Gunpowder Alchemy (15 page)

We left the hotel for dinner, ending up in a narrow alleyway where we watched an automaton crank out egg noodles between its gears and rotary cutters. The vendor then fried up the fresh noodles along with a handful of scallions, chilies and spices. We ate while seated upon upturned crates.

It was street food, greasy and cheap, and the best meal I could remember having in years. We were surrounded by the laborers and servants who worked in the foreign concession tending to the foreigners. Though they were peasant folk, we had more akin to them than the
Yangguizi
who dined in the restaurants and drinking houses.

Yet Chang-wei didn't wish to return to the walled city. Here, we were temporarily hidden from his masters; one of the reasons he had removed his state robe. For what we had to do, it was better not to stand out as a government official.

Afterward, neither of us was eager to return to the hotel where we were openly unwelcome. Instead we walked along the outer bank of the river. Activity at the docks had slowed in the evening. Most of the vessels had moored for the night. Occasionally lanterns could be seen hung from the decks. Other boats were dark and silent as they swayed in the water. A line of airships floated high in the sky, tethered to the docking towers concentrated to the north of the riverfront.

“There are so many of them here,” I murmured.

“And more every day. Our Middle Kingdom is a land of riches. For the taking.” His tone remained neutral as he spoke. Chang-wei could be impossible to read at times.

“I still don't know what your stance is.”

“My stance?”

“On the
Yangguizi
. On being robbed every day by them.”

To the left of us were the major trading houses that had been established by the foreign merchants. Chang-wei had informed me that it was more than just
Yingguo
or England laying claim to our kingdom. There were trading houses set up by a land called “America” as well as the “Netherlands,” but I thought of them all as
Yangguizi
.

“The situation is complicated.” He strolled with his hands clasped behind his back. “The foreigners are entrenched here and have been for years now. You can see that with your own eyes. They can't simply be swept out like dust on a broom.”

Though we were strolling out in the open, with the evening breeze on our faces, we felt secure that no one was spying on us. The foreign inhabitants of the settlement always cut us a wide path when they came near. We had also slipped into the Peking dialect, which was more natural between us. It had the effect of further shielding our conversation. Mandarin was much less common in the trading posts than Cantonese.

“It is important to know who among the foreigners wields influence. Who are the names who can get things done? Who can be useful allies?”

I remembered how Ming-fen had accused him of being a sympathizer. It was akin to being called a traitor in many circles. I mentioned that to Chang-wei and a dark look descended over him.

“It's not the first I've heard of it,” he said tersely.

“But it's not true.”

I was hoping he would deny it and reassure me, but Chang-wei continued to evade the question.

“Whether I sympathize with the Westerners is irrelevant. I'm trying to build a future for our kingdom, one where we can remain strong rather than one where we are forced to surrender more every day to our very invaders. That vision sometimes requires I make friends of our enemies.”

“But it's dangerous to walk that line.”

“I know,” he returned, his tone uncommonly harsh. “I understand that very keenly, Miss Jin.”

I'd somehow offended him. It was time to change the subject. “How did you meet Dean Burton?”

His frown didn't quite fade. “Aboard a ship when he was first traveling to Shanghai.”

What sort of ship would have those two men together on board? I kept quiet, hoping to hear the rest of the story.

“He came to me and offered to pay for my services.”

“What kind of services?”

“Burton needed someone to act as a guide in this exotic new land. He didn't know the language or the people. Didn't want to be ‘duped,' as he called it. I had lost what little fortune I had after being dismissed from the Ministry of Science, so I accepted.”

“So he was your employer?”

“I suppose you could say that. What he needed from me most was my honest appraisal of a situation, education on how to handle himself with potential business partners. All the small pieces that hold the large pieces together. He came to trust me over two years working together.”

“And you came to trust him?” I asked.

Chang-wei didn't answer at first. When he did, it was only in a single word: “Enough. I trust him enough.”

Something wasn't quite right about his story. “You said Burton hired you to be an interpreter?” I asked.

He nodded, and I patched what I had learned just that day together.

“Mister Burton couldn't speak any Cantonese at the time he met you, and you were surprised today that he had picked up a few phrases.”

“That is true.”

“Then how did he communicate with you?” I asked pointedly. “How did he know you could help him?”

I could see Chang-wei was caught from the way his expression blanked. “It must have been mostly through gestures. I had picked up a few phrases in his language.”

I realized then why Chen Chang-wei did well for himself by remaining honest.

“You're a poor liar,” I told him.

“Only when I try to lie to you,” he said gently. “I should know not to do that.”

He stopped to face me there on the riverfront. Behind him, I could see the flicker of the gas lamps used to light the street. The shadows danced over his face, highlighting his cheekbones and the line of his jaw.

“They call their language ‘English,'” he began. “I spoke it fairly well by the time I met Dean Burton.”

“Have you always known how to speak it? Where would one study it?” I asked incredulously.

“Before the war, it was only spoken here and there among the merchant class in China. There are a few missionary schools in the port cities as well, but no, English is not commonly studied among the scholar elite in Peking. I learned the language of the
Yingguoren
after being forced onto one of their ships.”

It was a more polite term than
Yangguizi.

I stared at Chang-wei, at a loss for words. After the final battle of the war, the Ministry of Science had fallen apart. Father had been imprisoned. So many of his men had been stripped of rank. Others had just disappeared.

“I was in the citadel at Wusong,” he explained. “Directing the cannon fire. It was a failed endeavor from the start, as your father knew. But we had to fight to the end, which I did until the moment I was taken by the
Yingguoren
.”

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.”

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 overpowered 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.