Nancy Collins

“Then Er Lang was looking at me ruefully. “You have taken at least fifty years of my life!”
I was stricken. “Take it back!”
“I can’t. But fortunately, my life span is many times yours.”
“How long can a dragon live?”
“A thousand years, if he is lucky. Not all of us are, of course.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, my gaze was drawn to the strong line of his throat. If he had given me blood, I would surely have killed him. But Er Lang was struggling to sit up.
“I should have stopped you sooner. Though I now understand why men succumb to ghosts.” He spoke lightly, but my ears blazed with mortification.
“You were the one who put your tongue in my mouth!” I blurted out, regretting it instantly. To talk about other people’s tongues was the worst, revealing the depths of my inexperience. And yet, the memory of his made me shiver and burn, as though I had a fever. It hadn’t been like this with Tian Bai; it was easy to understand where I stood with him. But he had been courting me, whereas Er Lang was an entirely different commodity. We did not have that sort of relationship, I reminded myself.
But he merely gave me a wry glance. “I was a little carried away.”
“Thank you,” I said at last. I realized it was the first time I had thanked him formally.”
― Yangsze Choo, The Ghost Bride

“I might like to have someone courting me. But it would have to be someone who is a square shooter and who has a train load of courage. And it would have to be someone who doesn't have to talk down to folks to feel good, or to tell a person they are worthless ifthey just made a mistake. And he'd have to be not too thin. Why, I remember hugging [my brother] Ernest was like warpping your arms around a fence post,and I love Ernest, but I want a man who can hold me down in a wind. Maybe he'd have to be pretty stubborn. I don't have any use for a man that isn't stubborn. Likely a stubborn fellow will stay with you through thick and thin, and a spineless one will take off, or let his heart wander.”
― Nancy E. Turner, These Is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine, 1881-1901

“Er Lang examined his shoes in dismay. “You should have told me there was mud down here.”
“Is that all you can say?” But I was glad, so glad to see him that I hugged him tightly. Despite his concern about his shoes, he didn’t seem to mind as I pressed my grimy face against his shoulder.
“Last time it was a cemetery, and now the bottom of a well,” he remarked. “What were you doing anyway?”
As I explained, his tone became icy. “So, you saved a murderer and let yourself be abandoned. Do you have some sort of death wish?”
“Why are you so angry?” Pushing back his hat, I searched his face. It was a mistake, for faced with his unnerving good looks, I could only drop my eyes.
“You might have broken your neck. Why can’t you leave these things to the proper authorities?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Incredibly, we were arguing again. “And where were you all this time? You could have sent me a message!”
“How was I supposed to do that when you never left the house alone?”
“But you could have come at any time. I was waiting for you!”
Er Lang was incensed. “Is this the thanks I get?”
If I had thought it through, I would never have done it. But I grasped the collar of his rope and pulled his face to mine. “Thank you,” I said, and kissed him.
I meant to break away at once, but he caught me, his hand behind my head.
“Are you going to complain about this?” he demanded.
Wordlessly, I shook my head. My face reddened, remembering my awkward remarks about tongues last time. He must have recalled them as well, for he gave me an inscrutable look.
“Open your mouth then.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to put my tongue in.”
That he could joke at a time like this was really unbelievable. Despite my outrage, however, I flung myself into his arms. Half laughing, half furious, I pressed my mouth fiercely against his. He pinned me against the well shaft. The stone chilled my back through my wet clothes, but my skin burned where he held my wrists. Gasping, I could feel the heat of him as his tongue slipped inside. My pulse raced; my body trembled uncontrollably. There was only the hard pressure of his mouth, the slick thrust of his tongue. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. A river was melting in me, my core dissolving like wax in his arms. My ears hummed, I could only hear the rasping of our breaths, the hammering of my heart. A stifled moan escaped my lips. He gave a long sigh and broke away.”
― Yangsze Choo, The Ghost Bride

“In the darkness of a thousand
withered souls, it was Er Lang’s hand that I
sought, and his voice that I longed to hear. Perhaps
it is selfish of me, but an uncertain future
with him, in all its laughter and quarrels, is better
than being left behind.”
― Yangsze Choo, The Ghost Bride