by Jeannie Lin
A moment later, two loud cracks split the air like the pop of firecrackers. The rebels fell to the ground while Tian stood unharmed.
In shock, I scanned the gate and gasped when I saw Chang-wei, pistol raised. He’d come back for us. A rush of emotion swept through me and I sank to my knees, holding tight onto Mother, who was shaking so hard I thought she would fall apart.
“Tian isn’t hurt,” I murmured to her. “He’s all right.”
Soldiers from the city garrison spilled into the courtyard around him. Lowering the weapon, Chang-wei went to my brother. Then he looked to where I was huddled with my mother and Nan.
Armored guardsmen flanked either side of him as he approached.
“If you’ll come with me, madame. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
Chang-wei addressed my mother while more men came to form a protective barrier around our family. I grabbed hold of Tian’s hand and didn’t let go. His fingers were ice cold in my grasp, but they held on to mine with equal fierceness.
We moved as quickly as we could, the men clearing a path for us. The fight wasn’t over, but as the men escorted us from the courtyard, the rebels were being routed by the rest of the garrison.
When we were finally clear of the fortress, I could see the hole that had been blasted into the city from underneath. The entry point was surrounded by armed soldiers who were already starting to barricade it.
“Is it over?” I asked.
Chang-wei tucked the firearm into his belt before turning to me. “No, Soling. I’m afraid it’s just begun.”
***
Once again, we were adrift like sparrows in the storm and seeking refuge. Zuo graciously took us into his home, which was a modest-sized residence compared to the governor’s mansion, but we were grateful for his generosity.
Chang-wei stayed with us while the city garrison contained the rebel threat. He spent some time sitting with my mother, exchanging polite inquiries and asking after her health, though anyone with eyes could see how poorly she was doing. But Chang-wei was always the gentleman. Finally he excused himself under the pretense of needing to converse with Zuo. As he stood to exit the parlor, Mother rose and spoke quietly. Chang-wei had to bend down to hear her.
I leaned in to catch the conversation, but it was over before it started. Chang-wei straightened and nodded grimly before taking his leave. He met my eyes only briefly, giving me a curt bow before moving past.
If my family wasn’t there watching I would have gone after him, but I had a responsibility to them now.
“How are you, Mother?”
I poured her more tea, but she waved the cup away. She wasn’t yet able to stomach food or drink and could only take a little water without feeling sick. When Chang-wei was there, she’d had taken a few sips merely out of politeness.
“Chen Chang-wei.” She spoke his name aloud, then waited for me to answer her unspoken question. I said nothing.
“You may not remember, but Mister Chen was once—”
“I know, Mother,” I interrupted. “That’s all in the past now.”
“Interesting that the two of you should meet again like this,” she murmured. “Yuan fen.”
Fate.
My face heated beneath her scrutiny, and I bent to rearrange the tea tray, which didn’t need rearranging. It had been years since my mother had been lucid enough to converse like this. We had never spoken as mother and daughter should.
“I hope you didn’t say anything to him,” I said, my pulse skipping. Chang-wei and I had reached an unspoken truce about our failed betrothal. Neither of us spoke of it. I couldn’t bear the shame of dredging up the past now.
“I only thanked him for taking care of my daughter,” Mother said quietly. “Your father was always impressed by that young man.”
He had been right. After being imprisoned by the enemy, Chang-wei had managed to fight his way back and gain a respected position within the Ministry. He was intelligent and steadfast and loyal, but he wasn’t for me. He was never meant for me. Chang-wei had his duty to the empire and a rising position in the imperial administration. I had my family to protect and a name that was still held in disgrace. We would be nothing but a burden to him.
Shortly after, I brought Mother to our room. She and I were to share the bed while a mat had been laid out for Nan and Tian on the floor. That evening we heard news that the rebels who had infiltrated had been subdued and the hole sealed off. The city wall was still intact.
“Changsha will now live or die on the strength of our walls,” Zuo told us.
Just as we would live or die with the fate of Changsha.
In the days and weeks that followed, the city fell under martial law. The markets opened in the morning and closed in late afternoon, several hours earlier than it normally would. By sundown, all the streets were cleared.
There were more guards patrolling the city. No sign of disobedience or unrest was tolerated.
Food and water were rationed, but otherwise Changsha fell into a quiet routine with the inhabitants continuing on as they’d always done, although the mood was certainly subdued. At times, I could almost imagine there was no rebel army surrounding the city, but as soon as I began to relax, the ground would shake again.
Mother started to regain herself, bit by bit. One day, I came into our room to see her sitting beside Tian with a sheet filled with calculations between them. They both looked up and Mother appeared almost embarrassed. An accomplished mathematician in her youth, Engineer Liu Yentai had told me. This woman was a stranger to me, which made our reunion all the more awkward.
I took refuge in activity outside of our lodgings. Just as I’d done in our village. I joined Physician Lo in the refugee settlement to treat the sick and dispense herbal cures. What he had mistaken for mad dog disease we discovered was a violent form of opium sickness, similar to what Big Gao had suffered. The sufferers had to be tied down while seizures and tantrums wracked their bodies. I had yet to see anyone recover from it.
Though I hadn’t believed him at the time, Yang had been correct. The affliction struck addicts as well as the occasional smoker. Specific batches of opium appeared to be tainted as the affliction came in clusters. Whether or not the opium had been deliberately manufactured had yet to be proven.
As morbid as it sounded, I considered trying to take samples of blood from the afflicted just as Yang had done. But I didn’t have Yang Hanzhu’s knowledge of alchemy. Even Yang had admitted that the practice of bio-alchemy was very much still a mystery. Blood was a much more difficult riddle to solve than the reactions of purer elements and compounds.
I found myself thinking of Yang and what he would have said about everything happening here. Is this the demise of the empire that he had predicted? Would he have joined the rebels in their cause or stood by us in our fight? There was no way to reach Yang to share my thoughts or discoveries. He was adrift on the open sea; a man without a country.
Whenever Lo and I weren’t treating patients, we wrote up edicts for the street hoppers to paste up over the city warning people of the tainted opium. One afternoon, I had just finished loading the automaton with a stack of yellow notices and winding it up when I spotted an opium den right in the middle of the street. It had no shortage of patrons.
There was no stopping the tide. One would think after being under siege for so long, the supply of opium would have dwindled by now.
I tried to reach Chang-wei at least once or twice a week. I usually did so under the guise of inquiring about the siege because there was a deeper question I was afraid to ask. It was too difficult to speak of such intimate things in person, but I was no bolder in writing.
What of us? I wanted to write, but didn’t dare. Was he thinking of me at all, or were his thoughts completely occupied with duty and the defense of the city?
At first his answers were brief. He was always deta
ined by one task or another and when the replies stopped altogether, I had my answer. There was no yuan fen between us. We were only together due to circumstance and necessity.
Our kiss was just one of those moments to be lost in time.
But I couldn’t forget the things he’d said to me. And the way his lips had pressed against mine, both hard and soft all at once. When I closed my eyes, I could almost feel his arms around me once more.
Yet when I opened them, I would always find myself alone, surrounded by the cool air as the summer turned to fall. The siege had lasted over a month.
Supplies were scarce and the marketplace hardly functioned anymore. People still bartered and traded for goods as needed, but the mood was becoming subdued. Sullen.
“Ripe for rebellion,” Zuo observed.
He had been promoted to the position of councilman based on his valiant efforts organizing the volunteer militia. It seemed I still held a position of esteem in his eyes, so Zuo continued to give me reports.
They had intercepted ten separate tunnels, he told me as our respective families sat around the dinner table. Just that day, the scouts in the sewage tunnels heard digging and they sent an advance party to intercept the band of rebels underground.
“Engineer Chen was able to devise a strategy using controlled explosions to carve out a path to the rebels without causing the ground above to cave in. He is quite resourceful.”
I nodded, ducking my head to scoop rice into my mouth. I could feel my mother’s knowing gaze on me. The woman who had emerged from beneath the opium haze was entirely too perceptive.
Then again, she was my mother with a mother’s sharp eye. And after hearing nothing from Chang-wei for so long, I wasn’t hiding my emotions very well.
Later that night—because I was desperate for some word from him, because I missed him—I handed a letter to Zuo with hopes that he would be willing to act as messenger for me.
The letter was different from the others. I didn’t write about the state of the city or everyday events.
Tell me how you are, I wrote him. We worry about you. Then boldly, I worry about you.
The next evening, the councilman let me know that the letter had been delivered. He said nothing of a reply. I waited two days before sending along another. If one letter wasn’t impertinent enough, two was a scandal. After that, I forbade myself from writing again.
Chapter Thirty-three
I was assisting Old Man Lo one morning in the refugee settlement when the mechanical sedan rolled up to us carrying a functionary in a black robe. He appeared no older than I was as he bowed low and addressed me formally.
“You have been summoned to the citadel, miss.”
Physician Lo dismissed me with a wave. “Go on.”
I climbed into the transport, noting that the dents and scratches from my haphazard driving had not yet been repaired. The directions back to the citadel were already set on the abacus, and one pull of the lever set the sedan in motion. The appointed messenger sat opposite me, his shoulders stiff and chin high.
“May I ask who has summoned me?”
“You have been summoned to the citadel, miss.”
No help there, then.
The entire way to the citadel, I wondered what could be so urgent. When we reached the gates, the guards parted to let the sedan enter, and I was lead up the stairway and onto the fortress wall once more.
A tall figure stood waiting for me in the lookout tower with his back turned to me.
Chang-wei. My heart nearly stopped and I could hardly breathe.
“Come see,” he said gently, beckoning me over.
I had feared there would be awkwardness between us; a rift that would take too long to repair. But he looked the same to me. He felt the same as I took his side. I was the one who was different. I felt as if my chest would burst and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. They wanted so desperately to reach out and touch him.
I clasped them in front of me as we both turned to look out onto the surrounding area. What I saw made my stomach drop as if I were plummeting to the ground.
The city was surrounded by the rebel army. There were thousands of them. Tens of thousands. The camp formed a new horizon stretching out to where land met sky.
“I received your letters,” he confessed. “But the war council had a strict order of silence. We had made the decision that none of the civilians could know of what we faced out here. It would incite the people to panic.”
“Or encourage any rebels within the city to rise up,” I murmured. Just looking at the force gathered around us made me sick with fear.
“But see there?” He handed me a spyglass and pointed. “They are moving on.”
Indeed, through the spyglass, I saw that the western part of the camp had been disassembled and packed. The others were doing the same, taking down tents, hitching up wagons.
“How can you be certain they’re leaving?”
“We’ve destroyed their tunnels,” Chang-wei replied. “That was their element of surprise and their main advantage.”
I would have thought their sheer numbers would be their main advantage. We would have to arm every man in the city to match such a force. No one in the imperial court anticipated the rebel army would grow so strong.
“There is something else.”
Chang-wei reached around me to angle the spyglass upward. His arm brushed against my shoulder as he did so, sending a shudder down my spine.
He had to know how I felt about him. He’d read my letters—letters in which I’d said nothing of an intimate nature, but I’d rambled on with no purpose. And when he’d kissed me, I’d returned it.
Standing next to him now, I could feel every pulse, every breath elevated within me. It felt so good to finally be beside Chang-wei once more, speaking to him.
He was not unintelligent. He was brilliant! Yet he made no mention of anything that had passed between us. Maybe none of it was worth mentioning. Chen Chang-wei was meant for greater things.
I squinted into the spyglass and tried to target the point Chang-wei had directed me to. The tiny smudge came into focus, and I saw a great dragon in the sky, its mouth gaping and scales gleaming red. No, not a dragon, but a dragon boat floating in the air.
“The Yangguizi are not the only ones with airships,” he said with an air of satisfaction. “But we’ve kept our fleet hidden until now. The rebels will have seen the dragon ship. They know the imperial eye is trained onto them, and they’ve decided to move on to an easier target.
“Imperial ground troops have been unable to penetrate through rebel territory,” he continued. “With the airships, the Emperor can bypass the blockades at the rivers and byways. Imperial battalions can be maneuvered and positioned deep into enemy territory. With any luck, the imperial army will be here soon to help restore order.”
“But you had meant to use these weapons against the Yangguizi.”
“Doesn’t this army pose just as much of a threat?” he indicated the rebel horde.
“Is Changsha safe, then?” I asked.
“I hope so. Soon we’ll be, but the Long Hairs are moving their fight elsewhere. This rebellion is far from over.”
And he would continue to defend the empire, whether it be from rebels or foreign devils or anyone else who threated the land.
I looked up at him, tracing the line of his profile to commit to memory. My chest squeezed painfully. This is where we parted. Chang-wei to his imperial cause and me to Mother and Nan and Tian. Our family might not be able to return to the village, but we would find a place somewhere.
“You know that you have a hand in this victory,” Chang-wei said as I returned the spyglass to him. “You and your brother have done the empire a great service.”
So formal once more. “It was merely our duty to the throne,” I replied sullenly.
“Do you mean that, Soling? About duty?”
I frowned at him. Was he expecting an oath of loyalty from me here and now?
“Come with me.”
My heart leapt. He wouldn’t ask it if he didn’t mean it, and in that moment, I wanted to. I truly did.
“I can’t.”
“The empire needs good minds. People who are willing to think and adapt.”
Just as quickly my heart sank. I didn’t want to hear about the empire right now.
“The Emperor had all of the great thinkers exiled or executed,” I pointed out bitterly.
“Soling, the Emperor is dead.”
At first, I didn’t believe him. After everything that happened here, it seemed impossible there were even larger catastrophes.
“We received a message this morning.” Chang-wei said. “Prince Yizhu must now take the throne. He was the one who dispatched the airships, but everything is being kept secret until he can gather his forces.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
He looked at me, his gaze holding onto mine. “Because I trust you.”
My pulse skipped and I had to look away.
Even though I claimed no love for the Emperor, I still felt the loss deep inside. This was the man who had my father executed out of ignorance. Why should I mourn for him?
But to us, the Emperor was both a man and the Son of Heaven. For his death to happen now, right as this rebellion was taking root and foreigners had invaded our port. The entire kingdom would be thrown into turmoil.
Chang-wei was relentless. “Prince Yizhu needs strong counsel, now more than ever, Soling. He’s willing to listen. The Emperor’s death at this time can either destroy our kingdom, or it can be the beginning of a new era.”
“The empire will rise or fall without me,” I muttered.
What I said must have sounded like treason to him. How could I not want to redeem my family name in the eyes of the throne? How could I not want to serve the glory of the empire?
