Waking up as she did was pleasant enough at first; the return of sensation, and a warm meal, but it came with a distinctly unpleasant aftertaste. Before she slept for 99 years, if these meticulous records were to be believed, she had been valued more for what she was not than for who she was. it seemed only the march of years towards an inevitable dependency on the blood of other kindred had made her faithful service grow suspect. But she had changed, it seemed, as the century of sleep whispered desires in her ears. Her fever dreams told her that her kowtowing had been mocked. It was all for not, certainly, if she had to sit in a vault in the ground for so long. Everyone else could run in the sun as they pleased, or lord over the shadows, except for her. She was but a piece of furniture no one wanted to use any more, and it would be that way forever.

When she awoke on this side of forever, she wanted more. She wanted justice for every wrong she had suffered, but those who had done such deeds were dust. Instead, she saw echoes of her own suffering all around her. Instead of her own humiliation, she saw every woman, no, her whole nation, humiliated. The fires of anger smoldered inside her, the flames of desire, and this was the only fire she dare to be near.

She she poured over books, hers and those of others, hoping to straight out the ancient lessons in her mind. People were stupid, not to be trusted, and it was vital to keep them safely in their places. A terrible leader is none at all; it is not merely right, but dutiful, to correct those criminals who would masquerade as leaders. Discontent dripped to the ground of Beijing more than much needed rain. And such raging crowds needed to be guided for optimal effect. Perhaps they just needed to mind their Elders.

Not many wake from sleeps beyond the length of an ordinary lifetime. Awakening with the taste of chicken's blood, myriad dreams and nightmares were banished by her focus returning to the singular misery of a cellar. They'd been instructed to fill the place with chickens, of course - best not to unleash an immediate string of murders. No, several birds wandered the room ignorant of their impending sacrifice, and the lone attendant knew to flee as soon as she began to stir. The sound of the last bird dying was her signal to return.

"Teacher Chiang, you are awake. We've prepared some texts for you to peruse before laboring you with asking countless questions. The last of the day's light just faded a short while ago."

Thoughts raced as she contemplated reality and her century of nightmares. They fell. The city was taken within a decade of her last mortal breath. And falling right back into her old habit, she simply nodded, pouring over every document in the room until the sun's impending return demanded a break.

The Qing were idiots. It was the only explanation. How else could distant islands of silly looking people bring them to their knees?

She shook. She shook a hell of a lot more than someone her age should. Somehow the least enlightened of ways always seemed to win out. It was actually with tears that she'd discovered she would not be mutilated as a child. Now, of course, she was thankful to have been deemed the ugly daughter. She would go about her business so much easier with the ability to adopt a normal gait. She walked like a field girl, but if these journals were serving as a proper aid to her memories, wealth had been merely misery. Better an educated servant, held to the shadows, than a piece of the room's decor.

Of course, that oversimplified matters. Knowing she'd be his slave instead of going off elsewhere certainly impacted the father-daughter relationship in an unusual manner. Was it worse or better that she had probably actually seen what his love looked like?

Rumors of unrest drew her attention away from lost family. They'd never really loved her, or she would not be here, now. But all this talk of new foreigners made her fiendishly curious what the Englishmen tasted like.