A Brittle Autumn Strength, Zhangzhou' 41 Huzhou '42 {1841-42}
Dear Mother,
You cannot imagine the beauty I have seen! Although your gracious correspondence and admiration of the lacquerware that I had acquired the family is much appreciated, you will of course understand how secondary it is to my discovery of the true wealth of China! At last I have began to glean how so much profit is to be made of so distant a land, so unattainable and exotic! Clearly, I was wrong to mistake the simple factories of the Chinese coast as industrial structures. True wealth, as the Osskissons have always known, comes from the soil! Or so Yelu tells me- we are setting out from Zhangzhou in the hopes of reaching Huzhou; Yelu tells me that therein lies the great opportunities I have been searching for.
Honestly, I began to tire of these long journeys and crave nothing more than the warmth of the fire and the grating banter of Father and Sylvester! Oh, how I do jest, Mother. Only in dreams and in these writings can I come close to arriving back home with the a smile in my eye and the wealth that will be trickling down - soon! -as of Manna from the Heavens. As always, with much love-
Clark
An ancient Theravada establishment in Luang Prabang
A piercing note cut through Clark's concentration as the distinctive gentle humming of an erhu cut through the small encampment Yelu had prepared. Laying back against a tall cottonwood tree, there was an expression of serene concentration upon the old man's face as he plucked away with determination at the strings, filling the April air with a lilting melody. Clark had intended to say something cutting for being interrupted from his writing, but instead found himself slipping the letter into the somewhat battered pocket of his brown walking-coat, and similarly resting against the green grass. Minutes passed as Yelu played, finally broken by his rasping voice asking - "... You've got a question, don't you? Hah. You've been very patient, listening to an old man indulge his passion for music so. Ask away - then I might play for a bit more. It is a lovely moon, for music..."
Clark sighed and stared at the full moon hovering so tantalizingly in the spring sky. Feeling the barbs of his somewhat impressive beard, he began to wonder how Hong Mei Ling kept his face so clean; Yelu could only grow a patchy grey stubble, which he seemed to view as distinctive. Bracing himself, Clark risked one more glance at the moon, and asked his question. "Yelu - why does the Daoguang empire march to war, once again? Why so much bloodshed for such little gain?"
A haunting melody started up again, only to cut itself short, like a hesitant question.
In January, the Qing Red Banner had entered Luang Prabang, and simply refused to leave.
Several moments later, the playing resumed, this time quick of tempo and energetic. "To ensure that the Qing retain the mandate of heaven." Yelu's words were jocular, but tinged with stale regret. "If you believe in such things, it's as important as Victoria's sunlit realm, or your own manifest destiny. If you put so much power into an idea, it becomes real." The tune reached a crescendo, and collapsed into silence. "And the military needs employment. Just keeping the peace isn't enough... You've seen that. Internal dissidents are too hard to fight, so the Emperor prefers to manufacture external enemies."
The Dai Li garrisoned most of the streets and soon controlled the apparatus of state. Nothing changed.
Clark turned his thoughts inward as Yelu begin to play again - the song took on an incredibly melancholic note, and in the dim light of the moon Clark began to imagine a different Yelu, younger and less gruff, tending to some pastoral fields or fishing in the noon sun. He chuckled under his breath, but couldn't tell if it was because the image was humorous, or depressing. Oddly, he began to ponder how old Mei Ling must have been when whatever happened to his brother had occurred.
Clark, old boy. Pull yourself together. You need to ask.
Getting together the last remnants of both his courage and his wakefulness, Clark waited for a singular lilt in the music as Yelu stopped to think of his next song. "One more question, my friend... But of diverse nature. Then, I shall let you practice your erhu in peace." Yelu grunted non-commitally, and began to play again; but the question escaped before his fingers could reach the strings. "How do you know Hong Mei Ling? And why are you bothering to take a.... a bother, like me, up to Beijing? I can only assume we're going up the coast with a purpose, and I very much doubt that it has anything to do with me."
Shoulders sagging against the cottonwood, Yelu opened his eyes and stared at Clark intently. "Mei Ling is like my own son. He is everything I would like to be, but am too cowardly to be. I would gladly put his life above my own. But I do not want to see Yama just yet - there is much I would like to see and do. And although perhaps, there are duties I should be doing, well... Is there some law that says a bitter soldier cannot travel the countryside with a wayward adventurer? To keep an eye on him of course!" Yelu seemed to find this highly amusing, and began to laugh raucously. "You know, you're right though, we are going to Beijing. But slowly. You will be overwhelmed when you see it - and at first, there are some other things I need you to see."
You do not realize how soon everything will be gone, Clark. Neither does she...
The two were silent for some time before Clark spoke again with a sleepy drawl. "Thanks, Yelu. But, tell me... Who is this Yama fellow?" The air remained silent for a split second before Yelu begin to play again, a slight, toothy grin spreading onto his face. "The Judge of the Dead." And with another laugh, Yelu begin to play a cheerful song, one that seemed to celebrate the light spring air as Clark struggled to remain awake and failed, drifting into a deep sleep filled with a hundred exotic stories as his brother stared at him with slabs of coal wedged into his eyes...
And in his dreams, he glided along rail-cart tracks to a shimmering land of marble and gold. Burnished red and black hair fell from the palace throne like a fountain...
The next few weeks were the similar slow days of travel that Clark had grown used to. Sometimes, they did not travel far at all, but simply explored the same place Yelu had decided to set up camp yesterday. Yelu explained to him the beautiful simplicity of things like a peach tree, and in return Clark began to find that he had stories of well - when little Ariabella was sick in bed, and the entire family cared for her, missing school and work and surviving on the grit of their teeth. Yelu had said nothing, but stared into the distance with a sorrowful expression; and the two had continued to move. As they made their way towards Huzhou, the next stop on their journey, Yelu had pulled him aside with the most serious expression Clark had ever seen. "Listen. No matter what you see here, Clark, you must understand - this is the source of half of China's wealth. The other we shall see in Beijing. If you know this, you can always abuse it. Everyone has always had that power, and that risk. The only difference is that now you know. Do you still want to continue your journey?"
He hadn't even thought about his response. Clark smiled self-confidentially. His family would never go for want again. "Of course. There's only one choice, isn't there?" Yelu nodded back, seemingly pleased with this answer, and they headed towards the main roads. Soon, a town - moderately sized, with wide streets bustling with activity - swam into view. Children ran along the paths, and the clatter of carts rang through the streets. Clark raised one eyebrow as Yelu led him into town; a middle-aged woman wearing baggy cloth and impossibly tiny shoes caught his gaze with her unreadable expression. She vanished back into her house as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Clark with too many questions - and a vague recollection of the fields in the south, where women had gone barefoot or in wide wooden shoes.
His thoughts were cut short as Yelu led him through crowded streets and into a large pavilion, filled with wooden hoop-racks. Several men wandered about, eying them as they teemed with life.
"What is this?" Clark cried out as he began to distinguish tiny white worms contentedly munching the grass that lined the hoops. His loud outcry had the effect of causing a few of the worms to turn, quizzically, as if in response; but soon they went back to eating, ignoring the red-faced man peering over them inquisitorially. One of the cultivators said something under his breath, causing the ranchers to laugh - as did Yelu, who clapped Clark on the back, then pulled the younger man's hand back as he reached forward to touch the wriggling larvae.
"Well, half of China's wealth, Clark. What do you make of it?"
After a few minutes to gather his thoughts and try to vanish into the wall for making such a scene, Clark managed to stammer. "Well, it's all well and good- but is that really half of China's wealth? It just seems rather silly to me that such a tiny thing-" Yelu cut him off, shaking his head. "No, not just the silk worms... Although where did you expect silk comes from?" Clark began to mouth 'trees', but Yelu was too quick. "What else does this scene make you recollect, Osskisson? Think!"
Toiling, in the hot sun of summer. Growing vegetables out by the shade, calluses on our hands; watching Mother through the window as Father told stories about the scars on his hands and knees, and how we'd never have scars like his. The first crop of summer gone to waste, Father going back to the mines. Sweat, and the scent of peppermint and lavender drifting through the garden.
"You're trying to make a point, Yelu. But it's not what I'm looking for." Clark's words were cold and sharp, the opposite of how he felt. But as soon as the words had left his mouth, they couldn't be taken back. Amazingly however, Yelu smiled from ear to ear. "Good enough for me! This was only half of my plan, anyway. Thanks for letting us stop by, Sheng. Please tell your wife hello from me." The target of Yelu's comment, a balding man with a careworn face and a belly that had grown to fill out his clothes, offered a recalcitrant smile, and Yelu motioned for Clark to leave. But Clark did not, still finding himself drawn to the tiny worms; they seemed so content with their lives, yet so unaware - but this fleeting thought passed as well, and Clark walked off, following Yelu to a large house wafting delicious smells and thick smoke.
The same day, peace was declared - the first time that the Daoguang Emperor had sent a delegation to the defeated country in recent history.
The inside of the teahouse walls were thatched over, and several tables lined the floor, covered in colourful cloths. Several men loitered about, talking amongst themselves excitedly. A few were wearing the clothes of bureaucrats, and all had some manner of weapon on their person. As Yelu entered, one of the men rose and walked over, smiling and handing him some taels. "Gaige shi zai zheli!" The man was clearly excited, but Yelu nodded briefly and offered only a slight smile before going on to purchase his tea. Perplexed, the bureaucrat walked back to his group.
"Once again, things move too quickly for me to follow." Yelu mused as he sipped his tea.
Still confused by the day's events, Clark coughed, not having sipped his tea; to his tastes it seemed far too hot. His comments attracted another patron; with a faint smile, Hong Mei Ling jaunted over to the table, looking much better than the last time they had seen him. "What a surprise to see you, Yelu!... And you, Clark. I'd have figured you would have wandered off by now. Is Yelu boring you too much? He has a tendency to ramble, you know..." Mei Ling shot Yelu a sneaky grin, and the old man snorted as if to deny even the remotest possibility of that statement. "Bah! I had though that you were the one wandering around aimlessly, nursing a wounded pride. Not that I am complaining to find you here, of all places. What brings you to Huzhou, Mei Ling?"
Shrugging his slight shoulders, Mei Ling reclined back into a seat. "A sense of adventure, maybe?" Clark groaned and tried to vanish into his seat. "I think I liked you better when you were hitting me, boy. Why so chipper?" Clark was surprised at the ease he found himself offering a genuine smile. "Good news about your brother?" The faint smile on Mei Ling's lips widened into a smirk. "No, not exactly. But something almost as good - reform is here! They say the Daoguang Empire listened to the waves going through the civil service and the artisans. This Middle Kingdom will be bullied no more!" Yelu chuckled to himself at this, and drank another sip of tea; he then motioned to Mei Ling who refilled the cup without blinking. Mei Ling then gestured to Clark, who got the idea and filled Mei Ling's cup. The young man's smile was ecstatic.
The knock of boots began to echo outside however, causing the assorted patrons to cast their eyes towards the door.
A group of finely dressed westerners, men of military age and stature wearing distinctive red uniforms. An officer obviously holding himself to be the leader was wearing a helmet dashed with a large white feather, which was drooping somewhat. The reaction in the room was mixed; a few of the bureaucrats seemed cheerful, while others edged towards handtrawls, aged pistols, or knives. The officer beamed from behind his moustache-sans-beard, and Clark felt a twinge of jealousy; the officer mistook the dour expression for one of solidarity and lumbered over. "Tally-ho, young fellow! What a surprise to see another foreigner on this misty morn!" Clark blinked, unsure how the current weather qualified as either misty or morning. The officer extended his hand; Yelu seemed nonplussed, but Mei Ling was glaring daggers. "Reginald St. John, of her Majesty's Chinese division. Whatever are you doing loitering about in a place like this, boy? You look like you haven't seen a razor for quite some time. What say you to coming down to the mission with us-"
Reginald had hardly finished his offer, to which Clark had began to listen to, when one of the patrons approached, smiling brightly, approached Reginald and begin to ask in very stilted English about reform. Reginald responded back eagerly about the joint-military ventures between the Qing and the British, oblivious to the growing unease of his men. One of the Chinese artisans began to leer at Reginald and his new acquaintance; and in turn a British soldier begin to nervously fiddle with the rifle at his side... Yelu cursed, and pushed both Mei Ling and Clark to the floor. The first shot seemed to be fire by accident, striking Reginald in the side and sending him toppling to the floor, a look of blank-eyed surprise on his face.
Then, the battle was an all-out melee. Clark peered from under the table and saw Yelu moving with fluid grace between the combatants, yanking a rifle from a man who could be no older than nineteen and snapping it across his knee like a twig before turning and catching an assailant in the back with a quick jab. He was not fast enough, however - the officer he had disarmed so agilely had seized the bayonet from his broken weapon and lunged forward, piercing Yelu's shoulder. Falling to his feet, Yelu remained motionless. Clark rose from the ground and rushed forward, but was pushed out of the way by a roaring Mei Ling; a sickening crack echoed throughout the tea-house as the British soldier's head twisted at an angle far removed from his neck.
Mei Ling was like a hurricane in motion; he did not bother to disarm his opponents, but simply hit them as hard as he could; digging his fingers into the soft flesh of his enemies as if it were clay. He did not dodge when a blow would have caused damage to the teahouse, simply taking it and countering with unbearable force- and before long the agitators had retreated; soldiers dashing into the streets, and reformists vanished. Reginald lay the only certain casualty, frozen in permanent conversation with no-one. Clark had been watching Mei Ling as if hypnotized, but could barely make out someone away from the teahouse, wearing a grey cloak; he quickly brought himself to his senses and dashed over to the prone Yelu. Mei Ling had walked over like a statue to the owners of the establishment; a middle-aged women with impossibly tiny feet looked as if she was going to burst into tears. Mei Ling said something inaudible, and Clark caught the flash of silver. The proprietress began to cry in earnest, and Mei Ling embraced her, then walked purposefully. Yelu turned his eyes to her, a shock of grey hair shielding one lid. "... Hah. I hadn't expected it so soon, Mei Ling. You fight beautifully." He begin to cough, as Mei Ling pressed a finger to his lips. "Sh. You're hardly wounded at all, Yelu. You must have suffered worse than this many times."
His voice delicate, Mei Ling moved a trembling finger towards Yelu's shoulder- and drew back blood. Rising to his feet, he stared at Clark with a pleading expression. "Can you help me move him? There is a local doctor here that he has been to before - please don't leave me." The comment was so sudden that the young man found himself shocked, but he managed his best reassuring smile as he and Mei Ling helped Yelu to his feet. "Really, Yelu! I say that red suits your shoulder; it makes you look even more dignified. Now, my brother Humphrey, he would cry if he even cut himself on grass..."
As the two marched down the streets, Yelu supported between them, the Daoguang Empire looked to Tibet, and the West with a superstitious eye.
... And through those mountain passes, a figure in grey moved faster than humanly possible, crossing into British Burma by nightfall, it's first job accomplished.
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Thoughts so far -
Aaaaw man, it seems like when I post, I kinda invoke the forum upgrade Gods. Is it really so much to ask that my insomnia and the forum's transformation sequence don't overlap?! xD Ah, well. Sorry for the wait, all. Like I said, the next updates are mostly taken care of, hope it's okay if they're fairly close to one another. It's amazing how well the game flowed with what I have in mind, especially in a certain close-by chapter. It's almost like... Victoria read my heart.
o Bwahahaha! Jokes aside, some notes - in 1.1 humiliate is very powerful for uncivs. Cheap, effective, and fits roleplaying reasons well for those who like to get into the heads of their country. Infantry also beat the socks off of irregulars. But as we shall soon see, even a few levels of technology can mean the world...
Also, so good with date/time memorization that the date time was a year off, reading 42-43 instead of 41-42. I've been moving forward a year at a time. How hard is that to remember!
o Also, 3000 words. Gah. How does this happen. I'll hang a jian on my wall with a post-it-note reading 'Cut!' on it to remind myself to keep things limited.
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