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Neither of them looked over thirty. The first, a Han Chinese, was a thin, nervous fellow with round eyeglasses. He was called Gao. The other was a short, plump Manchu, whose broad face was puckered as if he were looking into the wind. He didn’t seem to say much. But they both seemed friendly enough and showed proper respect for his rank.

“We thought you might like to know what we do here,” Ru-Hai said when the pleasantries were over.

“By all means,” said Shi-Rong.

They moved down the room towards the map on the wall. The Manchu stood on one side of it with a long pointer. Gao stood on the other. Ru-Hai nodded to him. Evidently this was a routine they’d rehearsed.

“We are here,” said Gao, “to save the empire.”

“Well,” said Shi-Rong with a smile, “I suppose somebody’s got to do it.”

None of the three young men thought this was funny.

“For centuries,” Gao went on, “the Celestial Empire had little need of anything from beyond its borders. Envoys from other lands came to pay tribute and to learn from us, since our power, our wealth, our civilization, was superior to theirs.” He paused for a moment. “Then came the British pirates from the West, corrupting our people with their opium. We told them to desist. They attacked us. Their ships, cannon, and rifles were superior. And now look where they are.”

On cue, the Manchu took his long pointer and rapped the map on one place after another, along the coast and on the Yangtze River.

“Treaty ports where the barbarians live under their own laws. Little kingdoms within our own empire. Why? Because, while we ignored them for two hundred years, they had improved their weapons. The world had changed, but we didn’t know it.”

“The mission of the Tsungli Yamen,” Ru-Hai said, taking up the theme, “is to contain the barbarians, to learn from them, and to protect our land. But it hasn’t been easy. We find, for instance, that to their credit, they will abide by the treaties they make. Recently therefore we renegotiated the agreements concerning the ports and the trade tariffs. The new treaty was fair to both sides. But when the unhappy British envoy sent it to his own government, they refused to ratify. Whatever we give, they always seem to want more.”

“They have no respect for our traditions,” said Gao, “and they want everything done their own way.”

“Ten years ago,” Ru-Hai said to his father, “we tried to buy warships from the West. Yet we still can’t get them. We suspect the British prefer us to be weak.”

“And whether this is a deliberate policy or not,” Gao continued, “the fact is that other countries still perceive us as defenseless, so they take advantage.”

“Russia,” announced Ru-Hai. And the Manchu tapped the map on the wall again. “They have Vladivostok. But we know very well that they’re after another huge territory up in Manchuria. They’ve already got troops there. Will we be able to make them withdraw? It remains to be seen.” He turned to the Manchu. “France,” he called out.

The Manchu tapped the map up and down the long coastline south-west of China’s border. “Tonkin, Annam, Vietnam—call these lands what you like—they have either been part of our empire or paid us tribute for two thousand years. But last year the French moved in and made themselves overlords of the region.”

“The French despise us,” said Gao. “First they build huge churches to dominate the landscape and convert our people to their religion. Now they’re calmly taking over our tributary kingdoms.”

“So what are you suggesting we do?” Shi-Rong asked him. “Go to war with the French?”

“When we’re strong enough, maybe yes,” Gao answered.

“Here’s the thing, Father,” said Ru-Hai. “A generation ago we underestimated the British Navy. We have come to terms with Britain now, but our own navy is weak and our land forces far behind. Now we’re making the same mistake with all these other barbarian powers. We still haven’t learned our lesson. And there’s one power that is far more dangerous than either the Russians or the French, because it’s right on our doorstep.”

“Japan!” cried Gao.

And now the Manchu banged his pointer repeatedly on the country of Japan, so violently that he seemed to be trying to drive Mount Fuji down into the ocean.

“Twenty-five years ago,” Gao went on, “Japan was closed to the world. Then the American, Commodore Perry, came with modern warships and smashed the Japanese navy. Forced them to open their ports to trade, but with unequal treaties, to America’s advantage. Just like the British did with us. What happened next? The Japanese woke up. They have a new emperor, Meiji, who’s taken power, and Japan is changing as never before. They’re taking all the knowledge they can from the Western barbarians, developing a new, modern army. Not only that, they know that if they want to defend themselves in the future, they need to expand their control across the seaways.”

“You mean the Ryukyu Islands,” Shi-Rong cut in. The Ryukyu Islands might be small, but they stretched all the way from the shores of Japan to the island of Formosa, as the barbarians liked to call Taiwan. Three years ago, the Japanese had landed on those little islands and taken them over. He’d been quite shocked. But nothing had been done about it.

“Of course. Our Ryukyu Islands,” his son responded. “And like the weak fools we are, we let them. Next thing, they’ll want Taiwan, which has been ours for two hundred years.”

“I suppose I’m a bit out of touch down in Jingdezhen,” said Shi-Rong, “but as far as I could discover, it was the Tsungli Yamen—you fellows here—that let them do it.”

“Not us,” the three young men cried. “The old idiots that are still in charge and don’t even work here full-time.”

“I see.” Shi-Rong grimaced. “And Prince Gong?”

“Prince Gong should never have let this happen,” said Ru-Hai sadly. “But the dowager empress wasn’t listening to him.”

“And still isn’t now,” said Shi-Rong, remembering the

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