by Jeannie Lin
I had always assumed Chang-wei had broken our betrothal and turned his back on us like so many of Father’s former colleagues. We had never heard from him again, and then Father was put to death and our family exiled. But Chang-wei hadn’t abandoned our family. He had been captured by the enemy.
“What happened?” I asked.
“When I think back, I realize it wasn’t the worst of outcomes. The foreigners needed a replacement for their engineer aboard one of the iron warships, so they seized me. Once we were out in the middle of the ocean, the Yingguoren didn’t even need to keep me shackled anymore.”
“You lived among them.” I still couldn’t believe it.
“I’ve even lived for a time in their capital. They call it ‘London.’”
We resumed our walk, but Chang-wei was no longer the stiff, formal, restrained academic I thought him to be. He was a man of many secrets.
He told me how there was a section similar to this one in London, a part of the Western city peopled entirely by our countrymen. Some of them who had been forcibly abducted like him and others who had voluntarily gone to work aboard the iron steamships.
“That’s why Yang distrusts me. We came across each other in India after I had been away for more than two years. It was like a dream, seeing a familiar face in a strange land.”
“Were you able to speak to each other?”
“Only long enough for me to refuse to abandon the devil ship, as he called it, to join with him.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Why didn’t I go?”
I shook my head, confused. “You could have escaped then.”
“To become a fugitive with Yang? I had become an established member of the crew on the steamship. I even kept a residence in that great, gray city of London.”
Chang-wei certainly sounded like a traitor who had abandoned his country. Had he adopted Yingguo as his new home? Why did he come back?
“Why didn’t I go, Soling?” he asked again, this time a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, teasing me. “I had been dragged onto a foreign warship against my will and thrown into a sweltering engine room.”
My heart throbbed, the blood pulsing through my veins as it always did when a puzzle was thrown in front of me.
“Their engines—” The answer lingered on my tongue. The thought had not yet fully formed.
His eyes glittered as he waited.
I could barely breathe. “Their engines are not the same as ours.”
Old Liu had told me their engines were powered by steam. Suddenly I understood why Chang-wei had stayed away for so long; why he had practically become one of the Yangguizi, even though his reputation would be forever blackened by it.
“The Ministry misjudged how quickly the Yingguoren war machines had advanced,” he admitted. “We were defeated soundly because their devil ships were faster, their guns bigger. I had no idea how to run that ship they threw me onto, but I learned quickly. I learned everything I could about their machines, their steamships and airships. At one point, I was even allowed to visit the academies and workshops of London.”
He spoke without a hint of boastfulness. What I heard instead of pride was hope.
Chang-wei leaned in close to whisper the next part in my ear. “They thought I was harmless. Because I appeared so young. Because of my size compared to them. Because I remained quiet.”
A shudder ran down my spine as his warm breath fanned against my neck.
“There are those in the Ministry that believe we should turn away from the wicked ideas of the Yangguizi,” he went on. “To those men, I’ll always be a sympathizer and a traitor. But I went directly to the crown prince with all I had learned, and he agreed with me. To know your enemies is, and always will be, a source of great power.”
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Burton met us by the riverfront himself to see to the final arrangements. To me, he was as cheerful as he had been the day before, both bowing to me as well as shaking my hand in the Western style as he inquired about how well I rested, did I find the clothes suitable, and were the accommodations to my liking.
To Chang-wei, he lowered his voice and they spoke at length with heads bent.
The armed escort joining us consisted of two brothers from a private security firm. They were assembled by the quay when we arrived and were easily recognizable by the broadswords at their sides as well as crossbows strapped onto their backs. They were covered at the shoulders, arms and knees by plates of protective armor that still allowed them to move freely. The sight of the mercenaries alone was a deterrent to any small-time bandits.
Burton returned to say his farewell at which time I made sure to express my deepest gratitude. Whatever the source of his wealth was, he was sacrificing a significant amount of money to get me to my family.
“I am in your debt,” I said sincerely.
“My pleasure. Joi gin, Miss Jin.”
He grinned as he gave his farewell, flat without proper intonation, but well-meaning nonetheless. His blue eyes flashed and for a moment I could see beyond his strangeness and understand how he was able to charm people. I felt shame for thinking he was just another one of the foreign devils before I understood his association with Chang-wei.
Despite the comforts in the international settlement, I was glad to begin our journey. We joined a small transport ship with a crew of four men who would take us down the Great River.
The riverboat cut through the water at a swift pace while the guardsmen positioned themselves on deck as lookouts.
“Are they always so watchful?” I whispered to Chang-wei. We had just left the outskirts of Shanghai, but I assumed any threat would only come when we were far away from the cities.
“They’re paid well to do so,” was his reply. “Burton attempted to find news of the rebels last night. Reports are just starting to come through to Shanghai. Before that, it was all rumor.”
“He said they had an army?”
“Apparently there has been an increase in local skirmishes. A Banner garrison attempted to march upon the rebels to force them to disperse, but the Banner army has been unsuccessful. Reports on their numbers have been unreliable.”
“How many?”
Chang-wei shook his head. “Some say several hundred to a thousand. In other accounts, ten thousand.”
I stared at him in shock. “How could a force like that have amassed so quickly?”
“Rebellion must have been brewing for a long time,” he replied grimly. “The discontent seems to have reached a critical point.”
There had been famine throughout the province for many years now. In Linhua, my family had experienced firsthand the gradual whittling away of our resources. The growing hunger in our bellies. These last years had been a struggle for everyone.
Having grown up surrounded by the wealth of Peking, I understood the disparity between the two regions. To hungry peasants in Hunan, Peking appeared to be bloated with riches.
“How long before we reach Linhua?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“This boat will take us as far as Wuhan in two days. Then we head south.”
From river to river, we’d make our way to my family. Though the transport was fitted with a gunpowder engine that churned and groaned its way through the water, it wasn’t fast enough for me. Nothing could be.
The first evening, we docked at a riverfront village and sought out food and news at the tavern. The main room was full of boatmen and merchants traveling both by the river as well as alongside it on land routes.
Talk of the rebellion was on everyone’s lips, but it was a faraway thing.
“They call themselves the ‘Long Hairs,’” the tavern keeper told us. “Because they’ve cut off their queues in defiance of the Emperor. For a long time now, they were held back in the region of Jintian, but they’ve overpo
wered the Banner garrison there and have been steadily moving north.”
These were the rebel skirmishes we would hear rumors of in our village. The Banner garrisons were outfits of Manchurian soldiers stationed at major cities throughout the empire. They had evolved from the original factions under the great Nurhaci who had defeated the Mings to found our dynasty. My family could trace its ancestry to the Banner men.
“Have you heard anything of Linhua village?” I asked.
He’d heard nothing of it, but we were able to gather that the provincial capital at Changsha was untouched.
“If the capital is still standing, then perhaps nearby Linhua remains safe,” I surmised.
But something told me it wouldn’t be for long. We were in the heart of rebel activity.
Chang-wei listened to the news with little comment, though I could see his mood darkening as the night progressed. I asked him what was the matter, but he assured me it was nothing.
“Just thinking,” was all he’d say.
There was only a single room left, and a small one at that. We were fortunate to be able to get it. There was no feather bed or hot bath to be found here. The room was little more than a closet, but it was kept clean and warm.
“You . . . you can stay here,” I said.
Chang-wei had only set one foot inside before turning back to the door.
“I mean, it’s no different than the situation in Shanghai,” I amended, suddenly shy when I had never been shy. A hundred butterflies circled in my stomach.
In truth, there wasn’t enough space here for us to remain reasonably apart. There was a single bamboo mat on the floor that was barely large enough for one person. Even if we retreated to separate corners, all we had to do was stretch out an arm and we’d be touching.
“I’ll be back shortly then,” Chang-wei said. “Get some sleep.”
Once he was gone, I took the place closest to the inner wall, leaving the blanket for Chang-wei. We would be sleeping practically shoulder to shoulder, but I needed to stop making such a fuss over it. We had crossed over any boundaries of propriety long ago. Despite all that had happened, Chang-wei was a gentleman at heart, and I had been unsuitable for marriage long before meeting him.
Extinguishing the lantern, I turned my face toward the wall.
In the darkness, I prayed for my family. I prayed that our village was too small, and too insignificant for anyone to take notice.
Rumors were that the rebels would take over a city and then scour the surrounding countryside to pillage for supplies and conscript more men for their army. Tian was only eight years old. They wouldn’t force him to fight, would they?
The rebels might just kill him. And Mother and Nan, too, or worse. I prayed that if danger came, they would know what to do. But Nan was elderly and a servant used to taking orders. Mother had been asleep with her eyes open for years. Tian was clever, but he was just a young boy.
We had heard of rebels gathering at Thistle Mountain, but we’d made light of it in the village. Even so, I knew the threat was there. Why hadn’t I given my family instructions on what to do? Or at least asked someone to watch over them? But then who would I have asked for help? We had no friends in our village.
By the time I heard the door creak open, tears were pouring down my face. I bit down hard on my lip and choked back a sob.
The movement at the door ceased. I imagined Chang-wei standing there and debating whether he should come in. A moment later, the mat rustled beside me. I had hoped that Chang-wei would just go to sleep, but instead I felt his hand on my shoulder.
He touched my shoulder lightly. “Soling, you’re having a bad dream.”
In the darkness, he sounded so close; so strong and caring that fresh tears slid down my cheeks.
Though I hadn’t been sleeping, I acted as if I were. “I don’t remember what I was dreaming about.”
I muffled my reply against my blanket so he wouldn’t hear how my voice trembled. It didn’t help. Chang-wei reached for me, awkwardly turning my head against his shoulder. We were in a tangle of blankets and my hands were folded to my chest between us, but still he closed his arms around me.
“It will be all right, Soling.”
I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want Chang-wei to know I was crying, but I couldn’t help it. It was a long time since I had been held like that.
“Tian will be nine years old this year,” I choked out. “He has a gentle spirit. When the village boys pick on him, he doesn’t fight back. He just likes to draw.”
Chang-wei nodded, even though I wasn’t making sense. I felt his hand resting against the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking my hair. Though his touch was hesitant, it was reassuring to me nonetheless.
“Feel better?” he asked after a long time had passed.
I didn’t think so, but I nodded against his shoulder. Gently, Chang-wei laid me back onto the mat and pulled the blanket over me. Then he settled on his side of the mat and said nothing more.
***
We kept on hearing more news along the river. Sometimes during our stops for food or more gunpowder fuel, other times from passing boats.
The rebels called themselves the Heavenly Kingdom Army and apparently had won several victories against the Banner garrisons, not just one. They were marching northward, gathering followers as they went. One witness to the march called it a human wave. There were thousands upon thousands of followers, and wherever they went, the fighting was bloody.
The rebels were bent on amassing men, women and children into their service. Apparently women fought in their army just as men did. The only people who were not allowed to join were soldiers from the Banner garrisons or Manchurian city officials. Those they executed on sight.
I wanted to discuss this alarming news with Chang-wei, but he spent most of the day with the ship’s machinist, inspecting the engine.
At night, Chang-wei and I shared a sleeping area that had been curtained off from the rest of the men, though we did occupy separate berths. As I drifted off to sleep one night, I noticed him going to the trunk that Burton had provided to us.
Chang-wei pulled a wooden case from it, and I watched as he opened the lid. Inside was a firearm, small enough to be held in one hand. It was undeniably a Western device in appearance with a polished wood handle and an iron barrel. Right before Chang-wei extinguished the lantern, he loaded two bullets into the weapon and set it beside his pillow.
Chapter Eighteen
Wuhan was a major city with a bustling port. Like all of the places we’d passed, the river was central to all life there, and a concentration of establishments could be seen from the water. A pagoda watchtower rose high above the tree line, marking the city’s location. We docked there around midday, and I learned why Chang-wei had been spending so much time inspecting the engine on the transport boat.
I followed him to a repair shop and junkyard where, after a brief negotiation with the owner, Chang-wei pulled out a folded paper from a pocket in his robe. He opened it to reveal a diagram and then began rummaging through the graveyard of broken and abandoned boats.
“What are you searching for?” I asked, glancing over his shoulder at the complicated schematic.
He bent to sort through a pile of what looked like piping. “Whatever it takes to rework the engine.”
“Rework it?”
“Improve it. The body of the vessel is suitable. It’s lightweight, mobile. The engine is serviceable, but old. I can make it more powerful. Get us to your village faster.”
I imagined the ship being grounded for a week for repairs. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”
“Can you bring me that wheelbarrow?” Chang-wei rose with an armful of parts.
His mind was on his new grand scheme, and everything else amounted to the buzzing of crickets in his ear. I went to retrieve the wheelbarrow, and he
set the assortment of parts inside before turning to a hunk of machinery on the ground before him.
“Or I might consider replacing the entire engine,” he surmised.
After two hours, Chang-wei needed to borrow a mechanized cart to transport all of the spare parts back to the dock. The assembly plodded beside him like an obedient pack mule.
“Don’t worry. I won’t disassemble the engine until I’m certain the loss in time will be offset by the gains,” he assured as I helped him carry his pile on board. For the heavier parts, he had to enlist the crewmen and the use of their pulley.
While he set up, I ventured into the marketplace to browse for lunch. The stalls provided a good selection of fruit, and I found a vendor selling fried cakes wrapped into a banana leaf. The smell of them made my mouth water.
As I wandered past the produce stands into metalworks and devices, I heard a shop owner hawking his selection of fire lances.
“Did you hear there was a rebel attack outside of Jingzhou?”
The news stopped me cold.
“Nowhere is safe anymore, my brother,” the dealer went on. “These lances are forged from the highest quality iron. Easy to fire. Just aim and it will fell any target at a hundred paces.”
I waited until the prospective customer was inspecting the other weapons on the shelves before approaching. The sight of the hand cannons and various firearms laid out on the counter intimidated me.
“Sir,” I began. “Where did you say that attack was?”
“The Jingzhou commandery, not three days from here by horse.”
“I thought the rebels were still far south.”
“Now, miss, don’t you know that we’re not dealing with a single threat?” The shopkeeper’s gaze darted to his customer before returning to me, fearful that my remark might cost him a sale. “There have been uprisings throughout the Chang River valley. These Heavenly Kingdom rebels are rousing all the other scoundrels to action.”
As alarming as this was, I told myself not to overreact. Most likely this attack was nothing more than a gang of local bandits and the opportunistic shopkeeper was using stories of rebel attacks to increase sales.
