In spite of all the mischief that Tak-Wing got up to, Cheung still looked forward to seeing him. It was impossible not to adore the young man, who was congenitally happy and full of stories. It wasn’t fair to Tak-Tam, who was more thoughtful, but who worried so much it gave him boils. Tak-Tam’s company tended to make a fellow feel a bit depressed, while Tak-Wing’s lifted the spirits. If all Chinese people were like Tak-Wing, perhaps they could find their way in the world, slough off the British humiliation and all other external threats too. Cheung thought a lot about politics, but he wasn’t sure what to want, so he mostly kept his thoughts to himself. Really all he wanted was for his family to prosper in peace.

The wind picked up a little, and Lee pulled the awning down to shelter them. “Did you hear about the Japanese going in to Beiping this morning, Brother? Chiang is going to have to fight them now.”

“I wish he’d put down the Communists before it is too late.”

“Don’t be a fool, Ah Cheung Goh. Mao Tse-Tung is a kinder and more principled leader, and it’s only together they stand a chance of driving out the Japanese scourge. Also, Mao doesn’t use Triads to do his dirty work.”

Cheung scowled. Why did Lee talk about Triads as though they were a bad thing, when there were Triad members in Lee’s own family? It would be rude to ask this question, though, so Cheung didn’t. Instead he said, “The Triads are only the inheritors of past dynasties, unjustly displaced. None of us—Tanka, Hakka, or Punti—had any real love for the Qing. Arguably, in ending the Qing, we all became Triad people.”

“The world is changing too fast, Brother,” said Lee. “But the future belongs to the people. Good, upright people with kind hearts and strong backs. No more banditry.”

Cheung knew for a fact that Lee himself had been involved in the smuggling of kerosene and medical supplies from British Hong Kong to mainland China to support the kind and upright Communist efforts there. He suspected, too, that Lee smuggled arms, but didn’t know for sure. Wasn’t that still banditry? He didn’t broach it, but his scowl deepened.

As if reading his mind, Lee said, “I mean no more slaughter. No more rape.”

“Sure,” said Cheung, sensing that his friend actually wanted to speak of the usually unspoken. “But how are you going to prevent that if you are running British guns over the Chinese border?”