draws near, the user will find his former age restored, and the years he has escaped will suddenly find him."

"Just so," agrees Fah.  "But think of it, Shang.  Think of the pleasures you could revisit.  No, let me talk, and do not interrupt me.  Do you recall the feats you were capable of, when you were young?  When you were the one they called the Master of Kung Fu?  You faced down whole divisions of opponents, and laid them waste, with only your own body and, on occasion, staff or nunchuks.  You escaped every trap set for you, defeated any foe our father sent against you, and those he did not.  You stopped him from pulling the moon out of orbit.  You triumphed over him again and again.  And, Shang--this much, and more, is open to you again.  All for the swallowing of this elixir."
I say nothing.  I recall those days.

She turns her attention now to Leiko.  "And you, dear Leiko, the offer is to you as well.  Please, allow me to speak.  I recall your beauty, of old, the sort which could ‘raise a stone', as the saying has it.  Even I was not unaffected by it.  And your body, and its skills, which were almost the equal of your husband's--ah!  Don't believe for a moment that I was not jealous of your fighting prowess.  But more than that, Leiko, this is the doorway to pleasure again.  You may love as a youth again, not as an old woman.  You may bear more children, if such is your desire.  And you may see them, and their children's children, and many more generations beyond, while having the love of youth with your husband, for hundreds of years."

Leiko said nothing.  Did I read her body correctly? Was she, too, feeling temptation?

Fah continued, "All of this, my brother, my sister-in-law.  It can be had.  They merely ask you to consider their offer.  This first is free.  But for the second, and those beyond, a price must be paid."

She took my wineglass, uncorked the vial, and poured it in my glass.  Then she set it back before me again.

"Immortality, Shang.  The doorway to youth.  Take it."

For a long moment, I said nothing.  Neither did Leiko.  I think I heard her breathing, but I cannot be certain.

Finally, Fah said, "Well?"

In response, I turned my head back and said, "Waiter."

The maitre-d was at my elbow within three seconds.  "Yes, Mr. Chi."

I held out my wineglass to him.  "I have left the wine here too long while conversing.  It has gone a bit flat.  Please open us another bottle."

"But of course, sir," he said.  And he took the glass back with him.

I hope he, or whoever drank the wine that night, enjoyed the gift.

I did not miss Leiko's sigh, nor the loving pressure she put upon my arm.

Nor did I miss Fah Lo Suee's look of venom.

"I see," she said, at last. "I shall inform them of your response.  Perhaps they shall only wait till you are too old to present a threat, Shang-Chi."

"Perhaps that would be a wise decision," I reply.  "Though at what age that would be, I am not prepared to say."

Leiko added, "And even as young as you look to be, Fah--I wouldn't find you threatening in the least."

She blanched.  "We shall see."  She stood up.  "Enjoy your meal, brother."  She did not look at me as she left.

After she was gone, Leiko said, "Thank you, Shang."

"You are to be thanked, Leiko," I said.  "Had we made such a bargain, the sunrise would seem a bit dimmer every day, the sunset would be a bit less majestic, and your beauty, whatever it seemed on the surface, would be much diminished below it."

She had almost finished kissing me when the meal arrived.

 ****
This one's for Doug, Paul, and, if she chances to read it, Cat.

All characters in this story are property of Marvel Comics.  No money is being made from this story and no infringement is intended.

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