Drinking green tea, and smoking a pipe that smelled like burning flowers, was a small Chinese in a black mandarin skullcap and a black silk shirt decorated with embroidered birds. ‘Collis, this is Mr Yee,’ said Dan McReady. ‘Mr Yee, this is Mr Collis Edmonds, of the Sierra Pacific Railroad Company.’

The Chinaman indicated that Dan and Collis should sit down. ‘I am very honoured to meet you,’ he said. ‘I have read about you last year in the Golden Hills News.’

‘I guess they mentioned Wang-Pu,’ said Collis.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Yee. ‘There are many Chinese in San Francisco who mourned for Wang-Pu.’

Miss Dear came in with a fresh pot of tea, and more cups. ‘Have you eaten yet?’ Mr Yee asked. ‘The specialty here is wind-dried duck. I can recommend it. The red-cooked pork with squid is also good.’

‘The tea will do fine, thanks,’ said Collis.

They sat for a while sipping the scalding tea, and then Mr Yee put down his cup. ‘You were a friend of Wang-Pu’s, Mr Edmonds.’ It wasn’t a question.

Collis nodded.

‘Wang-Pu talked about you often. He said that the future of the Chinese people in San Francisco was in your breath. That is a Chinese expression which means that your life is tied up with their fate.’

‘I’m flattered,’ said Collis.

‘You have no need to be,’ replied Mr Yee. ‘None of us chooses the path he treads.’

‘I believe in destiny,’ Collis told him, ‘but I’m not a fatalist. I could pack my bags now and go back to Sacramento, and spend the rest of my life being a middling-to-average hardware dealer.’

Mr Yee shook his head and smiled. ‘You could no more do that than I could. What you have to do has been written in your future for centuries past, and it will be written as your history in centuries yet to come.’

‘Perhaps.’

Dan McReady took out a red rag and blew his nose. ‘What Mr Edmonds really wants to talk about is labour, Mr Yee. Chinese workers to build his railroad for him.’

Mr Yee poured out more tea and looked down at the leaves as they settled in the cup. ‘I know that, Mr McReady. We have already discussed it among the members of my tong.’

Collis said nothing. He had learned from Wang-Pu that a respectful silence is considered a thousand times more valuable than even the most worshipful words.

‘Whenever you want labour, Mr Edmonds, we can supply it,’ Mr Yee said. ‘Hundreds, if you need them, or thousands. They come in from China every week, and we can organise them for you. All you have to do is say the word.’

‘What will you want in return?’ asked Collis.

Mr Yee raised his hand. ‘Nothing. What you are planning to do is just as much our destiny as yours. We do not expect to be paid for fulfilling our future.’