The first was to stay close. “And don’t trust anyone,” Chang-wei warned. The perils must have been real. He actually held a hand to the small of my back as we moved through the market area near the docks. “We must go to the administrative yamen,” Chang-wei said. “They’ll help me relay my message to Peking.” The streets of Shanghai swallowed us, and I was shoved against Chang-wei by the swell of the crowd. From the sheer number of shops and teahouses, Shanghai had to be unaccountably wealthy. Anything could be bought here among these lanes. The market vendors spied the insignia on Chang-wei’s uniform and immediately pressed close, holding out various trinkets. Though I had heard the city was overrun with foreigners, I found myself surrounded by my own countrymen, through their style of dress was markedly different from Hunan province or even what I recalled from Peking.
