“Communists who threaten the fabric of society,” her mother replied, her tone grave. “White Flowers who have been trying to snuff us out for generations. You wish for their lives to be saved?”
When Juliette turned away, unable to speak past the sour twist in her throat, her mother’s gaze followed. There was little Lady Cai ever missed. Little that went past her appraisal and emerged untouched. Juliette knew this, and yet still she was surprised as her mother snagged her wrist. Juliette’s fingers splayed out against the overhead light. The yarn on her finger glowed white.
“They say you were found with Roma Montagov.” Her mother’s grip tightened. “Again, I ask, do you care to explain yourself?”
Juliette’s eyes went to her father, who had yet to say anything. His composure was placid; Juliette felt turned inside out. While he stood there, occupying a space in her room, Juliette could sense everything: her own inhale-exhale of breath, the electricity droning overhead, the static murmur of conversation outside the door.
Her heart, thrumming just beneath her rib cage.
“I have loved him so long that I do not remember him as a stranger,” Juliette answered. “I loved him long before we were told to work together in spite of the hate between our families. I will love him long after you tear us apart merely because you pick and choose when it is convenient to partake in the blood feud.”
Her mother released her wrist. Lady Cai thinned her lips, but there was otherwise no surprise. Why would there be? It was not difficult to guess why else Juliette would be running away with him.
“We listened to the modern age and never thought to control what you do,” Lord Cai said then, finally choosing to speak. His words were a low rumble that gave everything in the room a telltale tremor. “I see that it was our mistake.”
Juliette choked out a laugh. “Do you think any of this could have turned out better if you had kept me trapped in the house? Do you think I would have never learned defiance if you had kept me in Shanghai all these years, educated only by Chinese scholars and their ancient teachings?” Juliette slammed her hand against her vanity table, swiping all her brushes and her powders to the floor, but it wasn’t enough—nothing was enough. Her words were so bitter in her mouth that she could taste them. “I would have ended up the same. We are all held up on the city’s strings, and perhaps you should first ask why we have a blood feud before asking why I defied it!”
“Enough,” Lord Cai boomed.
“No!” Juliette screamed back. Her heart was pounding. If she had been in hyperawareness of the room before, now she could hear nothing except her raging, violent pulse. “Do you hear what the people are saying? This execution of Communists and White Flowers—they are calling it the White Terror, a terror, as if it is merely another madness that cannot be helped! It can be helped! We could stop it!”
Juliette took a deep breath, forcing herself to lower her volume. The more she yelled, the more her parents narrowed their eyes, and she feared that one more outburst from her would have them choose to stop listening. This wasn’t over. She still had a chance to convince them otherwise.
“Both of you have always said that power lies with the people,” Juliette tried, keeping her tone steady. “That the Scarlet Gang would have fallen apart if Bàba had not made membership a badge of pride with ordinary civilians. Now we let them die? Now we let the Nationalists slaughter whoever is suspected of unionizing? The blood feud was about fairness. About power and loyalty splitting the city. We were equals—”
“You wish to say,” Lord Cai interrupted coldly, “that you would rather we return to a time when the White Flowers blew up our household?”
Juliette staggered back. Her chest squeezed and squeezed until she was sure there was no oxygen left in her lungs.
“That is not what I mean.” She hardly knew what she meant. All she knew was that none of this was right. “But we are above massacre. We are above a kill order.”
Her father had turned away, but her mother’s gaze remained. “What have I tried to teach you?” Lady Cai whispered. “Do you remember not? Power lies with the people, but loyalty is a fickle, ever-changing thing.”
Juliette swallowed hard. So this was the Scarlet Gang. They had said yes when the foreigners demanded an alliance, choosing capital over pride. They had said yes when the politicians demanded an alliance, choosing survival over all else. Who cared about values when the history books were being written? What did it matter if the history books rewrote everything in the end?