The Rebellion Engines

by Jeannie Lin

  “That’s good to see,” Mother assured.

  I took another sip. Swallowed deliberately.

  “Your father and I have known Chang-wei since he was very young. About the same age as Tian is now. He was almost like a son.”

  I’d heard all of this in some way or another, but that had been before I’d known who Chang-wei was as a person. We weren’t allowed to see one another after our marriage was formally set up. Probably so he wouldn’t think of me as only a child when we finally did meet. He’d passed the imperial examination and Father had arranged for us to be wed when I came of age.

  Hearing my mother repeat the story now warmed me. In some ways, Chang-wei had known my family, my father and mother, better than I had. He’d known them before the war. Before my father’s execution. Before my mother’s addiction to opium.

  “He reminds me a little of your father,” Mother said.

  I blushed even more furiously.

  “Clever,” she went on, not noticing. “And determined.”

  There was warmth in Mother’s eyes. She reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear, something I couldn’t remember her doing since I was very young.

  “The last ten years have been difficult,” she acknowledged.

  “But everything is better now.” It was a question as much as a response. Our family was back in Peking. Tian was going to attend the Academy.

  Slowly, Mother nodded.

  We finished our meal. Mother spoke of how Tian was doing. My younger brother was attending a school in Peking for lessons in astronomy and mathematics.

  At the end of the evening, Mother invited me to stay in her chamber that night and we prepared for bed. I watched as she took the pins out of her hair. As she let it down, I could almost see a vision of the past. My mother, young and ambitious. Willfully chasing her own dreams.

  Mother had left her family to go to Peking and enroll in the Academy. She’d been completely alone and fending for herself when she’d met my father. She’d turned away from her parents, never to see her family again. In contrast, thoughts of my family and my duty to them were never far away.

  “It’s fortunate that you were able to come, Mother,” I told her. “I miss you and Tian.”

  She smiled faintly. “I asked to come. Kuo was convinced it was a good idea.”

  I arranged my sleeping pallet beside hers. “I didn’t realize you and Chief Engineer Kuo had such a…a close association.” Saying it aloud put a sick feeling in my stomach.

  “I’ve been helping him and he’s been helping me as well. Can you fetch my comb, Soling?”

  As I reached into her pack for the wooden comb, I noticed a handful of small yellow packets of paper, folded in little squares at the bottom of the pack. I stared at them, my heart pounding out a dangerous rhythm. I picked up one of the packets and ran it between my fingers, feeling for the contents inside.

  “Can you find it?”

  I jumped, startled. “Here it is.”

  I grabbed the comb and handed it to her, trying to calm myself, but it was no use. Mother pulled the comb through her long hair while I laid down on my pallet, staring up at the ceiling and unsure of what to do next. What to say.

  Inside the packets were two hard, round tabs. Pills.

  “At first, I was worried you were going so far away,” Mother said, setting her comb down and turning down the lamp. The room went dark. I could hear her shifting on the mat as she lay down. “But then, I thought of how I was your age when I left my family to go to the Academy. I was only nineteen years old.”

  “Mother, I’m twenty-one years old now,” I replied absently.

  “Oh really? So old?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where has the time gone?”

  The next morning, the officials were to make their tour of the factory facilities. I left Mother after our morning tea to hurry back to my office. Inside my pocket was a yellow packet I’d managed to slip out of my mother’s belongings.

  Only when I was shut away inside the office did I dare to unfold the paper. Inside were two white pills. The inscription on the packet indicated they were opium cessation pills. Pills like this were distributed in opium refuges and dispensaries in larger cities.

  I didn’t know what to think of my mother trading one substance for another. She seemed better, but all of my old doubts and fears came back and I started to panic. I needed to return to Peking. I needed to be there to take care of her and my brother — but then I stopped myself.

  I wasn’t a child anymore. I could talk to my mother about this. Still, the thought of confronting her made me so nervous. I folded the packet back into a square and tucked it into my pocket.

  Outside, the morning gong was sounding for the workers to make their way to the factories. I could see the groups moving from the village toward the facilities. It was time for me to make my rounds.

  Inside the infirmary, Little Guo was propped up in bed. His wound was on the mend and he was back for the follow-up procedure. An engineer from the citadel had come to take measurements for the mechanical leg. I waited for him to finish and take his leave before approaching.

  The youth was able to push himself into a sitting position using his elbows. He was in much better spirits than the last I’d seen him.

  “Yishi Jin,” he greeted. “Thank you for this. Jiang told me all you had done. If not for you, they would be sending me home as a cripple.”

  “Where is your home?” I asked, sitting down on the stool beside him.

  “Sichuan province. I’ve been away for a long time.”

  “You’ve been at the Factories for less than a year,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, seven months now.” His face may have held the rounded innocence of youth, but his eyes were shrewd and intelligent.

  I continued with the acupuncture session while he watched me with a look of intense concentration. It was good to see the incision from the amputation was healing. There was no further loss of feeling or mobility in his leg.

  “The engineers will be able to start fitting you with your leg soon.”

  “My leg,” he echoed. “It sounds strange to say that.”

  “It will feel strange at first, but you’ll adapt quickly.”

  He nodded, his hand straying to the token that he wore around his neck. The same wooden carving I’d seen right after the accident.

  “Is that from your family?” I asked.

  Guo tucked it back into his tunic. “A souvenir,” he said, then turned the conversation back to me. “Yishi, you’ve been gone for the last few days.”

  “A lot of official business to see to.”

  He nodded, his dark eyes remaining fixed on me. “I heard there was another accident.”

  I kept my expression neutral. The only accident he could have been talking about was the incident with the automaton, but the happenings at the citadel were kept secret.

  “What have you heard?”

  “That there was a machine malfunction. The engineers at the citadel lost control of one of their…inventions.”

  I leveled my gaze at him. “Even engineers make mistakes. Fortunately, everything was brought under control quickly.”

  “Good thing that no one was hurt.”

  Except for the man who was killed. And Kai had been thrown across the yard. I felt a pang in my chest but said nothing. I had the distinct impression the boy was testing me.

  “You’re interested in machines,” I ventured.

  He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  Poor farm boy from Sichuan, indeed. “You remind me of my brother. He was always fascinated by mechanical things. I wonder with such an interest in machinery, why weren’t you assigned as an operator? Seems to be a waste to have you in maintenance.”

  “Who cares what a young fool like me wants?” His mouth curled cynically, making him suddenly appear much older. “I’m small and can slip into places. One goes where he fits. In any case, an operator’s job doesn’t require so much knowledge, does it
?”

  “Oh?”

  “Pull a lever. Check a valve. The same repetitive job over and over.”

  “You can learn how everything works,” I suggested lightly.

  “What’s really interesting isn’t what’s built in the factories,” Guo insisted. “It’s what happens afterward.”

  “What happens afterward?”

  Guo smiled a little. “With all those little parts. I suppose it’s a mystery.”

  I left Guo a little while later and searched out Kai who was attempting to move a crate of supplies into the storage room despite having his ribs wrapped tight.

  “What are you doing?” I chided, rushing over to support the weight of the crate in my much smaller arms.

  “It’s not so heavy,” Kai insisted.

  “You’re a bone-setter. You know how you need to rest to heal.”

  He graced me with a crooked smile. I ordered him to go and get some rest, but stopped him as he started to leave.

  “Kai, did you tell anyone about what happened at the citadel?”

  His grin faded to be replaced with a serious look. He came back to me, lowering his voice before speaking. “I said nothing. I know how secretive the factory authority is about what we’re building here. But the others—”

  We had rushed to the citadel with a small crew. Surely, it wasn’t a serious problem. There were always rumors and whisperings of what we were doing. But still, rumors were different from confirmed knowledge.

  “Is there a problem, Yishi?”

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Get some rest and heal up.”

  “Happy to get the day off.” He grinned and granted me a bow before leaving.

  It was mid-day when I saw my mother again. She was speaking to Chang-wei outside of the offices and they appeared deep in conversation. Chang-wei had his head bowed solicitously. Mother presented a much smaller figure beside him, wearing her official robe and headdress that marked her as part of the imperial entourage.

  He was always courteous when addressing Mother. I’d heard it from more than one person, including from my own mother, that my father had treated Chang-wei like a son, but I knew nothing about Chang-wei’s actual family.

  He never spoke of family. When he spoke of his past, it was always about Peking and his time at the Academy and the Ministry. Occasionally, he would mention being abducted and taken to the West.

  Our pasts had intertwined long before we met. They involved the same people. The same events had torn our lives apart in different ways, but there was still so much I didn’t know about him.

  They both looked over at the same time to see me watching them. Chang-wei took a step back as I approached and I thought I saw a spot of color on his cheeks. I had to have been mistaken. I looked over to Mother whose smooth features revealed nothing.

  “Soling,” she said, taking my arm. “Engineer Chen and I were speaking of the developments over the past year,” Mother began. “And how much progress has been made.”

  “Perhaps less progress than the Directorate would like,” I replied. “Some call Engineer Chen overly cautious, but he always has everyone’s best interests in mind.”

  Chang-wei was giving me a strange look and I shot him a small frown, trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

  Mother gave my arm a squeeze. Now something most certainly was amiss. Mother rarely showed such open affection and definitely not in public.

  “Daughter,” she continued warmly. “I am glad I was able to come and see you.”

  I inquired about the factory inspection briefly, but the entire time I was thinking of the packet of pills I’d found in her things.

  “So, what were you two discussing?” I asked.

  Oddly, Chang-wei stiffened.

  “Jin Furen,” he intoned, using the traditional honorific to address my mother. “Soling.”

  He lingered over my name and I felt a little lurch in the pit of my stomach.

  “If I may take my leave now.” He bowed toward Mother, gave a small nod to me, and then headed off quickly in the direction of the citadel.

  “He’s been worried about his work in the citadel,” I explained, trying to account for Chang-wei’s anxious behavior.

  Mother followed his retreat with her eyes. “He really does remind me of your father.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  Mother didn’t answer directly. “Be careful of losing yourself in another’s ambitions,” was all she said.

  We continued, still arm in arm, to the offices.

  “Chang-wei doesn’t have to worry so much about proving himself,” Mother continued as I led her inside. “Kuo Lishen recognizes his talent.”

  “How involved are you with the war council’s review, Mother?”

  She seemed to know so much about what was happening inside the council.

  “I know nothing of those politics,” my mother insisted. “I just know Kuo Lishen. He is one who has always recognized the talents of others, as compensation for lacking any talent of his own.”

  Kuo again. What was my mother’s connection with the Chief Engineer?

  “You said you were helping him, and he was helping you. What does that mean?”

  She sighed, wandering over to the bookshelf. I’d forgotten how much Mother loved books. Too bad there were nothing but ledgers and records there. We hadn’t kept many books after leaving Peking, but now that we had returned, perhaps she could gradually build up her collection.

  “Your mother needs something to occupy herself, Soling. If there’s nothing ahead but the emptiness of the hours, my mind wanders.”

  Mother touched a hand to the ledgers, but her mind was far away. In her voice, I sensed that same vulnerability that always filled me with dread. She was thinking of the past. Thinking of the things that she’d lost. My hand trembled as I reached for the pills in my pocket.

  “Have you been taking these?” I asked, pulling out the folded yellow paper.

  She turned to stare at the packet in my hand.

  “I found these in your belongings, Mother.”

  “Your mother only has those in case she needs them,” she replied, retreating into formal tones.

  I realized what had me so shaken about the cessation pills. It was the reminder that no matter how vibrant she appeared, my mother was still fragile. She was still fighting her addiction.

  “I know it’s not easy,” I said.

  My instinct was to caution her against trading one vice for another, but the effect of the cessation pills was supposed to be milder than that of opium smoke. At least, that was the opinion of those who trusted in them. I started to hand the pills back to her.

  “I haven’t needed them,” Mother assured me, looking directly in my eyes. “And I won’t need them.”

  Her confidence had me more worried than the pills. It echoed the glimmer of hope I would feel whenever Mother would try to stop smoking opium in the past. The moments of clarity would never last. I had stopped believing long ago, but I had to leave those doubts behind us now.

  “It was Kuo Lishen who insisted I procure the pills,” she said, coming back over. “I told him the same thing — I don’t need them.”

  She became focused again, calling for a clerk to fetch some records. It was quite unsettling to see my mother in command.

  “These production numbers are fundamental to understanding how the factory has been operating,” she told me. “And Chief Engineer Kuo wants to review the engineering designs.”

  “You’ll be assisting him with that as well?”

  “Along with someone from the Ministry. Kuo Lishen was never one for details,” Mother said with a rueful smile. “He was always better at communicating with the imperial court.”

  A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. Kuo had been part of the Ministry of Science under my father. If his role was to communicate with the imperial court back then, how was it that my father took the blame for our defenses failing? And then Kuo was elevated to Chief En
gineer in the aftermath.

  Was he doing the same thing now? Using Chang-wei to get the work done and then collecting the rewards? Avoiding the blame should the project fail?

  “Are they going to replace Chang-wei?” I asked directly.

  Mother looked surprised. “I don’t imagine they could. Engineer Chen is more than capable. No one knows the production details better than he does.”

  I told her about the accident, not just about the accident at the citadel, but all the other accidents as well.

  “Chang-wei feels responsible for what happened here,” I told her. “He doesn’t have control over the machines.”

  I could see her processing the information.

  “I’ll see what the Chief Engineer’s perspective is on this,” she said finally. “In any case, we’ll know by tomorrow.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “The imperial delegation will go to the Directorate with its decision.”

  Chapter 7

  I was summoned to the citadel again the next morning. I couldn’t imagine why the delegation would still need me, but an order was an order. Fortunately, my duties were light that morning and I was able to re-assign most of my tasks.

  The guard detail at the citadel was still on alert but allowed me in once I showed my summons. Once inside, I was surprised to be met immediately by Chang-wei. He intercepted me in the main passageway to pull me into a what looked like a book room.

  “Soling,” he greeted, seemingly out of breath.

  “Engineer Chen.”

  I was immediately aware of the difference in how we addressed one another. Me, formal, as was customary for us in public. Him, much too familiar.

  “Someone sent for me,” I began.

  “That was me.” Chang-wei was standing close and there was an odd light in his eyes as he regarded me. “I sent for you,” he repeated unnecessarily.

  “What’s happened?”

  Chang-wei lifted his hand, but whatever he meant to do, he must have decided against it because he let it drop. He ran his teeth over his lip nervously.

  “Chang-wei?”

  “I should have asked you this yesterday. I spoke with Jin Furen. I spoke with your mother.”