Gunpowder Alchemy (16 page)

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.

True to my suspicions, the crafty businessman took advantage of my presence in his shop. “Miss, you don't appear to be from Wuhan. If your travels take you far, you should consider arming yourself. A woman especially needs to be protected.”

I shook my head and thanked him for the news. Even as I left the weapons stop behind, I could hear him calling after me, “I can make you a good deal!”

Uncertainty filled my head with frightening scenarios. When I found Mother and Tian, I wouldn't leave them alone again. I'd find a way to take care of them so we no longer had to cower from anyone, whether it be bandits or government officials.

There was a long alleyway in the next section. Looking down it, I saw two men heading into an unmarked doorway at the end of it and knew immediately what sort of establishment it was. An opium den.

The dens really were in every city, in the same places were citizens bought chickens and bolts of cloth. As the men turned to enter, I recognized two of the crew from our boat.

I kept on moving. It didn't matter to me what distractions they chose to pursue. All they had been hired to do was get us to Linhua village. Yet I couldn't help the sinking feeling in my gut.

The poison was everywhere and impossible to eradicate. Rice was scarce in Hunan province and the wells were running dry, but the supply of opium would continue to flow.

***

I returned to where the transport ship was anchored after my round through the marketplace. My final purchase had been two cups of cold plum juice over ice from a stall near the docks.

The deck was empty, which I realized was fortunate. I hadn't thought to bring any refreshment for the crewmen. Then I remembered where I had seen two of them and I no longer felt remiss.

Chang-wei was at the rear of the craft. The hatch to the engine compartment was open, and scattered around it was a layer of metal pipes and cogs and screws.

“Careful!” he barked when I set foot into the area. “Every part has been laid out in an exact spot mapping to its original location.”

He was sitting on the floor with a scroll laid out before him on which he was marking said mappings. A spark lantern rested beside him.

“I brought food,” I said.

“Thank you. That's kind of you.”

He sounded less than grateful. He was distracted, perplexed, his mind still entrenched in its task. I sank down in the corner, making sure to not upset any of the parts as he'd warned.

I spooned some of the sweetened ice and let it melt on my tongue as I watched him work. He continued sorting pieces, making detailed notes on the scroll at each step.

The ship was little more than a floating raft while Chang-wei tackled his engineering project, but I had to trust him. As I observed his meticulous approach, I realized Chang-wei was a master engineer; of an entirely different class than Old Liu Yentai.

Engineer Liu had treated his machine as one would a horse. He knew its moods and eccentricities. He petted it and fed it and listened to the noises it made. Chang-wei was a man of exacting standards. He wouldn't tolerate such unpredictability.

I thought it would be dark outside before Chang-wei looked up from his task, but a moment later, he carefully cleared a path and came to sit next to me. The cups of ice hadn't yet melted, so I handed one to him.

“So you decided it was worth the effort?” I asked, indicating the scatter of parts.

“I believe this will increase our speed significantly and only cost us an additional day here in Wuhan.”

“With all this to put back together?”

“If I work all night,” he added.

I couldn't help smiling.

“What is it?”

“When my father was working, he would often forget to eat or sleep.”

Chang-wei returned the smile with a wistful look. “Master Jin was a good man. If you will forgive me for being so impertinent, he was like a father to me as well.”

We fell silent beside each other. At home, we rarely spoke of my father, but his memory was with me all the time.

“You're very much like him in many ways,” I told Chang-wei, then decided I was being too personal. “That was why I brought you lunch—so you wouldn't go hungry.”

He took the fried cakes from my hand with a look that I might describe as fond. A ball of warmth floated like a spring lantern in my chest.

As we sat beside each other, with my lips cool and pleasantly numb from the ice, I grew very aware of every detail about Chen Chang-wei. There was the tiny crease in his brow when he was preoccupied with something. The shape of his mouth, which was too serious to smile often. His hand was resting on his knee, placing it in close proximity to mine. If I stretched out my fingers, we would touch.

Of course, we didn't touch. Ours wasn't that sort of relationship.

Did he ever regret what had been lost between us? Was that why he was being so kind to me? Maybe he was sorry to see how far my family had fallen.

At first I had thought that, betrothal or no, Chang-wei meant nothing to me. Over the last eight years, I barely thought of him as anything other than a name to be forgotten like the rest of our past. But now I couldn't stop thinking and wondering. For the first time since I had lost my father, I was allowing myself to dream of what could have been. But only in silence.

Chang-wei finished the humble meal I had scavenged together and thanked me. When he went back to work, he beckoned me to join him. With the diagram in hand, we began gradually rebuilding the engine together. Or rather modifying it to Chang-wei's specifications.

He instructed me on what pieces to hand over, what fixtures to use to rebuild individual modules.

“You have a good eye for detail,” he said, though I suspected it was just empty flattery. I didn't mind.

Just as I'd suspected, we worked late into the evening with a short break to snatch dinner before it was back to affixing bolts and seals.

“You can go to sleep if you're tired,” Chang-wei suggested after I yawned for the third time in a half hour.

“No, I'm fine.”

I lifted the lantern up so he could see better. We had lit several other lanterns around the hold, and Chang-wei had put on his spectacles to magnify the tinier components.

Despite my valiant efforts, my eyelids began to droop within minutes.

“I've been thinking about your family,” Chang-wei said as he finished tightening a bolt.

My ears perked up.

“Once we find your family, I'll take them safely to Peking,” he promised.

“That's too much to ask, Chang-wei.”

“You didn't ask; I offered. How else can I repay the debt to your father?”

How I wished he had given another reason. One that didn't have to do with debt and honor.

“Let us take care of one thing at a time,” I insisted.

In many ways I was like my father, a person of concrete details, of cause and effect. What gave me comfort was a task in front of me, no matter how difficult. A problem that could actually be solved. It gave me no comfort at all to imagine the impossible.

I woke up to the crackle of fire, which snapped me awake, but it was only Chang-wei stoking the flame in the incinerator. All of the parts that had been littered throughout the engine room were now neatly replaced into the engine.

“Larger combustion chamber,” he said proudly. “And a new piston system. Most of the parts were intact; they just needed to be fastened together.”

I rubbed at my eyelids. “That's very clever,” I said between yawns. I glanced about and saw a hint of daylight streaming from above deck.

I had excused myself for a nap and curled up in the corner to the ping and clank of his tools. After what felt like the blink of an eye, morning was here. Chang-wei must have not slept at all. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, but at the same time there was an eagerness that vibrated through him.

“Once the fire gets hot enough, we can introduce gunpowder into the chamber. Then we'll know for certain.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“It's completely controlled,” he insisted. “I fashioned an outer shield around the chamber. If the reaction becomes unstable, we'll be protected.”

I didn't need to remind him how many of his colleagues, including my own father, had worn mechanical limbs due to gunpowder experiments gone awry.

“You may want to stand back a little,” he said on second thought.

I retreated just outside the engine room while Chang-wei fed more wood into the incinerator, watching the needle on the gauge the entire time. When it tipped into red, he measured gunpowder into the chute and began turning the crank. A moment later, the engine roared to life.

I jumped with delight. “It works!”

Though his eyes shined with pride, he didn't celebrate yet. “We need to run it for at least half an hour. See how it handles the heat and pressure.”

He pulled out a silver watch on a chain from his pocket to check the time. It was another reminder of his exposure to the West.

“Is the madman blowing up my ship?” The captain approached to look over Chang-wei's shoulder.

“Captain Deng.” Chang-wei was still watching his clock but gave a brief nod anyway. “We're ready to take the ship on open water.”

The engine rumbled as the valves and pistons chugged away. A system of pipes vented the smoke, leaving a faint smell of sulfur.

Deng apparently approved of what he witnessed. “The crew will be ready in an hour's time.”

He left us to go above deck.

“It was generous of him to allow you to rework his ship,” I remarked.

“I believe he can easily afford two new vessels with what Burton paid for this voyage.”

“Generous of Mister Burton as well, then. He's been a great help to us.”

“An old debt,” Chang-wei said simply. “With the new improvements, it is my hope that we'll be in Changsha in four, maybe three days' time. I won't know for certain until we can clock the speed.”

He pocketed his watch and pulled a lever to bring the engine to a stop. I noticed the firearm from the previous night had been hooked onto his belt.

“That's a foreign-made pistol,” I remarked.

The design was markedly smaller than the hand cannons and fire lances used for protection in the provinces. There was something almost dishonorable about a weapon that could be so easily hidden.

Chang-wei seemed uncomfortable that I had noticed he was wearing it. He adjusted his robe so that only the handle could be seen.

“There is something you should be aware of for the next part of the journey,” he began. “We may encounter some adversaries that we need to outrun. That's why I felt it crucial to fix the engine.”

I was reminded of the news I'd heard at the weapons shop about other rebel factions becoming emboldened by the Heavenly Kingdom rebels. When I told Chang-wei of it, his expression darkened.

“As I feared, the danger is closer than we thought. The official report in Shanghai mentioned that the imperial supply lines had been disrupted, impeding the army's progress in defeating the rebels. I suspect there was more that wasn't being said.”

“What would that be?”

“That supply ships are being ambushed on the rivers. The imperial army isn't faring nearly as well as they claim to be against the rebels.”

“Why would the report lie?” I knew the answer before the last word had left my lips.

“To save face,” Chang-wei confirmed. “Do you have your needle gun? Your war fan?”

I nodded. Thankfully I hadn't needed to use either.

“Only use them if you have no other choice,” Chang-wei advised. “If we encounter any trouble, stay down below. Deng and his men are armed, and this ship should be able to outpace any river pirates on the water. We'll get to your village in time to keep your family safe.”

The weight pressing down on my chest increased twofold. “You can't promise that.”

“I will do everything I can. I can promise you that.”

When we climbed above deck, the captain was directing a bleary-eyed crew. Only two were present with two missing. After sending the men off ship, the captain turned back to us.

“Apparently a few of my men have overindulged in their entertainments onshore. We'll haul them back and be ready in an hour.”

I didn't feel it necessary to tell him that I'd seen the two missing crewmen at the opium den. That was their affair, not mine.

Captain Deng took his leave of us and we returned to our private quarter. The moment Chang-wei lay down on his berth, he was asleep. I was tired as well and had just dozed off when the sound of voices above deck indicated the crew had returned.

Drowsily, we went out onto the deck to see the two late arrivals. One of them had to be carried back up the gangplank by his arms and ankles.

“That last pipe sent him into a stupor,” his companion was explaining. He looked haggard as he stood before his captain. “I kept waiting for him to wake up, but he could barely walk.”

As fortune would have it, the opium smoker was the heaviest of the crew, a stout man they called Big Gao. Puffing from the exertion, they released him onto the deck in less-than-gentle fashion, but he didn't flinch.

I took the liberty of approaching him as the other crewmen caught their breath.

“When was his last pipe?” I asked as I pressed fingers to his wrist to find a pulse.

“Late last night. After the first hour, for certain.”

“Any effect of the opium should be long gone by now.”

Considering his companion had been in an opium haze as well, I couldn't rely on his estimate. Gao's pulse was weak, but when I lifted his eyelids, his pupils shrunk beneath the sunlight.

“Drag that lazy dog into his bunk,” the captain said in disgust. “He's lost a day of wages and earned himself a thrashing when he wakes up.”

With that, the captain straightened and composed himself before turning to us. “One hour, Mister Chen, just as I promised.”

***

Chang-wei's suspicions had me looking around every bend for an ambush, but the river was thick with boats as we left Wuhan. The new engine propelled us through the water at a good speed, and with our size, we were able to break away from the larger ferries and cargo ship and leave them far behind.

“You may have just made me a rich man!” the captain laughed.

“This is nothing. Just a small improvement,” Chang-wei denied.

Deng gave him a sly, sideways look. “You're not just some lowly machinist, are you, Mister Chen?”

Chang-wei said nothing.

After getting my fill of the wind on my face, I went back down to check on Gao.

Everyone else on board was busy with their duties, so he had been left alone to sleep off the drug. He hadn't yet awoken and his breathing sounded shallow.

It was odd. Opium did cause lethargy and drowsiness, but it wouldn't render a man unconscious for hours. The two of them had likely been drinking as well.

Unrolling my acupuncture case, I pulled out a needle and pricked it to the man's hand. A harmless test that caused no injury, but his fingers should have jerked in response. He remained still. I tried a similar prick against his jaw, which should have caused his face to twitch even if he were in a drugged state.

“Is there something wrong?”

Chang-wei came up behind me.

“This seems to me like something more than opium smoke,” I explained. “I want to make sure he's all right.”

“He could still be drunk.”

“I thought of that, but he's not reacting to anything.” I clapped my hands close to the boatman's ear. “Wouldn't a drunk be quite irritable? Turn his face away from the sun or groan when his comrades dropped him? His friend said he's been out for most of the night already.”

“That does seem unusual.”

Chang-wei inspected the case with the acupuncture needles I had laid out. I realized this was the first time he'd seen evidence of my trade.

“You're trained as a physician?” he asked.

“I apprentice with our village doctor. It's how I keep my family fed.”

He nodded, looking over the implements with fascination.

I hadn't been entirely honest. Aside from bartering my services and a few coins from Old Lo, we had survived by selling off our family heirlooms, but I had accepted so much charity from Chang-wei that I wanted to hold on to some sense of pride.

“Would you believe there's an opium den even in our dusty little speck of a village?” I asked him. “Most of us are poor, yet there's enough opium for the villagers to feed an addiction just like the wealthy in Peking.”

Once the words started pouring out, I couldn't stop them. The person I was cursing was none other than my own mother. I could feel my heart growing colder and blacker. I hated that she had stopped living her life. I hated that I had needed to go to Changsha to barter for not only food, but enough opium to keep her docile.

“The drug is everywhere,” Chang-wei agreed sadly. He looked closer at Gao now that I had voiced my suspicions. “There's little we can do for him but wait.”

“Unless he stops breathing.”

Chang-wei didn't reply. His look was one of resignation. “He chose his fate.”

I was surprised a man of science would be such a fatalist when it came to the frailties of the human body.

“Have you ever smoked opium?”

He was taken aback by my question. “It was common to indulge in a pipe at the entertainment houses in Peking.”

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.