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Prologue

Canton Port, China

Wang Yao dragged himself down the muddy road, sighing at the slow pace he was making.

As he was unemployed, he hoped that he would be hired by his uncle who he was then trying to reach for. He knew that the chances were slight, but survival counted the small possibilities. Three years as potter apprentice taught him the skills of making beautiful things out of plain earth. Nonetheless, this marksmanship that was once appreciated by people all around had lost its standings. People no longer had the leisure to look at art nor the money to buy them. The Opium war had robbed China of all its prosperity. The economy of was bad, prices of products was dangerously low, the lack of fields failed to sustain food for its people. Facing the dire of hunger and unemployment, China was a potpourri of rebellions, sickness and death.

Yao was just one of the many victims in this mess. He counted himself lucky to have a wealthy relative who could help- they said there was nothing thicker than a bond of the same blood.

Family bonds led Yao to be adopted by his uncle after he was orphaned by the death of both parents, he owed to it for all the care and decent education received.

But with the guilt of being an extra burden when the uncle had children of his own to feed, Yao proposed independence. His uncle introduced him to an apprenticeship through connections, it was the last favour–Yao promised he would take from the good man.

Unfortunately, he was in desperate need of work, his survival instinct conflicted with his principles.

How he hoped an alternate option would appear out of nowhere.

After manoeuvring through the difficult tracks, Yao finally came to a bustling town, the busyness was generated by trading of its sea port.

Yao spotted a modest eatery and decided to eat there. There were not many customers given the time of the day, and he could faintly hear the two men sitting near him who were discussing avidly about the latest predicament of their country.

The first man complained about the Manchu court's rule, obscenities accompanied his discontentment. He prided himself as a true, hot-blooded Han Chinese by expressing hatred towards the sovereignty of an alien tribe.

Being the cynical youngster he was, Yao noted the queue wore by the self-declared true Han, it was ironic that he wore the ultimate symbol of submersion while declaring himself as otherwise.

In contrast of his behaviour, his companion was more rational, he tried to pacify and warned against the dangers of talking behind the rulers back. "The walls have ears, Ngaou. Better that you stop here."

Then he shrewdly switched topics: "I say, why don't you put the blame on the whites instead? The terrible foreigners were the ones who brought opium to our people and made a mess of the country. "

This had flicked on Yao's intrigue, he was curious of the world outside China especially of the white men who terrorized the Son of Heaven. Rumours of a greater power not only awed him, they brought many speculations. From the talk of former colleagues, Yao learned that the Westerners had big ships and guns that were fast to load, he also absorbed the details about the unfair treaties the Manchu court was forced to sign. Among them, a treaty was notable for giving Westerners authority to escape from regular jurisdiction of Chinese laws, which meant that Westerners could bully and kill Chinese yet were not to be judged.

Yao raged for the treatment of Chinese but he knew it was a dog eat dog world out there, and he felt pity and fear for all Chinese, including himself.

"Indeed. Indeed. We should not avert our eyes from the cruelty of the whites. They do nothing but harm China," said Ngao.

"I am happy that you agree. But unfortunately, your judgement is clouded by bias." The man shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"The whites have done something good to us too. They offer China a chance."

"Eh?" Yao was as confused as Ngao, the horrible foreigners offer them chances?"Get to the point, my friend. You know that I am not too bright."

"You see, the whites made the court sign a treaty—"The rest of the talk was the turning point of Yao's life, he learned the existence of a treaty that let Chinese work overbroad. Working on what he heard, it did not took him long to grasp that it may be an answer to his joblessness. He stopped chewing his food as if the information will slip away if he did not concentrate with the task of listening.

Yao listened eagerly as the man continued to delve into the results of the treaty, he told what knew of the coolie system which was spawned from it. "People bound themselves to the contract of coolietradesmen who offer them transport in exchange of labour. You see, their service to the coolie tradesmen would end if they repaid their debts."

"I knew there were many peasants flogging themselves but not the details…"Ngao said.

"There more to it. Do you know why so many are willing? No? Actually, the greatest attraction to the deal was that freed coolies can develop their own business overbroad and thrive from it. The fact was proven by many coolie slaves who made name of themselves."

Yao almost choked on the food hearing the prospects. It was a golden opportunity shoved his way, just how could he remain calm? He gave in to coughing fits, his hands trembled excitedly in reach of the teacup.

Many destitute Chinese had betted on this. Why shouldn't he be one too?

Soothing himself with the drink, Yao phrased his question and demanded the courage for asking it.

"Excuse me, sirs. How can one be a coolie?"

Two men scrutinized at the stranger who asked them an abrupt question, Ngao opened his mouth to reply but he was halted by his companion.

"You need recommendation for the job, kid."

"Of whose?"

"We can help you with that. But the initial payment of your registration will be ours."

Yao shrugged. The man was attempting to extort him.

But could he let the chance go? Was there anyone else that would help him for free?

The answer to both was no. He doubted anyone would help him without compensation on his part. Besides, the suggestion of work was too alluring to deny. There was nothing to lose too as the man did not suggest him to pay now.

"Kid, there is no free meal in this world." Knowing his companion's motive, Ngao urged Yao to agree, but unlike his friend's businesslike tone, his was a giveaway of greed.

"I agree to your condition," replied Yao.

"Follow us." The men could not resist their shrewd smiles.

/

Yao suppressed his suspicion as he followed them into the crisscross of alleyways, he resisted of asking why they were not using the main roads.

"Don't look so grim. I doubt there is anything on you for us to rob."

Yao blushed. How the man did knew what he was thinking? Was the anxiety written on his face?

Their pace was slow, the dirty roads stank of rot and urine, huge rats roamed the place. Yao wondered where they were heading and the distinct smell of fish and salt answered his question, they were nearing a port.

"See, we brought you to the right place as promised."Ngao's plump finger pointed at the long line of pheasants spanning from the edge of the land to the dockyard. Despair and poverty marked their faces, they all wore shabby tunics and dirty cotton pants. Yao winced, he was soon to be stuck between the mass of sweaty bodies.

"Sun is bright, it's a breezy day. I expect they set sail soon," said Ngao's friend. The huge ship swayed left and right under the whim of rolling waves, white sails undulated in the gentle wind, indeed the weather was perfect for departure.

"Let's hurry then," said Yao. The men nodded and led him to the lone dockyard that stood out conspicuously on the barren land, they met a man with a black book and pen in hand.

"I brought a volunteer," Ngao said in the Cantonese dialect. Yao spoke bad Cantonese but he understood it as well as one could for his uncle used the dialect with his Canton concubine.

The man smirked. "You sure he volunteered?" he turned to Yao. "Did those men trick you into this?"

Yao did not try to defend the men, the two men also acted indifferent and left as soon as the money was received. He watched as their backs disappeared from view.

"What are you doing? Get into the damn line!" Yao was given a harsh push, he fell to the hard ground due to sheer momentum.

"Hey!" Yao protested in anger.

The offender smile was a satisfactory one, his job was a dull-marking the number of coolies the company obtained every day—and he was glad that he was presented someone to taunt on.

Yao received a punch on the face, it dislodged a tooth from his gums, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. "Shut up dog. You signed up for this, so don't complain."

"That doesn't give you the right to beat me!" Yao cowered from the raised fist but that did not stop him from retorting defiantly, he felt confused and angry at the mistreatment. Tears for injustice and self-pity blurred his vision.

"Hahaha! This is priceless." The man laughed on. "That doesn't give you the right to beat me." He mimicked the words with a whiny tone.

Yao caressed the wounds on his knees and face, they hurt but the humiliation hurt more. It took all the restrain he had to stop doing the same to the cruel man, but Yao knew the consequences and its futility. Unceremoniously, he left to queue up.

But the man persisted: "Hey you there, watch him. He's a troublemaker." He ordered the nearby guards.

/

The people in the port were herded onto the ship like a pack of obedient sheep, there was no sign of flurry, anguish brood over them. Yao would find sympathy if not that he too, was in the same situation as they were. Worse off, he had a swollen face, freshly scrapped knees and labelled troublemaker.

The midday sun shone agonizingly on the bald areas of his head. Yao decided he will let the hair grow out as soon as he left China, he realized that he will be soon free of Manchu's jurisdiction.

Was Chinese overbroad allowed to cut their queue?

The weight of his decision of settling in an unknown land dawn him, it meant freedom and opportunity, but also a certain risk and to leave everything behind. Perhaps he was too reckless, would he miss his homeland? So far, he did not feel so, he was too occupied with the anticipation of a bright future. Besides, there was nobody that Yao was especially attached to. He had visited his uncle's household during the New Year and felt alienated to be amongst them, but he might write to them to inform his whereabouts.

Yao finally reached the gangplank at sundown, being the last of the pack, the ship left soon as he was secured onboard.

Where was this ship heading? He had no chance to ask. Well, what can he do even if he knew?

/

For those who read the story before, I made some adjustment here and there. I am very very sorry. Thank you for reading.

I would like to credit my beta reader, Smol . Cake, for helping me with the fic.

Now for the historical aspects:

1-There are two separate timelines for this story: The 18th century, during Emperor Yong Zeng reign (1722-1735) and a century or so later after the second opium war (1860).

2-The queue was a specific male hairstyle worn by the Manchu people, later imposed on the Han Chinese during the Qing dynasty. The hairstyle consisted of the hair on the front of the head being shaved off above the temples every ten days and the rest of the hair braided into a long ponytail. Imagine China half bald…