William Sullivan lay prone, quietly listening to Xianfeng’s lament. The later rise of Han ministers like Zeng Guofan and Li Hongzhang was truly due to the fact that there were no usable Manchu nobles left, and the Eight Banner troops, after their clashes with the Taiping Army, had been exposed as utterly corrupt and unable to withstand a single blow. Ever since the Qing entered the pass, it was actually the Manchu imperial clan who had always been the true rulers of this land; no matter how high a Han official rose, in the eyes of the imperial clan, he was nothing more than a lackey.

“Since you are well-versed in foreign affairs, you must not let your talents go to waste. How about this: you make a trip to Shanghai, deliver an imperial edict to the various barbarians, and handle the matter of customs duties.”

Xianfeng spoke lightly, but William Sullivan nearly choked on the spot. Wasn’t he afraid of biting his own tongue with such bold words? What? Deliver an edict to the various barbarians? Handle the customs duties? Is there a single one of those barbarians who would take our sacred decree seriously?

William Sullivan understood what Xianfeng meant. The Small Sword Society had rebelled and just captured Shanghai county; the customs supervisor Wu Jianzhang had fled into the foreign concessions and set up a temporary customs office, but the foreign merchants didn’t care at all, rendering the temporary customs office useless. Yet, the customs revenue from Shanghai was the main source of military pay for the Jiangnan Army Camp, so it was no wonder the Emperor was anxious.

In fact, William Sullivan was quite interested in making a trip to Shanghai to see for himself, to interact with the various “barbarians.” After all, the West was in the budding stage of modern civilization, much closer to the world he had known in his previous life. He figured he might even have more in common with these “barbarians.”

But William Sullivan didn’t want to go to Shanghai under the troublesome title of Imperial Commissioner. Throughout the Qing dynasty, this was the hardest job—great rewards and great punishments. Even people like Li Hongzhang and Sengge Rinchen had been punished multiple times as Imperial Commissioners.

Yet, no matter how unwilling, William Sullivan could only kneel and thank the Emperor with a face full of gratitude and tears: “Your Majesty’s favor is the blessing of my life. I will certainly live up to your high expectations and handle this task beautifully.”

Xianfeng nodded slightly. “On this trip, do not let my painstaking efforts go to waste.”

……

On the way back, due to the strict security, with a horse-mounted incense burner leading the way and several personal guards surrounding them, the prince and William Sullivan each sat in their own sedan chair, making conversation inconvenient.

But once they entered the eastern gate of the prince’s mansion, the prince got out of his sedan and beckoned William Sullivan over, asking in a low voice, “This mission won’t be easy, will it?”

William Sullivan didn’t want him to worry, so he smiled and said, “It all depends on people. Who can say for sure?”

The prince squeezed his shoulder hard, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief.

Not long after, an edict was issued from the inner court, appointing First Class General of the State Aisin Gioro Jingxiang as the minister in charge of the affairs of the Jiang, Hai, and North Customs in the Su-Song-Taicang Circuit, to go to Shanghai and negotiate with the foreigners.

As soon as the official seal arrived, William Sullivan would have to set out immediately.

Chapter 9: We Are Civilized People

At the north entrance of the Xisi Archway, the shops stood in close rows, and the first establishment at the north entrance, Fuhe Lou, was one of the top places in the capital. Its gold-lacquered signboard gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.

Fuhe Lou was famous for its braised chicken, with its marinade passed down for over a dozen generations. The savory flavor seeped right into the bones, and anyone who had tasted it would give it a thumbs-up.

In Room 1, East Wing, on the second floor, the table was laden with abalone, sea cucumber, shark fin, and fish maw at market price. The waiters coming and going hardly dared to breathe. And why not? Just look at the attendants standing inside—headed by Mr. Foster, each one was a person of influence in this area, not to mention their masters.

William Sullivan was leaving the capital tomorrow, so Charles Bennett and a group of yellow-banded friends who were close to him held a farewell banquet. If it were up to Charles Bennett, he would have invited the Sanqing Troupe for three days of lively opera, but William Sullivan preferred everything simple. The yellow-banded group followed William Sullivan’s lead and had to suppress their urge for revelry.

But William Sullivan really had no choice sitting with them. Just look at their style—Charles Bennett was actually the best, at least the companion by his side was his favorite courtesan Hehua from the Yanchun Troupe, a seductive woman, but at least a woman.

Then look at Mr. Parker from the Seventh Uncle’s branch and Richard Lee, the seventh son of Prince Rui—each had a “rabbit boy” sitting beside him. Though their faces were delicate and charming, their affected flirtatiousness gave William Sullivan goosebumps.

Peter Parker was the oldest among them, but also the most frivolous. Teasing the performers, he raised his glass with a laugh: “Peter Parker toasts the young prince! My great-grandfather said, our Lower Five Banners have finally produced a clan member who can share the Emperor’s burdens. Let’s see who dares gossip behind our backs now.” Prince Zheng had only one son, so most people flattered William Sullivan to his face as “young prince.”

William Sullivan quickly raised his glass and drank, saying, “Thank you, Third Brother.”

Richard Lee, though a son of Prince Rui, had three older brothers above him and was not favored by his father. Born with a speech impediment, he had no hope of inheriting the title. He spent his days idling in the pleasure houses, his health long since ruined—he looked as if a gust of wind could blow him over. Swaying as he stood, he stammered, “B-brother, Richard Lee also toasts you. W-wish you great success.” He probably didn’t even know where William Sullivan was going or what mission he was on, but his well-wishes were heartfelt, because although he was slow-witted, he knew that the young master of Prince Zheng’s household was the kindest to him.