Gunpowder Alchemy

by Jeannie Lin

  I didn’t want to think of what other pursuits were readily available at those establishments. There were prostitutes who made their entire trade on providing opium and the pleasures of the flesh in combination.

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Somewhat like strong drink.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the personal turn of the conversation. “But quicker. Your troubles float away and a sense of peace fills you.”

  “A sense of joy? Happiness?”

  “No, not that.” He struggled to find words while I watched expectantly. “People are right to call it a dream. Everything feels far away, like you’re looking down from the clouds.”

  “And why not stay that way all the time?” I posed bitterly. “Why would anyone want to come back to their troubles from the clouds?”

  He came close, his hand brushing against my sleeve. “Because there are better dreams,” he said quietly.

  I couldn’t understand why some people could let go of the drug so easily while others would smoke it until they wasted away. And what had happened to Big Gao, who, according to his companion had only a single pipe?

  “Yang was testing opium samples from different ports,” I brought up. “He was particularly interested in sources where opium was manufactured.”

  “Yang again,” Chang-wei muttered.

  I ignored his snide tone. “His theory was that some shipments had been altered or contaminated.”

  “As I said before, that theory is quite far-fetched.”

  I recalled the men Yang had locked up in his cargo hold. They had been listless and nearly catatonic until I arrived, at which point they’d erupted in violence.

  “Have you ever seen opium induce a rage?” I asked Chang-wei.

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t say so. It has quite the opposite effect.”

  “My thoughts as well.”

  I looked at Big Gao again, lying eerily still as if dead. I checked his pulse again. The beat of it was still faint.

  “I’ll get a cloth to wash his face. Perhaps that will help revive him,” I suggested.

  After making sure I didn’t need anything more, Chang-wei left to see to the condition of his new engine now that it had been running for an extended amount of time.

  Over the next hours, Gao showed little improvement. He still didn’t respond to light or sudden sounds. The pinpricks elicited no response. At times, his hands and feet seemed chilled.

  His comrades came by to visit occasionally but showed no alarm at his state.

  “Dumb Ox smoked so much he passed out,” they jibed.

  But by afternoon, he still hadn’t roused, and I worried some more serious illness had befallen him.

  Chang-wei came back to assist me as I opened Gao’s lips to insert a bamboo tube. With Gao’s head held up, I poured a small amount of water down his throat, careful of the fact that he couldn’t swallow. Without water, he would further weaken, making it difficult for him to improve.

  “Have you apprenticed with the physician for long?” Chang-wei asked as we set our patient back down.

  “Four years now. Before that, I hovered around his shop, fetching and carrying for him. I stood by Old Lo while he administered remedies, and I watched and listened. He called me his little shadow.”

  The reason I’d followed the kind physician around was only partly due to an interest in healing. I’d been lonely in the village and looking for someone to fill the emptiness created by my father’s absence.

  Old Lo was knowledgeable and kind. He had the only collection of books I knew of in Linhua village. That was enough to earn the worship of a ten-year-old girl. At least it had been enough for this one.

  Chang-wei set a spark lantern down on the floor between us as I sat down to resume my vigil. He took out a small bamboo case that fit in the palm of his hand and put on a pair of spectacles. When he opened the lid, there was book inside filled with tiny pages.

  “What is that?”

  “All my observations and findings,” he replied.

  “From your time with the Yangguizi?”

  “Those as well.”

  The characters looked like tiny ants. “How can you read that?”

  “A scholar’s trick,” he laughed. “The most desperate of us can include the entirety of Classic of Poetry on a side of a calligraphy box.”

  He took off his spectacles and handed them to me. The lenses magnified the writing so it was easily readable. Chang-wei had kept meticulous notes on his discoveries. On a few pages there were even drawings scaled down to minuscule size.

  “I kept it hidden in a pocket I had sewn into my clothes,” he explained. “And wrote down all the secrets I learned abroad. Now I keep it with me so I can always refer back quickly. I’m going to record the improvements I made on the engine into it.”

  “So you didn’t surrender all of your findings to the crown prince?” I handed the journal back to him as well as the glasses.

  “That would be foolish, given what’s happened in the past, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Though most of the previous leading members of the Ministry had been demoted or removed from office, Chang-wei had regained a position of trust. He’d made himself valuable to the throne.

  “Was it difficult for you to pledge your allegiance to the crown prince once you knew what had happened?” I asked.

  “There was never any doubt in my mind.”

  “That is where you and I differ.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

  “The Ministry did fail, Soling. We were defeated. We failed to protect the empire.”

  “But what of the warships and troops and cannons? What of the generals and diplomats?”

  “We have all been punished,” he said gravely. “All we can do is gather our strength and fight back.”

  I fell silent and he returned to the journal, using a stylus no thicker than a needle to write down his latest discoveries. I tried to weigh out Chang-wei’s argument, but as much as I wanted our land to be free, I couldn’t find it within myself to be so unshakably loyal. Our family had already paid its price.

  While Chang-wei was bent at his work, I thought I saw movement from the bunk. I continued to watch and indeed, Gao’s hand had twitched.

  I rose and went to him, fully expecting him to stir and wake up, begging for water. But his eyes remained closed.

  “Is this good news?” Chang-wei asked, staring down at the big man as I checked his pulse.

  This was the first time Chang-wei had deferred to me as the more knowledgeable one.

  “His pulse and breathing are stronger,” I reported. But when I pricked his hand with the pin, he didn’t responded. After a prolonged delay, his fingers did twitch again, and I noticed that the tips had started to blacken, just as I’d seen with the caged prisoners on Yang’s ship.

  Chapter Twenty

  The transport ship reached the juncture of the Yangzi and Xiang rivers in a day. A small trading settlement spanned both banks, and we stopped only briefly to gather supplies and more news. The rebel army, either through exaggeration or gathering sympathies, was growing rapidly. Reports from refugees of the last battle claimed it was a slaughter. With every story, my stomach clenched tighter.

  “We’re close. Changsha is only days away,” Chang-wei assured.

  I continued to tend to Gao, who was wasting away before my eyes. The broth and herbal medicine I poured down his throat wasn’t enough to sustain a man for long. I brewed ginseng to quicken his blood, but it was nothing more than an educated guess. I didn’t know what remedy he needed.

  One afternoon, I was pouring Gao his dose of broth and medicine when his shoulder jerked. Chang-wei was tilting his head back for me and holding the bamboo tube to his mouth. The movement made us both jump. Chang-wei and I looked at each other with mixture of surprise and ho
pe.

  “Mister Gao?” Chang-wei leaned close. “Are you awake—?”

  Gao’s arm suddenly lashed out, catching Chang-wei across the face. As Chang-wei staggered back, Gao fell from the berth. His eyes flew open, but they were unfocused. His arms and legs began to thrash about as if struggling with an unseen enemy.

  “You’re safe. You’re back on the ship,” I tried to tell him.

  Scrambling to his feet, Gao lunged at me, as if the sound of my voice enraged him. He knocked the bowl of ginseng broth from my hands, and the look on his face chilled my blood. He was crazed, mindless.

  Chang-wei threw his weight against Gao, tackling the larger man to the floor. Despite having been comatose for three days, Gao fought like a wild animal. I fumbled for my needle gun and fired.

  The needle embedded itself into Gao’s leg. I could hear the rest of the crew rushing down. I fired again, this time hitting him in the chest.

  By the time the crew arrived, Gao had gone slack and Chang-wei was struggling out from beneath the larger man. He had a scratch across his neck that had drawn blood.

  “What happened?” The captain brought up the rear.

  Gao was sprawled on the ground in a heap while Chang-wei and I were breathing hard.

  “He woke up.” My answer was a feeble one, but my hands were trembling and my heart beating out of my chest.

  “He was delirious,” Chang-wei added, pressing two fingers to his neck to check his wound. “He didn’t know where he was. Couldn’t understand anything we said.”

  The captain bent to inspect Gao, who was still again, but the drugged needle wouldn’t subdue him for long.

  “We need to restrain him,” I said shakily. “To keep him from harming himself.”

  And anyone else.

  The captain ordered the others to bring rope while we explained how Gao had attacked us immediately upon waking up.

  “Like a rabid dog,” Chang-wei supplied.

  “From smoking opium?”

  The men turned him over to bind his arms and legs, and I saw that the spittle at the corner of his mouth looked dark in color. I pried his mouth open and saw that that his tongue was stained black, as if covered in tar.

  “This isn’t opium,” I replied grimly.

  I didn’t know what it was.

  ***

  Chang-wei insisted that I go above deck and get some air, saying that I had spent too much time trapped down below. Still shaken from the incident, I didn’t protest.

  One of the crew stayed with Gao while the others returned to their duties. By the time Chang-wei came to me, a bruise had formed beneath his eye and he had a handkerchief pressed to his neck.

  “I can clean that—”

  “It’s just a scratch. Were you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  He turned to lean upon the rail, staring out at the riverbank. “What do you think this is?”

  “Gao appears to be suffering from opium withdrawal, but the symptoms are so violent. They’ve taken him over completely. Yet he didn’t smoke any more than his companion.”

  The captain came up beside us on the tail end of the conversation. “Miss Jin, is my man going to survive this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The truth was, I was afraid to say. What if Yang had been right that some of the opium shipments had been altered? What if tainted opium happened to reach the opium den in our village?

  “When we next dock, I’ll have to—”

  The captain never finished his statement. The long shaft of an arrow embedded itself into his chest with a sickening thud. He was still staring at me, mouth part open, eyes wide. His hand reached up and hovered near the arrow, unable to decide what to do with it. This thing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

  I kept on seeing that stare, uncomprehending and final, even as Chang-wei grabbed me and shoved me onto the deck.

  More arrows pierced the air. I could hear our crewmen shouting. The two bodyguards scrambled into position to return fire.

  “Pirates,” Chang-wei said through his teeth.

  He was right next to me, pressed flat to the deck. The captain had fallen not far away.

  “He’s dead,” I choked out.

  My limbs had gone to ice. All around me, the crewmen were running for cover.

  Chang-wei had told me get below if anything happened, but my body refused to move. He grabbed my arm.

  “Stay low!” he gritted out.

  Keeping my head ducked, I ran beside him as another of our crew staggered, stricken by an arrow. I thought Chang-wei would flee into the hold for cover, but he headed for the port side.

  “I can’t swim,” I protested when I saw what he intended.

  Relentlessly, he dragged me along. I glanced back once. The attackers had come upon us from three directions in small skiffs. Gunpowder motors buzzed as they circled. There were at least three men to our one.

  “Take a deep breath,” Chang-wei commanded.

  He helped me climb onto the rail and squeezed my hand once before I slipped over the side.

  As I plunged into the water, panic seized me. I tried to hold my breath, but water flooded into my mouth. The river had become a living, malicious thing as it churned around me. Kicking furiously, I tried to grasp for something. Anything.

  Strong arms grabbed me and I clung onto them. A moment later, my head broke through the surface. I came up coughing, lungs burning.

  I didn’t know where the shore was, and my muscles were still tight with fear, but Chang-wei wrapped an arm around me.

  “I won’t let you go.”

  Fire lance explosions cracked the air. Chang-wei held on to me as he swam through the water using his one good arm. I found it was easier if I went slack and let myself be pulled along.

  “When we get to shore, run for the cover of the trees,” he said between labored breaths.

  I forced myself not to think of the ship, the men who had been our companions. We just had to get to dry land.

  When I felt the muddy bank beneath my feet, I thanked the Goddess of Mercy. Dragging myself from the water, I ran for the forest.

  Chang-wei was right beside me. Our clothes were soaked through, but we pushed on until we were hidden in the canopy of trees. My lungs were burning, but when I stopped to catch my breath, Chang-wei pushed us on.

  “The ship?” I gasped out as we ran.

  “Gone.”

  The heat and rush of our escape had just begun to fade when we stumbled into a clearing.

  And right into a circle of menacing-looking individuals, every one of them armed. Rough hands grabbed me from behind. Before I could think to kick or scream, they had stripped the needle gun and bladed fan from my belt.

  I looked helplessly over at Chang-wei, who had drawn his firearm. The rebels backed away a step.

  There was no doubt these men were rebels. Their queues had all been cut away, and they wore weapons openly in defiance of imperial law.

  “Let her go,” Chang-wei demanded.

  “It was you who intruded upon our gathering here, my friend.”

  The voice was unmistakably female, wellborn and cultured judging by the accent. The mob surrounding us parted to reveal a lady in her late twenties seated in a wheelchair with a steelwork frame.

  I was surprised to see such a young woman speak for so many men, but her robe, though worn, was of expensive silk while those around her appeared to be laborers and peasants. Her feet were encased in impossibly tiny slippers. She had been subjected to the Han foot binding process.

  Using a set of levers upon the armrest, she moved the mechanized chair forward. “We only sought to protect ourselves. And it seems we were right to do so.”

  Her gaze moved first to Chang-wei, then to me before settling back onto the pistol in his ha
nds.

  “We are merely travelers passing by,” Chang-wei replied. “Release my wife and we’ll go.”

  Though he communicated the ruse without pause, the lady raised an eyebrow at the sight of our wet clothing. Despite her wariness, she lifted her hand and I was immediately released.

  I hurried to Chang-wei’s side. He kept his gun drawn as he positioned himself protectively in front of me.

  “We can’t let them go,” the tall man beside her interrupted. He wore a sword in his belt as well as a fire lance over one shoulder. I assumed he must have been her second-in-command.

  The lady once again merely raised two fingers to command silence. “You will need to answer some questions.”

  “Ask, then.”

  Tension gathered along Chang-wei’s spine, and I had to keep myself from holding on to him for support. Though they had released me, the rebels kept a tight circle around us. It was impossible for Chang-wei to shoot his way out. His pistol only held two bullets.

  “Where did you get that devil’s weapon?” There was a chill in her tone that set my teeth on edge.

  “I purchased it.”

  “I believe you’re lying.”

  “If that is what madame believes, then I cannot convince her.”

  Chang-wei remained as steady as ever, and I was reminded that he had spent years among enemies.

  “We have no love for the Yangguizi.” Gears churned as the mechanized chair moved closer. “Nor for the imperial cowards who bow down to them.”

  My heart beat painfully inside my chest. There was nowhere to run, and we were among lawless, desperate men.

  “I care nothing for foreign devils or imperial authority,” Chang-wei said. “The only thing I desire is our safety. The weapon and all our silver is yours in exchange for our lives. We’ll speak nothing of you to anyone.”

  At that, the second-in-command once again spoke, his hard gaze pinning us. “If the Emperor means nothing to you, cut off your queue and join our cause. That is the only way to ensure you won’t betray us.”

  Chang-wei’s grip tightened on the gun. “That is not an option.”