Clockwork Samurai

by Jeannie Lin

  Her expression was dreamlike. Disturbingly, it was not entirely unlike an opium trance, though her eyes were focused.

  “Engineer Kuo brought this to me.” She straightened the papers and carefully placed them back inside the portfolio.

  I was taken aback. “Kuo Lishen? Why would the chief engineer come to you?”

  “I sent him a letter a few days ago.” Mother sighed. “Soling, I’ve been in a waking dream for so many years. It’s . . . it’s difficult to be back here, in this city. And to have to see everything and feel everything. To not be able to close my eyes.”

  I knew it was hard for her to talk about the past.

  “Peking is no longer our home. I don’t know if we have a home anymore. And the days are so long now. They stretch on forever. We get by from the money you and Engineer Chen provide, but—”

  “Chen Chang-wei gives you money?”

  She looked surprised that I hadn’t known. “For Tian’s studies.”

  I remembered Chang-wei mentioning he would help my brother when we reached Peking, but I had thought he meant securing him entrance to one of the science academies within the capital.

  “We have to give it back.”

  Mother didn’t argue with me. Instead, she smiled faintly. “So you understand why I contacted Kuo. I asked him if there was any way I could be of service to the Ministry. I was trained in the scientific branch of the Hanlin Academy, did you know? I would have passed the exams as well, if it weren’t for . . .”

  Her voice trailed away, and she looked sullen. As if a light had sparked within her for only a moment before slowly fading away, starved of oxygen.

  “Old Liu Yentai told me you were a gifted mathematician,” I told her gently.

  She touched her finger once more to a brass dial on the calculating machine. “We didn’t have a calculating machine in my father’s shop when I was growing up. When I first came to the Academy, I used only an abacus. But I was faster than most of the other candidates. Confucian scholars insist it is wrong for a woman to take such glory, to boast about her accomplishments, but it was mere fact.”

  “You met Father at the Academy?”

  “I met your father at the Academy.” She folded her hands before her. Her tone sounded faraway and wistful. “I met Kuo Lishen as well. We were all candidates for the exams, can you believe it? Your father had already failed one attempt. Kuo had failed twice. I believe the examiners at that time expected one to fail. They wanted to select candidates that were determined enough to come back. Science is inherently full of failure, Soling. Failures and retrials.”

  It was strange to hear her talking like this. Not like the mother I remembered as a child or the stranger who had been confined to her room, her eyes glassy with opium smoke filling her lungs.

  She sounded almost like my father used to when he spoke of his work at the Ministry. In front of me, their conversations had been brief. Reports of what happened that day. But what had their conversations been like in private?

  I fell silent, eager to hear more of Mother’s secret past—which was apparently only secret to us, her children.

  “When I was discovered, another candidate threatened to expose me. I had to leave the Academy and pursue a different life, but I still loved numbers. When the figures come together, when they balance out, there’s indescribable beauty in it. Peace.”

  She closed the lid of the calculating machine gently, as if it held her most precious jewels.

  “So you asked Chief Engineer Kuo to give you work?”

  “I was so proud of you when you were appointed to a position within the palace. Envious and proud.” She reached out to tuck back a strand of my hair, and I stiffened, then immediately felt bad for doing so. But Mother continued. “Kuo said it was impossible to employ me at the Ministry. Too many people there knew of my marriage to your father—and of the unfortunate incidents that happened.”

  His execution. How the Daoguong Emperor had condemned him. Even though Yizhu had promised to officially clear Father’s name, people still remembered.

  “But Engineer Kuo said there was work I could do for him outside the Ministry. Rote work, he admitted. But I was grateful for the chance to do something useful again. So he brought the machine and these designs here.”

  I remembered the man who had run into me at the door. I’d only caught a glimpse of his face, but had that been Kuo Lishen?

  “The chief engineer came himself?”

  Mother nodded as if it were nothing.

  With secret documents and some hidden task. I didn’t like that one bit. “Let me see those plans again.”

  I opened the portfolio to look through the drawings once more, but they were as cryptic to me as they had been upon first glance.

  “What is this really, Mother? Why does Kuo need you to work on it outside of the Ministry?”

  “It’s in pieces,” Mother explained, trying to keep the pages in order as I rifled through them. “There are entire rooms full of retainers calculating such sums in the Ministry.”

  I thought of how Kuo antagonized Chang-wei, but did that make him a villain? Mother knew more about the chief engineer than I.

  “It’s good you’ve found work, Mother,” I said instead.

  “It is good,” she agreed, tapping the calculating machine. “When I was at the Academy, I dreamed of a different life, solving important problems on a grand scale for the Emperor. But everything changes so quickly, Soling. I’m fortunate Engineer Kuo remembers me from before. I suppose it would be hard for him to forget.”

  “Was it Kuo who threatened to expose you back then?”

  “Hmm?” Mother glanced up from the papers. “Oh no. It was your father who made the most trouble for me. He was a man of strict morals and honor, even then.”

  * * *

  I stayed awhile longer, sharing tea with my mother. She was absorbed in the new work Chief Engineer Kuo had commissioned, and I could tell she was eager to start.

  Nan came back from the market with a sack full of yams for the evening meal. I handed my silk purse of coins over to her, which she pocketed without a word. This silent exchange was routine between us. Mother didn’t look up from her formulas, though she was well aware of what was happening. I don’t think she even trusted herself with money.

  My brother returned from the Academy close to sundown. Tian was ten years of age now, and more serious every year. He gave the calculating machine a curious glance before setting down his books beside it.

  “Greet your elder sister properly and wash up for dinner, Son.”

  Mother ran a hand over his crown before going to see to Nan in the kitchen. The easy affection between them caught me by surprise. In the past, it had always been my brother and me, clinging together. It was another sign that time had passed. That we were all different now.

  “Nín hăo, Soling,” he mumbled.

  “How are your studies, Brother?”

  “Well, Elder Sister.”

  “You seem taller.”

  He shrugged and said nothing. Tian was sprouting like a bamboo reed. His face was thinning out as he lost the roundness of youth, which made him look more and more like father.

  Supper was in the common room, and the three of us sat around the square tables like we always had. Mother plucked pieces of yam into my brother’s bowl, and they exchanged words quietly to each other.

  I couldn’t help but feel I was intruding. “How are your tutoring sessions with Engineer Chen?”

  “He’s a good teacher.” Then, after a pause, “He asks about you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Often?”

  Mother glanced up. What made me ask such a foolish question?

  “Not often,” Tian amended, causing my spirits to plummet.

  I couldn’t linger for too long after dinner. My leave only allowed me until sundown
to return to the palace. I bid my farewell to my family, promised to return in a month as I always did and said the usual parting words.

  “Study hard, Tian. Take care, Mother.”

  They stood at the door with Nan just behind them as I set the controls of the sedan. As the machine whirred to life, Mother gave a small wave before putting her arm around Tian to lead him back inside.

  A wave of loneliness swept over me as the wheels of the sedan began to turn. My family was growing closer, while I was drifting away. Though we’d been poor in our village, though we’d been hungry and fearful, it was what we knew. There was a strange comfort in that.

  But our lives were better now because I worked in the palace. Much better.

  I looked over my shoulder to the house at the end of the lane and watched it until it disappeared.

  * * *

  The sun was setting as the sedan passed through the east gate into the imperial city. A functionary stood just inside, watching my approach expectantly.

  He bowed once. “Physician Jin Soling, you have been summoned.”

  I was immediately ushered into a carriage that set off out through the gates once more. I watched the streets fly by outside the carriage window, and my stomach knotted as we moved beyond the walls. We were leaving the inner city.

  An airship came into view in the distance, the distinctive red balloon visible against the orange dusk. We were headed toward the Summer Palace.

  Dark rumors floated about the Summer Palace. This was where the Emperor had women brought to him. Dancers, entertainers, Han women with their bound lotus feet. Women who were unsuitable as consorts, yet no woman was truly forbidden to the Emperor.

  I knew Yizhu wasn’t as depraved as the eunuchs made him out to be, but I grew nervous as the carriage neared the palace grounds. I had never been summoned to the Summer Palace. The celebrations and rituals there were meant for the highest ranked of the Emperor’s subjects.

  The airship loomed large with the dragon’s head carving clearly visible at the prow. A symbol of the imperial fleet. The carriage passed through the outer gate with armed guards monitoring the passage from the watchtowers.

  Rather than heading into the palace proper, the carriage veered west toward the airfield. My curiosity ran wild.

  The imperial court often gathered for the launching of the dragon ships, but as we neared the vessel, there was only a small retinue of imperial guards. Everyone else appeared to be airfield staff or crewmen.

  Headman Aguda stood at the dock, still and foreboding. He nodded toward me as I stepped down from the carriage.

  “You’re late, Miss Jin,” he said, coming toward me in long strides. “The ship nearly left without you.”

  I stared up at the billowing red sails and the great balloon frame filled with hot air. The gunpowder engines rumbled within the lower gondola. Thick cables kept the airship tethered, but the dragon was straining against the anchors, vying to fly free.

  Aguda held a scroll out to me, and, in a daze, I reached for it, not yet comprehending.

  “Your new assignment awaits.” His lips twitched as he gestured toward the rope ladder.

  My heart pounded. There was only one airship mission I knew of scheduled to embark this week. Chang-wei’s diplomatic mission to Japan.

  Tentatively, I placed a hand upon the rope ladder. An attendant came to help me onto it. I hugged the scroll tight to my chest as I clung to the rope. Bit by bit, I was hoisted up toward the deck.

  Chen Chang-wei was there, staring at me in astonishment as I climbed on board.

  “So this is our late arrival?” A middle-aged man in imperial uniform, who I assumed was the captain, stood next to Chang-wei.

  I handed him the scroll. “Sir.”

  My voice caught in my throat. Chang-wei’s gaze bore into me, seeking explanation. Unfortunately, I didn’t have one to give.

  “Physician Jin Soling.” The captain looked from the scroll to me, then back. “Every ship has need of a good physician. Especially in foreign lands.”

  He didn’t sound convinced. Nevertheless, an official decree was not one to be questioned. A moment later, he gave the order to free the ropes.

  Chang-wei regarded me without blinking. “Soling.”

  “Chang-wei.”

  For the moment it was just the two of us, face-to-face, as the crew prepared to lift off.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said finally.

  I glanced back down to the ground as the airship began its steady rise. Headman Aguda lifted two fingers in an informal salute.

  “I’m glad as well,” I murmured.

  From the outside, it might have looked like Aguda was showing me favor. I had asked to be reassigned from the harem, and here I was. But everything the headman did was for his own gain. If he put me on this mission, it could only mean it served his plans.

  Aguda needed eyes and ears on this airship. And the likely target of his attention was Chen Chang-wei.

  Chapter Six

  Captain Zhao worked to accommodate my presence, instructing the crew to clear a cabin. When I came to my temporary lodging, a satchel had been placed upon the sleeping berth. Someone had packed my personal belongings inside: a folding leather case containing acupuncture needles, a kit of medicinal herbs.

  There was little privacy in the palace, but the thought of Aguda or his minions going through my room made my skin crawl. But I’d been granted freedom. At least for the moment.

  By the time Chang-wei came by, we were high up in clouds. The sky outside my window was a dark, inky swirl, penetrated dimly by the guide lanterns fixed around the hull of the airship.

  “Were you aware of this?” Chang-wei asked.

  “I was summoned directly to the airfield. I requested a new assignment, but I never thought Headman Aguda would bring me here.”

  With Chang-wei. My pulse pounded excitedly.

  Chang-wei raised an eyebrow. “You asked to be reassigned?”

  “I had to do something. The Emperor . . . the way he—” It was too difficult to explain.

  The details were unimportant. The important thing was that I could breathe easy now. I didn’t have to worry about being caught in some palace scheme or unwittingly attracting the Emperor’s notice.

  Chang-wei nodded, but his expression remained distant. Thoughtful. He closed the cabin door and pulled a stool up beside the bed.

  “You don’t seem happy about this,” I prompted as he sat down. I was a bit wary of the situation myself.

  “No. No, this is good. This is useful.”

  I was unconvinced.

  Chang-wei finally met my gaze directly. His tone changed, and he became all business. The serious scholar and official I’d come to know.

  “Diplomatic visits to Japan are not permitted,” he explained. “Only trading ships are allowed into Nagasaki, and only the ones that have been properly sanctioned.”

  “And this airship?”

  “Captain Zhao has a long-standing agreement with the trading houses in Nagasaki. I’m posing as a physician being brought in to treat the inhabitants in the Chinese foreign settlement.”

  “So it makes perfect sense for me to pose as—”

  “As my wife,” he finished. “This was good thinking on Aguda’s part. Perfect sense.”

  His reluctant tone told me he wasn’t quite convinced, either. “This isn’t the first time Aguda has tried to use us for his schemes.”

  “But he’s not here now. It’s just you and me,” I assured, even as suspicion gnawed at me.

  “The Grand Council doesn’t trust me.”

  “I trust you.”

  Chang-wei was unquestioningly loyal to the throne. He had convinced me the empire’s struggle was our struggle.

  He seemed to relax, though only slightly. “There’s no need for them to worry. My
motives are clear for anyone to see. I want to propose a collaboration. Simple.”

  “What sort of . . . collaboration?”

  The choice of word was strange in and of itself. I knew little of military matters, but a nation that had kept itself in isolation for several hundred years wasn’t likely to change within the course of a single visit.

  “The empire of Japan has developed weapons that can be of use to us. Advanced firearms, based on Western designs.”

  I moved to the edge of the berth. “Will guns be enough to defeat the Yangguizi?”

  “It’s not the foreigners we’re fighting.” His tone took on a grave note. “A larger threat comes from within. The rebel army is advancing on Shanghai.”

  “Heaven and earth.”

  An army of thousands had besieged us in Changsha. Miners and laborers and peasants who were tired of being enslaved.

  “They’ve grown stronger since we faced them.”

  “If they’re able to take Shanghai—”

  “Then nothing will stop them from marching on Peking.”

  No wonder Yizhu was troubled day and night. A year ago, the rebel army had failed to take the city of Changsha, but the neighboring strongholds were not so fortunate. The rebels had modified the heavy machinery taken from the mines and factories and turned them into war engines. Cities crumbled beneath their assault. With each victory, their numbers swelled.

  “We don’t have the strength to hold off the Yingguoren and fight the rebels at the same time. The Emperor agreed to establish contact with the Japanese scientists. They might be willing to work with us.”

  “But it’s dangerous. We’re forbidden from going there.”

  He nodded. “This is not an official diplomatic mission, nor am I authorized to offer an alliance. The Emperor still believes his empire vastly superior to Japan. We are not to be seen as paying tribute.”

  It was a fine line to walk, but Chang-wei had experience striking such a balance. He’d lived among the Westerners for years.

  “You said that we had received a message from the Japanese,” I prompted. “Are they expecting us?”