The Rebellion Engines

by Jeannie Lin

  “The Shanghai authorities surrendered rather easily. The Small Swords only killed the city magistrate that day and the intendant was eventually smuggled out of the Old City. Since then, it’s been a standoff with the Small Swords inside the walls and Qing loyalists outside. It’s like a heated kettle waiting to boil.”

  Burton and Miss Wei eventually left our group alone in the warehouse. Chang-wei’s work could finally begin.

  The first task was to move the crates into the basement beneath the main floor. The warehouse was previously used by opium runners and the entrance to the hidden lower level was through a removable section of the floor that could be easily concealed. The assembly work would be completed below, hidden from view.

  Once the supplies were transported below, we gathered around Chang-wei for further instructions.

  “The mission here must remain secret,” Chang-wei said gravely. “Talk to no one. Our story is that I’m an inventor looking to make money off the foreigners and the businesses sprouting up in Shanghai.”

  “What do you invent?” Kai asked.

  Chang-wei’s lips quirked. “Mechanical puppets. That sing and dance — quite the novelty.”

  “Not so far from the truth,” one of the engineers remarked.

  The team would be working, eating, and sleeping here at the warehouse. I was to stay in the area near the front doors that was used for an office.

  “This warehouse will remain locked. The windows will need to be covered and we’ll stay on guard every night. Mister Burton tells me thieves are always a concern in the commercial wharves.”

  There were other logistical questions from the team. Like when assembly would begin.

  The crates remained unopened. I couldn’t imagine how long it would take Chang-wei and his small crew to assemble the automatons.

  “We need to make contact with Taotai Wu first,” Chang-wei explained. “Wu is the circuit intendant who escaped from the Old City to the foreign concession during the uprising. He’s still considered the administrative head of Shanghai and our liaison. There is a function tomorrow evening where the taotai is expected to be present.”

  I was as surprised as the rest of them when he told us the next part.

  “I am to attend along with Miss Jin. Who will be posing as my wife.”

  Chapter 18

  We spent the rest of the day securing the warehouse as Chang-wei had instructed. He opened the crates up himself for inspection. For each one, I noted how he reached inside to disarm the acid traps. He paused on one of the crates to stare curiously at the locking mechanism. That must have been the one Hanzhu had opened.

  I said nothing.

  The warehouse was located in the Meiguo section of settlement.

  “Ame-ri-can,” Kai pronounced slowly, testing the sounds. “They’re like the Yingguoren?”

  “It’s another country across the ocean. They speak a dialect of Yingyu.”

  That was all I knew. The Americans had taken longer than the Yingguoren, the British, to establish footing in the treaty ports, but not by much. Dean Burton was from there and apparently became very offended if he was mistaken for Yingguoren.

  Our meals were procured from nearby street vendors. Our countrymen had settled in the area surrounding the warehouse district. Tea and food sellers set up shop up and down the streets just like in Old Shanghai. Kai and I had taken up that task of hunting down dinner.

  “It’s because we’re clever enough to blend in,” Kai asserted with an armful of wrapped rice cakes. As usual, he was the largest person around and it was impossible for him to blend in. “Truly, I never thought I’d see Shanghai.”

  For a bone-setter from a small village in Anhui province, the last few weeks must have been quite the adventure.

  “You did well on the ship,” I told him.

  “I spent most of it seasick,” he said with chagrin.

  “You remained calm when there was danger.”

  He fidgeted nervously the compliment. “Just doing my duty, Yishi.”

  It still felt odd to have anyone deferring to me, especially someone as imposing as Kai. But for all his size and strength, Kai had a gentle soul. I remember how he’d shielded me as I’d tended to the injured barge master. Kai had also been the first to run into danger when the automaton had gone out of control at the citadel. He had been a good choice for this mission.

  “Will you return to Anhui after this?”

  “I would hope to return to the Factories. The money helps my family.”

  “I can help you petition for whatever position you’d like.”

  “Better than being conscripted as a soldier, Yishi,” he said gratefully. “As big as I am, that’s all people usually think I’m good for.”

  When night came, Chang-wei and the rest of our crew retired to the storage rooms in the back of the warehouse. Temporary lodging had been set up there with bamboo mats and cots. I retreated to the office near the front which could be closed off for privacy.

  There was a mat and bedroll set up in the corner. Unlike the rest of the warehouse, there were windows in the office fitted with wooden shutters.

  I lay back, blinking into the darkness. It was strange sleeping in this large old building, inside a fractured city split between rebel insurgents and foreigners. Yet, amidst it all, there was an air of the mundane. Like the metal components packed away in the crates — we were pieces waiting to be put together. Moments waiting to come together.

  I wished that Chang-wei wasn’t so far away that night so that we could at least talk. Whatever needed to happen, it would be soon and Chang-wei was at the center of it.

  I also wondered what exactly it would mean to pose as Chang-wei’s wife. It was a role I wasn’t sure I was entirely suited for. It was also a subject Chang-wei seemed to be avoiding. He hadn’t mentioned betrothals or weddings or anything even remotely personal since we’d left the Factories.

  When I woke up the next morning, it was to grunting and the sounds of heavy moving and lifting. I peered through the floorboards to see Chang-wei and his engineers setting up and constructing the assembly line. Kai was helping where he could, the strongest among them, and taking direction well.

  I washed up before peeking outside the window into the street. The surrounding lanes had been quiet at night, but were waking up now to fill with carts and workmen. We would easily be able to hide our activities in the churn of commerce. Especially now when faces like ours were commonplace in the foreign concession. Ironically, it had taken the capture of Old Shanghai for us to reclaim foreign-controlled sections of the city.

  Chang-wei came up to the main floor around mid-morning to hand me a folded slip of paper.

  “Will you be able to manage?” he asked.

  A deep line cut through his brow. Whether it was from concern for me or his intense focus on the mission, I couldn’t tell.

  “I can manage,” I assured him.

  “And about tonight—”

  “I can manage that also.”

  He met my eyes and held onto them. “Be careful.”

  I stepped outside and closed the warehouse door firmly behind me. From the street, there was nothing to set the building apart from the others around it.

  I navigated back to the main road and hailed a rickshaw. The puller started off at a steady jog, his feet attached to pedals which cranked the small motor. We disappeared into the mill of traffic along the avenue, just another transport among hundreds.

  Feeling a bit more secure now, I reached into my jacket to retrieve the paper Chang-wei had given me and opened it. The list was written in horizontal Yingyu script which I couldn’t read. Just as I returned it to my pocket, I caught a glimpse of a radial pattern painted on the wall as we passed an alleyway. There were spokes spiraling out from a central hub, making it look like a wheel. I sat up straight.

  “Uncle!” I called to the rickshaw puller. “Can we stop here?”

  He couldn’t hear me over the chug and creak of the rickshaw. I tried t
o call out again to get his attention.

  “Almost there, miss,” he assured me while the rickshaw’s rusty gears whined away.

  Was he was deliberately ignoring my request? The old puller likely wanted to earn his fare in the most expedient way possible.

  I twisted around to look behind us but could no longer see the graffiti. That moment was gone.

  I couldn’t be angry. It wasn’t easy to turn around in the street, and every step was extra distance and weight the rickshaw man had to bear. Despite feeling more than a little irritated, I sank back down in the seat. It probably wasn’t anything important.

  We neared a stone bridge and traffic slowed considerably as the rickshaw rolled onto it. The address Chang-wei had given me was on the other side of the creek. Brackish water flowed in the tributary beneath us. From the raised vantage point, I could see where the narrow lanes started to widen. The buildings became more Western in style and the street life sparser. Signs with hanzi characters gradually faded to be replaced with Western lettering.

  The area I was in now was a crossroads of waterways and streets. The faces that stared out from carriages and doorways were light-skinned and sharp-featured. It was impolite to stare, so I looked beyond them to the street and the surrounding shops.

  The rickshaw man wasn’t familiar with the Western section so we circled about at least once before I told him to stop in front of a large storefront facing the water. Miss Wei Ming-fen came out to the front to wave me in.

  I paid the rickshaw puller for his trouble and added an extra coin since he wasn’t likely to pick up a fare on this side of the river.

  “Miss Wei,” I greeted, grateful for a familiar face. Today she was dressed in a long gray dress with loose sleeves.

  “Miss Jin, you look well.”

  I looked uncertainly at the signboard with foreign writing. The name was painted in large gold lettering meant to impress.

  “I was sent here for some things,” I told Ming-fen.

  “Let me see…” she began, glancing at the list that I held out. She made things easy, taking hold of my arm warmly as she led me through the doors.

  A young man stood inside behind the counter wearing an apron. His hair was light brown and cut close to his scalp. I took him to be the shopkeeper. There were rows upon rows of shelves behind him, stocked full of various items. Dean Burton was a goods merchant and I assumed he owned this store. A man who can get things was how Chang-wei had described him.

  Ming-fen said something to the shopkeeper in his language and he said something back in question.

  “This is Mister Percival Lawrence,” she said by way of explanation rather than introduction. The young man came to attention at the sound of his name. “Burton calls him ‘Percy,’ but he will not tolerate such familiarity from me. Mister Lawrence doesn’t like me very much.”

  He did look very agitated when Ming-fen slipped behind the counter and started searching the shelves while armed with my list. Unlike me, she had no problems reading the foreign writing.

  “He’s Burton’s clerk,” she called out as she disappeared down one row. “We both work in this shop, though he does most of the speaking to customers as they’re usually foreigners. No Chinese would pay these prices.”

  I looked at Mister Lawrence apologetically and gave him a small bow out of politeness. “Good morning,” I said, displaying the entirety of my knowledge of Yingyu.

  In response, Mister Lawrence said something sharply to Ming-fen. She emerged from the depths of the shelves and set several small tins onto the counter before responding in an equally sharp tone. It was like watching a stage play.

  “I’m telling him that if I have to read out the items, then I might as well get them,” she told me. “Now he’s insisting that I hand the list over to him.” She did so, holding up the paper for him to snatch as she said it. “Business must be slow today.”

  Ming-fen continued our conversation while the shopkeeper gathered the rest of the items. “Mister Burton did say you, or rather the engineer, would be coming by today. He wanted me to tell you he’s engaged with some business matters this morning, but he will be there to accompany you tonight. Do you dance?”

  It was the oddest question I’d ever been asked. Dancing required years of training from a very young age.

  “No,” I replied cautiously.

  “It’s a different practice in the western way of things,” she explained, seeing my confused look. “And about now, Mister Lawrence has realized there are items on the list that he would prefer I sort out after all.”

  With a smile, she held out her hand, not sparing the young man a glance. He came to the counter blushing and handed her back the paper.

  “Come back here with me,” she said with a conspiratorial look.

  I followed her behind the counter, indulged myself with a quick scan of the novelties on the shelves, then ducked behind a curtain into a back room.

  “Shanghai is like any port city,” she said. “The men come and settle first. Merchants, businessmen, sailors. Not many women. Certainly not wives, at least not for a while. A young lady can make enough to eat doing nothing but smiling and pouring drinks. That’s how I first came to this part of Shanghai,” she explained. “For work. But so many of us have flooded into the concession over the last year, both men and women. In some cases, entire families. With the rebels ravaging the countryside, everyone is looking for a way to survive.”

  “And the coastlines are being ravaged by pirates,” I added. If we couldn’t end this war with ourselves, it was going to be bandits fighting bandits over the scraps of what was left of our land.

  “Everything has changed very quickly. In Shanghai, the foreigners are the ones with the money.” She let out a sigh, her expression darkening for a moment before she shook it off. “We all must adapt. Look at these.”

  She lifted a yellow dress from the counter and held it up to me. She paused, gauged my reaction with a tilt of her head, then picked up another garment. Blue this time, embroidered with a peacock feather design.

  “Madame Yu is a seamstress on Hongkew Road. She recreates western styles from pictures she finds in the merchant’s catalogs. Which one do you like?”

  I had the sense of being swept beneath a crashing wave. “What are these outfits for?”

  “The party tonight. I know what you need.” Ming-fen lifted a third option, a dress in pale pink and trimmed with peonies. “A mix of styles,” she said brightly. “Western and Chinese.”

  After that, there was a barrage of undergarments, which was what Mister Lawrence must have been blushing about. Ming-fen took time explaining and demonstrating all the ties and hooks before wrapping everything into a parcel that she tied with string. There was another parcel, already packed.

  “For Engineer Chen. Oh, and one other thing,” she added once we were done with the list. “That letter that you wanted to send to Peking? I had it diverted through Tianjin first.”

  I struggled to balance all of the packages in my arms. “Why?”

  “The Qing authorities aren’t the only ones watching closely. A letter to Peking might draw the attention of the Shanghai municipal council. Better to remain inconspicuous, right?”

  Chapter 19

  Later that day, as the evening neared, I was in the corner office with the shutters drawn and door closed, twisting around and around until my arms ached as I tried to tie the corset. Finally, I blew out a sharp breath and opened the door the tiniest crack. Defeated, I called for Chang-wei.

  When Chang-wei came to the door, his eyebrows raised at the sight of me before he schooled his expression back to a neutral one. I had put on the under garments, but there was a whole other set of clothes to be worn over them.

  “I need help tying the corset,” I said, my face heating.

  There was a pause before he spoke. “Turn around.”

  I did as Chang-wei asked, hoping I’d feel less embarrassed now that I was no longer looking at him. It didn’t help. Chang-wei
took hold of the laces in back and began to tighten them one after another, his hands working down my back. I could feel his every movement.

  Chang-wei worked in silence while I stood as still as I could. There was nothing to break the silence aside from the soft tug of the laces and the deep and steady rhythm of Chang-wei’s breathing behind me.

  “I didn’t realize Western women’s clothing would take such effort,” he said when the silence became too much.

  “Men’s clothing isn’t as complicated?”

  Chang-wei laughed a little. Hollowly. “Not nearly.”

  There was silence again as Chang-wei focused on looping the strings into a knot. He tightened it with a firm tug and then touched his fingers against the small of my back. His touch remained longer than it needed to before he withdrew abruptly. I turned around and realized that my shoulders were bare. I crossed my hands over them as a shield, then felt awkward for doing so.

  “Do you need anything else?” he asked, swallowing.

  “No. Thank you.”

  Was I imagining the flush to his cheeks? We’d become familiar with one another over the last year. Scandalously so, and I knew it. But this was…different.

  It wasn’t until he left that I let out a breath. I was determined to finish dressing by myself, even if I had to twist myself into knots to do so.

  Chang-wei and I stood outside of the warehouse hours later waiting for Burton to arrive. I had managed the rest of the outfit myself. The Western-style dress was collar-less, with a neckline that slanted down, leaving my neck and collarbones exposed. For the scant coverage on top, there was an excess of material from the waist down where it billowed out like a bell. It had taken a while to struggle into once Chang-wei had left me and I still wasn’t sure I wore it properly.

  Chang-wei wore a heavy black coat with brass buttons over a linen shirt and trousers. His hair was still in its braided queue so at least he looked like himself. The suit itself looked so confining. I wondered if this was how Chang-wei had dressed when he’d been in the West. The strangest addition was a length of blue silk tied around his neck.