XIII. CHARLES LEE

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HE STEEPLED HIS FINGERS UNDER HIS CHIN AND wondered how many parts of himself he could commodify in order to buy what he wanted. The prestige he craved. The status he needed. The power that he yearned and hungered for, a gaping maw in the pit of his stomach that never closed no matter how many accolades or business accomplishments he filled it with. There would always be a part of him that could not stop this social-climbing, this urge to wrap his hands around money and control; it was that avarice that he forced himself to keep hidden. That avarice that forced its way out kicking and screaming in the form of heartless decision.

His only daughter, his only remaining child essentially sold to a gweilo. What had he done? Why had he done it? No, he knew why. He knew what he had done. Yet at times, when he pondered his actions, his decisions, he felt like an alcoholic. Charles felt like a man who, in the grip of drink, would do or say anything for just a drop more. Who woke up shaking, in cold sweats, not knowing what he might have done when choked by the vice of liquor.

"Lo gong," he heard his wife murmur. (1) "Gum ye, nei zhong mei fun?" (2)

He sipped his now-cooled tea and stared out at the view absentmindedly. A spectacular panorama of the harbour through expensive glass windows; it was a vision any man in Hong Kong could have killed for. Tonight his heart was heavy enough that he felt as if he had.

"How can I sleep," he asked her without turning around, "when I can barely breathe with the guilt of what I have done? I have all but sold Elizabeth to that... that foreign devil?"

She took the cup from his hands and set it down with the clink of china against china. "It will be alright. From what I have seen, he does seem to care for her somewhat."

He spat. "Bah! Care for her? Can he care for her, or is she only a novelty to him? An exotic toy for him to play with until he gets bored and longs for girls who speak Queen's English and have blue eyes and fair hair once more? I know young men, as I was once myself one. I know how they think, how they behave."

"But you think so little of her, then," she responded, rubbing his shoulders and digging her fingers into his neck too hard. It was likely on purpose and he groaned. "Tell me, is she incapable of holding a man's attention? Unworthy of it?"

"He is English. They cannot have more than one woman at a time—well, not in the eyes of their wives. If he grows bored of her and abandons her, she would be all alone and disgraced. He could not take on a second wife or a concubine," Charles countered.

His wife was silent. He knew she had always been heartbroken about his relationship with Elizabeth's mother. He had wanted more sons, and she had been almost thirty when they married because of her family's wealth and her father's insistence upon finding the best possible match. She had produced one son after they had married off many daughters. Frederick had been pampered and spoiled due his status as the only son. It had ruined him. Charles had, in the eyes of society, no choice but to find another wife or a tseep si to produce more sons. (3)

Yet Elizabeth's mother had died in childbirth—giving birth to a daughter. And his first wife had taken one look at that baby, held it and cooed over it in that unintelligible way that only females were capable of, and declared that Elizabeth was her daughter as much as any of her own offspring were. He did not know any woman who could be as formidable, as loving, as compassionate, as his wife was. On nights like this he felt honoured that she was his.

"Do not borrow trouble, for every day has enough of its own," she murmured. "Come to bed. It's late."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head. "Very well, then. If you insist."

☕️

SHAFTS OF MOONLIGHT FELL ACROSS HIS BEDCHAMBER, ILLUMINATING his wife's serene expression as she slept. She looked in slumber to be at least ten years younger. Some of the distress and worry had been stripped from her face, making her look vulnerable, carefree, almost childlike. As he lay awake in bed, memory engulfed him once more. 

All he could think of was how this deal had come to be. Jardine Matheson has promised to expand his shipping empire. Before that, his first contact with foreigners and their hongs was when he had been building storehouses for ice from Frederic Tudor's company to be sold to the few British and European expats unaccustomed to the Hong Kong heat. (3) Then they had offered him the deal: he would allow them into the ports he controlled in Canton, Shanghai and Hong Kong. That had been years ago, and in exchange they had paid him a percentage of the goods that passed through them. However, during the Opium Wars he had been unable to provide the same amount of protection and trade access, and they had considered it to be a debt of sorts that he owed them. Thus, they had asked for his daughter. 

And he had for some reason given her to them.


(1) 老公 - husband

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(1) 老公 - husband. A common practice in Chinese is to call family members by their relation to you, not their name.

(2) 真麼夜、 你沒睡? - it's so late, and you haven't slept yet?

(3) 行 - a foreign trading company that did business in China 

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