Part 1: Fearless
1
Chinatown, San Francisco 1876
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Sun Ling snaked her fingers through the mare’s mane, relishing the unexpected gift of calmness the creature brought her. In her nearly thirty years on earth, she’d never interacted with animals, so no one was more surprised than she when, within days of ownership, she felt a deep affection for the horse that loyally and unwaveringly remained at her side, despite the frequent bouts of danger they’d already faced together.
“Ānjìng, Dulin,” she whispered, telling the mare to be quiet. They waited on the opposite side of the street, under a grove of trees. Not completely invisible but at least somewhat camouflaged. After more than seven years of living in the city by the bay, she knew what troubles could befall a woman caught out alone at night, especially now while everyone was so frightened of the smallpox sweeping through the state. But Sun Ling wasn’t fearful of the disease. Her father made sure to keep her full of every tea and potion available to keep her healthy. She just hoped the smallpox couldn’t be caught by the four-legged citizens of the city.
Thus far, the mare had lived up to the name she’d been given, borrowed not only from a beloved trinket of her childhood, but also from the legendary horse that belonged to Liu Bei, a warlord and ruler of the state of Shu in an all but forgotten past dynasty. Both horses had the same tear mark under the eye and white spots on the forehead, colorations that in Chinese superstition meant the horse would obstruct its owner.
The original Dulin proved an exception. As the legend went, in Liu Bei’s greatest time of need, his horse came through, carrying him out of a deadly trap set by his enemy at a grand banquet. Sun Ling gave her horse the same name with the unspoken understanding that if she was ever a hair’s breadth from being captured, her own Dulin would carry her to safety.
The mare snorted, and Sun Ling patted her firmly, a gesture meant to tell her to have patience. Also strangely enough, Dulin seemed to understand everything Sun Ling was thinking, even without words between them.
“Good girl,” she said.
Yes, she considered Dulin well worth the trade of a bracelet she’d kept hidden for years, a reminder of her past that she was glad to be rid of. She’d slowly rid herself of most of what she’d brought to San Francisco, though the most important piece was still hidden.
A man came near, and Sun Ling pulled down the brim of her hat, hiding her eyes. The bulky jacket and shapeless trousers she wore almost swallowed her up, but the few who looked her way simply thought her a teenage boy trying to score a glimpse at the house across the lane.
They’d never dream that under the man’s costume was a woman on a mission. If everything went as planned, one less girl would be imprisoned and treated as less than human—dressed and painted, then displayed to the lecherous and lonely hordes of bachelors in the darkest recesses of Chinatown.
But first, she had to see the girl, to make sure that the part she played was truly forced upon her. Years ago when Sun Ling had first begun her adventures, she’d been astonished when more than a few times a girl had refused her help, choosing instead to stay and work, to do whatever it took for those who owned her to continue sending money to her family left behind in China.
Familial duty was hard to break, even if the duty was more than what was fair to ask, especially when it amounted to one form of slavery or another. But this case, word was the girl was barely old enough to even know what flirtation and seduction meant. If the rumors were true about the age of the Orchid Princess, as she’d been dubbed in Chinatown, then Sun Ling felt it her own responsibility to skirt the child away in the dark of the night, to protect her until she could be placed somewhere far away from the lecherous paws of those who paid for only a glimpse but wanted much more.
“Stay here, Dulin,” she said, then headed across the lane concentrating on using a manly swagger as she took her place in line, her head down and eyes on the baggy trousers of the man in front of her.
Venturing into the sordid world of slavery never failed to make Sun Ling think of her past—her own bondage to a family who’d held no affection or care for her, a household with a master at the helm who betrayed her innocence and that of her sworn sister with his inability to curb his lust. She’d been only a girl then, but her youth had been swallowed up in the belly of the dragon who’d finally forced her to run halfway across the world in search of a measure of peace.
And she hadn’t yet found it.
She continued to feel unsettled and unsatisfied, fighting a fire within her that longed to engulf everyone around her in an act of retribution for past transgressions against her.
But at least helping girls who, like her, found themselves sold into servitude that took more from them than they were willing to give—it was a way for her to feel as though her life wasn’t wasted. No doubt the title as the most sought-after dressmaker in the city was one thing she could claim, but a dress was just a dress. Her real passion was ignited by more than a needle and a bolt of expensive silk. To get her blood going, she needed to don men’s clothing and venture out into the night for an evening of danger. That wasn’t asking much, was it?
According to her baba, it definitely was. So thankful was she for the several years of getting to know him again, to be given another chance to show him she is a worthy daughter. However, his stubborn insistence that she marry an established Chinese citizen was beginning to fray the threads of their relationship.
At every Sunday lunch, Baba begged to let him set her up in marriage, repeating his longing for grandchildren. But Sun Ling could not and would not be tied to a husband and household, at least not until she felt she’d done all she could to right the wrongs done to the women in the Chinese quarter. And after all, most of the men she’d known in her life had only wanted to use her. Why would she want to become enslaved to another?
Around her, men stomped their impatience, hollering out for those inside to hurry. The line moved, and Sun Ling found herself on the front stoop, only a few more paces from actually entering.
“One ounce,” said a burly Chinese man, holding his hand out. He stood to her right but to her left was another imposing figure just like him, guards put in place to take the money and handle anyone who tried to do more than get an eyeful.
Sun Ling put the small bag into his giant paw and kept her eyes on the ground. When he moved his attention to the next patron behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She’d passed the hardest part.
It wasn’t only being thrown out that worried her. If the wrong man caught her at her charade, Sun Ling might find herself in shackles for the second time in her tumultuous life.She thought of Chin Lee, a young man in Hong Kong who was ridiculed for dressing like a woman, even though it was only for the stage. However, in San Francisco there were actual laws against a woman dressing like a man. If she was caught, she’d be severely punished. She needed to be very careful.
With time to wait, her mind wandered to the bewildering subject of men and their lusts. She would bet that many of the men in line with her were married, with wives waiting at home for their return. That scared her off of ever giving her heart to someone. It wasn’t that she didn’t someday want find her own mate, but her life was full of memories of men wanting to use or abuse her in some way.