The Rebellion Engines

by Jeannie Lin

  His eyes widened. “Peking. I haven’t heard news from the capital in a long time.”

  “Perhaps I can share the latest news with you.”

  Our exchange had allowed us both to drop into the northern dialect of the capital. Like Burton, the traders who had any understanding of our language favored the Canton dialect. We still had to be careful about everything we said.

  “What is it you do?” Taotai Wu asked Chang-wei.

  Chang-wei made a show of puffing out his chest. “I’m an inventor.”

  “John makes the most clever machines,” Burton insisted. “Machines that build other machines.”

  “Mister Burton is convinced there are many potential investors in Shanghai,” Chang-wei replied. “This is my chance to, as they say, ‘strike it rich.’”

  That caused everyone in the close circle to burst into laughter.

  The conversation continued in both Yingyu and Canton dialect, which left me with only half the meaning. These men made a lot of money in Shanghai and were happy about doing so, was the gist of it. That and how the women of Shanghai were very beautiful. One of the foreigners directed that comment at me, perhaps thinking it was a compliment.

  “I’m not from Shanghai,” I corrected.

  An awkward silence ensued.

  Chang-wei took my arm obligingly and spoke in northern dialect. “Taotai Wu, it has been an honor. If I may, I promised my wife I would take her to see the garden.”

  “Yes. It’s a fine garden,” Wu acknowledged, holding his gaze steady on Chang-wei as we took our leave.

  “The garden?” I whispered once we were turned away.

  “That’s what Burton told me to say.”

  We returned to the grand staircase, but instead of heading down Chang-wei directed me upward. I felt like an empress ascending those gilded stairs, except an empress would be carried rather than be forced to walk. The sounds of the music grew faint as we climbed until we reached a set of double doors at the top.

  A night breeze stirred the air as I stepped out onto the roof. To my surprise, we entered a deck arranged with greenery and carefully placed rock sculptures. The garden was illuminated by large hanging lanterns and the light of the moon. It looked like a courtyard one would find in a mansion. Yet instead of being a secluded sanctuary, I could see the riverfront and the dark water beyond.

  “This place is so strange.” I wasn’t merely talking about the garden either. Shanghai was a strange island where castaways from disparate lands had drifted ashore.

  Chang-wei stayed close as we explored the rooftop garden. There was a pond with large carp circling at the other end. Never mind that we were eight floors high.

  I wandered to the edge of the terrace and set my hands onto ledge. The waterfront was dark and quiet in the night, with dark shapes floating in the water. Thin masts with furled sails rested. Beyond the river bend, I could see a cluster of faint lights.

  “That’s Old Shanghai,” Chang-wei said. “Just a short sail down the river.”

  The lights were reflected in the inky darkness of the water. Inside, surrounded by the sounds of strange music and unfamiliar language, it was easy to imagine we were in a faraway place. Outside, I was reminded that Old Shanghai was under siege and that the walls were practically an arrow’s flight away. Shanghai’s fate could very well be the fate of any of our cities.

  Beside me, Chang-wei was also gazing across the water, lost in thought.

  “Did you dance with girls in London?” I asked.

  He turned to look at me, surprised. “No. I was betrothed to be married.”

  To a child. I was young when Chang-wei was impressed onto the foreign ship. He’d been taken to distant lands and learned their customs to survive. He seemed comfortable wearing their clothing and speaking their language. He was even familiar with some more intimate details — my face grew hot at the memory of his hands pulling at the laces of the corset around my waist.

  “You were in Yingguo for a long time,” I remarked.

  “There were times I thought I would never find my way home. That I would never see our country again. I thought of you.”

  I smiled wanly. “We’d never even met.”

  “But I knew you,” he insisted. “Your father told me you were curious. And clever. That you liked frogs and sesame candy. And you were willful.”

  “Willful? You must have imagined me as a brat with a scowl on my face.”

  “The best scowl,” he replied, then grew quiet. “I was kept on a steamship for months. They didn’t even need to lock me up. We were out at sea and there was nowhere for me to go. It was years before I received any news of Peking. I didn’t find out about your father until much later.”

  How lonely it must have been for him to be stranded from everyone and everything he knew. Chang-wei had been taken against his will, yet he didn’t seem to harbor any ill feeling toward the foreigners. Not like Yang Hanzhu

  “I thought of you the entire time,” Chang-wei confessed. “And of your father and mother.”

  Chang-wei had no other family. As for me, I’d barely had a thought for him at all. We had never met so the betrothal was just an idea to me. Everything else that was happening right in front of my eyes was very real. My brother had been only been a year old. A baby. Mother had fallen into a dark well of sadness and despair. If I thought of Chang-wei at all, it was only to conclude that he had abandoned us like everyone else.

  He moved closer. “I vowed to return. To find you.”

  “It sounds like you only asked me to marry you because of past promises,” I said sullenly. “Out of a sense of duty.”

  Chang-wei looked surprised. “Isn’t it good to have a dutiful husband? One who keeps his promises?”

  He placed his hand beside mine on the ledge. I could feel the warmth from his skin.

  “W-well, maybe…” I struggled to put my thoughts together as I looked up at him. He really was handsome, his features clean-cut and well-formed. I’d never imagined my betrothed as someone handsome. He was just a formless shadow. A future and far-off thing.

  “Maybe a woman wants to be sought after for irrational reasons as well.”

  He broke into a grin. “You want me to want you for irrational reasons?”

  His hand brushed against mine. My heart thudded inside my chest and suddenly the corset felt too tight. Chang-wei’s pupils darkened as he lowered his head toward me, but a voice cut through the evening air.

  “Mister Chen.”

  I jumped at the intrusion. Chang-wei handled himself with much more grace, straightening his shoulders before turning to the newcomer. I hadn’t heard the doors open or realized Taotai Wu had stepped out onto the rooftop. The intendant stood alone as he regarded us with an expectant look.

  “You’re here from Peking, Mister Chen,” Wu said.

  Chang-wei stepped forward. “Sent by the Emperor and the Grand Council.”

  “Finally.” Wu let out a harsh sigh. “Wáng yang bŭ láo,” he quoted.

  Now you’ll mend the fence, after the sheep are already gone.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Burton arrived at the warehouse with a wagon packed with workmen. They had been selected by the taotai and loyal to the Qing government.

  “They can be trusted,” Wu had assured us the night before.

  I had remained on the rooftop while Chang-wei and the intendant had coordinated their plans. This was why we were here, after all, and it was important to take back Shanghai from the rebel forces. I knew all of this, yet part of me was agitated Chang-wei and I were so rudely interrupted.

  The irrational part of me.

  As Burton had hinted, Taotai Wu was a wealthy businessman who had experience dealing with foreign trading houses in Canton before being appointed as the intendant of the Shanghai circuit. He’d been working to establish a foothold in the concession while waiting for reinforcements.

  “The foreign devils smile with one side of their faces and condemn you with the othe
r,” Wu complained.

  He was convinced foreign traders were supplying the Small Swords rebels. Otherwise, how would they have managed to survive the siege for so long?

  Wei Ming-fen was correct that the rebellion was putting more money into the foreign concession. Burton was apparently a small-time operator who didn’t trade in arms or opium because he was able to profit simply by offering access. Taotai Wu was the one financing Burton’s involvement.

  As the work crews arrived, Wu was nowhere in sight. It was Burton and Miss Wei Ming-fen who were there to carry out the transaction.

  “Anything you need,” Mister Burton said to Chang-wei, putting on his hat. That was another oddity I wasn’t accustomed to yet. The taking off and putting on of hats as a social ritual.

  The workmen were arranged into teams which would be assigned specific tasks. It was the assembly line again, taken from Hubei to be recreated here. Kai had been folded into the work crew. He and I were ready for any injuries that might occur during assembly, but I imagined there would be few. The machines had already been built and only needed to be reassembled.

  I expected Burton and Ming-fen would be on their way soon, but Ming-fen turned to address me.

  “Where are you staying, Miss Jin?”

  I explained about the office and Ming-fen made a show of looking horrified. “Oh, that must be so uncomfortable. And now with all these strangers, these men coming to stay. And you, a lone woman—”

  I shot Chang-wei a warning look as she continued, but to my dismay he was looking on thoughtfully.

  “It’s not so bad,” I insisted. “It’s important that I remain close like I did in—”

  I started to explain my function in Hubei, but we weren’t supposed to speak of the Factories or what was being built there.

  “Like I did in Peking,” I amended, flustered. “In case anyone gets hurt…”

  “It’s improper, don’t you think?” She turned to Burton for confirmation. He shrugged, already conceding her point.

  “There’s really no problem,” I protested.

  “You should come stay with me,” Ming-fen invited warmly. “I have rooms above the store.”

  “Of course,” Burton replied with his typical toothy smile. “You’re more than welcome, Miss Jin.”

  “I can show you Shanghai,” Ming-fen pressed. “The new Shanghai.”

  “This sounds like a reasonable arrangement,” Chang-wei agreed. “Thank you for being so considerate.”

  I bit back a sound of exasperation. No one here actually cared about propriety. Ming-fen was just going to have her way no matter what anyone said.

  I went to my temporary room to retrieve my things, more than a bit miffed at being suddenly evicted. Chang-wei appeared at the door as I tugged the ties of my pack closed.

  “This might work out for us,” he began. “You’ll be able to keep in communication with Burton and Taotai Wu.”

  “Wei Ming-fen only has to lift her little finger around Burton,” I warned him. “It’s obvious she has some purpose and neither you, nor Burton have any idea what it is.”

  “So, find out what it is,” Chang-wei suggested. “She lived in the Old City. She knows more about what we’re going into than anyone else.”

  I let out a slow breath. The real reason I was upset was that I didn’t want to leave Chang-wei or the rest of our crew. Mainly I didn’t want to leave Chang-wei, but I couldn’t admit that out loud.

  I searched for something that I could find the courage to say. “I didn’t find it unpleasant last night. Posing as your wife,” I began, my voice sounding faint above the pounding of my heart.

  Chang-wei went still before coming forward. He touched a hand to my shoulder, lightly with just the tips of his fingers. “You were good at it.”

  It had been a long time since his proposal, but maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Maybe it was his way of being respectfully proper.

  “Afterward. After all this” —the words came with difficulty, scratching against my throat— “I wouldn’t mind becoming your wife in actuality.”

  Chang-wei did smile then. Not a wide, overly flashy display of emotion, but a gentle, private show for us only. He bent closer and my skin heated. I wished there weren’t so many strangers around.

  “I would like that.”

  I could feel his words all along my spine. It was as if he had kissed me, even though his lips only hovered at my ear. Not touching skin, but near enough.

  I was still flushed as I left the warehouse. Ming-fen greeted me with a slight raise of her eyebrows, but I kept my expression neutral and ignored her. Chang-wei helped me onto the wagon with a hand set against my waist, and I wished, all the more so, that we weren’t going to be apart.

  But there was the siege and this mission. A rebellion and our duties. Always, our duty.

  I was only going to the other end of the American section. Only a carriage ride away. We’d been oceans apart before.

  Ming-fen climbed onto the seat beside me. I watched Chang-wei through the window as we pulled away. He stood out in the street to see us off and I felt as if I’d just leapt off a very high cliff with nothing to catch me.

  “I wish I knew what you were thinking of,” Ming-fen murmured. “You seem happy. And terrified.”

  My smile faded. “Jie-jie.”

  “Mei-mei,” she replied, her tone pleasant.

  “Is there something you needed me for?”

  For a moment, her expression remained neutral. Then she tilted her head to acknowledge that the charade was no longer necessary. “There is something.”

  We reached Burton’s shop around mid-day. The American and his assistant went off to discuss business matters while Ming-fen brought me past the shelves filled with goods and into the store room. From there, a set of stairs led up to the attic.

  The upper floor was divided into several rooms, most of which were used for storage. One of the compartments had been cleared out and furnished with a low bed and end table on which a gas lamp was set.

  “The room must be sparse compared to what you’re used to in Peking,” Ming-fen remarked.

  “This is fine,” I replied, voice tight. “Not all Manchurians are wealthy.” Nor all of Peking.

  “My mistake,” she said with the air of someone who didn’t have time to dwell on small social quibbles.

  I stowed my pack in the corner while Ming-fen picked up a woven basket from beside the bed. I followed her back downstairs where she headed directly for the stock shelves. Burton and his assistant only paused briefly before returning to the stack of papers on the counter.

  Curious, I came up beside Ming-fen as she breezed along the shelves, retrieving this item and that. She paused before a collection of bottles. I stared at the inscriptions, wishing once again I was able to read the writing.

  “Do you know what this is?” Ming-fen asked, handing me a bottle with a paper label. I pulled the stopper to smell the contents. The mixture smelled of licorice root and camphor mixed with alcohol.

  I relayed the contents to Ming-fen. “Probably used for stomach problems,” I surmised.

  “Western medicine,” she murmured, slipping it into the basket.

  She retrieved several other bottles before taking everything to the counter where she noted the contents from the basket onto a slip of paper. When she was done, she walked over to Burton.

  “We’re going to Ironware Alley,” she told him, holding out the list.

  He took a cursory glance at it before tucking the paper into his pocket. “Be careful, Miss Wei. It’s getting dangerous out there.”

  “It’s different for foreigners than for natives,” she said off-hand.

  We left the shop together and fell into a leisurely pace down the street.

  “You have an interesting relationship with the two of them,” I remarked.

  “They’re too comfortable here in Shanghai,” she said. “As if they were its masters.”

  I wondered about what she’d said
to Burton about where we were going and asked her about it.

  “The lilong neighborhoods have sprouted up very quickly. All of the dwellings are stacked and pressed together, with families living on multiple levels on top of one another in narrow alleyways. You’ll see.”

  Ironwork Alley was one such section that had been built up around a cluster of forges and metal shops.

  “They specialize in shipbuilding parts and other machinery,” Ming-fen explained.

  “Is this a dangerous place?” I was armed with a needle gun which could fire an opium dart, though I was only able to load one at a time. There was also the bladed fan. Both had proved useful in the past.

  “Burton would think it’s dangerous. Everyone there looks like us, which is frightening.” Then she grew serious. “There are always interlopers and con men roving about, searching for the vulnerable. I had to chase away a charlatan just a few weeks ago.”

  “Chase away?”

  I could imagine Wei Ming-fen driving off the riffraff with her scathing tongue, but I had a suspicion there was more to it.

  We’d come to a cluttered and cramped area. I was reminded of the slums that had cropped up in Changsha as the surrounding villagers fled from the advancing rebel army. Changsha was the closest gated city to our village. I’d found my mother and brother squatting in an alleyway with other refugees during a siege.

  Here, the inhabitants were packed into tiny dwellings that were stacked two or three levels high on either side of a passage. The alley was wide enough to allow Ming-fen and I to move through side-by-side. We passed by open doors that were shops and homes at once. A barber had set out a stool where he attended to a customer with a straight razor. Commerce spilled out into the streets as vendors set out baskets of goods.

  A group of children ran up to us. I panicked, thinking they were here to mob us and pick our pockets, but Ming-fen fetched a tin from her basket and handed it to the oldest child, a girl of around seven years.

  “Everyone gets one,” she instructed.

  The little girl nodded. Prying the lid open with small fingers, the girl began passing out thin, square biscuits to the tiny, up-stretched hands all around her.