by Jeannie Lin
Nothing he could say would ever bring my father back or destroy the empty, cynical demon inside of me.
“I have to think of my family,” I told him. “My mother finds memories of Peking too painful. She can’t return there.”
The dragon airship flew closer with each moment. I could make out its shape with my naked eye. The sentries on the wall straightened, gasping as they spotted it.
“Then think of your family,” Chang-wei insisted. “Think of your brother. I can see to his education in Peking. I can guide him. He’s capable of so much more.”
“That isn’t fair.”
Tian had sprouted like a young tree under Chang-wei’s brief tutelage. He was no longer acting like a timid, shrinking shadow. I wanted a future so much for my brother, but I had to resist.
Let the imperial court and the Yangguizi fight it out. Neither of them cared about the people of the land. We were merely dust to them.
“I can’t let him get involved in the Emperor’s war,” I argued, my voice trembling.
“Soling, have I told you why I came back?”
I shook my head, pressing my lips together stubbornly. A rift was forming between us. Didn’t he realize that if he had just asked me, not as some appeal to my loyalty to the empire, but just as Chang-wei to Soling, I would have gone with him willingly?
But there was no speaking of the two of us in that way. Country before family. Family before self. That was the way of things.
“You returned because you’re loyal at heart,” I replied. “More loyal than I am.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t return out of a blind sense of loyalty. All those years while I was a prisoner, while I watched our ports being carved up and opium forced upon our shores, I wanted only one thing: To not be a slave.”
“But you were a slave to the Emperor and are now to Prince Yizhu.”
“I give my loyalty freely, as your father did. It doesn’t have to be suffering and subjugation, Soling. We can learn. We can adapt. We can fight back.”
The red dragon was upon us, looming overhead. I quivered at the sight of it, and the urge to fall to my knees overwhelmed me. The dragon was the symbol of the divinity of imperial power. And we had all been groomed to worship the Emperor like a god. In return, the dragon granted our land his protection.
But did I truly believe it anymore?
Things were going to get worse, Yang had warned. The Emperor was dead and the rebel army was growing.
“Come with me,” Chang-wei implored. He held his hand out to me. “I’ve seen what we’re capable of together. Come with me.”
I thought of Yang Hanzhu in exile upon the seas, loyal to no one but his own heart. I thought of Mother enslaved by opium. I thought of Tian, merely a boy now, but one day he would be a man and able to stand tall.
For so many years, I had been hiding. Everyone I loved was a fugitive.
My eyes were open now. I knew that the dragon before me was carved of wood. His scales were painted. His belly was a furnace and it was physics and mathematics and alchemy that gave him the gift of flight.
But in spite of all I knew, I wanted to believe in the vision that Chang-wei had presented to me. My father had fought his battle too soon. The empire wasn’t ready and he knew it, but he had no choice but to fight on.
Chang-wei took my hand, his strong fingers curling around mine. He appeared so confident beside me. Unwavering.
A rope ladder descended from the airship, and he continued to hold on to me.
I trust you, he’d said.
I trusted him too. With my life, and at the moment with my heart.
His thumb stroked over mine, telling me the things I’d longed to hear, but not in words. Would he ever speak them out loud?
It would tear out a piece of my soul to let go at this moment, never knowing. I knew then that I would step onto that dragonship with him to rise into the clouds. I was ready to learn from our past mistakes. I was ready to adapt.
Most of all, I was ready to fight.
Author’s Note
Gunpowder Alchemy was inspired by a melting pot of so many of my interests—science, technology, and history. A steampunk adventure seemed the perfect way to merge all three. The Opium War period was a time of struggle and change for China and provided a rich and largely untapped backdrop for a steampunk world.
The historical record provided me with both a rough road map and a source of inspiration, but this story is at its heart a work of fantasy. Crown Prince Yizhu and Zuo Zongtang are actual historical figures of the period, but I took many liberties in their depiction. Lady Su is inspired by a famous figure of the Taiping Rebellion, Su Sanming who was a respected leader. Her counterpart in this book is completely fictionalized.
I thought long and hard about whether to use the more modern Pinyin Romanization vs. Wade-Giles which was more prevalent during the Opium War period. After much debate and discussion, Pinyin was used for names as the standard is more familiar to modern readers. Accent and tonal marks are removed for readability. Place names use the old postal code system—i.e. Peking vs. Beijing. This was done with the purpose of creating a historical feel. A similar internal struggle took place over whether to refer to Japan as Nippon or by the lesser known Chinese name of Wa. In the end, Japan was used for familiarity.
Goryeo and Annam were used for Korea and Vietnam respectively based on the Chinese names for these places.
In truth, Soling and Chang-wei would have had to be fluent many dialects to travel across the empire so easily. Mandarin did not emerge as an official language until much later, after the fall of the empire.
In this fantasy, I deliberately removed many language barriers to make it easier to move from Point A to Point B. The two dialects of Beijing Mandarin and Cantonese emerge as the dominant dialects in use in the urban centers and foreign concessions much earlier in this steampunk world than they did in actuality.
This is all to say that I recognize naming and language are very sensitive and often political topics, especially in a story with recognizable countries that still exist and an East/West struggle at its center. I tried to balance historical and cultural usage with just plain readability. If I have offended anyone with my choices, I sincerely apologize.
For more behind the scenes information for the Gunpowder Chronicles, visit me online: jeannielin.com.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I love reading steampunk for the wide variety of stories and adventures encompassed in the genre. Yet when author Suzanne Lazear told me point blank that she thought there should be more multicultural steampunk and that I should write it, I laughed.
“I wish I could,” I told her.
But several hours later, I was no longer laughing. After a mad round of Googling, a story was already starting to take root. So I have Suzanne to thank for planting the seed.
Despite my excitement, this series was a long time in the making from initial concept to the final product due to fate and a set of twins. If my agent, Gail Fortune, hadn’t been so enthusiastic about the project from the start, I don’t think it would have ever happened. Also a heartfelt thanks to my editor Cindy Hwang for taking on the project—she was my dream editor from the very first moment I came up with the idea.
A huge shout out to the Authors of Asian Novels group for your support and insight and collective knowledge.
To James Ng for his breathtaking and imaginative Asian steampunk artwork which continually inspires me.
Shawntelle Madison for the hand-holding and pep talks and brainstorming. I owe you many more Sangria Fridays. Amanda Berry, whether online or in person, we keep each other going. Thank you Sela Carsen and Dayna Hart, fellow nerds and steampunk fangirls, for reading the ugly draft and telling it to me straight how to fix it.
And a special, special shout out to Dayna. I mentioned you twice with good reason. You were there w
hen I needed you most, offering me a much needed critical eye and open heart. You were my light when self-doubt was darkest. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Thank you for reading Gunpowder Alchemy, the first book in the Gunpowder Chronicles series. The sequel, Clockwork Samurai, will be released in 2015. Keep reading for a special preview!
If you’d like to receive a notification when the next book comes out, sign up at jeannielin.com.
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Qing Dynasty, 1851 A.D.
There were over a hundred thousand remedies stored in the royal apothecary of the Forbidden City. Some of the formulas came from ancient texts and were as old and revered as the First Emperor. Others had been recently borrowed from the medicines of the West. Each ingredient was organized into rosewood medicine cabinets which towered over me as I reported to the court of physicians for my daily rounds.
My routine was the same each morning. I had a scroll of names and beside each name a specific combination of herbs. As soon as I arrived, I would order the stoves lit and set to work.
The medicine drawers were stacked from the floor to the ceiling and ranged from the mundane to the exotic. Dried longan berries and fifty-year-old ginseng rested beside vials of quicksilver and black pearls ground to a fine dust.
I would have needed a ladder to reach the topmost level let alone a spyglass to read all the labels, but it was unnecessary. A set of brass dials had been built into the base of each cabinet. All I had to do was turn the dials to indicate which ingredients I wanted. Once the correct symbols were aligned, I pulled a lever and a set of mechanical arms came to life to retrieve the correct amounts from the drawers and deposit them into the collecting basins.
After six months of this, I knew the combinations by heart. My hands flew over the control panel, turning and pulling. After the ingredients were collected, I gave each bowl one last check before tossing it into the brewing pots to steep.
The names belonged to the women of the Emperor’s harem, from the lowest ranking concubine to the Empress herself. There were ten in number with one recently added. A young palace servant had caught the Emperor’s eye.
As fast as I tried to work, it always took me nearly two hours before all the elixirs were done. The formulas had been prescribed by the head physician and were meant to warm the blood and awaken the organs to increase fertility. I was merely an assistant to be given menial tasks.
I suppose it was an important endeavor, the empire did need an heir, but to my knowledge women became pregnant fairly well without the aid of special teas and acupuncture treatments. But this was part of the ritual of the palace. The Forbidden City was ruled by ritual.
One by one, I poured ten elixirs into ten delicately painted porcelain cups. To be picked up by ten maidservants.
I really shouldn’t complain. On the surface, it seemed a great honor to be one of the privileged few allowed into the inner palace. In truth, I knew I’d only been given this position because I was a woman. All of the other physicians and their assistants were eunuchs. No man who was intact was allowed near the Emperor’s precious consorts.
The maidservants formed a train behind me as I wound through the honeycomb of corridors and chambers, feeling very much like a worker bee traveling the hive.
When I’d first returned to Peking, I had been full of hope. Crown prince Yizhu had taken the throne as our new Emperor and Chang-wei had convinced me that Yizhu needed good people by his side, thinkers and planners who could guide him as he prepared for war against the foreign invaders.
Chen Chang-wei was the other reason I came back to the capital. He was an appointed official in the Ministry of Science, an engineer of the second rank now. We had been engaged a long time ago in an arrangement put in place by our families. I was only ten years old at the time.
I was eighteen now, unmarried and likely to remain so. But even though Chang-wei was no longer my intended, I trusted him. I would never admit it openly, but I still wanted him to think well of me.
As I entered the main courtyard of the women’s quarters, an all too familiar scent curled around me. Opium smoke, both bitter and sweet at once. The air was tainted with it.
That cloying smell used to come from my mother’s chamber every day. It clung to her clothes and hair and even though she hadn’t touched any of it for half a year, I knew she still craved it and the forgetfulness that only opium could bring.
The black poison was everywhere now. I knew the palace wasn’t immune to its lure. Opium use was common in among the eunuchs who would smoke as they lounged about, but this was the harem.
The Emperor would be furious! Though opium was used by eunuchs and servants and even high-ranking officials in their private leisure time, imperial women were strictly regulated.
I started toward the first set of doors, but they opened before I reached them. One glimpse of the golden-robed figure and I fell to my knees. The maidservants behind me did the same.
“Is that you, Miss Jin?” the Emperor drawled.
“Imperial Majesty,” I murmured, keeping my head down.
Now that Yizhu was Emperor no one was permitted to speak his name aloud. It made him mortal and he was supposed to be divine, the Son of Heaven.
“We never properly thanked you for your service to our land.”
He sounded sleepy, as if wading through a dream. My pulse jumped when Yizhu leaned over to personally help me to my feet. Though it could be taken as insolent, I raised my eyes to his.
His pupils had shrunken to two black pinpoints. My stomach sank, disappointed.
At nineteen, Yizhu was only a year older than me. When not raised up on his throne, our new Emperor presented a less than imposing figure. He was of average height with a lean build and his features were undeniably youthful—though he had aged in some imperceptible way since his coronation. The lines around his eyes and mouth cut deeper than I remembered.
I realized I had stared at Yizhu for too long when his slack, contented expression suddenly hardened. “Does the Chief Engineer’s daughter have something to say to the Emperor?”
I looked away, but couldn’t escape. My stomach knotted. “The Emperor knows my father is no longer the Chief Engineer.”
Yizhu was standing close, crowding me in the narrow corridor. Around us, the rest of my entourage remained with their foreheads to the ground while the Emperor’s retainers stood back, silent as statues.
“Now why is that, Miss Jin?” he asked slyly.
He had backed me up against the opposite wall, but I didn’t dare put a hand up to stop him.
“My father was stripped of his title,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady even though my heart was pounding. “Right before he was executed.”
“Oh, I forgot.” Yizhu’s smile was almost cruel as he fell into informal address. “I can restore your father’s title and grant him full honors, if you wish. I can do anything now, you know. Even have history rewritten.”
When Yizhu was still crown prince, he had promised me he would do exactly that if I helped him procure the gunpowder formula my father and his disciples had developed. He had wanted to build an army to fight against the foreign invaders.
A different man stood before me now in an opium stupor.
No one else dared to say anything to him, but I couldn’t stay silent. “Imperial Majesty, if someone sees you—”
“Have you ever tried it, Miss Jin?”
“No, Imperial Majesty.”
My palms began to sweat as he leaned in even closer.
“Isn’t it the way of things now? We must allow the poison inside, let it fester until we grow strong enough to expel it. Just like the Yangguizi growing rich in our ports.”
I started to reply about foreign devils and how all of the imperial edicts prohibiting the sale of opium would amount to nothing if the Emperor himself were addicted, but I never had a chance to speak. Yizhu’s fervor cooled as quickly as it had come.
“It’s wonderful,” he continued languidly. “The headaches, the pain, every single care goes away. I can appreciate simple pleasures once more; food, wine, beautiful women.”
The heat of his breath fanned against my cheek. The Emperor caught my wrist as I tried to slip past and I froze. His grip was iron around me and he was the Emperor. To raise a hand against him meant death.
“Radiant Highness.” A soft purr came from behind him. Over Yizhu’s shoulder, I saw Lady Tatara peeking out from the doorway. She held out her hand and beckoned to him playfully. That seemingly careless gesture communicated her elevated status to everyone present. “The Emperor’s most dutiful servant misses him dearly.”
Yizhu dropped my hand as he turned to her, grinning. The drooping look of contentment took over his face once more. He went to her without a glance back at me. Relief flooded through me.
As the Emperor took Lady Tatara into his arms, she gave me a single unreadable look before the double doors were pulled shut.
***
That evening we were gifted with a clear sky and the stars were out. As soon as I was free of my duties in the palace, I hurried into my mechanized sedan chair. Chang-wei had gifted it to our family since we couldn’t afford servants to take me to and from the palace.
I slid the beads of the abacus control board to coordinates located in the west corner of the imperial city. As I seated myself in the sedan, the gears and rotors whirred to life, turning the wheels to propel me through the streets.
Outside the palace, the shops had all closed. I passed by rickshaw drivers and street vendors as they packed up their wares. Mother and Tian would be waiting for me at home, but the exchange with the Emperor had unsettled me.