The Opium

Lord’s Daughter

A Novel Based on Historical Events of the First Opium War

By

Robert Wang

Copyright © 2019 by Robert Wang

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. It draws on the historical events surrounding the First Opium War, and many of the real-life persons associated with those events appear in this work as characters. However, insofar as this work expresses any opinions or theories about the First Opium War or persons involved, those opinions and theories are solely the product of the author’s imagination.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Edition, 2019

Editing by The Artful Editor

Cover design by Singer Design Studio

Interior design by Damonza

ISBN: 978-0-578-50292-2 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-0-578-50291-5 (e-book)

Published in the United States of America

I dedicate this book to my family:

—to my wife, Cindy, who has stood by me and supported all my endeavors for over forty years and to whom I owe every ounce of true joy I have ever felt.

—to my most accomplished, kind, and beautiful daughters, Stephy (whose face is featured on the front cover), Jenny, and Lisa, who make me whole and so very proud!

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Resources

Author’s Note

Every superpower in history has had a dark side—you could argue that it’s a prerequisite—but history, written by the victors as it is, tends to emphasize the glory days more than the dark ones. Ask any college student what they know about the French Revolution, and most will have some knowledge of what happened and how it shaped the modern world, but ask the same students what they know about the Opium Wars, and I doubt many will have heard of them. Yet the Opium Wars between China and the British Empire played a meaningful role in how China, now a superpower, relates to the Western world, both economically and politically.

I grew up in Hong Kong, a place known to most of the Western world as a tourist destination, a glittering marketplace of luxury goods and exotic dining. But the island has a dark past. It was ceded to England as a British Crown Colony as the result of the First Opium War, which ended with the Nanking Treaty of 1842. Kowloon and the New Territories were leased from China for ninety-nine years in 1898, and on a rainy July 1, 1997, all of Hong Kong, Kowloon, and the New Territories were returned to China, ending an era that the Chinese referred to as one hundred years of shame. As a modern-day superpower, China is making it clear to the world that it will not be bullied by a foreign power ever again.

The term “Opium War” already implies that it had to do with drugs, but how did a military conflict take place over an illegal drug? There are history books written about the two Opium Wars, but the general public is woefully uninformed about the causes and outcomes of these wars.

I wanted to write a historical novel about this conflict between England, the superpower of that time, and China, the world’s most populated country (over four hundred million people in the 1840s). England wanted Chinese luxury goods such as porcelain and silk, and the British were addicted to tea, importing millions of tons per year. But China would only take silver in trade, which would have bankrupted the British treasury. So what did England do? It decided to sell opium to China for Chinese silver and then use that silver to buy those coveted Chinese products. After twelve million Chinese citizens became addicted to the drug, disrupting the social order and corrupting government officials at every level, the emperor acted to halt the trade.

The main characters in this novel are fictional, but I also incorporated real historical figures and events to tell the story. If the lines are blurred and the reader is engaged, then I will have succeeded in sharing the history of the First Opium War without the reader having to crack a history book. I certainly welcome readers to explore the subject further to get a true historical perspective, and I have included a list of excellent resources at the end of this book.

I took some liberties to simplify the many complex details that a history book would have included to keep the reader interested, so I apologize in advance to those with a passion for strict accuracy. My goal is to tell a story that is powerfully relevant to our times, when opioid addiction is once again in the headlines. England was an institutionalized drug pusher in the nineteenth century, supporting smugglers and sending the Royal Navy (the best in the world at that time) to attack China to protect “free trade.” Illegal opium imports to China more than doubled after the First Opium War, with the full knowledge and support of the British Empire.

It has been a longtime ambition of mine to write about the Opium Wars. Growing up in Hong Kong, I witnessed the remnants of its effects more than one hundred years later: rickshaw pullers, coolies, ordinary people, all strung out in public; families destroyed by addiction; and the robust drug trade that fueled the so-called Triad gangsters who took over the opium and heroin trade. I have witnessed firsthand how certain “colonial masters” in Hong Kong treat their “Chinese subjects”; I have experienced racism, arrogance, and the pompous behavior of British colonial secretaries who felt they owned Hong Kong. Those attitudes have changed in recent decades as local business tycoons have taken over Hong Kong’s economy, especially since the handover of Hong Kong back to China. For many years these experiences colored my beliefs about the British. It was not until I visited the United Kingdom in the 1990s that I realized that most British folks are indeed “gentlemen and gentle ladies”—sincere, down to earth, and quite civil.

My view of the opium trade also changed as I began my research for this book. Of course it was morally unjustified and completely wrong for England to use opium to trade for Chinese merchandise, but the environment of runaway corruption, poor government policies, ignorance, and fear of the outside world in Imperial China played a key role in making it possible for England to get into the opium trade in such a big way. The Imperial Court did not welcome Westerners—or any outsiders—let alone trade with them, unless it was for something China needed, and China didn’t need anything from England, or so its people thought. China certainly could have used an upgrade to its ships and weaponry from the navy that made the British Empire an unparalleled global superpower, but the Chinese were too proud to accept foreign technology.

The Imperial Court despised the “white foreign devils” because they didn’t understand them. Many of these early Westerners were in China to spread a religion that centered around one deity and his son who saved the world—a belief that threatened the Imperial Court, as the emperor was anointed by the heavens to rule the world. Everyone in China lived under rules set forth by key philosophers: Confucius, Lao-Tzu, and Mengzi, to name a few. The only acceptable religions were Buddhism and Taoism. The Imperial Court did not want outside forces meddling with the best management tool they had for a large and diverse population with a long history of rebellion.

History is more than academic theories—it is the stories of real people affected by events put in motion by other real people. I hope that by the end of this book, you, the reader, come away with an understanding of how and why the Opium Wars took place and are intrigued by both the fiction and the history. I’d like to leave you with the words of Thomas Arnold, a British educator and historian, written on March 18, 1840:

This war with China…really seems to me so wicked as to be a national sin of the greatest possible magnitude, and it distresses me very deeply. Cannot any thing be done by petition or otherwise to awaken men’s minds to the dreadful guilt we are incurring? I really do not remember, in any history, of a war undertaken with such combined injustice and baseness. Ordinary wars of conquest are to me far less wicked, than to go to war in order to maintain smuggling, and that smuggling consisting in the introduction of a demoralizing drug, which the government of China wishes to keep out, and which we, for the lucre of gain, want to introduce by force; and in this quarrel are going to burn and slay in the pride of our supposed superiority.

Fu-Moon, February 26, 1841

Lee Da Ping, his hands shaking, watched as gray dragons breathed fire, spewing smoke that spun into rose petals and then burst into fireworks. The hulls of the junks glowed red where sailors had painted them with dog blood to ward off the foreign devils, and the markings transformed into snarling canines with fiery eyes. Da Ping, at the age of fifteen, had been addicted to opium for two years, but he had never experienced a high like this. He forgot all about resupplying the cannons that were supposed to protect the fort just outside the mouth of the Pearl River. Fu-Moon, meaning Tiger’s Gate, was the last defensive line protecting the city of Canton, together with a handful of island forts with Chinese war junks and rusted cannons. With or without Da Ping’s efforts, it didn’t have a prayer against the British armada.

The Nemesis, built in Liverpool, represented the best seafaring technology in the world, made possible through the technological development brought about by the industrial revolution in Britain. It was the first steam-powered British warship cased in iron to protect its wooden hull, and its armaments included two pivot-mounted thirty-two-pound cannons, four six-pound cannons on swivels, and a contemporary rocket launcher. Many British warships with similar firepower were sailing into battle against a fleet of wooden junks with weapons that had been out of date for decades.

Chinese weapons and navigation had rivaled those of the Western world for centuries—China had, after all, invented gunpowder and firearms. But the empire had become complacent. The Imperial Court refused to believe that a faraway foreign power would ever attack, and its current ships were more than enough to put down any pirates or petty rebellions.

Da Ping was convinced the gunboats were morphing into something supernatural that would rain death on his people.

“I must tell General Kwan!” he shouted to no one in particular over the roar of the enemy guns. “These cannons are worthless. Let the foreign devils sell the fucking opium and buy the fucking tea and silk—whatever they want!” As an addict, he didn’t see what was so wrong with a free flow of opium off the foreign ships anyway.

Enemy troops on landing boats were already approaching Fu-Moon’s shores, and he felt he should alert General Kwan so he would send more troops to fight them off. Da Ping thought he saw the general—or someone who looked like he was in command—so he summoned what felt like boundless stores of courage and leaped up to get this man’s attention. Cannonballs be damned—the opium had made him invincible.

Chapter One

Canton, 1826

Screams of excruciating pain rang out through Lord Lee Shao Lin’s home, the largest private estate in Canton. Shao Lin’s daughter, Su-Mei, at four years old, had shocked her parents by refusing to have her feet bound, as all noble little girls did at that age. He couldn’t believe she would dare disobey him—it was unheard of! If she didn’t start her foot binding now, to attain the “gold” standard of feet no longer than three inches when she was fully grown, her feet would grow to normal size, and she would be the laughingstock of the noble class. So, he had had her tied up and the binding forced upon her. She bellowed in protest.

In a room nearby, Su-Mei’s mother and Shao Lin’s Number One Wife, Mei Li, was in labor with her second child and also crying out in pain. She had secretly taken the herbalist’s potion to induce labor so she would give birth before Number One Concubine Yu Bing. Both were racing to earn the honor of delivering Shao Lin’s Number One Son. Both women prayed earnestly for a son, but the goddess Kuan Yin would answer the prayers of only one.

Lee Su-Mei screamed as loud as she could, out of frustration as much as from pain. The sound bounced off the silk hangings on the walls and seemed to drop to the floor. No one heard, no one came to her rescue. Her ankles had been tied with long ribbons to the legs of a low stool, and her wrists were crossed behind her back and tied together, then tied to the back legs of the stool. Master Fu had tantalized her with the silk ribbons, so long and pretty! He had said they would give her the most beautiful tiny feet, just like her Honorable Mother, and all the pain would be worth it when she was a proper lady with a wealthy husband from a noble family. He had bent over her toes and wrapped them tightly to the soles of her feet in an attempt to break them, and the bones throbbed. She couldn’t move, couldn’t tear off the ribbons that were causing such agony.

Lord Lee Shao Lin felt that he’d already suffered enough inconvenience for one morning. Number One Wife had started her labor about the same time the foot herbalist had come for Su-Mei’s binding, and the house was in disarray, every servant rushing here and there to boil water and heat blankets or fetch the midwife and the astrologer. There had been nothing but tea and cold noodles for his breakfast, and now the best foot herbalist in the city was failing to control a small child.

“Tie her up!” he had ordered. “If she will not obey, she must be made to obey.” The firstborn daughter of Lord Lee Shao Lin, one of the wealthiest men in Canton, would marry into the family of a high-ranking guan, and to do that, she would have to have small feet. How his daughter’s feet reached that size was none of his concern.

Lee Shao Lin couldn’t have explained why Chinese men were so attracted to women with feet so small that young girls were forced to have their toes broken and feet reshaped into dainty little hooves. The feet, trussed in silk bandages, were of no use; they made it impossible for women to walk without pain even in adulthood. When little girls’ toes rotted away from lack of circulation, the stench was overpowering, and the servants had to use the most expensive perfumes to disguise it. There were ratings for bound feet: The smallest, at three inches in length, were “gold”; four-inch feet were “silver”; and anything over four inches was dismissed as “iron.” Women with gold feet could command a husband from the wealthiest and most respectable families, but to win such a prize, a girl had to suffer excruciating pain from the beginning of the binding process until adulthood. Countless women who had achieved the gold standard subsequently lost their lives in fires or other disasters because they couldn’t run away to safety on their tiny, useless feet.

Foot binding dated back to the tenth century, when the emperor’s most-favored concubine was a dancer with tiny feet. She had bound them to reshape them into little hooves. Other concubines who sought the emperor’s attention began binding their feet, and the practice spread among noblewomen. Habit and erotic fancy among the idle rich had kept the practice alive, and Lee Shao Lin would keep it going in his house. The tantrums of a child could not be allowed to hinder her bright future.

Master Fu, with the help of a household servant, had managed to tie Su-Mei, kicking and screaming, to the stool. Then he had packed his ribbons and strong-smelling ointments and left. He would return the next day to tighten the binding.

Alone now, Su-Mei struggled, trying with all her strength to break or stretch the ribbons. As she wriggled on the stool, warm liquid flooded her pants and tunic. Her cheeks burned with shame. She was a big girl, nearly five years old, and she hadn’t wet herself in years! She hated Master Fu, and she hated her father. Ragged sobs tore at her chest, and huge tears dripped down her face. Furious, she tried to wipe them on her shoulders, but she couldn’t reach.

“My lady?”

Su-Mei’s head snapped up. “Bao?”

A round face appeared in the doorframe. It was the maid of First Concubine, who Su-Mei knew as Second Mother. The maid’s name wasn’t really Bao, but everyone called her that because she was so short and fat, like a dumpling.

“Bao! Where is everyone? Can you let me go? Please, please! I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hush, my little lady—stop your crying.” Bao wiped the girl’s face with her sleeve and bent to untie her arms and legs. “Don’t you know? Everyone is busy with your Honorable Mother. She is about to give you a baby brother or sister!”

Su-Mei sniffed. She didn’t think she wanted a baby brother or sister. “Where’s Nanny?”

“Nanny is helping her grandmother with the birth preparations.” The last knot came loose. “There! That’s better, isn’t it?”

Su-Mei tore frantically at the bindings on her feet. When she’d ripped them free, her toes went from white to deep red, and pain streaked up her legs. It would take minutes for the agony to abate; nevertheless, she was flooded with relief. “Oh, thank you, Bao!” She pointed at her dressing table. “Master Fu left me some sweets—that is all I can offer you for helping me.”

The packet of sesame candy wrapped in rice paper disappeared into Bao’s pocket. “My lady, please remember—not a word to your Honorable Father about this. If you tell anyone I was here, I’ll be whipped, and I won’t ever help you again.”

“I promise, Bao. I’ll say I did it all myself.”

“And everyone will believe you, my lady.” Bao gave Su-Mei a crooked smile. “I’ve never met such a defiant child in my whole life, refusing to follow her Honorable Father’s rules and traditions.”

Su-Mei kicked at the stool and the scattered ribbons. “I hate rules and traditions!”

“Not all rules and traditions are bad, my lady. You may find them helpful one day.” She glanced up the hallway before leaving. “And now I must fetch your Second Mother some almond cakes and tea. With all the fuss, no one brought her any breakfast this morning.”

“Did you do it?” Yu Bing set down the novel she had been pretending to read.

“Yes, my lady,” panted Bao, hurrying into the room with a tray. “It was just as you said—the poor little girl was screaming in pain. I thought at first it was Lady Mei Li in her labor, it was so loud.”

Yu Bing winced, recalling her own first bind. “And you must keep doing it. Help her to take her bindings off every time, and soon it will be too late, and she’ll never have gold feet.” A wicked smile lit up her face. “And Sister Mei Li will feel the shame of having an unmarriageable daughter with big, ugly feet.”

Bao nodded. “And a rebellious one too! Remember how Lord Shao Lin used to dote on her? She was so bright and talkative, but now she dares to revolt instead of obeying her parents’ every command, and at such a young age!”

Yu Bing laughed. “Don’t worry too much about little Su-Mei. She is still the daughter of a very wealthy lord, and granddaughter of the highest-ranking guan in Peking. She’ll do fine.”

Lee Shao Lin’s father, the Honorable Lee Man Ho, was a senior Imperial Court magistrate at the ministerial level. After passing the provincial exam at age eighteen, he was ranked number one among the candidates who sat for the imperial palace exam. He began his government service as a level five guan, even though most candidates started down at level nine. After twenty-five years of providing sound advice and wise ministration to the emperor, he was promoted to level one guan at the age of forty-three, the youngest ever to reach this status. It was quite common for high-level guans to leverage their power for tremendous personal wealth by granting favors, and Lee Man Ho was not immune to the temptation. He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps and increase the already impressive family fortune, but Shao Lin was not the studying kind.

Shao Lin was a clever man—just not a studious one—and he learned quickly how to benefit from his father’s connections and wealth, which opened doors for him that were not accessible to very many citizens in Canton. Customs officers were the most corrupt of government officials, and they let opium from British smugglers through. Those who wanted to be promoted invited young Lee Shao Lin to partake in lavish entertainments in the hopes that he would put in a good word for them with his father in Peking. At an early age, Lee Shao Lin was exposed to the opium trade in Canton and realized the tremendous gains to be made—the opium trade showered everyone involved in profits beyond their wildest dreams. British smugglers, including William Jardine, the most prolific of them all, brought millions of pounds of opium into Imperial China, and most of it passed through the port of Canton as a result of an ill-conceived and ineffective imperial edict. Canton proved fertile ground for corrupt officers at every level.

More than half a century earlier, in 1757, the Imperial Court had decreed that foreign cargo could be unloaded legally only in one port, Canton. The emperor meant to limit the influence of foreign cultures on his people. This didn’t stop British smugglers from traveling up the coast to sell opium in other provinces, however; they were breaking the law no matter where they unloaded this cargo. In a few years, the underground economy created by the illegal opium trade had generated more income than the real economy, and the opportunities of illicit wealth it presented for magistrates and guans were often too lucrative to pass up.

It didn’t take long for Shao Lin to be completely seduced by the wealth he saw around him. Through his connections at the Customs Office, which wholeheartedly supported him, he became an opium dealer important enough to deal directly with William Jardine himself. The only problem was that Shao Lin didn’t speak English, and he didn’t trust any of the low-level traders who did. Jardine solved their problem by introducing Shao Lin to a Jesuit priest who spoke fluent English, Chinese, and Portuguese, one Father Afonso of the Sao Lourenco Church in nearby Macau. British smugglers more commonly used Protestant missionaries as translators, but most of them communicated with Chinese merchants in pidgin. Few Chinese spoke English fluently, and even their pidgin, mixed up with Hindustani and Portuguese, was difficult for the missionaries to understand. Jardine wanted someone who spoke proper English and Chinese when dealing with Lee Shao Lin, who, as the son of a high-level guan, had never been exposed to pidgin.

Shao Lin was untouchable as a result of his family’s social and political status, and he worked hard to project the image of a righteous nobleman. Those who were aware of his involvement in the opium trade knew better than to speak such shameful allegations against the son of a level one senior guan in Peking.

Within a few years, Shao Lin had become wealthier than he ever imagined. All along, he was discreet to give his father no cause for suspicion. He set up a legitimate business front distributing tea and silk, and because aristocrats looked down on merchants, Shao Lin, like most successful merchants, bought himself a low-level guan title that came with no specific duties, thus earning the respect of the Cantonese community. It was a simple matter of donating a significant amount of silver to the Imperial Court, and then everyone had to address him as “Lord Guan” or “Mandarin” and marvel at his bodyguards and entourage—all without studying for a single exam.

Lord Lee Man Ho, a legitimate level one guan with critical court duties in Peking, was too busy to spend two weeks traveling each way to and from Canton just to check on his family affairs. He was disappointed when his son wrote that he had not passed the provincial examination and had decided instead to enter the business of trading tea and silk. To maintain the family stature, Man Ho succumbed and used his influence to help his son purchase a low-level title so he could retain his own social position.

With his new wealth and title, Shao Lin built himself an enormous estate: over twenty acres with a man-made lake, gardens, courtyards, and pagodas where his servants brought him tea. The estate required a staff of forty workers, not including personal servants. It was the envy of all Canton and a target of jealousy for those who knew the true source of Shao Lin’s wealth. To complete his ascent in status, his next acquisition then had to be a wife. His mother, employing the services of a professional matchmaker, selected a noblewoman for him, and Shao Lin was married with great fanfare. His father returned to Canton for the wedding and was shocked by the stupendous success his son seemed to be enjoying in the tea and silk business. Man Ho wondered briefly whether Shao Lin was really involved in the opium trade but chose not to question it further. Better not to know, he thought.

On their wedding night, the first time he met his wife, Shao Lin was powerfully aroused when he saw Mei Li’s dainty feet. He thanked the heavens that his Number One Wife was so beautiful. Soon, however, his voracity turned to disappointment when it became evident that she did not possess much interest or skill in pleasing his Jade Stalk. It was some consolation that he would now have good reason to spend his considerable wealth on concubines who would minister to his every need.

Mei Li’s prayers were answered, and she bore a son after an entire day of labor. In the excitement following the birth of Lord Lee Shao Lin’s Number One Son, no one seemed to notice Su-Mei or recall that she shouldn’t have been able to walk around freely. By the time Shao Lin noticed his daughter’s unbound feet, he was so enthralled with his heir that he decided not to force the issue until his newborn son, Da Ping, had survived his first month.

The next few weeks were filled with celebrations: the boy’s first bath, his Red Egg Day marking the date he had been alive for one lunar cycle, the fireworks that were set off on the estate grounds to announce that Lord Lee Shao Lin had a son and heir. The family fortune-teller noted a birthmark on the infant’s temple, the likeness of a small copper coin, and proclaimed that young Lord Lee Da Ping would enjoy tremendous wealth in his lifetime and blaze a path of glory across the sky.

Su-Mei continued to refuse her binding no matter what Shao Lin did, and he finally gave up, disappointed and resentful that his daughter was so rebellious and disobedient. Yu Bing bore another girl and quickly lost his affection as well, and he shifted all his attention to his Number One Son. Even when, two years later, Shao Lin acquired Concubine Number Two, and she quickly bore him a son and a daughter, bringing the household total to three wives and six children, he still placed all his faith in his firstborn son.

Despite all the attention her little brother received simply for being born, Su-Mei did not resent him one bit. She sat with the baby for hours, singing and chattering, and as soon as he could toddle and play, they were inseparable. Neither sibling particularly enjoyed the company of the other noble children who came to visit; they mocked the whiny little lords who were afraid to climb trees or chase ducks and the simpering little ladies who could scarcely hobble on their bound feet, let alone run and play.

“Why are they like that?” Da Ping once asked his sister. “Why are you different?”

Su-Mei shrugged. She didn’t know, but after months of threats and tears and the ashamed resignations of five foot herbalists, her parents had given up on their dream of a daughter with gold feet. Dong-Mei, Second Mother’s daughter, had dainty feet and a biddable disposition, but Shao Lin took little interest in the girl, and neither did his other children.

Su-Mei believed life would go on like this forever in her father’s palatial estate: surrounded by servants, racing Little Brother around the lake and over the charming bridges that crossed it, eating multicourse dinners of delicious pork, fish, and vegetables with her Honorable Father and Mother, Second Mother—and in time, Third Mother—and her sisters and brothers, and attending festivals in downtown Canton or at the local temple. There was nothing else in the world, as far as she could tell.

But when she turned sixteen, three important things happened. First, the servant who had always dressed her hair in neat buns on top of her head, wrapping them in silk ribbons, changed Su-Mei’s style to that of a woman: her hair was clipped up at the top of her head with delicate ornaments and allowed to flow freely down her back like a smooth black waterfall. Second, her mother began meeting with matchmakers, who examined her closely and shook their heads over her big feet. And third, her beloved brother had less and less time for her.

With Da Ping approaching the age of thirteen, one day his father sat him down in the private study for the first of many father-to-son lectures about the responsibilities and privileges of being Number One Son. Shao Lin did his best to sound regal, authoritative, and paternal to convince his own son to follow the path he hadn’t been able to stomach in his own youth.

“You are to be tutored by the best scholars in the region,” Lee Shao Lin said, “and you will memorize the classics and the teachings of Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu—”[1]

“Will Big Sister study with me?” Da Ping interrupted.

“Da Ping, you are Number One Son. You are the future head of this household, you will be a leader in your community, and you do not need your sister to help you in any way. She is a woman—a woman with unbound feet, so no respectable noble family will ever marry their son to her, and she will end her life as an ugly spinster. You must think for yourself and forget that rebellious girl. She has no respect for her father and mother.

“Listen carefully, Da Ping,” Shao Lin continued. “Your sister flouts the teachings of our Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu and the wishes of her parents. I would have her thrown into a well if it would not upset your mother. I’ve let her live this long only because she is my firstborn and because I’ve seen how much she has meant to you since you were born.” Shao Lin almost convinced himself that this was true.

“But it’s time for you to be a man now and forget that you have such an ungrateful and disrespectful sister. She will never marry well, and I will have to bribe some low-level noble family to take her for their son just so we don’t lose face. Do you know what a burden that is, Da Ping? Our ancestors are scolding me from beyond the grave for this travesty. Forget your sister—you are your own man now, do you hear me?”

Da Ping saw the fury in his father’s eyes, and he knew better than to defend his beloved sister. What am I going to do without Big Sister? he wondered, but he nodded and bowed to his father like a good and respectful Number One Son.

The next morning, Su-Mei knew something was wrong. Da Ping was not sitting outside her bedchamber waiting for her to come out to play. She found him in his room crying.

“What’s wrong, Little Brother?”

“I’m supposed to be all grown up and not play with you anymore, Big Sister, but I don’t want to grow up! I only want to play with you, but Honorable Father said you have big, ugly feet and no respect for your parents.” Da Ping sniffled, unable to look at her. “I like your feet, Big Sister!”

“Don’t you worry, Little Brother,” Su-Mei said. “Big Sister will still play with you! We’ll go climb the big tree today, the one you’re still a little afraid of—what do you say?”

“I can’t. Honorable Father said I have to play with other boys now, but I don’t want to!” He started to sob.

Su-Mei had always known her father would train her little brother, Number One Son, to take over the responsibilities of the family, but she never suspected that he also intended to separate them. This realization only made her resent her father more, which caused her crushing guilt. These feelings were deeply unfilial and against the teachings of Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu.

“Little Brother,” she said softly, wiping away his tears, “even if Honorable Father keeps us apart, even if he marries me off to some hideous dolt in the country, I will always be watching out for you, and when you need me, I will find you.”

[1] Western scholars know this sage as Confucius.

Chapter Two

Bombay, 1838

They look like duckpin bowling balls, Travers Higgins thought. Same size, only lighter, but these buggers can fetch a bloody fortune! He chuckled to himself. And Mr. Jardine is certainly not sending his fastest clippers around the world to sell bowling balls. Higgins held in his hand a round cake of opium that he’d lifted from a mango wood chest, one of hundreds in the hull of the Jardine and Matheson schooner Scaleby Castle, his third commission as chief navigator since working for the Jardine and Matheson Company. The cargo was en route to the Canton Whampoa to be sold to Chinese opium dealers for Chinese silver. Within days dealers from Jardine and Matheson and the East India Company would use the same silver to purchase Chinese silk, tea, exotic spices, porcelain, and other goods and return them to eager buyers in England and the rest of Europe.

Higgins had grown up in Yorkshire, the son of a third-generation coal miner. His father had worked hard his entire life to feed the industrial revolution’s ravenous demand for coal, until the black lung disease made him too weak to go down into the mines, but Higgins had never seen or imagined the kind of wealth this one chest of opium would bring.

As a child, Higgins displayed signs of a powerful and inquisitive mind, and his schoolmasters had told his parents that he had an opportunity to do something other than mining, something that would bring a higher wage and a longer, healthier life. Young Travers exhausted his masters with questions about faraway lands and foreign habits; he had the soul of an adventurer. When he was nine, he began recording facts and bits of history in notebooks in his sloppy schoolboy’s scrawl. He filled notebook after notebook, stacking them carefully in a crate under his bed.

When he turned sixteen, he felt drawn to a career as a sailor. He knew about the Orient—that exotic home of tea and silk and other fancy goods coming off the merchant ships that arrived regularly in London. Higgins wanted to see the world and earn some money, and merchant ships to the Orient seemed like his best option. He applied in Glasgow to study steam engineering, but he lacked the necessary connections, so he applied and was accepted into the Marine Society, a hundred-year-old institution that trained young men for maritime careers, and graduated with top marks in navigation after one year in training. He took a berth on the Red Rover, Jardine’s opium clipper bark. The Red Rover was bound for India, but how that connected to purchasing tea from China was still a mystery to Higgins.

“So how does this opium run connect with the China trade?” he asked his team captain, Joseph McNeil, after an evening at a public house to celebrate his graduation and first commission.

McNeil nearly dropped his mug in surprise. “You don’t bloody know?”

“No, sir, I do not,” said Higgins.

“Well, lad, it works like this. We want what the Chinamen make, but they don’t want to trade for anything we’ve got to offer except sterling. But we’re spending more on Chinese tea and other goods than we’ve got in the exchequer. So what do you think we do?”

Higgins thought carefully. “We offer something they do want?”

“Good lad. We found something they did want, and we sold it to the yellow bastards for their own silver, which we handed back to them for tea and silk and porcelain!” McNeil pounded the public house table. “What do ye think of that, lad?”

“And the Chinamen want opium?”

“Want it?” McNeil snorted. “Once we started selling so much of it, the buggers got bloody well addicted to the stuff. Can’t get on without it. Which works out well for all of us, eh?”

Higgins tried to imagine a land where everyone was besotted from smoking opium. “They just lie around and smoke it all day? Lawfully?”

“Not at all, lad, it ain’t, but the bureaucrats are so bloody corrupt we can do anything if we pay off the right Chinamen bosses.”

Higgins scratched his head. “But we’re breaking Chinese law, then?” He changed the direction of his questions. “So we buy the opium cheap in India, is that it?”

“Aye, it’s bloody brilliant! No better place to grow the stuff than India. Comes from poppies, did ye know? The East India Company has a monopoly, which means no one else can sell it. So we look the other way while English merchants buy the opium and transport it to China on their ships, pass it by corrupt Chinese customs men, and sell it to Chinese dealers, who peddle it all over China. The Chinese dealers pay the merchants in silver, and they use it to purchase tea and fancy goods.” McNeil paused. “Bloody pathetic—so many of the monkeys are smoking it that Mr. Jardine can’t keep up. He’s got to build more ships and hire more young lads like you to sail ’em. And thanks to the East India Company, not one other country can get a part of the business. God save the king!” McNeil lifted his mug.

“But, sir, how long can this last?” Higgins wondered.

“As long as Mr. Jardine has ships and His Majesty has India,” said McNeil. “Can you imagine giving up tea—or paying a hundred times as much for it?”

Higgins was still curious. “And what’s it like, opium? Why are so many Chinamen smoking it? And how much are we shipping, do you reckon?”

“Damn me, but you ask a lot of questions, lad!” McNeil drained his ale and wiped his mustache with the back of his hand. “From what I hear, it takes away all a man’s pains. Makes life slip by like floating on a cloud. And I expect most of those yellow buggers have plenty of misery to smoke away, kowtowing to the rich man, carrying burdens on their backs like bloody donkeys. And once they get a taste for it, there’s no stopping ’em. Which is good for business, eh?” McNeil paused. “As to how much are we shipping, fellow who keeps the books for Mr. Jardine told me it’s more than a thousand tons a year. A thousand tons!” He shook his head in wonder. “Can you even imagine?”

Higgins set sail on the Red Rover as second assistant to the navigator, excited to begin his career as a world traveler. As soon as his ship docked and he was given leave, Higgins set off to explore Bombay. The people in their outlandish clothing, the smell—and taste!—of the food cooking in street stalls, the jasmine incense drifting over market tables of vegetables and spices, the doe-eyed women—it was all new to Higgins and everything he had hoped for. His penmanship had improved considerably, but he had never lost his habit of taking notes, and he recorded everything with care each night before he dropped into his bunk. The other sailors mocked him good-naturedly for it, calling him Shakespeare, but when there was any debate to be settled, they began calling on Higgins as an authority on many topics.

The East India Company was everywhere Higgins looked. It had its own militia of 250,000 men, he learned, and the company appeared to be in control of everything. It had received its royal charter from Queen Elizabeth in 1600, twelve years after England defeated the Spanish Armada. English merchants saw great opportunities for trade in the East Indies after the Spanish ceded control, and the East India Company was one of the first to take advantage of the freshly opened markets.

Higgins watched wagon after wagon arrive at the docks, each packed full of opium chests. Indians and Persians working for the East India Company conducted auctions of the opium out in the open like any other commodity, and the bidding was brisk.

Before the Red Rover sailed for China, Higgins spent an evening at the officers’ club to try to learn a little more from the old Asia hands. Immediately he noticed a senior East India man holding court; when the conversation turned to China, Higgins sauntered over and offered to stand a round. He was wholeheartedly welcomed by the more experienced officers.

Higgins listened intently for a while, and when there was a lull in the conversation, he spoke up. “So why is it so easy to sell opium to the Chinese if it’s illegal there?”

“Well, that’s a question that will take some time to answer,” the older man replied in a lilting Indian accent.

“I’ve got all night, sir, and I’d love to learn about China before I get there,” Higgins said eagerly.

“Then allow me to introduce myself before I begin. My name is Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy. I was born and raised here in Bombay, but my parents are from Persia. I traded opium and cotton for the East India Company for several years before taking a position with the Jardine and Matheson Company. Now, you could say, I am a principal trader of opium for the company. Anything you wish to learn about the China trade, I will enjoy sharing with you, young man.”

“Travers Higgins, sir, second assistant to the navigator on the Red Rover. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir!” Higgins could hardly believe his luck.

“So to answer your question of why is it so easy to sell opium in China,” Jejeebhoy continued, “it’s because the Chinese make it easy.” He laughed out loud. “Those in charge are so corrupt that you can buy your way into anything. They have all these bloody rules and imperial edicts about the opium, but not a one is enforced with any consistency. Every customs officer is in someone’s pocket, all the way to the top brass—what we call the mandarins—in the capital. The profit is so high, and the amount of opium is endless, so there’s more than enough bribery money to go around.”

“These mandarins,” said Higgins, “who are they?”

“They are government officials,” Jejeebhoy replied. “One begins by sitting an exam at the provincial level. The smart lads who pass the provincial exam then travel to Peking to sit for the imperial palace exams. Those who pass the imperial palace exams are awarded a high rank, and they act as judges and magistrates. We call them mandarins, but they call themselves guans, which simply means high officials.”

Higgins was puzzled. “Why do we call them mandarins, sir, and not guans?”

Jejeebhoy gave Higgins a look that the younger man had become accustomed to seeing on the faces of his masters and superior officers. But instead of cutting off the endless stream of questions, he smiled. “Mandarim is a Portuguese word. They were among the first Europeans to trade with China, long before we got there, you know, and ‘mandarin’ is what we’ve always called the upper-crust Chinese officials.”

Higgins was puzzled. “So these mandarins run the country?”

“Not exactly. China is ruled by an emperor, anointed by the heavens and treated like a god himself, and the guans answer to him. He has the last word on everything, but,” he paused for effect and winked, “the emperor only knows what his advisors tell him, and those advisors, who are the highest-ranking guans, are more concerned with saving their own skins and fortunes.” Jejeebhoy paused, then added, “And the guans have their very own hierarchy. A level one guan is as high as it goes, and the power diminishes all the way down to a level nine, a rank with very little power attached to it. Anyone with enough money and a well-connected friend or two can buy a low-ranking guan title and the respect and social position that come with it.” He smiled at the look of astonishment on Higgins’s face. “Imagine if one could be a Member of Parliament without being elected or having any experience whatsoever. And something else, nearly every guan will do favors for money—it’s a part of the ruddy culture.” Jejeebhoy smiled. “Now I think you are beginning to understand the China trade, young man.”

“Traders with opium bribe the right man and make pots of money so they can bribe even more guans to bring in even more opium?”

Jejeebhoy nodded. “And the guans are collecting bribes from the opium traders and from the Chinese merchants who are selling the stuff to their own people, many of whom would sell everything they own to keep their pipes full. So yes,” he nodded wisely, “highly illegal, my boy, thoroughly prohibited, as you can see.”

Higgins went to bed that night with his head whirling, and not only from the strong whiskey. Jejeebhoy’s information kept him up for hours, and he wrote everything he could remember in his notebook. The Parsi had given him some valuable background about the East India Company as well. It represented half the world’s trade in silk, indigo dye, tea, and porcelain as well as opium, which it sold almost exclusively in China.

In the seven years since Travers Higgins sailed from London, he rose to the rank of first officer and chief navigator in Jardine and Matheson’s private fleet of opium-smuggling ships. He was a skilled navigator, and he never lost his ravenous curiosity about foreign parts. In 1837, His Majesty King William IV died, and his niece, Victoria, succeeded him. The opium trade, already at 1,200 tons in 1838, continued to expand, with no end in sight.

Chapter Three

Canton, 1839

Just as his father had planned, Da Ping was kept busy with tutors and visits from the sons of other noble families. It wasn’t long before he began to believe in his own importance, with so many people treating him like a prince. In less than a year, Da Ping’s ego became so inflated that he began to test this power over others that his father and tutors told him he possessed, but deep inside, he felt insecure and convinced that he would never be able to handle the responsibilities his father spoke of. He wanted only to spend his days playing and enjoying the luxuries his father’s wealth provided. He had been coddled and pampered from birth as Number One Son, and he saw no reason why that should change.

Su-Mei began to lose touch with Da Ping as he was swept into this world of privilege and fawning sycophants, which was also her father’s plan. She was seventeen now, a woman of marriageable age, and her family was abandoning her. “Why?” she said to herself, holding back tears. “Because I didn’t want to have my feet bound and I don’t want to marry someone my parents choose for me?”

Contrary to the teachings of Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu, Su-Mei openly defied her parents and refused to be shown to a matchmaker representing another noble family. This family bore a heavy debt that Shao Lin promised he would repay if their only son would marry his daughter. He was getting desperate because Su-Mei was approaching eighteen years old, and soon she would be too old to marry anyone, let alone a nobleman. Even Da Ping was angry at his sister over this refusal; the potential husband happened to be part of Da Ping’s entourage, a young man who flattered him constantly—as instructed by his father—and Da Ping thought he’d make a perfect brother-in-law. He tried to persuade Su-Mei to at least meet the matchmaker.

Su-Mei’s response was quick and terse. Da Ping was no longer on her side, and he had already changed into someone she no longer knew or could talk to. Their relationship was reduced to polite exchanges in public, much to the approval of their father.

To drive an even bigger wedge between his children, Shao Lin devised a clever plan to separate them physically. One morning, after breakfast and before his first meeting of the day, he summoned his daughter to his study.

“Su-Mei, I will give you one more chance. Will you meet with the matchmaker who may be able to join you to a noble family—at significant cost to me, which is the only way I can manage to attract a husband for such a defiant and ugly-footed daughter? And will you be civil and act like a proper, dutiful young lady?”

Su-Mei shook her head vehemently. “No, Honorable Father, I won’t marry someone who is indebted to you and needs your money.”

“Other fathers would have you whipped for your insolence and force you to marry anyway,” snapped Shao Lin. “But I have another punishment in mind—I am taking you with me to Macau.”

Su-Mei was shocked into silence. Her father had never taken her anywhere.

“My interpreter, Father Afonso of Sao Lourenco, tells me of a boardinghouse for young ladies who refuse to marry. As punishment, they are forced to study all day long in small, bare rooms.” Something must have been lost in translation for Shao Lin to interpret a convent as a place to punish young ladies who refused to marry, but it sounded like just the thing for his wayward daughter. It will straighten out this little fool and keep her from getting in the way of her brother’s development into manhood, he thought. Fifteen days there with those foreign devils and their strange habits, and she’ll come back begging for us to find her a husband!

Su-Mei listened to her father drone on about filial respect, about honor and reputation, the teachings of Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu, and how spending time in solitary confinement without the luxuries she was accustomed to would be the proper punishment for refusing to meet the matchmaker. She did not want to argue and cause a greater rift between them, so she bowed her head and accepted this severe punishment of spending half a month away from home in a quiet room on her own. In her heart, however, she was elated. It sounded like a welcome holiday from her nagging parents, the puerile boys who followed her brother around like pet ducks, and a future as Number One Wife to some man whose family owed her father a debt.

Macau was a Portuguese settlement on the western side of the Pearl River, a day’s travel by riverboat from Canton. Portugal had leased the land from China in 1557 for a trading post, and because the Portuguese envoys managed their relationship with the Imperial Court with great respect and humility, the Portuguese were granted numerous concessions not afforded to other foreigners. They were able to bring their own religion and culture to Macau without Chinese interference, which made life there a very pleasant experience for Western visitors and residents. And Portugal’s singular entry into the lucrative China trade by way of Macau became the envy of all Europe.

The Dutch, always eager to jump into international trading alliances, also wanted to establish a foothold in China. They hoped to take Macau for themselves. Holland had established a trading post in Japan at Hirado Nagasaki, but it couldn’t compete with Portugal—no other nation could get so close to China. Holland had a superior military and decided it would try to take Macau from Portugal. It attacked in 1601, 1603, and 1607 but failed every time. The Chinese didn’t take sides in these conflicts and watched with amusement as these European powers tussled over a pocket of land.

In October 1622 the Dutch invaded Macau with a force that drastically outnumbered Portuguese defenses. Macau was doomed to fall. The invasion force had landed and was marching toward the center of town when a Portuguese priest by the name of Giacomo Rho fired a cannon that hit a wagon filled with barrels of gunpowder in the middle of the invading troops, killing many soldiers. The invasion failed as a result, and the Portuguese considered their victory an act of divine intervention. They held on to Macau for another three hundred years.

Many opium smugglers owned lavish homes in Macau. It was their preferred port of call to enjoy European culture in Asia while they waited for the winds that would send them back to England in the fall, their ships loaded to the gunwales with highly sought after Chinese products after the busy summer trading season.

Lee Shao Lin had kept his children within the family compound their entire lives, rarely allowing them to go into town, where they might see opium addicts, foreign devils, and common merchants. They grew up sheltered from the world outside until their father determined it was in their—or his—best interests to learn more about it. Su-Mei had never even seen a Western person before. She boarded a luxurious riverboat with her father a few days later on her first journey out of Canton. Competing with her fears about staying in a strange place where she knew no one was profound relief that she would not have to hear a single lecture about filial duty from her father for fifteen days.

Lee Shao Lin and his entourage were greeted by Father Afonso when they disembarked in Macau.

“Welcome to Macau, Lord Mandarin Da-Guan. Your thousand-gold little daughter is beautiful,” he said in flawless Chinese. He noticed with surprise that his patron’s daughter had unbound feet peeking out from below her fine clothes. “Shall we begin our journey to the convent?”

Su-Mei stared in awe through the curtains of her sedan chair as she passed through the busy streets of Macau. She was stunned by the sights and sounds: foreign devils walking around, wearing long swords at their waist and strange headgear, with brightly colored uniforms that made them look even more peculiar. She saw foreign men and women walking side by side, sometimes even touching each other or speaking in public. The men protected the women from carts rumbling past and mud in the streets, as if they were precious. The foreign women strode rapidly in their strange, billowing clothing, with their heads held high—there was nothing wrong with their feet. “I must learn the ways of these foreign devils,” she said to herself. “They have traveled a long way to come here, but why? Why would women want to go on a ship to come all the way to our Celestial Kingdom? How gigantic their ships are!” The docked British ships she’d spotted in the harbor in Canton and Macau had looked very different from the familiar wooden junks.

The entourage of sedan chairs arrived at St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, not far from St. Paul’s, a beautiful church that had recently burned to the ground; only the façade remained standing. Shao Lin was surprised that there was no welcoming party to greet them. Don’t these foreign devils know who I am? he thought, irritated. Instead, a lone foreign woman, absurdly tall and wearing a bulky black robe with a very large headdress, emerged from what he supposed was their temple. She made her way slowly to the sedan chairs and spoke with Father Afonso. Shao Lin didn’t recognize the language, but he knew it wasn’t English.

The strange woman walked over to Shao Lin and in passable Chinese said, “Welcome to our convent and orphanage. I am called Mother Amanda. Women only are allowed within, so please have your female servants bring your daughter’s belongings inside.” She smiled briefly. “May I be introduced to your thousand-gold daughter?”

Shao Lin tried not to laugh out loud at this strange woman who spoke with such a thick accent and looked directly into his eyes as she addressed him. He called brusquely for Su-Mei.

Su-Mei stepped out of her sedan chair with the help of an attendant, and Father Afonso appeared at her side. “Lady Su-Mei, it is my honor to introduce you to Mother Amanda of the convent of St. Anthony’s. Mother Amanda, this is Lady Lee Su-Mei.”

“Welcome to our convent, young lady,” said Mother Amanda. “We look forward to hosting you for the next fifteen days and teaching you the way of our Lord.” Su-Mei nodded, unsure how to respond. Shao Lin’s face lit up when he heard this, convinced more than ever that it was the right decision to bring his daughter there. He thought “our Lord” referred to him.

The orphanage and convent were across the street from the church in a tall, graceful stone building with high arches above the windows. Mother Amanda and some other European women, also dressed in big black robes, led the way. Su-Mei said a respectful farewell to her father, although her mind was whirling with excitement, and Shao Lin left with Father Afonso to meet with a representative of Jardine and Matheson to discuss business.

Su-Mei’s new room was less than a quarter of the size of her bedchamber at home. This must be part of the punishment, she thought. The room was bare, and the furniture was plain and crudely made. The only artwork in evidence was a small wood carving of a starved man dressed in rags and hanging from a cross beam. These foreign devils have strange taste in art, she thought. On the way to her room, she had noticed that similar carvings were everywhere and assumed that this must be the trend here in Macau. When an artist gained the favor of a lord, many of his pieces would be purchased to decorate a home, so whoever had done all these dismal carvings must have made quite an impression on the lord of the household.

She waited a few minutes, seated on a very hard chair, for the convent’s servants to come and unpack her chests. When no one came, she realized that she was expected to manage this task herself. She began to remove some of her clothing and toilet articles but soon abandoned it out of boredom.

Mother Amanda entered the room without knocking or announcing herself. Another strange habit of the foreign devils, Su-Mei thought. She brought with her a young woman dressed in a similar robe but with a much smaller head covering. This woman looked very different from those she had seen on her way to the convent. Her eyes were narrow, her skin was not as white as all the other foreign devil women, and she had wavy black hair.

“Say hello to Sister Maria,” said Mother Amanda in her strangely accented Chinese. “She will be your guide and tutor in the ways of our Lord.”

“Hello, Sister Su-Mei,” said Sister Maria. “Welcome to our convent and our way of life under our Lord God.” She smiled. The woman spoke excellent Chinese without a trace of an accent, but Su-Mei had no idea what these words meant. She nodded in response. “I will do my best to make your experience here as happy and inspirational as mine has been.”

Mother Amanda spoke to Sister Maria in a foreign tongue, and then she departed, leaving the two young women alone together.

Sister Maria made sure that Mother Amanda was out of earshot before speaking. “They call me Sister Maria, but you can call me Pai Chu when we’re alone,” she said.

“Can you teach me how to speak the language of the foreign devils?” Su-Mei burst out, almost interrupting Pai Chu.

“I can teach you some things, but you’re only here for fifteen days, and it’ll take much longer to learn the language, which is called English, properly.”

“If you can teach me, I will find a way for us to stay together longer,” said Su-Mei. She had already decided on her sedan chair ride to the convent that she wanted to learn everything there was to know about these foreign devils. They were clearly a strong group of people with completely different rules and habits, and, most important, they treated their women as something like equals. By eavesdropping on her brother and his new friends, she had already learned that the foreign devils loved tea, silk, and other Chinese things and were willing to trade opium to get them.

“All right,” said Pai Chu, “but we must keep it a secret as I’m not sure if your Honorable Father or Mother Amanda would approve of you learning English.”

“Even better!” Su-Mei could hardly contain herself. “I want to learn everything about these people and learn how to speak with them.”

Pai Chu examined the young woman in front of her. “How old are you, Sister Su-Mei?”

“I’m seventeen, almost eighteen—how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” replied Pai Chu.

They both covered their mouths and giggled, already feeling like friends.

“Pai Chu?” said Su-Mei, “how did you come to be here in this house full of foreign women? Aren’t you Chinese like me?”

“It’s a long story.” Pai Chu sighed. “Let’s put away your clothing while I tell it to you.”

Su-Mei agreed, and the story her new friend told her made the time pass more quickly.

Sister Maria was named Pai Chu (White Pearl) by Mother Amanda when she was left at the convent as a newborn. She was born to a Chinese farm girl in Macau who was raped by a drunken British sailor. The sailor escaped punishment and returned to England on the next ship, never knowing he’d left a daughter behind. Her mother couldn’t bear to look at a baby with the features of the foreign devil who’d attacked her. She wanted to kill the baby, but her father wrapped up the strange-looking child and left it at the front door of the convent with a message carefully penned by the village letter writer about the child’s provenance. He had heard that the foreign women living there took in foundlings.

Pai Chu was never adopted and grew up in the convent speaking English and Portuguese. At the age of five, she befriended some older Chinese orphans and learned their language as well. Languages came easily to her. The nuns explained that she had been abandoned by her mother, and it didn’t take long for her to realize that she was not the same as other Chinese children. She saw herself as a Chinese girl, and she resented the nasty insults other children hurled at her about being a “mixed seed.” She learned to fight as a result. The fact that she was physically larger than most Chinese girls made her a formidable foe, and Pai Chu was punished many times for hurting boys bigger than she was who had dared to bully and insult her. Pai Chu was a force to be reckoned with.

When she reached the age of ten, the Jesuit teachings of the nuns took root, and Pai Chu became a devout Catholic. But she never lost her tough streak, and her fighting spirit made her a practical person who thought for herself. The only love she’d felt during childhood had come from God, so Pai Chu devoted herself to him and Jesus Christ. Their unconditional love gave her the strength to fight her inner demons.

When Pai Chu reached her teens, Mother Amanda gave her the letter that had been tied to her wrist as an infant, and so she learned the origin of her mixed-race features. As a result, Pai Chu harbored a deep resentment and disgust for British men, especially sailors. It was a British sailor’s fault she had never known a mother’s love. On the fifteenth anniversary of the day she was left in front of the convent, she announced to Mother Amanda that she was eager to devote her life to Christ and become a novice. Mother Amanda was hesitant at first but realized that Pai Chu was a rare young woman with strong principles, not unlike herself at that age when she’d decided to travel all the way to Macau to spread the word of God to heathens.

“She called me a gift from God to make the church stronger,” Pai Chu said as she closed Su-Mei’s trunk and shoved it against the wall. “There!” She clapped her hands together. “All done!”

Su-Mei, usually full of commentary on just about everything, had nothing to say. Tears threatened to escape her eyes as she thought of Pai Chu growing up with no parents or friends, surrounded by foreign devils. But then again, she realized, no one ever tried to tie her up and bind her feet or tell her she was a big, ugly disappointment either. “What does it mean to be a novice?” she asked.

“That means that I am preparing to dedicate my life to God,” said Pai Chu. “After a few years of study and meditation, if Mother Amanda says I’m ready, I’ll take holy orders and become a nun like the others. Instead of marrying a man, I will make my vows to the church.” She glanced up at the wood carving of the skinny man on the wall.

Su-Mei giggled. “You will marry a temple?” She thought for a moment. “Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Chapter Four

Meanwhile, back in Canton, Da Ping was thoroughly enjoying his popularity. Boys and young men from prominent families visited him daily. All these social calls were arranged by his father so his son could learn by example how to act like the son of a powerful man, and the fathers of these boys were only too happy to do a favor for Honorable Lee Shao Lin. When he stopped to think about it, Da Ping was petrified by the knowledge that he was expected to run the family business one day and be a powerful, ruthless man like his father. So he didn’t think about it. I’ll figure it out when the time comes, and then I’ll be as clever as Honorable Father—maybe even as important as Honorable Grandfather, he tried to convince himself, without success.

As much as Da Ping enjoyed spending time with his peers, he also suspected that these new friends were only deferential to him because of the potential favors they were expecting to receive in the future—and because they were obedient sons who feared their own fathers’ displeasure. This troop of monkeys wouldn’t lend me a pot to piss in if I were not my father’s son. But the troop of monkeys were offering him something he desperately craved: admiration and respect, neither of which he had earned on his own merits because he had never been allowed to do anything. His family saw only his future self—the man who would take his place in the family business. His father took no interest in the boy who was not quite a man yet, a youth who lacked any sense of purpose or self-confidence.

His friends’ laughter and praises, insincere as they were, gave him a feeling of importance that he began to crave like a drug. He knew that if Su-Mei were still an important part of his life, she would show him how phony these friends were and make him laugh at his own puffed-up image of himself as a soon-to-be-powerful man. And she would easily replace the false elation he felt around the boys who laughed at his jokes with genuine love and concern for him. But she wasn’t a part of his life now, and he missed her terribly. Thanks to Honorable Father, he’d rarely seen his sister in the past few months, and now she had been taken away to some boarding school in Macau as punishment for refusing to marry.

Chu Sing, the son of Lord Chu Ting, another wealthy guan who had purchased his title and owned ten opium parlors, was part of Da Ping’s entourage. His charisma and good looks made him very popular among the boys. At seventeen years old, Chu Sing had already visited brothels and smoked opium, and he boasted about these activities to Da Ping constantly. Surrounded by older boys who pretended he was worldly and mature, Da Ping often forgot he was only thirteen, and he became very curious about these experiences, which he felt he deserved to taste as someone on the verge of being a powerful businessman.

“When can we go to the Flower Lantern House?” he finally asked Chu Sing. The Flower Lantern was a floating brothel, famous for its young and beautiful ladies of the evening who were well trained in the art of pleasing a man in every possible way.

“You’re way too young to even think about that!” Chu Sing laughed loudly, not even pretending to be respectful.

“Is that what you think? Well, if you want to keep your opium parlors supplied with the best quality stuff when you inherit them, you’d better hope I grow up really soon.” Da Ping felt a surge of pride and power as he uttered those words. This was the first time he’d flexed his power among his friends, and it made him feel good, especially when he saw Chu Sing’s face turn pale. The joking atmosphere evaporated, and the room felt cold. Everyone knew that Lee Shao Lin only dealt in the finest opium that came into Canton and that Chu Sing would need Da Ping’s support when it came time to take over his father’s business.

“Hey, just kidding, big future lord—of course I can take you.” Chu Sing chuckled and slapped Da Ping on the back, promising himself that he would get revenge on this young punk for such humiliation and loss of face. “You want to go tonight? In fact, let’s all go! My treat.” The atmosphere restored, everyone laughed in relief and began making bawdy jokes.

Da Ping felt a moment of panic about being with a woman so soon, especially a prostitute, but he had gotten himself into this situation. He heard himself saying, “Absolutely, but do you think there’s a lady at Flower Lantern who can handle my gigantic Jade Stalk?” The entire group fell to the ground laughing, each one privately hoping it was all a joke. They had no interest in going to a brothel. No one except Chu Sing had had any kind of sexual experience, nor had they believed they would get a chance at it for several years. Many still had the bodies and smooth faces of boys, and the thought of being alone with a strange woman terrified them.

Six privileged youths approached the waterfront, led by Chu Sing. He stopped in front of a large floating building with two levels. Panels were painted in soothing blues and deep, seductive reds, with gold accents around the windows and leading up to graceful arches above the roof. Narrow red pillars supported balconies around the second level and the roof. Next to the main barge was a chain of smaller barges, one next to the other with the width of a barge between them for privacy, all docked around the shallowest part of the harbor. Above the door of each small barge, Da Ping could see a lantern shaped like a flower.

“My friends, welcome to the Flower Lantern House—the finest brothel in Canton!” announced Chu Sing.

The Flower Lantern House, like so many things in Canton, owed its existence to corruption. Houses of prostitution were illegal, but if the proprietor of a legal dance hall paid a large fee to the right person for a license to dock private barges at a specific area on the waterfront, it was understood that the authorities would not question the business that was being transacted on those barges. Naturally, senior magistrates and guans received very special service when they stopped in to perform safety checks on the barges that never went anywhere.

The owner of the Flower Lantern House was Hau Si Si, known to her girls as Hau Ma Ma, or Mother Hau. Hau Si Si and her twin sister, Hau Wah Sum, were renowned for their expertise in satisfying men. Wah Sum lived in Peking and owned the Jade Flower House, an establishment that only the wealthiest men could afford. She personally trained each of her ladies in ways of worshipping the Jade Stalk that were rumored to bring any man to a peak of ecstasy he had never imagined. Sum Ma Ma’s secret methods were said to be unparalleled in China, if not the world, and any man who could afford to visit the Jade Flower House in Peking would never be satisfied with anything less.

Hau Ma Ma greeted the boys warmly when they stepped inside. She was surprised to see Chu Sing bring such young boys to her establishment, but she played along.

“How may we serve you and your esteemed friends tonight, Master Chu?” she asked.

“This is Master Lee, Lord Guan Lee Shao Lin’s Number One Son,” said Chu Sing, “and I want him to enjoy the blossoming of his Jade Stalk tonight, so can you give him your best?”

Hau Ma Ma was thrilled to have in her care a young man with such a gilded future. She knew that most men became loyal customers after their first experience with her well-trained ladies, and this was a man who could grant powerful favors one day.

“Thank you for the honor, young Master Lee!” She spoke with such warmth and bowed so gracefully that Da Ping immediately felt at ease, as though he belonged there among the other great men. “May I provide a companion for each of your friends as well?”

Almost as one, Da Ping’s friends begged off. Hearts pounding in their chests and feeling awfully young, they couldn’t wait to escape from such a frightening place. Many of them really had no idea what went on between a man and a woman, but they were fairly sure they didn’t want to attempt it just yet.

“Fine, run home to your mamas, you bunch of babies,” he muttered. Da Ping would have given anything to join them, but he had strayed too far into this game with Chu Sing, and he needed to prove that he was a man who could handle a woman, even if he was only thirteen years old. He stared in wonder at his surroundings. Ornate, gilded columns stretched up to meet carved dragons and paintings of idyllic ocean scenes. In the noisy and brightly lit dining room, men sat at polished wood tables in the company of the most beautiful ladies he had ever seen, each one dressed in silk and brocade gowns with the necklines loosened just enough to give a glimpse of the treasures they had to offer. Their shining hair was held up with glittering ornaments from which flashing jewels dangled seductively as they tilted their heads. The ladies smiled and laughed, placing dainty morsels of food on the men’s plates or even directly into their mouths with elegant chopsticks. Corners of the hall were hidden by painted screens, behind which, Da Ping imagined, were even more beautiful ladies offering even more sumptuous food and drink to the most important customers. At the center of the far wall, women in traditional dancing costumes swayed gracefully to music on a raised stage. To one side of the stage, a broad staircase led to an interior balcony and several more private rooms behind closed doors. Da Ping was so enthralled that Hau Ma Ma had to ask him twice if he would accept a cup of tea and a warm towel to refresh himself.

“Yes,” he gulped, feeling awkward and shy. He didn’t know where to put the towel when he had finished and quickly dropped it onto a tray as a waiter passed with empty dishes.

Hau Ma Ma summoned Little Spring, an acquisition from Kwei Lin, home of some of the most beautiful women in China. She had been meticulously trained in the art of pleasing men. Little Spring was not so little—and definitely taller than Da Ping, who was so nervous he couldn’t speak. Her clothing was rich with brocade and cut to emphasize her figure, and it was designed so that it could be easily loosened to expose her breasts. Her hair had been plucked in front and parted severely in the center to show off a high forehead. Her round face was artfully powdered, but her eyes, beneath brows that had been plucked and redrawn into narrow half-moons, were warm and kind.

Hau Ma Ma whispered something into Little Spring’s ear, and she nodded. With a smile that could melt a glacier, she pretended she was so shy that she couldn’t even look at Da Ping. Informed that she was dealing with an inexperienced youth who also happened to be the Number One Son of the most important opium dealer in all Canton, she put all of her considerable charm to use.

She took Da Ping’s hand to lead him to one of the smaller, private barges, the best one that was available on this busy night. She led him across a narrow plank from the dock to the barge and then through two sets of doors. As she closed the second one, she discreetly loosened the neckline of her gown just enough to show off her voluptuous, firm breasts. The room was dimly lit with more flower lanterns and contained a large, comfortable-looking bed at one end and a narrow opium bed next to it. In the middle of the room was an ornate table set with a wine jug and cups and a few dishes of light refreshments. The furnishings and the art on the walls were of the finest quality, as well made and costly as anything Da Ping had at home.

Sweet, resiny incense smoke filled the room, making him a little dizzy. Da Ping could feel his own heartbeat, and a cold sheen of sweat was forming on his forehead. He felt a powerful urge to empty his bladder but was too embarrassed to do anything about it.

Her young client was fidgeting and looking as though he desperately needed to urinate. Little Spring sized up the situation immediately.

“Lord Master Lee,” she murmured, “I am so honored by your presence. I am your humble servant tonight. I am so nervous but will do my best to please you in any way you wish. Please allow me to order some warm water so that I may have the pleasure of bathing your Jade Stalk. I will return in just a minute.”

As soon as she left the barge, Da Ping ran to a side door facing the water and took a long, satisfying piss over the side. Little Spring watched him from around the corner and laughed to herself while servants brought in a large wooden tub and filled it with pleasantly hot water. This is going to be fun, Little Spring thought. And Young Master will remember tonight for the rest of his life. Which will be great for me!

Da Ping had heard Chu Sing describe his exploits with the Flower Lantern ladies in tedious detail, but he still wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation himself now that he was about to experience a woman touching his Jade Stalk for the first time. He was far more nervous than aroused, and he began to doubt his ability to perform the acts that Chu Sing was always boasting about. He tried to calm himself and summon his feelings of confidence and entitlement, but they disappeared like the smoke from a snuffed candle.

Little Spring could see every emotion he was feeling as it crossed his face. Hau Ma Ma had chosen her for a reason; she had a knack for making first-timers feel comfortable and in control.

“Lord Master Lee,” she said in her soft, shy voice, “before I bathe you, I would like to dance for you so I will not be so nervous for what is to follow.”

“Sure…Miss…ah…” He had forgotten her name already. “That would, uh, please me.”

Little Spring loosened her gown a little more and clapped her hands, which was the cue for the musicians hidden in the chamber between the outer and inner doors to begin playing. She began by making a deep bow to Da Ping, exposing her breasts in all their glory, and stepped back to begin the slow and sensuous dance that she performed several times a night to drive her clients wild with desire. Da Ping couldn’t believe his eyes. He hadn’t seen a woman’s nipples since he’d been weaned, and a tingling sensation began to build in his lower abdomen.

She is so beautiful, even without bound feet, he thought. Little Spring’s family had sold her to the Flower Lantern when she was fifteen, much too late to have her feet bound. Not surprisingly, the hallmark of beauty so valued in a noble wife was not at all necessary to arouse a man in a brothel. Little Spring’s clients were captivated by her beauty and splendid figure, and they returned to the Flower Lantern again and again to experience her masterful skill at pleasing the Jade Stalk.

As she finished the abbreviated version of her dance—she knew Da Ping would not be able to wait much longer—she let her robe slip down her shoulders, giving him a full view of her upper torso and her beautifully shaped breasts and pink nipples. As she knelt before him, Da Ping lost all control of his own body and leaped at her like a hungry tiger attacking its prey. He pawed at her breasts and thighs, gasping for air.

“Ooh, my Lord Master,” Little Spring moaned with deliberate and precise timing. “I am all yours tonight!”

Before she could even finish her prepared line, Da Ping ejaculated inside his clothes. He was overcome with shame and embarrassment and turned away from Little Spring. His thirteen-year-old temperament took over, and he began to cry.

Little Spring, she said to herself, this crying boy in front of you is Lee Shao Lin’s Number One Son, and you need to make him feel like a man who just conquered the world. She sighed. This would require extreme measures.

“Ooh, Lord Master,” she whispered, manufacturing a blush, “you are such a gentleman to spare me tonight. I am…so…so…touched by your kindness.” Little Spring was so well trained that she could command tears when they were needed, and she let Da Ping see them run down her face while pretending to hide behind her hands.

Da Ping had no idea what was going on. He saw real tears on a beautiful naked lady who had just thanked him—but for what? He didn’t know and didn’t care, because somehow he felt better. He felt an urge to comfort Little Spring, and he patted her bare shoulder. She slowly raised her tear-streaked face to look at him, and his heart melted. His pats turned into a gentle caress, and with perfect timing, she threw her arms around him and pressed her lovely naked body against his.

“But I really do want you, Lord Master,” she whispered in his ear. “Please, please, I beg it of you.” She felt Da Ping’s Jade Stalk grow erect against her body and knew she couldn’t risk another near miss.

“Lord Master Lee,” she said, “please excuse me, but I must first do what my herbalist has instructed I do when I am overcome with emotion and desire.”

Da Ping relaxed his hold on her, but just a little bit. “All right. What is that?”

“I must smoke some opium to relieve the pressure, or I will be ill.”

“Really?” Da Ping had no idea opium could be used in this way.

“Yes, Lord Master, opium is the best medicine under these circumstances.” She pretended that an idea had suddenly crossed her mind. “I would be honored if you would share a bowl of the concoction that Herb Master Liu has prescribed for me.” Little Spring was very familiar with the effect of the drug on men’s sexual performance, and she was counting on it working a miracle on Da Ping.

Da Ping would never have believed that a day that began with good-natured ribbing from his more experienced friend would end with him sharing an opium pipe with a beautiful naked woman who craved the honor of servicing his Jade Stalk. He threw all caution to the wind and nodded.

Next to the opium bed was a small table with a pipe stand holding a magnificent and perfectly aligned pipe with ornate copper decorations. It had a jade mouthpiece on one end and a brass-and-ivory bowl on the other. An intricately painted container next to the pipe held the opium paste, and another larger box contained the stirring needles, an oil lamp, and some other utensils. Little Spring carefully rolled a bit of the hardened opium paste into a ball about as wide as her smallest fingernail and stuck it to the end of a needle. She lit the lamp and held the opium-tipped needle over the low flame until it softened and began to bubble and turn golden. She stretched the gooey paste into long strings with another needle so it would heat evenly over the lamp, then rolled it back into a small ball before placing it in the bowl of the pipe. Like those of most seasoned addicts, her movements were deft and relaxed, demonstrating the skill of someone who had performed the ritual so many times that it was second nature.

Little Spring offered the pipe to Da Ping. He had watched his father smoke at home, so for the first time that evening, he felt like he knew what he was supposed to do. He reclined sideways on the opium bed, resting his head on a ceramic pillow next to Little Spring, put the jade filter to his mouth with the bowl over the oil lamp, and inhaled the smoke that the heat produced. Da Ping immediately started to cough.

“Oh, Lord Master, be gentle and take a smaller draw,” Little Spring whispered into Da Ping’s ear. “Let the dragon come to you, Lord Master.”

Within seconds, Da Ping’s head began to spin, and he felt a silken cloud engulf his entire body. He had never experienced anything like it before, and he could feel himself floating above the opium bed. Little Spring watched him critically as she took her own practiced inhale from the pipe. She usually timed her sessions so that she could make it through the evening before experiencing the first withdrawal pangs, so this was a welcome early reward for her efforts with the young lord.

Da Ping felt as though he was covered with a blanket that gave him warmth, lightness, and an exultant feeling of confidence. As he gazed at Little Spring’s naked body, he was filled with renewed strength and vigor. Little Spring noticed the bulge in his clothing that was becoming bigger and firmer, and she took his hand and led him to the bed. She gently removed his clothing and then slowly, skillfully, and sensuously caressed his entire body using every part of her own. Opium or not, it was still his first time, so Little Spring took the lead, expertly guiding Da Ping into her Golden Gate and moving against him until his mind and his Jade Stalk exploded in pure bliss.

“Oh fuck, this is heaven!” Da Ping grinned wide when he finished, took another long drag from the pipe, and proceeded to enter Little Spring’s Golden Gate for a second and then a third time. And so it was that Lee Da Ping, Number One Son of Lee Shao Lin of Canton, experienced the forbidden thrills of both sex and opium at the same time at the tender age of thirteen.

Chapter Five

Bombay to Canton, 1832

In between his duties—which included scheduling the watches, overseeing loading and unloading at every port to ensure the stability of the ship, and minding the ballast, in addition to navigation—Higgins scoured the private libraries of every officer on board for more information about the opium trade and these two men, Jardine and Matheson, whose cargo he oversaw. He asked the older hands questions and read newspapers he picked up in port. Whatever he learned went into the notebook. When he filled a book, he mailed it home to his parents, carefully wrapped in linen and covered with exotic labels.

William Jardine, he learned, was born on February 24, 1784, the son of a small Scottish farmer. His village, Lochmaben, had its own grammar school, and it accepted a small number of poor students who could not afford the tuition. Young William was one of those. He lost his father at the age of nine and struggled to keep up with his studies while he worked the family farm. His brother, eager to see someone in the family earn a university degree, supported William in every way possible, and as a result of those sacrifices, he was able to attend the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh.

Jardine earned his diploma in 1802 and shipped as a surgeon’s apprentice that same year on the Brunswick, chartered by the East India Company. By this time, the company was doing most of its trading with China. It maintained its own private army of over 260,000 soldiers, twice the size of the British Royal Army, and used it to rule large areas of India as a de facto arm of the British Empire. In 1773 Parliament imposed a series of administrative and economic reforms that ultimately gave it control over the company, so Jardine was in fact working for the British Empire itself, earning five pounds for two months of service.

Jardine’s position as surgeon’s mate allowed him to mingle with the captain and other senior officers at the dining table, which made him privy to lively conversations about the China trade. He learned that the East India Company was selling opium to China and that officers were allotted a small amount of cargo space, known as “privilege tonnage,” that they could fill with opium on the way to China and Chinese goods on the voyage home. These officers made considerable profits from these private trades. The size of any officer’s tonnage was determined by his rank, so senior officers did very well for themselves. A quick study, Jardine grasped the opportunities available through trading with China, and after several voyages to China by way of India in the spring and back to England in the fall, he was an expert in dealing with the corrupt mandarins and customs officers to work around the laws against bringing opium into Canton.

When Jardine visited China for the first time, the Brunswick and all other incoming ships anchored off the mouth of the Pearl River in an area known as Whampoa, twelve miles from Canton, where corrupt Chinese customs officers “inspected” the cargo. The mouth of the Pearl River was known as the Bogue, and it was guarded by a series of forts. Small junks unloaded the opium from the foreign ships after clearing customs and carried it upriver to Canton, where the exchange was made: opium for Chinese silver and that same silver for Chinese goods. Some legitimate trade of British wool and Indian cotton for Chinese tea and silk occurred, but it was insignificant in comparison to the opium sales.

All the legitimate trade conducted by the East India Company in China took place in an area known as the factories in Canton—long, narrow buildings facing the river. Many had second or third stories used as dining rooms, bedrooms, and libraries. The British factory, the largest one, had a pleasant garden in front. All foreign merchants were restricted to this area when they disembarked, and all business was to be conducted only with approved Chinese hongs. There were thirteen of these hongs who conducted legitimate trade with Westerners, making an effective monopoly, and some of them became enormously wealthy by it.

Officially, these thirteen hongs only dealt in tea, silk, porcelain, furniture, and other Chinese merchandise, which they exchanged for British wool, Indian cotton, and other Western products. Watches and clocks were among the most popular. These thirteen hongs gladly took silver for their trades when they sold more than they bought, and they knew well the true source of the silver; it was not from England. And if these hongs dealt in opium, they did so most discreetly to avoid attention from both the magistrates and the other opium dealers. Through this system of restrictions, the Imperial Court intended to control all foreign activities in China. Everyone in the Imperial Court, with the possible exception of the emperor, knew that this was not the case, and several cleared handsome profits by allowing the situation to continue.

Jardine discovered he could earn quite a lot by using his own privilege tonnage to import opium and return with tea and silk, like the other officers, but he expanded his business into brokering other men’s tonnage for a commission. His shipmates trusted him; he did the research to find the best deals, something many others had neither time nor inclination for. Jardine did so well that his profits from these private trades exceeded his new salary as ship’s surgeon by quite a bit. After a few more voyages, in which the Brunswick suffered foul weather, pirates, and attacks by the French, Jardine decided it was time to quit the seafaring life and devote all his efforts to the China trade.

His new career as a trader began in spring 1819. Jardine deposited the silver from opium sales in an East India Company account in Canton, and his partner Thomas Weeding, another former ship’s surgeon, issued a receipt backed by the company that allowed Jardine to withdraw the cash in London. The East India Company then used the silver to buy Chinese products. This saved Jardine the trouble and risk of hauling huge quantities of silver across the ocean and was possibly the world’s first large-scale scheme to launder drug money.

He invested everything he had saved over the previous two years to purchase a merchant ship, the Sarah, with his two partners, Weeding and an Indian merchant, Frame Cowasjee, just as the trade between India and China—and the addiction rate—was seeing explosive growth. The Sarah, weighing 488 tons and with a draft of eighteen feet, was built in an English shipyard and set sail for India on November 2, 1819. Jardine took possession of his new ship when it arrived in Bombay in April 1820, right around the time he met James Matheson.

Matheson was born to a family of some means, at least compared to William Jardine’s origins. He was born in 1796 near Sutherlandshire, at the northern tip of Scotland. Twelve years younger than his future partner, James grew up in moderate wealth. As a young boy, he was fascinated by exotic places and dreamed of travel to the far-flung corners of the world.

Like Jardine, Matheson attended the University of Edinburgh, but he left the university at seventeen to pursue a career in commerce instead, working for a mercantile house in London, where he picked up an education in accounting and business practices. At nineteen, disliking his prospects, he sailed to Calcutta in 1815, where he worked for his uncle’s firm, Mackintosh and Company. Three years later, he was sacked and ordered to catch the next ship back to England; instead, he decided he would go to Canton to try his hand at the opium trade. It didn’t take long for him to learn the business and become an excellent judge of opium quality, which earned him the custom and trust of the middlemen.

Jardine’s nephew, Andrew Johnstone, had followed in his uncle’s footsteps and worked as surgeon’s mate on the Scaleby Castle. Advised by his uncle to take advantage of his privilege tonnage, he found he needed cash for a lucrative transaction. Matheson was involved in the transaction and agreed to lend Johnstone the funds in Spanish dollars. Johnstone wrote to his uncle to ask him to honor the debt, which he did, establishing a feeling of trust between these two Scotsmen. They met and, around 1822, formed a partnership.

Matheson used his background in mercantile banking to negotiate with London banks to convert Chinese silver into notes that could be redeemed at a bank in India or London, creating another form of money laundering. Jardine and Matheson were already earning large fees for providing this service, and opium traders happily paid them to avoid the risk of losing their silver to pirates or storms. These paper instruments were so trusted that they became a currency in their own right, backed by opium, and could be used to negotiate other purchases. A circular known as the Canton Register and Price Current published up-to-date prices of opium in Canton, and an entire economy was created using opium sales as collateral to back up financial instruments that originated in London for the purpose of buying more opium. Jardine and Matheson became the central bank of this economy.

Jardine’s opium profits soared, but one final obstacle remained: He was unable to set up his own shop among the factories because that was reserved for those with a license to trade under treaty with China. The East India Company would never allow a fellow Briton to set up shop and compete with them in Canton. Jardine’s break came when another opium trader, Charles Magniac, fell ill and had to return to England. Magniac had managed to get himself appointed consul of Prussia, so he was able to run his shop out of the Canton factories under the Prussian flag. He offered Jardine partnership in the company in exchange for helping the Magniac family transfer their wealth from Canton to London. When Jardine took control of Magniac and Company, it was the beginning of his total dominance of the opium trade.

Jardine’s consistent success earned him a reputation as someone who could be trusted. His work ethic and attention to detail were legendary among the Western opium traders, and the corrupt mandarins could count on him paying their bribes in full and on time. Matheson brought working capital and solid relationships, while Jardine’s experience in the opium trade brought more business than they could handle. The partnership, renamed the Jardine and Matheson Company, became the largest opium trading house in history.

By the late 1820s, there were so many opium ships coming in that opium smugglers had to hide in plain sight, anchoring off the island of Lintin, near Hong Kong. There, they awaited smaller junks to bring the cargo into Canton, a much less conspicuous operation than offloading large shipments directly at the Whampoa. Large floating warehouses that dwarfed the junks were erected at the anchorage so Chinese buyers could inspect the merchandise.

In 1833, Parliament passed the Government of India Act, allowing private companies to trade with the two countries independently. This move was welcomed by all opium smugglers, who could finally buy and sell directly. Jardine returned to England in January 1839 as one of the richest men in Britain. Prior to his departure from Canton, a farewell party was thrown in his honor at the factories. In his farewell speech, Jardine proclaimed that neither he nor anyone else who brought opium to China was a smuggler—the Chinese government and its corrupt officers were the true criminals. The crowd cheered in agreement. Jardine, Matheson, and other smugglers of opium knew what the drug was doing to millions of addicts in China, but they supported each other in denying any responsibility. They were all God-fearing, Christian men, and if the Chinese were a nation of opium smokers, it was no concern of the British.

There was more, much more information than even Higgins could absorb, but the more he learned, the more questions arose about the nature of his cargo, its intended buyers, and the effect it was having on the economy of every nation involved. Everything will be clear when I get to China, he decided.

February 24, 1841

The evening before the attack on Fu-Moon, Captain William Hutcheon Hall of the Nemesis ordered all hands on deck.

“Your attention, men!” He mustered all the energy he had to give his words credence. “We’ve done our best with these blasted yellow monkeys, but they don’t seem to want free trade, and they won’t bloody listen to reason. So we are here to teach these buggers how to conduct trade with Her Majesty’s merchants. We have what they crave, and they have the goods to exchange for it. And the rest is politicking and Eastern bloody-mindedness.” He took a deep breath. “This insult to Her Majesty will not stand! We have superior firepower and the right of the matter on our side, so let’s show these bastards what we’re made of and steam on past their rickety junks and rusted cannon. No need to beat the bloody monkeys down, remember—we represent Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, and we show restraint and mercy where it is fitting. God save the queen!”

The crew of ninety navy men echoed his words at the top of their lungs as they waved their caps. Anchored off the shores of Lintin, near Hong Kong, were twenty ships carrying thousands of cases of high-grade opium waiting to be delivered. The Nemesis was part of the military task force to clear a way through the Pearl River entrance to Canton. Alongside it was an armada of more conventional warships, including Wellesley, Blenheim, and Melville, with seventy-four guns apiece, the forty-four-gun frigate Druid, the forty-two-gun Blonde, and a host of smaller frigates. A few hundred elite Indian sepoys of the Thirty-Seventh Regiment, 3,200 sailors and marines under Captain Sir Le Fleming Senhouse, and another 2,200 soldiers under Sir Hugh Gough would land and make their way to Canton and further inland, with force if necessary, to negotiate a reinstatement of the opium trade.

Captain Hall allowed all hands an extra ration of rum before retiring to his cabin. The minute he closed the door, he dropped to his knees and vomited on the floor, sick with remorse.

“What the bloody hell am I doing?” he said as he swiped a handkerchief across his mouth. “Pushing opium and calling it free trade, blasting our way into a foreign country to shove this filth down their throats whether they want it or not. What kind of empire treats another sovereign power thus?”

Hall was a Royal Navy man through and through. He’d done his training in Glasgow and had made passages across the Irish Sea and up the Hudson and Delaware Rivers. Hall was an educated man, and he had witnessed the devastating effects of opium firsthand when a classmate descended into addiction to an early death. Opium was a common medicine in England at that time, used to treat nausea, pain, and other ailments, but it was no less addictive for being legal.

Bringing the Nemesis to China to back up what he saw as Britain bullying another kingdom into breaking its own laws to satisfy his country’s need for Chinese tea and other products and the profits earned from them caused him deep moral conflict. He considered himself a good Christian and a man of honor, but he was also a career officer in the Royal Navy, and orders were orders. And now he was steaming the Nemesis up a river to make way for an invasion force, all because the Chinese Imperial Court was upholding its ban on the importation of opium and had set up an embargo against all British ships and trade until the illegal opium trade ceased.

“We’ve all gone bloody mad,” Hall muttered. The enormity of Britain’s actions was staggering, but Hall could do nothing. England and the rest of Europe were not going to simply do without Chinese tea, silk, porcelain, and whatever other exotic merchandise was in demand, nor could they afford to pay the true market price for it. The industrial revolution had created the factories and processes that allowed Britain to produce enough of its goods to sell them all over the globe, and China was a prime market. That door to prosperity could not be allowed to close, and Hall knew it. And so he would participate in an invasion force into the interior of one empire to protect the rights of another nation to buy its goods and pay for them with poison.

“England for England,” he said wearily and rang for his steward.

At the time the Nemesis was anchored off Fu-Moon, there were more than fifty opium parlors in Canton alone. Addicts brought their own opium, or bought it on the premises, and they rented a bed where they lay while a server warmed the paste and put it in the bowl of a long pipe, where it vaporized over the heat of an oil lamp and the addict inhaled the smoke until the paste was consumed. Wealthy patrons, like Lee Da Ping, had their own custom-made beds, lamps, and pipes with ornate bowls carved out of jade and decorated with precious stones and metals. They smoked in private rooms instead of the communal areas. These establishments operated openly, without fear of the law, and no one gave a moment’s thought to where the steady stream of opium was coming from or what might happen if it were to suddenly dry up.

General Kwan Tien Pui summoned his vice general, Lo Ping, and his personal steward to his quarters. General Kwan was the commander of the Guangdong Province water force, which protected the area from any threat arriving by sea. Fiercely loyal to his emperor, he despised the civilian leadership that influenced and controlled the budget for China’s military. He had seen firsthand the corruption and incompetence of high-level guans who, under the guise of improving China’s military strength, wasted and squandered precious resources instead of fulfilling the emperor’s desire to improve the imperial armaments. Just a few years prior, in 1835, General Kwan had requested reinforcements for the defense of Fu-Moon, including forty large cannons. When the cannons were finally delivered after countless delays, ten of them exploded during test firings, killing one soldier and injuring a few more. When the general investigated this incident, he found that the overpriced cannons were made of mostly scrap metal, and the interiors of the barrels were uneven and pitted.

“The enemy will most likely attack at dawn,” he told Lo Ping, “and we must be prepared to hold Fu-Moon, no matter the cost. If we lose it, the foreign devils will march right into Canton.”

He handed his personal steward a carved box containing a thick lock of hair cut from his long, braided queue. “Bring this to my wife tonight, and tell her that I will forever be with her.” The steward bowed wordlessly and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Six

Macau, 1839

“Good! And again.”

“How doo you doo?” Su-Mei said carefully.

“Now say, ‘How is the weather?’”

“How eez da weydaa?”

“Better. Let me hear the alphabet.”

Su-Mei began reciting the strange English figures, which didn’t mean anything on their own and were impossible to remember.

“No, you missed one.”

Su-Mei couldn’t remember when she had felt so alive. During the ten days that she’d spent with Pai Chu, she had picked up quite a lot of English, although it was still difficult to pronounce the words correctly. Su-Mei was very eager to learn enough so that she could actually speak with a foreign devil. She liked everything she had seen about these people’s habits and lifestyle and wanted to learn even more.

Pai Chu had also never felt this way before. She was fascinated by Su-Mei and felt an instant kinship with her. Everything Su-Mei did was intriguing, and every move she made was graceful. Su-Mei was gentle, kind, and so beautiful! Pai Chu would have spent every moment with her if she could. She rushed through her other duties at the convent and counted the minutes until their English lessons, the only time they spent completely alone. Being in Su-Mei’s presence made her feel as if a lamp had been lit in her soul. Heavenly Father, she prayed at night before retiring, thank you for bringing the blessing of Miss Su-Mei into my life as a reflection of your grace and love. If it is your will, please find a way for her to stay with us in Macau a little longer.

Su-Mei finished reciting all twenty-six letters and picked up a thin booklet written in English. She had already started to read and found it easy. Unlike Chinese, reading in English was just looking at the letters and sounding out the words they made, and Su-Mei was very good at spotting English words once she’d learned them and recognizing related words by their groupings of letters. Pai Chu was quite impressed with Su-Mei’s progress—she was beautiful and intelligent.

Her “punishment” was nearly over, and Su-Mei was scrambling to think of ways to extend it. She enjoyed living in the convent and had learned much about the foreign devils’ religion. It made a lot of sense to her that there was only one god and he was the creator of everything and had rules that everyone needed to follow if they wanted to go to a wonderful place after death instead of suffering forever. This god sent his only son to the world to cleanse its sins, but he was executed by the authorities on a wooden cross. Every time she saw the carvings of the god’s son on the cross, she remembered that she’d thought they were second-rate art pieces when she’d first arrived and cringed in embarrassment. But Pai Chu said this god was very forgiving and merciful, so perhaps he didn’t blame her for her ignorance.

On her second Sunday at the convent—the foreign devils had names for each day that corresponded to celestial bodies—Su-Mei went with Pai Chu and Mother Amanda to the cathedral to attend a ritual they called Mass. The beauty and grandeur of the cathedral, after the small, mean rooms of the convent, took her breath away. It had brilliantly tinted stained-glass windows stretching up to the tallest ceiling she had ever seen. At the front were a long altar and a very large crucifix—that was the name of the carving of the god’s son—with intricate, rich decorations all around it.

Su-Mei couldn’t believe how quiet everyone was before the ceremony began. During the Lunar New Year and a few other times a year, her mother took her to a Buddhist temple, so she was accustomed to worshippers bustling back and forth, saying their own prayers and bowing to the statues of the Buddha or to the ancestor shrines. Instead of everyone burning sticks of incense before the altar, as was done in Buddhist temples, a man in white robes carried a large incense burner on a chain and swung it back and forth until the whole enormous space was filled with aromatic smoke. She was profoundly moved by the serenity and tranquility within as the entire group bowed their heads in silence.

But nothing prepared Su-Mei for what she felt when the organ began to play and beautiful harmonies arose from the group of men singing at the front of the temple. Su-Mei did not understand a word the priest was saying; but his voice moved her just the same. When everyone stood up and sang together, Su-Mei’s skin prickled, and she had to blink away tears without knowing why. When she recognized the chorus of the song, she found herself singing along, inspired by the sound and being one voice among many. Su-Mei sneaked a glance at Pai Chu, who was in the front row with the other novices. She too seemed to be moved by the ceremony, her eyes closed and her face bathed in colored light from the windows.

After the song was over, Su-Mei sat on her bench with the rest of the participants. Everyone seemed to be walking up to the altar to receive a blessing from the priest. Pai Chu walked back down the aisle after she’d received hers, and when Su-Mei stood, Pai Chu shook her head in her crisp white headdress. Su-Mei returned to her seat.

Pai Chu stepped out of the line of novices and came to sit next to Su-Mei. She grasped her hand and said, “I noticed you were touched by the Holy Spirit.”

“The what?”

“The Holy Spirit, Su-Mei. There is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It is the feeling you get in your heart when you hear Mass.”

Su-Mei digested this. “Why did you shake your head at me just now?”

“Because you are not ready for the sacrament of Holy Communion, Su-Mei. If you choose to join our faith—and I pray every day that you will—then you will learn all about the sacraments.” Pai Chu smiled and gripped her hand even tighter.

Su-Mei knew she had a lot to learn about this religion, but what she was feeling was indescribable and nothing like how she felt in the temple at home, bored out of her mind while the monks chanted in a language that no one really understood, while others came and went as they pleased. Here, at the cathedral, everyone seemed to be connected. There was a sense of community, of togetherness, and everyone seemed to be touched by this Holy Spirit. Su-Mei was intrigued. From what Mother Amanda and Pai Chu had taught her, this foreign god did not have as many rules as Buddhism and Taoism. There were only ten! And there didn’t seem to be anything about obeying your parents even if they wanted to have your feet broken and deformed so you could marry someone they chose for you without asking your opinion. From what she’d learned so far, the main rules were about loving one another and loving this god and his son.

Also, there was nothing about being reincarnated. The foreigners believed that you died and either went to heaven if you had lived a good life or went to a burning place of torment if you had not. Su-Mei had long been convinced that she would return as a cockroach in her next life because she had broken so many of the rules set by Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu, especially regarding obedience and respect for one’s parents. She knew she had not committed any evil acts that would send her to this hell, but she wasn’t sure if she was good enough to enter heaven. After all, she was the daughter of an opium lord.

Whether she knew it or not, Lee Su-Mei, daughter of Lee Shao Lin, was already converting to Christianity in her heart and believing in its principles. Mother Amanda suspected this was happening because of the questions Su-Mei asked during their daily lecture on faith. She was pleased that another heathen had found God and might spread his word among the other sinners. She also noticed the intimate friendship that had sprung up between Sister Maria and Su-Mei. She had seen it happen before between young women, and they generally grew out of it, but she would watch the two closely just the same, and perhaps remind Sister Maria of the vows she was about to take.

Mother Amanda met them outside the cathedral. “Lady Su-Mei, I have good news. I just received word that your Honorable Father is due to arrive tomorrow for a meeting in Macau, and he will take you back with him to Canton afterward, a few days ahead of schedule. We will miss you here! I hope you take what you have learned home with you.” Mother Amanda smiled meaningfully.

“Oh no!” Su-Mei exclaimed. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow, Lady Su-Mei. Aren’t you happy to return to your honored family?”

“Yes,” Su-Mei lied. “But I want to learn so much more from you and Sister Maria, especially about your god.”

“I am pleased to hear that, my child, but we must return you to your Honorable Father. In time, if it is the Lord’s will, you may return to us, and we can continue our discussions.” Silently, Mother Amanda made a prayer that this would be so and that the seed planted in Su-Mei’s heart would bear fruit.

Tears gathered in the corners of Su-Mei’s eyes when Pai Chu came to her chamber that evening. “What am I going to do? I don’t want to leave here yet. I want to learn more English, and I want to learn more about your god.”

“Oh, Su-Mei, this is very unfortunate!” Pai Chu replied. “Your time here is not up yet, and I’m not ready to let you go home!” There was a tightness in her chest, and she could hardly get the breath out of her throat.

“I have to find a way to keep us together,” said Su-Mei. She had always gotten her way before, and she saw no reason why that shouldn’t continue.

“Oh, I hope so, Su-Mei, I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Concentrating hard, Su-Mei missed the longing in Pai Chu’s voice and the stricken look in her eyes. She had to find a way to continue studying English and this new religion. If her father would not allow her to stay in Macau, then the only way to achieve her goals was to find a way to bring Pai Chu with her to Canton.

“I’ve got it!”

Pai Chu’s face lit up. “Tell me!” she begged.

“Pai Chu,” Su-Mei said, pleased with her own brilliant solution, “you speak Chinese and English fluently, and my father does big business with the foreign devils. If I can convince him that having you in Canton would be helpful to him in dealing with the foreign devils, then there is a chance that he will let you come with us and stay at our estate as an interpreter. He might even pay you!”

“Oh, that would be perfect. I can help your Honorable Father, and we’ll be together all the time in Canton.”

“The problem, though,” Su-Mei continued, thinking out loud, “is how to convince Mother Amanda to let you leave this place.” As Su-Mei uttered these words, the answer presented itself. “I have an idea!”

“What is it?”

“Mother Amanda is always very pleased when I ask questions about your god, and I remember one of her teachings was that sinners can be redeemed if they repent and turn to him. You and I must go to Mother Amanda and tell her that I am ready to repent and redeem myself before God, and I want to help spread the word of God in Canton, but I need you to come with me so that I can learn more about God. And together, we will help the sinners in Canton repent and redeem themselves!” Su-Mei paused for a second and then added, “If my father agrees to my plan of hiring you as his interpreter, then I will ask him to give a generous donation to this convent to help other orphans. That should make Mother Amanda very happy and may make her more likely to allow you to come with me!”

“You are the smartest person in the whole world, Su-Mei!” Pai Chu flung her arms around Su-Mei and squeezed her tightly. The threat of never seeing Su-Mei again had brought on a wave of confusing emotions in Pai Chu, but this new hope pushed them all away and filled her with relief and joy. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for hearing my prayer! I will do my best to show her the profound love and mercy of your son, Jesus Christ, and pray for her conversion with all my soul.

Su-Mei hugged her friend in return, but her mind was racing. All she could think of were the opportunities that would arise for her if she could speak fluent English. Honorable Father would never allow her to be a part of the family business, but maybe she could help Da Ping somehow when it was time for him to take over.

“Yes,” she murmured into Pai Chu’s dark braid, “we will spend every day together. It will be great fun.”

Su-Mei scarcely slept that night. She waited impatiently for Pai Chu to finish with the early morning singing. “Let’s go speak with Mother Amanda now.”

When Mother Amanda’s voice invited them to enter her office, both young women pushed through the door in excitement.

“Good morning, Mother Amanda,” they said in unison.

“Are you ready to return to Canton this afternoon, Lady Su-Mei? There’s a typhoon on the way, so you and your father might have to stay overnight, or until it blows over.” Typhoon season usually began in late spring in southern China, and one this early was unheard of, but the weather had been very strange that year.

“Yes, Mother Amanda, I am ready, but may I speak to you about a plan I have? It could benefit this beautiful place and spread the word of God.”

Mother Amanda looked surprised. “Yes, my child. Proceed.”

“Dear Mother Amanda,” Su-Mei had rehearsed her speech all morning. “The past ten days have been so inspiring and enlightening to me, and I have learned so much about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and how the lives of sinners can be redeemed if we repent.”

“Yes—yes, they can,” said Mother Amanda, astonished and pleased.

“Mother Amanda, I have come to a decision. I want to repent, and I want to redeem my soul and serve God. I have much to learn still about becoming a Christian, as my time has been so short here, but I am eager to learn and spread the word of God back in Canton. There are so many sinners there who could use the word of God! But I know I must leave this place with my father, and I am heartbroken that I cannot continue my religious studies.”

“My child, God will show you the way,” said Mother Amanda thoughtfully. “There are many ways to serve God, and you can do his work whether you are in a convent or at home in Canton.” As Mother Amanda spoke these words, she looked at Pai Chu and heard what she thought was the voice of God. God sent Sister Maria to me, and she has become a strong and faithful Christian. Wouldn’t she be perfect to accompany Su-Mei to Canton and guide her to do God’s work? Lady Su-Mei is from an important family and in a position to influence others, and Sister Maria would be able to help her spread the word of God discreetly in Canton. An imperial edict forbade Chinese people from openly practicing Western religions, but if Sister Maria and Lady Su-Mei worked together to quietly spread God’s teachings, they would not be breaking the law, and sinners would be saved.

Sister Maria had not yet taken her holy vows, but Mother Amanda believed she was ready for this mission, and she could help Su-Mei prepare for her conversion—and maybe even holy orders herself! Excited by the prospect of bringing sinners into the fold, Mother Amanda forgot her concerns about the closeness of the relationship between Sister Maria and Lady Su-Mei.

“Sister Maria,” Mother Amanda said in a grave voice, “are you ready to do God’s work and help save the souls of sinners?”

“I don’t understand, Reverend Mother.” Pai Chu had been fiercely praying that God would speak to Mother Amanda and convince her that Su-Mei’s plan was a good one and hadn’t quite heard Mother Amanda’s words.

“Sister Maria, I have always believed that God sent you to us for a purpose. Today I believe I know that purpose. You have helped Lady Su-Mei see God’s way, and now she is ready to do his work. Are you ready to help her continue on her path to the Lord and help her spread his good word among the sinners of Canton?”

Pai Chu and Su-Mei looked at each other in glee. They could not believe their ears. This is proof that God answers prayers, Su-Mei thought. She could tell by the expression on Pai Chu’s face that she was thinking the same thing. Both of them were convinced that this was God’s plan, and Su-Mei believed more than ever that this new religion was for her and that God had revealed himself to her in this way. What began as a ploy to convince Mother Amanda to let Pai Chu come to Canton so Su-Mei could learn more English had become a revelation of divine will and yet more evidence that Christianity was the true religion for her.

“Mother Amanda, it would be my honor to accompany Lady Su-Mei to Canton to do God’s work.” Pai Chu tried to keep her voice steady when all she wanted to do was weep with delight and wrap her arms around Su-Mei.

“And it would be my honor to continue my studies with Sister Maria and learn how I can serve God and help my brothers and sisters in Canton to repent and redeem their souls,” said Su-Mei, flushed with her success and newfound conviction.

“Excellent,” Mother Amanda responded, “but we still require your Honorable Father’s permission. I do not know if he will approve of your conversion.”

“He has not seen God’s way as I have, Mother Amanda,” Su-Mei said. “In time he will understand, but for now, please allow me to give him a different reason to bring Sister Maria to Canton.”

“And what reason is that, my child?”

“As you know, my father has many dealings with the for—with Western people in his business,” said Su-Mei. “I know that he could use the skills of someone who speaks fluent English and Chinese, and Father Afonso is not always available.”

Mother Amanda had already figured out that Lee Shao Lin could use Sister Maria’s linguistic gift to help him deal with the English. She knew the man was involved in the despicable opium trade and used Father Afonso as a translator. It must be God’s will that the sinner Lee Shao Lin should find his way to redemption, and that is why God sent Father Afonso to him, and that is what led him and Lady Su-Mei to us. The elegance of God’s plan satisfied Mother Amanda. She would do the Lord’s work in Macau among the many Westerners who were involved in the opium trade—and donated generously to the convent and orphanage—and the opium kingpin Lee Shao Lin’s own daughter would do the same work in Canton.

“We will offer Sister Maria to serve as his translator!” Mother Amanda and Su-Mei said simultaneously, with big grins.

“It’s settled then,” continued Mother Amanda. “Lady Su-Mei, when your Honorable Father arrives later, I think you should be the one to suggest Sister Maria as a translator.”

“Yes, Mother Amanda,” Su-Mei agreed, “it would be best for me to explain to him the benefits of having Sister Maria on our household staff.” Su-Mei couldn’t believe that Mother Amanda had agreed to her plan. This was even more evidence of God’s will. She vowed that she would devote herself to this new religion with all her heart and do her best to convert the sinners of Canton.

“Sister Maria,” Mother Amanda said after a short pause. “You are nearly ready to take your holy vows, but it would serve God better if you waited. It is against the law in Canton for Chinese women to wear the habit. You must identify yourself as Chinese—use your Chinese name, don’t reveal your English side, and only speak Chinese, except when you are translating for Lord Lee Shao Lin.”

“Yes, Mother Amanda,” Pai Chu replied. “I will follow your good advice.”

“There are some clothes in the storage room that are appropriate for a servant in a wealthy Chinese household. I suggest you dress yourself in those for your introduction to Lord Lee. And while you two are getting ready, I must send a message to Father Afonso. He should be aware of this change in plans.”

Chapter Seven

Father Afonso was getting old. He had just turned eighty-two, and although his mind was still sharp, it was overfull. The early memories flooded in sometimes, interrupting him at prayer. The colors, the smells, were so vivid they made him weep. He remembered very little of his days in the orphanage at Sao Roque in Lisbon. The deep azure sky and the sun heating the stones in the courtyard until they burned his feet, the interior of the church a storm of gold that took his breath away, the scent of the incense at Mass, and the layers of sound that the priests made with their voices. Orphans were not required to attend all the divine offices, but little Caetano, as he was known then, crept out of his dormitory when he heard the bells for matins and lauds and crouched just out of sight of the chapel doorway. He was certain that what he heard issuing from within was the voice of God.

He was too young to know anything about the plot against the king and the prime minister that resulted in the expulsion of all Jesuits from Portugal in 1759. One morning Father Francisco was stuffing clothes, blankets, and books into a sack and telling him to fetch his box of treasures, the one that all small boys, especially orphans, kept. Caetano ran to retrieve the rough wooden box from under his cot. Its contents—a few interesting stones, a little horse an older boy had carved for him, a copper coin—rattled like dried peas in a bowl. Wordlessly, he followed Father Francisco into the kitchen and watched the priest gather loaves of bread, bottles of wine, and handfuls of the sweet, tiny oranges he loved.

“These are called portugals in other lands, my son,” Father Francisco said to him over his shoulder. “They’re also called mandarins because they grow in China, and that’s where we’re going.”

He trusted Father Francisco, who never beat him for making backward letters or failing to scrub away the dirt under his nails. Sometimes he brought Caetano a heel of bread late at night, even though eating between meals was forbidden, because he knew that little boys woke up with hunger pangs. If there were nice little oranges in this new place and Father Francisco would be there to look after him, then everything would be all right.

The voyage was long and horrible. The smells of unwashed bodies, mildew, and livestock belowdecks combined with the heaving ship to make him empty his stomach over and over. He wished he was back in his clean, bare cot in the orphanage—or dead and in the arms of the Blessed Virgin.

When they landed at last, everything looked different, as though the light itself was a new color. He remembered trailing behind Father Francisco, walking until he thought his leg bones would crumble, until a man, a regular man like someone from home, not one of the new people with golden skin and strange eyes, offered them the use of his donkey. Caetano collapsed over the beast’s withers, his nose and fingers buried in the stiff, musky hair. He had retained a fondness for donkeys ever since. A humble donkey had carried the Son of God, and one had appeared as if sent from heaven to help a small, exhausted boy in a strange land.

He awoke in darkness, in a dormitory almost identical to the one at home: rows of narrow cots with a boy starfished beneath the blanket and a plain wooden cross nailed to the wall above. Afraid to explore, Caetano lay awake until he heard the bells of prime. A man in what looked like a lay brother’s robe entered the room. Familiar with the routine, he made his bed, washed and dressed, and followed the other boys to a long refectory table set with deep bowls in a perfectly straight line.

In the days that followed, Caetano learned that he and Father Francisco had found refuge in a church called St. Anthony’s in Macau, which was in China. Father Francisco was right—there were small oranges there, peeking like suns out of the dense green foliage. They reminded him of home. He adapted to the new orphanage and learned enough words of English and this very strange Chinese language to make friends. The young priest who taught the orphan boys their letters and catechism was very impressed with his progress and moved him to the class of older boys.

After his lessons and chores in the kitchen or garden were completed, Caetano tended to Father Francisco, who rarely left his cell except to attend Mass and eat. The boy never knew what he might find when he entered. Some days Father Francisco seemed very sad and angry, and when he had drunk a lot of wine, he muttered about the injustice of his exile in “this godforsaken den of heathens.” Caetano nodded and swept the cell, setting his books and pens to rights and collecting his soiled linen. At other times the priest was all smiles and kept interrupting Caetano’s tidying to embrace him or pat his cheek.

As Caetano grew older, the embraces lasted longer and became more intimate. Father Francisco often pushed him onto his cot, shoved his clothing out of the way, and hurt him. He cried alone in his bed later from the pain and from a shame that he didn’t quite understand. When Father Francisco was through with him, he wouldn’t look him in the eye, only turned to the wall of his cell and fell asleep, which made Caetano feel as if he’d committed a grave sin. He was afraid to mention it to his confessor, however, even though he knew that God saw everything. Instead, he took it upon himself to say extra rosaries, abstain from a second helping at meals, and volunteer for the hardest and most unpleasant chores: cleaning the lavatories and raking the ashes out of the cooking pit and big brick oven. Surely God would forgive him if he worked very hard and was penitent.

His efforts to repent for a sin he didn’t understand proved unsustainable, and he began to feel a deep bitterness and anger toward Father Francisco, his first and oldest friend, his mentor. He’d heard the other priests saying uncharitable things about him. He hurts me, Caetano wanted to say to them, but he dared not. When he tried to think about the things Father Francisco did to him, he felt a lurch of nausea as though he was back in steerage on the leaky ship to Macau, and his memory went blank. He told God, though, and in his evening prayers, the words Please, Lord, take Father Francisco far away crept in unbidden.

When Father Francisco grew ill, instead of praying for his recovery, Caetano prayed earnestly for his death. Please, Lord, let his pain end, he corrected himself instantly. That’s what I meant. One morning in his twelfth year, he found that his prayers had been answered. He felt an instant of lightness when he heard the news and then the crushing weight of a guilt that would last a lifetime.

Caetano had long ago surpassed the orphanage tutors, and the fathers sent him to a local school for Western children. “A boy with your gifts could go to a university anywhere in Europe,” his teachers informed him. “You could be a man of science, of letters. You could study medicine.”

“I will take holy orders,” he repeated stubbornly. “God has given me these gifts to use in his name.” It was the only penance he could imagine that would ever cleanse his soul of his foul sins.

And so he had. Taking the name Afonso, he had used God’s gifts for more than seventy years to assist Westerners in their dealings with the Chinese. Many of these men, he was reluctant to admit, were criminals, smuggling in opium that destroyed Chinese lives. For decades he allowed himself to work for men like Lee Shao Lin because they donated large amounts of money to the church, which helped other poor orphan boys and sent missionaries out to spread the gospel to those in need of God’s healing truth. But there would be no healing for Father Afonso. Even so many years later, the headaches and nausea would rise up at the merest thought of Father Francisco’s dark-spotted hands on his skin.

Lee Shao Lin and the other smugglers would have to find another translator, he decided, because he couldn’t bear the weight of yet another man’s sin, no matter how much silver that man donated. And so he had written to Lord Lee and asked to meet him in Macau so he could tell him of his decision in person.

As Shao Lin boarded his luxurious junk for the trip to Macau to meet with Father Afonso and collect his wayward daughter, he noticed the signs of an oncoming typhoon. It was very strange to see a storm so early in the year, but the weather had been unusual recently: mild temperatures during the day but very cold at night. He considered delaying his trip, but the journey would take less than a day, and the high winds might actually shorten it. He decided the risks were low and the typhoon would probably break apart before making landfall. He refused to acknowledge that he missed his daughter and wanted to bring her home. Poor Su-Mei must be so miserable in Macau, and ten days living in penury at that ladies’ boarding school is enough punishment.

Father Afonso met Shao Lin’s boat at the docks and wasted no time in telling him of his decision. “Honorable Lord Lee,” he said, “I must tell you personally that I am retiring from my role as your translator as of today.”

“What?” snapped Shao Lin. “You can’t be serious!” Annoyed by Father Afonso’s gambit to obtain a higher price for his services, he replied, “I will increase my donation to your house of worship, but it is impossible that you leave your role as my translator.”

“I regret any inconvenience, Lord Lee, but this is my decision. I spent many hours in prayer and meditation, and this is the only way I can maintain a state of grace.” He paused. “And you, Lord Lee, should reconsider your duty to your people and stop trading in opium. You know it’s destroying your own people.”

“Father Afonso,” said Shao Lin, realizing that the priest was serious, “you are naïve to believe that I can stop the opium trade—I have been doing my best to limit the trade to avoid an even bigger disaster.” He almost believed his own words as he uttered them; they sounded sincere if he didn’t think about the enormous quantity of opium that flowed through his hands into Canton every year. “But please do not stop acting as my translator! I need you to communicate with the foreign devils—I mean, the British. At least give me some time to find a replacement.”

“I am sorry, Lord Lee, but it is simply not possible. I am sure you will find another translator if you must continue in this business. I will pray that you see the error of your ways.”

Shao Lin knew it was hopeless to try to change Father Afonso’s mind. “Yes, I will find another translator in time, although this is a most unexpected nuisance for me. You must excuse me, Father Afonso; I need to bring my daughter home from the convent now.” He gave a polite bow and walked away, deeply irritated by Father Afonso’s defection. The wind buffeted his body and tugged at his clothes as he went.

As the sky grew darker, Lee Shao Lin accepted the fact that he might have to spend a day or two in Macau until the typhoon passed. His manservant had located enough sedan chairs for the entourage, and he climbed into the first one for the trip to the convent. He would meet Su-Mei there and bring her back to Canton when the weather cleared.

Mother Amanda greeted him outside the convent. “Lord Lee,” she said in her heavily accented Chinese, “your thousand-gold daughter is anxious to see you, and she is eager to return home.” She smiled. “Lady Su-Mei has learned a lot here—she is a very astute pupil, and I believe she is ready to do wonderful things upon returning to Canton, but it looks like you will not be able to return until after this storm passes.”

“Yes, that is so,” Shao Lin replied, impatient with this ridiculous foreign woman who was keeping him outdoors in this weather. “Now, where is my daughter?”

“Honorable Father!” Su-Mei appeared at the heavy double doors of the convent. She bowed low. “I have missed you and Honorable Mother so much!”

“Well,” her father replied. “I hope you have learned your lesson and will be more obedient from now on.” He suspected that nothing would change, but he had to maintain his status as head of his household, especially in front of the foreign woman.

“Yes, Honorable Father, I will do my best from now on to make you and Honorable Mother proud and not ashamed of me.” Su-Mei kept her eyes cast down and did her best impression of a chastised, dutiful daughter.

Maybe this punishment really worked, Shao Lin thought, surprised. If only it weren’t too late to have her feet bound.

“Honorable Father, may I speak with you in private before we leave here? I have an idea that I think you will like,” Su-Mei said.

Shao Lin made an impatient face. What can this child possibly say to me? he wondered. Maybe she has reconsidered marrying old Wong’s son!

“Speak quickly,” he said. “I do not want to stand out here in the wind any longer than I have to.”

“Then let us step across to the sacristy of the church,” said Mother Amanda. “It will be out of this terrible wind. I’m sure you remember, Lord Lee, that men are forbidden inside these doors.”

Shao Lin groaned and gestured for the sedan chair men to follow him to the front of the church and wait. Mother Amanda, Su-Mei, and a servant girl walked behind, heads down and clothes blowing in the wind.

“Honorable Father,” Su-Mei began as soon as they were all inside the church, “I know our family business depends on working with the British—the foreign devils—and you must meet them here in Macau every time there is a decision to be made so that your translator can assist you.”

“What do you know about my business, daughter?” Shao Lin snapped. “You are a woman with no experience or brains.”

Su-Mei fought to hide her flare of anger. “Of course you are right, Honorable Father! Forgive me; I am only a woman and know nothing about the world of men and even less about business, but I met a person here who speaks English and Chinese very well, and I thought this person could be helpful to you.”

Interesting, Shao Lin thought, and timely, now that Father Afonso has quit. I wonder if he can be trusted. Surely this man is also a priest—what other man could she meet here? “I will make an exception this one time and listen to an ignorant young woman, just to show that I have forgiven you for your disobedience. Now when can I meet this translator?” He hoped the relief wasn’t showing on his face.

With a big smile, Su-Mei stepped aside and put her hands on the shoulders of the servant girl. “Right here, Honorable Father. This is Pai Chu.” Mother Amanda stood behind the two young women, and Sister Maria, in her servant’s clothes, made a respectful bow.

“Where is this translator?” Shao Lin asked again. “Stop playing games.” His glance passed over the serving woman standing next to his daughter. Her hair was slightly wavy, she was too tall, and her features were a bit odd, but she was no uglier than half the servants in his household.

“Honorable Father, this is my friend Pai Chu,” said Su-Mei, fighting a grin. “She is the translator that I am speaking of.”

“Have the foreign devils taken your brains away, stupid daughter?” he roared. “Do you expect me to bring a woman into business meetings to do a man’s job?”

“Honorable Fath—”

“No! The idea is ridiculous. I would never survive the shame of it, even assuming this—” he waved a hand at Pai Chu, “female can speak English as you say.”

“But, Honorable Father, please listen—”

Shao Lin’s voice turned cold and quiet. “Have you become deaf as well as stupid? A woman cannot attend business meetings—it is impossible, preposterous. Now have the servants collect your belongings and follow me to the inn. In case you hadn’t noticed, a typhoon is approaching, and we may have to stay in Macau for a few days. I have arranged rooms for us at the Dragon Inn. It’s the most luxurious place to stay in Macau—a welcome change for you after your stay here.”

Su-Mei felt a chill down her spine. Lee Shao Lin was adamant. Pai Chu was near tears, afraid she might never see Su-Mei again.

No! He can’t do this to me! Su-Mei instantly hatched a new plan. It came to her out of thin air, and she suspected it was the work of God, as they were standing in his house of worship. “Honorable Father, please forgive my ignorance about the world of men. I will not mention it again and leave these affairs to you.”

“Then let’s go!”

“Yes, of course, but may I make a humble daughter’s request of you, Honorable Father?”

Shao Lin sighed impatiently. “What is it now?”

“Pai Chu has become a good friend to me. She has taught me to honor you and Honorable Mother during this time of punishment, and she has acted as my mentor in understanding Master Sage Kong Fu-tzu’s teachings. I would like to invite her to stay with me before I leave Macau as a gift of thanks. I would like her to experience a few days with us at the beautiful inn you are taking me to. She will probably never see such luxury again.”

Shao Lin was tired of this conversation in the foreign devils’ temple and preoccupied with replacing his reliable translator, but his temper was abated by the notion that he could bestow upon a common girl such luxuries as only a wealthy and powerful guan like himself could afford.

“If Mother Amanda will allow it, this young woman may be our guest until we depart for Canton after the typhoon passes.”

Mother Amanda and Pai Chu were still looking a bit stunned by Su-Mei’s new plan. “It would be a great honor to be your guest, Lord Lee,” Pai Chu heard herself say. “If Mother Amanda will permit it.”

Mother Amanda would never have allowed an orphan or a novice to leave the convent and visit a decadent inn, but she assumed that Su-Mei had a plan. “I will make an exception to my usual rules today because Lord Lee has bestowed such an honor upon our convent by bringing his thousand-gold daughter to us.”

Now all we need is an opportunity for Pai Chu to translate between Honorable Father and an English-speaking person to demonstrate her skills, thought Su-Mei. “Dear God, my Lord God,” she prayed in her sedan chair on the way to the Dragon Inn, “please show me a way to fulfill your will! Help my father see that Pai Chu must stay with our family!”

Chapter Eight

The flags used all over Macau to signify the strength of Typhoon Catherine, as the Westerners were calling it, had been raised to their highest level by the time the Lee family entourage arrived at the Dragon Inn, the most expensive and luxurious hotel for Chinese travelers in Macau. The sedan chair carriers had a difficult time keeping the chairs upright as strong winds pushed at them from the side. Shao Lin and the two young women were exhausted and feeling fortunate that they had made it there without mishap.

The Dragon Inn was built inland for safety during storms such as this, unlike the Western hotels in Macau that were built near the shore so travelers could enjoy the waterfront views. Lee Shao Lin had ordered a large private dining room so he and his entourage could celebrate Su-Mei’s release from the convent, but just as the group was settling down to their feast, they heard a commotion outside and many foreign voices. The typhoon had blown off most of the windows of the Royal Lisbon Hotel, and its Western guests were being relocated to the Dragon Inn, the only establishment so far unaffected by the wind and rain.

“This place is where all the yellow monkeys stay?” a strident voice said in English. “What a rat hole! The chairs have got no bloody backs on them—and no cloths on the tables? I’ve seen pubs at the docks that were more respectable.”

“Hey, Andrew, are you bloody drunk already?” another voice asked, followed by a chorus of laughter. “The Chinamen don’t bother with linens on their tables, and they don’t use proper chairs, either.” The voice paused. “This is a damned fine place to bunk in this part of the world, and it’s here or back on board the bloody ship for us, mate.”

Andrew Johnstone, nephew of William Jardine, had just arrived in Macau on an opium run from India. Following in his uncle’s footsteps, he had shipped on the Scaleby Castle as surgeon’s mate and taken advantage of his privilege tonnage until he earned enough money to resign his commission and trade full-time for his uncle. He preferred to stay at James Matheson’s luxurious home when he was in Macau, but this afternoon Johnstone had decided to go drinking with some of the crew instead. When the weather was fair, they all remained on board the ship at anchor, but in the event of a typhoon, the officers who were off duty preferred to bed down at a hotel.

“This bloody—what do they call it—daifon?—has buggered our plans for the night, eh, gentlemen?”

“It’s a typhoon, mate. How many times have you been to China now? And ye haven’t learned the bleedin’ lingo yet?”

The first voice swore. “Typhoon! Bugger all. Where’s the whiskey? Don’t tell me the yellow monkeys only drink that rice swill!”

New voices spoke up among the clinking of glasses. “So who’s this bastard that Mr. Jardine wants you to meet with, Johnstone?”

“Some high lord nob, trades in the finest quality dope, from what I hear.”

“He’ll want the same color of silver as all the other yellow buggers, I’ll warrant,” replied the first man.

“He’s a bloody big shot mandarin by the name of Lee,” said Johnstone. “Runs the game in Canton, connected to all the dealers.”

Someone snorted. “Right, so where is this Lee bastard, anyway? Too bloody good to meet with the likes of us, is he?”

“He’s in Canton. The yellow bastard is making so much bloody coin on our opium he practically owns the city. Lives on a bloody estate—he collected so much silver he was able to buy himself a title.” Roars of laughter followed this statement amid shouts of “Sir Opium-Monger” and “Lee, Lord Monkeyshire.”

Pai Chu heard every word of this conversation from their private dining room and translated it all quietly for Su-Mei, who looked up to the ceiling, closed her eyes, and thanked God for another sign of his presence. How can I use this situation to our advantage? Su-Mei asked herself.

She was about to ask Pai Chu if she had any ideas when a drunken sailor from the Scaleby Castle crashed through the screen that separated this private dining room from the main hall. Lee Shao Lin jerked his stool back, startled, and two of his men rushed in front of him to protect him. A third bodyguard picked up the drunken foreigner and tossed him back into the main dining hall, where he hit his head on the corner of a table.

The sailor leaped up, blood dripping from his head wound. “Bloody hell!” he shouted. “What was that?” Before anyone could respond, three other sailors, deep in their cups, came to his aid. They attacked Lee Shao Lin’s men, and a brawl broke out. Travers Higgins, currently billeted on the Scaleby Castle, was among them. Not thinking clearly, he joined in. Nothing like a healthy pub brawl to let off steam, he thought as he smashed a bottle over a Chinaman’s back. We’ve all been cooped up together for too long.

Lee Shao Lin’s men, not being familiar with the habits of drunken foreign devil sailors, assumed this was an assassination attempt on a Chinese lord, which was a serious offense with dire consequences. They drew their knives and prepared to protect their master and his daughter.

The sailors stared at one another, alcohol evaporating under cold, real fear. The dining hall fell silent.

“Stand down, gentlemen!” shouted Higgins, staring at the Chinese men with the big, wicked-looking knives. “No reason to bring weapons to bear. This is just a friendly scrap. Sailors blowing off steam. We meant no harm by it.”

The bodyguards understood not a word of English and assumed Higgins was hurling insults at them and their boss. He was pointing his finger at them, a clear challenge in their culture. They noticed that most of the foreign devils wore knives of their own at their waists, and the shouting man had his hand dangerously near his belt. Fear, confusion, distrust of the foreign devils, and their warrior training all blocked any trace of caution, and they charged the sailors, weapons out.

The sailors, Higgins included, were shocked into sobriety and reached for their blades, ready to fight for their lives. The senior officers were shouting at everyone, and Johnstone, from a place of safety behind a sideboard, began to suspect that something quite serious was happening.

Su-Mei was seated near the toppled screen and suddenly realized that she was directly between the lines of men. She started to inch away just as both sides bounded forward. Pai Chu, in the clarity of an adrenaline rush, saw that a foreign devil’s knife was going to pierce Su-Mei’s side if he kept running. Without thinking, she leaped up, flung herself at the man and screamed at Su-Mei to get out of the way.

Higgins staggered back to avoid the Chinese woman who had just hurled herself at him, but he lost his balance, and as he swung his arm upward to shift his weight, the knife, kept razor-sharp to slice ropes in an emergency, buried itself point first in the woman’s stomach, just below her breastbone. She fell to the ground, blood gushing onto the polished wood floor and an eerie, whining howl coming from her wide-open mouth. Su-Mei, still on the ground where she had fallen when Pai Chu pushed past her, began to scream.

“Oh, bloody fuck! What the hell have you done?” bawled Johnstone from the other side of the room.

Higgins turned pale. He dropped the knife and was about to kneel to help the woman when one of the bodyguards, shouting in Chinese, bolted toward him with his blade raised.

“STOP!” Shao Lin’s powerful voice echoed through the room, silencing everyone. He spoke in Chinese, but even the foreign men froze. This strange ugly woman from the convent had just saved his daughter’s life, and now she was screaming in pain and bleeding like a slaughtered pig on the floor. One of the foreign devils rushed across the room and knelt at her side. He pressed both palms over the wound to try to slow the bleeding, but Shao Lin’s men knocked him down and put him in a chokehold.

Higgins and two other sailors made a move to help the surgeon, and the rest of the bodyguards stepped forward, weapons out.

“Everyone stay where you are.” The words were spoken calmly in Chinese and then in English. An elderly priest, robes hanging like limp sails on his thin body, stepped into the room. It was Father Afonso, who had just arrived at the inn at the request of William Jardine. The senior partner was on his way back to England and wanted to make sure his nephew made use of his services. Father Afonso had notified Matheson the day before that he would no longer translate for him on matters relating to the opium trade but he would continue to help his fellow Westerners with other matters. After meeting Shao Lin, he had gone to the Royal Lisbon Hotel in a driving rain and high winds to find Johnstone. The place was in shambles. A terrified chambermaid told him that the party of Western men had moved to the Dragon Inn. He said a quick prayer of thanks—he had arrived just in time.

“This man,” said Father Afonso, indicating Johnstone, “is a healer.” He moved slowly toward Shao Lin, not looking at his bodyguards.

“We don’t need a foreign devil healer,” snapped Shao Lin. “Go get the best herbalist in Macau and bring him here now! This woman saved my daughter’s life, and we must save hers.” His manservant rushed out of the inn to find a sedan chair, but the carriers had all gone home to wait out the typhoon. The streets were vacant and washed with heavy rain.

“Lord Lee,” said Father Afonso, still speaking calmly and without raising his voice, “this woman will die if you don’t let the Englishman help her. She is bleeding, and your herbalist will not be able to do anything with such a wound. You know this is true. If her life is important to you, let this man help her.”

“Honorable Father,” cried Su-Mei, still crouching on the floor, “you must not let her die! She saved my life, and the herbalist will not get here in time. Please, Honorable Father, I am begging!” She dropped her head into her hands, sobbing.

Lee Shao Lin took a second to consider the situation, then nodded. “Confine this foreign devil who stabbed her,” he ordered. His men took hold of Higgins, forced him to sit, and tied him to a dining room stool. He complied, wordless and limp with shock.

Johnstone shouted for a sailor to bring his medical valise, which was luckily still in the hallway and not stowed away in the upstairs rooms. He motioned to another sailor to come assist him.

“Apply pressure just there,” he said. The sailor used his handkerchief and both hands to try to stanch the flow. Johnstone tore away Pai Chu’s garment to get a better look at the wound. The Chinese men and Su-Mei gasped. This foreign devil was not only touching the body of a Chinese woman, but he was ripping off her clothes! Two of the bodyguards murmured angrily.

“Everyone else, get out,” ordered Shao Lin. Father Afonso repeated it in English for the sailors.

“Please don’t die!” Su-Mei cried. Still on her knees, she crawled closer to Pai Chu’s head. “Pai Chu, please don’t die!”

Pai Chu whispered what might have been Su-Mei’s name before she lost consciousness.

Andrew Johnstone looked at Pai Chu’s wound and sighed. “Almighty God, let this woman live!” he said, shaking his head.

One of the officers brought his medical bag, and Johnstone cleaned the wound as well as he could. He slipped a pellet of solid morphine inside the wound before bandaging it to ease the woman’s pain and keep her quiet. When he rose, wiping his reddened hands on a bit of gauze, he looked for Father Afonso.

“She needs rest. Can someone get her to a bed?” Father Afonso spoke to two of Lee’s men. One of the men lifted her up and followed the other upstairs. Su-Mei rose to follow them, but her father gestured for her to remain.

“Will she live?” Shao Lin asked Father Afonso.

“The wound is deep,” said Johnstone, guessing at his meaning. “But it didn’t penetrate any of her vital organs. Her heart and lungs are untouched, although it did cut into her lower esophagus.” He pointed to his own neck and chest to demonstrate, not sure how much medical terminology this ancient priest knew in any language.

Father Afonso translated, and Shao Lin breathed a sigh of relief. “So she will survive?” Su-Mei clasped her hands together, not daring to say anything.

Johnstone nodded when Father Afonso translated the question. “Aye, she may survive, if she’s strong, and if she hasn’t lost too much blood. There’s no telling at this point.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, careful not to smear blood on his face. “However, the esophagus will grow scar tissue there, blocking the opening, which will make it painful for her to eat. She will experience frequent nausea and emesis—at times rather forceful emesis.” The priest looked puzzled. “She will not be able to keep food down easily, and at times she may eject partially digested food rather violently out of her mouth.” Father Afonso paled and dutifully translated the surgeon’s words. “She will be in quite intense pain, possibly for the rest of her life,” Johnstone finished sadly. He had cared for sailors with similar knife wounds, and he was familiar with the symptoms that afflicted them until the end of their days. The prognosis was always poor.

“This woman must rest undisturbed for at least one week so her wound has a chance to heal.” Father Afonso translated this, and Shao Lin finally found his own voice.

“Who is this man to tell us how to treat our own people? When the typhoon passes, we will get the best herbalist available to heal her. She looks like a woman with a strong constitution, and she will return to health.” He gestured for Su-Mei to rise and follow him out. “Tell the foreign healer we are grateful for his efforts, but we will manage her care from now on.”

“Honorable Father,” said Su-Mei as she trotted after her father, “Pai Chu heard the foreign devils’ conversation earlier, before the man crashed through the screen, and she told me that this man—the doctor—is named Master Johnstone. He is the nephew of Taipan Jardine.”

“Really? Then I think the taipan has a lot to answer for. His nephew may be skilled in medicine, but he is a vulgar man.”

“A word, Father, if you please,” said Johnstone. A waiter had brought him a basin of warm water and a towel, and he was washing his hands in the dining room, watching the angry Chinaman depart with the other young woman, who he suspected was the man’s daughter. “Who was that bloody Chinaman? And what is the injured woman to him? A servant?”

“That bloody Chinaman, Master Johnstone, is the Honorable Lord Lee Shao Lin. He is your good uncle’s business associate,” Father Afonso replied drily.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Johnstone’s face turned red. “That was Lee? The mandarin I’m supposed to discuss trade with? What was he doing here? The bastard’s supposed to be in Canton.” He groaned. “What have these sodding buggers done?”

“I do not know the injured lady, sir. By the look of her clothing, she is a servant, possibly a companion or maid for his daughter. But if what I heard from Lord Lee is correct, she did save his daughter’s life, so things will go considerably better for you if she lives. It is a stroke of divine providence that your lot of drunken sailors didn’t stab his daughter instead.” Father Afonso made the sign of the cross and glanced upward.

“Higgins?” Johnstone spoke without looking down. In the chaos everyone seemed to have forgotten about the sailor tied to a stool in the middle of the deserted dining room.

“Aye, sir?”

“You are a damned fool and damned lucky that you stuck the filly you did and not the other one. You could have caused a major incident if you had stabbed this Lee’s daughter. Let’s hope the servant girl survives, or you will find yourself in rather tight straits.” Let’s hope my uncle doesn’t hear a word of any of this, particularly my presence here, he did not say aloud.

“Aye, sir, you’re right, sir,” said Higgins. “Although I seem to be in rather tight straits as it is, sir. Do you think you can untie me now? This Lee seems to have forgotten about having me put in irons—or whatever he planned to do to me.”

“Well, none of us is going anywhere in this weather,” said Johnstone. “Father Afonso, can you inform Lord Lee that I vouch for this man and that he will be confined to his room until such time as we can solve this problem with civility and without involving the law or his bloody brutes?” With a sigh, he picked up Higgins’s knife, now rust-colored with dried blood, and used it to part the silken cords that the bodyguards had used to tie him up.

At the end of each day, Father Afonso found himself praying for the soul of Father Francisco. He lit candles at the shrines of his patron, St. Francis, and the Blessed Virgin, who could intercede on behalf of sinners. Knowing the true nature of Father Francisco’s sins and that the boy he had been was blameless in these crimes only made him pray harder for his mentor’s redemption. No man is without sin, he reminded himself every time he lit a candle, pushing away the ugly memories.

Before he retired for the evening, Father Afonso sought out Shao Lin. He wanted to do what he could to help solve this problem; Shao Lin and Jardine had both been very generous patrons of the church throughout the years, and bad blood between the Chinese and the British benefited no one.

While her father was occupied with the priest, Su-Mei slipped away and found Pai Chu’s room. She would watch over her and pray and try to understand what could have driven her to risk her own life to save a friend’s. Dear Lord God, she prayed, please let Pai Chu live so I can thank her. She is a good friend.

“No! No, no, no. It is impossible,” snarled Shao Lin. “The foreign devil must pay! He nearly stabbed my own daughter! Englishman or not, he will pay for his crime.” He paced back and forth in the private dining room, now cleared of dishes and bloodstains. Father Afonso tried to argue, but Shao Lin overrode him. “He started a fight in an inn! He brandished a weapon at a member of my family! If my bodyguards had not bound him, he would have killed us all. And after all,” he reasoned, “the man is a common sailor, is he not? Whom do we offend by prosecuting one worthless foreigner?”

“Lord Lee,” remonstrated Father Afonso, “you will offend the British. Every one of them, including Master Jardine and Master Matheson.” He paused. “And the young man stabbed the girl by accident. You know he wasn’t trying to murder your daughter, or anyone else. It’s a mystery to me why this young woman put herself in harm’s way. Your daughter must be very dear to her.”

“She saved my daughter,” said Shao Lin. “And perhaps the sailor did not intend to do harm, but harm was done, and he must pay. We must make an example of him, or every foreign devil will be attacking our noblewomen without a thought to the consequences.”

“What about forgiveness?” suggested Father Afonso. “Do you not think that would be a better way for the British traders to think of you? As a merciful and forgiving man—or one bent on revenge?”

“Revenge,” said Shao Lin quickly. “Revenge is strength.”

Father Afonso was about to respond with some appropriate quotations from scripture when an unearthly crack, followed by the sound of tearing wood and tinkling glass, interrupted their conversation. The priest glanced up just in time to see the top of a tall hoop pine crash through the wall. Through the hole, Shao Lin could see what was left of the tree blowing in the wind against a charcoal-gray sky.

“The roof!” exclaimed Shao Lin. “The tree came down!” Father Afonso made no response. Shao Lin turned his head, but the priest was no longer standing in the middle of the room, his sanctimonious hands spread out in front of him. There was only the massive tree. “Father Afonso?” He glanced down and saw the lower half of the priest’s body, partially covered by the foliage from the man-sized trunk that had landed on him.

He scarcely had time to process what had happened before there was a second crash and the lower half of the tree, its roots undermined by the soaking rain, tilted sideways and fell into the inn. Shao Lin smelled rain and pungent, resiny needles, and then everything went black.

Travers Higgins, released on his own recognizance, heard the crash and came running. The trunk of an enormous old tree had split the inn in two, with most of the guests and staff on one side and Higgins and the private dining room on the other. He fought his way through the ruined screen, and in the dim light he could just make out the old priest’s legs pinned beneath a heavy branch. Higgins began to shift the branch when he noticed that the thickest section of the fallen wood covered the man’s head.

“No!” He took a step forward and then stopped, stricken. The priest’s skull was crushed beyond hope. “Ah, Father, I’m sorry,” said Higgins. He wrung his hands and backed away from the body. The room was dim; all the lamps had been extinguished, and rainwater mixed with mud was pouring in through the broken wall. Higgins felt something soft and warm against his ankle. He looked down and saw another man trapped beneath the tree. He put his face near the man’s face to see in the low light. It was that man, the big shot mandarin—Lee. Higgins dropped to his knees in the cold water and felt along the man’s body. He was breathing!

“Let’s have you, then, mister,” muttered Higgins. “One death is enough.” He rocked the broad branch back and forth until he felt it shift. He looked down again and saw that the man, Lee, was conscious and watching him. His eyes were filled with fear. The branch was too heavy and too big around for Higgins to move it on his own, and it seemed to be stuck at an angle into the corner of the room. A creak above him made Higgins look up. Another tree branch, splintered into jagged points, hung precariously above them, ready to fall on the man’s chest. Think, man!

Leverage. Higgins searched around the room for anything strong. The leg of a smashed stool might do it. He angled one end beneath the branch, carefully considering which way it would roll and whether it would cause more damage to the man he was trying to save.

“Sir, you’ve got to roll to your right when I tip this great buggering branch—do you understand?” No, of course he doesn’t; I don’t speak bleeding Chinese. I’ve just got to do it. Higgins pushed with all his strength on one end of the lever. It didn’t budge. He hung his entire body over it, lifting his feet off the floor. “Move, damn you! Bloody son of a whore!” He cursed the tree, the storm, the whole rotten country. He stood again and moved the lever two inches closer to Lee’s head and tried again. Any closer and it might break the man’s neck when it shifted. He bounced his weight on it. He swore some more. Exasperated, he kicked the lever where it touched the tree. And it moved.

It moved! Higgins pulled the lever out and placed it carefully under the branch that was trapping Lee’s leg. He felt the lever hit something hard and heard Lee cry out in pain. “Sorry, sir!” he called. He pushed down on the lever again, noticing that the lacquered wood was starting to crack from the strain. “Bloody hell!” And he threw his weight on it, and the great ancient branch rolled gently off and landed next to Lee with a splash.

Higgins tossed the splintered lever aside and grasped the man by his shoulders. “Can you move?” Lee grunted and took hold of Higgins’s arms. He sat up, but when he tried to bend his legs, he cried out again. Higgins got behind the man and hoisted him up under his armpits. He draped the man’s arms over his shoulders and dragged him out, boots sloshing through the stormwater, cursing, just as the branch broke free and crashed down, ripping a hole in the floor next to the space occupied by the man just seconds earlier. The Chinaman he carried muttered some words of his own, and Higgins suspected they were speaking the same language. Their eyes met and they nodded at each other.

Shao Lin must have lost consciousness again because he awoke with the foreign devil healer stitching up the hole in his shin where a branch had penetrated. Both his knees were swollen and purple, but he could bend them slightly. The foreign healer said something, probably telling him not to move. Shao Lin looked around the room for the sailor who had pulled him out from under the tree, but he wasn’t there. He wondered why Father Afonso wasn’t there to translate—and then he remembered.

The healer covered his wound with white gauze bandages and drew a sheet over his bare legs. Shao Lin cringed at the idea that he was indebted to one foreign devil for tending to his wounds and another one for saving his life.

Su-Mei had heard the loud crashing noises and the wind howling inside the building. She ran out to find half the dining hall turned into forest and foreign devils crowding around her father, who looked injured. A lantern had been lit, filling the room with flickers and shadows. She looked closer at the fallen tree in the private dining room and noticed Father Afonso’s motionless body floating in about six inches of water. His head was pinned down by part of the tree. Su-Mei’s vision grew dim, and she felt her own pulse in her ears before she lost consciousness and crumpled to the floor in shock.

Morning came, with no discernible lightening of the skies. The typhoon was still blowing strong, and no one could leave the Dragon Inn. Shao Lin’s men, the inn’s workmen, and even the sailors from Scaleby Castle all helped to seal off the room that the tree had destroyed and clean up the mess of splintered wood, mud, and ruined furnishings. Father Afonso’s body was carefully wrapped in sheets and moved to an empty room.

Shao Lin awoke feeling stronger but soon realized he would not be able to walk just yet. Pai Chu drifted in and out of consciousness all night. She was still very weak from losing so much blood, and Johnstone hesitated to give her a dram of laudanum, a tincture of opium. The irony of refusing to administer a processed form of the very drug that his company was smuggling into this country with impunity was not lost on him. Su-Mei was up all night, going from one room to another to check on her father and Pai Chu.

Travers Higgins was left alone. Under normal circumstances he would have been jailed and most likely convicted for attacking a Chinese woman, and there was nothing his government could have done to prevent it since there were witnesses to the fight that was started by the drunken sailors. Johnstone was already planning to smuggle him out of the country on the next ship home as soon as the weather cleared. Until that time, he advised Higgins to help the others repair the storm damage and stay clear of the injured parties and their retinue.

The wind and rain continued to howl, and the building continued to shake, but the worst was over.

“Where is the man to whom I owe my life?” Lee Shao Lin asked the following morning. He limped out to what was left of the main dining room, assisted by two of his men and a walking stick that another guest had left behind. His face was inscrutable, his tone betraying nothing.

Johnstone’s understanding of Chinese culture was murky at best, but he couldn’t imagine Lee would prosecute a man who had just saved his life. The young man could easily have left him to die under the fallen tree.

In Chinese culture, when one’s life is saved by another, one is forever indebted to that person. Shao Lin, after a sleepless night, had reached a decision. As much as it rankled him to admit it, he could not report Higgins for the crime of attacking Pai Chu. She was only a servant, and he owed the foreign devil.

Shao Lin pointed to one of the few stools still intact and gestured for Johnstone to sit down. He ordered tea, and the two sat motionless, not exchanging a single word, for about fifteen minutes.

Su-Mei, not finding her father in his room, came out to look for him and saw him seated at a table with the foreign healer. “Honorable Father, I think Pai Chu is going to live! She was awake for a short while, and she smiled at me. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Honorable Father, please tell me that Pai Chu will not die!”

“My young daughter, you were very fortunate that your friend intervened last night, or you would have been the one lying in her place. You are forever indebted to her now, so what can you do to begin to repay this debt?”

Su-Mei closed her eyes for a moment, thanking God from her heart for what had transpired last night to keep Pai Chu close to her, although she could not understand why he had taken Father Afonso. She tried to comfort herself with Mother Amanda’s words: “God works in mysterious ways that we will never understand.”

An idea popped into her head. “Honorable Father,” Su-Mei replied, “I hope with all my heart that Pai Chu will survive, and after she is well, I would like for her to be my adopted sister so I can repay her every day for what she did for me.” She paused. “Honestly, Honorable Father, I can’t stand my sisters from Honorable Second Mother. It would be nice to have a kind one.” Su-Mei’s father laughed out loud when he heard this. He was well aware of the jealousies and manipulations that concubines engaged in with their children to compete for a man’s affection and wealth.

The idea was not a strange one. Adopted sisters and brothers were common among Chinese families. Usually, the pair were close friends, and there was even a term for formalizing these relationships that translated as “together and pray.” Two women or men who wished to adopt each other as sisters or brothers made offerings to the deities, a ritual was performed, and witnesses were invited. Once the relationship was official, it could not be broken frivolously.

“I have no choice but to allow it, then,” said Shao Lin. “Let’s hope that your friend—what’s her name again?—will survive so she can enjoy the rest of her life in comfort as payment for her sacrifice and selflessness.”

Su-Mei’s face lit up when she heard her father utter those words, and she excused herself so she could go tell Pai Chu right away. She was so excited imagining what Pai Chu would say that she ran smack into a foreign devil in the hallway on her way out of the room. He caught her before she could fall and said something in English that she didn’t understand. Su-Mei had never been so close to any man before, and certainly not a foreigner. Her heart began to pound, and when she looked into his face—his eyes are so strange!—she felt dizzy, as though she’d stood up too fast. She reminded herself that she wanted to learn more about these foreign devils, so instead of running away in fear or crumpling into a heap on the floor, she forced a smile, bobbed her head, and tried to walk away with dignity.

“Oh, beg pardon, my lady!” Higgins said as he caught the young woman’s arms to prevent her from falling. Their eyes met, and something came over him. It took a few seconds for Higgins to recognize her. This was the daughter of the man whose life he had saved, the one whose friend had thrown herself at him to protect her. Chinese faces had always seemed closed off to him, like masks, but this one was different. Her eyes were large and inviting, and her lips parted gently, revealing a flash of teeth. His skin tingled, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. He had felt this way before. This is the exact worst woman in the world for you to fall for, he told himself. When she extracted herself from his arms with a tiny smile and stepped away, he felt as if he’d lost something precious.

Lee Shao Lin, furious that a strange man would dare to touch his daughter, stood up. The pain from his knees and the realization that this foreign devil was the very one who had saved his life hit him at the same time. He sat down heavily, biting his tongue to keep from swearing. He managed to catch the foreign devil’s eye when he entered the room and gestured for him to sit next to the healer.

Father Afonso was dead, so no one could translate for the three men sitting at a small round table drinking tea and staring at each other. The wind continued to howl outside, rattling the shutters. There would be no translator available until the storm abated.

“I pardon you for your crime,” Lee Shao Lin said. “And I thank you for saving my life.” Higgins raised his cup in a salute, not understanding a word. He was still thinking about the lovely young Chinese woman he’d held so briefly in his arms.

“I am willing to forget about the events that occurred yesterday,” Shao Lin said to the healer. “You have provided service to my family. To honor the memory of Father Afonso, a good and wise man, I will overlook your actions, and we will do business together, as I have always done business with your honorable uncle.” He inclined his head toward the healer and took a long gulp of tea.

Johnstone smiled awkwardly. He had no idea what the mandarin had just said.

Chapter Nine

Typhoon Catherine continued to ravage Macau, and Chinese and Western travelers continued their uneasy coexistence inside the damaged Dragon Inn. Two days had passed since the tree had fallen, and the men saw each other at every meal, but they couldn’t communicate. They expressed goodwill through their gestures and drank their tea in silence. They stayed at opposite ends of the inn and took their meals in their rooms, not entirely because the communal dining hall was in ruins. The Westerners ate mostly grilled or boiled meat prepared by the ship’s cook, while the Chinese guests enjoyed well-seasoned meat and vegetables. The Westerners would not admit it, but the Chinese dishes looked and smelled much better than what they were eating.

Lee Shao Lin felt a surge of relief when he learned that Pai Chu was recovering and likely to survive. If she had died, it would have been very difficult for him to avoid reporting the incident, which would have put the foreign sailor in serious jeopardy. Shao Lin convinced himself that keeping the incident quiet sufficed as repayment for saving his life, and now he had saved the man from a lifetime in prison. He didn’t like to admit to himself that he couldn’t stand offering more, such as what Su-Mei had proposed for Pai Chu. Spending time with foreign devils for business was trouble enough.

Pai Chu was feeling a little stronger, but she still couldn’t eat solid food. She had lost a lot of blood and was still quite weak. The healer had not bothered to explain anything to her, but she knew her digestion would never be the same. Father God, she prayed, thank you for saving my life. I gladly accept this pain and whatever suffering I must endure in the future as the price for being able to stay with Su-Mei forever. She made the sign of the cross. To do your work, she added hastily.

As soon as Pai Chu was strong enough to sit up, Su-Mei insisted that the ritual to formalize their adopted sisterhood be performed before her father could change his mind—she didn’t know that Shao Lin was too much of a traditionalist to go back on his word to the person who had saved his daughter’s life. Such a ceremony was usually performed outdoors, beneath the heavens, but the typhoon prevented that, so instead Su-Mei, Pai Chu, and Shao Lin knelt before the front door in front of witnesses and offered incense and food to the proper deities. Shao Lin announced that the Lee family was adopting Pai Chu as Su-Mei’s sister and that she would be afforded the stature and recognition owed to all his children. Pai Chu’s pain during the ceremony was excruciating, but in her heart, she was singing.

To celebrate, a feast was assembled out of all that was left in the kitchen. Pai Chu was barely strong enough to sit at the table, and she couldn’t eat anything solid. Even a few sips of clear broth caused her a great deal of discomfort, and she began to wonder if she would ever be able to eat again.

As a show of good faith, Shao Lin had invited Johnstone and Higgins as witnesses, and they cheerfully joined the feast as well. Galley food was tiresome enough at sea; they were more than ready for something new and exotic. Pai Chu couldn’t help but notice that the man who had stabbed her kept staring at Su-Mei. She grew suspicious.

Su-Mei, oblivious to the sailor’s attention, was thinking about how she could create an opportunity to learn more about the Westerners. As she swallowed the last of her tea, it came to her.

“Honorable Father,” she said in front of everyone. “Now that Pai Chu is recognized as my adopted sister, perhaps she can be trusted to help you, her adopted Honorable Father, to communicate with the foreigners. Pai Chu is fluent in English, and she is very discreet.”

Irritated that his daughter had made such an announcement in front of everyone, Shao Lin nonetheless had to admit that Pai Chu had earned his trust, and, more importantly, he desperately needed someone who could translate for him now that Father Afonso was dead.

“Honorable Father,” Pai Chu said, gritting her teeth through the pain, “I am happy to serve you in any way that would be of value to my new family.”

“Then please tell the Englishman who saved my life that I am indebted to him. To repay this debt, I will not report his crime of attacking and wounding a Chinese woman, and he may depart Macau a free man.”

Pai Chu dutifully repeated his words to Johnstone and Higgins in English. She spoke scarcely above a whisper and kept her eyes on the table; she was unaccustomed to speaking to men who were not members of the clergy. Both men were surprised and pleased that at last someone could end the silence between them and Lee Shao Lin.

“Well, isn’t this a fine coincidence!” said Johnstone. “Please tell His Lordship that we are very sorry indeed for this unfortunate incident and that we meant absolutely no harm to him or his family.”

“Please tell His Lordship that it was never my intention to injure you, an unarmed woman, and for that, miss, I am truly sorry!” Higgins added.

When Pai Chu had translated their words, Shao Lin felt pleased with his decision to let the sailor go and with his excellent idea of having this new adopted daughter translate for him. She would do very nicely in his meetings with the foreign devils; he could simply explain her presence as his adopted daughter. He smiled benevolently at Su-Mei, forgetting all the reasons he had banished her to Macau in the first place. Su-Mei said a silent prayer in her heart to thank God.

“Since you are the nephew of the taipan, Master Johnstone,” said Shao Lin through Pai Chu, “I would like you to send a message to your good honorable uncle when he arrives back in his home country.” He had not met this James Matheson, who stayed in China to run the opium business while his senior partner returned to England, and was reluctant to enter into communication with him before they had been formally introduced.

“By all means,” Johnstone replied. “I would be happy to pass on any message you have for Uncle William. I can also arrange for you to meet with Mr. Matheson directly. He is in Canton just now.”

Shao Lin inclined his head. “I would be appreciative of a proper introduction to Master Matheson so that we may begin discussions about our business.”

Pai Chu gave up all pretense of eating and tossed the men’s words back and forth across the table. She began to relax and almost enjoy the experience of rattling off rapid English to native speakers.

“Please tell your uncle and Master Matheson that we need to reduce the shipments of opium to our Celestial Kingdom. These large quantities are attracting the attention of the Imperial Court now that so many of our people rely so heavily on your medicine.” Lee Shao Lin attempted a righteous tone, as if he had just found out that the substance he’d been selling all these years might be addictive. “Tell them that there is an imperial emissary under direct orders from the emperor on the case in Canton, and there will be trouble if we do not reduce or halt shipments of opium into our Celestial Kingdom.”

“I am happy to pass on your message, Your Lordship, but I’m afraid that when dealing in matters of this importance, you should be meeting with Mr. Matheson and conveying this to him directly,” said Johnstone. “Perhaps when Miss Pai Chu is well enough, she could assist with translation. I shall arrange a meeting in Canton or Macau, whichever is your preference, sir.”

Shao Lin still objected to using a female translator, but he had no other choice now. He had been hearing rumors from Peking that the emperor was very upset about the epidemic of opium addiction. So upset, in fact, that he had dispatched an imperial emissary by the name of Lin Tse-Hsu to Canton to halt the opium imports, punish those who were involved in the trade, and find a way to cure those who were addicted. A prickle of dread ran along Shao Lin’s spine. He had always been untouchable because of his father’s status, but how long would that hold once a special imperial emissary came sniffing around? For all he knew, this emissary had already been in Canton for some time, conducting his investigation secretly. Shao Lin’s role as a major opium trader was not the best-kept secret in Canton, and exposure could bring down the most severe imperial penalty: death for himself and his entire family.

“Very well,” he said, attempting a semblance of calm. “Please ask Master Matheson to meet with me at his earliest convenience, and do not forget to mention that I forgave this English sailor for the heinous crime he committed and will not alert the authorities.”

Sure, you bloody maggot, Johnstone thought. And I’ll pardon your arse for attacking a subject of the British Empire! If Higgins hadn’t hauled your whirlygigs out from under that tree, you’d be as dead as poor Father Afonso. Out loud, he said, “It would be my pleasure to set up a meeting.”

Higgins couldn’t stop thinking about the Chinese girl, and he kept hoping for another opportunity to catch sight of her, but she was busy taking care of the one he had stabbed and helping her father. At last, late in the evening, while drinking with Mr. Johnstone and some of the other officers, he saw her make her way to the kitchen. With all the repairs, there was only a narrow passage between the salvaged dining room tables, and she had to squeeze past them. One of the officers, rather deeper in his cups than he should have been, stood and bowed to her. “Evening, missee, you speakee English?”

“How ah yooo?” she replied carefully, eyes cast down.

“Sit down, man,” Higgins hissed. “Don’t you know this is the Chinese boss’s daughter?”

The officer flushed. “Damn it, Higgins, why didn’t you tell me?” He inclined his head to the woman and sat down.

“Miss Lee,” Higgins said slowly, hoping she could understand, “my name is Travers Higgins, and I am at your service.” He pointed toward himself as he said his name.

She pointed to her chest and said, “Su-Mei.” She tried her English again. “How wah yoo?”

“Very well, I thank you. And you? How do you do?” Higgins couldn’t stop staring at her, even though he knew it was making her nervous. He had seen photographs of Chinese noblewomen, but they looked nothing like this. They wore stiff clothing and ornaments, and their faces were painted like porcelain dolls. In contrast, Su-Mei was as natural and fresh as a flower, her intelligence sparkling in her eyes and animating her expressions.

Su-Mei blushed, all her long-practiced English phrases escaping her. “I ahm werr. Well.” She wrapped her tongue around the unfamiliar consonants.

“Excellent!” Higgins bowed, not sure what to say next.

Even though she couldn’t think of a single English word to say, Su-Mei didn’t want the conversation to end. Here she was, speaking English with an English person! Everyone kept telling her they were all so uncivilized and brutish, but this man—his name was so strange she had forgotten it the moment he spoke it—was polite and he seemed to be showing her respect, something she rarely encountered among Chinese men.

“Hah low,” she ventured.

“Hello to you too,” Higgins replied.

“Hellow,” Su-Mei repeated.

“Miss Lee, we’ll have you speaking English in no time,” the man replied. Su-Mei didn’t understand any of it, except that she thought he’d said her family name, but it didn’t matter. This kind English man seemed interested in communicating with her! She promised herself that she would work even harder to learn this impossible language so she could communicate with the strange people with bright blue eyes and yellow hair.

Typhoon Catherine spent itself at last on the following day, and Lee Shao Lin wasted no time in sending for a Chinese herbalist to come to the Dragon Inn to check on Pai Chu’s condition and see to his own leg wound. He grudgingly admitted to himself that the foreign devil had saved Pai Chu’s life with his savage tools and methods, but he didn’t see how she could recover properly without having an herbalist check her chi and prescribe an herbal remedy to bring her yin and yang back into balance.

Pai Chu, raised from birth by European nuns, was unfamiliar with Chinese traditional medicine. Nervous, she allowed the herbalist, a small man of fairly advanced age, to check the pulse at her wrists and examine her tongue. Occasionally, she glanced over at Su-Mei, who hovered at her shoulder.

“What is he doing, Su-Mei? I thought Master Johnstone was looking after me.”

Su-Mei patted her arm. “Honorable Father wishes you to be seen by a Chinese herbalist. He doesn’t trust the English methods. Master Siu is checking for a blockage in your chi.”

Pai Chu grew pale. “My air? I can breathe just fine!”

“No, silly,” said Su-Mei. “Your energy, in your body! He wants to make sure you don’t have too much yin, which means cold energy, or too much yang—you know, heat.” Su-Mei giggled nervously, enjoying the opportunity to be the teacher for once but also surprised that her friend, who was older and seemed so worldly, had never seen an herbalist. She hoped Pai Chu didn’t have any more questions, however, because she had offered up the extent of her knowledge on the topic.

“Miss Pai Chu must rest in bed for at least ten days so that her wound can heal and she can regain her strength,” Master Siu said at last. In spidery calligraphy he wrote out a list of ingredients that included ginseng, radish seeds, tangerine peel, and ten other mysterious substances for stomach ailments. He handed the scrap of paper to his assistant, who bowed and left the room at a run. “My assistant will return here with the proper herbs in a short time. Miss Pai Chu must take an infusion of them twice a day for all ten days. And now,” he said, rising from his stool, “for my examination of Lord Lee.”

“I need to return to Canton right away to check for any damage to my warehouses from this typhoon,” Shao Lin said as the herbalist checked his pulse. “I will have to hobble with a cane, but I must take care of things personally.” He thought for a moment. “Su-Mei, you and Pai Chu should return to Mother Amanda’s school so Pai Chu can recover. In ten days you will both come to Canton and join the rest of the family. I know you are desperate to return home, but Pai Chu saved your life, and it’s your duty to stay with her until she recovers.”

Su-Mei tried to suppress the grin on her face. “Honorable Father, I will of course stay here and do my duty for my sister, even if it means missing home and Honorable Mother. Which I do, so much.”

“Then it is settled. I will sail back this afternoon and return in ten days to take you and Pai Chu to Canton.”

The young women shared a glance, both thrilled by the news but trying not to show it.

“Yes, Honorable Father,” they replied in unison.

Mother Amanda was happy to learn that the plan to keep Sister Maria with Su-Mei had worked, although she was shocked and saddened to learn of Father Afonso’s demise. But there was little time to mourn—the convent buildings had suffered significant damage from the typhoon, and money had to be found for the repairs.

“While Sister Maria is recovering, Miss Lee, I must ask for your assistance in securing donations,” she said.

“Of course, Mother Amanda, I am so happy to be back here for another ten days, and it would be my honor to help the church.” Her father, she knew, would cheerfully pay for all the repairs and then some if she asked, but that might mean the end of her stay in Macau and any further interactions with the foreigners.

“Then we must write to our usual donors, but it would be helpful if we had something to sell or auction.” Mother Amanda paused delicately. “I don’t suppose you have anything of value? Jewels, perhaps? Jade objects?”

Su-Mei had another idea. “I could teach Chinese to foreigners—if someone can translate for me.” This would be the perfect way to interact with the Westerners and learn from them.

Mother Amanda stared. “That is a novel idea, Miss Lee, and certain to attract some interest. Many in Macau would be intrigued by the opportunity to learn Chinese from a noblewoman such as yourself. But are you certain—would your Honorable Father be quite amenable…?”

“Honorable Father brought me here to advance my education,” lied Su-Mei. “He would find this plan acceptable, providing I have a chaperone, of course.” One who speaks English and is already devoted to me and my family.

“Very well. We shall advertise Chinese lessons taught by a Chinese noblewoman.” Mother Amanda had a sudden thought. “Miss Lee, would you like to learn some hymns in English? You could sing in the choir, which would allow you to share your gift with God and learn English at the same time.”

“I…have never really sung before,” Su-Mei said. She recalled how she had felt at Mass when she heard the choir of beautiful voices and tried to join in. “But I would like to learn.”

Mother Amanda had a passion for music and poured it into the small convent choir. The nuns, a few lay sisters, and the female orphans who demonstrated a gift for it often sang together. They performed for themselves alone—and God—as women were not permitted to sing in front of a congregation of men.

Pai Chu translated two hymns into Chinese for Su-Mei and added notations on how to pronounce the English words. Su-Mei spent most of the night studying and memorizing the songs. By morning her English vocabulary and pronunciation had improved considerably. Learning new words and phrases made Su-Mei happy, but she could never have imagined the feeling of power that arose in her when she sang those hymns with the other women. She had never felt this way before and was overcome by the experience. She had already been touched by this Holy Spirit, but to sing praises to God filled her with a rare and acutely personal joy. It felt as though she was communicating directly with him, and his presence was in her heart as she sang. Tears were streaming down her cheeks when the choir finished its last Amen.

Mother Amanda witnessed this display of emotion and struggled briefly with the sin of pride. This is the Lord’s work, she reminded herself, for his divine purpose.

The Dragon Inn and the convent weren’t the only structures ravaged by the typhoon. Travers Higgins and the rest of the crew of the Scaleby Castle found themselves at leave in Macau until the necessary repairs to the ship could be made. As it was a Sunday, and the public houses that served Westerners were closed, they opted to attend a Catholic service, there being no Anglican or Protestant houses of worship in the enclave. A neatly hand-lettered sign in the sacristy advertised an auction that afternoon to raise money for repairs to the neighboring convent.

Higgins, anticipating a long, tedious sermon in Latin, was stunned to see the Chinese lady, Miss Lee, seated a few rows ahead. Why didn’t she depart with her father? he wondered. He entertained himself during the service by watching the movements of her graceful head and shoulders as she prayed and her delicate, pale hands as they turned the pages in a hymnal.

After Mass the congregation was invited to the courtyard outside the church for refreshments. Baskets of bread and cakes were sold, along with household items that had been donated, and then the auction began.

Works of art were the first items to be auctioned, and they sold at prices well above their worth. It was not unusual for homesick Westerners to give generously to missionary churches, and most Westerners in Macau were enjoying the considerable profits of the opium trade. After the final items were auctioned off, the mother superior of the convent made an announcement about some additional lots of particular interest. Johnstone motioned to the senior officers around him that it was a good time to go.

Higgins stood and began to follow the others out of the courtyard while the mother superior offered the services of her nuns and novices to clean the home of the highest bidder for one month. There were many large homes built with opium profits, and they needed constant tending in the subtropical climate. This item sold after fierce bidding and collected a handsome donation.

The second item was Chinese lessons to be taught by bilingual nuns. European ladies living in Macau were interested in learning Chinese so they could communicate with their servants and haggle in the markets, so those were snapped up quickly.

Higgins and the other officers were at the gate when Mother Amanda said, “A new member of our congregation, Lady Lee Su-Mei, has generously donated four hours of Chinese lessons per day for eight days. She is a noblewoman from Canton, and we are indeed honored that she is supporting our church.”

Higgins froze. “However,” Mother Amanda continued, “her English is not quite proficient yet, so our Sister Maria has volunteered to help translate for Lady Su-Mei. This would be a most diverting experience for the winner, who would not only learn about the culture of noble Chinese families but also have the opportunity to help the lady improve her English conversation.”

“I say, mate,” said Higgins to Lieutenant Adams, the last officer still in the courtyard, who had turned around to see what was keeping him. “I’ll give you my privilege tonnage going back to England if you can lend me enough money to win this.”

Adams chuckled. “Are you mad, man? Your tonnage is worth a bleeding fortune back home! What d’you want to learn Chinese for, anyway? All the buggers speak English!”

“Just lend me the damned money, will you? It’s a bloody godsend for you, and you know it.”

“All right, Higgins, but I worry you’ve gone bloody daft. I’ll make a monkey off your tonnage, and no mistake.”

“And welcome to it, man. Now, quiet—I’ve got to place my bid!”

The bidding was not as robust as Mother Amanda had hoped, which suited Higgins just fine. For a little over ten pounds sterling, Lee Su-Mei was engaged to teach him Chinese for eight glorious days. He could hardly contain himself as he handed the money over to the mother superior and didn’t dare look over at Miss Lee. His tonnage was easily worth the five hundred pounds Adams had predicted, but spending the next week with this astonishingly beautiful Chinese lady was worth all that and more.

“Please follow me, sir, and meet your new Chinese tutor,” Mother Amanda said, cutting into his excited thoughts.

“Miss Lee, such a pleasure to meet you again. I am at your service.” Higgins spoke slowly and carefully.

Su-Mei bobbed her head, and blood rushed to her cheeks. “Sank yoo, sank yoo. I am onnahed to sehve yoo.”

“Indeed, Miss Lee, quite. The feeling is mutual.” Bloody hell, what am I on about? She doesn’t understand a word!

Mother Amanda explained that the lessons would be conducted in that very courtyard, with Sister Maria acting as translator and chaperone. Higgins nodded, agreeing to everything she said.

“Your lessons will begin tomorrow at nine in the morning, if that is suitable, sir?” Mother Amanda said.

“Yes, indeed!” Higgins reached out to shake Miss Lee’s hand, then pulled his hand back, suspecting that this was perhaps not appropriate. He bowed slightly instead. “It will be my pleasure to wait upon you at that time tomorrow, Miss Lee. Mother Superior.” He bowed again and stepped smartly to catch up with Adams, who was still shaking his head at Higgins’s folly.

“You’re going to teach Chinese to that no-good barbarian who almost killed me?” Pai Chu hissed when she heard the news. “I don’t trust him, Su-Mei. He looks at you in a very disrespectful and inappropriate way.”

“I’m sure that is not true,” said Su-Mei, wondering if Master Higgins had indeed been looking at her.

“It is true, Su-Mei—trust me! These brutes have only one thing on their minds. How do you think I came into this world? One of those foreign devils from an English ship forced himself on my poor mother. He ruined any chance she had for a good marriage and a happy life. I could never allow that to happen to you, my dearest.” Pai Chu’s voice throbbed with emotion. As far as she was concerned, all British sailors were drunken, vicious louts who attacked women. Hadn’t one tried to murder her only days ago?

“I think this one is different,” said Su-Mei. “He was polite to me at the inn and very sorry for what happened to you. I believe him when he said it was an accident. I am certain he won’t arrive for his language lessons drunk, and I don’t think he would do anything to hurt me.”

“Well, he won’t, Su-Mei, not if I am there to protect you.” Pai Chu laid her hand on Su-Mei’s arm, caressing it gently, while inside she seethed.

Su-Mei smiled at her friend, but her mind was elsewhere. Would Higgins continue to behave respectfully toward her, or was he just pretending to be honorable? Su-Mei didn’t know what to believe. Pai Chu’s mother’s experience was not that uncommon; but what she knew herself was that these were very interesting, brave, and seemingly reckless people who dared to cross vast oceans to come to her homeland to sell opium to men like her Honorable Father, who was making quite a lot of money from the exchange. Many people said the opium was a curse, but was its presence the fault of the foreigners or of men like her father? Or were the addicts themselves to blame? These questions were all so confusing! It was wrong, assuredly, to feel anything but the utmost respect toward one’s parents—or so she had been taught since childhood, but she was learning so many new things now: a new religion, a new language. What if everything I’ve been taught about the foreigners is wrong?

Chapter Ten

Canton, late 1838

Imperial Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu had been in Canton for three months performing his own private investigation into the opium trade. He had put together a small team of loyal investigators to gather intelligence, and they had presented him with a report that identified opium parlor owners in Canton, corrupt customs officials, Western smugglers, and the location of several opium warehouses in Canton. Lin’s official arrival date in Canton was announced as March 10, 1839, but the emissary preferred to avoid fanfare, and he wanted to see how the city really operated day to day, not the show the local officials would stage for him.

Only one year earlier, Emperor Dao Kwong had asked his Imperial Court, governor-generals, and senior magistrates to come up with suggestions for curtailing the opium epidemic. Level One Guan and Magistrate Lin Tse-Hsu’s recommendations were comprehensive and well planned; he emphasized attacking the Chinese end of the opium trade, arresting and punishing everyone from the wholesale traders to the pipe makers. Lin understood how the smugglers brought the drug in using corrupt officials in Canton, and his first recommendation was shutting down these foreign smugglers. Emperor Dao Kwong, realizing that Lin Tse-Hsu was probably one of the few truly incorruptible men in his court, made him a special emissary and charged him with ending the flow of opium into the country. Shao Lin’s father, Level One Guan Lee Man Ho, enthusiastically supported all of Lin’s recommendations, which played a role in the emperor’s decision to assign Lin as special emissary.

“Lord Magistrate Lin,” he announced in formal session before dispatching Lin to Canton, “as my special emissary and my most loyal guan, I hereby authorize you to rid our beloved Celestial Kingdom of this poison from the English Kingdom. We must remove the despicable corrupt guans and merchants who profit from this immoral and wicked trade. Therefore, I bestow upon you this imperial plaque, which authorizes you to act on my behalf. I urge you to show no mercy to the worst offenders—let us set an example for the English. Do not hesitate to punish our worst criminals with family extermination to send a clear message to all that the Celestial Kingdom will no longer tolerate the opium trade.”

An imperial eunuch took the plaque from the hands of the emperor and presented it to the kneeling emissary. It was carved from a single piece of white jade attached to a wooden back and tied to a silken cord dyed imperial yellow. Inscribed on the plaque was Lin’s name and “Imperial Special Emissary.” Below his name and title were the words “representing the Celestial Emperor” and a carving of the imperial seal to testify to its authenticity. No one seeing this plaque would question the authority of Lin Tse-Hsu.

“I understand and will obey, my most beloved Majesty Emperor,” replied the special emissary, a shiver running down his spine. Family extermination was the most severe capital punishment, in which the entire families of those who committed crimes against the kingdom or the emperor were beheaded in public to show there was no tolerance for treason. Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu knew without a shadow of a doubt that the emperor intended to rid his beloved Celestial Kingdom of opium once and for all.

Now in Canton, Special Emissary Lin was seeing for himself how everything and everyone in the trade were connected and who the worst offenders were. Public outrage against the trade had begun to grow; opium was ruining the beautiful city of Canton and giving it—and its inhabitants—a bad reputation throughout the Celestial Kingdom. The honest magistrates attempted to discourage smugglers, and some of their efforts met with success. Many of the small-time opium parlor owners and dealers were arrested and charged, but the major players continued importing and selling their wares unchecked, relieved that their rather large investment in protection was paying off.

When Emissary Lin read the final report, he had no trouble working out how the opium was smuggled into Canton—by way of Lintin Island and the floating warehouses; which officials took bribes to let it through—almost all of them; and how the drug was divided among the local dealers and parlors. Conspicuously missing was the identity of the man who acted as the local clearinghouse for pricing and distributing the largest shipments when they arrived in Canton.

“This report is inconclusive,” he snapped. “How can you not know the identity of the largest dealer when you have obtained every tiny detail about everything else?”

“Honorable Big Guan,” replied Chief Investigator Cheng, “we have our suspicions, but we are afraid to dig deeper without your permission.”

Lin tossed the report to the table in disgust. “My permission? Why do you need my permission to do the job I assigned you?”

“My lord,” Cheng replied, cold sweat forming on his forehead, “all our evidence points to someone whom we are afraid to offend, especially if we are wrong. So we must ask your permission before we proceed.”

“And who is this suspect?”

“Lord Guan,” Cheng hesitated. “It is…Lord Guan Magistrate Lee Man Ho’s son, Lee Shao Lin.”

Lin stared at the investigator. “Impossible! Are you sure?”

Cheng nodded miserably. “We have followed the movements of opium shipments from the largest foreign devil taipan, the man they call the Iron-Headed Rat—William Jardine.”

“Why is he called that, Chief Inspector?” interrupted Lin.

“The story is he was hit on the head by a local but completely ignored the incident as if it had never happened, Lord,” Cheng explained. “Once the opium gets past the corrupt customs officers who are taking bribes from the foreign devils—and by that I mean all the customs officers—we traced it to where it’s warehoused before being distributed to local dealers. All evidence points to a group of dealers who work for a tea and silk company owned by Lord Lee Shao Lin. If this is true, then Lord Lee is the biggest opium dealer in Canton and using his tea and silk store as a front.”

Special Emissary Lin sighed and shook his head. Level One Guan Lee Man Ho was a powerful man in Peking who had served the emperor with loyalty and honor for over twenty years. If Lee Shao Lin was the opium kingpin in Canton, it would be nearly impossible to exempt him from family extermination, which would include his venerable father, and that troubled Lin deeply. Lesser offenders were strangled using a specially designed apparatus, but their families were spared. All executions were carried out in public as a warning to anyone involved or considering involvement in illegal activities. The shame of it was indelible.

Emissary Lin pondered for a few seconds before coming to his decision. “I am under the order of our Celestial Emperor to investigate and eliminate our opium problem. If Lee Shao Lin is the biggest dealer in Canton, then I have no choice but to arrest and punish him to set an example. No one is above the law, no matter how august his background and connections. If we do not prosecute him, we disobey our beloved emperor.” He glared at Cheng. “But before we take any action, I need absolute, ironclad proof that he is guilty. So get me that proof—and get it now.”

“Understood and will obey, Lord Magistrate!” Cheng said.

Inspector Cheng was an honest man, hand-picked by Special Emissary Lin. The emissary had saved Cheng’s life when he was falsely accused by a corrupt guan who was himself under investigation. Emissary Lin presented irrefutable evidence against the guan and had him executed instead. To repay this debt, Cheng pledged his loyalty to Lin and followed him to Canton to help solve the opium problem. Cheng knew that Level One Guan Lee Man Ho was a righteous man who had earned the trust of the emperor and the friendship of Emissary Lin; he also knew that if he was right about Lee Shao Lin, it would create a very difficult situation for the special emissary. But he had pledged his service to the emperor and the Celestial Kingdom, and he would do his job.

Lee Shao Lin was relieved to set foot in Canton again after the chaos of Macau. He had heard some troublesome rumors about this imperial special emissary who was supposed to be in Canton already, and he wanted to make sure that the opium in his warehouse had not been affected by the typhoon. Ordinarily, he never visited the opium warehouse during the day; that was a job for trusted—and well-compensated—employees, but he had just taken delivery of five hundred chests of high-grade product, and he needed to know they were safe. Anyway, it was getting dark, and it was unlikely that anyone would notice him, even though he was still wearing his official guan regalia.

When his sedan chair reached the warehouse, his bodyguards checked the area before signaling that it was safe for him to emerge. The warehouse had sustained some damage, but nothing serious; more important, the opium chests were dry and intact. The chests would have to be relocated so repairs could be done, he decided. The last thing he needed was a curious worker sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He left the warehouse and ordered his sedan chair carriers to take him home, without noticing Chief Inspector Cheng, who took careful notes on the time and circumstances in which Lord Lee Shao Lin, in his uniform as a guan, visited a warehouse filled with opium.

“I cannot leave anything up to chance—too much is at stake,” Cheng muttered to himself as he followed his next suspect.

Owner of a chain of opium parlors in Canton, Chu Ting—the father of Chu Sing, who had introduced Lee Da Ping to the Flower Lantern—had purchased the title of guan for himself and bought all his product from his good friend Lee Shao Lin, who sold nothing but the highest grade of William Jardine’s opium. Chu Ting’s name was very high on Inspector Cheng’s list of suspects to be arrested when Special Emissary Lin was ready to make his move. Cheng had stayed up till dawn the previous night planning the best way to collect and present incontrovertible evidence of Lord Lee Shao Lin’s opium operation to the special emissary, and now he was ready.

Having followed Chu Ting for several weeks, Inspector Cheng knew that he liked to frequent the Flower Lantern. His favorite was Little Spring, who could satisfy him in ways his concubines could not. Chu Ting, like many wealthy Chinese men, had an appetite for novel and unconventional sex, and Little Spring was well trained and more than happy to provide some very exciting services, at a premium price, of course. Chu Ting—and many others—were eager to pay whatever she asked.

Inspector Cheng had visited the Flower Lantern earlier that evening and sat down with Little Spring. He showed her his credentials before she could even loosen her robe. “One word out of you about who I am and what I’m doing here, and I will make sure you’re locked up for so many years in a hard-labor camp that your good looks will be ruined forever. Now can we talk?”

Little Spring had dealt with tough officials before and thought she knew how to handle them. “Of course, Lord Cheng! I am at your service and will do anything you desire.” She winked and leaned forward, letting her breasts brush against the opening of her silk robe.

Cheng stood up and slapped her across the face in disgust. She maintained her composure, as she had been trained. This one must like it rough. “My dear Lord Cheng, I am happy to accommodate you, as long as you take care not to hurt me too badly. And taking your pleasure of me in this way will cost you a hundred taels of silver.” She grinned coquettishly, amazed at her own brashness for charging such a fortune, and braced herself for a session of very rough sex.

“You filthy, despicable woman,” growled Cheng. “I am here on official business, so listen to me carefully.”

Little Spring’s face, pink from the slap, turned pale. “I am at your service, Lord Chief Inspector,” she said quietly, cursing internally.

Chu Ting’s accountant had informed him that the first moon of the New Year had been the best month yet for his opium business, so he decided to celebrate with a visit to the Flower Lantern. When he discovered that Little Spring was available, he couldn’t believe his luck. This will be a night to remember!

“Dear Lord Chu!” Little Spring smiled. “I’m so honored to see you again this evening. May I interest you in something a little different, something we’ve never tried before?”

“What haven’t we tried, Little Spring?” Chu Ting licked his lips.

“Well, I could ask another sister to join us, and we could play Two Overflowing Hot Springs. Would that please you, my lord?”

“I don’t know that one, but it sounds quite enchanting!” Chu Ting’s imagination ran away with him like an unbroken colt, and he could feel his body responding.

“Please excuse me, Lord Chu, for just one moment. I know any one of my sisters would clamor for the opportunity to let her Golden Gate overflow all over your magnificent Jade Stalk.”

As soon as Little Spring closed the door, Chu Ting shed his clothes and began the ritual of preparing the opium pipe. He had brought his own paste, the finest available. Regular clients of the Flower Lantern who smoked kept their own pipes and paraphernalia there, just as the men who preferred fine liquors maintained a collection of spirits to share with their favorite ladies. But before he could even light the lamp, Special Emissary Lin and Inspector Cheng barged into the room with two guards bearing weapons.

“What is the meaning of this, you fools?” he barked. “Don’t you know who I am?” He scrambled to get back into his clothes.

“We know precisely who you are, and that is why we are here, Lord Chu,” said Cheng, holding up the plaque. “Now kneel in front of the emperor’s special emissary.”

This can’t be happening, Chu Ting thought. I pay for protection! He earnestly hoped it was a scheme Little Spring had cooked up to extort money from him. “All right, all right, name your price, and you shall have it.” He would make her pay for betraying him like this.

“Our price, Lord Chu, is your head,” said Cheng. “And there is nothing you can do to save it. Now kneel! Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu represents His Majesty the Celestial Emperor; and by order of His Celestial Majesty, you are hereby condemned to death for your involvement in the wicked opium trade that is destroying our Celestial Empire.” Cheng took great pride in his words. “You and your entire family will be executed in public by sundown tomorrow.”

Chu Ting could feel his own heart hammering in his chest. This was no extortion scheme. He had heard rumors of an incorruptible special emissary sent by the emperor, but this emissary was not expected to arrive in Canton for a few months. He hung his head. Tears dripped from his eyes as he finished dressing and knelt. “Lord Guan Special Emissary, I will give up all my belongings if you can find it in your heart to spare me and my family. I am worth over five million taels of silver, and the Celestial Empire can have it all. Please, I beg of you, spare our lives!”

“Do you believe the emissary is interested in your dirty blood money?” Cheng snapped as an impassive Lin looked on. “Prepare yourself for the next life, in which you will no doubt return as the running dog you are.”

Chu Ting broke down as the gravity of his situation sank in.

“My parents, my wives, my siblings, and especially my two sons, Lord Emissary. Will you spare at least their lives if you cannot spare mine? Opium parlors are everywhere in Canton—I am not the only one guilty of this crime!”

Special Emissary Lin spoke for the first time. “You bring shame to our Celestial Empire, just like all the other dirty guans who profit from this filthy drug. Do you not see what is happening to our beloved empire? Have you no shame?”

“Oh, Lord Emissary, I know it is a foul drug, but if we wish to trade with the foreign devils, we must buy their opium, and we have to pay for it with the silver they give us for our other goods. I know this business has gone too far, and the foreign devils are exploiting our Celestial Empire for their own gain. Lord Magistrate, things are out of control! I, like everyone else, got swept up in the business because the money is so good. I know I will not be forgiven for my crimes, but I beg of you, tell me what I can do to save the lives of my family!” Too late for me, Chu Ting realized, scrambling for whatever deal he could make.

“We will stop this epidemic,” pronounced Special Emissary Lin, “by rooting out the supply source and those involved in spreading opium all over our Celestial Empire. If you wish to save the lives of your family, then you must confess the identity of your supplier. That is our first and final offer. It is your only hope.”

“Do you give your word that you will spare my family, especially my two sons?” Chu Ting asked meekly, eyes fixed on the floor.

“How dare you question me!” Lin shouted. “I will order the execution of your entire family right now.”

“NO! My lord, no!” Chu Ting began to cough, his mouth dry. Nothing else will do, he decided. I must save my family. “My supplier is Lord Lee Shao Lin, son of Level One Guan Lee Man Ho.”

“How dare you implicate a most noble family of our Celestial Empire!” Inspector Cheng roared, inwardly elated that Chu Ting had spit out Lee’s name.

“I swear to you on my ancestors’ names,” wheezed Chu Ting. “It is Lord Lee Shao Lin, and no other, who is my supplier.”

Special Emissary Lin gave Chu Ting’s kneeling form a long, calculating look. Bending down, he grasped the man’s chin and lifted his face toward his own. “You dare to make such an accusation without proof?”

“Proof, proof—yes, I can prove it! I can prove it,” babbled Chu Ting, beyond all dignity now.

“And how will you do this, you miserable worm?”

“I will bring you to him, and he will tell you himself. That is, if he doesn’t know who you really are.”

“And why would he tell me anything?”

“Lord Emissary, I will bring you to him and tell him you are a new buyer I am working with.”

“And you believe this will work? Remember, your family’s lives depend on the quality of your deception,” said Lin.

“Yes, my Lord Emissary, I do. He is very careful not to meet anyone he doesn’t know, but he is also a good friend, and he will meet with you if I bring you because he trusts me. Please spare my family, Lord!”

“I will decide about your family after I have the confession of Lord Lee Shao Lin,” the special emissary replied. “Your fate, however, is sealed.”

Little Spring gasped, then covered her mouth. She had heard the entire exchange through the thin wooden wall of the barge. She, too, had heard the rumors about the emperor putting an end to the opium trade by any means necessary and knew that the most severe punishment would be meted out to Lee Shao Lin’s family, which included her new regular, Da Ping.

Little Spring had become very fond of the young man in the month since she’d relieved him of his virginity. He was so innocent and easy to please, and he always brought her expensive gifts when he visited, which was as often as three times a week. Da Ping had taken to sex and opium with equal gusto, and he couldn’t get enough of Little Spring. He had even ordered a custom-built opium bed for Little Spring’s barge. Da Ping’s father was unaware of his son’s nascent addiction, but he handed over as much money as Da Ping asked for, assuming that he was using it to foster the connections he would need as a man in charge of the largest opium business in Canton.

What can I do? Little Spring racked her brain. Da Ping is a sweet child, and if his father is exposed, he and his whole family will be executed! There was no way to warn him; if the special emissary discovered that she had anything to do with the escape of his quarry, Lee Shao Lin, he would make her pay. I cannot go to a labor camp, she thought, desperate for ideas. Hard work? No opium? Da Ping is good and kind, but he cannot protect me.

“Big Brother Chu, how are you?” Shao Lin entered the reception area of the tea and silk store to greet Chu Ting and his companion. “Tell me, who is your friend?”

Chu Ting had wasted no time in setting up the meeting between Lee Shao Lin and Special Emissary Lin. The very next morning, he brought the emissary to Lee’s shop.

“Lord Lee, may I introduce my colleague, Lord Ding? He is visiting from Fujian province and is the largest supplier of ‘medicine’ there. He buys from the foreign devil Dent, but he is dissatisfied with the recent quality of his shipments. I thought I would introduce you, since I am quite satisfied with the product you provide, and I know you don’t have many outlets in Fujian.”

Shao Lin, still tired and aching from the ordeal in Macau and eager to move those five hundred chests, ignored the quiet voice in the back of his mind warning him to act with caution.

“How grateful I am that you bring a new customer to me!” He smiled at Chu Ting and his colleague. “Any friend of Brother Chu is welcome here.”

Special Emissary Lin replied, “It is my honor indeed to meet you, Lord Lee. Lord Chu has spoken so highly of you and your excellent product from the Iron-Headed Rat taipan. The quality of his medicine is superior to all others.”

“Indeed,” Shao Lin laughed out loud. “Iron-Headed Rat only brings in the finest quality. How many chests are you thinking of acquiring for your market in Fujian?”

“Three hundred at this time, Lord Lee. And if it moves quickly, you can expect another order for at least three hundred more.”

“Well,” said Shao Lin, “you are in luck! I just took delivery of five hundred chests of the best medicine you can buy, all grown and produced in Malwa.”

“Might I request the favor of a sample before we discuss prices?”

“Of course, Lord Ding. I will arrange for my men to take you to the warehouse whenever you please so you can inspect my product for yourself. I guarantee that you will not be disappointed. And when you’re ready to place an order, they will be happy to accommodate you.”

“Lord Lee,” said Lin, “I hope you understand that I only deal with principals and not underlings. I am one of the biggest distributors in Fujian, and I could be a very big customer for you. Lord Chu assures me that you are a man who can be trusted, so I would prefer to deal directly with you, and you alone.”

The warning voice in his head was louder than usual, but Shao Lin’s leg was causing him a lot of pain, and after all, it was Chu Ting who had brought him this customer, and Chu Ting would never dare betray him because it would mean exposing himself.

“Very well, then. Let’s have some tea, and then we’ll go to the warehouse.”

Inspector Cheng had asked General Kwan Tien Pui at Fu-Moon to send him one hundred elite Special Forces soldiers to help him in his investigation and make arrests when necessary. They had arrived the day before, under the command of Vice General Lo Ping. Inspector Cheng knew he couldn’t trust any of the local authorities, who were most likely on the payroll of at least one opium dealer, but General Kwan was a loyal military man who hated opium smuggling. Cheng planted twenty soldiers near the warehouse he’d seen Lee Shao Lin visit when he returned from Macau; he was counting on Special Emissary Lin to lure him back there so he could be arrested.

“Just over here, Lord Ding, are five hundred chests of the finest quality cakes waiting to be shipped,” said Shao Lin as they entered with Chu Ting.

“I hope you will allow me to open a chest to test the quality.”

“Of course.” Shao Lin gestured to one of his men to open the nearest mango wood chest and remove one of the forty cakes nestled inside. The round cakes were about eight inches in diameter and weighed four pounds. Hardened shells of dried poppy petals, stems, and leaves protected the opium paste inside. The man cracked open the shell with a knife and displayed its contents.

Special Emissary Lin brought the half cake to his nose and inhaled the distinctive scent of opium. Lee Shao Lin was caught red-handed in his own warehouse trying to sell five hundred chests of high-grade opium to the imperial emissary.

“Forgive me, Lord Lee, I had no choice—I did it to save my family!” Chu Ting cried out.

Shao Lin turned sharply. “What are you saying, Brother Chu?”

“What he is saying, Lord Lee Shao Lin, is that you are under arrest for the crime against our Celestial Empire of distributing opium, a poison that is killing your own people!” Special Emissary spoke loudly so that Inspector Cheng could hear him clearly.

The door burst open, and Vice General Lo Ping and his twenty soldiers charged in and surrounded Shao Lin and his men. Inspector Cheng followed, holding the imperial plaque that bore Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu’s name.

“You are the special emissary?” Shao Lin gasped.

“No, I am,” Special Emissary Lin replied as two soldiers forced Shao Lin to his knees.

Shao Lin, dizzy with fear, collapsed into the arms of the men who held him.

Chapter Eleven

To The Most Noble and Honorable Guan Magistrate Lee Man Ho,

I am writing to you, dear colleague and friend, with extreme sadness and a heavy heart. Having been honored by His Majesty, our Celestial Emperor, with the duty of special emissary in charge of eradicating our kingdom of the opium epidemic, I have been here in Canton for the past few months conducting a thorough investigation of the situation. The results of my investigation have shocked and saddened me to the core because I have seen firsthand the evil ways in which this drug has poisoned our beloved homeland. This poison has penetrated deep into our society, afflicting not only the addicts but also the honor of many of our guans and merchants. The temptation of staggering profits has entrapped many in this vile business.

As special emissary representing our Celestial Emperor, it is my duty to root out and punish the most serious offenders behind the opium epidemic and make examples of them to strike fear into the hearts of anyone else who might be tempted to engage in this filthy trade.

It is with deep regret and my heartfelt sympathy that I give you notice that I have arrested your son, Lord Lee Shao Lin. You are our most loyal and dedicated level one guan, and I am certain that you were not aware of your son’s business. He is, without a doubt, the largest opium dealer in the city of Canton. The evidence I have is irrefutable. I have seen for myself his warehouse, containing over five hundred chests of opium, and your son, in person, attempted to sell this opium to me when I posed as a dealer from Fujian. I believe you know the consequences of his crime.

I have prepared my report to our Celestial Emperor, and as a courtesy to you, my dear friend and colleague, I am sending this letter at the same time so that you will be informed simultaneously and may have the opportunity to respond in your own way.

Your humble and regretful friend,

Lin Tse-Hsu

My dearest colleague and most loyal friend,

I cannot find the words to express my deep appreciation for your kind gesture. I bury my head in shame to learn the truth about my son. I decry his evil deeds, and I take full responsibility as the dishonorable father who failed to raise a respectable and law-abiding man. There is no excuse for my failure—I should have known about his criminal endeavors but chose to look the other way. I fully recognize and accept the consequences of my son’s evil crime and deeply appreciate your noble gift of an opportunity for me to choose my own response.

I am forever indebted to you for sparing me this public humiliation, and I bid you farewell with sincere gratitude.

Your most humble and shameful villain,

Lee Man Ho

An Imperial Court messenger arrived in Canton by way of a succession of swift horses thirteen days after the letters from the special emissary reached Peking. His orders from the Celestial Emperor were to make the following announcement in public:

The most honorable, loyal, and dedicated Imperial Court Officer, Level One Guan Magistrate Lee Man Ho, died of a broken heart upon the instant of hearing the news of his son’s arrest as Canton’s most prominent and evil drug dealer. Magistrate Lee was stationed in Peking for thirty years as our most loyal and dedicated imperial guan, and my imperial edict is that by fulfilling his duties to our Celestial Empire, he had no choice but to sacrifice his duties as a father. As such, Magistrate Lee Man Ho will be buried in Peking with full honors as a loyal guan, and his son will face the extreme consequences of an evil drug dealer. Let it be known to all that Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu is authorized to sweep Canton clean of opium by any actions that he deems fit.

END OF IMPERIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Level One Guan Lee Man Ho took his own life with poison within two hours of reading Special Emissary Lin’s letter. By doing so, he avoided putting the emperor in the awkward position of having to consider sparing his life, which would have led to accusations of favoritism from other guans. He also wanted to avoid the shame of a public execution in case the emperor chose not to spare him. His wife, Shao Lin’s mother, had died two years earlier, and Lee Man Ho felt immense relief that she was spared the humiliation of a public execution after being the noble wife of a senior imperial magistrate for all those years. She would have taken her own life as well—it was the honorable thing.

Twelve days before the imperial announcement arrived in Canton, Special Emissary Lin summoned Chief Inspector Cheng to his quarters. “We make our sweep tomorrow, starting with the customs officers and owners of the opium parlors. Make preparations for public executions for all of them. The opium epidemic stops now.”

“Yes, Lord Guan, understood and will obey.” Chief Inspector Cheng paused. “What do we do with Chu Ting’s family, and when do we execute the family of Lee Shao Lin?”

“We will spare the lives of Chu Ting’s family, but his sons will be castrated in front of their father before he is executed. There shall be no descendants of these opium-selling scum. We will execute Lee Shao Lin’s family as soon as we locate his son and daughter.”

“Understood and will obey.”

Special Emissary Lin knew he had to take extreme measures to deal with the opium problem to send a clear message to everyone involved. It was his duty to terrify and shame the people of Canton, and he was prepared to do just that by imposing the most severe punishment to the worst offenders, as authorized by the emperor. He also knew he needed to deal with the smugglers to stop the supply. Perhaps, he thought, witnessing the cold-blooded actions authorized by the emperor against his own people will make the foreign devils reconsider their business dealings here.

Chapter Twelve

“Little Spring, where have you been?”

“Just getting some air, Hau Ma Ma!” Little Spring replied gaily as she entered the lounge behind the main hall. She glanced around. Other women were resting between customers on long benches around the room. On quiet nights during the rainy season, there was usually a lively game of mahjong happening, but this was not one of those nights.

“Well, get back to work. Your young customer, Lord Lee Da Ping, is waiting for you in his private barge! Mustn’t let him sit idle, or he might find another favorite!”

What is he doing here? Little Spring moved as quickly as she could while still maintaining the languorous, graceful gait of a Flower Lantern girl. Very few people knew of Da Ping’s private barge, and Hau Ma Ma’s livelihood depended on her discretion. She wanted to warn him, tell him to run far away from Canton as fast as he could, but she knew he would return home to warn his father—who was already doomed—and get himself arrested and executed. Never mind the trouble she would catch from that Inspector Cheng if he found out.

I can give him one fantastic night to remember, she decided. For the rest of his life, which will not be long.

“My Lord Da Ping, what a most pleasant surprise!” she said, sliding open the barge door. “You know, you have caught me in a most peculiar mood this evening.” She winked.

“Really?” Da Ping’s smile widened in anticipation. “I hope it is an amorous mood, Little Spring. What game shall we play tonight?”

“You shall see, my handsome lord.” She thought for a few seconds. What would keep him there, safe from arrest, overnight so she could come up with a plan to get him out of danger? “I know—let’s play Three Hungry White Tigresses Feasting on Crouching Dragon.”

“Th—three? Tigresses?” Da Ping stuttered, the blood rushing to his groin.

“Yes, my lord. I’ll be right back with two beautiful tigresses, and you, my dear Lord Da Ping, will be treated to an evening of pure bliss that few men ever experience. We are going to drain your Jade Stalk of all its seeds tonight, young master—we are hungry and must be fed!” She gave a little growl and stepped daintily out of the barge again.

Within moments Little Spring returned with two of her more lively and beautiful colleagues. She had had to offer them a generous share of her fee, but it would all be worth it if she could keep Da Ping occupied—or passed out—for as long as possible.

Da Ping took a few long drags from his opium pipe and lay back, allowing the three beautiful naked women to caress his entire body with their eager lips and tongues. Little Spring gave Da Ping her best efforts that night, all while frantically thinking of ways that she could help him escape the death sentence that was about to fall on his entire family.

After Da Ping’s Jade Stalk had been repeatedly drained of its dragon seed and his opium pipe emptied and refilled, he lapsed into blissful unconsciousness. Little Spring locked the barge to keep him safe and headed to the kitchen to order some food for the little fugitive to enjoy when he awoke. Her two colleagues left with her, totally exhausted.

“There you are, Little Spring!” It was Hau Ma Ma again. “Vice General Lo Ping is here and asking for you.”

“I’m not working any more tonight, Hau Ma Ma,” said Little Spring. “I need to rest!”

“Vice General Lo is in a particularly good mood tonight, my dear, and he simply won’t hear of taking another girl. He was involved in a very important arrest, he tells me.”

Little Spring sighed. “Yes, Hau Ma Ma. Please bring Vice General Lo to his preferred barge—the one without the opium bed. I must bathe and dress. I’ll be there in a moment.” He was one of her favorite customers, always kind and generous—and very loyal—and it wouldn’t be wise to refuse him.

Vice General Lo Ping, fresh from the arrest of the biggest opium dealer in the city, wanted a fitting end for this triumphant day, and that meant spending a few hours with the delightful Little Spring before returning to Fu-Moon the next morning. Every leave Vice General Lo Ping earned he spent in Canton visiting his mother, and he always made time to see Little Spring. But Special Emissary Lin had ordered him back to Fu-Moon the next day to inform General Kwan, personally and confidentially, about his plan to embargo all foreign ships attempting to enter Canton by way of the Pearl River. The defenses at the mouth of the river would need to be put on alert just in case the foreign captains started any trouble. Emissary Lin had also instructed Lo Ping to bring back more troops to help him mop up the rest of the opium dealers in Canton.

“Little Spring!” Lo Ping stood to greet her when she slid open the barge door. “I was a happy man before, but you’re about to make me the happiest man in Canton.”

“Lord Vice General, I am honored by your company,” said Little Spring. “I did not expect you back in Canton so soon!”

“My dear Little Spring, I was called here on an important police matter. My troops and I just helped arrest the biggest opium dealer in Canton! We will finally get rid of this poison that’s killing our people, by arresting and killing all these evil men who sell it. I only wish we could kill the foreign devils who bring it into our Celestial Empire.” He cleared his throat. “But enough about business. I’m here to celebrate!”

“Well, let’s celebrate together, Lord Vice General,” Little Spring purred. “I am sure you were masterful in leading your men to take down these criminals. But you strong military men only want to talk about killing—what about loving? Are you sure you’re ready for some serious loving?” She moved closer to him, discreetly loosening her gown. “Now, please tell me, my lord, how long may I enjoy your company before you return to Fu-Moon?”

“I leave tomorrow, but I’ll be back within the week,” he replied, “and I’ll be staying in Canton for as long as I’m needed by the senior magistrate.” He hesitated for a second, but his pride got the better of his judgment. “I think you will be surprised by some major developments very soon. The streets of Canton will shortly be free of opium!”

Little Spring hid her momentary panic. I’d better stock up in case this actually comes to pass.

An idea came to her suddenly as she was reaching for the vice general’s clothing. “Lord Vice General Lo,” she said with a warm smile. “I had planned to tell you that I was regrettably unavailable this evening, and I was going to introduce one of my lovely sisters for your enjoyment—”

“But I only want you!” Lo interrupted.

“I know, I know! And I changed my mind as soon as I saw you because I remembered how well you can satisfy me—like no other! And now that I see how happy you are and how much you want to celebrate,” she licked her lips, “I can’t wait another moment to savor your Jade Stalk.” She smiled again, seeing his arousal. “Oh, Lord Lo, I am so excited thinking about what we can do this evening to make your celebration very special.”

Lo Ping’s face grew hot with desire.

“Are you familiar with Three Hungry White Tigresses Feasting on Crouching Dragon?” She couldn’t believe she was uttering these words, offering the same session she had just finished with Da Ping, but she knew it would work to accomplish her goal.

“Three?” Lo Ping raised three fingers, grinning like a schoolboy who’d just been told he could eat all the sweets he wanted.

“Yes, three, Lord Vice General—two of my ravenous sister tigresses, who have heard me speak of your prowess many times, and me!” Little Spring raised three of her own fingers and licked each one slowly. She ran her hand over her breasts and then down toward her Golden Gate. “I guarantee, Lord Lo, that you will never be the same after tonight.”

Lo Ping chuckled. “Then let’s get started!” He rubbed his hands together and thanked the stars that this already fortuitous day was going to have such a happy ending.

“But I need you to promise me one thing, Lord Vice General, before I unleash the Three White Tigresses.” Little Spring glanced up at him through her lashes as she helped him out of his tunic.

“Anything, my beautiful tigress!”

“I have a recruit for you to bring back to Fu-Moon. He is a young man who really wants to serve under the famous General Kwan Tien Pui, but he doesn’t have the family connections. You, my Lord Vice General with the magnificent Jade Stalk,” she paused to stroke it gently, “could take him with you to join your troops, couldn’t you?” She giggled.

“I am the vice general—I can do anything I want.” He pulled himself free of his remaining clothes and reached for her. “Can we talk about this later?”

“This young man is very special to me, Vice General, and I want you to train him up to be a good soldier. He is all alone in this world and needs your help, so please say yes. The three tigresses will show you how very grateful we are.”

Vice General Lo Ping had recruited many soldiers, and he knew it was a tremendous honor for a poor family to have a son serve in the military, especially under an important general, rather than starve at home on the farm. Who is this boy to her? he wondered idly, but his mind was on the evening’s activities and not on Little Spring’s possible motives.

“All right, if you send him to me first thing tomorrow, I’ll bring him with me to Fu-Moon and get him into training. We’ll need more men to deal with these foreign devils anyway, in case they make trouble. Do you know his family?”

“He has no family, my lord. He’s an orphan.” That will be the truth soon enough. “He has no other prospects for his future, and I would like to do him this favor. And you are such a good and honorable man, I thought of you right away as the perfect person to ask.”

Vice General Lo Ping had been a customer of the Flower Lantern for several years, and Little Spring had become something of a friend to him, a welcome respite from the harshness of military life.

“Very well, Little Spring. You know I can’t refuse you anything! Now, where are these hungry tigresses you keep speaking of?”

Little Spring’s assistant tigresses were very happy with their bonuses at the end of the night, and Vice General Lo Ping had a permanent grin on his face.

“I won’t be able to walk for a week now—how am I going to ride to Fu-Moon in the morning?” he asked when her sisters had departed and she lay next to him on the bed.

“Oh, Lord Vice General, it is I who will be unable to walk for a week after your Jade Stalk attacked my Golden Gate with a thousand thrusts. My poor sisters could hardly stagger out of here, and I’m sure they’ll be instantly asleep after so much vigorous lovemaking, my strong and virile lord! Why don’t you spend the night here as my guest? I will have breakfast prepared for you before you leave on your journey, and your newest recruit will be ready to accompany you to Fu-Moon.”

“Oh yes, the recruit. Bring him to me in the morning, and I’ll make a man out of him!” Lo Ping yawned.

“I’m sure you will, Lord Vice General, but can you also teach him to be strong with a woman, as you are? I’ll be counting the days until I have you in my bed again.” Little Spring knew all the right lines and the right times to use them.

Lo Ping nodded off to the sweet sound of her voice. His dreams were filled with sinuous tigresses rolling around with him on a field of silken grass.

Little Spring entered Da Ping’s barge before dawn, carrying a bundle of clothes she’d bought from one of the cooks. It wouldn’t do for Da Ping to appear before the vice general dressed as a lord’s son. So, Da Ping, I’ve found a way to save your life, but the man who will be your new boss just arrested your father. By the way, your entire family—including you, if you’re caught—are about to be beheaded. She shook her head. It wouldn’t be easy to convince him, but then again, Da Ping’s choice was a simple one: death or the army.

“NO! No! You lie—that is impossible!” Da Ping sank to his knees and started to cry when he heard the news, which Little Spring did not bother to break gently.

Better he learns the worst as soon as possible, she thought, watching the young man, now a boy on the floor weeping copiously into his fists.

“Who dares to condemn the son of a level one guan, one of our emperor’s favorites?” he asked when he could catch his breath.

“The opium problem is getting out of hand, young Master Lee,” Little Spring replied. “Millions of people are addicted these days, thanks to the foreign smugglers, and our Celestial Emperor has ordered Special Emissary Lin to eradicate opium from the empire. No one selling the drug is to be spared, not even your father.” She paused, thinking. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us when the opium is all gone.” Little Spring, like so many, didn’t consider herself an addict. She had quit the drug many times, only to come crawling back when the symptoms hit: nausea, muscle cramps, depression, excruciating headaches, and a feeling of agitation. Her livelihood relied on her charming personality and physical agility, and those disappeared during withdrawal. She had only taken up the drug to make servicing her less-appealing customers more tolerable, and now, ironically, she couldn’t function without it. Opium was next to impossible to live without once a person had a taste, and so easy to get if one had money. She reminded herself again to buy as much as she could afford, and soon, just in case this emissary was successful in his mission.

Da Ping drew her attention back to the immediate problem facing them. “What am I going to do? I don’t want to die! I’m only thirteen!” He began to cry again.

“Quiet now, Lord Lee. I am very fond of you, and I’ve found a way for you to escape death, but you’re not going to like it.”

Da Ping looked up. “You can save us? How?”

“There is nothing I can do to save your family, but you might be spared. Listen carefully,” Little Spring said. “I have a…friend. His name is Vice General Lo Ping. He is stationed at Fu-Moon, and he has agreed to recruit you and bring you there today to serve under General Kwan Tien Pui. You should be honored—General Kwan is famous.”

“I don’t care about any general, and I don’t want to go to Fu-Moon, and you can’t make me!” snarled Da Ping, reverting to the spoiled rich boy.

Little Spring turned her back on him, exasperated. “We don’t have much time, young Master Lee.” She faced him again. “Vice General Lo will be up in a few hours, and he has agreed to take you with him to Fu-Moon, but only if you go now. You go or you die—your choice, my little lord.”

Da Ping stood and ran his hands through his long hair. “Little Spring, you goose, I think you’ve forgotten who my family is! All we have to do is simply pay off this special emissary, and everything can go back to normal.”

“I am losing patience with you, Master Lee.” Little Spring was exhausted from her very busy night, and she needed a little drag from the pipe to smooth things out, but she didn’t dare until Vice General Lo and Da Ping were safely on their way. “You don’t seem to understand that your life is at stake here. If there was any way for your father to bribe his way out of this predicament, don’t you think he would have done it? He is going to die, and you right along with him, probably within a day or two, if you don’t go to Fu-Moon with Vice General Lo right now! Now grow up and act like a man!”

Da Ping had enjoyed nothing but entitlement and comfort until that morning; but he knew when someone was being honest with him. Just then, Little Spring reminded him of his beloved sister when she would get angry with him for not listening to her, even though he knew she was right.

“All right, all right, I believe you, and I know you’re trying to save my life. How do I do this?”

“You must be careful not to give Vice General Lo Ping any hint as to your true identity, or he’ll arrest you,” said Little Spring. She could feel her muscles relaxing in relief. Finally, he is making sense! “You will keep your mouth shut during the journey to Fu-Moon, and when you join the garrison, you will work hard and learn to be a good soldier. Forget about your old life. You are the orphan of a poor farmer now, and this is your only hope!”

“But I don’t want to be a soldier!” Da Ping’s true nature flared up again.

Little Spring lost her patience and slapped him hard across the face. “Idiot child! You need to grow up. If you can’t handle this plan, then you will die. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Da Ping knew, with a sinking finality, that things would never be the same. In his entire life, no one had ever dared to strike him. But that life was over. Even if he escaped execution, Lee Da Ping, Number One Son of Lord Lee Shao Lin, was dead.

“Can I at least see my parents and sister before I leave?” he asked, his voice quavering.

“No, Master Lee,” Little Spring replied gently. “Your parents are already in custody and waiting for their execution.”

Da Ping began to sob again but caught himself and stopped. “Even my sister Su-Mei—will they execute her also?”

“The sentence is for your entire family. If she hasn’t been arrested yet, she surely will be.”

“My life is over then!”

“Yes, it is, brave boy, but you will start a new life.” Little Spring stroked his arm.

“As a poor soldier, though!”

“Yes, as a hardworking soldier. It will be a good change for you.” Little Spring gave him a small smile. “My brothers went into the army so they could eat regular meals and not burden my parents. I was sold to Hau Ma Ma because women are not allowed to be soldiers.”

Da Ping forced himself to accept his new fate. Life as he knew it was over, and now it was time to grow up and stay alive.

Just as Vice General Lo Ping was finishing the excellent breakfast Little Spring had ordered for him, he heard a knock at the barge door.

Little Spring slipped in, followed by a cowering, chubby youth with an unattractive birthmark at his right temple. “Vice General, I hope the meager breakfast and hard bed were not too unpleasant for you. May I present Ming Ming, the young man I told you about?” She elbowed Da Ping in the ribs, and he knelt before the vice general and prostrated himself three times on the polished teak floor of the barge, as Little Spring had instructed.

“Ming Ming, is it? Consider yourself very lucky that my dear friend Little Spring has recommended you. I will make you into a valiant and useful soldier for General Kwan, and you will serve our Celestial Empire honorably.”

“Yes, Vice General Lo. It is my honor to serve you and General Kwan and our beloved emperor,” said Da Ping with as much bravery and conviction as he could manage. I am Ming Ming now. I am a recruit and nothing more.

“Little Spring, it has been a great pleasure, as always,” said the vice general. “But now I must leave you. The evil drug lord Lee Shao Lin and his family await their sentence, but the emissary still must find his son and daughter. Then he can pull up this wretched family by its roots and show that the emperor is serious about ridding our Celestial Kingdom of the foreign devils’ poison.”

Da Ping tried to keep the joy off his face. Su-Mei had not been arrested! Honorable Father must have left her in Macau, he thought. The emissary will never find her there if she can only stay put and keep quiet.

Chapter Thirteen

Macau, early 1839

Eight days of English and Chinese. Eight days of spending hours with the Englishman, Mr. Higgins, and they had flown by like moments.

“Honorable Father will be here to take us back to Canton tomorrow, Pai Chu,” said Su-Mei. “I will miss Macau, though—I’ve learned so much here! I feel as though I’ve become a different person.”

“Yes, and I see how much you’ve enjoyed teaching Chinese to the foreign devil who almost killed me,” replied Pai Chu. She had been simmering with anger ever since Su-Mei agreed to that ridiculous plan to give Mr. Higgins language lessons. He had arrived at the church promptly every day for his lessons, although he appeared to be teaching Su-Mei far more English than she was teaching him Chinese, which seemed to suit Su-Mei just fine.

Pai Chu’s wound had healed, and she was able to keep down soft, bland foods, but her stomach always hurt afterward, and she began to suspect that her condition would never improve. The English healer had warned her about the spasms that would cause projectile vomiting; but she hadn’t really understood that these would come on without warning and cause tremendous pain, not to mention acute shame and disgust. Mother Amanda gave her special dispensation to eat all her meals in the privacy of her own room instead of the convent refectory, and that was just one more thing she could blame on Mr. Higgins: the loss of Su-Mei’s company for an hour or more every day. She lost her former vitality and grew pale and thin.

“Oh, Pai Chu, you know it was an accident! Mr. Higgins never meant to harm you—or me. You must forgive him, as a Christian—isn’t that right?” Su-Mei sighed, her attention quickly turning from her friend. “He has excellent manners for a foreigner, doesn’t he? And he’s so bright!”

“Su-Mei, you cannot trust a foreign devil,” said Pai Chu wearily. “He will take what he wants and then leave you, just like that beast did to my mother.”

“I think this one is different.” Su-Mei refused to see any similarity between her situation and that of Pai Chu’s mother. She had noticed how attentive Higgins was to her. He didn’t bother concealing the fact that he adored her. Su-Mei had never been the object of anyone’s affection; not even her own family had demonstrated any love for her, except for Da Ping, so she enjoyed the attentions of this young Englishman. When she grew accustomed to his sunburned pink skin and pale hair and big nose, she even began to find him attractive. What she did not find attractive was Pai Chu’s open hostility and jealousy. Why can’t she see that I’m happy? Su-Mei wondered every time Pai Chu said or did something rude to Mr. Higgins or made mean comments about him when they were alone.

“I’m just glad we’re finally leaving so we can do the Lord’s work in Canton,” said Pai Chu with a sigh. “Then you can forget about this foreign devil and concentrate on our mission. Your English has improved so much! Honorable Father will be very impressed.”

Su-Mei missed Pai Chu’s response because she had just spotted a familiar figure entering the church courtyard.

“Here he comes!” She leaped from her seat outside the church doors.

“Ni hao ma,” Higgins said with a courtly bow. Every time he saw Miss Lee, his heart began to pound in his chest. Her lovely wide eyes and straight brows, the sweet pale-red tint of her lips achieved without the benefit of any paint. Today she wore a tunic that resembled a man’s dressing gown, wrapped and tied on the side, all pale blue silk with the most delicate white embroidery. Small beads from an ornament in her soot-black hair dangled just to the side of her left eye, and a looped braid on the opposite side grazed her shoulder. She was as enchanting as any portrait, and she was right there, smiling just for him.

“I am fine, and yoo? Iz a goot day,” replied Su-Mei in English.

“It is indeed, Miss Lee, a very fine day.” He repeated himself in Chinese. “Tianchi zhen hao.”

Su-Mei giggled. “Today lass lesson?”

“Yes, Miss Lee,” said Higgins, looking sad. “I should very much like to pay you or the church for more lessons, however, as my ship is not quite ready to sail back to Canton.” He looked to Pai Chu, who grumpily translated this for Su-Mei.

“I onnahed, but my fuchin—my fada—come take back Canton too mollow. So no moor lesson.”

“Oh, I am sorry about that. Duibuchi! Perhaps we may meet again in Canton?” Higgins was thrilled to be speaking with Miss Lee in English, even with some help from her companion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a pleasant conversation with a lady, even at home. The young ladies of his acquaintance all seemed so silly and affected, and certainly no lady as lovely as Miss Lee had ever given Travers Higgins a second glance.

Su-Mei giggled and blushed a charming shade of pink. “It woll be my plash—plass—” She looked helplessly at Pai Chu.

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” recited Pai Chu tonelessly. She added, “However, Mr. Higgins, I fear that would not be possible, as Miss Lee will be very busy with family matters once she returns. I’m sure you understand.” She gave him the coldest look she dared.

Su-Mei’s English had improved dramatically in the eight days of conversation with Higgins, and Pai Chu found her translation skills needed less and less, which only fueled her anger. It was so obvious that this foreign devil was pursuing Su-Mei, and worse yet, Su-Mei seemed to be enjoying it. Why can’t she see him for what he is? Heavenly Father, help her to see this devil for what he is and curb her foolish attraction, she prayed.

Su-Mei caught the intention of Pai Chu’s statement and felt a brief flash of irritation. Of course, Honorable Father would make it difficult, but she was certain that, with Pai Chu’s assistance, she would be able to find an excuse to see Mr. Higgins again. Wasn’t he somehow involved with Honorable Father’s business? This couldn’t possibly be their last meeting!

Higgins was thoroughly in love with Su-Mei already and dreaming of declaring his intentions. He didn’t like to think about the difficulties such a marriage would impose. Was it even legal for an English subject to wed a Chinese lady? A young man full of optimism and energy, Higgins was confident that he could make such a relationship work despite all the challenges, if only Miss Su-Mei Lee shared his feelings. Her lovely smiles and downcast glances over the past few days gave him some hope that she did and made him ever more determined to find a way to see more of her.

The next morning, Su-Mei and Pai Chu packed their belongings and waited for Lord Lee Shao Lin and his entourage to arrive to escort them back to Canton. By evening, with no message sent about his delay, Su-Mei began to worry, although she secretly hoped that her father had postponed the trip because of his business, which would give her more time in Macau and another chance to see Mr. Higgins.

Three days passed, with no word from her father. Su-Mei worried in earnest. Higgins continued to visit her daily in the church courtyard, and only this diversion kept her mind off her father’s whereabouts. She confessed her concerns to Mr. Higgins, who could see that she was not her usual gay self.

“Please don’t worry, Miss Lee. Your father is a very important man; I expect something has come up with his business.” Higgins cleared his throat, which was unexpectedly dry. “Miss Lee, do you think you would like to visit my home in England one day? I should very much like to introduce you to my parents.” He ignored the gasp from Pai Chu.

“I tink my fada say no,” said Su-Mei sadly. “Engand so fah.”

“Would he object if you were to move far away to be with your husband?” Pai Chu glared at him. Higgins ignored her, his heart pounding.

“My hussben? What dis mean?”

Pai Chu pursed her lips until both Su-Mei and Higgins stared at her. She finally spat out the word in Chinese, like a rotten plum.

Su-Mei gasped. Does he really mean what I think he means? She chose her words carefully. “Onnabul Fada no choose zhangfu who live so fah.”

“But what if you were to choose your own zhangfu? Would it matter very much where he lived? Do you wish to live near your family?” Higgins’s heart sank a little bit.

Su-Mei shook her head and refused to look at Higgins. “Not can happen. In China woman no choose.”

“My dear Miss Lee, the past ten days have been the happiest of my life, and it’s because of you.” Higgins reached across the space between them and took her hand in his. “Miss Lee, I earnestly love you and hold you in the highest esteem. Please, if you are able to do me this kindness, let me know that my feelings are not in vain.”

Bewildered and flushed, Su-Mei looked to Pai Chu. Gritting her teeth, she translated his words. Su-Mei continued to look confused. “For heaven’s sake, Su-Mei, he is expressing his love for you, and he wants to know if you feel the same.” She snorted.

“Oh!” Su-Mei stared into Higgins’s bright blue eyes. She saw love there and a little bit of fear. Nothing in her life had prepared her for a man declaring his love in this way. A Chinese man would certainly never do that. Marriages were arranged by families, often before the couple even met. Love was something that came later, if it came at all, and it was a matter of little importance between a man and his wife. Duty came first—that was what her mother had taught her, usually followed by a muttered comment that no respectable husband would have a wife with such ugly feet anyway.

“Miss Lee, it was never my intention to cause you discomfort! Please, you need say nothing now. It is enough that you know my feelings. M-may I continue to visit you?”

Su-Mei smiled back. She didn’t understand all his words, but the meaning was clear. She left her hand in his and even squeezed his fingers gently. “Yes, peeze. Sank yoo.”

“If your father comes tomorrow, I should like to meet with him.”

“No, Meesta Heegans, I tink not good idee.” Su-Mei withdrew her hand, and her face went pale. “Onnabul Fada not like I speak with Engis man so—” She mimed the close space between them.

“All the same, I should like to express my intentions. I want your fuchin, Lord Lee, to know that I am an honorable man with a promising career and that I would do everything in my power to make you happy.”

Su-Mei burst into tears. Pai Chu fumed silently at the insolence of this foreign devil. How dare he touch her pretty little hand! And even think about mentioning marriage in her presence! It was unimaginable. I must put a stop to this, she thought. Poor Su-Mei is too ashamed to tell him to go away. “Miss Lee is feeling unwell,” she informed Mr. Higgins. “She must go inside and rest now. Good day, sir.”

“Sister Su-Mei, Sister Maria, a word, please.” Mother Amanda’s face was white with shock. Her chest heaved as she tried to take a breath. “I have bad news.”

Su-Mei wasn’t sure she could take any more news of any kind after Mr. Higgins’s declaration. The surprise of it had put her father’s absence completely out of her mind, at least. “What is it, Mother Amanda?”

“Oh, Sister Su-Mei, I just heard from one of Master Jardine’s men who arrived in Macau this morning. He said your father has been arrested, and he and your whole family are to be executed for high treason against the empire!”

Su-Mei blinked hard as she stared at Mother Amanda, trying to digest the words she’d just heard. It was as if Mother Amanda were speaking English, or something even more incomprehensible.

“They can’t arrest him,” she finally blurted out. “He is the son of a level one guan magistrate!”

“Master Jardine’s man said that an imperial special emissary from Peking with special powers is in Canton to rid the Celestial Empire of opium, and it is he who has arrested your father.”

“And put him to death? But why? I don’t understand!”

“Sister Su-Mei, your entire family is to be put to death. And this emissary and his men are looking for you!”

Su-Mei began to sob. “Is my brother Da Ping arrested also? And my grandfather—what of him? Surely they can’t execute him! He is a powerful man in Peking. How can this be happening?” The room spun around her, and she grabbed for the nearest support, which happened to be Pai Chu.

“Sister Su-Mei, I don’t know the answers,” said Mother Amanda, with tears in her eyes. “But you are safe here for now in this house of God, and we will find out more soon.”

This doesn’t make any sense, Su-Mei thought. Honorable Father may have been dealing with the opium traders, but so is half of Canton! Will this emissary execute the entire city? “I have to return to Canton and see what I can do,” she said. “I can’t hide here while my family waits for a death sentence. Or I could go to Peking and speak with Honorable Grandfather. He could intercede with the emperor.” Her thoughts were racing.

Mother Amanda put her hands on Su-Mei’s shoulders. “My child, it is unwise to make decisions when you have just suffered a shock. Why don’t we wait a few days and see what news comes from Canton? God will show us the way to proceed.”

“Can God stop my family’s execution, Mother Amanda? Will he hear my prayers?” Su-Mei asked, her face bathed with tears.

“Oh, my child, I cannot say.”

Mother Amanda suggested that Pai Chu sleep in Su-Mei’s room that night to calm her nerves and keep her company, and she was delighted to comply.

“God will protect you, Su-Mei, because you are kind and you have renounced your sins before him,” she said. “But I don’t know what will happen to the rest of your family. You must be patient, my dear friend. God’s will be done.” Pai Chu crossed herself. Su-Mei’s pain was her pain, and she would have given anything to comfort her.

“Maybe God is punishing Honorable Father for his sins,” Su-Mei said. “But if God is forgiving, and God is love, then why won’t God forgive Honorable Father and let him live to repent?”

“Su-Mei, there may be a greater purpose that we cannot know. Remember, God works in mysterious ways that we can never understand.”

“Will you pray with me, Pai Chu? I need God’s guidance more now than ever.”

“Of course, my dearest,” said Pai Chu, kneeling beside her. She grasped Su-Mei’s hand, the very same one that the foreign devil had touched without permission, and began to recite the rosary. When she finished, she added a special prayer to Mother Mary to protect Su-Mei and keep her from harm.

Mother Amanda knocked gently at Su-Mei’s door. “The English gentleman is here to see you, Sister Su-Mei.” Su-Mei started awake. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, and here it was already nine o’clock in the morning.

“Please tell Master Higgins that Su-Mei is unwell and unable to see him,” Pai Chu replied before Su-Mei had a chance to speak.

At three o’clock that afternoon, Su-Mei happened to see Higgins still waiting outside the convent doors. The flowers in his hands were beginning to wilt. She hurried to the doors and stepped outside.

“Meesta Heegans, I so solly. I not talk this day.”

“Miss Lee, it is of no consequence. I only wanted to make sure I didn’t upset you with the things I said yesterday.”

Su-Mei’s heart felt like it was made of wood. Not even the prospect of Mr. Higgins’s love for her could lift her mood. “Oh, sir, I have give so bad news from Canton.”

“Miss Lee, I am so sorry!” Higgins exclaimed. “Is it your family? Is anyone ill?”

Su-Mei could see how worried Higgins was, and she was also a tiny bit flattered that he had waited for her all day in front of the convent. I can trust this man; I don’t care what Pai Chu says. But how to tell him in English?

“Onnabul Fada, he—men take him. He do bad things.”

Higgins struggled to understand. “What? Do you mean he is in trouble with the magistrate?”

“I not know word. Fada, Mada, all fami-ee—kiu.”

“You are saying that your entire family is dead!? That can’t be what you mean!” Higgins, without thinking, reached out a hand to take her arm.

Su-Mei responded miserably. “Soon they be Zhixing,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t know that word.

“Miss Lee! How can I help?” Higgins said, not understanding. “Perhaps Mr. Jardine’s men can help since your father is a business associate. Please allow me to send a message at once! Mr. Jardine is en route to England, but I’m sure someone in his offices can do something.”

“No, no!” said Su-Mei. “It becoz fada and Engish bisis. Because of yapian! What Engish sell!”

Higgins paled. “Miss Lee, I don’t know what to say! Please, if there is anything at all I may do for you—I came to tell you that my ship sails tomorrow for Canton, and then to England when the winds favor our return in a few months. I wanted to let you know before I left, so you wouldn’t think that I no longer wished to see you—after I…” He faltered into silence.

Su-Mei had stopped listening after two important words. “You go Canton? Tomo—after day? I can come?”

“Miss Lee, I would have to ask permission from the captain. It would be most irregular to take on a passenger, but these are extraordinary circumstances.” Mixed in with his concern was a tiny beacon of joy. Was this the first step toward journeying to England as man and wife?

“Pleeze! I need go Canton, see my fami-ee before…” she trailed off.

“I will speak to the captain, explain your urgent need, and I’ll be back as soon as I can!” He thrust the wilted flowers, forgotten until now, into her hands. “Good day, Miss Lee! I shall not fail you!”

Su-Mei watched him race out of the courtyard, the bouquet of tropical blooms crushed to her chest.

“They will arrest you too if you go to Canton,” Pai Chu informed her grimly. “And then you’ll be executed right alongside your parents and brother! I cannot let you do this! What were you thinking?” And why did you agree to go with that foreign devil—alone? “In any event, Mother Amanda will never permit it,” she said flatly. “You can’t go to another city with a strange man and no chaperone.”

“I must go, Pai Chu! I have to try. I can’t just hide in a convent and wait for the news that my family is dead.” Su-Mei thought she’d cried all her tears, but more began to fall.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Pai Chu said. “But we can’t tell Mother Amanda.”

“No, I won’t drag you into this, Pai Chu. It will cause you trouble with Mother Amanda, and you’re still not well enough to travel. Besides, Master Higgins needs to ask permission from his captain, and he may not be able to take two passengers.”

“I think it’s a terrible idea for you to go to Canton, but if I can’t stop you, then I am going with you, and that’s all there is to say. A lady like you must not travel alone, and you will need my help with the foreign sailors.” Pai Chu shuddered at the thought of sharing a ship with hundreds of the rapist devils, but she would do it for Su-Mei.

“Oh, thank you, dearest sister! You are very kind to think of me. But I cannot take you with me. It isn’t safe for you. If I’m arrested, they may take you too, and you are part of our family now.”

Nothing will stop me from following you to Canton, Pai Chu swore to herself. “All right then, Su-Mei,” she said aloud. “But promise me you’ll be careful.” She paused and looked away shyly. “You know how much I love you.”

“Oh, Pai Chu, I love you too! I’m so glad that we became friends, and now we’re sisters! If I escape the death sentence, I hope that we can continue doing God’s work together.”

Pai Chu felt a pang of frustration. Su-Mei didn’t understand. Pai Chu wasn’t sure she understood it herself, but her love for Su-Mei exceeded the love of friends, or even of sisters. We could live together, the stubborn thought arose, and I could take care of her better than any horrible foreign devil. He can’t love her—he can’t even understand her. Why can’t she see that? “Yes, my sister, I hope so too. Just remember that I will always be here to help you, whatever you need. And I will pray that you return safely to me.”

Su-Mei wrapped her arms around her friend in gratitude, but her mind was on Mr. Higgins. When will he return?

“Mr. Johnstone, I need your help,” pleaded Higgins. “Lord Lee, your Uncle William’s largest customer, has been arrested in Canton. His daughter, Miss Su-Mei Lee, is urgently requesting passage with us to try to help her family.” Johnstone frowned. “If we can help her,” continued Higgins, “it will go over well with her family and your uncle after the events at the Dragon Inn. This will blow over, like everything else does here, and we’ll want Lord Lee to be indebted to us when it does.”

Chapter Fourteen

Canton, early 1839

Special Emissary Lin paced in front of the kneeling hong merchants he’d summoned. “Shame on you all! You are letting this foreign poison ruin our beloved Celestial Empire,” he lectured. “I know most of you are only interested in legitimate export of our products to this faraway land, but you know very well that the British barbarians use opium as currency, so even if you’re not dealing in opium directly, you are complicit in what it is doing to our empire.”

“Honorable Big Lord Guan,” Howqua, the leading hong merchant said, “we are only interested in glorifying our empire by selling our excellent wares to these barbarian lands—”

“You dare patronize me with this nonsense?” Lin interrupted. “You have never, not once, turned away a foreign ship carrying opium, even though you are supposed to vouch for all vessels entering our kingdom. You allow these barbarians to use your factories for opium trading instead of whatever legitimate business they claim to be conducting. You accept bonds for our own silver—used to purchase opium—in exchange for your tea and silk. Please, Lord Howqua,” Lin glared down at the hapless merchant, “explain to me how you are glorifying our beloved empire with these practices!”

“Honorable Big Lord Guan, we are unwilling victims of the opium trade!” protested Howqua.

“And are you also unwilling victims when you collect the profits from dealing with these barbarians, knowing opium drives the entire business?”

There was silence in the room.

“And where is this taipan they call the Iron-Headed Rat, Lee Shao Lin’s supplier? I want him arrested immediately!”

“He is on his way back to his home country, never to return, Lord Emissary,” ventured one of the merchants.

Lin was secretly a little relieved to hear this. He wanted to punish the most notorious smuggler to send a message to the others, but he was unsure what the response from the barbarian kingdom would be if he executed one of their most prominent citizens. “Well, that is unfortunate,” he snapped. “Chief Inspector Cheng, you will please read the edicts aloud now.”

“Edict Number One,” read Cheng, “to be delivered to your British trading partners. All foreigners are to surrender any opium aboard any ship in Chinese waters, and they are to agree in writing that no further opium is to be shipped to China.

“Edict Number Two, to the attention of all hong merchants. You are all complicit in every aspect of the opium trade: You have provided boats to carry opium ashore and floating warehouses to store it; you have used Lintin Island to hide the ships anchored offshore; and you have committed money laundering by moving precious silver out of the Celestial Empire, even providing special standardized boxes for transport.

“You have acted as traitors to the Celestial Empire, and if you do not arrange for all your foreign trading partners to surrender their opium within three days, the special emissary will commence executions. You all know that Special Emissary Lin has conducted a long and thorough investigation of the opium trade in Canton, and furthermore, you know that the emperor has personally tasked him with halting opium imports to the Celestial Empire. Leave here now and act accordingly.”

The terrified hong merchants delivered the edicts to the Western smugglers in Canton that day. To prevent them from running off to Macau and ignoring his edicts, Special Emissary Lin forbade all foreigners to leave Canton until they were in compliance and posted guards to prevent anyone from leaving. The following day, forty foreigners held a meeting at one of the factories to discuss how they would respond—naturally, no one was eager to surrender any opium. Among them were James Matheson and Lancelot Dent, the second-largest smuggler after Jardine and Matheson. After a lengthy discussion, they wrote a message to the special emissary requesting six days to consider their response.

With fear in their hearts, the hong merchants delivered this message to Special Emissary Lin. They survived the encounter but returned to the factories the following day with chains around their necks, the emissary’s reply to the foreigners.

“It’s simple, gentlemen, really,” said Matheson. “We hand the bugger a few chests to think we’ve been chastened, and then when this rout dies down, it’s back to business as usual. What do you reckon, a thousand chests, split among us?”

But Special Emissary Lin knew precisely how many ships were anchored off Lintin Island, loaded down with tens of thousands of chests. “These foreign devils think I am a fool,” he muttered. “Inspector Cheng, take your soldiers and block all access to the factories. Hire some builders and erect high brick walls around every one. I don’t want the foreign devils to even be able to see out!”

“Lord Emissary, it will be done just as you say,” said Cheng. “But the foreigners are holed up inside—do you mean to trap them inside the compounds?”

“Yes!” roared Lin. “That is exactly what I intend. Their servants will abandon them, and the barbarians will starve. My sources tell me they have no stockpiles of food or water. They will have their six days and more! Then we can reopen the topic of surrendering the opium.”

Captain Charles Elliot of the British Royal Navy was appointed chief superintendent of trade in 1836, responsible for all British ships and subjects in China. Since most trade was conducted among British merchants, smugglers, and local hongs without supervision, there was little need for an official chief superintendent to protect anyone’s interests. He kept himself out of everyone’s way, stayed in Macau most of the time, and let the money roll in to English coffers—until Special Emissary Lin made his move.

At last, after he received word of what was happening in Canton, Chief Superintendent Charles Elliot found himself with something to do. He arrived in Canton on the announced arrival date of the special emissary, by which time his countrymen had been barricaded in the compounds. His first move was to sail up the river to the factories on a boat flying British colors with a platoon of uniformed marines, hoping the Chinese would realize that an attack on his boat could be interpreted as an act of war. He was, after all, a naval officer representing the Crown in China.

Once inside the British factory, he ran the British flag up the pole, thereby declaring the compound British sovereign territory. His presence, for the first time, was welcomed by the smugglers; they suspected the special emissary would hesitate to provoke a confrontation with a senior British officer. And so began the siege at the factories at Canton, after decades of uneventful opium trading.

It was a few days before Special Emissary Lin made his next move. “Inspector Cheng!”

Cheng had just settled down to eat his dinner at a low table in Special Emissary Lin’s temporary headquarters. He had been hard at work since dawn. With a sigh, he set down his bowl. “Yes, my lord?”

“You will have a sign painted, the length of a man on all sides. Make the characters big enough so that everyone can read the message and translate it to the barbarians. The message should read as follows: ‘I, Special Imperial Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu, would prefer to solve this impasse without resorting to force. My demands are simple: All foreigners must surrender all their illegal opium to me to be destroyed and agree to bring no more of it into China ever again.’”

“Understood, Lord Emissary, and will comply!” Cheng gulped his tea and sped out the door, wondering where to find a sign painter at this late hour.

Charles Elliot swore heartily when he learned what was written on the large sign erected outside the compound. This special emissary was serious, and he wasn’t going to give in until the traders gave up their opium.

“I will simply tell the traders to surrender their cargo to me personally, not the special emissary,” he informed his master attendant. “The opium will thus become the property of the British government. I will then hand it over to this special emissary, and he will save face with his emperor. The traders may demand reimbursement from the Crown at whatever rate they choose, and so they will not be out of pocket. And, of course, any man who refuses to surrender his opium will not have government protection and so be at the mercy of this damned emissary.” He knew all the traders wanted, after profits, was for the crisis to end so they could flee to Macau and enjoy Western comforts at Eastern prices.

Elliot consequently took possession of more than twenty thousand chests of opium, equaling more than one thousand five hundred tons, from dozens of ships and massive floating warehouses. It took Special Emissary Lin over two months to prepare for its destruction and another three weeks to actually destroy it. He didn’t want to burn the chests, so he had three large, shallow holes dug and filled with water. Platforms were built around the holes where workers could break up the cakes and throw them into the water. Lime and salt were added to help the opium dissolve, and the water was drained into a creek that led to the sea. Special Emissary Lin reported to the Celestial Emperor that every speck of opium in Canton had been destroyed and that the British had agreed in writing to cease shipping the drug to their beloved Celestial Empire. And that, he thought, is the end of the matter.

All the foreigners in Canton, even Matheson and Dent, signed the pledge that they would no longer trade in opium to appease the special emissary so they could get out of Canton. None of them had the slightest intention of honoring it. Matheson and other traders already expected the government would threaten to go to war with China over this seizure of property and the interruption of trade. He moved forward with his plans for the following season’s shipment of opium to China—this was likely to be a temporary setback, if it amounted to anything at all. They were all happy to retreat to their luxurious homes in Macau, while Elliot stayed at the factories with a small contingent of marines to send a message of British resolve.

Elliot wrote to the foreign secretary, Henry John Temple, Third Viscount Palmerston, in Parliament to report the incident. He claimed that the Chinese had confiscated two and a half million pounds sterling of the Crown’s property. He knew that England would never agree to absorb the cost of the confiscated property, and he was counting on Lord Palmerston to demand restitution from Peking, by force if necessary. He went so far as to write to India asking for warships stationed there to be on alert for potential action with China. The traders must be repaid, he surmised, or the China trade will suffer. Demand for Oriental goods remained high; wealthy British families craved the latest porcelain and silk, not to mention tea. How these goods arrived on their shores was immaterial, but there would be hell to pay if they didn’t, or if the prices were to climb.

Elliot took a long view of his office. His goal was to change the way business was conducted in China; as it stood, the Chinese held all the cards. More ports of entry must be opened, and the Chinese must buy more British products. Never mind that the Chinese wanted nothing from England except for a few timepieces; the markets must be found. Britain was not to be trifled with, and it was high time the Chinese realized that. If necessary, Elliot felt entirely justified in bringing in the might of the world’s strongest navy to maintain the channels of trade. All he needed to do was convince Parliament.

The buggers have brought this epidemic on themselves by demanding silver for their tea and refusing to buy anything other than opium, he thought crossly. He chuckled to himself. The emperor and that bastard of a special emissary were probably still celebrating the successful eradication of opium in Canton and the pledge from all foreign traders to stop smuggling it in. Daft yellow monkeys don’t know who they’re dealing with.

February 25, 1841

At first light General Kwan Tien Pui, commander of the Guangdong Province water force, stood at the walls of Fu-Moon Fort and peered through his telescope at the mouth of the Pearl River, where his enemy was poised to attack. He gave a long, weary sigh as he studied the Nemesis, a giant facing the best of his fleet: wooden junks with small cannons, nowhere near as powerful or accurate as the British guns. Alongside the Nemesis was an armada of more conventional—but no less intimidating—warships. The general had never seen such a formidable collection of ships. Even from this distance, he could see the caliber of their cannons. The battle would begin at any moment, and any one of the British ships was a match for Kwan’s entire force. The outcome would be inevitable and devastating.

He gathered his troops and spoke from his heart. “Men,” he shouted, “you are not blind. You can see that our enemy, positioned to attack at any time, have weapons beyond anything we have ever seen or even imagined. These big ships have the power of foreign materials and engineering, but you must never forget that we possess a power far more noble and precious, and that is love of our Celestial Empire. Gunpowder and steel are no match for it. I pledge to you today that I will fight our enemy to the end! It is our fate, live or die, to shove these foreigners off our shores so they poison our land with their drug no longer. Are you with me?”

Every man present knew they were outmanned, and their ships and armaments were inferior, but they were the superior soldiers, if only because they were prepared to die rather than surrender to a foreign invader. They prayed that the deities would grant them a better life next time around in return for a hero’s death.

Chapter Fifteen

Macau, early 1839

“You’re telling me a Chinese woman is requesting passage with us to Canton?” said Captain Robertson in disbelief. “How do you know this woman, sir? And is she aware of the trouble there?”

“Sir, I heard from Mr. Matheson’s men that he and some others were trapped in Canton,” replied Johnstone before Higgins could open his mouth. “But I heard everything was resolved after they surrendered their merchandise to the chief superintendent. As for the lady, she is the daughter of Lee Shao Lin, my uncle’s most important customer.”

“And she needs to be in Canton on urgent family business,” Higgins added. “She has no other transportation available.”

“If she’s the daughter of a mandarin, why can’t she hire her own bloody boat to get to Canton?” asked Robertson.

“Captain, her family is wealthy, but she has no money. She was expecting her father to come and bring her home.”

“Right. Unfortunate situation, that.”

“He’s been arrested, which is why she needs to get there to be with her family. And as Mr. Johnstone said, her father is Mr. Jardine’s best customer, so we ought to help if we can.” Higgins was careful to keep his personal feelings about Miss Lee hidden. If the captain suspected this was merely an affair of the heart, he would never allow it.

“Well,” said Robertson, “it’s my understanding that we will not be able to enter the Bogue, so she’ll have to find her own ride to Canton from there. Things are still in a bit of a mess, and it’s our duty to offer assistance to our own countrymen.” He glanced away from the two men. “Very well, Mr. Johnstone, Mr. Higgins, we leave at first light. Have the lady aboard before then.”

“Thank you, Captain, sir. With your permission, I’d like to take her into Canton myself to make sure she arrives safely,” Higgins said.

“As you wish, so long as it doesn’t keep you from your duties.”

After Higgins delivered the good news, Su-Mei was filled with relief and also trepidation. The special emissary’s men would be looking for her in Canton, and she would face execution with her family if they found her. But the idea of hiding here and waiting for the news that her parents and siblings were dead was intolerable. She needed to do something, and whatever that was, it would have to take place in Canton.

Mingled with her fear and excitement was a bitter resentment of this special emissary’s tactics. Yes, her father was an opium dealer, but so were many wealthy guans. Yes, it was right to punish him for his crimes, but she would have expected, because of her grandfather’s status in Peking, that his sentence would be mild. She tried hard to think of any allies who would be willing to help her family, but because her father had always sheltered her from his business and the outside world, she knew she wouldn’t get very far with that.

Poor Da Ping, he is just a child, and he’s done nothing wrong, she thought. And poor Mother, Second and Third Mothers, and their children—they’ve done nothing to deserve public beheading. This is not right!

Pai Chu broke into her thoughts, repeating the same plea. “Why won’t you let me go with you, Su-Mei? I can protect and help you in Canton—you know you can count on me to do anything for you.”

“I know, Pai Chu, but you’re still not well, and it’s too risky,” said Su-Mei. “I’d hate it if anything happened to you—you’ve been through so much already! Mr. Higgins will be with me, so you don’t have to worry. I will be protected.”

“But how can he protect you? He’s a foreign devil, and he doesn’t even speak Chinese! Don’t you think you will stand out more in the company of a bumbling Englishman? Please be reasonable, Su-Mei, and don’t let this foreign devil endanger your life just because you believe his romantic lies.”

Su-Mei tried to keep her face neutral. “Pai Chu, the only way I can get to Canton is on Mr. Higgins’s ship. He went to a lot of trouble to get permission for me to go; I doubt he will be allowed to bring another passenger. Besides, Mother Amanda will be very upset if you leave.”

Pai Chu could tell that Su-Mei was not going to change her mind, and she hated Higgins even more for taking Su-Mei with him and having the opportunity she craved to spend more time with her, to protect her and win her love. He will take advantage of her, just like that devil did with my mother, she thought. I will follow her to Canton to protect her from these animals, as God is my witness! Then she’ll understand that we should be together always, and she needs no horrible foreign man.

An hour before dawn, Su-Mei said her goodbyes to a bitter Pai Chu and sneaked out of the convent to meet Mr. Higgins, who was waiting out of sight as planned. Mother Amanda, on her way to lauds, watched her leave through a window. She was not surprised by her departure. “God bless this young woman and give her strength and wisdom,” she prayed. “May she find peace and safety in your grace among these turbulent times.”

Every sailor she passed doffed his cap as Su-Mei boarded the Scaleby Castle, her hand resting gently on the arm of Mr. Higgins, the way foreign men walked with their women. Even the captain, in his bright uniform coat, welcomed her aboard and expressed his concern for her family. She thought it was strange that people who didn’t even know her family were so polite to her. These so-called barbarians had shown her nothing but respect and didn’t seem to be such bad people, after all. They were the only ones willing to help her, and she felt enormous gratitude to Mr. Higgins and his captain.

Higgins made sure she was seated comfortably in an armchair in the captain’s cabin before he left to perform his duties. “If you need anything at all, Miss Lee, please step outside and ask the first sailor you see to call for me. Just say my name; any man will know where to find me.”

Su-Mei nodded uncertainly. Of all the English words she’d ever heard, the hardest to pronounce were Higgins’s two names. Every time she tried to remember the order of the consonants, they slipped away from her like wriggly fish.

It was an uneventful journey, in which Higgins visited her several times, once bringing with him a mug of cool water and an English delicacy consisting of some bread with an oily substance spread on it. As the Scaleby Castle dropped anchor outside the Bogue, the delta leading to Canton, Su-Mei suddenly experienced true fear for the first time. She had enjoyed a life of luxury and insulation, had even managed to avoid both foot binding and an arranged marriage, and now she faced the impossible task of saving herself and her family from execution, on her own.

“Please, God,” she prayed aloud, “give me guidance and help me save my family. I promise I will convince them to renounce their sins and join me in the one true faith, and I will dedicate the rest of my life to spreading the word to other sinners.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Excuse me, Miss Lee,” Higgins called through the door.

She hurried to open it and momentarily forgot everything at the sight of his reassuring smile and kind eyes.

“We are dropping anchor now, but we cannot bring you into Canton because there’s some trouble there. I will take you myself just as soon as I can hire a boat.”

Higgins led Su-Mei to where they could be lowered into a chop boat. Maybe it was out of desperation, but Su-Mei took this to be a sign that God had heard her prayer. I must make sure Mr. Higgins understands the whole situation, she thought. I cannot let him walk into such danger unawares.

“I am—” She didn’t know the word in English, so she simply showed Higgins her shaking hands.

“Oh, my dear, I understand that you’re frightened. And I will do whatever I can to help you. I have permission from the captain and Mr. Johnstone to assist you and your family in any way possible because of Mr. Jardine’s relationship with your father.”

She shook her head. “All fami-ee to be kiu—” she began.

“Yes,” Higgins interrupted eagerly, still not understanding. “Please, Miss Lee, don’t upset yourself. I will help you help your family.”

“No!” She tried again. “Mada, sista, budder, ever one, and I—kiu too. All kiu, pay for bad Fada do.”

Higgins paled. “I don’t understand, Miss Lee. This is impossible. Are you saying your entire family will be killed for crimes that your father is accused of?”

“China way. All fami-ee bad man kiu.” She made a sweeping motion across her neck.

Higgins scratched his head in disbelief. How can this be? How bloody brutal and uncivilized! “My dear, if your life is in danger, I cannot possibly allow you to go to Canton! What if you’re seen and arrested? I wish you had told me before I agreed to find you passage here.”

“I must!” She burst into tears. “Pleeze,” she whispered.

“Miss Lee, I cannot allow this,” said Higgins, with more authority than he felt. “If you go to Canton, you will almost certainly be arrested and condemned with your family. And then you will be no help to them at all, and I will be guilty of sending you to your death.”

Su-Mei shook her head stubbornly. She couldn’t understand his burst of rapid speech, except that he was telling her she couldn’t go to Canton, now that they were so close. I am going, no matter what! With or without him!

“I go,” she said, not looking at him. Inwardly, she was panicking. Where will I go? How can I do this alone? She had never been allowed to set foot in Canton, or even outside their estate, on her own. Through her anger at Higgins, who, she realized, was only concerned for her safety, she discovered some strange, new feelings for this man, and possibly those feelings were what he had tried to describe to her in the church courtyard during their last language lesson. I will probably never see him again, she thought mournfully. Even if I can save Honorable Father. She summoned her courage and began looking for a chop boat that would ferry her to the city.

“Wait.” Higgins sounded miserable. “You cannot go alone. If you must risk your life to find your family, then I am going to go with you.”

Relief flooded her body. “Oh, sank yoo so many, Meesta Heegan!” she said shyly. Glancing up at him, she thought she could detect a hint of those courtyard emotions on his face again, mingled with some very justified fear.

It was twelve miles from the Bogue to Canton, and there were no chop boats waiting for passengers as would normally be the case since the trouble began. The passengers were supposed to have the right papers; but most chop boat operators were willing to take anyone for the right price.

Higgins had changed out of his uniform and into a Chinese worker’s clothes. He wore a round black cap with a false queue attached to it because all Chinese men were required by law to wear their hair long and plaited into a queue. He and a few of his mates used disguises like this when they sneaked out of the factories in Canton to explore the city. It was three hours before a chop boat arrived, and Higgins had to pay a Spanish silver dollar for passage into Canton. The operator warned Su-Mei about the tension between this special emissary and the foreigners and strongly cautioned her against bringing Higgins with her.

Higgins easily climbed down the ropes at the ship’s side and into the small, covered chop boat. With some help from his shipmates, he lowered Su-Mei in beside him. They hid inside the chop boat until they disembarked at the docks. He wrapped a scarf around the lower part of his face and hid his fair hair under his cap. Su-Mei also covered her face with a scarf, as most women did when it was cold. She was heartily thankful for her unbound feet and the old clothes Pai Chu had given her, which helped her blend in with the crowd.

It was a long walk to the estate. They got lost several times along the way, and Su-Mei wished she’d paid closer attention when she’d accompanied her mother to the Buddhist temple near the docks. She was unaccustomed to traveling such long distances on foot and soon had blisters where her rough cloth slippers rubbed against her heels. Also, she was starved but carried no money with her to buy food. Higgins, noticing the way she sniffed at the food stalls on the street, wordlessly handed her a fistful of coins, which she exchanged for some rice balls and fried squid in a neat bamboo basket. They devoured them standing near the food vendor’s fire, heads low to avoid attention.

As they neared the main gate of her home, Su-Mei spotted soldiers. An official notice stated, in large characters, that the residence had belonged to a criminal opium dealer and was now the property of the empire. Another notice pasted on the masonry walls next to the main gate indicated that there would be an official announcement very soon about the opium dealer Lee Shao Lin. Su-Mei took this to be a good sign. It meant that the execution hadn’t happened yet, so maybe word had come from Peking that the punishment was to be a more lenient one. She closed her eyes and prayed.

Grandfather must have spoken to the emperor and begged for mercy, Su-Mei thought. Aloud she said, “Maybe no kiu. Fada get help.” Please, God, please make it so. I promise I will make my father stop dealing in opium and only do good deeds from now on.

Higgins hoped for Su-Mei’s sake that she was right, but he was a little skeptical. Captain Robertson had mentioned how tough the special emissary had been on the British traders: confiscating twenty thousand chests of opium and putting their factories under siege. We must have a plan in case Su-Mei’s family cannot be spared, he thought. How cruel and barbaric to execute an entire family for crimes committed by one person—I must take Miss Lee out of here and bring her to England.

“Miss Lee,” said Higgins, “it’s getting late, and we need to find a place to sleep for the night. Do you know of a hotel?”

Su-Mei shook her head but pointed the way to the servants’ entrance of her home. Her father had designed it so it wouldn’t be visible from the street and didn’t look as though it was attached to the main house. The soldiers didn’t know it was there, and so it was left unguarded. Su-Mei showed Higgins the lock, which was also designed so that strangers would be unable to find it. She had never needed to open the door before, but Higgins mastered the mechanism in a moment. Inside, she led him through the kitchen and back to the servants’ quarters.

Higgins set about firing up the coals in the cooking pit, but Su-Mei put a hand on his arm and shook her head. She mimed the smoke coming out of the chimney, which would alert the guards to their presence. He noticed a straw pallet in the kitchen—likely where the cook slept—and pointed to it. “I’ll sleep here tonight. You should find a bed in the servants’ quarters.”

For the first time, Su-Mei noticed the straw mattresses and rough blankets the servants used. Accustomed to piles of soft, warm quilts as she was, she knew she would never be able to sleep there. Besides, it was freezing with the fire out.

Without thinking, she headed toward the main house to find warmer bedding and some clean clothes. Higgins stopped her. “You stay here, where it’s safe. There may be a guard posted inside, or some tramps might have sneaked in.”

He was back in a few minutes, empty-handed and rueful. “Oh, my dear Miss Lee, I’m sorry. Everything is gone or smashed to bits.” He rubbed his palms together. “We shall have to make do with what’s here, I’m afraid.”

Su-Mei nodded wordlessly and retreated to the servants’ chamber. Overnight, her life had turned upside down. Kneeling on the hard, cold floor, she reached deep within herself to find strength, and she prayed for guidance, but she was so cold she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so alone in the world.

Su-Mei woke for the third or fourth time that night, shivering. She couldn’t stand it anymore and summoned enough courage to go into the kitchen. Maybe Mr. Higgins is awake too, and we can talk and distract ourselves from the cold.

Higgins was awake, but he pretended to sleep as he heard the door open. He reminded himself that he was a gentleman and would never do or even suggest anything that might be considered unseemly. You are the guardian of this woman’s virtue, he reminded himself.

“Meesta Heegan?” Su-Mei whispered. “I so cold.”

“Oh, my darling girl. Come and sit beside me. Bring your blanket.” Higgins moved to one side of the pallet, and Su-Mei gingerly sat beside him, wrapped in the thin blanket. She had never been so close to a man before, but his warmth was so inviting she couldn’t resist. She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees, and Higgins wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. She inhaled his scent, so strange and yet comforting, and let her cheek rest against his shoulder.

What would Honorable Mother say if she could see me now? Or Pai Chu? Every part of her life at that moment was awkward, strange, and tragic—how could it possibly matter if she spent the night in a man’s arms? Sharing the meager warmth between them, they fell asleep in that position and didn’t wake until the cracks between the kitchen shutters turned gray.

Su-Mei awoke and gently slid out of Higgins’s embrace while he slept. Wrapping the coarse blanket around her, she tiptoed out of the kitchen to see for herself what had become of her childhood home.

As Higgins had said, the house had been ransacked. All the art and decorative pottery, every piece of furniture that a man could carry easily, had been stolen. Anything larger had been hacked open and the contents taken. Cabinet doors delicately inlaid with mother-of-pearl and exotic wood were scattered across the polished floor, now scuffed and dirty from soldiers’ boots. She had to tread carefully to avoid stepping on shards of porcelain. Su-Mei wandered from room to room, feeling like a ghost. All the beautiful things in her home, all her mother’s jewels and silks—not to mention her own—were gone. She cracked a shutter and peered out into the courtyard, where she could see the doors to the concubines’ wing hanging broken from their hinges. The thieves had been there too. She brushed away a few tears, then chided herself for blubbering about silly objects when her family’s lives were at stake. But the fact remained that she and Higgins needed clothing and money, and there was nothing here anymore.

They sneaked out of the house before dawn. Su-Mei bought hot steamed buns with sweet pork inside with the little bit of money Higgins had as soon as the street vendors opened for business.

“My dear Miss Lee—Su-Mei,” Higgins said as they wolfed the buns, “your parents are under guard, and you are a fugitive. I honestly don’t know what we can do to help them. Do you know of anyone we could speak to, someone you trust?”

Su-Mei shook her head. Other than her grandfather, so far away, she didn’t know of a single powerful person who could look into her father’s situation and try to change his sentence. What am I doing here, putting Mr. Higgins in peril? she asked herself, not for the first time. She did know the location of her father’s tea and silk store, however—it was close by, and Shao Lin had taken her and Da Ping there a few times when they were young. It was as good a place as any to hide out while they made a plan and waited for the news promised by the notice on the wall. There might even be something useful in the shop, a list of names of his business associates, anything.

The door to the shop was sealed like that of the family estate, but there was only one soldier standing guard, so it was easy for Su-Mei and Higgins to sneak into the side entrance. The main part of the shop was a spacious hall in which buyers could examine the bolts of silk for sale. At one end was a long counter where customers could relax and sample an array of the finest teas on offer in Canton. Shao Lin made his fortune in opium, but his decoy business had offered excellent wares as well and earned him a decent profit.

Su-Mei led Higgins across the darkened hall and made her way to her father’s private office in the back. It had been ransacked and emptied of anything of value, but Su-Mei knew something the looting soldiers did not. One evening months ago, Da Ping, wanting to brag to his big sister about the important position he would soon have in the family business, had told her of a secret cache of silver their father kept for emergencies. In fact, Da Ping had had several such emergencies during rowdy evenings out with his friends.

The heavy chest with the lacquered lid behind her father’s desk was exactly where Da Ping had told her it would be. It had been smashed open, and the lid had been ripped off its hinges. Su-Mei, with Higgins watching her curiously, reached into the chest and pressed a small hidden panel on the side that Da Ping had told her about. Instantly, the false bottom of the chest slid open to reveal a hole in the floor. Inside the hole was an iron box. Su-Mei flipped the lid of the box open and Higgins gasped. It was filled with stacks of silver taels.

At least we won’t starve now, Su-Mei thought. She looked up at Higgins and smiled. “Silva,” she said matter-of-factly. Higgins nodded, still in shock. By any exchange rate, the silver in the box represented a small fortune.

She lifted out a few taels and tucked them into her waistband. “Buy food, clothes.”

“Su-Mei, is it safe for you to go about in public? If the authorities are looking for you?”

Su-Mei tried to come up with the words to explain that her sheltered existence was finally working in her favor. Almost no one outside of her family and servants had seen Su-Mei and could recognize her as her father’s daughter. Not only that, but her feet were not the feet of a wealthy guan’s daughter. If she was very careful to hide her soft hands and pale, unblemished face in the streets, no one would guess that she was anything but what her clothing suggested: a household servant.

The first things Su-Mei bought were warm, heavy coats for herself and Higgins, blankets, and a shaving knife so Higgins could maintain his disguise. His straw-colored beard stubble was beginning to show. She also purchased a small jug of strong liquor called maotai; she remembered hearing the servants speak of drinking it to keep themselves warm at night.

When evening came, Su-Mei and Higgins returned to her family estate. After a dinner of more street food, Su-Mei offered the maotai to Higgins.

“Make hot.”

Higgins took a tentative sip. “This is very strong liquor, Su-Mei.” He took a longer pull and began to cough.

Su-Mei laughed and took a small sip herself. It was her first experience with alcohol, and she wasn’t sure she liked it, but she could feel the heat building up inside her. She and Higgins traded sips until he gently took the jug away from her and set it down.

“Quite enough for such a small lady as yourself, I think, my dear.” In truth, it was quite enough for Higgins. His head was swimming, and being so near to a beautiful woman he was in love with in an empty, dark house wasn’t helping.

He smiled at Su-Mei, and she smiled back. Higgins reached out and touched her face, caressing her cheeks and jaw, drawing his fingers dangerously close to her lips. She didn’t pull away, just gazed at him, her eyes bright in the dim kitchen. Before he knew how it had happened, Su-Mei was wrapped in his arms, and his lips were touching her hair and then the skin on her neck. She shivered.

“Oh, my love,” he whispered.

Su-Mei didn’t know what to do with her hands. She slid her arms around Higgins’s waist and let her head fall forward against his strong shoulders as he was kissing her.

“Su-Mei?” She looked up and saw a question in his eyes, and the only way she knew how to answer it was to put her arms around his neck and press her fingers into the thin hair on the back of his head. When his lips parted, her face was suddenly upraised to meet them.

As his kisses grew more intense, Su-Mei felt a moment of panic, but it was overridden by the warmth of the liquor and by a sense of safety combined with euphoria, much like the way she had felt when she’d experienced the touch of the Holy Spirit. A sensation fluttered through her body from her toes to her head, assuring her that this was exactly what she was meant to be doing at that moment.

Higgins was at first a little startled at the passion with which Su-Mei responded to his kisses and the corresponding desire that spread through his veins. The church and his proper English upbringing had drilled into him the correct order of these things: declare one’s love, wed, and then consummate the marriage. But the world was upside down—this was not England, and the future was a blank slate. We could both die tomorrow, he thought. He pulled his lips away from hers, breathing heavily.

“Miss Su-Mei Lee, I love you. I want to marry you and live with you forever,” he whispered into her ear. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Su-Mei heard herself responding before she’d even parsed his meaning. “Yes, I love you, and I do you onna of be you wife.” She pulled away for a moment, giddy. “You be my zhangfu?”

Higgins laughed gently. “Yes, Su-Mei, I would be honored to be your zhangfu. Wo hen gaoshing,” he added, stumbling through the words. “You make me a very happy man.”

Su-Mei giggled at his terrible accent and leaned forward to kiss him again. She was feeling warm and tingly, and she wanted to press as much of herself as possible against his body. Something like hunger was building in her belly, and she wasn’t sure how to sate it.

Higgins put his hands on her shoulders and gazed down into her eyes, thoughtful. “Su-Mei?”

“Yes, Tah—Tav—Meesta. Heegans?” Su-Mei was having trouble catching her breath, and she certainly wasn’t in any mood for trying to pronounce difficult English words, but if Mr. Higgins was to be her husband, she felt as though she ought to call him by his first name, as he did with her.

“Su-Mei, I want to make love to you. Do you know what that means?” Higgins’s voice was rough with passion. “Usually, a man and a woman wait until they are married before they do this, but—”

“Yes.” Su-Mei interrupted. “I want make love.”

“Do you know what that means, my darling? It’s when a man and a woman—”

Su-Mei interrupted him again by putting her small hands on the sides of his face and covering his lips with her own. She lowered her hands to his tunic and began tugging it upward, following some instinct to feel his naked skin next to her own. Higgins complied and helped her undress him. He waited before removing her clothing, letting her eyes rove over his body. How strange I must look to her, he thought, forgetting that Su-Mei had never seen a naked man of any race before.

Suddenly shy, Su-Mei reached out a single finger to brush against the hair of his chest, He gasped. With a gleeful smile, she let the finger trail down his body, exploring. Higgins held his breath, his skin burning under her touch—he would not force her into anything before she was ready. At last she removed her hands from him and unfastened her own clothes, wriggling out of her trousers and kicking them away before she lay back on the straw pallet, which was suddenly the most comfortable surface in the world. As he settled the length of his body against hers, she reached for him and buried her face in his neck, tasting the sweat on his skin. “I make love you,” she said.

When they woke together early the next morning, limbs tangled under the new blankets and clothing strewn across the floor, Higgins and Su-Mei exchanged a smile that only new lovers could share. The weight of the world had lessened, and Su-Mei felt a boundless optimism in the face of the difficulties lying in wait.

Chapter Sixteen

Canton, 1839

Lee Su-Mei was seventeen years old, intelligent, and resourceful. And she had four hundred taels of silver. What more was needed to solve any problem?

“Who can be help?” she asked, thinking aloud. “Who Onnabul Fada fend can help?”

“Darling, I think the answer lies in the factories. Perhaps someone there will know what to do or whom to approach to assist your father.”

Su-Mei smiled up at him, enjoying the feeling of being so close to a man who called her sweet nicknames. “Yes. We go factaly.” Da Ping, once again bragging about his future in the family business, had told her about the factories where the foreign traders stored their goods, and they seemed like as good a place as any to seek help.

She and Higgins tried to blend in with the crowd as they walked through the city. It was a stroke of luck that Higgins was of average height for an Englishman; a tall man would have drawn too much attention. He kept his eyes to the ground, and Su-Mei hid her pale, aristocratic hands in her sleeves and covered her face with a scarf. On an ordinary day, their disguises would not have held up for long, but there was so much turmoil and fear in the streets that the residents of Canton were careful to mind their own business and not spend more than a moment looking at anyone else.

The first thing they noticed when they reached the factories was all the new construction. Rough brick walls had been hastily put up around the perimeter, and there was trash all over the garden in front of the British factory. Higgins knew of a passage that he and other sailors used to leave the compound in their disguises in search of liquor. To his relief, he saw that it had not been obstructed by the brick wall. With Su-Mei a discreet few paces behind him like a dutiful Chinese wife, he picked his way across the fifteen-acre compound toward the factory building flying the Union Jack. Situated between the main gate and the Dutch factory, the New England Factory, as it was called, was the largest and best equipped building in the compound, two stories tall with very high ceilings and a view of the square. Higgins led Su-Mei into the ground floor area, which contained a cookhouse and storerooms for teas and other Chinese products. He was turning the corner to go up the stairs when the butt of a rifle smashed into his chest and dropped him to the floor. It knocked the wind out of him, and before he could say a word, two marines in uniform were standing over him with the tips of their bayonets pointing at his neck.

“Fucking yellow monkey thief! Sneaking in to rob us while Captain Elliot holds the line against that bastard emissary, are you?”

“Stop!” gasped Higgins. “I’m Higgins, chief mate on the Scaleby Castle! Put your weapons down!”

The sailors glanced at one another, perplexed. “Why the hell are you dressed like a bleeding Chinaman? And how did you get in?”

“I’ll explain later,” said Higgins, waving the bayonets away and climbing to his feet. A line of fire stretched across his ribs where the first sailor had hit him. “Who’s left here? Who’s in charge?”

“I am,” said a voice behind him. “Chief Superintendent of Trade, Captain Charles Elliot.” He stepped closer. “Stand down, men. Mr. Higgins, who, might I ask, is this woman with you?”

“Chief Superintendent, sir,” Higgins said. “Thank God you’re here! This is Miss Su-Mei Lee, and we urgently need your help, sir!”

“Why aren’t you on your ship?” Elliot asked, his gaze flicking between Higgins and Su-Mei.

“Sir, Captain Robertson gave me permission to accompany Miss Lee into Canton.”

“And you came here, of all places?”

“Yes, sir, we did. We need your help. Miss Lee’s father, the Mandarin Lord Lee Shao Lin, is a close business associate of Mr. William Jardine. Lord Lee and his entire family were arrested while Miss Lee was in Macau. I offered to help her find someone—anyone—who might be able to sort this out and get her family released. I know Mr. Jardine would want to help his most important trader. Can you do anything, sir?”

“Young man, you picked a very bad time to negotiate with the Chinese for his release,” replied Elliot. “This special emissary is flexing his muscles and refusing to negotiate, so I don’t know what we can do.” He paused. “We’ll see how tough he is when Her Majesty’s navy arrives.”

Higgins blinked. “Did you say the navy is coming, sir?”

“I did indeed. The yellow buggers don’t know who they’re dealing with, but they’ll soon find out.”

“Do you think that we would be in a better position to negotiate for Lord Lee’s release after the ships arrive, sir?”

Elliot thought briefly. “Couldn’t say. You and the lady are welcome to stay here with us, but I expect you’ll be safer on your ship.”

“Probably correct, sir, but Miss Lee insists on remaining in Canton until she can see her father.”

The chief superintendent harrumphed. “Have it your own way, but neither I nor the Crown can guarantee your safety. Directly we finish our business here, every British citizen will be departing, and you will be coming with us, unless your captain requires you sooner. The lady may, of course, do as she wishes.” Elliot bowed curtly in Su-Mei’s direction.

“Yes, sir, understood, sir!” Higgins said.

Su-Mei had understood most of their conversation. She returned the chief superintendent’s bow and added, “Tank you, sir. I stay factaly, wait for help for famalee.”

“You are a guest of Her Majesty on these premises,” Elliot replied. “And may I compliment you on your English skills, miss?” He lifted his hat briefly and took his leave.

Su-Mei felt a glimmer of hope for the first time since she’d heard the news of her father’s arrest. She whispered a quick prayer of thanks and followed Higgins upstairs.

A long balcony overlooked the square where Chinese soldiers stood guard. The upper floor of the factory consisted of handsomely decorated sitting rooms, bedrooms, and offices, most of them empty. Higgins showed Su-Mei to a comfortable bedroom and claimed another across the hall for his own. But near midnight, Su-Mei crept silently into his room, much to Higgins’s delight. She left before daybreak, with no one the wiser.

A few hours after breakfast, they were startled by a loud gong sounding from the square. Elliot, Higgins, and Sui-Mei, along with the soldiers, rushed to the balcony to see what was happening. Chinese soldiers were marching into the square, followed by guards dragging a prisoner. He wore a wooden shield that covered his upper body; his head poked through one hole, and his hands appeared through two more holes near his waist. In the middle of the wooden shield was pasted a strip of paper with Chinese characters that read “Evil Opium Den Owner.”

The prisoner was Chu Ting, and he looked dazed and frightened. He had just witnessed the castration of his two sons, and now he stood in the square in chains. The soldiers set up a pole and attached to it a length of rope tied to a short piece of wood at each end. A crowd was forming, and within minutes, the square was full of spectators.

A soldier stepped forward and read from a scroll. “By order of Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu, representing our Celestial Emperor, this evil owner of ten opium dens is hereby condemned to death. Let this be a warning that our beloved emperor will no longer tolerate the existence of opium or the wicked men who smuggle it into our Celestial Kingdom and sell it to our citizens.”

Elliot, Higgins, Su-Mei, and the handful of men looked on in horror as soldiers tied Chu Ting to the pole. The executioner walked around him, wrapped the rope around his neck, tightened it, and began twisting the piece of wood. Chu Ting tried to scream but couldn’t. His face turned bright red, and the whites of his eyes filled with blood. The whole square went silent as Chu Ting fought for his last breath, his face contorted in agony.

Su-Mei covered her eyes in horror, and the British soldiers grimaced at the cruelty of it. But most of the crowd erupted in cheers as they dragged Chu Ting’s body off, although many were quietly panicking, not knowing where they would get their next fix. Soldiers were cracking down on everything related to opium; even the pipe makers were being arrested.

But the spectacle wasn’t over. The gongs started up again, and the crowd turned expectantly to see who was being dragged in next. Su-Mei looked along with them, and her blood turned to ice. Her father, her mother, her concubine mothers, and their daughters and son were being dragged out of a horse-drawn cage and positioned in the center of the square.

“Good God, man, those are young children!” Elliot choked. “They can’t mean to execute children!”

The same soldier read a second announcement. “By order of Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu, representing our Celestial Emperor, the wicked and corrupt Lee Shao Lin, the biggest opium dealer in Canton, and his family are hereby condemned to death by beheading. They suffer this most severe punishment because they all have enjoyed lives of luxury and excess from the profits made on the wicked opium that has killed so many of our people. The souls of a thousand victims of Lee Shao Lin cry out for justice. We hope the death of his entire family will soothe their suffering.” Higgins didn’t have to understand any Chinese at all to know what was going on. He put his hands on Su-Mei’s shoulders and turned her face into his chest just as she began to scream.

An executioner took his place behind each of the condemned prisoners as another soldier banged a gong. The crowd cheered again, this time even louder than when Chu Ting met his end. Lee Shao Lin’s arrest and the knowledge that he had been the biggest opium dealer in all of China, had been shocking news to everyone not involved in the smuggling business, and there was little sympathy among the people of Canton for him or for his family. Su-Mei struggled violently to break free of Higgins’s hold, but he was strong and held her tightly. She managed to turn her head just enough to glimpse the executioners waving their brutally sharp blades through the air. The heads fell silently from the necks of Lee Shao Lin, Mei Li, the two concubines, and their children, aged five, seven, thirteen, and sixteen. Su-Mei crumpled in a dead faint in Higgins’s arms.

The announcement pasted at her family estate that had given Su-Mei hope had not mentioned that Special Emissary Lin had moved the execution date to send a clear message to Chief Superintendent Elliot before he left the factories. He had decided it wasn’t worth waiting to find the missing son and daughter of Lee Shao Lin if the chief superintendent missed the execution of the worst opium offender. He was confident the execution would strike fear into the hearts of the foreign smugglers: If the Chinese were willing to take such drastic measures against their own, how much more harshly would they treat the foreign criminals?

Chief Superintendent Elliot was angered and disgusted by the spectacle and more determined than ever to stay in Canton to show the resolve of the British. The factory compound flew the Union Jack, and any move China dared to make would constitute an act of war against Great Britain. A letter to Parliament would bring down an official declaration and the might of the Royal Navy. Your move, Special Emissary Lin, he thought grimly. All the same, Elliot wrote a quick message to Captain Robertson ordering him to send his wife and son to Singapore so they would be out of harm’s way in the event things turned violent. He paid a willing coolie handsomely to take it to the Scaleby Castle on the fastest chop boat he could find.

Elliot had received a letter from the foreign secretary, Lord Palmerston, one month before the opium was confiscated informing him that, in response to reports indicating a potential conflict, military support was an option being considered to protect British interests in China. Not wanting to disrupt the trading season—because the British needed their tea and trinkets—he kept the letter to himself, content in the knowledge that he and Palmerston were thinking along the same lines. But now that Lin had poured kerosene on the fire, Elliot was ready to fan the flames.

In a letter to the prime minister following the executions, Elliot indicated that British subjects in Canton were under threat of “rapine and massacre.” India’s Chamber of Commerce sent its own letters, fearing an interruption in opium sales. England had just resolved an international crisis involving Afghanistan, Egypt, Iran, and Syria; the Crown wanted to curb the influence of other foreign powers, namely, France and Russia, in that region. As a result, China was not at the forefront of most politicians’ minds.

Elliot wanted Parliament to stop flexing British might in the Middle East and instead turn its attention to the China trade. To ensure that his letters urging the use of force to restore trade arrived in a timely manner, Elliot sent them by opium clippers, which were so much faster than other ships.

Months earlier, the opium traders had put together a lobby in London to sway the opinions of powerful politicians in support of their business. The lobbyists wrote newspaper articles to portray the trade as a legitimate business, even though it was now common knowledge in England that opium was banned in China, and persuade readers that the drug was in fact beneficial and not harmful. James Matheson wrote that in the twenty-one years he’d worked in China, he had never seen a Chinese “in the least bestialized” by smoking opium. He emphasized that opium “simply did for the upper levels of Chinese society what brandy and champagne did for the same level in England,” knowing very well that opium was enjoyed by the upper classes but most of the addicts whose lives were destroyed by the drug were common people.

Meanwhile, Elliot was feverishly writing more letters, hoping they would reach London quickly. He had to pay dearly to have them smuggled out of Canton to a British ship anchored off Macau. He planned to stay at the factories until it was absolutely necessary to leave for his own safety.

Su-Mei, inconsolable, had not eaten or spoken more than a few words in two days. “You must eat something, my dear,” Higgins pleaded. “There’s nothing you can do for your family now, so you must care for yourself.”

She shook her head. “No. No eat.” The expression in her eyes alarmed him. Rage and hatred had changed her nature, made her hard and closed off.

“My darling, I am here for you. I will cherish and protect you, and we will come through this together. I am your family now—and forever.”

Su-Mei had thought she needed Higgins before her family was killed; she realized now with great pain what that really meant. He was the only person in the world she could count on. She nodded in response, and the streams of tears began to flow again. Higgins put his arms around her and held her tightly. For the first time, her sadness began to overtake hatred, and she was sure Higgins’s presence and compassion were responsible.

“Wait!” Su-Mei’s eyes opened wide. “Da Ping not kiu! Must be live, no dead!”

“Da Ping?” Higgins asked, surprised.

“Di Di. Budder. Soja no find him.” Hope flickered briefly in her eyes, overtaking the despair. Energy flooded her body.

“You never told me you had a brother, my dear! Where is he?”

“Not know,” said Su-Mei. “He live wit Fada. Not know why he not dead.”

“We must find him,” said Higgins decisively. “You came here to save your family, and we can still do that.” He held her tighter. “Where should we start looking? Do you know any of his friends?”

Su-Mei shook her head. “Fada no like him spend time wit me. Da Ping Number One Son, so famalee bizziness for him.” It hit her like a weight how little she knew of her brother’s life since their father had decided to separate them. It had been so easy to let him slip away.

“Tomorrow,” said Higgins decisively, “we will sneak out and try to find some of his acquaintances. Someone must know his whereabouts and be hiding him.”

“You go wit me?” Su-Mei asked hopefully.

“Of course I will, my love. I’m not letting you venture out alone. It isn’t safe.”

Su-Mei offered the ghost of a smile and leaned forward to kiss him. Surprised, he returned the kiss.

Su-Mei had come close to losing all hope. When Higgins’s declaration lifted the veil of grief the slightest bit, she remembered that she wasn’t completely alone in the world. Da Ping was probably still alive, and Higgins was willing to help her find him. She felt energy and life seeping back into her body, along with an even stronger feeling of love for this foreigner, Travers Higgins.

“I love you, Tava!” she said softly.

“I love you too, my dearest,” Higgins replied. “Soon you will be Mrs. Travers Higgins, and you must get used to saying that.” He smiled, hoping his future wife would learn to pronounce his name soon.

Su-Mei looked confused. “My name your name?”

Higgins nodded. “In my country married women take the name of their husband. Give it a go, my love.”

“Mizes Tavez Heegan.” She nodded to herself. “I Mizes Tavez Heegan. You Meesta Tavez Heegan.”

“Close enough for now.” He kissed her, thrilled to see Su-Mei begin to talk and smile again. He knew that the hope of finding her brother had caused the change, and he was determined to do whatever it took to get her back to normal.

Against Chief Superintendent Elliot’s strongly worded admonitions, Higgins and Su-Mei sneaked out of the factory compound after dark and walked back to Su-Mei’s home. Higgins was again dressed in his Chinese clothes and false queue, and Su-Mei wore the poor clothes of a servant, thanks to Pai Chu. The moment they returned to the servants’ quarters, the memories of their time in that house overtook them like a draft of maotai, and they tore each other’s clothes away and fell onto the straw pallet together. As they each grew more accustomed to the other’s body and the act of lovemaking, they found their passion—and their pleasure—increasing. After two days of darkness and fury, the physical and emotional release brought Su-Mei to tears, and Higgins held her shaking body in his arms until she fell asleep. In the morning she felt washed clean, still raw but ready to face the next challenge in her path with the man she loved at her side.

From the day she had to fight off the herbalist who tried to break the bones of her feet to make her more attractive to the day her father threatened to marry her off to a stranger, Su-Mei had never been infused with national pride or felt particularly proud of her heritage. Quite simply, she was Chinese, and that was all she had ever known until she set foot in Macau. This was further compounded by discovering that, as a woman, no matter how wealthy, all her decisions would be in the hands of a man: first, her father, and then whatever man he chose to be her husband. Meeting a kind and loving man from the West and witnessing the execution of her family for the crimes of one man who had been committing them for decades more or less extinguished any lingering attachments she might have had to her culture. She had never been treated more respectfully than by total strangers she had been raised to call foreign devils and barbarians. These foreigners were proving to be a people of conviction and principles, as well as mercy.

They are selling opium to us, and that’s very bad, she thought as she washed and dressed herself the following morning. But Father sold opium, and so many corrupt guans took bribes to allow it to happen, and the people who bought Father’s opium and sold it to addicts were Chinese too. So who is the biggest criminal? She had no answers; she only knew she was safe with one of those barbarians, wanted for execution by her own people, and felt like a stranger in both worlds. At that moment she would have happily left China forever and gone to England with Travers Higgins, if not for the possibility of saving Da Ping.

God works in mysterious ways, she reminded herself. I pray he will lead me to my brother and away from all this bloodshed.

Chapter Seventeen

“So where do we begin?” asked Higgins when she had finished dressing.

“Go again Fada shop. Maybe see something.” She remembered the secret panel in the floor. “Get silva.”

“Yes,” agreed Higgins. “Good idea. We may need it for bribes.”

They reached the shop without mishap in their disguises. Higgins was worried that the authorities might have occupied the shop now that Lee Shao Lin was dead, but it remained empty and was now unguarded. As they walked past the small garden outside her father’s private office, they heard a noise behind the bamboo. Higgins unsheathed his knife and motioned for Su-Mei to get behind him. A man in torn, dirty clothing leaped up and tried to limp away. Higgins caught him easily and pinned him to the ground.

“Please! Don’t kill me!” the man said, shaking with fear.

“Who are you?” asked Su-Mei.

“My name is Chu Sing. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“This was my father’s office,” said Su-Mei, a touch of acid creeping into her voice. “I should be asking you.”

“Oh, you must be Da Ping’s sister.”

“I am,” she replied eagerly. “How do you know my brother, and where is he?” She didn’t trust this man, but he might have useful information.

“I am your brother’s best friend! I’ve been here with him many times, but I don’t know where he is.” The man looked from Su-Mei to Higgins, who still held him down. “Can I get up now? Who is this foreign devil?”

“The foreign devil is my future husband,” Su-Mei snapped. She translated Chu Sing’s words for Higgins, who was relieved that he wasn’t a thief who might turn in Su-Mei for a reward.

“So what are you doing here now, Chu Sing?” Su-Mei asked.

“I was hungry, and I thought I would find some money here.” Chu Sing’s hands were shaking, and his nose was running. “Did you just say this foreign devil is your future husband?”

“He needs opium, my dear,” said Higgins. “He’s an addict. And he’s covered in blood.”

Looking closer, Su-Mei noticed bloodstains on Chu Sing’s trousers. “Are you injured?”

Chu Sing’s face contorted. “They castrated me in front of my father, and then they dragged him away and killed him.” He began to sob uncontrollably, curled into a fetal position.

Su-Mei shuddered, adding this to the mounting pile of reasons why she should join the world of the foreign devil barbarians. She explained to Higgins, and together they helped Chu Sing off the ground and into the store’s sitting room. Su-Mei had a paper of roasted peanuts she’d saved from their breakfast, and she gave it to Chu Sing, who ate them automatically, tears still running down his face.

“They came and arrested me and my brother,” Chu Sing said between peanuts. “My father was in jail already. I found out they forced him to turn your father in; if he hadn’t done it, they would have killed us too.”

“And where is your brother?”

“He died yesterday—those bastards made a mess of the job and couldn’t stop the bleeding. He was just ten years old!” Chu Sing buried his face in his hands.

“Chu Sing, stop crying and listen to me carefully.” Su-Mei lifted his chin so she could look into his eyes. “You’re safe here for now, and we’ll take care of you, but you have to help us find Da Ping. Do you know where he could be? Think hard—tell me everything you know!”

Chu Sing tried to collect himself. He owed Da Ping this service after what his father had done. “We were out together with some friends the day your father was arrested. And then afterward, he said he was going to the Flower Lantern to visit Little Spring. He hadn’t heard the news—we didn’t find out until later.”

“What is the Flower Lantern? And who is Little Spring?” Su-Mei had to restrain herself from shaking him.

“The Flower Lantern is a place where, uh, men go to be entertained by women. I took him there about a month ago, and he liked it so much he’s been going back all the time.”

“But Da Ping is not a man! He’s thirteen!” exclaimed Su-Mei. “And Little Spring is a…?”

“Yes,” said Chu Sing. “Little Spring is your brother’s favorite lady at the Flower Lantern.”

“Chu Sing, here is what’s going to happen,” Su-Mei said, slowly and carefully so the sobbing teen could understand. “You are going to take us to this Flower Lantern place and find Little Spring. Maybe she can tell us what happened to Da Ping. If you do this, I will give you five taels of silver, and you can stay here until someone comes to take over the offices. My father is dead, but his associates or the magistrates or someone will have to sort out his affairs.”

Chu Sing brightened. “Can you give me the money first?”

Su-Mei explained the plan to Higgins and asked him to watch Chu Sing while she went into the office to get the silver. She felt sorry for what had happened to the boy, but her mind was focused on this possible trail to Da Ping. As she knelt to open the silver box, she prayed for heavenly assistance.

“Where are you going to get opium, Chu Sing?” she asked when she returned. “Everyone in the business has either been arrested or is in hiding.”

“Just because they’re cracking down doesn’t mean it’s not for sale. I’ll find some, don’t worry!”

“Take us to Little Spring first, please.”

Chu Sing moved very slowly. The pain in his groin was excruciating, and his withdrawal made his body clumsy and tired. Su-Mei wanted to scream with frustration every time he stopped and demanded a rest. Higgins constantly scanned the streets for anything that might mean trouble.

They hid out of sight of the main entrance to the Flower Lantern and watched men go in and out. The small private barges seemed to be very busy for so early in the evening. When business quieted down somewhat, Chu Sing and Su-Mei crept closer. Higgins kept watch from behind a barber’s stall that was still doing a robust business after dark. Suddenly Chu Sing tugged at Su-Mei’s sleeve and pointed to a young woman in a brilliant silk robe who had just stepped out of one of the barges.

“Pssst, Little Spring!” he whispered.

Little Spring pretended not to hear and turned a corner to head behind the main hall. When Chu Sing and Su-Mei followed her around the corner, she was waiting for them. In one quick motion, she slipped a dainty dagger out of her sleeve and held it to Chu Sing’s throat.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” she demanded in a hoarse whisper.

“Little Spring, it’s me, Chu Sing!”

“Oh, Master Chu!” She glanced at him in surprise. “What happened to you? You look terrible!” She had, of course, heard the news but wanted to spare his pride.

“I’ll explain later, but can you please come with us so we can talk? We need your help.” He indicated Su-Mei. “This is Lee Su-Mei, Da Ping’s sister.”

“Idiot! Why did you bring her here? You know they’re looking for her and her brother! You’re going to get me in big trouble.” Little Spring looked over her shoulder.

“Please, Miss Little Spring,” Su-Mei interrupted. “I beg of you, please give us a few minutes of your time! I can pay. I am desperate to find Da Ping—he is the only family I have left!”

Little Spring nodded. There was no risk in speaking with Da Ping’s sister because she was in as much trouble as he was. And she still felt a little guilty about the role she’d played in Chu Sing’s father’s arrest, which had led to Lee Shao Lin’s execution and Da Ping’s new career.

“All right, but you can’t stay here, and you can’t be seen entering my barge.”

“Please come with us to my father’s office. It’s safe there—no one is bothering to guard it now.”

After another slow walk back, with Chu Sing panting from exhaustion and pain and occasionally hinting to Little Spring that he was looking for some medicine and did she know where he could find any, the four of them slipped into the office. Su-Mei found a small lamp that hadn’t been smashed and lit it, carefully shielding it so it wouldn’t be seen from outside. In the light Little Spring got a better look at Higgins in his disguise and realized he wasn’t Chinese.

“Who is this foreign devil?” She took a wary step back.

“It’s all right, Miss Little Spring,” said Su-Mei. “You can trust him. He is to be my husband. His name is Mr. Heegan.”

Higgins smiled and bowed his head respectfully. “Ni hao,” he said in his best Chinese.

Little Spring snorted and ignored him. “Husband? Really?”

“Please, Miss Little Spring, what can you tell us about my brother?”

“Your little brother is a kind and gentle boy, and I liked him,” Little Spring said. She could hear the anxiety in Su-Mei’s voice, and she didn’t want this woman to suffer any more pain. “He happened to come to see me on the day your father was arrested, and it saved his life.” She paused. “I saved his life.”

“So where is he now? Is he safe?”

“I took a big risk for him and convinced one of my customers, an army officer, to take him to Fu-Moon as a poor orphan recruit under a different name. He should be there now, serving in the army.”

“What?” exclaimed Su-Mei. “Da Ping is a soldier?”

“Yes, it’s better than being dead, and it was the only chance he had. He was lucky that the vice general was visiting me that night—I don’t know what would have happened to him otherwise.”

Su-Mei stared in disbelief, unable to speak.

“So if that’s all you needed to know, I’d better be going, Lady Su-Mei,” said Little Spring, talking quickly and edging toward the door. “Chu Sing, take care of yourself, all right? Come see me when you’re—well, maybe not.”

“Miss Little Spring!” Su-Mei dropped to her knees and bowed her head to the floor at Little Spring’s feet. “Thank you for saving my brother’s life! Please accept my prostrated thanks for your kindness! I cannot ever thank you enough.” She banged her forehead to the floor three times to show her sincerity, tears of joy falling to the polished wood each time.

“Oh, Lady Lee, please get up!” cried Little Spring, honored and embarrassed at the same time. “You must not prostrate yourself in front of a woman like me. I don’t deserve it.” Su-Mei remained kneeling but looked up at Little Spring, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Da Ping is using the name Ming Ming and serving under General Kwan Tien Pui. The general is very well known, and you should be able to find him easily.”

“You saved my brother’s life! You saved my brother’s life!” Su-Mei said, her voice bright with joy.

Higgins didn’t have to understand a word of Chinese to know from Su-Mei’s reaction that it was good news. He didn’t quite get why she knelt and banged her head on the floor, but he didn’t care. When Su-Mei translated for him, he was elated that her brother was safe and this other woman knew where he was. He gave Su-Mei his hand to help her up, and she embraced him, not caring who saw.

“Da Ping is alive! We must go Fu-Moon!”

“Of course! We’ll leave tomorrow morning. But where and what is Fu-Moon?” Higgins asked.

“No far. Is ahmee place to potac Canton. Da Ping is now soja.”

“Wonderful news!” said Higgins. Su-Mei’s transformation from two days earlier warmed his heart.

Su-Mei tried to give Little Spring an overflowing handful of silver taels, but she refused. Su-Mei was on the run, no longer a wealthy lady, and she would need money. And Da Ping can probably use a big sister, she thought.

“Are we finished here now?” Chu Sing had been sitting in the corner shivering and rocking back and forth. “Do you know where I can get some opium, Little Spring? I really, really could use some.”

“Follow me back. I have some I can give you,” said Little Spring, feeling very charitable and full of goodwill all of a sudden. “But you must make it last. It’s very hard to find now.”

After Chu Sing left, hobbling after Little Spring, Su-Mei blew out the lamp and locked the door. As they walked back toward the factory compound, they began to formulate a plan.

“Fu-Moon too far walk. Need boat.”

“Then tomorrow we must hire a boat,” Higgins said. “And I will alert Chief Superintendent Elliot and Captain Robertson that we know your brother’s whereabouts.”

Under cover of darkness, Su-Mei slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it gently, wondering if anyone would be awake on the upper floor of the factory building to notice where the lieutenant and the young Chinese lady spent the night.

When morning came, Su-Mei and Higgins slipped out of the compound and bought a strong wheelbarrow with two wheels, designed for heavy loads. She was careful to look down and conceal her hands from the man who sold it to her. No lady would ever want such a thing. Higgins wheeled it back to Shao Lin’s shop, and Su-Mei, with Higgins’s help, emptied the iron box, lifted it into the wheelbarrow, and refilled it with the silver. They covered it with blankets. He quickly worked up a sweat pushing the wheelbarrow; the silver and iron were heavier than they looked. Once inside the compound, they concealed it in one of the storerooms.

Chief Superintendent Elliot was pleased to see that the chief mate and his Chinese lady had returned safely. It was part of his duty to protect all British subjects in China. However, when he heard the plan to locate Da Ping, he took a dim view of risking the safety of one of those subjects.

“Highly irregular, Mr. Higgins. I’m afraid I can’t allow it.”

“Sir, I have asked Miss Lee to marry me, and she has agreed, which will make her a British citizen and therefore under the protection of our laws. As soon as we find her brother, I plan to bring both of them to London with me. But for now, I wonder if you could use your authority to marry us.”

“Marry you? Indeed. Well, I expect you know your own business, sir,” Elliot replied stiffly. “But I’m afraid I have no authority to grant her British citizenship without permission from London, so you’ll have to wait for that.”

“Sir, the authorities are looking for her and her brother, and they will both be executed if we don’t get them out of China soon.”

“That’s regrettable, but unless she has some intelligence of a sensitive nature, I’m afraid it’s out of the question. We cannot take her out of the country on a British ship without permission from her government or ours. Hard luck, lad.” He clapped Higgins on the back.

“Sir, I believe Miss Lee could be helpful to us if we go to Fu-Moon,” said Higgins, scrambling for anything that would change the chief superintendent’s mind. “I’ve had a look in the map room, and Fu-Moon is the main fort outside the entrance to Canton. If this becomes a military matter, sir, we will need all the intelligence we can get on the Chinese defenses.”

“And what makes you think Miss Lee will divulge the military secrets of her own people, Higgins? Are you mad?”

“Sir,” said Higgins, “Miss Lee witnessed her family being executed, as we all did. The Chinese authorities are looking for her so they can kill her too. So where do you think her loyalty lies? Do you think she will side with the people who murdered her family? Miss Lee has told me there’s nothing left for her here now, except her brother, and she only wishes to rescue him and seek asylum in Britain. She will do anything that furthers that goal, including spy for our side.” Higgins drew a deep breath and waited for Elliot’s response.

Elliot considered, tapping his teeth with a fingernail. “Very well, then, sir. Having intelligence about the Chinese defense would be valuable. I will authorize passage to London for Miss Lee and her brother. I hope she finds him—and some valuable information.”

“Yes, sir, Chief Superintendent!” Higgins saluted smartly and prepared to leave.

“A word of advice, lad,” Elliot’s brows drew together in concern. “Don’t bring her home.”

“Sir?”

“Take her to London to have your papers sorted, but don’t set up housekeeping there. It will be hard on you both—and devastating for any children. You could get on quite happily in Singapore, or even Macau after this bit of mafficking is finished.” Elliot turned back to the papers on his desk. The meeting was over.

Su-Mei threw herself into Higgins’s arms when she heard the news.

“My dear Su-Mei, before we leave, I have a proposal.”

“What that mean, dallink Televas?”

“Let’s get married before we leave!”

“Mallied? Now?”

“Yes, why not? I love you, and you love me, and Chief Superintendent Elliot can perform the ceremony. We can have a church wedding when we arrive in England.”

“No. Fada, Mudda dead—no mally. Sit mont, maybe moah.”

“I don’t understand, Su-Mei,” said Higgins. “Six months of mourning? Is there no way to get around it?” It had never occurred to him that her fury with Chinese law enforcement had no bearing on the traditions with which she had been raised.

“Celabate no come after famalee die,” said Su-Mei stubbornly. “Is bad joss.”

Higgins sighed. Anything could happen in that time. “As you wish, my love. We shall wait six months. The last thing we need is more bad luck.”

Su-Mei smiled wide. “You good man, Televas. I love so much!”

“I love you too, dearest! And I am counting the days until you’re legally mine.”

Chapter Eighteen

At first light, Higgins and Su-Mei were on their way to the Flower Lantern, where there were always chop boats for hire. Higgins tried to push the wheelbarrow as though it didn’t contain a fortune in silver.

“Stop a moment,” he called to Su-Mei. He set the wheelbarrow down and went to investigate what looked like a pile of rags in an alley. It was Chu Sing, motionless, his face dark and his skin ice cold. “Damn! Poor bastard.” Higgins covered the boy’s face with part of his coat.

“What is it?” Su-Mei asked, coming closer.

“Stay there, darling. You shouldn’t see this.” Higgins turned around and put his hands on Su-Mei’s shoulders. “It’s your brother’s friend, Chu. He must have smoked too much opium. I am sorry.”

Su-Mei ignored his warning and bent down to look at Chu Sing. “We shouldn’t leave him, but we can’t tell the police,” said Higgins. He looked around nervously. “In fact, we should be going on now.” Su-Mei noticed that Chu Sing clutched something to his chest with one hand. She reached forward and tugged at his fingers, revealing a cloth pouch. She pulled the drawstring and saw what was left of the silver she had given him. She hid the pouch in her tunic and turned away. “He not need. Let go.”

The only chop boat operator who would agree to take them to Fu-Moon demanded ten taels of silver.

“That is much too high!” Even Su-Mei, who was accustomed to the most luxurious transportation available, knew that price was too much.

The operator shook his head. “I can’t be caught with a foreign devil, not these days. That disguise is fooling no one. Ten taels, or you find another boat.”

Hastily, they paid and got on board before the operator decided to charge even more for the bulky wheelbarrow. They crouched down inside the chop boat, out of sight, for the journey. The boat sailed with the current, so the fifty-mile journey only lasted a day, but it felt like an eternity to Su-Mei. They nibbled the dried fish and rice they had brought and whispered quietly to one another, muscles cramping in the tight space.

When they arrived, night had fallen. Staying in a hotel was out of the question because foreigners were never seen in Fu-Moon, but they couldn’t wander the streets all night with a wheelbarrow of silver.

“Sihmiao,” said Su-Mei, pointing. A small Buddhist temple overlooked the bay; it was empty, and they could hide there till morning. Su-Mei thanked God for providing her with the silver to buy warm coats and blankets. They hid the wheelbarrow behind the temple, covered with straw.

In the morning, shivering and stiff, Higgins took a look at the bay. He counted more than fifty junks, all bearing weapons. Looks like the Chinese are preparing for war, he thought. But if that’s the extent of their defensive force, we’ll blast them out of the water. He felt torn between pride in his country’s navy and shame for what would be a very lopsided contest.

“Good morning, my darling,” he said as Su-Mei approached.

“Good mahning, Telavas.” She smiled and rubbed her arms to get warm.

“So how do we go about finding your brother?”

Su-Mei considered. “I ask where soja live.”

Higgins shaved his face carefully and pulled the cap with the false queue low over his eyes, and they began walking toward what seemed to be the center of town.

“How are you? My name is San San,” Su-Mei said to a street vendor as she paid for a bowl of hot dumplings. She inhaled the steam gratefully in the chill morning. “I am from Canton, and I’m visiting my brother who is serving under General Kwan. Can you tell me where the barracks are?”

“Follow that path until you reach the water,” said the dumpling vendor, already turning to the next customer. He waved an arm behind him. “You’ll see the army barracks and the cannons.”

“Thank you!” Su-Mei bowed politely and gestured to Higgins to walk ahead of her.

“Walk fast,” she called to him. She was practically running, her body filled with adrenaline at the thought of seeing Da Ping soon.

The barracks at Fu-Moon were bleak and bare. Made of stone blocks, the buildings were arranged so that all the doors opened onto three sides of a central quadrangle. The fourth side was open to the defensive platforms where large, antiquated cannons were mounted to face the Pearl River. The common soldiers slept six to a room with one small window and a narrow door. Senior officers had more privacy, and General Kwan had a separate residence and an office at the center of the barracks. The general was highly decorated and well loved, and he hated what opium was doing to his homeland. He was one of the few people Special Emissary Lin trusted completely.

Higgins and Su-Mei could glimpse soldiers in uniform milling around the quadrangle. They seemed to be on a break—some were washing their clothes, and others were sitting around chatting. Several soldiers stood guard at the cannon platform, orderly and disciplined. Higgins, being somewhat familiar with military discipline, could tell that Fu-Moon Fort was well run and its men were dedicated and prepared. We can beat their ships and guns handily, he thought, but these soldiers will be a different story, and they’re fighting for their homeland.

Su-Mei tried to search, but all the soldiers looked alike at that distance.

“We need to get closer so we can see their faces,” remarked Higgins.

They watched for hours but saw no sign of Da Ping.

“Go back? Find way in?” suggested Su-Mei.

“Sure,” Higgins said. “We can’t see anything from here, anyway.”

Back on the main street, Su-Mei spotted a street vendor who sharpened knives. He had a large basket of knives and swords, and there were spears lying near him on the ground. He will know about the garrison, thought Su-Mei. She gestured to Higgins to wait out of sight.

“Excuse me, Master Knife Sharpener,” she said, approaching him. “Are these weapons for the soldiers stationed here?”

“Yes, miss, and I have to get them all done by tomorrow—they seem to be in quite a hurry. So you must excuse me, I’m very busy.”

“My name is San San, and my brother is stationed inside the fort. I just traveled a long way to see him, but I don’t know how to get in.”

“General Kwan is very strict with his soldiers,” replied the knife sharpener impatiently. “No one goes into the fort without permission. You’ll have to wait until your brother is granted leave time. And now I must get back to work!”

“Please, sir, we have a family emergency. Our father is very ill, and I must tell my brother and give him a letter from Honorable Father.”

The knife sharpener shook his head, his queue swaying. “General Kwan does not make exceptions. Now I really must get back to work. As you can see, I have a lot of blades to sharpen here.”

Panicking, Su-Mei blurted out the first thought that came into her head. “Master, I can help! I will help you sharpen the blades, and tomorrow I will help you carry them into the fort. I’ll do it without pay. This way, I will be your assistant, and if I see my brother inside, I can talk to him very briefly. What have you got to lose?”

“You’ll do it without pay?”

“Yes! Consider it a trade. I would be so grateful, and so would my brother and my Honorable Father.”

“What do you know about knife sharpening, miss?” the man asked.

“Nothing, master, but I learn very fast, and I will work very hard.”

The knife sharpener looked at the young woman in front of him. She was exceptionally pretty, even with dirt on her face and in wrinkled, drab clothes. He was about to turn her away when he saw the desperation in her eyes. “Very well, let’s get started with the smaller knives. Tell me your name again.”

“San San, master.”

“San San, I am Wen Jing. Watch carefully.” He showed her how to use the sharpening stone and hold the knife. It looked easy to Su-Mei, so she picked up a knife and tried to copy the sharpener’s movements. As soon as she began to move the knife up and down, she sliced her finger, and it started to bleed.

“No, no, you’re doing it too fast. You must go slow and use even strokes as you move the blade against the stone.” He reached for her hand to examine the wound but dropped it in surprise. “Why are your hands so soft and pale? You look like you’ve never done a day’s work in your life!” He squinted at her face again. “Are you a wealthy lady? Run away from your husband or something?”

“Oh, no!” Su-Mei faked a laugh. “How I wish! Actually, Master Wen, I was very sick as a child. I couldn’t play outside or do any work—that’s why my skin is so pale and my hands have no calluses. Look at my feet—do they look like a lady’s feet?”

Wen Jing looked down at Su-Mei’s feet in her servant’s slippers and nodded. “No, you’re right about that.” He chuckled. “Are you well now, San San?”

“Yes, I’m much healthier now, and I can do this! You’ll see.” Su-Mei squatted and took up the knife and the whetstone. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Higgins was still there.

“Hey, Master Wen, if you know of a rich boy, maybe you can introduce me as some wealthy lady who forgot to bind her feet!”

The knife sharpener laughed out loud. This San San was pleasant company and a quick learner, although by the time the work was done, she had cut herself several times.

“You learn fast, young lady,” Wen Jing said. “Most apprentices have even more cuts than you after the first day!” He laughed. “And now your hands will start to look like an honest worker’s hands.”

Su-Mei bowed gratefully. “When should I arrive to deliver these to the fort?” she asked.

“Be here at sunrise. General Kwan is an early riser, which means his troops are too. It’ll be easy for you to find your brother during morning inspection.”

“Thank you, Master Wen!”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow, San San.”

She hurried down the street to where Higgins had been waiting patiently. He tore his handkerchief into strips to bind her fingers. “Oh darling, do they hurt? That was a clever plan you had to find a way into the fort.” Su-Mei was always surprising him with her daring and quick wit.

She smiled. “No hurt. He vally nice and I go to fort tomollo.” She looked down at Higgins’s sleeve, where he had hidden his knife, and added, “I shap your knife now—I good shapper.” They both laughed out loud.

After a simple meal of rice and grilled fish from a street stall, they returned to the temple, which was once again deserted, for the night. Higgins wondered briefly why there were no monks looking after the place, but then again, there was nothing in the temple to steal, and Fu-Moon was a sleepy little town.

The swords and knives were heavy, and Su-Mei struggled to lift the unwieldy basket down from Wen Jing’s handcart. He rushed to help her with it, looking concerned. Su-Mei was relieved she’d thought of such a convincing story to explain away her pale skin, soft hands, and weak muscles.

A pair of soldiers opened the main gate for them, and Wen Jing and Su-Mei carried the baskets of weapons in. Su-Mei scanned the soldiers as they entered the mess hall to collect their breakfast of rice and dried pork. Tables and chairs were set up in the quadrangle for the men who were coming off duty and those who had just risen. General Kwan always ate breakfast with his troops and greeted them cordially as they passed his table.

There was no sign of Da Ping. Master Wen Jing was gesturing for her to pack up the empty baskets and get ready to leave when she saw someone who looked like him march in from the cannon platform. Can’t be him! That boy is too skinny, Su-Mei decided. Da Ping loved his meals, and he had always been a chubby boy. But the way he walked and the birthmark on his face, just visible below his helmet, was unmistakable. As he grew closer, she noted another mark, a jagged red line across his cheekbone.

“Little Brother, is that you? It is you!”

“Big Sister? How can you be here?”

Su-Mei lunged at Da Ping and wrapped her arms around him. They both wept loudly, attracting the attention of the other soldiers around them.

“What is this disturbance?” General Kwan shouted. “Who is this woman, and what is she doing here?”

Soldiers grabbed Su-Mei’s arms and pulled her away from Da Ping. “To the general, now! Explain yourselves!” shouted one of them. Su-Mei let herself be shoved along until she was standing before a lean, gray-haired man in an important-looking uniform. The hands on her arms pushed downward, and she sank to her knees. Da Ping did the same.

“Lord General,” said Su-Mei meekly. “May I have permission to speak?” The general nodded. “My name is San San. I have traveled all the way from Canton to see my brother Da—Ming Ming. I came to tell him that our Honorable Father is very ill and may not survive. I helped Master Wen Jing sharpen your weapons so I could get inside here to look for him. I didn’t know what else to do! Please forgive me, Lord General!” She looked carefully at the ground in front of her knees.

“Why didn’t you go through the proper channels to request a visit with your brother? This is a secure military area—people can’t just walk in whenever they like!”

“Lord General, I was desperate,” said Su-Mei, still looking down. “I was afraid it would take too long if I followed the procedures.”

“I do not tolerate any lapse in discipline from my soldiers,” said the general, “but this is your doing, young lady, and not Foot Soldier Ming’s, so I will overlook it this time. Now, you say your Honorable Father is ill and has a message for your brother?”

“Yes, Lord General.” Su-Mei nodded.

“Then I will make an exception and allow you to spend one hour with your brother. His shift has just ended, so you may go to the cannon platform area where you may have some privacy. You will be escorted out of the fort at the end of the hour. Is this understood?”

“Yes, Lord General. Thank you for your kindness, and please accept our prostrated thanks!”

Su-Mei elbowed Da Ping, who seemed half asleep during the entire conversation, and both siblings prostrated themselves before General Kwan three times to show their respect and gratitude.

As soon as they were alone, Su-Mei filled Da Ping in on everything that had happened since their father returned to Macau to retrieve her. It was too much information for him to digest.

“How could they do this to us?” Da Ping’s boyish tears contrasted sharply with his soldier’s uniform. “What are we going to do? And how did you find me here, Big Sister? We’re lucky the vice general’s not here—he thinks I’m an orphan and you told the general our father is ill.”

“Your friend Chu Sing told us about Little Spring, and she told us how she saved your life. I am so grateful to her, and you should be too.”

“Yes,” said Da Ping. “Little Spring was kind to me, and I was very lucky to have gone to see her that day. But how do you know Chu Sing?”

“He was at our father’s store looking for money or opium. I thought he was a thief, but he said he knew you.”

“Good old Chu Sing! And where is he now?”

Su-Mei looked away. “He died of an overdose soon after we found him.”

“Oh! I didn’t know he was addicted.” Da Ping thought it wise to pretend to know nothing about anyone who smoked opium. He himself was miserable at the fort because he could only get the worst grades of the drug, and sometimes not even that. Little Spring had given him some silver before he left Canton, and he’d spent almost all of it on opium. On the salary of a first-year recruit, all he could afford were leftovers scraped from other people’s pipes and low-grade stuff that had been cut with tobacco, and he was only able to buy that when he was on leave. He was barely able to function and had no appetite.

“What happened to you, Little Brother? You’ve lost so much weight—you look terrible!” Su-Mei said to change the subject. “And what happened to your face?”

“You wouldn’t look so good if you had to go through what I’ve been through,” Da Ping replied crossly. He fingered the angry scar on his cheek. “I got this when a cannon exploded—a scrap of metal flew into my face. It almost hit my eye!” He shuddered to impress Su-Mei with the seriousness of his injury. In truth, when the other soldiers heard the warning crack of the defective cannon, they’d all dropped to the platform and covered their faces with their arms. But Da Ping had been concentrating on the mental list, shorter every day, of comrades who were still willing to lend him a little money or share their opium with him. He hadn’t even heard the explosion.

“I’ve been through a lot too, Brother, believe me. But let’s forget about that for now. You need to sneak out of here tonight so we can get on a ship and go to England. They’ll kill us if we stay.”

“England?” Da Ping’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to go and live with the foreign devils? Are you crazy? Why?”

“Because these foreign devils saved my life and they are nice people. I’ve learned a lot about them, and they’re not what we were taught. An Englishman helped me get to Canton from Macau to find Father and then here to find you. He is a good man, and we are going to be married.”

Da Ping stared at her, incredulous. “You want to marry a foreign devil? And leave our home? I think you must be crazy. Our ancestors will curse you! Our parents will haunt you if you do that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that even allowed, to marry a foreign devil?”

“Little Brother, in case you’ve forgotten, there are people who want to kill us both. So, yes, I’m leaving our home. And Mr. Heegan, my husband-to-be, is a good man. I can depend on him, which is more than I can say for anyone else right now. You have to come with me so we can start a new life in England.”

“No way,” said Da Ping flatly. “I’m not leaving my homeland to go far away and live with barbarians!” He drew himself up straight and stuck out his chest. “And you aren’t either.”

Su-Mei decided to ignore his last comment. You’re not Father, she thought. Father is dead. “What will you do then, Brother? Stay here and be a poor soldier for the rest of your life?”

“Yes, yes, I will. I would rather be a soldier in my homeland than a nobody in some foreign land. I like it here, and General Kwan is a great leader. I’m finally doing something meaningful for the first time in my life, Big Sister. My old life is gone—I’m not that spoiled rich boy anymore.”

“But you are the only family I have! I can’t leave you here by yourself,” Su-Mei cried.

“Then stay here in Fu-Moon,” he said. “I get one day off every half month; you can visit then. I’ve missed you so much ever since Honorable Father separated us, and I thought I would never see you again. Now I have no one except you, so you mustn’t go away and leave me here all by myself!” His tone abruptly changed from arrogance to pleading.

“Little Brother, we are both fugitives. Our own people want to kill us for our father’s crimes, so please, tell me how staying here is going to help our situation! I really think you should come to England with me. It will be difficult at first, but we can adapt. And we won’t be alone—we’ll have Mr. Heegan.”

Da Ping sighed heavily. There was no way he could leave Fu-Moon. Not because of patriotism or fear of life in a new and strange land, but because he was addicted to opium, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to find any among the foreign devils. It was true that they brought it here, but not from England. The customs officers his father bribed had told him it came from another land called India. “Big Sister,” he said gently, “I have always listened to you, and you have been right so many times, but I have to stay here. I can’t explain it, but being a soldier is important to me. Maybe not forever, but right now, I can’t go.”

“Little Brother, I’m proud of you! You’ve grown up! It takes courage and discipline to be a soldier. And General Kwan is a good man. But you really must think about your future. There is so much tension between England and China now, and I’m afraid it will get worse. Fu-Moon will be a very dangerous place if that happens. Are you ready to go to war?”

Da Ping glanced toward the barracks. “Our time is up, Big Sister. Look, men are waving at you to leave now.” He walked her to the gates and said goodbye. Wen Jing had left some time ago, but Higgins was waiting there to introduce himself to Da Ping.

Higgins bowed to the thin young man in an ill-fitting soldier’s uniform. With the exception of a round birthmark at his temple, a crimson scar across his cheekbone, and a few hairs above his upper lip, he was the spitting image of Su-Mei. “Hello, Da Ping, my name is Travers Higgins. I am pleased to meet you,” he called through the gate, pronouncing the Chinese words carefully.

Da Ping’s face was blank. He hadn’t understood a word of what the foreign devil said, and he nearly laughed out loud at the sight of him dressed as a Chinese man, queue and all.

“Little Brother, this man is my future husband and your future brother-in-law. He is a good man, and I wouldn’t be here without him.”

Da Ping nodded, waved and smiled at Higgins, then walked back toward the barracks to get some sleep. It had been a long night shift and an eventful morning, and he had only the tiniest scraps of opium resin left to get him through the day.

Su-Mei hadn’t eaten breakfast, and she was starving. She and Higgins sat down at a food stall with huge bowls of fragrant, steaming noodles. She made him sit with his back to the crowd so no one could see his face or notice how he struggled with his chopsticks.

“My dearest,” Higgins said quietly, “we cannot stay here. Sooner or later, someone will see that I am not Chinese or recognize you. And I need to report back to Captain Robertson. My ship is due to sail home soon, and I’d like you and your brother to be on it so we can start our new life together in England.”

Su-Mei looked stricken. “Da Ping stay soja. My ony famalee! I no leave go Engand not with he.”

Higgins sighed. The possibility that Su-Mei might refuse to leave without her brother had occurred to him, but he had preferred not to think about it. “Well, while we plan what to do next, we must find a place to stay.” One with a bed, he thought, and then was ashamed of his priorities.

When they had finished eating, Su-Mei went to find Wen Jing. “Master Wen, thank you again for letting me help you! I hope I didn’t get you into trouble. All the hard work and cuts were worth it to see my brother. And you were right about General Kwan.” Wen grunted and bowed his head, a little embarrassed by her gratitude. “And now I would like to stay in Fu-Moon for a little while so I can visit him again when he has leave. Do you know of any place I can stay that won’t cost very much?”

Master Wen thought for a moment. “I do know a cottage you could rent, but it’s a little distance from town. Will you mind the long walk?”

“I won’t mind the walk so much if the rent is affordable.” Inwardly, Su-Mei was thrilled. The farther from town they were, the safer they would be.

“My cousin owns the cottage. He moved to Canton and hasn’t been able to rent it out because it’s so far from town. He asked me to take care of it and try to find a tenant. That means you, young lady, will have to negotiate the rent with me!” He grinned and winked. He liked the idea of keeping San San around as his apprentice.

“Oh, thank you, Master Wen! How many blades will I have to sharpen to pay my rent?” Su-Mei grinned back.

“What about this, young San San? I will bring you knives to be sharpened when I need extra help, and I will pay you a fair price for your labor, which you can apply to the rent. But if I don’t have work for you, then you can pay me, say, fifty copper coins a month?”

“That is a fair deal! Thank you, master.” Su-Mei gave Wen Jing a courteous bow. “When may I see this cottage?”

“I am nearly finished here,” he said. “I can take you now.”

Higgins stayed in Fu-Moon at the Buddhist temple, keeping an eye on their wheelbarrow of silver, until Su-Mei returned. He was beginning to worry about reporting back to Captain Robertson. The winds wouldn’t hold for much longer, and if the ship didn’t sail soon, they would all be stuck outside Canton for months, possibly in the middle of a naval battle, and many British merchants would miss their shipments of Chinese goods. He hoped his and Su-Mei’s descriptions of the fort’s defenses would be enough to appease Chief Superintendent Elliot.

The house was perfect. It was about an hour’s walk from Fu-Moon, very comfortable and very secluded. Su-Mei walked back as fast as she could to tell Higgins the good news.

“Oh, Tavis, house good! We stay Fu-Moon, safe. Far away town.”

Higgins smiled, happy to forget about the Scaleby Castle and his duties for a time. “Excellent news! When can we go there?”

“Soon. Long walk.” Su-Mei was more grateful than ever for her strong, uncrippled feet. Her blisters were starting to heal and form hard calluses, and she found she enjoyed taking long walks, especially with Higgins by her side. They bought fresh vegetables, dried meat, rice, and some other supplies, loaded them into the wheelbarrow, and began the long trek to the house.

This silver isn’t getting any lighter, Higgins thought. But it was a fine, clear evening, and he was strolling through farmland with his beloved by his side, so he soon forgot about the aches in his shoulders and thighs.

“My darling, you know I can’t stay in Fu-Moon very much longer,” said Higgins the next morning after a lengthy and relaxed breakfast. “Do you think you will be safe alone here?”

Su-Mei frowned. Alone? Higgins is leaving me? “Why you no stay, Tavas?”

“You know I would like nothing better than to stay here with you, but I must report back to the ship.” He paused, trying to choose the best words. “And then I must sail for England, so if you will not come with me now, I’m afraid you must stay here until I can return for you, and I don’t know when that will be. It will most likely take a year, and that’s if there isn’t a great bloody row between my country and yours and China refuses to let us back in.” Change your mind, he willed her silently. Leave your brother to his general and cannons.

Su-Mei’s eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t choose between the man she loved and her little brother. Could she? “I no leave Da Ping now.”

Higgins sighed. “I understand, dearest, but I must go, with or without you.”

“You no come back,” she said softly, turning her head away. “We no mally.”

“Of course I will come back! Dearest love, I will come back for you as soon as ever I can. I promise you, on my honor, that I will return, and we will be married. I’d marry you today if you’d allow it. I love you! You have my heart, my darling girl.”

Su-Mei buried her face in Higgins’s shoulder, weeping at the idea of long months without him but also savoring the sweet words of love. “When you must go ship?”

“In two days’ time. If I wait any longer, I’ll be in trouble!” He caressed her back gently.

“You come back,” murmured Su-Mei. “I waiting here.”

They spent the next two days happily nesting in the house outside Fu-Moon, the cottage where no one ever came, which was quite all right with the two lovers. Master Wen Jing had no need for his apprentice with the lily-white hands of a lady, so their time was their own.

On the third day, Su-Mei took Higgins to the waterfront and paid four taels of silver—three times the usual price—for a chop boat to bring him directly to the Scaleby Castle, lying at anchor in the Bogue. They had already said their goodbyes before leaving the house, and now there was nothing left to say and it was time to part. Tears blurred Su-Mei’s eyes as she watched the chop boat carrying the person she loved most in the world slip away from Fu-Moon and disappear into the morning fog.

Chapter Nineteen

Macau, 1839

“Sister Maria! What are you still doing here?” Mother Amanda halted abruptly, blocking the hallway.

Pai Chu, her mind fuzzy from lack of sleep, stared at Mother Amanda.

“I saw Sister Su-Mei leave. Why did you not go with her to Canton? How is she getting there?”

“Mother Amanda, she went with the Englishman, Mr. Higgins. I tried to convince her not to go, but she insisted. She wouldn’t let me go with her because Mr. Higgins told her that the captain of the ship only allowed one extra passenger. I am convinced he was lying to her, and I believe he will take advantage of her. I am so worried! I pray for her safety every night.”

“I will pray as well,” said Mother Amanda. “God will guide her to her family if she is meant to find them.”

Pai Chu saw her opportunity and took it. “Mother Amanda, I am so worried about Sister Su-Mei, and I fear she will not be safe with this Englishman. May I have permission to go to Canton? She will need all the help she can get.”

“You have never been to Canton, my child—how will you find her, and how could you help?”

“God will guide me, Mother Amanda. I know I will find Sister Su-Mei if you let me go,” Pai Chu pleaded.

Mother Amanda gazed at the novice before her, weighing her decision. “I believe it was God’s design that brought you and Sister Su-Mei together. Therefore, I must believe that the two of you are instruments of his will. Yes, Sister Maria, you must go to Canton and find Sister Su-Mei. Help her stay out of trouble until the authorities lose interest in her and her family. If it is still dangerous for her in Canton, then bring her back here. I know that you know how to take care of yourself. All the same, I will give you the names of some friends of the church who will offer you a place to stay and help you with your inquiries.”

Mother Amanda gave Pai Chu ten taels of silver and accompanied her to the waterfront, where she rented a chop boat to take her to Canton. Pai Chu prayed for guidance to find Su-Mei, and that was the best plan she had. Her mind, ordinarily so sharp and clear, was clouded with love and with the constant pain in her stomach. Heavenly Father, she prayed, let me find my dearest Su-Mei and bring her back to the convent, where I can keep her safe. Protect both your servants from the wicked foreign devils who would do us harm.

The chop boat let her off at the docks, not far from the foreigners’ factories. Pai Chu could feel the tension in the air as soon as she stepped on land. Unlike Macau, there were no Westerners roaming around. She stopped at a street stall to buy some tea. “Where are all the foreigners?” she asked as she paid.

“Where have you been, young lady?” asked the old man. “Haven’t you heard about the crackdown on opium and how Special Emissary Lin is finally getting rid of the poison?” He spat into the street.

“No, sir, I’m from Macau. I’ve only heard rumors of what happened. Can you fill me in?”

The street was quiet, and the tea seller had no other customers at the moment. “Well, you heard about Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu, sent by our Celestial Emperor, yes? He is not afraid of the foreign devils, and, more importantly, he’s not corrupt. He’s been cracking down on opium! He’s executed many criminals involved with it and arrested as many people as he can find who are in the trade—even the pipe makers are in jail!”

Pai Chu nodded and smiled. “Opium is an evil drug. Special Emissary Lin is a good man,” she said to keep him going.

“Did you know that he arrested the biggest opium dealer in Canton? Executed him and his family right there near the foreign devils’ factory compound!”

Pau Chi gasped.

“Yes, everyone was shocked because this dealer happened to be Lee Shao Lin, the son of our most noble and loyal guan, Lee Man Ho, who served our kingdom so honorably. It’s a blessing that he died suddenly in Peking. It saved him the shame of being executed too for his son’s crimes. Their ancestors must be so angry—the family name is now completely ruined!”

Panicking, Pai Chu interrupted. “You say the entire family of Lee Shao Lin was executed?”

“Yes, young lady, right there in the square facing the foreign devils’ factory.” He gestured in the direction of the compound. “I was there—everyone in the city was there. The heads of Lee Shao Lin, his wife and concubines, and the concubines’ children were chopped right off and rolled across the square.”

“Didn’t Lee Shao Lin have children with his Number One Wife?” Pai Chu asked, trying to sound as though she was just making conversation. “A daughter, I heard, right?”

“Yes, he did—a daughter and a son,” replied the old man. “They’re still looking for them, and there’s a reward for anyone who has information on their whereabouts. Why? Do you know anything? Tell me! We can share the reward.”

“Oh, no, sir. Sorry, I don’t know anything. I just heard rumors that he had other children. You know how people like to gossip.”

“Well, keep your ears open in case you hear anything useful,” the man suggested. “More tea, miss?”

“No, thank you. I must be going. And thank you for the information!”

Pai Chu hurried away before the smile of relief broke out across her face. Su-Mei was still alive! And the authorities didn’t know where she was. I must start at the factories, she decided. She rarely spoke with Westerners if she could help it. She was confident that most of them, if not all, were bad people. She hated sailors most of all because of what had happened to her mother, and now another sailor was doing his best to deceive the only person she loved. Maybe Higgins took Su-Mei to the factories so he could feel safe among his own people.

Charles Elliot was standing on the balcony scanning the horizon with his binoculars when a voice from below interrupted him. “Sir, may I speak with you? It is a matter of utmost urgency!”

He glanced down and saw a Chinese woman looking up at him expectantly. Well, well, a Chinese who can speak proper English. Out loud, he answered her. “Please wait a moment, miss. I’ll be down directly.” Still carrying the binoculars, he trotted down the stairs and strode to the gates, intrigued. Who is this woman? Who sent her here?

“Sir, my name is Sister Maria, and I am from St. Anthony’s Church in Macau.”

“Ah, yes, I know Mother Amanda.” He nodded at the guard, who opened the gate. “Please enter, Sister Maria. I am Chief Superintendent Charles Elliot. May I offer you some tea upstairs?”

Pai Chu whispered a brief prayer of thanks. “Thank you, no, Chief Superintendent Elliot.” She followed him up the stairs and took a seat in front of a massive teak desk in his office.

Elliot seated himself across from her. “And how may I be of service, Sister Maria? What brings you to Canton?”

“Sir, Mother Amanda sent me here to look for Sister Su-Mei, the daughter of Lee Shao Lin. She left for Canton in the company of a British sailor, a Mr. Higgins, and has not returned. We are concerned for her safety.”

“Travers Higgins is the name, Sister Maria. Yes, he and Miss Lee were here just a few days ago, but they are not here anymore.”

“Can you tell me where they went?”

“They went to look for the lady’s brother, who is apparently stationed in Fu-Moon.”

“Fu-Moon? Where is that?”

“It’s a fort at the mouth of the Pearl River, about fifty miles away. I suppose you’ll be on your way there next?”

“Yes, sir, I must find them,” Pai Chu said. “Might you be able to tell me the best way?”

“I might, young lady, and I will. You can get there by land or by water, but the river is faster. Either way, you won’t get there today. I’ll have someone escort you to the docks in the morning.” He smiled and folded his hands together. “You are most welcome to stay here tonight as Her Majesty’s guest. We have plenty of comfortable rooms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Elliot. I appreciate your kind hospitality.” So far, her search for Su-Mei was going much better than she’d anticipated. God must be guiding me, she thought.

“If I may ask, how did you learn to speak such excellent English, Sister Maria?”

“I was raised in the orphanage,” replied Pai Chu. “Mother Amanda has been a wonderful teacher to me.”

“And your parents? If I am not mistaken, you are of European extraction.”

“My mother was raped by a British sailor,” said Pai Chu flatly. “I am the result of that assault. Are there any more questions you’d like to ask me, sir?”

Elliot coughed and his already red face turned purple. “My most profound apologies, Sister. I meant no offense, truly.”

Pai Chu, once again distracted by the pain, realized with horror what she had just said. “No, it is I who must apologize, sir. Please forgive me for my outburst! And after you’ve been so kind and helpful!”

“Don’t give it another thought, I beg you, my dear.” Elliot steered the conversation in a different direction, fearing the young nun might burst into tears. “May I ask who is Miss Lee to you and Mother Amanda?”

“She is my best friend, sir, and Mother Amanda is very fond of her as well. She is a recent convert to our faith and her favorite pupil.” Pai Chu felt her mood improve and her pain fade just by talking about Su-Mei.

“I see, and Mr. Higgins? Where does he fit into the picture?”

“Sister Su-Mei taught Mr. Higgins some Chinese, although he didn’t learn very much. It is more accurate to say that Sister Su-Mei improved her English by conversing with Mr. Higgins while he was on shore leave in Macau.” Pai Chu sat up a little straighter. “She first studied English with me.”

“Well, I’ve heard of worse ways to meet one’s wife.” Elliot chuckled. “Sister Maria, it has been my sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope we may dine together this evening. I expect you’ll have little trouble finding your friend and Mr. Higgins; Fu-Moon is a small place. When you do, kindly tell Mr. Higgins to report back to his ship immediately. Captain Robertson has half a mind to charge him with desertion.”

“Yes, sir, I will tell him that,” she said, hoping secretly that Higgins would be tossed into prison forever. “And thank you again for your assistance and for your kind offer of dinner, but I am fasting as an act of devotion to the Virgin.” This had become her favorite excuse to avoid eating—and possibly vomiting—in front of other people. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to show me where I am to sleep tonight? I have had a long day of travel, and I would like to rest and perform some spiritual exercises.”

“God!” Pai Chu screamed, flinging her rosary against the wall. She felt poisoned with rage and knew she would never sleep that night. Wife? Did he really say “wife”? That beast of a foreigner was forcing Su-Mei to marry him! The thought of him spending all that time with Su-Mei, almost certainly unchaperoned, made her feel helpless, angry, and jealous at once. I will kill that foreign devil if he dares touch my Su-Mei, Pai Chu swore to herself.

Fu-Moon was a dirty little town along a dirty river, and Pai Chu was heartsick at the sight of it. She had arrived in Canton full of hope despite the difficulty of locating Su-Mei in a big city. Now, in this small place, she felt utterly dejected. She had no idea where to find Su-Mei or this brother of hers. A helpful woman with a cart full of vegetables for sale pointed her in the direction of the fort, and waiting outside on the chance that Su-Mei might visit her brother seemed like the best option. It would be the easiest, anyway, and Pai Chu was exhausted.

Please, God, send Su-Mei here to me, she prayed. Let me protect her and take her away from this dreary place.

She passed the time sitting on a low stone wall, watching the soldiers through the bars of the gate and wondering which one was Su-Mei’s brother, and if being a soldier in the army was anything like being a novice or a nun in a religious order. Did the soldiers feel comforted by their purpose and the structure in their lives? Did they look forward to fighting and dying for their homeland? Or were they, as she suspected, a lot of frightened, uneducated farm boys who had only joined up to get regular meals and a roof over their heads?

Night came, and Su-Mei did not. Pai Chu rented the cheapest room at the only inn in Fu-Moon and stayed up most of the night praying and trying to ignore the pain in her chest.

“Good morning, San San!” Master Wen called as he knocked at the door of the rented cottage. “Would you like some work today? I’ve got another order from the fort to sharpen swords, knives, and spears, and I bet your fingers are all healed up.”

Su-Mei opened the door, happy to see anyone at all other than the crows in the garden. Higgins had been gone for three days, and it felt like three years. She passed the time teaching herself to cook simple meals, relying on her scanty memories of sneaking into the kitchen of her childhood home and watching the servants from a corner. It was not going well; all the vegetables she cooked were raw and tasteless, and the cottage smelled of charred rice. She longed for noodles but didn’t have the slightest notion of how they were made. If she hadn’t watched Master Wen Jing light the kitchen fire for her the first time, she wouldn’t have been able to cook anything at all.

“Good morning, Master Wen! May I offer you some tea after your long walk?”

Wen Jing followed her into the small, tidy house and gratefully accepted a cup of tea.

“Master, I would be happy to sharpen some more weapons for you whenever you wish. I’m so grateful to you for helping me get in to see my brother.”

“What a relief!” He finished his tea and added, “I wonder what’s going on. General Kwan has been drilling his soldiers day and night, getting ready for something, and now he wants all these weapons made razor-sharp. I hope they’re not expecting trouble with the foreign devils—I heard there was some trouble in Canton with the foreign opium smugglers and the local dealers.”

He paused, not sure he should share such a gruesome story with a young woman, but the gossip was too juicy to keep to himself. “Did you hear this special emissary executed the entire family of the biggest dealer? And he’s the son of a high-ranking noble guan in Peking, so that must mean the emperor is serious about finally getting rid of the poison the foreign devils have been bringing in for so long.” He shook his head. “I can’t remember the last time a whole family was executed.” He noticed that his apprentice was looking even paler than usual. “Oh, San San, forgive me! I shouldn’t have told you such an awful story! You look unwell, young lady.”

Su-Mei struggled to put the images of her family’s execution out of her mind. “It’s nothing, Master Wen. I just feel so sorry for the opium dealer’s family. How horrible for his wife and children!” She smiled weakly and willed the tears not to fall. “Did you carry those swords all this way? I’ll get started on them right now.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow at noon, and you can help me bring these into the fort. Hey, maybe you’ll get lucky and see your brother again.”

“They’ll be ready, master,” Su-Mei replied. “And I feel lucky already.”

Pai Chu had been coming to the entrance of the fort every day for a week since her arrival in Fu-Moon. She sat at the same place, one that gave her the best view of the entrance, every day from midmorning until sunset, when she returned to the inn for a joyless meal of broth and congee and another sleepless night. She began to worry that she would run out of money before Su-Mei appeared. God would not let that happen. He will reunite us. And she has to come visit her brother sometime.

One rainy morning she almost decided not to come at all, to instead stay in her room at the inn all day with her rosary and her fears. At the last moment, she dressed and rushed out into the cold, damp street, only to see Su-Mei walking alongside a man, pushing a handcart stacked with swords and spears. The man carried a long spear across his shoulders with baskets full of knives hanging off each end.

Her heart began to pound. “Su-Mei!” Pai Chu shouted. “Oh, Su-Mei, thank God I’ve found you!”

Su-Mei tried to signal her friend to keep quiet, but Pai Chu was overcome with excitement and rushed into the street to embrace her, crying her name. Su-Mei put her arms around Pai Chu, shouting “Dear cousin!” She whispered into Pai Chu’s ear, “Call me San San. Don’t ask questions.”

Pai Chu nodded. “San San, I have been waiting for you here for a week!”

“Who is this woman, San San?” Wen Jing asked, confused.

“This is my cousin from Canton, Pai Chu,” she said. “When I was young and always getting sick, the fortune-teller told my parents to change my name to fool the evil spirits into leaving me alone. My birth name is Lo Su-Mei. It has been so long since we’ve seen each other, and Pai Chu was so excited to see me that she forgot to use my good luck name.”

Wen Jing nodded and smiled. It was a common practice to change a child’s name to improve his or her fortune. “So should I call you San San or Su-Mei?”

“Please call me San San—that’s the name that has kept me alive and healthy so far.” Su-Mei smiled, but she felt the weighty truth of those words.

Pai Chu had kept quiet during the explanation, but she could no longer contain herself. “Cousin San San, you have no idea how worried I’ve been. I am so relieved to finally find you!”

“Well, you know I came here because my brother Ming Ming is here. I came to tell him about Honorable Father, but I decided to stay for a while.”

“How is Cousin Ming Ming?” asked Pai Chu. Questions were flooding her mind, but she bit them back. There would be plenty of time to find out everything once they were alone.

“He is well,” said Su-Mei. “But I must help Master Wen bring these weapons inside the fort now. Why don’t you wait here for me, and then we can talk? I want to hear all your news!”

“Can’t I come in with you, Cousin San San? I can help carry your baskets, and I have missed you—and Cousin Ming Ming—so much.”

Su-Mei shook her head quickly and looked meaningfully at the knife sharpener. “No, I am sorry, cousin. The general is very strict about visitors. I’ll return very soon.”

“I will be waiting right here when you do.” Pai Chu’s face blazed with emotion. Su-Mei thought she might cry or burst out laughing right there in the street.

What is wrong with her? Su-Mei wondered, but she had no time to think about it because Master Wen Jing was at the gates to the fort, waiting for her to catch up.

It was very rare that a woman was seen inside the fort, and certainly never one as young and beautiful as Su-Mei, so she attracted the attention of several men who were off duty, who promptly alerted their comrades. Before long, dozens of soldiers seemed to have urgent business in the quadrangle. Da Ping was among them.

“Big Sister!” Da Ping was there beside her as soon as she’d set the cart handles down. “I’m so happy to see you—did you bring any silver?”

“I’m happy to see you too, Little Brother,” she said. “Why do you need silver? Don’t they pay you?”

“I just need it, Sister. I lost all my pay gambling with the guys, and now I need to repay them.” Da Ping looked thinner than ever, and his face was pinched and grayish.

“When did you start gambling, Little Brother? You know it’s a terrible habit!”

Da Ping scowled. “Everyone here gambles when they’re off duty. If you don’t join in, you can’t make any friends. I don’t need a lecture—I just need money! Please,” he added, trying to soften his tone.

Su-Mei, a little startled, pulled out the pouch she carried in her waistband. She opened it to show the five taels of silver inside and was about to ask Da Ping how much he needed when he grabbed all of it.

“Thank you, Big Sister. I will repay you soon.”

She waved the idea away. “How often do you get leave?”

“We get one day every half month. Why do you ask?”

“So I can bring you to the cottage I’m renting and we can spend some time together, silly!”

Da Ping looked uncomfortable. “I usually have plans with the guys. We look forward to it. We can have dinner if you’d like, but I’ll be busy during the day.”

“Very well.” Su-Mei tried to hide her disappointment and hurt. “So when is your next leave?”

“In three days.”

“Then I will be here in the late afternoon, and we can have dinner at the inn. I really want to talk to you,” she said, hoping he would get the hint.

“Sure, that sounds good,” he said absently. Da Ping had dropped the silver into his trouser pocket, and now he held a palm over it, as if fearing it would fly away.

“San San! Time to go now,” called Wen Jing from the gate.

“I’ll see you soon, Little Brother,” said Su-Mei. “Try not to gamble away all your money before then.” She forced a smile and followed the knife sharpener out.

“Thank you, San San. Here are ten copper coins for your hard work,” said Wen Jing. “I’ll leave you now so you can catch up with your cousin.” He took the handles of the cart from Su-Mei and trundled off to his usual spot on the street. “Nice to meet you, miss,” he called to Pai Chu, who had appeared, as promised, as soon as they were outside the gates.

“Where is Higgins?” were Pai Chu’s first words. She entwined Su-Mei’s arm in her own, pulling her a little off balance. Su-Mei wanted to pull away but didn’t want to upset her.

“Mr. Higgins had to return to his ship. He is sailing back to England. And oh, Pai Chu, I have the most wonderful—”

“Good,” Pai Chu interrupted. “So he is not here with you? Where are you staying? With the knife sharpener?”

“No, I’ve rented a cottage here so I can be close to my brother. Pai Chu, I—”

“Su-Mei, you are so smart and resourceful! You found your brother, and you even managed to find a house to rent!” Pai Chu was talking quickly and not looking at Su-Mei as they walked.

Su-Mei tried not to roll her eyes. “You know I couldn’t have done it without Mr. Heegan. Pai Chu, listen to me. I love him, and I’m going to go to England with him as soon as I can convince Da Ping to come with us. We’re going to be married!”

Pai Chu stopped dead on the dirt track. The wind blew through the tall grass on either side, oxen lowed in the field across from them, and seabirds flew screaming above. She heard none of it. She stood still, breathing heavily, staring at the ground.

“Pai Chu? Are you all right? Are you in pain?” Pai Chu had finally let her arm drop, and Su-Mei gently patted her shoulder.

“Marry him?” Pai Chu choked out. “A foreign devil?”

“Don’t call him that! He is a good man, and I love him.”

“Oh, Su-Mei, you can’t marry him,” said Pai Chu as though Su-Mei had announced she could fly. “I don’t even think it’s legal. And what if you do follow him to England, and he takes advantage of you, and then leaves you all alone in a foreign land with nothing?” She wanted to shake her. “Come back to Macau where you belong. You’ll have me and Mother Amanda and St. Anthony’s. Your brother will be fine here, and you can forget all about this Mr. Higgins, just like he’s probably already forgotten about you.”

“No, Pai Chu, you are so wrong about him. He has proven to me again and again that he loves me, and he is the only person I can rely on now.”

“The only person?”

“I mean, besides you, of course,” Su-Mei added lamely.

“Su-Mei, I would die for you. I almost did—don’t you remember?”

Su-Mei’s face burned with shame and a little trickle of anger that Pai Chu had chosen to remind her. “Yes, I do remember, and I will forever be grateful that you saved my life. And I’m so happy we’re sisters now.”

Pai Chu ground her teeth together.

“We’re here!” said Su-Mei with a gaiety she didn’t feel. “Look, there’s my house—and your house too, for as long as you’re staying.”

There was an unspoken question in her words, but Pai Chu chose to ignore it. She also decided to ignore the unkind things Su-Mei had said about not relying on her and leaving her for this foreign devil. We’ll have this time together, she reminded herself. And I’ll prove to her that I’m the only one who really loves her, the only one she needs.

Three days later, Su-Mei was waiting for Da Ping to arrive at the inn, the only real restaurant in Fu-Moon. It was shabby but clean, and she sniffed appreciatively at the aromas of garlic, hot peppers, and frying fish emanating from the kitchen. Pai Chu had stayed home, complaining of an upset stomach, and truthfully, Su-Mei was happy to have some time away from her. She wasn’t like this in Macau, she thought. We used to have so much fun together!

The time passed, and Su-Mei feared Da Ping wasn’t coming, but then she saw his gangly soldier’s body trot across the street, dodging the mud puddles, and into the inn. “Hello, Big Sister! Here I am!”

Su-Mei smiled to see him in such a good mood. “Hello, Little Brother. How are you? Did you enjoy your day out with your friends?”

Da Ping blinked. “What? Oh! Right. Yes, it was great. We men need to get out of the barracks sometimes and forget about this madness with the foreign devils.” He played with the vinegar bottle on the table. “Sister, I’m sorry to have to ask you again, but I lost a lot of money gambling this afternoon, and I need to pay my debt. I’ll need some more silver.”

“Brother,” Su-Mei said with some irritation. “I am not Father. I don’t have silver hidden in every room, and in case you didn’t notice, I have to pay for everything myself now. I make a few copper coins sharpening knives. Look at the cuts on my hands!” She held them out, palms forward. “You have a salary. I don’t. Why don’t you stop gambling and do something useful on your days off, like coming to my house and helping me with chores? I’ve learned to cook a little, and I would love to make dinner for you at my house instead of spending money eating in an inn.”

“What do you know about being in the army, Sister?” Da Ping snorted. “Soldiers support each other. Gambling is a great distraction from the hard work and the threat of war, and I need to play to be accepted by the more experienced soldiers. The recruits who don’t gamble have it a lot harder than the rest.”

Su-Mei sighed. “I don’t know anything about being a soldier, but our lives are different now, and when you’re out of the army, you’ll need to know how to save your money.”

Da Ping grimaced at the vinegar bottle and didn’t reply. A waiter arrived with dishes and set them down expertly between them. She noticed that Da Ping only pretended to eat, pushing the pork and vegetables around with his chopsticks, which irritated her even more because now she was paying for his gambling debts and his wasted food.

Yes, the silver from her father’s shop would last her a long time if she only spent it on food and necessities. She’d bought some seedlings and planted a vegetable garden so she could spend even less. She didn’t know how long she would have to stay in Fu-Moon, but she knew Higgins wouldn’t be able to return for some time. He’d told her that the voyage to England and back took four months each way, and he could only return if and when the British were trading with China, which seemed unlikely if they couldn’t sell their cargo of opium. He swore to her that even if he couldn’t get on a trading ship, he’d sail to China as a passenger. “Nothing will stop us from being together,” he’d said. And anyway, she wasn’t leaving for England without Da Ping. She prayed every night that he would change his mind and agree to sail to England with her and Higgins. My husband, she thought fondly.

Chapter Twenty

London, 1839

William Jardine left China for good in January 1839. He had become one of the wealthiest men in England from years of smuggling opium, but now this special emissary had put an end to that. His new goal was to promote the use of British military force against China, and the best way to do that was to convince Parliament that the squabble over opium was in fact a matter of honor and that war with China could only benefit Britain. His efforts would complement the lobbying that the opium traders had begun months earlier to sway public opinion toward the idea that opium was a harmless substance and its sale a legitimate business. Lord Palmerston had already received word from Elliot that China was cracking down on opium, and that was a state of affairs that could not stand. So Jardine must fan the flames of war to force China to repay him and his colleagues for the twenty thousand cases of opium that Special Emissary Lin had ordered to be washed into a creek and open more ports for the purpose of free trade with the West.

As soon as he arrived in London, he went into action. His first stop was his good friend and former banker John Able Smith, now a Member of Parliament. Smith counted Lord Palmerston among his close friends and arranged for Jardine to meet with him. Palmerston proved quite receptive to Jardine’s ideas on how to deal with China; it was no surprise that he preferred to maintain the China trade and avoid the disruption to the British economy that a sudden shortage of tea and other products would have caused.

Jardine, always methodical and prepared, arrived at their meeting with specific plans. First, he suggested a blockade of all the principal ports along the Chinese coast with ships able to destroy the Chinese navy if it tried to break through. A strong expeditionary land force would then threaten an inland invasion, which would force the Chinese into negotiations. Jardine even had the terms of a treaty in mind—it would include opening the ports of Foochow, Ningpo, Shanghai, and Kiaochow to foreign trade. And if that wasn’t enough, Jardine also presented Palmerston with a memorandum outlining the specific size of the British force needed to enforce these terms. He had worked out every detail on the proposed expedition to make it easy for Parliament to justify the use of force.

But Parliament wasn’t the only front for Jardine’s campaign. He launched a public relations juggernaut to sway public opinion on the matter. National newspapers picked up the cause, presenting Jardine’s case that the Chinese had confiscated and destroyed British property, which was a direct insult to the Crown. The heathen Chinese were threatening the lives of British merchants, announced pamphlets that were suddenly available at every bookstall. Curiously, the opium trade was never mentioned in any of these publications; they appealed instead to patriotism and national honor. Some of the more daring articles hinted at retaliation for these injuries. Jardine’s plan was to generate robust public support for military action against China before Parliament even opened the debate.

Meanwhile, Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu was engaged in some diplomacy of his own. He appealed directly to Queen Victoria to put a stop to the British smugglers who were bringing an illegal drug into the Celestial Empire. His letters were never delivered.

When the debates commenced on April 7, 1840, the House of Commons heard arguments on the merits of dispatching the navy in the name of British honor and the moral imperative of restraint. It wasn’t long before the Tory minority transformed the debates into a platform to decry the incompetent handling of the China situation by the Whigs. Both parties argued passionately on the subject for three consecutive nights, and in the end, the vote was 271 to 262 to authorize an attack on China by the Royal Navy. It was Britain’s patriotic duty, the winners maintained, to defend her honor against insults perpetrated by China, although Lord Palmerston had happened to read a petition from representatives of important British trading firms in China that stated “unless measures of the government are followed up with firmness and energy, the trade with China can no longer be conducted with security to life and property, or with credit or advantage to the British nation.” The first signature at the bottom of this petition was William Jardine’s.

When the matter was brought up in the House of Lords, Prime Minister William Lamb, Lord Melbourne, remarked that opium “was probably not as dangerous an article as spirits.” The Duke of Wellington praised Captain Charles Elliot and declared that in fifty years of public service, he had not “seen insults and injuries to equal those heaped upon the English in Canton.” The measure to descend upon a reclusive nation and its antiquated defenses with the full might of the greatest naval force in the world passed easily in the House of Lords.

Lord Palmerston, in anticipation of victory in Parliament, was already preparing for deployment. Using intelligence from Jardine, he organized a two-pronged expedition force—by sea and then by land—with enough firepower to blast its way to Peking, if necessary. Powerful gunships were called in from Australia and other territories. The invasion force would include the elite sepoys of the Thirty-Seventh Regiment and thousands of soldiers and marines from the home countries. If Jardine’s reports were correct, Palmerston knew, the Chinese defenses would crumble within days.

“Peculiar weather this year, sir,” Higgins commented as he watched the skies from the upper deck of the Scaleby Castle.

“That’s a fact, Mr. Higgins. We had early typhoons, and now we’ve nearly missed the winds home.” Captain Robertson was relieved that his first officer had made it back from his rescue mission just in time to sail the Castle home. The seas were uncommonly rough, and Robertson needed a competent man to keep her on course and out of danger. He never brought it up, but he was also relieved that Higgins had come on board alone. The Chinese wife of an English sailor was no easy billet, he reckoned, alone in a foreign country with her husband at sea.

When the Scaleby Castle dropped anchor in London, Higgins received a month of leave while Jardine was busy soliciting government and popular support for an attack on China and the Jardine and Matheson Company waited to see which way the political winds would blow. Higgins took this opportunity to return home to Yorkshire. He was excited to visit his parents and announce his engagement.

Emmett and Josephine Higgins were already enormously proud of their son, who had done so well for himself that he could provide a comfortable home for them and pay for his father’s medicines, and the only thing that would make them happier, he knew, was if he married a nice girl and started a family. In fact, Josephine had already spoken with the mothers of several charming young ladies who were quite interested in that bookish lad Travers now that he was a first officer on a merchant ship with a very respectable income and good prospects.

Higgins received a hero’s welcome. He was flooded with invitations to tea and supper with local families—even the ones without marriageable daughters—who were eager to hear tales of his adventures overseas, and Higgins was happy to oblige. He regaled his hosts with the exotic sights, sounds, and smells of India: the elephants and bulls roaming the streets, the jewel-bright colors of the women’s frocks, the queer calls from the mosques, and the strange but delectable spices in the food.

Noble Chinese ladies, he told his friends and neighbors, had feet the size of a pony’s hooves and were carried everywhere. The women wore trousers, and the men wore their hair in a long plait down their back like a schoolgirl. You could buy stupendous dumplings filled with pork from a cart on the street for pennies. The beautiful silk and porcelain that was all the rage in London was offered in every shop, along with pounds of the highest quality tea—samples of which he had brought with him and distributed generously to the village ladies, which only made him more eligible in their eyes.

When the ladies retired and Higgins took a dram of whiskey with the men, he told them the stirring tale of his adventure in Macau, how a typhoon forced him and his mates to take shelter in a Chinese inn, where he inadvertently stabbed a maidservant in a drunken brawl and then saved the life of a Chinese lord when an uprooted tree fell on him. He elected to reserve the more complicated details of that night for another time.

After a week of such suppers, Higgins began to feel like a liar and summoned the courage to tell his parents about Su-Mei. He was already having difficulties fending off the attentions of the young ladies and their mothers, and it was time everyone knew he was no longer an eligible bachelor.

He would do it the next morning at breakfast, he decided. This wasn’t a conversation to have after a few whiskies. They want me to be happy, he convinced himself. They will love Su-Mei as I do when they meet her and see how beautiful and kind and intelligent she is. And she’ll be a fine, dutiful daughter-in-law, keeping the old ones company when I’m at sea.

“Mother, Father, I’ve something to tell you,” he announced the following morning as he sat down to breakfast. His parents looked up from their porridge bowls, curious. A gleam of expectation appeared in his mother’s eyes.

“Oh, Travers, let me guess—it’s the Sturgess girl, isn’t it? Or dear Abigail Marsden? Such a lovely complexion she has!”

“Well, Mother, it’s true that I have a sweetheart,” Higgins said, “and we are engaged to be married. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I met her in Macau, which is a sort of European district of China.”

“Good heavens, lad, but ye have been busy on your travels!” His father clapped him on the shoulder. “How did ye meet an English lass in China? Is her father one o’ your employers?”

“No, Father, she’s not British.”

Emmett Higgins frowned slightly. “A Continental bride, eh? Surely not American?”

Higgins straightened his spine and spoke rapidly without looking at either of his parents. “She’s Chinese, actually. Her name is Su-Mei Lee, and she is from a very noble family, quite wealthy, in fact, although her parents are dead now.” The clock above the fireplace ticked loudly in the suddenly still cottage. “She was staying in a convent in Macau—she’s a very respectable girl, raised with the utmost propriety.” He blushed briefly, thinking of their nights alone. “And she’s learning English. In fact, that’s how I got to know her. I won her in an auction.”

His father stared. “The hell you say!”

“I mean, I won Chinese lessons from her, in a church auction. She taught me Chinese, and I taught her English, and we—we fell in love.” He realized he was rambling and fell silent.

His father ignored him. “This, madam, is what comes of raisin’ up our son to be summat he ain’t. Schoolin’ and going off to sea.” He slapped the table, making the cups rattle in their saucers. “And now he’s gone off and forgot he’s bloody English!”

“Father, please—”

“Not a word, lad, not a bloody word!” Emmett jabbed a gnarled forefinger at the newspaper folded on the corner of the table. “Do ye not read the papers? These heathen yellow buggers steal Crown property and insult us and hold our people hostage, and you’ve ‘fallen in love’ wi’ one of ’em, eh?”

“Sir, no! I don’t know what the papers are saying, but the Chinese people mean us no harm. They only want us to stop bringing opium into their country. They say too many of their people are getting addicted.” Higgins recalled the cold, dead face of Chu Sing on the ground in a foul-smelling alley.

“How is that our bloody problem? Nation o’ drug addicts, and ye want to marry one! Do ye not know we’re at war with ’em?”

Higgins dropped the spoon he’d just lifted. “War?”

“Aye, war! And not a moment too soon. So I’ll not hear any more bloody talk of ye marryin’ one o’ them China ladies. Bloody murderers and thieves and drug addicts, like to kill us all.”

“Och, Travers, what’s wrong with a nice Yorkshire girl, eh?” his mother asked. “This Sue May Leigh, she won’t know at all how to keep house for you, and she’ll be so lonely when you’re gone to sea. And think of the children, lad—schoolboys can be so cruel.”

Schoolboys aren’t the only ones, thought Higgins. “If you’ll excuse me, Mother, I’m off for a bit of a walk.” As he passed his father, he snatched the newspaper, folded it, and stuffed it in his pocket. He needed a moment alone to collect his thoughts and corral his emotions before bringing up the subject again.

The newspaper echoed all of his father’s sentiments in high-flying rhetoric about insults to the Crown and malicious undermining of the British economy. The Chinese were painted as a race of traitorous, vicious cowards, somehow both uncivilized thugs and effete, manipulative aristocrats who detested foreigners and yet craved their money to support their hedonistic, depraved lifestyle. They had desecrated British symbols, held British subjects hostage, and stolen the property of honest British merchants. They were liars and xenophobes, and they had outlawed the good works of pious Christian missionaries, preferring to wallow in sin and worship their ancestors instead of the Lord. Higgins shook his head sadly. Of course his father would be outraged at the idea of bringing one of these savages into the family. No doubt Parliament, fed on a diet of such lies, would authorize a show of force to protect the British economy and uphold the honor of queen and country. He would have felt even more dejected had he known that these lies were sown by his own employer, Mr. Jardine.

By the time he returned to the empty cottage, Higgins had realized he would never be able to make his parents understand his decision to marry Su-Mei. There was nothing left to do but find a way back to China so he could be with her. He left a quick note for his parents, packed his kit, and set off, hoping to hitch a ride with a farmer to the newly built railway station in York. If he hurried, he could just make it to London before the Jardine and Matheson offices closed for the day.

“All ships are on hold pending Mr. Jardine’s instructions, First Officer Higgins,” the clerk informed him. “Particularly now that war may break out.”

“What about other ships sailing for China?” Higgins asked.

“Plenty of navy ships preparing for action, and I expect Jack would welcome someone with your China experience and navigational skills. Your packet won’t be nearly as fat, but if it’s action you’re after, Jack’s your man. Wait a moment!”

The clerk searched his desk briefly before coming up with a sheet of manila paper. “Here it is. The Wellesley—that’s Admiral Maitland’s ship—is in need of skilled officers, and you’re more than qualified as an India and China hand, but she’s in India just now for repairs. If you’re interested, report to Naval Headquarters and enlist.”

“But I’m still on the rolls with Jardine and Matheson; I can’t just bugger off to join the navy, can I?” said Higgins.

“Sir, Mr. Jardine is promoting this war, and Parliament will soon vote to authorize it—it’s the only way to save his business. And considering the merchant ships are lying to for the foreseeable future, I expect he wouldn’t object. Why are you so on fire to get back to China anyway, sir?”

Higgins considered explaining but decided against it. “Supposing I do enlist, how shall I get to India to meet the Wellesley?”

“No trouble there, sir! Jack is sending dozens of supply ships to the Orient in anticipation of war.”

Higgins had heard of the Wellesley. Seventy-four guns, and she’d seen action in Karachi in an eerily similar skirmish in which the East India Company had used her to attack a mud fort to induce the locals to enter into a contract they didn’t want. The Wellesley was a fine example of the muscle the Royal Navy could flex when colonists and heathens needed some convincing.

Upon enlisting Higgins found himself almost immediately an officer of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, first lieutenant on loan from Jardine and Matheson. His duties were to be assigned by Admiral Maitland as soon as he boarded the Wellesley in India. Four months to the day after he stepped off the Scaleby Castle in London, he was reporting to the naval office in Bombay.

“Damned nuisance that you weren’t told, Lieutenant!” blustered the mustachioed clerk. “Admiral Maitland is deceased. Tropical fever or some damned thing—lost a number of good officers in a matter of days.”

Higgins removed his cap as a show of respect. “Where is the Wellesley now?”

“Sailed for Trincomalee for refitting. She’ll be picking up new officers there as well. You’ll be reporting to Rear Admiral Sir George Elliot, if you can get there in time.”

When Higgins arrived in Trincomalee and finally boarded the Wellesley, he was stunned at the size of her. For the past four years, he had sailed on agile, fast opium schooners. This was a warhorse.

“Lieutenant Higgins,” said the rear admiral. “Your record as first officer on Jardine’s fleet is exemplary, but do you think you’re cut out for the Royal Navy?”

“Yes, sir, Admiral, sir. I’m eager to serve Her Majesty. The merchant navy was a fine career, but it’s wartime now, sir, and I want to use my skill for queen and country.”

“Good lad, all fine, but I dare say you’ll find we do things a bit differently in the Royal Navy.”

“Yes, sir. I shall not disappoint you, sir.”

For two months Higgins worked hard all day and studied manuals at night. He knew why he was there, and it wasn’t for queen and country. Deep down, he felt conflicted. If England attacked China, he might very well have to execute orders that would kill Su-Mei’s people. I can’t think about that now, he told himself. I’ll know what to do when the time comes.

One thing he knew for sure was that he would resign his commission with Jardine and Matheson as soon as his military service was over. It was Jardine, he learned, who had mounted the campaign to convince England to go to war, and not for honor or even economic stability, but for profit. Higgins swore to himself that no matter what happened, he would never work on an opium ship again.

The Wellesley set sail for Singapore, another British enclave in Asia and the designated rendezvous point for the British expeditionary force bound for China. Rear Admiral George Elliot happened to be first cousin to Chief Superintendent of China Trade Charles Elliot, and he was the supreme commander of the China expedition; he passed command of the Wellesley to Captain Sir Gordon Bremer. When the full battle group had arrived, Rear Admiral Elliot asked a few officers, including Higgins, to oversee an inventory of their supplies to ensure the group was sufficiently provisioned. The supply ships were loaded with two months’ worth of drinking water, medical supplies, salted meat, flour, sugar, rum, lime juice, tea, and tobacco. They also carried over six thousand tons of coal so the steamers wouldn’t run out of fuel. Munitions included hundreds of barrels of gunpowder, thousands of cannonballs, canisters, and shells, and tens of thousands of musket cartridges, with balls and flints.

The marines practiced their landings on the beaches of Singapore, and Rear Admiral Elliot put his men, including Higgins, through their paces. Highly trained military personnel and the most modern and deadly military hardware in the world were at the ready to take on anything China could muster. When a supply ship arrived in Singapore with the official news from Parliament, Elliot called a meeting of all the senior officers of his battle group, including the captains of every warship and supply ship and senior ranking officers of the ground force.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “the use of force has been authorized by Parliament, which means we set sail for China as soon as weather permits. We will show the Chinese empire the meaning of British resolve and that we are not to be trifled with. We will teach them a lesson they shall not forget, and they will come to learn that no one threatens the safety of British subjects and confiscates British property without facing the consequences of their actions. We all recognize that our trade with China represents a meaningful part of our economic well-being, and we will not allow the Chinese empire to jeopardize that.”

“Hear, hear!” echoed through the hall. Higgins’s heart sank when he heard those words.

“Gentlemen, we have amassed a military force that I believe will easily defeat the Chinese,” continued the rear admiral, “thanks to intelligence provided by our merchants; but it will still require a vigorous effort to get the Chinese to submit to our terms for fair and equitable commerce in the future. We will resume trade on our terms, gentlemen, whether the Chinese like it or not. May God be with all of you, and may God save our queen.” Soldiers and sailors pounded their fists on the tables in agreement and began singing “God Save the Queen.”

Jardine had advised Lord Palmerston that the expeditionary force needed to threaten the safety of the emperor, so Canton should not be the first target. He suggested a blockade along the coast from Hainan in the southernmost part of China to the Great Wall in the north. He also suggested capturing and occupying Chusan and a few other islands, just to show off British military prowess. A total display of force, he believed, would intimidate the emperor into capitulating, which would serve his interests. Future diplomatic relations were not his concern.

Lord Palmerston weighed his options after discussing Jardine’s plan with various military and political leaders and decided that an expedition of such magnitude might be more than what Parliament had in mind, considering the narrow margin by which the act had passed. He preferred to force the Chinese into a diplomatic solution using the threat of invasion as leverage and, if necessary, engage the Chinese with military skirmishes instead of an all-out war.

Higgins, unable to sleep, paced back and forth on the decks of the Wellesley. His thoughts were jumbled: excitement about seeing Su-Mei soon, dread at the thought of carrying out orders that would take Chinese lives, shame over his involvement in the opium trade that had led to this war, and fear that once he arrived in Chinese waters, it would not be easy to slip away to find Su-Mei and whisk her home now that he was an officer in Her Majesty’s navy and she was an enemy civilian.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chusan, 1840

Rear Admiral Elliot, having read the dispatches from Lord Palmerston and consulted with his senior officers, decided the best plan was to attack a small island near the northern part of the mainland so that word would quickly reach Peking and get the emperor’s attention without causing heavy casualties. Jardine had suggested Chusan, six miles off the coast just south of Shanghai, and Elliot agreed with this choice. The island was sparsely populated and not well defended. The attacking force would have no problem navigating the area—many opium ships, including the Scaleby Castle, regularly anchored off Chusan to sell opium to the northern provinces. Higgins was the natural choice to navigate. The Wellesley led a small group of battleships with a group of longboats in tow carrying the elite grenadiers of the Royal Irish and the Royal Marines, who would lead the ground attack once the sea defenses were broken. The rest of the battle group would stay in the south.

On the morning of July 5, 1840, the Wellesley opened fire on Chusan, signaling the beginning of hostilities between England and China over the opium trade. The Chinese war junks were quickly destroyed. The land invasion force followed, and by midafternoon of the same day, the Union Jack was hoisted on Chusan’s highest peak for all to see, marking Britain’s first possession of Chinese territory. Higgins watched in horror as the junks broke apart under the barrage from his ship’s seventy-four cannons. He had never seen military action, and the reality of the moment made him sick to his stomach. I must get to Su-Mei, he thought desperately, before all hell breaks loose.

Chief Superintendent Charles Elliot was on board the Wellesley at the invitation of his elder cousin, Sir George. The supreme commander-in-chief had asked him to act in an advisory capacity, so he accompanied the battle group north to Chusan. When Higgins learned he was aboard, he got an idea. He approached Captain Elliot while he was on deck surveying the island with his telescope before boarding the landing boat to Chusan to officially declare it British territory.

“Captain Elliot, sir, may I have a word?”

“Ah, Lieutenant Higgins! Good to see you again, lad!” said Elliot. “Happy to see you’ve thrown in with the Royal Navy—that was a fine bit of navigating you did getting us here.”

“Thank you, sir.” Higgins paused for a moment. “Sir, do you remember Miss Lee, who witnessed the execution of her parents and family at the factories?”

“Of course I do. Terrible business.”

“And do you recall that you permitted us to travel to Fu-Moon to look for her brother and possibly bring back some reconnaissance? Which I sent back to your offices on my way home on the Scaleby Castle?”

Elliot’s aide was looking over to signal that the landing boat was ready. “I do, Lieutenant. Your intelligence was helpful and confirmed what we already suspected about the Chinese defenses. Is that all?”

“Well, no, sir. Miss Lee and her brother are still at Fu-Moon. They are still fugitives and will be executed if they’re discovered—”

“Lieutenant Higgins,” Elliot interrupted, “you are now an officer of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. I know your feelings regarding the young lady, and I sympathize with her current predicament, but we are at war. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am wanted on shore.”

“Sir, with respect, I mention Miss Lee because we are at war.”

Elliot gazed at him curiously. “I don’t take your meaning, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, Miss Lee may be a Chinese civilian, but her own people killed her family and want her dead. She is at Fu-Moon, where the main Chinese defensive forces are gathered, and her brother is currently serving under General Kwan at the fort.” Elliot said nothing, so Higgins continued bravely on. “Sir, Miss Lee can continue to be a valuable source of intelligence.”

“Indeed, Lieutenant Higgins. You want permission to go ashore when we return to the south to bring Miss Lee and her brother here so we can collect any information they might have that would affect our future activities in the south. Do I understand you correctly?”

“Yes, sir, you do, sir.” Higgins felt a glimmer of hope.

“There’s some merit to your plan, but also a fair amount of risk. I shall discuss it with the rear admiral at our briefing.”

“Yes, sir, Captain Elliot, thank you!”

“Do you know, Lieutenant, another young lady came to the factory looking for you and Miss Lee after you left for Fu-Moon. A nun, I dare say, a woman of mixed race.”

“Yes, sir, Sister Maria from the church in Macau. She is Miss Lee’s dear friend and companion.”

“I sent her on to Fu-Moon to look for Miss Lee. I’m pleased to hear you confirm her story, not that one would expect a woman of the cloth to lie.” He chuckled. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Deng Zhi was out of breath. He had run six miles from the last foot station at the outskirts of Peking with the latest report from scouts along the coast. He was a sixteen-year-old farm laborer who was now earning twice what his father made in a month to run messages in and out of the capital, and he did his part faithfully to help keep the foreign devils out of the Celestial Kingdom. The scroll he held had been handed off by another messenger who, in turn, had taken it from someone else and run from the previous foot station. Emperor Dao Kwong had set up these stations for messengers on foot, and some with fresh horses for messengers coming in from farther provinces, to keep him apprised of the movements of the foreign devils and their big ships of war. Deng imagined the entire Celestial Empire like a web with drops of dew strung along the strands and the emperor sitting like a fat spider in the center, hungry for news. That is disrespectful, he chastised himself, although he rather admired spiders. They possessed the virtues of patience and diligence.

He halted, panting, at the first guardhouse outside the imperial residence. “Messenger!” he called. A guard stepped out of his hut and examined the red-faced boy. “I must give this to Lord Tian only,” he said, holding up his scroll. The guard grunted and thumped the butt of his spear on the ground to indicate that he might pass.

He walked as fast as he could along the path to the residence, which became straighter and softer the closer he came, its borders lined with flowering shrubs, bamboo, and stone benches. When he neared the servants’ entrance, a thin man in palace dress met him on the path. He thrust out a hand from his long sleeve without a word. Deng bowed and gave him the scroll.

Lord Tian unrolled it and pursed his lips as he read. Deng would have liked to find the kitchen and ask for a cup of water and maybe a bun or two, but he stayed rooted to the ground until the guan gave him leave to go.

“Unacceptable,” announced Lord Tian, glaring at the boy as if he were personally responsible for the message.

“My lord?” said Deng.

“This says the foreign devils have nearly thirty ships and have just destroyed the fleet at Chusan. Chusan is a useless rock, but this force is greater than what we anticipated. The emperor cannot know—it will disrupt his serenity.” Lord Tian also feared that the news might disrupt his own plans for a long and wealthy life, but he kept that to himself.

He tucked the scroll into his sleeve and began to fabricate a report that would be more palatable for His Celestial Majesty. He would have to rewrite the message, even though the emperor never asked to actually see them, and present a report that aligned more precisely with the picture the other advisors were painting of a bumbling lot of greedy barbarians who could scarcely pilot their own giant warships, let alone triumph over the elite warriors of the Celestial Empire’s navy.

He had already forgotten about the messenger when the boy spoke.

“My lord?”

“What are you still doing here, befouling the Celestial Emperor’s grounds with your dirty feet? Get out!”

Happy to oblige, Deng gave a hasty bow and turned down the path to the imperial kitchen.

The supply ships were far behind schedule. The summer heat on Chusan brought mosquitoes, and the soldiers were forced to drink the local water, which made them sick. Many of the troops contracted dysentery, and the rest were hungry. Soldiers resorted to looting and brutality, which only made the residents hate them more. Violence erupted on both sides. Communications between the rear admiral in the north and the rest of the battle group in the south were slow, and as more personnel became unable to perform their duties, questions arose regarding military leadership.

The rear admiral himself was unwell, and he looked to his cousin Charles to plan their next moves. Charles Elliot had more experience in China than any other officer, and he was familiar with Lord Palmerston’s vision of how to deal with the situation. Almost immediately after Chusan fell, the admiral requested a Chinese courier to deliver a letter from Lord Palmerston to the emperor. The letter suggested that the emperor dispatch a representative to negotiate in neutral territory, somewhere near the Peiho River where it connected Peking to Tianjin. The emperor would be eager to avoid further hostilities after he saw a sample of British military power, Lord Palmerston believed, and he would agree to opening new ports and resuming shipments of opium.

The letter was not delivered to the emperor but to the governor-general of nearby Chihli Province, Magistrate Chi San, who replied that he would refer the matter to Peking himself. As a gesture of good faith, Magistrate Chi San sent meat, poultry, and fresh vegetables to the troops at Chusan. We could strike the foreign devils now, while they’re weak and sick, he thought, but that would bring the southern force inland, too close to Peking, and the emperor can’t know that our troops won’t be able to stop them. A strategy of appeasement, he decided, was best.

Magistrate Chi San invited ranking officers of the admiral’s team to a parley near Peking, an unexpected move. He ordered a sumptuous banquet for the British officers, with the finest foods and spirits available. Rear Admiral Elliot was too ill to attend and sent Charles Elliot in his place.

“Your Excellency,” said Elliot after the last course was taken away, “we sincerely regret the loss of life and damage to Chinese property, but you must recognize that you left Her Majesty no choice but to protect our honor after you destroyed our merchandise and threatened to harm our subjects.”

“Dear Lord Elliot,” Chi San responded through his interpreter, “Special Emissary Lin believed he was acting on direct orders from the emperor when he took those actions. I apologize on his behalf, and I assure you that our emperor’s intent was never to harm any of your subjects or declare war on your noble kingdom, so let us discuss how we can settle our dispute.” He paused for a moment so the translator could catch up. “Our emperor commands that we stop the import of opium, as so many of our subjects are addicted to the drug. Opium is not legal in our kingdom, but your merchants continue to smuggle large quantities of it into our ports. Please be reminded that your merchants signed an agreement with our special emissary that they would not sell opium to our country again.”

“Sir, our merchants signed that pledge under duress, fearful for their lives,” replied Elliot. “Furthermore, it was an agreement between private citizens and your special emissary and thus is not a matter of state. You claim that opium imports are illegal, and yet your customs officers have allowed thousands of tons of it into your country. We will remind our merchants to obey the laws of every nation with which they trade, but it is up to your country to enforce your own laws.” Elliot was feeling a deep personal satisfaction that had nothing to do with the rich meal he’d just consumed. The British had the upper hand, and both parties knew it.

“Lord Elliot, we will endeavor to do better in our law enforcement. However, our Celestial Emperor requests that your noble queen command your merchants to stop shipping opium to our shores.” Chi San looked down at the table while he spoke to hide his shame. The British knew as well as he did that the opium trade had only been able to flourish because of Chinese corruption. “Now that we have reached an understanding, let us declare a truce and cease hostilities. Our Celestial Kingdom has enjoyed trade with your noble kingdom for many years now, and there is no reason to resort to military conflict now.” He offered a polite smile. “When can we expect your ships and troops to withdraw from our kingdom?”

“Sir,” Charles Elliot’s tone was arch, “we do not intend to withdraw until our terms are met. To wit, that you reimburse us for the cost of the merchandise you destroyed and our expedition and open four new ports to trade with England without impediments. We are prepared to enter into negotiations that will conclude with a trade treaty sanctioned by your emperor. When that is signed, you may expect our withdrawal.”

Chi San was not authorized to agree to terms that involved payments and new trade arrangements. He needed to buy some time. “Lord Elliot, the Celestial Emperor will consider your terms and our counsel on this matter. In the meantime, may I humbly suggest that you move your ships and troops back to Canton while we resolve our differences? Your soldiers face harsh conditions on Chusan; you could give them a chance to recover while we continue our negotiations in a more pleasant environment.” Now I can tell His Celestial Majesty that I have diverted the foreign devils from the capital, he thought, relieved.

Charles Elliot had no intention of withdrawing from Chusan, although he saw it as merely a bargaining chip that he could trade for a better territory, namely Hong Kong, which had much more favorable conditions. Best of all, it had a natural deep-water harbor in which British ships could drop anchor. The Wellesley and her retinue would return to Canton, leaving just enough ground troops on Chusan to maintain its occupation.

The emperor’s Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu was hailed in Canton as a strong, resolute, and fearless fighter for justice. He firmly believed that his actions would finally rid his beloved country of the drug that had been killing so many and causing incalculable damage to families. He also believed that his beloved emperor would support him and listen to his advice, even if it meant a military confrontation with the British.

The Celestial Empire may not have the modern weaponry the foreign devils bring, but it will be almost impossible for them to fight a sustained war effort if their provisions and men must travel thousands of miles by sea, he thought. He was confident that men fighting on and for their homeland would have the advantage over soldiers fighting for abstract principles and other men’s profits in a strange and distant kingdom, even with outdated armaments and ships. But the most obvious reason that the Celestial Empire would win, Special Emissary Lin concluded, was the amount of Chinese merchandise the British bought every year and would continue to demand. The British economy would be crippled by war, which meant China was in a strong position to negotiate a trade treaty that did not include opium if Magistrate Chi San and the emperor could only hold their ground.

Meanwhile, opium ships sailed out of Bombay by the dozens while the winds were favorable. Now that the Royal Navy had shown its teeth, everyone assumed the trade was back on. The drug flowed into Canton and the remote provinces as though nothing had happened. Traders felt secure in the presence of the Royal Navy in Canton, and many smugglers bypassed the Customs Office entirely, paying whatever it took for a local junk to bring the drug ashore.

Chi San considered himself a patriot, but he feared a war with England and truly believed he could negotiate a peaceable resolution and still stop the opium trade. More than war, however, he feared his beloved emperor’s wrath, so he was careful to shield him from the truth. He made his report, taking full credit for luring the British fighting force away from Chusan and back to Canton. The report was critical of the special emissary’s siege tactics against the British and stopped just short of blaming him for the war. For the conflict to be resolved, Chi San knew, there had to be a scapegoat.

Chi San held Special Emissary Lin in the highest esteem, knowing that he was loyal and incorruptible. But to avoid war, he needed to discredit him. In his report Chi San stated that opium was already back in circulation and that the special emissary had failed in his efforts. The emperor believed the special emissary had accomplished his goal when he destroyed twenty thousand cases of opium and forced the British to sign a paper swearing that they would not bring opium into China again. Instead, all reports pointed to the contrary: opium flowing freely, with more on the way, and a powerful navy at anchor just off the coast.

China’s economy was declining, Emperor Dao Kwong knew, as a result of the opium and foreign influence with which he and his court were ill equipped to cope. Tax revenues for the Chinese empire flowed mainly from the southern provinces, which the British expeditionary force could easily cut off by controlling the waterways. The emperor was a fearful, sheltered man who couldn’t think on his feet and relied heavily on his advisors. At the time the British declared war, he didn’t even know where England was.

The emperor was an easy mark for Chi San’s game, and so he concluded that Lin Tse-Hsu had failed and dispatched an edict discharging his position as his special emissary and replacing him with Chi San. When news of Lin’s discharge became known, hundreds of Cantonese citizens came out to pay their respects, blocking his sedan chair and raining down praises for his courage and determination to stop the opium crisis. He was given a hero’s parade—unlike most guans, who slunk away in disgrace when they were discharged.

Lin decided he would stay in Canton to offer advice and support to Chi San, but his services were never requested. Chief Investigator Cheng stayed with Lin Tse-Hsu and continued to serve him faithfully.

Charles Elliot, who had taken command after the rear admiral determined he was too ill and left for England, was delighted by the news and felt that a settlement in favor of England was finally possible. Chi San let Elliot know he was ready for negotiations and suggested meeting in Macau, an appropriate, neutral location. Elliot rejected this idea, insisting instead that the meetings take place aboard the Wellesley.

When the Chinese entourage arrived on board, Elliot made sure they saw the plentiful stores of gunpowder and cannonballs. He pulled the entire battle group into a tight formation, with marines and other landing infantry lined up on all ships. It worked—Chi San and his group were duly intimidated. In the captain’s dining room, Elliot served his guests a formal English luncheon that required the use of unfamiliar utensils. When it was time for negotiations, Chi San stumbled over his own words, confusing the translators. The battle was lost before it began.

Enough time had passed, Elliot insisted, for the emperor to agree to his terms; otherwise, hostilities would resume. He demanded the immediate occupation of Hong Kong. In fact, he was halfway to moving his troops there already, with or without the emperor’s consent. Chi San lost ground on all issues and began to stall, first claiming that he was ill and needed time to recover, then asking for a recess so the emperor could discuss these matters further with his advisors. When Emperor Dao Kwong learned of the British demands, he became furious with Chi San. It was obvious that the British intended to increase shipments of opium through the four new open ports they wanted. Ceding territory to a foreign sovereign was unimaginable—allowing Hong Kong to become a base for illegal opium sales would be profoundly humiliating.

Elliot lost patience with all this stalling and, true to his word, ordered an attack on several small island forts near Fu-Moon on January 7, 1841. These islands were easy prey for the Nemesis and the Wellesley and suffered substantial casualties. General Kwan Tien Pui watched in dismay as they fell, dreading an even stronger attack on Canton.

Captain Bremer landed with a large party to formally take possession of Hong Kong without a treaty authorizing its occupation. When the emperor received word from a loyal subject whose report had not been altered, he was furious and issued another edict; this one discharged Chi San and sent reinforcements to Canton. Three imperial officials replaced him, and Chi San was shackled and returned to Peking in a prisoner’s cage for his failure to deter the British. Two weeks later, when Elliot learned of the latest imperial edict, he concluded that the time was right to launch an attack on the fortifications of Fu-Moon.

“Once those miserable piles are down, we can take possession of Canton,” he told his aide with pride. “Don’t know why we bothered negotiating with the yellow bastards at all.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fu-Moon, February 1841

Pai Chu had never been happier in her life. For almost a year, she spent every day with Su-Mei in the little rented cottage outside Fu-Moon. They learned to grow vegetables and raise chickens, and Pai Chu took over the cooking. She knew Su-Mei’s mind was on the foreign devil Higgins, but she couldn’t suffocate the love she’d had for Su-Mei almost since their first meeting. In truth, it seemed to grow stronger during their idyllic time in the country. He might never come back, she thought often. And then we can stay together.

She longed for Su-Mei’s touch—sometimes the desire for it made her unable to catch her breath, and on cold nights she wrapped her arms and legs around her sleeping friend, and it gave her a pleasure far beyond the shared warmth. Nothing in her convent education had taught her about physical attraction or carnal desire, and in her confusion, she tried to convince herself that these feelings were what all good friends felt for each other. After all, she’d never had a close friend before. But she couldn’t quite understand the blinding jealousy she experienced at the mention of Higgins’s name. It had to be because she cared so deeply about Su-Mei’s safety and happiness, she decided. She couldn’t let her dear friend make the mistake of marrying him and going off to England. And yet she had curious thoughts late at night of holding Su-Mei close, feeling her silken skin next to her own, and wrapping her fists in her long, fragrant hair. Why wouldn’t I want to touch her? she reasoned. Su-Mei is so lovely!

Heavenly Father, she prayed nightly, let Su-Mei see that the foreign devil will never return and that she belongs to me. Didn’t I save her life? And I would do it again—I would give her anything, my life even! She must stay with me, and we can dedicate our lives to serving Christ. We could be so happy together! We could even stay here and teach the villagers about the One True Faith. Deep in her heart, she suspected that Mother Amanda would disapprove of the depth of her feelings—her passion ought to be reserved for the Lord and her mission to carry out his work. But Mother Amanda was far away in Macau, and darling Su-Mei was so close.

As for Su-Mei, she missed Higgins desperately and prayed daily for his return and for Da Ping to change his mind so they could all go to England together. Pai Chu’s moodiness and palpable dislike of the man she loved grated on her nerves, but Su-Mei tried to be compassionate. After all, Pai Chu did not have a handsome, kind lover trying to make his way back to her, and she suffered almost constantly from pain in her stomach and bouts of horrible vomiting.

Da Ping was now almost fifteen years old. His dinners with Su-Mei had dwindled to once a month now, and every time, he asked for money for his “gambling debts.” Su-Mei only allowed him five mace of silver per visit, and she could tell something was wrong with him. He kept losing weight, and he was often lethargic and muddled in his thoughts. If she tried to talk to him about the way he handled his money, he complained about her nagging. Some things Higgins had told her about the habits and appearance of opium users began to take on a new meaning, and she thought more and more about poor Chu Sing.

“Dearest Little Brother,” she said finally, “I can tell you are not yourself when you visit, and you lose an awful lot of money gambling. Tell me the truth, are you using opium?”

“No, I am not! No!” scoffed Da Ping. “You insult me with these accusations. What do you know about being a soldier? It’s hard! I’m often sick and cold, and the work is exhausting. That’s why I’m so thin and why I don’t have the energy to walk all the way out here to see you, especially when all you do is nag when I get here.”

“Don’t talk to me about pain!” shouted Su-Mei. “I saw our father, our mother, and the rest of our family beheaded in public, and I risked my life coming here for you, so don’t you dare belittle my suffering.” She paused and wiped away a tear. “I’m not giving you any more silver until you tell me the truth. I have always protected you, since you were born, and I always will. But I can’t help if you don’t tell me the truth. So, for the last time, are you using opium?”

“Yes, all right, I’ve used it once or twice, but I’m not addicted,” he lied. “A lot of soldiers use it. It makes us feel braver, now that so many foreign devil fighting ships are here and it looks like there will be a war any day. It’s a trifling thing, just like a drink of strong liquor.”

“Once or twice?”

“Maybe three times.” Da Ping was on the verge of telling his sister about his addiction, but his courage failed him. He was petrified that war would break out and he would be on the front lines. Opium calmed his nerves and took the edge off his fear. And when it wore off, the fear was worse, and then all he could think about was getting some more.

“Da Ping, you are the only man left in our family. You must stay healthy and safe. If you think war will break out, why don’t you just leave the army and stay here with me and Pai Chu? We can go to England when Talavas comes back for me. You will be safe there, and you won’t have to take opium, and we can build a new life together.”

“But I don’t even know where England is, and I’m afraid of these foreign devils,” he whined. “Honorable Father and Mother would forbid you to go; they would never allow you to marry a foreign devil!”

“I think if our parents knew that we would be killed if we stayed in China, they would want us to go to England,” Su-Mei replied. “I know you’re afraid—so am I! But Talavas is a good man, and he’ll do his best to make us safe and comfortable. Da Ping, don’t you understand? I love him, and I want to live with him—and you! Stay here!” she begged. “Desert right now, and you won’t have to worry about those ships anymore.”

Pai Chu, listening in on their conversation from outside, cursed Higgins for casting his spell on her beloved Su-Mei. He will never come, she comforted herself. The foreign devils lie.

“I’ll think about it,” promised Da Ping to get his sister to stop bothering him. “I just hope we don’t have to fight the foreign devils. I heard their ships are huge, with the biggest cannons!” Da Ping often thought about deserting and running off to Macau—maybe he could even convince Su-Mei to go there instead of England—but he always found a good excuse to put it off for another few days.

Da Ping knew very little about what was going on with the foreign devils and the ships because Magistrate Chi San had done his best to keep the common people in the dark about his negotiations with Elliot. Some news leaked, of course: Da Ping knew about the invasion of Chusan and how many British battleships had arrived in Canton, and he relayed this information to Su-Mei. She prayed that her love would be on one of those ships at the same time that she prayed the war would not happen. When Elliot had attacked the small islands near Fu-Moon, only a month before, word spread quickly, and the atmosphere at Fu-Moon grew tense. Pai Chu tried to persuade Su-Mei to return to Macau, but she refused to go. How would Talavas find me?

Remembering his complaints about the cold, Su-Mei gave Da Ping a full tael of silver to buy a warm blanket, which he promptly spent on the finest opium he could find. What good was a blanket, he reasoned, when a ship like the Nemesis waited just outside the river mouth?

Higgins paced back and forth on the decks of the Wellesley, wrestling with an impossible dilemma. The battle group had been given its orders to prepare for a major attack on Fu-Moon. The thought of deserting his post and somehow getting to shore to make sure Su-Mei was out of harm’s way crossed his mind, but he knew that if he deserted, he would put his crew in danger, and he would be hung if he was caught. If he and Su-Mei managed to get away, they would never be able to return to England, and they certainly couldn’t live in China. Macau was not an option—that would be the first place the military police would look. If he executed his orders, innocent people would die, possibly including his beloved. His battle group would win easily, and the casualty rate would be high on the enemy side. Higgins’s head began to pound, and he felt a twinge of nausea.

It’s do or die: no choice but to execute my orders and hope the battle ends quickly, he concluded. Maybe the Chinese will be smart enough to surrender. But the Chinese were a proud people, he knew, and they would fight a foreign invasion until they had nothing left.

Su-Mei and Pai Chu heard the cannons firing, and ran into the house in terror. Su-Mei prayed urgently to God to keep her brother safe and to guide Higgins to her. She had begun to formulate a plan to sneak into the fort and get Da Ping out when there was a knock at the door. She rushed to open it and found the knife sharpener panting and out of breath.

“San San, I hope you don’t mind if I stay here until the cannons stop shooting,” gasped Wen Jing. “I’ve never seen so many ships—or such big ships—in my life. They’re destroying the fort. General Kwan and our soldiers are doing their best, but it doesn’t look good!”

Su-Mei panicked. “My brother is there! I have to get to him!”

“It’s not safe, San San! Everyone is leaving Fu-Moon to find shelter. You must stay here until it’s over.” He leaned against the wall, getting his breath back. “You won’t be able to help your brother if you’re dead.”

“No, no, I must go!” She grabbed her coat and tried to move past Wen Jing.

“San San, I admire your courage and love for your brother, but no. Stay here!”

“Master Wen, he is the only family I have! I can’t just sit here while he’s in danger.”

Wen Jing shook his head at the foolishness of women. “I cannot let you go alone. Let me take you into Fu-Moon by a different path. No foreign devil will see us coming.” He sighed. “You’re a good sister to worry, especially considering your brother is a trained soldier and you are just a woman. But I must insist that we wait until the cannons stop firing. It won’t be safe for us until then. You won’t be able to find your brother in this chaos, anyway, not until the fighting has stopped.”

“Yes, all right, that makes sense. We’ll wait till the cannons stop. Thank you for helping me, Master Wen. I can never repay this kindness.”

“My wife and daughter were killed in that horrible typhoon two years ago, little San San. I feel guilty every day that I couldn’t protect them, so I know what it feels like for you.”

The cannons didn’t stop firing for a day and a half, and Su-Mei prayed constantly for her brother’s safety and Higgins’s return. Pai Chu’s prayers were for Higgins to die when his ship was destroyed and for Su-Mei to come weeping into her arms for solace. I will show her true love. Wen Jing had no use for prayers, so he helped around the house, drawing water, feeding the chickens, and preparing meals that the two women were too distraught to eat.

When the cannons finally stopped, the silence rang loud in their ears. Wen Jing had hoped Su-Mei would reconsider her plan, but she was more determined than ever to find her brother.

“Pai Chu, it’s best if you stay here in case my brother comes on his own. If he does, please tell him to stay here and wait for me,” Su-Mei said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t go!” Pai Chu pleaded, a wild and scared look in her eyes. “He will be all right. What can you do to save him now? The danger is past, and I don’t like to be here alone!”

“You can’t come with us, Pai Chu,” Su-Mei said flatly. “You can’t walk quickly without pain. And I need you to stay here.” Seeing the terror and hurt in her face, Su-Mei impulsively wrapped her arms around Pai Chu. She could feel her trembling through the thick layers of her coat. “You’ll be all right—you’ll see.”

Tears filled Pai Chu’s eyes as she watched Master Wen Jing and Su-Mei hurry away. She felt a strangling fear unlike anything she had ever known, not alone in Canton searching for Su-Mei, not on the way to an unknown place called Fu-Moon. “Hail Mary, full of grace,” she began. “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women.”

February 26, 1841

Lee Da Ping, his hands shaking, watched as gray dragons breathed fire, spewing smoke that spun into rose petals and then burst into fireworks. He was very high on the last of his good opium, and when he raced to alert the general, he felt like he was flying. Will I make it in time? A flash caught the corner of his eye, but he heard and felt nothing as the cannonball hit. His severed head hurtled through the air, and the last thing he saw was his own body vaporizing into a pinkish cloud. For the briefest of moments, he was enveloped in a warm, comfortable glow. This is how it felt to be born, was his last thought, and it was the best feeling—a million times better than any opium high or even sex with Little Spring. It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he was about to learn a wondrous secret, the answer to a riddle that people had been puzzling over since the beginning of time.

General Kwan didn’t need a teenaged, drug-addicted foot soldier to tell him he was outgunned in every possible way. Still, the general fought to a bitter and honorable end, which came for him in hand-to-hand combat. His body was found with a bayonet in his chest. Vice General Lo Ping’s body was nearby, opened by a gunshot wound and multiple knife wounds. These men and most of the garrison gave their lives in a doomed attempt to protect their motherland from foreign invaders.

When the landing force signaled the all-clear, Captains Elliot and Bremer went ashore to inspect the situation. Higgins, still reeling from the assault, had volunteered to be part of the group, hoping against hope that he would find Su-Mei alive.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fu-Moon, February 1841

Willard Bell had become separated from his unit after chasing down a few Chinese soldiers who ran away from the action. Yellow bastards, he’d given them what for. Their blood was still on his uniform trousers where he’d wiped his bayonet blade. And now he couldn’t tell which was the way back to the fort and that damp puddle of a town. Bell had joined the expeditionary force instead of serving time in jail for petty crimes. He had a violent streak and had been a bully for most of his life. He felt like he’d been walking for an hour when he spotted a small cottage with a vegetable garden out front.

“Blimey,” he said. “Haven’t seen fresh greens in months.” He snatched a greedy handful of lettuce and a few carrots and began to stuff them in his mouth.

A Chinese woman stepped out of the house. It took Bell a few seconds to realize she was shouting at him in English. “Sir, this is our garden—please leave!” she shouted.

“Bloody hell!” he swore. “A Chinawoman who speakee English. Hey, China lady, me soldier.” He thumped his chest, then rubbed his belly. “Me hungry, want food!”

“I know who and what you are, and I’m telling you to leave. Go back to your ship.”

“Your English is bloody good, China lady! Why don’t ye invite me in for a cuppa tea, and we can have us a proper chat?”

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself. Please leave!”

“Now don’t be so bloody rude! I’m your bloody conqueror, so yer oughtter be nice to me.”

“You are not welcome here, sir. For the last time, please leave!”

Bell dropped the carrot greens he’d been holding and took a step closer. “Well, ain’t you got a temper on yer? What else you got for me, missy? Something a sight better than vegetables, I’ll warrant.”

The woman retreated inside and slammed the door. But it was a flimsy door, and it opened easily when Bell applied the butt of his rifle to it.

“Come now, missy, let’s be friends,” he cooed. “Old Willard just wants a mite to eat and maybe a bit of a cuddle, eh? Missy like a cuddle with a nice Englishman? I won’t bite—unless you like that sort o’ thing.” He grinned, showing rotted brown teeth.

The woman ducked behind a partition, but he caught her sleeve. “Now then, missy Chinee, what’s your—”

Pai Chu felt a swell of anger building in her stomach. Her mind went blank, and her stress and anger triggered a spasm in her esophagus. A torrent of vomit flew from her mouth, splattering the soldier from chest to boots.

“Bloody hell!” Bell choked as he stepped back, horrified, and slipped in the puddle at his feet. “Bitch whore cunt!” he screamed as he went down. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Pai Chu tried to run out the door of the cottage, but Bell was on his feet in no time. “Stupid Chinese bitch,” he muttered. “Ruined me Benjamin, you have! You’ll pay for that.” He slammed his rifle barrel into her shins as she tried to run past him, knocking her to the floor, then punched her in the stomach. The excruciating pain sent Pai Chu into a blinding white wall of unconsciousness. “Now then,” said Bell with satisfaction. “A bit of hush at last.” He tugged at her dark cotton tunic to see how it opened, then gave up and tore it down the front with a little help from his bayonet blade. “Let’s see what a China bitch looks like under her kicksies.”

Blessed art though among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Pai Chu’s head throbbed, and her muscles were stiff. She tried to move her legs and felt a stabbing pain between them. Shivering, she realized that her skin was bare in the chill air, and then she remembered.

The soldier stood half naked at the pantry shelves with his back to Pai Chu and his uniform trousers dropped around his ankles, chewing on food that Pai Chu had been preparing before he appeared. Her eyes turned bloodshot with anger as she saw a vision of her own mother’s rape by a British man.

It had happened. The thing she’d always feared, the thing that had happened to her mother, what she had tried so hard to protect Su-Mei from. But this one was not getting back on his ship and sailing away.

“Holy Mary, mother of God,” she whispered. “Pray for us sinners.” The soldier’s weapon lay on the floor beyond Pai Chu’s feet. Too long and heavy, she thought. She needed a weapon that was small, something she used every day. “Now, and at the hour of our death.” The cleaver that she used to dismember chicken carcasses lay on its wooden block just outside the kitchen door. She could see it in her mind, blade slotted neatly in its groove, handle facing up.

Silently, she climbed to her feet, her skin prickling to goosebumps with cold. She felt no fear. There was nothing left to be afraid of now. “Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee.” She bolted for the side door. The soldier whirled around at the sound of her voice and her footsteps, but he tripped over his trousers and fell hard. Swearing, he got up and ran after her. The cleaver seemed to float into her hand as she reached for it. She relished the look of utter astonishment on the man’s face before she sank the blade, honed to hair-splitting sharpness by Su-Mei, into the side of his neck. She didn’t stop there, and by the time she was finished, panting with exhaustion, the dead soldier lying in a pool of blood was unrecognizable. Pai Chu wore an expression that would have frightened devils. She squatted, naked and drenched in blood, near the mutilated body and smiled, mumbling words that only she could understand.

Master Wen Jing led Su-Mei on a winding, unmarked path through a bamboo forest that came out near the east side of the fort. When they left the cover of the bamboo, they crouched down, trying hard not to be seen as they approached the fort. Su-Mei noticed an acrid, burnt smell in the air, like roast pork mixed with firecrackers. When they saw the first dead Chinese soldiers, their flesh burned black, she understood. Both Su-Mei and the knife sharpener turned away and vomited before picking their way carefully past the carnage.

There were more dead bodies near the fort’s side entrance, which had been blown to pieces. They heard voices speaking English, and they hid behind a pile of rubble, fearful for their lives. Su-Mei could understand part of what the soldiers were saying, and it had to do with being clear and calling the officers to come ashore. At a signal from Master Wen, she ducked back into the bamboo forest. Not far away was another opening; from it they could see a wall of the fort that had been blown open. Townspeople were rummaging through the ruins, either looking for their loved ones or robbing the dead.

“Please, please, Da Ping,” Su-Mei begged, “be on your way to the house and not here.” There didn’t appear to be very many survivors, and she was preparing herself for the worst while praying for the impossible. She heard loud cries from the shore, where the invaders had landed, and she followed the sound. British soldiers were surrounding the bodies of General Kwan and Lo Ping. Su-Mei shed a tear as she remembered how kind the general had been when she’d sneaked in to find Da Ping. In an attitude of solemn respect, the British officers saluted the fallen general.

As he followed Elliot and the other officers up the bank of the river, Higgins saw the carnage up close. He had seen plenty of dead bodies at Chusan, but seeing them at Fu-Moon, a place where he’d walked at sunset with Su-Mei, felt different and much more disturbing. While answering a question from one of the other men, he stumbled on what he thought was a rock and almost fell. He glanced down and saw, to his horror, that it was a head. Poor bastard. He walked on, but something about the head nagged at his memory. He turned back and looked closer. The straight eyebrow, the high cheekbones—one crossed with a jagged scar—and that telltale mark on his forehead. It was Da Ping. He’d only seen the boy once, through the gates of the fort, but the resemblance, the birthmark, and the scar were unmistakable.

“What’s that you’ve found, Lieutenant?” asked one of the men. “A souvenir?”

Higgins shook his head. When he could speak, he quietly ordered one of the soldiers nearby to burn the head with the rest of the bodies and then caught up to his superiors near the fallen general. He half listened to the conversation of the senior officers, hearing Chinese voices shout Chinese names over and over, calling for their loved ones and getting no answer. The names floated through the smoky air like the calls of shrill, desperate seabirds.

Elliot and Bremer were busy making arrangements for the removal and disposal of the dead and where to raise the British flag signifying their conquest when Higgins thought he heard a familiar voice. “Da Ping!” He quietly slipped away toward the sound of that voice. He heard the voice crying out for Da Ping again, and there was no mistaking it. Su-Mei!

He shouted her name as loud as he could, again and again.

Officers, soldiers, and villagers nearby heard him and turned to see what was happening. When they did, they saw a uniformed British officer and a Chinese lady embracing each other passionately and crying in each other’s arms right where Chinese soldiers had fought and died defending their homeland against the British forces.

Elliot stared. Could that really be Lieutenant Higgins? Damn it all, he’s found his Chinese lady friend!

The villagers, boiling with anger, began throwing rocks and shouting at the woman who was consorting with the enemy right where the brave soldiers of Fu-Moon had given their lives.

“Get them out of here!” Elliot ordered, and a detachment of soldiers surrounded Higgins and Su-Mei to protect them while others dispersed the hecklers. Master Wen Jing faded into the crowd, shaking his head.

“I see you’ve found your lady, Lieutenant, but she doesn’t appear to be welcome here. You’d best get her, and this brother if he can be found, to the ship now, where they’ll be safe.”

Higgins shook his head slightly at the captain, who nodded before Su-Mei could notice. “Right, then, just her.”

“What happen?” Su-Mei asked, bewildered. “Where Da Ping?”

“I am so sorry, my dear! Your brother is gone. His remains were found near the general, so I’m sure he died fighting bravely.”

Su-Mei’s face crumpled, as did her legs as she lost her balance. The truth of Higgins’s words was undeniable. She hadn’t seen a single living soldier at the fort. “I want see Da Ping!”

Higgins shook his head. “His remains are already with the other brave men of the Chinese army.”

Su-Mei wanted to scream at the sky, to pound her fists on Higgins’s chest, to curse him for taking the last member of her family. She wanted to spit in the eye of this captain who saw all this death as a conquest, a piece moved on a game board. She wanted to turn on her heel and leave all these foreign devils to their bloodshed and hatred forever, to live peacefully in the cottage with Pai Chu and never have to look at a foreigner ever again.

She did none of these things.

“Higgins, you must get Miss Lee aboard the Wellesley. Offer her the use of my quarters so she may grieve for her brother in privacy. I expect her people will do her harm if she stays.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Awkwardly, he reached down to help Su-Mei up. She pushed him away and got up on her own, then started hitting him over and over, crying and screaming helplessly. Higgins stood there and let her hit him. The blows became softer and softer until she collapsed in his arms, exhausted.

Higgins wrapped a blanket around Su-Mei and carried her to a landing boat nearby. He deposited her inside, climbed in next to her, and instructed the sailors to row for the Wellesley. He held her tightly for the short trip to the ship, which had moved in closer to shore after the battle. Tears ran down his face. When had this war become so personal? It had hurt so many innocent people, and for what? So his countrymen could continue to enjoy tea, silk, and porcelain as they poisoned an entire country? He felt ashamed to his core.

Su-Mei awoke on a bunk in a tidy but well-appointed cabin aboard a ship. Higgins slept beside her on a chair he’d drawn next to the bunk. She could see the residue of tears along his face. Her heart had been broken by Da Ping’s death, but she couldn’t pretend that Higgins was to blame. How difficult it must have been for him to come all the way back to me, during a war! She reached over and touched his arm.

Higgins woke immediately. “I am so terribly sorry, my love! So sorry!”

She blinked away tears. “I know you not kiu Da Ping. But I so vally sad.”

“I know, dearest—I can’t imagine your pain. But I’m here now, and I will never let you go, ever. Soon we’ll sail for England and be away from this place of so much sadness and suffering.” He held her hand tightly, interlacing her fingers with his. “I’m awfully sorry about Da Ping and all the other soldiers. About everything. It was wrong, wrong.” He shook his head.

“You not do wrong, Tavelas.” She tried to come up with the English words to explain who was at fault—the smugglers, her father, the emperor, the English queen, all the addicts, the generals, the corrupt guans?—and failed.

“I am ashamed all the same. So many lives lost, and for what?” He gazed into her tear-streaked face. “I promise you this, my love. After we are married, I shall resign my commission. I’ll not serve in the navy, nor aboard an opium ship, ever again. It is a shameful trade, and this is a shameful war.”

Su-Mei nodded. “We go Engand now. Yes, Tavelas, I want go Engand wit you,” she declared. Leaving China behind seemed like the best idea she’d ever heard, and the sooner they left, the better.

“Yes, we’ll start a new life there, my dear.”

Su-Mei nodded eagerly. Then she remembered Pai Chu.

“Tavelas, we must tell Pai Chu we leave. She waiting at house. Maybe she come to Engand too?” Su-Mei knew in her heart that Pai Chu would never consent to live among the hated British, but she couldn’t leave her behind without a word. I have failed to save everyone else in my entire family from a horrible death—I must at least say goodbye to my adopted sister, she thought.

“Yes,” agreed Higgins. “Captain Elliot did give permission for two people to travel with us.”

Su-Mei sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk. “You take me to house now, pleeze?”

“It’s awfully late now,” he replied. “Why don’t you rest, and we’ll go tomorrow morning. But we must be very careful—your people see you as a traitor now, and it’s not safe for you in Fu-Moon.” He kissed her hand tenderly. “Stay here in the captain’s quarters. I shall call for you in the morning. If you require anything, just pull that rope to call the steward.”

Su-Mei refused to let go of his hand. “No. You stay wit me.”

Higgins leaned in for a kiss. “My darling, it would not be proper. The captain—” The rest of his words were lost to the touch of her lips. Su-Mei’s grief and their year-long separation kindled a fiery passion between them, and Higgins soon realized that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Charles Elliot, exhausted from the battle and the dreary logistics of burial and occupation, recalled upon boarding the Wellesley that he had offered his quarters to the Chinese lady. He found a vacant bunk and collapsed into it, eyes already closing.

When morning came, Elliot and Captain Bremer invited Higgins and Su-Mei to join them for breakfast.

“Miss Lee,” said Elliot, “please accept our deepest condolences on your loss. It was never our intention to bring death and destruction onto your country, but we were left with no other choice to defend our honor. It is our sincerest hope that England and China can reach a peaceful conclusion and resume the amicable relationship we enjoyed previously—”

Before he could finish, Su-Mei interrupted. “No want talk opium. Opium kiu my family, kiu so many peepoh. No onna in opium.”

“In time, Miss Lee, I pray you will understand. We are just happy that you are safe now and under the protection of Her Majesty. We shall welcome you to England when we are finished with this unfortunate conflict.”

Su-Mei decided not to pursue this senseless conversation. She felt torn to pieces and confused inside. “Please, I need go home. Must tell Pai Chu I go Engand, then come back.”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave this ship, Miss Lee, I saw your people’s reaction to your relationship with Lieutenant Higgins, so you will not be safe. To whom do you wish to speak? Could a message be sent?”

Su-Mei shook her head. “Must go tell Pai Chu. She wait me.”

Higgins recognized the stubborn look in her eyes. “Sir,” said Higgins. “Miss Pai Chu is Miss Lee’s companion and best friend. She is the novice, Sister Maria, whom you met at the fort. She has been living with Miss Lee for the past year, not far from Fu-Moon. Miss Lee would like to ask your permission to invite her on our voyage back to England in place of her brother. Sir, Miss Pai Chu is the only friend and closest thing to family that she has left in China. I beg you to consider allowing her to sail with us—assuming Miss Pai Chu would like to go to England.”

“Well, under these circumstances, I will permit Miss Lee’s friend to join her on her voyage now that her brother is no longer with us.”

“Thank you, sir.” Higgins breathed a sigh of relief.

“Tank you,” Su-Mei echoed.

“When do you plan to collect this young woman, Higgins?”

“Today, sir, with your permission.”

“I don’t think it’s safe for Miss Lee to go ashore alone because of her relationship with you.”

“Those are my thoughts precisely, sir. I would be happy to accompany her today with your permission.”

Elliot brushed at his mustache to hide a grimace. No surprises there. “Granted, but I recommend you go ashore after dark so the ye—” He bit off his words, recalling Su-Mei’s presence. “So you’re not seen.”

“Yes, sir. We will go ashore at sunset, sir.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Su-Mei and Higgins spent the day discussing their future in England. Higgins told her about his hometown in Yorkshire and his family and how happy they would be in England. “Darling, my family, the villagers—they may take some time to accept you, but I’m sure they will fall in love with you just as I did.”

Su-Mei nodded, although she couldn’t imagine what it would be like in a new land where she knew no one except her husband. It would be quite a challenge to adapt to an entirely new lifestyle, but she was hopeful that she would find happiness in England, especially with her Travers. There was no further hope for happiness in her own country, she knew.

By three o’clock, Higgins stopped their conversation, looked at Su-Mei, and said, “My love, I know your traditions around mourning, and I respect them, but I think we should get married now, on board this ship, so we can be husband and wife. We have already consummated our love for each other, and nothing would make me happier than to call you Mrs. Higgins.”

Su-Mei wrinkled her forehead. “What is consomay?”

Higgins turned red. Putting his arms around Su-Mei, he whispered in her ear. “‘Consummate’ means we have physically expressed our love for each other—in the bedchamber.”

Su-Mei found she no longer cared about Confucian philosophy and familial piety. She gave Higgins a big smile. “I be you wife, Misses Tlaves Heegans.”

Higgins leaped to his feet and jumped and danced with joy. Su-Mei laughed out loud, watching the man she loved go crazy. It was the first time she’d felt anything like happiness in a year of tragedy and death.

Sir Gordon Bremer, captain of the Wellesley, was pleased to officiate the wedding. Elliot agreed to be Higgins’s best man, and a small ceremony was held in the Wellesley’s makeshift chapel, which was in the same dining room where Chi San and the Chinese entourage had been humiliated by Elliot.

Su-Mei was the only woman on board the Wellesley, and she had no toilet articles or a change of clothes. The ship’s cook also knew how to mend clothes, and he took a shirt from the smallest sailor on board and turned it into something that looked like a woman’s garment for her. Su-Mei appreciated the gesture but felt very strange wearing something that looked so ridiculous. Everything is ridiculous in my life now, she thought, so this is perfect!

The crew celebrated the newlyweds, and the cook made them a sumptuous wedding feast. When the sun began to sink toward the horizon, Mr. and Mrs. Travers Higgins climbed into a landing boat with a sailor who rowed it toward Fu-Moon Fort, where, only hours ago, death and destruction had dominated the atmosphere. They were met by the landing force at Fu-Moon, who offered to accompany the couple to Su-Mei’s house. Higgins thought it would be more prudent for them to meet with Pai Chu alone, so he declined the offer.

Pai Chu, still in pain from her brutal assault, had lost track of time and reality. She played with the soldier’s rifle, stabbing him a few times with his own bayonet and cursing at him. The Baker rifle, standard issue in the British infantry, used paper cartridges filled with gunpowder and a single .625 caliber carbine bullet. It didn’t take long for Pai Chu to figure out how the rifle worked. She would be ready for the next foreign devil who came along.

The Higginses took the bamboo forest way to avoid being seen. It was dark, but there was a full moon, so they could see where they were going. When they saw the house, they noticed that the lanterns had not been lit and it was dark inside. Higgins and Su-Mei entered the house carefully, wrinkling their noses. They couldn’t see much, but it was obvious that something horrible had happened—the cottage smelled of death.

Higgins spotted something on the floor. He approached it and slipped and fell in a pool of blood. Su-Mei lit a lantern, and when their eyes adjusted to the light, both of them gasped to see a mutilated body on the floor.

“Pai Chu, where are you?” Su-Mei shouted. Before she could finish her words, Pai Chu appeared out of the darkness. She wore nothing but a blanket draped over her shoulder. Blood covered her body. The expression on her face frightened Higgins and Su-Mei far more than the carnage.

“I told you these foreign devils were evil and bad!” she screeched. “Look what they did to me and my mother!”

“Pai Chu, what happened?” Su-Mei’s first instinct was to go to her, but she hesitated when she noticed that Pai Chu clutched a British rifle, aiming it at Higgins.

“He is going to rape you too, like this dog raped me, but I got him!” Her laughter was shrill. “Look at him now!”

“Pai Chu, put that gun down,” said Su-Mei carefully. “You’re safe now—put it down.”

“He is going to rape you—don’t you see, Su-Mei? He doesn’t love you like I love you! All he wants is to hurt you, but I’m going to protect you, my love, so don’t worry!”

Higgins didn’t understand a word Pai Chu said, but he knew something had gone very wrong. He moved in front of Su-Mei to protect her just in case the gun went off.

“Pai Chu, look at me,” said Su-Mei as she stepped to the side to face her. “Look at me! Higgins is a good man, and he is here to help you. We can all go to England together and be happy there. Now put the gun down!”

“You are going to England with this dog?” said Pai Chu incredulously. “But you can’t! He will hurt you and abandon you, just like what happened to my mother. But don’t worry—I will protect you. Now die, you raping dog!” She aimed the rifle at Higgins, finger on the trigger, when the adrenaline set off another bout of projectile vomiting. As she heaved, all the muscles in her upper body flexed, jerking her fingers against the rifle.

The bullet struck the wall behind Higgins. He ran toward Pai Chu to grab the rifle from her, and she shoved the bayonet right through his stomach.

Su-Mei screamed and reached for him. She saw blood spewing out of his wound. “Pai Chu, what have you done? He is my husband, and you just stabbed him! We came here to take you with us! What have you done?”

Pai Chu watched Su-Mei as she tried to tend to Higgins’s wound. He began to cough up blood. Through the fog in her mind, she realized that Su-Mei was lost to her forever.

“What did you just say? You married this English dog? How could you do that? I’m the one who loves you! I’m the one who can protect you!” Her voice was ragged with pain and betrayal.

“Pai Chu, what have you done? What have you done?” Su-Mei kept repeating. “You have gone crazy, crazy! I love him—not you! He is my husband! You are my sister! Don’t you understand that?”

Pai Chu rolled her eyes, feeling a surge of anger. “Well, if I can’t have you in life, then let’s die together, here and now.” She charged with the bayonet just as Su-Mei moved, slicing her arm as she passed.

Su-Mei grabbed Higgins’s knife from his belt, the same one that had stabbed Pai Chu in Macau, and as Pai Chu raised the rifle to strike again, Su-Mei screamed and ran the knife through Pai Chu’s heart, killing her instantly. She dropped the knife, running with blood, and collapsed next to Higgins.

Higgins could feel his lung filling up with fluid instead of air. The pain was excruciating, but he was conscious for all of it.

“Mrs. Travers Higgins,” Higgins could hardly speak as he coughed up more blood, “you are one brave woman!”

“We go back ship, go to Engand, get up, get up!” Su-Mei cried, fear constricting her chest.

Higgins grabbed the rifle on the floor next to Pai Chu’s body and used it to help himself get up, but he was too weak to stand. Su-Mei tried her best to support him, but she wasn’t strong enough, and he collapsed to the floor.

“What is going on here?” Wen Jing stood in the open door, staring incredulously. He had decided to return to the cottage after the British landing force occupied Fu-Moon—after dark to avoid being stopped. He had watched as San San fainted into the foreign devil’s arms and was carried onto a boat, so he’d assumed her cousin would be the only person at the cottage. And yet here were two dead bodies, the injured British sailor, and San San trying to help him.

“Master Wen, please help us! Pai Chu went crazy and stabbed my husband! He is injured and needs to get to his ship!”

“Your what?” Wen Jing stared. “Did you say husband? You married a foreign devil?” He paused. “Who killed your cousin?”

“It’s a long story, Master Wen, and I’ll explain later,” said Su-Mei, “but my husband needs help now. Can you help us get him back to his ship? Please!”

Wen Jing could see the situation was a desperate one, but he’d just witnessed the bloody aftermath of the battle in which so many of his countrymen had been killed trying to defend their homeland. He was fond of San San, but he felt conflicted about helping the enemy.

He heard himself say, “Your husband’s people just killed so many of our people—aren’t you ashamed of being married to one of them?”

Su-Mei shook her head. “Master Wen, I assure you that my husband did not kill anyone. He only joined the navy so he could come back to China and find me. Please help us!” An idea came to her. “Master Wen, I have over three hundred taels of silver here. You can have all of it if you help me bring my husband back to Fu-Moon right now.”

“What? Three hundred taels? Where did you get it?”

“It doesn’t matter—you can have it all!” Su-Mei ran to the bed and reached behind it, pulling out three heavy bags. “Please, take all of it, but help me get my husband back to his ship!”

Wen Jing had never seen so much silver. Such a fortune could change his life forever. “San San, or whatever your real name is, I don’t know what’s going on here! You come from a wealthy family, just as I suspected.”

“Yes, yes,” said Su-Mei impatiently. “I am guilty of lying to you, but for good reasons that I will explain. But I need your help now to bring my husband to his ship. Won’t you help us?”

“For three hundred taels of silver, I will help you, but I don’t want to be seen by anyone, or they’ll think I’m a traitor like you,” Wen Jing said. “We’ll go through the bamboo forest instead of the main road.”

“But it will take longer, Master Wen, and I fear my husband is seriously injured. He needs help right away.”

“We either go through the bamboo forest or I leave you here,” said Wen Jing.

Su-Mei disappeared around the back of the house and came back with the wheelbarrow. Higgins had lost a lot of blood and was feeling very weak, but he managed to stand and hang on to Su-Mei and Wen Jing until they deposited him in it. He cried out in pain, but then clamped his jaws together.

“You push, Master Wen,” said Su-Mei. She handed Higgins a pile of clean rags to press against his wound. She covered him with a blanket and her coat. “Let’s go.”

It took about an hour to reach the demolished fort through the bamboo forest by the light of the full moon; the journey would have taken much longer in darkness. Su-Mei cried out loud for help as soon as she saw British soldiers standing guard. Higgins, disoriented from blood loss, confirmed whatever story Su-Mei told the soldiers. They helped him and Su-Mei into a boat, and two soldiers rowed with all possible haste to the Wellesley.

When he regained consciousness, Higgins was in the infirmary, looking into the genial face of Medical Officer Davies, the Wellesley’s surgeon, who only a few hours ago had celebrated his wedding. Beyond him Higgins could see Su-Mei sitting very upright in a chair, her hands clasped in her lap. Her long hair, always so neatly combed and pinned up to cascade down her back, hung disheveled and in tangles. Her face was smudged with blood and tears, and the rims of her eyes were red. Higgins was fading in and out of consciousness as he felt the energy draining out of his body.

“Well?” rasped Higgins. “How bad is it, sir?” He attempted a grin.

Davies grinned back, but his eyes betrayed his concern. “You’ve sustained severe blood loss, Lieutenant, and your kidney is damaged. The bayonet didn’t sever any arteries, and that is the only reason you’re still with us. Be brave now, lad.” He glanced briefly at Su-Mei and then back to Higgins. “Would you like to speak to the chaplain?”

Higgins shook his head and asked for Su-Mei instead.

“My dearest,” he could hardly whisper when she crouched at his side, “I die a happy man, my love, because of you.”

“No! No—you no die!” she interrupted. “You live, take me Engand. We live Engand happy. You my hesbun, you my life, you my Travers Higgins!”

“My darling, you finally pronounced my name!” Higgins smiled weakly as he spoke his last words.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Su-Mei stared out toward the wreckage of Fu-Moon as her husband was buried at sea. Captain Bremer conducted the service with the crew in attendance, caps in their hands and eyes cast down to the deck. Her face showed no emotion. She was exhausted from weeping and trying to block out the images of Higgins dying and the expression on Pai Chu’s face when she had run Higgins’s knife through her heart. Her world was in ashes. She looked up to the heavens and wanted to curse God, but she couldn’t muster the energy to speak the words.

Higgins’s death was a blow to the entire crew—he had been a well-liked officer, always good to his men, and an excellent navigator, steering his ship away from harm and staying calm through dangerous maneuvers. A cloud of sadness overshadowed the Wellesley, and not just for Higgins—many of the crew had witnessed the destruction and carnage they’d caused at Fu-Moon close up, and they felt remorse, knowing in their hearts that the entire war had been waged to protect Englishmen’s profits.

Both Elliot and Bremer fell ill soon after, and they retreated to Macau on the Nemesis, leaving strict orders not to attack Canton until further notice. Su-Mei traveled with them. Captain Hall, who had executed his orders dutifully, repressing his personal feelings of shame and remorse, insisted that Higgins’s widow take his cabin. She didn’t speak or eat, lying sleepless on the captain’s bunk, staring at the crucifix mounted above her head.

As the Nemesis approached Macau, Su-Mei watched the large cross on the steeple of Sao Lourenco growing nearer. The memory of her first Mass assaulted her senses. Bright sparks flickered before her eyes, and she felt dizzy and warm. She felt the touch of the Holy Spirit in her heart for the first time since she’d left the convent. Her pulse racing and her mind suddenly clear, she dropped to her knees and made the sign of the cross. Yes, Mother Amanda, she thought, as the words of the Lord’s Prayer rose to her lips in English, God does work in mysterious ways, and everything must happen according to his plan.

Mother Amanda was waiting at the docks. She had received the news of Mr. Higgins’s death, but she was still shocked to see this shadow of the vibrant girl who had left the convent a year earlier. Su-Mei didn’t say a word, just held on to Mother Amanda, too exhausted to even cry.

Su-Mei moved into her former room at the convent and tried to pick up her life where it had left off. She attended Mass, helped the novices in the orphanage, and she and Mother Amanda prayed together often, sometimes for hours. It was almost a week before she could talk about what happened.

“I understand and accept that God works in mysterious ways and all things are meant to be,” she said, “but I still feel so guilty! I could have convinced my brother to leave if I’d only tried harder, or offered him money, or stopped giving him money. And I could have left Fu-Moon with Travers and sailed for England, and he and Pai Chu would both be alive now.”

“Sister Su-Mei,” Mother Amanda said, “you have been sorely tested. Sister Pai Chu was a troubled soul. She needed direction and nurturing, and I sent her away from the only home she’d ever known. If there is to be blame for her death, let it be on my shoulders, not yours.” She was silent for a few moments, clasping the wooden cross she wore at her belt. “I hope you will stay with us while you mourn and recover from your losses and let our Lord heal you with his grace and love.”

Su-Mei brushed away her tears. “I want to devote the rest of my life to God in reparation for my sins and those of my father. I want to join the order as a novice.”

Mother Amanda enveloped Su-Mei in her arms. “My child, you are already God’s beloved servant, whatever your path should be. But this is a big decision, and I know that you have been,” she paused delicately, “impulsive in the past, and you have just suffered a great shock. You must take some time to consider before making even this first step.”

“But, Mother Amanda—”

“No, my child. You will continue your studies with me, and in time you will take the Holy Sacraments of baptism and communion. When you are more firmly grounded in our faith, you will be able to make a mature decision, and I will pray nightly that the Lord will guide you onto the best path to perform his works in this world.”

Su-Mei opened her mouth to object—she had spent so many years resisting the laws of her father’s household and traditional Chinese culture that arguing and demanding her way had become second nature. But Mother Amanda was right and so much wiser than she could ever hope to be.

“You have seen many terrible things, Sister Su-Mei, and also experienced the great love between a husband and a wife. Let our humble convent restore you for a time.”

Su-Mei spent her days in study and prayer and found the simple rules of the religious life comforting. She rose early every day, worked hard, and surrounded herself with plain clothing, furnishings, and food. Some of the peace she’d experienced in her little cottage outside Fu-Moon began to return. The nuns and novices and the priest who became her confessor all treated her gently, but as an equal and not as a noble lady or a tragic victim.

After several weeks at the convent, she began to have difficulty concentrating on her studies and meditations. Her mind was fuzzy, and she was often nauseated or tired. Mother Amanda suspected the source of her symptoms long before she did.

“My dear Sister Su-Mei, you are with child.”

Su-Mei, despite her sheltered upbringing, knew how babies came into the world, and she had worried about becoming pregnant after her beloved Travers left for England. When her monthly courses continued, she suspected that she was simply not fertile, and it never occurred to her that their last night together on board the Wellesley would result in a new life.

She could hardly think with the shock of the announcement and the fog that the pregnancy was creating in her brain. “What—what must I do, Mother Amanda?”

“You have a difficult choice. You are a respectable widow—at least here in Macau—so you may raise the child on your own and perhaps, in time, marry again. I will do my best to find some kind of employment for you so that you can support yourself and your child. You are bright and you speak English, so you may be able to find work translating or tutoring.” Mother Amanda’s words were hopeful, but her eyes were filled with concern.

“But I cannot stay here?”

“Not with a child. God has placed you at a crossroads, and you must choose between motherhood and the religious life. Both are vocations of great devotion and value to the world, but they are not mutually compatible.”

“How long do I have to decide?”

Mother Amanda thought carefully before choosing her next words. “You will deliver your child in early Advent, I believe. The convent has been known to shelter unwed girls in the family way. You, of course, are not one of those, but there would be nothing inappropriate in your staying here until your child is born. After that, if it is your sincere desire to take holy orders, you know what you must do.”

“I have to choose between serving God and raising Travers’s child.”

Mother Amanda smiled sadly and nodded. “I have faith that you will serve God in whichever path you take, and I pray that he will help you with this difficult decision.”

Su-Mei wept in her room, in the gardens, in the convent kitchen, in the chapel. She lit candles and prayed to the Virgin, who had also been a mother. It’s not fair! she railed to herself. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved, and now I must give up my own child? Why, Lord? she wanted to shout. Why must the cost of serving you be so high?

She grew so accustomed to crying that she no longer noticed her tears. “Sister, why are you crying?” asked a young girl one morning while she was sweeping the orphanage refectory after breakfast.

Su-Mei touched her own cheeks, startled to find them wet. “I—well, I’m remembering some people I loved who are gone now.”

The girl nodded. “Your parents?”

“Yes!” said Su-Mei, surprised. “And my brothers and sisters, and someone else I loved dearly.” She looked around the refectory, which she had thought was empty. “Why are you sitting in here alone?”

The girl made a face. “Sister Theresa is punishing me for not learning my scripture verses. She says I’m disobedient and must sit here all morning.”

“Do you have a hard time reading your Bible?” Su-Mei asked. “I can help you if you do.”

“No,” said the girl proudly. “I’m the second-best reader in my class. But the garden was so pretty, and I didn’t want to sit indoors and study.”

Su-Mei smiled and reached out her hand. “Well, you’re not going to learn anything sitting on that stool. Why don’t we fetch your Bible, and we’ll go and study your verses in the garden. You can learn them just as well out there.”

The girl hopped off the stool, thrilled at her good luck. “Won’t Sister Theresa be angry with you?”

“She probably will,” said Su-Mei, “but I’m a little disobedient too.”

As her body grew and her energetic pace slowed, her prayers changed. Please, Blessed Virgin, help me do what is best for my child, for the last earthly remnant of my Travers. Help us both find peace.

In early December Sister Su-Mei gave birth to a beautiful, healthy son and gave him up to the orphanage. It was a choice that tore at her heart, but she knew she belonged in the religious life, and there was no room there for motherhood. Two years after her return to St. Anthony’s, she took the veil as Sister Catherine, choosing that name in remembrance of the typhoon that changed her life forever. She liked the idea of a constant reminder that life takes unexpected paths and God works in mysterious ways.

When Mother Amanda died at a venerable age, Sister Catherine was asked to take over the orphanage, a position she held until she was no longer able to work. If she had not been a widow, she might have been offered the position of mother superior. For her devotion and the care and love she gave to generations of orphans, Sister Catherine was invited to Rome to meet the pope, and she lived the rest of her life at the convent in peace and holy contemplation.

Her infant son was adopted by a Chinese family in Macau and grew up without ever knowing his background. A century later, a billionaire who owned and operated the most profitable casino in Macau reflected in an interview that his ancestors were of mixed race, but their identities had always been a mystery.

Epilogue

As soon as the British navy destroyed the forts at Fu-Moon and opened up the Pearl River’s entrance into Canton, opium ships from Jardine and Matheson started to bring in their cargo. Charles Elliot tried to delay them—it was too soon after the hostilities—but his orders were ignored. Matheson in Macau wrote to Jardine in England that “the opium bond in force before Lin’s time is to be revived.”

Many Chinese merchants had fled Canton, but when word reached them that the British were ready to resume trade, the lure of tremendous profits was enough to motivate them to return. With the special emissary discharged and the city in chaos, the smugglers were ready to deal with Chinese merchants who were ready to buy opium and sell Chinese merchandise to the country that had just bombed their empire, occupied their territory, and killed many of their own.

Outside Canton, when word got out that their homeland was under attack, many people took up arms to fight any British soldier they encountered. The emperor was distraught when news reached him of Fu-Moon’s defeat and Hong Kong’s occupation. He dispatched several thousand men to march toward Canton. Elliot, realizing that hostilities were about to resume, ordered troops to occupy the high ground north of Canton to meet the Chinese army. All the while, British and Chinese merchants conducted their trade inside the factories, trading millions of pounds of tea for Chinese silver.

The Chinese army was easily beaten back when they encountered the British. Elliot ordered limited retaliations to spare as many civilian deaths as he could. He worked hard to quell the aggressive urges of his commanders, who were eager to annihilate the Chinese and end the war. The object of these hostilities was to force China into a trade agreement that benefited England—conquering the entire country was never part of the plan. After all, Parliament had barely passed the resolution authorizing military force. Elliot’s motives were interpreted as weakness, and the generals began writing reports to England to complain.

Skirmishes erupted between resentful villagers and British troops; the most noteworthy happened at San-yuan Li, where the village militia caused severe casualties. The British ordered the governor of Guangzhou, Yu Baochun, to tell his militia to back down or they would burn Canton to the ground. The villagers in San-yuan Li were considered heroes nonetheless.

Back in Canton, Chinese officials were so afraid of British reprisals that they offered a ransom of six million pounds. Elliot accepted it, but it was nowhere near enough to cover the military expedition and pay back the merchants for their confiscated opium.

Meanwhile, the complaints about Charles Elliot’s leadership resulted in his recall to London. He was replaced by Sir Henry Pottinger, a veteran warrior eager to use all the power at his disposal to reach a final settlement. He wasted no time sending the Nemesis, the seventy-four-gun ships, and all necessary troops to attack Amoy, which fell easily. The expedition moved on to take Tinghai and then Ningpo. British troops looted the villages for food and anything else worth taking. Pottinger even sanctioned the theft of Chinese antiquities and silver.

The emperor sent his cousin Iching with troops and an imperial edict to “drive the British into the sea,” but Iching was no warrior, and he was no match for the ruthless Pottinger. More than five hundred of Iching’s troops were massacred at Ningpo when he failed to retake the city, resulting in not a single British casualty. There were small skirmishes that followed, but the Chinese military was beaten back every time and suffered heavy losses.

The British expedition in the Middle East was a different story, costing far more than expected in lives and pounds sterling, and power in Parliament was shifting. Prime Minister Melbourne resigned and was replaced by Robert Peel, and Lord Palmerston was replaced by Lord Aberdeen as foreign secretary. The new leaders were concerned about England’s losses and wanted to put an end to the costly Chinese expedition. They urged Pottinger to reach an advantageous resolution as soon as possible, sending him several more gunships and troops. These reinforcements gave Pottinger everything he needed to wipe out the Chinese resistance.

Before the reinforcements had arrived, Pottinger already had enough firepower to attack any city he wanted. He chose the walled town of Chapu, north of Hangchow, and won the battle easily. Outdated cannons, arrows, swords, and spears were no match for Baker rifles and modern long-range artillery, not to mention better-trained soldiers. Many Chinese of Manchurian descent killed themselves in Chapu rather than suffer the shame of defeat by Pottinger’s forces.

After Chapu the British generals elected to strike one devastating blow to bring the Chinese to the negotiating table. Their strategy was to choke off the Grand Canal where it crossed the Yangtze River, effectively blocking all commercial traffic. On June 13, 1842, Pottinger brought a full array of battleships to destroy all the defenses along the river. The Woosung forts fired all their 175 cannons against the Royal Navy— to no effect.

Pottinger moved on to attack Shanghai three days later. This was an important city for commerce and served as a terminal for ships delivering goods everywhere along the Yangtze, which was almost half of China. In three thousand years of history, the Yangtze River had never witnessed so many foreign battleships on its waters.

When all the reinforcements sent by Parliament arrived, Pottinger decided it was time to move. He was in control of the Yangtze River, which led right into Nanking. Once the battle group arrived, regiments marched into Nanking, the former capital of the Ming Dynasty. It offered little resistance. The Chinese army concentrated its defense in the walled city of Chingkiang, and they fought bravely against the superior British ground troops. The resulting carnage was worse than Ningpo and Fu-Moon. After several days of hard-fought battle, Pottinger’s troops were victorious, and they plundered, burned, and sank anything that floated to intimidate the Chinese. Some smaller cities resorted to bribing the British military with silver to avoid attack—Yangchow paid Pottinger half a million silver taels, which he gladly accepted on behalf of the British government.

And the bad news kept coming for Emperor Dao Kwong. City after city fell and were plundered, but he was most concerned that the Yangtze River was choked off, as it was the conduit that fed the capital and most of China. He felt as if his entire empire was about to collapse and the British military would march right up to Peking. The Ching Dynasty would crumble, for the first time in China’s history, to a Western power. Left with no options, the emperor dispatched two special emissaries to negotiate. Kiying and Ilipu left Peking on April 15, 1842, on a mission to minimize China’s losses and save face for its emperor.

Pottinger refused to meet with them unless they had absolute power to make decisions without going back and forth to Peking. Both Kiying and Ilipu were afraid to take on such responsibilities and insisted that their representatives first meet with Pottinger so the details could be worked out ahead of time. Pottinger responded by moving his largest gunships directly in front of the walls of Nanking. He indicated that the battle group would advance to Peking if the negotiations didn’t move forward; but, knowing the emperor had to approve the terms, Pottinger first sent Kiying and Ilipu a draft of the treaty outlining Britain’s demands. Kiying and Ilipu dispatched the treaty to Peking with all haste for the emperor’s approval before they formally accepted it on his behalf.

The treaty made no mention of opium. It demanded payment of twenty-one million pounds in compensation for the military expedition and the “British merchandise” that was destroyed; the opening of five ports: Canton, Amoy, Foochow, Ningpo, and Shanghai, for British settlements and “free trade” (meaning opium); and British consulates in those five cities. It also demanded open trade on all goods without going through the court-appointed hongs who held a monopoly on Western commerce. Most importantly, the treaty demanded that the island of Hong Kong be ceded to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, in perpetuity. Pottinger made it clear that this point was nonnegotiable, especially since British troops had already occupied Hong Kong without any treaties.

Emperor Dao Kwong couldn’t agree to every item in the draft treaty without losing face, so he denied the British the city of Foochow. Pottinger, understanding the delicacy of the situation, conceded. The treaty was formalized and signed on board the Cornwallis on August 29, 1842, with much fanfare from the British, who fired a twenty-one-gun salute to celebrate the end of hostilities. History would refer to this as the Treaty of Nanking.

With Hong Kong under British ownership, the Jardine and Matheson Company was quick to establish itself there with the drug money it had been accumulating for decades. William Jardine didn’t live to see how his company would dominate—he died of pulmonary edema on February 27, 1843. He never married and had no children, so his nephew, Andrew Johnstone, together with James Matheson, took over the company and quickly expanded into property, infrastructure, and a host of other businesses while continuing to smuggle opium into China. They finally stopped smuggling opium near the end of the nineteenth century, after the Second Opium War, which forced China to make even more concessions and made the entire kingdom feel like a Western colony until after the Second World War. Opium imports more than doubled during this period, and smugglers continued to profit.

Today descendants of the Jardine family from William’s sister, the Keswicks, still control the Jardine and Matheson Company, Limited, one of the largest conglomerates in Hong Kong. It’s now a publicly listed company with annual revenues of over US$80 billion, with the Keswicks firmly in control. The company owns prime properties in Hong Kong, including the famed Mandarin Oriental Hotels, the Excelsior Hotel, Exchange Square (super-prime office towers), and countless enterprises, including insurance, shipping, automobile dealerships, railways, and dairies, just to mention a few. Jardine Hills, Jardine’s Corner, and Jardine’s Lookout, where the wealthy own large estates in midlevel Hong Kong, recall the legacy of its founder. The company owned the Star Ferry (now owned by a Chinese real estate mogul), which connected Hong Kong to Kowloon. Britain signed a ninety-nine-year lease on Kowloon and the New Territories in 1898; the United Kingdom officially returned all of Hong Kong, Kowloon, and the New Territories to China on July 1, 1997, ending over a century of British dominance.

Many statues have been erected in China to commemorate Special Emissary Lin Tse-Hsu’s efforts to stop the opium trade, but the ghosts of millions of drug addicts and soldiers killed defending their homeland continue to cry out for justice.

Acknowledgments

Many people supported my efforts while I did my research and during the writing process, and I owe my heartfelt appreciation for their kindness.

My wife and I took a trip to Guangzhou in December 2017 and visited Fu-Moon Fort, the Opium War Museum, and other historical sites that were relevant to the Opium Wars. The trip was arranged through our friend Dr. Min Zhou, professor of sociology and Asian American studies and director of the Asia Pacific Center at the University of California, Los Angeles, who arranged for us to meet with the best scholars in China on the subject. She and her husband, Sam Guo, were most gracious and helpful to us throughout the trip and continue their support even today.

Through Professor Min we were able to meet with preeminent scholars and administrators in China who have written or lectured on the Opium Wars. Specifically, I would like to thank:

- Professor Haijian Mao of the University of Macau

- Professor Zhiwei Liu of Sun Yat-sen University

- Professor Guoxuan Cai, president of Guangzhou Institute of Socialism, who accompanied us to Humen (Fu-Moon)

I spent numerous hours with them, gleaning their cogent perspectives on what caused the Opium Wars.

Last, but not least, I would like to give my sincerest thanks for the excellent work done by The Artful Editor. Owner Naomi Kim Eagleson and staff editor Denise Logsdon did a stupendous job. Denise researched British vocabulary and idiom from the 1800s so the dialogue would sound authentic, and her excellent prose breathed life into my characters and added color and sparkle to my storyline. I am indeed fortunate to have worked with them!

Resources

For those who are interested in learning more about the Opium Wars, I would like to offer the following resources that I found quite useful in my research:

- The Opium War, 1840–1842: Barbarians in the Celestial Empire in the Early Part of the Nineteenth Century and the War by Which They Forced Her Gates Ajar by Peter Ward Fay, who meticulously chronicled actual events in his book

- The Qing Empire and the Opium War by Mao Haijian, who exhibited a thorough understanding and analysis of events and characters who played a role

- Opium and Empire: The Lives and Careers of William Jardine and James Matheson by Richard J. Grace

- Foreign Mud: Being an Account of the Opium Imbroglio at Canton in the 1830s and the Anglo-Chinese War that Followed by Maurice Collis

- The Opium Wars: The Addiction of One Empire and the Corruption of Another by W. Travis Hanes and Frank Sanello

- Imperial Twilight: The Opium War and the End of China’s Last Golden Age by Stephen R. Platt

- The Opium War: Drugs, Dreams, and the Making of Modern China by Julia Lovell

- Wealth and Power: China’s Long March to the Twenty-First Century by Orville Schell and John Delury

William Jardine

James Matheson

Sir Charles Elliot

Chief Superintendent of British Trade in China (1836-1841),

Administrator of Hong Kong (1841)

(Full credit: Pictures from History / Granger, NYC—All rights reserved.)

Sir Henry Pottinger

Supreme Commander of China military expedition after Charles Elliot was recalled

William Hutcheon Hall

Captain of HMS Nemesis

Lord Palmerston

A model of the Nemesis, England’s first steam-powered gunship

(Photograph taken at the Humen Naval Museum)

Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy

Commissioner Lin with an imperial commission from the Daoguange Emperor to halt the illegal importation of opium by the British, destroying thousands of chests of opium

Lin Tse-Hsu (Lin Zexu)

Imperial Special Emissary put in charge of eradicating opium

Emperor Daoguang

General Guan Tien Pui - Guan Tianpei
Commander of the Guangdong Water Force

Old Hong Kong

Modern-day Hong Kong

Jardine corporate tower in Hong Kong

Opium addict

Opium storage ships or floating godowns at Canton (Guangzhou) harbor, late 19th century

(Full credit: Pictures from History / Granger, NYC—All rights reserved.)

Foot binding

British and Chinese officials on board HMS Wellesley a day before the capture of Chusan in the First Opium War

(Full credit: Pictures from History / Granger, NYC—All rights reserved.)

Canton Harbor and Factories with Foreign Flags, c. 1805 China

(Full credit: Peabody Essex Museum 2007. Photo Jeffrey R. Dykes)