“塞翁失马。Not all bad comes to cause harm.”
In the summer of 1836, the emperor began to feel the presence of British poison. The emperor received letters from Lin ZeXu, the virtuous statesman of Themis from Fuzhou. The reports included the British agenda in hiring smugglers to poison the people of China. Throwing away their conscience, these men sold their country for a quick bag of gold. Afterwards, they built underground networks and opium dens, while corrupt officials turned a blind eye once bribed.
For any royal, state affairs came first. Instead of travelling with his sons to the palace in Jilin, where falconry was best practiced, the emperor headed towards Tainjin and told his sons - except Xiang - to return to the Forbidden City. At this point, Xiang remained unaware of his mother’s demise, and his mother Akhlys did not want to ruin his first and only trip with his father.
In the carriage, the emperor revealed his worries about the drug reeking into the country. Tainjin, being close to the emperor’s ports, was one of the areas heavily affected. He wanted to see for himself the situation. Suddenly, a cart passed by the palanquin, and Xiang felt a surge of power (passive #3). He ordered the guards to halt and inspect the passing cart. Lo and behold, under the pounds of hay were twenty alcohol jars filled with poppy seeds. Mahjong, the emperor may have yelled.
Naturally, the smugglers were tortured, and the emperor was amazed with his son’s divine gift. Yes, the prince’s otherworldly skill is a gift, while an ordinary man’s was considered witchcraft. Like a child with his new toy, the emperor went into the town and asked his son to point out unlikely spots for opium trade. Within the span of two weeks, a hundred smugglers were detained and beheaded. Xiang felt remorse for these men. On one hand, they ought to make a living, yet on another, they take a life to benefit their own. The moral debate bothered him for the next few years.
Upon returning to the palace, however, Xiang was devastated at the news of his mother’s death. His grief-stricken godly mother explained the situation - how Xiao was threatened and how she loved her enough to respect her choices. Thus, Xiang was further enraged when ministers suggested he become the adopted son of the empress. This prompted him to lock himself in his mother’s palace, refusing anyone’s comfort but his godly mother’s. His protest continued for the next eight months.
The emperor could not bear his son’s grief. No father could. After reading Xiao’s secret letter to him, part of him blamed himself for taking the child away from his mother, even if it was momentarily. Yet, Xiang proved himself to be useful, so the emperor could not have regrets. Xiao’s final humble wish was simple: an ordinary, peaceful life for the boy. For the soul of his deceased wife, he sent Xiang away to his favorite prime minister Lin ZeXu and commanded them to expel opium from the country. In 1838, fourteen-year-old Xiang’s crown prince status was retracted, and he was allowed to leave the palace as an official-in-training.
The duo initially did not get along. Xiang was angered about having his crown prince status retracted from him, so he was an emotional mess. Moreover, his mother Akhlys stopped her dream visits, as Xiang reminded her too much of her deceased lover. Meanwhile, Lin also had many demands on discipline and morality. Being a prince, the latter never knew the terms of hard labor and rules. Xiang operated on conscience, not a strict code. However, Lin found a way to gain the boy’s respect.
Three months in Hubei, the duo were invited to Lin’s home court of Fuzhou to judge a child and his crimes. The child, who came from a rich family, was notorious for bullying and beating up other children. When presented into court, the father would spare the rod and bribe the aggrieved, showing no remorse. It was customary in Confucian culture to leave a parent or master to discipline a minor, so no proper justice could be given to the victims. This angered Xiang. Even so, Lin continued to allow the rich man to continue in paying the aggrieved party.
Out of righteous anger, Xiang ran into the child bullying his classmate again and personally taught the spoiled child a lesson. The next day, the father and son came into court to complain. However, they were merely given compensation. Xiang was, after all, the son of the great DaoGuang emperor. Only the emperor and his family were above the law.
When asked why he was not punished, Lin replied: “Child, the law is neither good or bad. It is beneficial to the educated. However, if a man were to take the law into his own hands, we, as judges, must support them in the most lawful way without showing our biases. Their burden is our burden, for it is our laws that have failed them.”
Every since then, Xiang found new respect for Lin’s wisdom. Once that respect was established, the duo travelled around China and eradicated opium dens in a swifter manner for the next four years. Being a son of Themis, Lin could test if dealers were lying, but with Xiang, the process was cut to locating and confiscating opium warehouses. Their most famous was the dunking of 1,400 tons of opium into the sea. Of course, Lin wrote a letter of apology to Poseidon, who didn’t seem to mind using the drugs for his Atlantis parties. Under Lin, Xiang was also able to learn arts banned in the palace, such as toxicology and the usage of the poison technique Gu 蠱. Their success brought the emperor, who corresponded with his son, pride and joy.
In 1839, the British took advantage of Lin and Xiang’s efforts. Apart from burning Lin’s ethically praiseworthy letter to Queen Elizabeth, the merchants complained to their queen in court about savages who did not know the rules of trade. From the burning in Canton, they were 21 million pounds in debt. Moreover, Lin and Xiang demanded the trial of two British sailors for the death of a Chinese man, but such a story was twisted to the Queen of England as an act of self-defense. In a blind attempt to rein China back into her knees, a war began.
The British retaliation attacks in Jiangsu and Zhejiang infuriated the palace. Once praised, the two were now condemned. By decree of the emperor, Lin ZeXu was exiled into Xinjiang in 1840, and Xiang was to continue under the government of Fuzhou and await further imperial orders. In the next two years, sixteen-year-old Xiang was confined to judging menial court decisions in Fuzhou - cheating wives, sales of impotent cattle, murder of masters, and among other petty cases.
By early 1842, Hong Kong’s seizure was rumored, and Xiang was officially banished from the royal family. To the Chinese, an empty legacy was worse than death. His now failure as a royal forever to be erased, but so will his successful feats. Unknown to all, the emperor had his reasons. The precious life of a skilled man was better than his death. This act became the emperor’s last gift to his son, fulfilling the deceased Consort Xiao’s wish of a humble life for ‘their’ son.
Still, Xiang felt wronged by his government. He and Lin reformed provincial courts, destroyed opium dens, revived the economy, and promoted Chinese nationalism - only for one to be tossed into jail and the other to be stripped off royalty? Someone had to be fucking with him. Where was justice, the Confucian teachings, and the rewards of the good? Was it his fate that led his deeds to the loss of China’s property? No word could describe his rage.
With bitterness in his heart, he was sent to Ching Shih, the infamous female pirate who ironically helped her friend Lin ZeXu defend the ports of China from opium, and was momentarily whisked away to the gambling houses in Macau, Hong Kong.
This, however, was not the end of Xiang’s story.