by Jeannie Lin
For the first time, I had a purpose beyond survival. I had a chance to improve my family’s fortune.
Despite Chang-wei’s warnings, I wasn’t afraid of Yang. In my heart, he was still Uncle Hanzhu to me. Despite all my promises to the inspector and the crown prince, I wouldn’t allow Aguda to entrap him, either.
The doors of the shops were all open. Shoes and trinkets and bolts of cloth crowded the storefronts, displayed in such a way to catch one’s eye. All manner of goods were traded through Canton.
“Don’t look for my men. You won’t see them,” Aguda had instructed in his precise, clipped manner.
He had shown me a map of the city and traced out a rough course for me to follow. I threaded through the narrow streets now, over canals and bridges. A sampan glided down the waterway while I wove my way through the pedestrians along the bank. Before long, I found myself out of breath and realized I was racing through Canton. I forced myself to slow down.
A group of rickshaw drivers loitered at a street corner as they awaited their next fare. One of them knelt beside his vehicle, adjusting and applying grease to the gears that turned the wheels. He met my gaze briefly before spitting on the ground and turning away. One of the inspector’s men?
I was too nervous. I had no talent for deception, but Aguda told me it wouldn’t matter. If I was clumsy, all the better. I was so good at being conspicuous, and my goal was ultimately to be found.
Inspector Aguda had predicted rather smugly that it wouldn’t take long for the news of my whereabouts to reach the elusive Yang.
“What comes first, Ling-ling?” Yang had asked me the last time I’d seen him. “Smoke or fire?”
It was a nickname that only he had used. A silly little childish name, but I didn’t mind it from him.
Yang Hanzhu was young compared to most of the other members of the science corps. I’d overheard the others joking more than once how he was favored among the courtesans in the city. As a child among men, I hardly existed. I could dart in and out of the chambers of the Ministry of Science as if I were invisible. Yang was the only one who ever noticed me.
He had been standing in his laboratory, surrounded by oddly shaped glass containers. I was perched on top of a wooden stool and watching him with rapt attention.
All of the chemicals Yang usually worked with had been meticulously stored away for the day. Nothing was brewing or bubbling on the counter. There was only a small flask of clear liquid before him.
He’d held a joss stick over a candle until it ignited. “Smoke or fire?” he asked again.
“Fire!” I’d declared, proud of myself for answering so quickly. Had I been nine then? I suppose I would have been considered precocious at that age.
He waved the joss stick until the flame went out, then dropped a few pinches of what looked like sand into the liquid. I watched with delight as cloudy foam bubbled forth, but I knew there had to be more. Indeed there was. When he touched the smoldering stick to the foam, the end burst into flame once more.
I squealed with delight. Yang was a sorcerer, a trickster, the most interesting person in the world.
He blew out the small fire and handed the stub to me. “You try now, Ling-ling.”
The stick ignited for me as well. Fire from smoke. This wasn’t magic; it was wonderful and secret knowledge and I wanted it so badly.
Not even a year after that, Father was dead and Uncle Hanzhu was listed among the names of the condemned.
That was the other reason I had agreed to find Yang. If my father could be redeemed, then perhaps Yang could be redeemed as well. He wouldn’t have to hide away like a criminal.
By the time I reached the warehouse district, sweat was pouring down my face. Tepid air rose from the canals and clung to me like a tangle of blankets that were neither comforting nor welcome.
It was the sort of heat that was on a constant simmer and made everyone think and move a little slower. I ran the edge of my sleeve over my brow. Workmen in muted grays and browns paused to watch me as I passed by. The bladed fan weighed down my front pocket, though it was hardly a comfort.
The story I was to use was the same one that had brought me to the market in Changsha. As Aguda had instructed, I headed to the noted Hongmen of the Thirteen Factories to make a deal. Though recognized as Chinese, the powerful guild-merchants maintained offices and warehouses near the waterfront.
Just beyond the wall were barbarian houses that the foreign traders occupied. My country, the land of my birth, no longer belonged to me and my countrymen. I was in a strange and alien land.
I slipped between two buildings and my breath stopped. For the first time, I had a clear line of sight out to the harbor. Out over the green gray waters lay a fleet of Western ships, alien in appearance with hard metal edges and massive hulls. Overhead, a fleet of airships crowded the sky.
The machines were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Clouds of steam billowed out from their depths as they hovered like iron dragons. Barbarian vessels had invaded both sea and air.
Chang-wei had said that the empire needed a grand fleet to defeat the Yangguizi. I could see now that we would need much, much more than that.
The blast of a steamship horn nearly knocked me off my feet. From our home in Hunan province, I had always heard that foreign devils, the Yangguizi, were being effectively held back behind the stone walls that circled our city.
But now it was clear to me the foreigners had completely infiltrated our gates. I looked once more to the floating steamships above, to the harbor that was thick with Western vessels.
These nightmare beasts in the sky were neither benevolent nor celestial. And there was no wall, no matter how high, that could ever hold them back.
Chapter Seven
For a long time, I could do nothing but stare at the foreign ships. My father’s duty had been to defend against the Western invaders. He’d given his life to that cause, and here I was, taking on that same battle. But what could one person, one lone woman, do against such immense force?
I slipped back into the shadow of the alleyway; quietly, so as not to not disturb sleeping dragons. Winding through the lanes, I found my way to the front of one of the major trade offices that controlled the warehouse area. The signboard above identified the trade office as one belonging to Hongman Mingqua.
My first knock upon the door was met with silence. Fearing I was being too timid, I tried again. This time, a large, hulking figure opened the door. He stared at me with his mouth pressed into a disapproving line.
“May I speak to Mister Mingqua?” I began.
The man responded with something akin to a grunt.
“I have something to show him. Something of great value.”
He looked down his nose at me. “What can you possibly have that is so important? The imperial crown jewels?”
“I will only do business with Mister Mingqua,” I insisted.
The doorman snorted, his disdain evident in the curl of his upper lip. I held my ground even though I could feel my knees begin to shake.
Proper women did not approach foreign trading houses. They did not make demands or attempt to barter with the head merchants of the city as if the Hong merchants were nothing but lowly pawnbrokers.
The brute disappeared and returned a moment later. With a cock of his head, he invited me to follow him into the front room. Keeping a few paces behind him, I climbed up a set of narrow stairs and found myself in a study with windows that opened onto a view of the river.
An elderly man in an embroidered robe sat behind the desk. His head was covered by a silk cap and, as if he needed to boast of his wealth, there were at least three rings upon each hand. Gold and jewels peeked out at me from his fingers.
In truth, I was surprised to be allowed an audience. I had assumed I would be speaking to some clerk, not the head merchant himself.
Mingqua fi
xed his austere gaze upon me, taking my measure and then dismissing me all in one glance. He extended his hand out impatiently.
Fumbling, I reached into my bag to fish out the puzzle box. The metal felt cool against my fingertips as I set the box onto the desk. In the dimness of the study, the steel cube glowed as if emitting its own light.
The merchant’s eyebrows lifted for the briefest of moments. “What is that?”
“A treasure from the empire of Japan,” I said.
He picked up the cube and turned it over and over. “It opens?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How?”
“I am not certain.” Best to lie here. I didn’t know whether Mingqua looked favorably upon the imperial government. “It was left to me by my father.”
He shook the box. “Is there anything inside?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Mingqua ran his leathery fingers over the surface to search for seams. I had done the same so many times. I knew he was met with nothing but smooth, cold steel. The craftsmanship was impeccable. That was the allure of the box.
“Five thousand yuan,” I demanded.
At the first mention of money, the grim-faced businessman returned. The elder merchant lifted his head. Quietly he set the puzzle box down and folded his hands before him as he contemplated me. “A bold price.”
As Mingqua ran his gaze once more over the steel cube, I feared my price was too low. Inspector Aguda had told me that the Hong merchants were some of the wealthiest men in China. What seemed like a mountain of gold to me was nothing to them.
“I cannot part with it for less,” I said when there was no response. There was little choice but to continue the ruse.
“You say this was your father’s.”
“A humble man of no consequence.”
Mingqua snorted at that. The beads of his necklace glinted as he leaned forward, and I saw that they were not beads at all, but pearls; an entire rope of gleaming black pearls.
He craned his neck toward me, peering at me with the eyes of a bird of prey. “Leave this place, young miss.”
My heart thudded in my chest. Was I so easy to read? He hadn’t spoken out of anger, yet the warning was there. Mingqua fell back into his chair. Raising his arm, he made a sweeping motion with the back of his hand. Sweep, sweep, away now.
Swallowing, I went to the desk to retrieve the puzzle box. His eyes cut once more to me with a sharpness that made me recoil. I shoved the steel cube hastily into my sack and retreated down the stairs.
Back out in the street, I could once again breathe. Before fear could take over, I found the next trading house. Then the next.
At one office, I was forced to wait outside for a long time before being summarily dismissed. Most of them shook their heads at me the moment I started to speak. Their business was with other merchants and traders, not girls trying to pawn off a trinket. For a few establishments, I was allowed inside where an appraiser of some kind looked over the puzzle box.
“It’s worthless,” one of them remarked before offering a mere fifty yuan in a careless tone.
I shook my head. Pleaded that my family was desperate and wouldn’t the Yangguizi be interested in such an exotic piece?
Be clumsy about it, Inspector Aguda had instructed. Spread stories. The steel cube had been smuggled from within the Ministry of Science. It held secrets inside. The box and I were so out of place that gossip would spread into the concession.
There was no charity to be had. When I left the last of the trading houses, the afternoon was fading into evening. The foreign quarter appeared more menacing in the dark. I had heard stories about the Yangguizi with their pale skin and yellow hair. Did they truly look like ghosts? Were they large and barbaric and overbearing?
If Yang was really hiding on the other side of the wall, among foreign traders and smugglers, what kept Prince Yizhu from sending in the secret police to arrest him? Was it truly possible for an outcast to hide so carefully within the empire that even the imperial court could not touch him?
I retreated back toward the city proper, just reaching the outskirts of the warehouse district. A food runner was working the street, selling duck noodles. A portable cook stand was hoisted over his shoulders, attached to him like armor. When I hailed him, he came running.
“One bowl,” I ordered.
He set down the stand and a stool and small table spun out from a bottom compartment.
“One bowl, duck noodles!” he cried out dramatically, then beckoned for me to sit. Perhaps he was hoping to draw more customers now that he’d hooked one.
With a few twists of the levers and knobs on the bamboo contraption, a pot of water started simmering over the cook stand.
I sat down to rest my feet. They were aching from wandering through the warehouses all day, and I hadn’t had anything to eat besides a steamed bun from a street peddler at midday. Prince Yizhu had sent me out as bait, but they’d given me little instruction on what I was to do beyond the first day. Was I supposed to find my own place for the night? Would Aguda send me some secret message telling me what to do next?
It was hard not to be frustrated. I was carrying out the crown prince’s orders, which meant I was to bite my tongue and obey. If His Imperial Highness had commanded me to walk barefoot over coals, I, as his most humble subject, was to do so happily.
They made it clear to me I was nothing but a lure, cast out to dangle prettily in water.
I knew I couldn’t trust the prince or his retainers. I certainly couldn’t trust Chen Chang-wei now that he was with them, wearing the imperial insignia. Our family had already given one life at the whim of the imperial throne.
For so many years, the story of the empire’s defeat had remained fresh and jarring in my mind, the shame of that defeat having caused my father’s death. I knew that the Emperor wasn’t godlike and divine. After seeing the war machines of the West, I also knew our land had been invaded by forces beyond the Emperor’s control.
We were no longer the Middle Kingdom. The center of the world around which all other nations revolved. Perhaps we never were.
As the noodles steeped, I pulled the steel puzzle box from my sack to look it over once more. Its appearance was cold and foreboding, but there was a terrible beauty to its flawlessness. I had attached so much mystery to this little contraption over the years, but apparently it was worthless aside from its sentimental value. I was able to hold on to my keepsake after all.
The thud of the cleaver broke me out of my reflection. The noodle man had a duck breast on his butcher’s block, crunching through bone with each precise chop. Soon a steaming bowl filled with egg noodles and glistening slices of roasted duck was set before me.
The vendor’s gaze flickered to the puzzle box in my hands before turning back toward his cook stove. I quickly stowed the cube back into my pack.
My stomach growled as the smell of food reached my nose. The dish reminded me of the soup Nan would make in the kitchen back at home. She would stew bones along with a mixture of dried mushrooms and herbs from sunup to sundown.
I couldn’t help missing my family as I ate alone here on this street corner. By now, Tian would be wondering what had become of me.
There was a generous amount of duck in the bowl, and between that and the richness of the broth, I was unable to finish. I felt ashamed considering how scarce food had become in our village.
“How much?” I asked the vendor.
“One yuan.”
I reached for my purse, but my fingers paused on the frog clasp. “Only one?”
“Yes, miss.” He stood beside the table with his hands clasped behind his back. One yuan for such a generous portion? Canton was supposed to be wealthy compared to the dusty village where my family made its home, but did all the inhabitants of the city live in such excess?
I took the coin
from my purse and placed it politely onto the table when the man spoke again.
“You’re from out of town, miss?” He glanced once again at my travel pack and I nodded.
“There’s a boarding house three lanes down.” He gestured with this hand in the distance. “You’ll see a lantern in the front. An old seamstress lives there.”
That was when I realized how unusual it was for a noodle seller to haul his stand around in such a deserted area. More business would be found at the other end of the warehouse zone where the dock laborers congregated.
Aguda had claimed he would have his trackers following me. I looked to the lone beggar at the corner, then back to the noodle seller. Neither one appeared to be an imperial spy, though I supposed they would have been poor ones if I was able to detect them.
I thanked the vendor and started in the direction he’d indicated. The lanes and alleyways of the city appeared more ominous as darkness fell, and I began to walk faster. Despite Inspector Aguda’s assurances, I didn’t feel protected. I had my needle gun and bladed war fan tucked into my sash, but they couldn’t do more than momentarily stun an attacker.
While I was watching the shadows for some hulking monster, I didn’t anticipate the tiny figure that scurried toward me when I turned the corner. Small hands yanked my pack from my arm and started running down the lane.
“Hey!”
Instinctively, I ran after him. The thief was merely a child, even younger than Tian and certainly scrawnier. But his cricket legs carried him swiftly through the backstreets. After several twists and turns, I finally grabbed onto his shoulder.
“Keep running,” he instructed as he turned to look at me. His eyes were clear and devoid of any fear of being caught. The rascal was barely breathing hard while I was panting. “Don’t stop.”
He looked beyond me to the end of the alleyway as if to see if there was anyone else chasing us. Shrugging his shoulder from my grasp, he darted toward a towering stack of refuse. Shipping crates had been piled on top of one another. The little thief slipped into an opening at the base like a mouse into the wall.
