China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

“Everyone wants opium,” Sea Dragon had declared. “I could deliver a boatload every day. Every village is crying out for it. Let’s hope the emperor gives this accursed Lin a promotion and sends him elsewhere.”

“Wouldn’t we get another commissioner, just as bad?” one of his men suggested.

“No,” Sea Dragon told him. “The emperor can send whom he likes. No other mandarin’s going to hold the trade back. Lin’s the only one who ever has or ever will. The question is,” he’d remark grimly, “how long’s he going to stay?”

Nio always wanted to kill the commissioner, but Sea Dragon only laughed. “That’s not such an easy thing to do, my young friend,” he’d tell Nio. “We might surprise him in the street one day. But he won’t be by himself, you know. There’ll be attendants, troops…The difficulty’s getting away.”

Sea Dragon had sent Nio into the city several times recently. Using Nio made sense. Not only was he intelligent, but thanks to his accent and dialect—which immediately told any townsman that he came from farther down the coast—nobody would associate him with Sea Dragon and his men. Nio had been glad to go. At least it was a relief from the boredom of the camp. His job was to find out all he could about Commissioner Lin’s next plans and to listen for any whisper about opium that might be smuggled in.

He’d known that Shi-Rong was Lin’s secretary for months, ever since a stallholder in the market had pointed the young noble out to him. He’d followed Shi-Rong several times to see what he could learn about him, and the last time he was in the city, he’d seen him with young Fong and learned that Fong was working for him. He wondered if he could engage Fong in conversation.

Today, Nio had seen the two men eat a meal together. Then he’d followed Fong to a teahouse, where he’d met some other young fellows. Luck was on his side. He’d found a seat at the next table where he could eavesdrop on their conversation.

And before he’d finished drinking his tea, he’d realized how he could kill Commissioner Lin.

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Shi-Rong had a sleepless night. Again and again he tossed and turned on his bed. It was all he could do not to cry out aloud. How could he have been so stupid?

The one thing the commissioner had asked of him. Lin, to whom he owed everything. He’d asked for discretion, privacy. And what had he done?

In a moment of foolishness, he’d told young Fong about the truss. Sworn him to secrecy, of course. Of course! But what good was that? If I had a wife, Shi-Rong thought, I’d have told her. But that would have been different. He’d told Fong, a young bachelor who went out with his friends every night. That was always the way of it. You confide a secret to a friend, make him promise not to tell; then he does the same thing; and in an hour everybody knows.

How could he have been so stupid? So weak. If it got back to Lin, then he’d have lost his mentor’s trust forever. He’d be finished. His career over, for the rest of his life. And he’d have deserved it. He buried his face in his hands; he rocked his head; he clenched his fists in frustration and agony.

He was up at dawn. He had to find Fong. That was the first thing. But Fong was not at his lodgings, nor was there any sign of him in the streets. And after an hour Shi-Rong had to give up, because Commissioner Lin would be expecting him.

“He’s in a bad mood,” a servant warned him as Shi-Rong entered the big building.

Was the commissioner’s hernia troubling him? Had Fong already talked? Did Lin know? Inwardly trembling, Shi-Rong went into the office and was greatly relieved when his mentor indicated that he should sit down, and then began: “Today, Jiang, the British barbarians have shown themselves for what they really are.”

“What is that, Excellency?”

“You remember, before they left Guangzhou, I demanded they sign a guarantee not to ship any more opium to the Celestial Kingdom?”

“Of course, Excellency. Some of them signed, I recall, including Matheson, though Elliot refused to sign.”

“Did you think they meant to keep their word?”

“If you will forgive me, Excellency, I didn’t.”

“One should assume a man is honest until he proves he is not. When Elliot refused to sign, I asked myself: Why does he refuse? And it occurred to me that perhaps he knows the merchants are lying and he wants no part of a shameful business.”

“If I may say so, Excellency,” Shi-Rong ventured, “I believe you were imputing your own high virtue to Elliot, who may not be worthy of it.”

“Recently, as you know,” Lin continued, “we have had the disgraceful case of these British sailors murdering an innocent peasant on Chinese soil. I have rightly demanded the culprit be surrendered to us for justice. Today Elliot has refused. He has declared that he will try his own men, but that I may send an observer.”

“That is an impertinence to the Celestial Kingdom, Excellency.”

“Even more than that, Jiang. I have discovered that according to their own laws, these barbarian countries agree that if an offense like this is committed by one of their people in another country, then he should be tried and punished by the courts of the country where the crime took place. Yet now, in the Celestial Kingdom, which is so much greater, more ancient, and more moral than their own country, they refuse to obey even their own law. The merchants, I knew, were no better than pirates. Now I know that their government official has a contempt for all law and justice, even his own. This cannot be tolerated. I may soon have a new mission for you.”

“Whatever you command, Excellency.” A mark of further trust. Good news indeed. Shi-Rong bowed to the great man and was starting to