Dreams of a Butterfly Dalian '60 Beijing '65 {1860-65}
General Harney,
Your condolences were appreciated - as was your forwarding of this missive. I have made my way to the port at Lushunkou and shall be arriving in Union territory in several months. Again, thank you for your congratulations and sympathies in these trying times; but indeed, in these dark times it seems we are all under an incredible strain. For your convenience, I have listed several names I who might pose sympathies of the nature prescribed. In return, I will be carefully monitoring your assurances - and I assure you that I will brook no impudence in this matter. I do not expect to receive any more of these sorts of letters.
Cordially yours,
Clark Osskisson
As the early morning sun lifted above the seaport fog, Clark took another feverish sip of the coffee tainted with the faintest hint of almond; it was sickly sweet but he had grown accustomed to it. The gladstone bag he clenched so tightly between his gaunt fingers contained no letter so important as this one. Steam drifted from the mug into the unusually mild January air as dockworkers and international passengers stepping off foreign-purchased steamships chatted noisomely around him. Scratching his head in irritation - why must it ache so horribly at such a time? - he narrowed his eyes and tried desperately to find the face he was looking for; his vision swam for a second, and then cleared.
"Miss Meng!"
His voice swam over the crowd, and the anxious-looking young woman in the Western-style dress pulled through the crowd - and collided straight into an elderly Russian tourist. She apologized profusely, but the old woman seemed not to understand as Meng Chuntao made her way over to Clark, face creased with worry, words of regret already forming on her lips.
"I'm so sorry - I just received urgent news for you from a censor working here. It seemed terribly important, so I looked all over for you! I didn't mean to make a scene-"
Meng continued to burble apologetically, but Clark had already forgotten what she was talking about. The
Lei zi - 'Thunderchild' - would be loving soon, and he did not want to miss it. No, he couldn't miss it! The consequences alone were too terrible to imagine.
Stop blaming yourself.
Moonwatcher spoke with a great deal of concern, the pain hidden all too poorly in her voice.
You did what you can, and you made your own choices. It was you who decided on the life you've carved for it. Live in it, not in the past.
It just made his ears bleed.
Ignoring her consolations, Clark turned to Meng Chuntao, who had managed to compose herself and was looking at him in confusion - Clark realized he had been staring off into space, and turned a bright beet-red.
"S-sorry, you'll have to repeat whatever you said. I cannot say in all certainty that I am in a right state in any sense of the word right now, and apologize duly for any neglect I may have shown."
Clark tried to smile, but it must have looked awful - Meng recoiled, and Clark felt his morale sink even farther. He muttered something apologetic and inquisitive about the information she possessed, and she handed him a document in silver leaf with wording as official and somber as the two United Stats Government messages that that haunted his waking hours.
Clark skimmed the letter.
This was unimportant to him - just routine minutiae, barring the details of local peasant flare-ups.
Then, he read it again; he must have misunderstood something.
Falling to his feet, the lacquer mug crashing into the ground.
His head felt like it would split open, and he didn't remember much after that.
-
"You know, you're not doing so well, dead guy."
Gentleman's snarky voice whistled through the air like a cartridge, catching Clark off guard. He instinctively reached for the pistol he had begun to carry with him - and not finding it there, whirled around to find the first voice, the one which haunted him so strongly. Instead, he found nothing but a neatly ordered chamber, built of the finest marble and looking like nothing so much as some sort of mausoleum.
"Am... I...?"
He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth and the bizarrely off-key laughter cut into his eardrums.
"You're pretty thick if that's automatically where your mind goes - what a cop out that'd be. It'd mean that we wouldn't get to have this little chat, so personal-like. I mean, we've known each other for awhile now, but as long as that ugly cow keeps talking to you, you and I haven't had a proper chance to get to know each other. You're here because you've had way too much trauma for any one person to absorb in a short time, and a lot of it involves death. That isn't my sphere or anything, but you've already met some people who know about it - so I guess that seeds a'growing in your mind."
Gentleman paused, tasting the desperation seeping out of Clark's mind - for a minute, it seemed to Clark that he could actually see it fully-formed, fluttering away on the rose-gold wings of a half-imagined butterfly. As he reached out to touch it with trembling fingers, the floor engulfed him, sending him crashing ever downward, wind tearing against him with no end in sight as Gentleman continued to drone on - sounding oddly worried.
"You need to start paying more attention. I don't particularly want to help you, but I don't want you to actually die or anything, either. Ask more questions. It'll help you, and if you're doing well, you're of more use to me. Got it? Shit - seems like that old hag found me out already. Well, this'll be our little secret! Enjoy your funeral!"
Laughing tonelessly, Clark suddenly found his body rocketing to a painless stop as a warm, silvery-blue light embraced him, reminding him of the moon and the stars and words unspoken that he should have said-
Why do you regret?
"... Smelling salts, they'll do the trick every time. It's rare to see a man faint like that though, they are usually so polished. Of course, every generation they are coming out weaker, you know. My husband is a colonel! But my son, ah. To look at him, you would think he is an artist! Such travesty! This young man, is he your boyfriend? He should eat more! He looks like my son!"
Clark groggily came to, the scent of almonds lingering on his lips and the scent of strong ammonia filtering into his nostrils. Meng Chuntao was doing her best to administer the smelling salts as a large crowd gathered around them in bewilderment - Clark recognized the tourist, who had begin to talk animatedly to Meng, who was doing her best not to smile.
The sun was heavy in the sky, and the fog was gone. He had been out for hours.
He jumped to his feet, startling some of the onlookers - offering a brief and very rushed apology, he turned to Meng, who was staring at him anxiously.
"I'm sorry - it was obvious you had fainted, but you wouldn't wake up until this very
nice woman over here was so kind to lend me the smelling salts in her purse. It appears she learned Mandarin from one of her servants." There was no hostility in Meng Chuntao's voice - her good nature consistently amazed Clark. She continued to talk however, ignoring his dazed smile with a look of slight fear in her eyes - possibly about what she was about to say.
"... It's your ship. You've been out far too long. You missed it, and the crew were unwilling to wait for one bureaucrat. Mr. Osskisson - you aren't going to be able to go home."
Clark grit his teeth, but something inside himself steeled him against the comments, comments he had known - how? - would come. He tried to retain his composure as he spoke, finding it easier with every word.
"That's all right, Miss Meng. As it stands, I've been away from my family far too long - to them, I'm only half-real anyhow. They would hardly appreciate my presence at the funeral where my Mother will have to say her last words to both her husband and most beloved son. There is an event here that I must attend to, and you were right to bring it to my attention. Please inform the Tianmen Emperor that my services will still be his if he has need of them - and that I'm glad tragedies still bring sympathetic votes to the Yuan." So saying, Clark grinned and strode away, signaling for a carriage. Meng Chuntao watched the carriage roll away without a word as the crowd dissipated around them, the spectacle averted.
Only the colonel and his wife saw her expression as she watched. The colonel, who had bought two steaming pork buns for himself and the wife, couldn't help but comment. "Yulya - what a strange expression that young lady had. Shouldn't she be happy to see the young man off?"
Yulya 'hrmphed' noncommittally, watching Meng Chuntao with wizened eyes. She had wanted to dismiss it as some sort of lovers spat - but that expression... Well, it was none of her business, anyway. Taking a bit of the delicious baozi, the fleeting thought left her, and she and her husband set off to visit the Qing Industrial Exhibitation.
-
Mei Ling faced her brother for some time, watching him circle the room with alert eyes. She felt sweat trickling down her brow, and tried best to ignore it; that momentary distraction was all the time her brother needed to dart forward, snarling. Mei Ling stepped back, fist clenched, and sunk it hard into her brothers chest - or where it would've been seconds ago, as he jumped back, laughing.
"Such a violent little girl. Is this the sort of thing you've gotten into without your big brother around to watch over you? No wonder people avoid you, given how you act like such a deviant." He smiled widely, displaying smoke-stained teeth.
"Hong Minsheng. It's good to see you again." Mei Ling's voice was emotionless and neutral as she spoke as she cautiously met her brothers eyes. They stared at each other for some time - and then, unexpectedly, Hong Minsheng began to cry, dry heaving sobs as he walked forward. "I missed you so much, meimei. Where have you been?" Mei Ling unconsciously embraced the trembling wreck her brother had become - he continued to shake and cough for what seemed like hours. Finally, scratching the bridge of his nose, he looked up at her through bleary eyes and smiled so sweetly it nearly tore her heart in two.
"Did you come all this way to see me? I'm fine here - I've made a lot of friends. It isn't quite the life that I imagined - but it is a good life, better than being a dog of the Emperor. How is the Daoguang Emperor? Does anyone remember me, banished to this land of pirates and barbarians?..."
The desperation in his voice made it hard to hold back her tears - she remembered Yelu telling her how important was to be strong when others were weak, and smiled as brightly as she could. "The Daoguang Emperor is dead - and many people miss you, Hong Minsheng. I miss you, as well - I thought, perhaps, we could go back across the sea together."
Her smile fell as he began to laugh bitterly, his laughter mixing with his dry cough. "Ha - that'd be the day. That I grant anyone I know the dignity of getting a chance to apologize to me - they should live with the regret of what they've done. If they miss me so much as you say, that misery should be worth twice as much as setting foot in the same land that threw me here to rot."
Why do you always have to be so prideful? Do you really think that you're any different from anyone else?! The deluded airiness from before had crept back into her brothers voice, as he begin to scratch under his arms as well, looking forlorn. Coughing again, he raised a solitary eyebrow.
"Anyway, why have you really come here, meimei?... I do want to believe that you've missed me - and I do know how hard it must have been for you to come here. But there must be something else. Not much would make a hard-working member of my family willing to live in such a squalid apartment working as furniture for some ungrateful old devils." He gingerly walked over to the long-forgotten dinner she had brought with her and set it down in front of them.
"Let's walk together - you can tell me about your troubles, and I'll listen. Maybe your brother can help you out in some way." Laughing quietly, as if only to himself, he watched his little sister eat in silence. Then, the two of them stepped out into the cold February night.
-
A tiny bridge crossed the nearby river, the frost covering the ground not strong enough to freeze it's mild current. Mei Ling paced across it's cobbled surface as Hong Minsheng tiptoed across the railing, nearly losing his balance several times with a laugh - it reminded her of so many countless years ago, when her brother had been a headstrong cadet, and not a balding middle-aged man with deep scars against his nose and neck from where his fingernails had dug into his skin.
"... So, there's this guy who actually likes hanging out with a crazy kid like you, but he's an idiot who can't seem to vocalize anything and ended up going power-crazy? That's the weakness of men, if you ask me. Show a donkey a carrot, and he can't help but want to follow it." Chuckling, her brother jumped off the railing, his bare feet landing into the cool grass, bathed in moonlight.
"It's not simple as all that! If it was, I could've taken care of it myself!" Mei Ling snapped back, trying to halt the blush spreading on her cheeks. "You completely ignore the point about the Emperor becoming even more repressive and jumped into some sort of railing against humanity, when your description sounds pretty much tailor-made to fit yourself! I can't believe I was stupid enough to talk to you!" Folding her arms, she turned her head away - and narrowly avoided tripping over her brother's leg.
Laughing, the two continued to walk for some time, Hong Minsheng looking thoughtful. "Hmn... Well, if you're here to hire an assassin or something like that, I don't know if I'd be willing to assassinate this new Emperor - I always thought you'd like Western-style reforms like this, actually."
Mei Ling frowned. "I want to be proud of China - and I want reforms that work. Not Eastern or Western - those seem to be words the court throws around, more than anything. Besides hoping to meet you - I have a plan. And that's the real reason I'm here, not some stupid foreigner who values a few taels over good conversation."
Her brother snorted. "Out of all your dubious virtues, my sister, conversation is not one I would normally associate with you - I somehow recall you having the emotional range of a stone statue - barring the rage of a bull demon, that is." His laughter was cut off as Mei Ling realized they'd reached a destination, or at least her brother had.
Her eyes widened as an attendant bade them welcome.
"How. Dare. You." Her voice faltered as she tried to spoke, the warm haze filtering out of the large building's open and inviting door dissipating into the night sky. Hong Minsheng chuckled, the sound distorted and mixing with the laughter of conversation from inside.
"There's that anger I was just talking about - you shouldn't hold grudges so long, little sister. People all deal with life in different ways, and this is just mine- Mei Ling?
Hong Mei Ling!" She had already begin to trudge off towards home as a light snow began to fall, refusing to look back as her brother scrabbled behind her.
"I need this, meimei! You have to understand, it's the only thing I have left, besides you! And you weren't here!
You weren't here!" His screeching, desperate cries turned to a familiar dry, hacking sob as she drew further into the distance - trying to hide her own tears as they cut through the powdery snow.
-
Clark had not expected Sariwon to be so picturesque. The carriage leisurely rode by farm after farm, although several Western-style glass and liquor manufacturies could be seen looming in the distance, belching with coal fires and the scent of brewing alcohol. He had heard tell of burnt out farmhouses and despondent peasants - but the quality of life matched up fairly perfectly with what the Tianmen Emperor had been describing to him.
Another thing to ask him about.
Musing to himself on how to best handle the situation, a rapid bump announced that the carriage had come to a halt - thanking the driver, Clark stepped outside into the early May noon - a large crowd had gathered in the city center near the recently re-built university. Although the crowd was mostly ethnic Koreans, Clark could make out most of the sizable Manchu immigrant community - and although there was obvious tension between the two groups, what struck him most was that both seemed to be filled with weary, resigned expressions.
He ignored them, and headed straight to the jail. For once, the privilege of state worked to his advantage as the guards let him pass without incident, quietly taking the cue to spend some time discussing business amongst themselves. Clark headed inside the simple stone-and-wood building to the cell he'd been told to find.
Yelu smiled through the bars cheerfully as Clark stared at him, expression masked. "Heyo, Clark. It seems that I've found myself in a very strange situation, indeed. Apparently, it's possible to make everyone hate you, if you just try hard enough!... Heh, not that it really bothers me. Life was getting too stable for my taste, anyhow."
Clark continued to stare as Yelu yawned exaggeratedly. "You just going to stand there? I was kind of hoping you'd tell me how things'd been in the capitol, maybe let me know if there was any interesting news-" Clark cut him off.
"The guards have received orders to let you pass. No one will stop you. The people out there are broken, useless. They won't do anything to help themselves - leave with me, Yelu. I'm sure the Tianmen Emperor will forgive this readily."
Yelu's smile vanished in an instant. "Ah, Clark. I'm afraid that's not going to happen. I really appreciate the effort, but I'm here of my own will. It's precisely because 'those people' are what you called 'em - broken - that I'm here. It's one thing to win a victory and claim territory or prestige - but this is pretty much one of the most horrible things I've ever done."
The laughter escaping Yelu's lips didn't match up with the seriousness of the situation in Clark's mind - but his ease continued to stun him out of talking. "I'm a good soldier, Clark. I have no regrets for helping bring Qing rule to Chosun. But I don't like what I'm doing anymore, so I figured I'd resign. It's not too long until I get a forced resignation of one sort or another anyway - " He continued to laugh, and Clark dug his fist into the wall in frustration, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm.
"How can you do this? You're one the most stable people I've met, and to just abandon it all, for what - what did you even do? I don't understand, Yelu! No one will remember you favorably for this - to die aiding the cause of rebels and traitors is absolutely insane!" Clark's eyes pleaded for
some sort of explanation, any kind - and sighing, Yelu gave it to him.
"Look, Clark. There isn't anyone left to remember me besides you and Mei Ling. I don't know what you'll think - although I hope it'll be to remember everything we've done together. I don't really have a family, you see- not anymore. And in a way, traveling with you... Well, I won't bore you. Even if it's only Mei Ling who remembers me, I know she would find what I did to be the right thing, and that is all that matters to me. The rest never has."
Smiling peaceably to himself, Yelu sighed contentedly. "Anyway, the guards are gonna be back soon. If you listen carefully, you can hear the tiny patter of their footsteps against the floor. Clark - our journeys together meant so much to me. I hope that one day, you'll be able to find what truly matters to you."
Clark began to panic, trying to explain how there was still time to leave, how he had what mattered to him, his family, his friends - how the guards shouldn't be coming, he'd bought their time! - but all his words jumbled together, lost amidst the look of peace and serenity on Yelu's face as the old soldier rose proudly to his feet. The guards returned, silently collecting Yelu and ignoring Clark as he jabbered at them desperately.
"You have to let him go, he's done nothing wrong! Everything is a mistake! Please, let me just talk to him for a little longer - damnit, I'm a servant of the Emperor! Listen to me!" As the guards and Yelu continued to march off, Clark stopped sputtering, pointing at their backs in a seething rage - and falling to his feet, tore at his hair. "I'll fix this. I'll fix this. I'LL FIX THIS!" His screams echoed around the cells, but there was no reply... And with glazed eyes, he rose to his feet and stepped outside, not noticing that the pain in his fingers had vanished within seconds of his fist connecting with the hard stone wall.
-
The scaffolding was extremely stable, as Yelu felt his feet creaking against it. It was reassuring, in a sense. One last grounding before reaching the sky or the earth. Smiling to himself amongst a crowd of dour faces, he ignore the half-hearted cries of 'Butcher' and 'Traitor' coming from the nebulous divisions of the crowd. The executioner asked him if he had any last words.
"A thousand years of the Qing! Long live the the Tianmen Emperor!"
The scaffolding gave way long before he had finished talking. The crowd had begun to stir from the apathetic silence it had lulled into - but as the gurgling began seeping into Yelu's words, the doldrums swept back over those assembled like a wave. Unable to watch, Clark simply listened until finally all was silent, and looking back, he saw Yelu's old body limp, like a puppet. The villagers begin to disperse - their apathy slowly giving way to an almost visible anger and frustration.
The death left no one satisfied, and unease was thick in the air.
Clark stared mutely, until finally, he was allowed to collect the body. And just as mutely, he began to take the long ride home.
-
The funeral had passed quickly. Besides a slow stream of people Yelu had met throughout his travels - some of whom Clark had met - a few required state functionaries and former bannermen who had served with Yelu, there was no one Clark knew there. He had hoped against hope that Mei Ling would show up - but of course, that was impossible. Miao had, however, tears flowing freely from her shadow-laden eyes. He had tried to talk to her - but his unease at everything that had happened cast a quietness over his voice. So he said nothing, and soon the funeral was over, and Yelu had become a memory.
-
Meng Chuntao was glad to see that after a few months of whatever funk Clark had set his soul into, he seemed to have snapped out of it and gotten back to work. As she prepared his usual coffee, her mind wandered over why that man's death had gotten him down so much - the two hadn't seemed to be that close the last time they had been together, and he had been a traitor to the Qing - it seemed to her that no one had benefited from the rebellious old soldier's actions. The Chinese people - all of the Chinese peoples - were enjoying unprecedented prosperity, and it would be a shame to see it end so quickly.
Rapping sharply on the door that was half-open, she let herself in as the sound of Clark's pen dug into the paper he constantly wrote at, pages more jammed into the nearby press at his side. He gratefully smiled at her and took the coffee - indeed, he seemed content with his work as of late, proving in her mind that hard work was the great equalizer. He gestured to a paper on his desk as he raised the glass to his lips, smiling at the familiar flavor.
There are some Manchu 'villages' if you can call them that, that still resemble slums. Can you believe it?
Shaking his head - which had began to ache again, full of the pressure that seemed to come every few hours or so as of late - Clark laughed heartily and pushed the papers out of his way as he leaned forward, smiling roguishly. Meng Chuntao laughed politely and handed him another letter - as well as a rather cumbersome parcel, labeled to be from another attache of the Cultural Ministry - some Karl, or Konrad, or something. Obviously trying to curry favor, most likely.
It seems the Lama's have recognized Qing jurisdiction? Excellent. He unwound the string so taut around it's brown paper packaging-
- as he lifted a large wood carving out from the parcel, it's intricacies reflected in the rooms dim light.
Clark stared at the carving for some time, and then handed it to the young woman staring so dutifully at him. "Well, it's nice, but a bit gaudy, don't you think? It's yours, for being such a fine assistant. Go on, take it. It would suit the atmosphere of this office at all."
The look on his face hinted at something else, but likely something so enigmatic and buried away that Clark himself didn't dare to face it. As Meng Chuntao left, carrying the unwanted carving away with her, Clark stared at the latest and last of the bulletins he had received - one that seemed to echo ill portents of the future, because although a peaceful malaise had settled over the Qing as goods and services became commonplace, books and thoughts began to spread among the populace.
The apathy that had gripped the populace could only last so long.
As he reclined in his ostentatious chair, Clark stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to have a conversation with the voices in his mind - to have someone's advice and words of praise, to know that he was doing the right thing - but with his head aching so terribly, all he could hear was a faint buzzing, and the wind whistling through the half-open window.
-
Not too long after, the same Mongolian nomads who had been accosted by Qing police forces began to agitate for independence. It had been a rough incident to quell, because there was no violence involved, no civil disobedience, but a long procession of Mongolian citizens demanding their rights. It was easy enough to arrest the leaders - some of whom were tribal elders, others who had been immersing themselves in books and the written word as the flow of information spread around China - but the demonstration remained clear: even as the rivalries between Manchu and Han Chinese had began to fade, modernization had made apparent the clear divide, between those who were free, and those who had nothing.
He didn't want to admit how much he related. Thinking made his head ache too much, as of late.
Of course, the Tianmen Emperor had been one step ahead of things - he honestly believed that with education and institutions, the worst of these social maladies would vanish, and Clark was inclined to believe so as well. Just looking at the results of modernization - of how much more was produced, of how many more Qing citizens could find work in factories instead of fields - was enough to convince him. The China of today was nothing like the China he had walked through in the tantalizingly familiar past.
The school program stressed Western values and a unified Chinese cultural identity.
His mind drifted back to the girl, so hopelessly young, who had died in a coal mine not unlike that his father toiled in -
had toiled in, he uncomfortably reminded himself. He had expected it to raise a level of consciousness in society, and create people who were willing to work together and solve their problems.
Or had that been why he wrote it? Maybe, in his own cynical judge of character, he had known that it would cause the easily swayed aristocrats to throw their considerable clout behind the Emperor and his Court, and just didn't think about it clearly.
You've been letting the Jealous one break you down, Clark. You were trying to do something to help - the world just didn't take your action the way you'd intended. Moonwatcher's voice was a welcome reprieve from months of silence -
- although it did little to take away the realization that reaction to local food riots had turned out much the same way.
Moonwatcher! Nothing I do works! I don't even know what I want, anymore - only that I want to make things better. Yelu died for nothing, after trying to inspire a crowd that hated him. What was the point? People who have nothing, will never rise above their lot in life! So why is it that I even want to try? He stepped out of the chair, which had began to hurt his back, and paced angrily around his room, kicking papers to and fro.
Clark - you don't even listen to yourself, anymore. You need to listen to yourself. Soon, a time will come where you will have to make some significant choices, and I know you'll choose what you need to choose - as always, don't listen to me. I advocate a harder path, and you'd probably be happier if you just learned to ignore me. Her voice fell away through the corridors of his mind, and once again he was left introspective, enervated, and alone.
-
Yixin had been approached multiple times about choosing a more suitable Imperial Name, but had waved the opportunity away many times. After all, he reasoned - if the common people know that my name is as attainable as theirs, they will understand the value of hard work and upward mobility through it. It was the same this time as he brushed an anxious courtier away, mind already on the up-coming speech. His subjects had never been more jubilant, with the reclamation of Qing Tibet, and relations soaring with Western powers. Trade and relations with the West had begun to soar, and there was even talk of relaxing certain bans that had been in place for countless years...
As he spoke of heavenly peace while avoiding actual mention of disbanding the military, however, he knew better. People were still adapting to change - he could not rush them. Everything was proceeding perfectly - and the Middle Kingdom was truly great.
He finished the speech and went back into the new Seasonal Palace from the balcony where throngs of admirers still screamed their praise and well-wishing. His French tutor had already left, having no more to teach the Tianmen Emperor. Next, he would start on Greek, he mused, to better understand the works of philosophy that the West considered so important.
He had already sent diplomats to several states closely aligned with the British - and while they were also there to spread good will and gain recognition from the World's most powerful country that the Qing, too was a world power, their primary mission was simple.
Find out if more of Victoria's pawns were to be dispatched to the border, and make them amenable to Qing protection.
He took a look at the list of Orders and Bureaucracies he had created or revived by hand - ones that functioned and worked, some of which were even recognized with honors by Western society - and felt proud, a deep pride that the Qing worked, that it had become everything that it should be. There were flaws, yes - but over time, those too would become just a larger part of the tapestry of state he had woven out of wholecloth.
The thought pleased him, and secure in his success, he let sleep overtake him.
And in his restless dreams, the pattern began to unravel...
-
Hong Mei Ling paused, taking a deep breath. It had finally come this far. After making her way to the new 'Eastern capital' that the Japanese had promoted so endlessly to her, she had been allowed to make her appeal to the lesser court of the Japanese emperor Komei. It was grand indeed, although she couldn't help but feel it was a pale imitation of Chinese culture and architecture. Well-dressed Japanese sat around the circular chamber, uninterested in this brusque Chinese man and his complaints. She recognized she only had a small amount of time - so she had to use it well.
"People of the Japanese Empire. I respectfully request your attention to an urgent matter of statehood. The Qing Empire, your neighbor to the west, has come under ill auspice. Peace-addled and under the control of an Emperor who has turned it into a slave of the West, it will not be long before Qing ships land at your harbors to subjugate the Chrysanthemum Throne as they brought the Phoenix Throne into the fold so recently. Only by acting quickly and closing trade with China and declaring a state of war can you hope to avoid the inevitable."
Her blood boiled. This was so ridiculous - but if the Chinese people would not revolt, content with the new order that gave them the promise of more while stripping away what few rights they had left, then this was the only option she had left.
"You must listen to me!" Her voice rang deep and true around the room. "The Qing have changed, the future is changing. And if it continues on this course, none of us will know the path it follows. I beg of you! You must help me, help China! You must protect yourselves!"
It seemed like an eternity as she waited for a response - and it came, languidly. Slow at first, but building up into peals of laughter around the room. Words drifted throughout the echoing chamber, casually slung.
"What could he possibly mean? China has become very valuable to Japanese trade and pursuit of industry."
"Indeed, Emperor Komei despises the West - but to imply that His divine presence cannot fortell the way the wind blows?"
"Of course - if you look closely, she is but a woman - one far past her prime, at that - and who let such a cur into the lesser court? She could not possibly know of what she speaks!"
The laughter continued derisively until it seemed to come from all around her and she felt it ringing inside her ears. Taking a step back, she ground her feet into the floor. She would not give these men the satisfaction of seeing her run. Bowing in the Japanese style, she thanked them for her time, and walked out of the building, the laughter still hearty behind her.
As she left, her brother casually detached himself from the wall upon he had been loitering, his court diplomat clothes worn and soiled and an apologetic look on his face as he quickly dusted the pipe he had been smoking out, the stench of opium mixed with tobacco harsh upon the air, his fingers irritably scratching upon his neck. "... No look, little sister?... I'm sorry. I honestly thought -"
Mei Ling silenced him with a self-confident smile. "It was not a waste of my time to come here, brother. I found you, and if the land of the Wo will not help me, then I shall make my own luck. Change will come - and if no one else will be it's architect, than I shall." She inhaled deeply of the cold December air, then exhaled, her mind set and her smile radiant.
"Will you come back with me, Hong Minsheng? It would be wonderful to have some company on this long journey home. And although he has not written in some time, I know that old Yelu would be glad to see you." Hong Minsheng shook his head, smiling as well - somewhat bitterly, but with none of the malice of before.
"No, meimei. My place is here, and you are more than capable of handling yourself - more capable, perhaps, than I ever have been. I'm just glad - so glad - that you could bring yourself to forgive me." He turned away, shoulders starting to tremble.
"There is nothing to forgive, gege. Regardless of the choices you make you are, and always will be, my brother. I should be the one asking forgiveness - for hating you instead of just the pipe you smoked. Perhaps hate itself is the enemy here." Shrugging her shoulders, the two embraced tightly, and Hong Mei Ling turned to leave to the Edo Harbor, her goals unshakeable.
As he watched his sister leave, Hong Minsheng continued to scratch the bridge of his neck, leaving long, red marks upon his skin. The guilt in his expression as he watched her go never faded as a well-dressed man layered in a Western-style suit that obscured his features almost perfectly stepped out of the shadows and thanked him for his efforts before vanishing as quickly as he had appeared - and the brother of Hong Mei Ling left for the one place he could forget about the events he believed he had set in motion, mind already filling with a numb haze in anticipation.
Thoughts so far -
Tsch, sorry for the day-late update. I'd planned to get this one out yesterday, but for some reason got bumped out of Paradox and couldn't get back in. It didn't seem to be site maintanence - the site itself just lead to a 404'ish kind of page. Maybe it's my crappy internet? Ah, well. So, this is a pretty long chapter - if you're interested mostly in the gameplay elements, well, stay near the end of it. You can usually tell where they are due to the pictures.
Well, things just keep getting worse - people dying, getting older, nothing changing - man, you'd be hard-pressed to think of me as an optimist given the way I right things. But I am, honest! But we're only half-ish way through the story, so that's how it goes, I guess. I didn't linger on a certain character's funeral, simply because I meant it to be a fleeting moment - something that was quickly layered away under guilt and layers of repressed memory. But what do you think? As usual, comments are always appreciated.
By the way, how do you take your coffee? Me, I like it three ways - Coffee au lait, representing the beautiful future, coffee Americano, for the continent that holds my heart so dearly, and black as night - for it's entrancing, bitter quality. Next post, we'll talk about tea! As you can probably tell, I'm a fan of both. Say, almond is a pretty rare flavor for coffee, isn't it..? Hmn.
Happy Late Halloween!
After afternote - Please let me know if I've double-posted anywhere - it seems like the the boards enjoy regurgitated Communitarian!s.