This is my second attempt at writing a story- I hope you like it. Since its a little long, I broke the story into 3 parts. - all three parts have been posted below. In case you read it, do let me know what you think of it and where I could have made improvements. Thank you for your time in reading this long 'short story'.:
The room itself was not big; it was a comfortable room with carpeted flooring. The soft Persian carpet reached across all the corners of the room. Soft, full and intricately designed, it had a ten thousand stitch pattern across every metre; everyone who entered the room would have instantly recognised its richness and value. Veins of red ran through the torquoise blue, weaving itself around the leaves and flowers which were in a deep green and red making them look like real rose buds fallen on the floor.
The room itself was tastefully decorated, each piece of furniture was at just the right place and each article in the room had been thought of before being made for the room. An old chest made of dark oak occupied the far end of the room, its hinges and handles made of hard wrought iron; giving it a time seasoned yet trustworthy feel. The small mirror that hung just above it stood almost all by itself in the air. Only if observed carefully could one see the silk wires holding up the oval glass giving it a look of delicateness yet knowing that it would never break. The darkness of the drawers in a strange way complimented this fragile magic of reflection giving a certain balance to the whole room and everything that stood inside it.
Beside it rose a sturdy bookshelf, built into the room from floor to ceiling. Wei had cured and build the three sets of slides racks himself, measuring each board to accommodate every size of book which had been written or published. From ancient history to modern science, Sima Qian & Confucius sat beside Aristotle, Rousseau & Jonathan Swift; Su Shi read pro’s to the approval of Pope while Kepler & Copernicus discussed science and the astronomy with Aryabhata and Shi Shen. Calligraphed writing on papyrus lay side by side with Caxtons block printed paper and the top shelf was reserved for scrolls and manuscripts which dated back to the Tang Dynasty.
On the opposite side of the wall lay a small pile of firewood next to suitably sized fireplace. A warm glow came out of the fireplace, allowing each corner of the room to receive some warmth without making it feel hot. Beside the fire sat a middle aged man, dressed in white cotton nightware with a dark rich red robe loosely tied around. The man sat quietly, listening to the crackling wood, pushing embers that popped out of the fireplace back into the fire. You could see the reflection of the small fire on his glasses and he stared away at the burning wood lost deep in thought. A broad forehead, with deep lines; intelligent eyes looking far into the distance, a small moustache in line with style carried by the affluent traders of the time; Wei Long sat erect but comforatbly in the chair he had fashioned out of his own hands. He had walked into Shanghai 30 years ago as an orphan with 2 RMB and the tatters he wore. He had fashioned a pendant out of the pearl which belonged to his mother, that pearl had at one time been on a string adjoined with 107 others; a gift of love from his father. Holding the pendant between his fingers, Wei was so lost in the memories of his parents and younger brother that he didn’t hear the first gentle knock on the door.
It had to be Huo Qiubing, his counsellor and trusted advisor whom he had summouned for supper. Wei had met Huo more than a decade ago, when he was struggling to get the nuances of the spice trade. Huo had been deep in debt after his ships had sunk in a storm leaving him with creditors who were getting angrier by the day. Wei had paid of Huo’s debts, saving him and his family and taking him into his fold.
Wei noticed early that Huo had the knowledge of the markets and traders but knew nothing of spices. Slowly the team built up Mei Li Spices to become the biggest traders in South and East China. With a fleet comprising of over 50 junk ships ferrying spices to Japan, the British & French provinces; Wei had built an empire in just over a decade and ran it with an efficiency that brought recognition even from the Emperor. Wei had learnt art and science from his father who had been one of the ship architects in the Emperors ship yards. As a boy, his enquiring mind had been encouraged by his father to learn as much as he could, buying books which were far from their reach at that time but making sure that Wei was kept busy.
His mother had been the daughter of a rich landlord, the eldest of 4 sisters; she had been looked down as a burden to the family. Daughters were valued for their prettiness, their blemishless skin and for their knowledge of the arts. While his mother had learnt and was better than all her sisters in the various arts, a large dark birthmark ran across her forehead had made sure that she was kept indoors at all times, away from everyones eyes. She wasn’t sent to school nor allowed to play with the other children; she was considered bad luck for the family and was kept as a secret. During her childhood, she immersed herself in art and science; she learnt new languages and ancient history. She learnt music, dance and mastered several perforaming arts; growing up knowing more than her 3 sisters and 2 brothers would knew together. Wei remembered his mother well and the love story of his mother and his father who was nothing more than an employee of her fathers. He had been working late one night in the dockyard and seen a stranger stealthly moving about studying the design of the ship. Thinking her to be a saboteur, he had confronted her only to find that the landlord had not 3 but 4 daughters.
Over the next few weeks he met with her at night and soon fell in love with her. They discussed ship architecture, she showed him better designs; they discussed ancient history which he thought himself an expert till he met her. After about a years time, he had approached her father pensively for her hand in marriage and to his surprise, her father was happy to be rid of her under the condition that she never be associated to his family name ever again. One rainy night, they had gotten married and Wei had been born in the second year of their marriage. He remembered his father lovingly talking to his mother calling the birthmark his lucky charm without which he wouldn’t have been able to marry her or even seen her.
Coming back from his trance, he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the long passagway slowly heading towards the family guest room where Huo would be waiting. Huo always made him think of his parents, he had become almost like an elder brother to Wei. They had been through everything together, struggling as two novices against the spice barons, working sleepless nights carrying sacks on their backs because they didn’t have enough money to hire enough labour. They had even scrubbed the deck together on their first ship together; those had been reckless and adventurous times. Huo had approached Lin’s father for his daughters hand for Wei, he was there when Li had been born. He had rejoiced as though his own son had been born.
The last 3 weeks had been busy for Mei Li Spices; Wei had set up an audit structure which took up a whole month every year. About eigth years ago, James Anderson, the chief financial consultant had tried to make his own fortune out of Mei Li which resulted in the deaths of 12 employees and the loss of Lin and Li. Lin had carried little Li for a walk along the cherry orchard behind the warehouse which had been made into the work spaces for Mei Li Spices. She had walked straight into Anderson and a rival traders meeting. On being seen, Anderson had panicked and shot at her; the round metal ball had gone through the delicate little Li taking his life instantly and then buried itself deep inside Lin’s chest. She had survived for a week, deep in pain as the region aound the metal ball turned from flesh to poison. In the end, she had died in Wei’s arms, crying out for little Li. While Wei had been with his dying wife, Anderson had tried to wrest control of the warehouses and ships. Huo and three dozen loyal workers had in the death of night gone into the main warehouse where Anderson had built his stronghold and clubbed their way through to Anderson. Not wanting to be tortured by Wei’s men or be held in a Chinese jail, Anderson had taken the barrel of his gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger just as Huo had made his way into the main office. Wei was lost in his own world for six months, the grief and sorrow ate into him every second, and he would wake up in the middle of the night and go to Li’s room wanting to see his little son sleeping. Every evening he went along the path through the Cherry orchard where Lin had been shot. Huo had been there, taking care of the business and supporting Wei through the ordeal.
Six months later, Wei walked into the main office warehouse and resumed work as though nothing had happened. He worked from dawn into the middle of the night going through all the details, he read through hundreds of reports, analysed the spice trade and markets in South China, picked on every number in the books; he made sure he had complete knowledge of what was happening in his organisation. Huo had many times walked into work the next morning, only to find Wei still going through documents or asleep on his chair. Within four months, the company had already increased its profits by 40%; Wei’s command over the spices, the ships and the trade allowed no room for mishaps. Within two years, the company had grown three times over and made its mark with the English and the Dutch trading outposts.
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