Read Online My Asian Dragon: A BWAM Romance Story by R S Holloway, Para Romance Club, BWWM Romance Club - Free Book Online
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was a
fastidious cleaner. The bathroom and bedroom area also were scrubbed
relatively clean. Finally, in the kitchen, next to the refrigerator,
he thought he found something. A notepad, the type that people used
to write down quick messages on the phone or shopping lists. When he
picked it up to the light, he could see that it had been used
recently, the paper on top still bore the imprints of writing.
Curious
to try something he had once seen in a movie, the man took a pencil
and knife out of his pocket. He shaved off graphite dust and
carefully scattered it over the paper. It took him a few minutes of
tapping and work, but he could see English letters start to form over
the page. Thankfully, this was why his boss had put him on the job of
following the American journalist, his English was better than many
of the other Triads.
"Gauze....
rubbing alcohol..... DVD for Longwei....." the man read, the
last part catching his attention. He called his boss on his phone,
shifting back into Chinese. "Sir?
Yeah, it's me. Listen, she's got a name on here, one you told me to
keep my eyes out for. I found a shopping list, and the name Longwei
appears on here. Yeah? Okay, I'll bring the paper. Heading back now."
The
man scooped up the pad of paper and left the apartment. Whoever this
Longwei person was that the American was apparently mixed up with,
sort of saddened the man. He had been tasked with watching the
American since the first of her articles had come out, and had come
to appreciate the uniqueness of her beauty in a city of Chinese. More
than once he had watched her through binoculars at night in her
apartment, clad in nothing but light pajamas. Yet, if the boss' tone
was correct, he wouldn't be able to see the chocolate skinned beauty
again.
She
soon would be dead.
Chapter 5
Joy
wiped her sleeve across her forehead. She had been tasked to work in
the vegetable fields today, and had spent the past four hours working
on her hands and knees, carefully weeding in between the rows, making
sure the field was as pristine as possible.
She
wasn't alone, there were four other people with her. Two of them were
members of Yingtai's family, while the other two were older children
from the school. Longwei had a policy of letting the children help
out in the fields one day a week, in order to let them get hands on
practical experience as well as academic learning. "Besides,"
he had explained to her, "the fresh air and exercise is very
useful for their bodies."
Joy
didn't know about the educational benefits, but she did enjoy the
outdoor work. The villagers had a very unique style, while perhaps
not the most efficient in the short term, ensured that everyone moved
around on a regular basis, avoiding the dreaded crouching posture
that she had seen so many other poor Asian farmers adopt. Few if any
of the older women in the village had the bowed osteoporosis laden
body she had seen even in Shanghai.
Looking
up the row, Joy saw the large barrel on a cart that served as their
watering point. The oxen used for pulling the cart were gone, but
would be brought back later. She got up off the ground, exchanging
waves with the other people in the field. She still had problems
speaking much more than basic Mandarin, but she thought her ears were
finally becoming attuned to the local dialect. She could understand
some of the basic greetings and words, and was grateful to the school
children who had sort of adopted her as one of their own. Two of the
students, a boy named Dewei and a girl named Ming had worked with her
almost every day, slowly and carefully pronouncing words in
storybooks and around the classroom for her. She copied, making many
mistakes, but was making progress.
At
the water barrel, Joy dipped in her cup and took a deep drink of the
clear water. It was another thing she had quickly gotten used to.
Even without the so-called benefits of modern water treatment plants,
the water from the wells in the village was pristine. Wiping
fastidious cleaner. The bathroom and bedroom area also were scrubbed
relatively clean. Finally, in the kitchen, next to the refrigerator,
he thought he found something. A notepad, the type that people used
to write down quick messages on the phone or shopping lists. When he
picked it up to the light, he could see that it had been used
recently, the paper on top still bore the imprints of writing.
Curious
to try something he had once seen in a movie, the man took a pencil
and knife out of his pocket. He shaved off graphite dust and
carefully scattered it over the paper. It took him a few minutes of
tapping and work, but he could see English letters start to form over
the page. Thankfully, this was why his boss had put him on the job of
following the American journalist, his English was better than many
of the other Triads.
"Gauze....
rubbing alcohol..... DVD for Longwei....." the man read, the
last part catching his attention. He called his boss on his phone,
shifting back into Chinese. "Sir?
Yeah, it's me. Listen, she's got a name on here, one you told me to
keep my eyes out for. I found a shopping list, and the name Longwei
appears on here. Yeah? Okay, I'll bring the paper. Heading back now."
The
man scooped up the pad of paper and left the apartment. Whoever this
Longwei person was that the American was apparently mixed up with,
sort of saddened the man. He had been tasked with watching the
American since the first of her articles had come out, and had come
to appreciate the uniqueness of her beauty in a city of Chinese. More
than once he had watched her through binoculars at night in her
apartment, clad in nothing but light pajamas. Yet, if the boss' tone
was correct, he wouldn't be able to see the chocolate skinned beauty
again.
She
soon would be dead.
Chapter 5
Joy
wiped her sleeve across her forehead. She had been tasked to work in
the vegetable fields today, and had spent the past four hours working
on her hands and knees, carefully weeding in between the rows, making
sure the field was as pristine as possible.
She
wasn't alone, there were four other people with her. Two of them were
members of Yingtai's family, while the other two were older children
from the school. Longwei had a policy of letting the children help
out in the fields one day a week, in order to let them get hands on
practical experience as well as academic learning. "Besides,"
he had explained to her, "the fresh air and exercise is very
useful for their bodies."
Joy
didn't know about the educational benefits, but she did enjoy the
outdoor work. The villagers had a very unique style, while perhaps
not the most efficient in the short term, ensured that everyone moved
around on a regular basis, avoiding the dreaded crouching posture
that she had seen so many other poor Asian farmers adopt. Few if any
of the older women in the village had the bowed osteoporosis laden
body she had seen even in Shanghai.
Looking
up the row, Joy saw the large barrel on a cart that served as their
watering point. The oxen used for pulling the cart were gone, but
would be brought back later. She got up off the ground, exchanging
waves with the other people in the field. She still had problems
speaking much more than basic Mandarin, but she thought her ears were
finally becoming attuned to the local dialect. She could understand
some of the basic greetings and words, and was grateful to the school
children who had sort of adopted her as one of their own. Two of the
students, a boy named Dewei and a girl named Ming had worked with her
almost every day, slowly and carefully pronouncing words in
storybooks and around the classroom for her. She copied, making many
mistakes, but was making progress.
At
the water barrel, Joy dipped in her cup and took a deep drink of the
clear water. It was another thing she had quickly gotten used to.
Even without the so-called benefits of modern water treatment plants,
the water from the wells in the village was pristine. Wiping
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