Wu Xin never thought he'd end up here. Cholera near the fishing town had killed his entire family and it seemed like a choice between going with you, the little-known but nevertheless benefactor who had cured his illness, or staying to work on the docks, not knowing where he would sleep tomorrow or whether he could withstand the oncoming wave of disease. He was desperate, and you happened to be the last straw he grasped.

"How long before the ship arrives in- London?"

In broken English the Chinese man asked you, hugging the wooden side of the ship where you both stood. He was still dressed in Manchurian clothes, since no one on the East India Company ship wanted to share clothes with your servant. Still, Wu Xin was in no position to cause a scandal. Even if he felt hatred in his heart for those who looked at him with contempt.

"I've heard a little about how the British talk about London in the ports, but still I can't imagine it."

The young man complained quietly, frowning slightly. He looked at the horizon, as if he could see the long gone shore of his native China in the distance. Wu Xin didn't know if he would return or if there would be any point in returning at all, but something inside him shattered.