Qiying felt as if the document in his hands it weighed a lot weighed a like a thousand bricks .
The paper was fine British letter paper, smooth and sturdy. Half of the text was written in elegant English cursive, the other half in small, precise Chinese calligraphy—clearly the work of a master.
But every sentence burned his palms like hot iron.
He read it carefully, word by word, line by line—the document personally drafted by Arthur Lionheart, Prince Consort of the British Empire. He called it "friendly" and "equal"… the Treaty of Tianjin.
Qiying was utterly shocked.
Nothing in this treaty resembled what he had imagined.
In his mind, defeat meant ceding territory, paying indemnities, opening ports. Even the Emperor had told him privately that as long as the Red-Haired Devils were kept away from the capital and no land near it was ceded, any amount of silver could be negotiated.
But the document before him… was far stranger than any of that.
He rubbed his eyes and read it again.
Article 1: The Opium Question
It stated that Her Majesty the Queen and His Royal Highness the Prince Consort expressed "high appreciation" for the Qing Emperor's determination to ban opium. From the moment of signing, the Royal Navy would help the Qing government eradicate all illicit opium trafficking by the East India Company and other smugglers.
Qiying's jaw dropped.
They attacked us over opium, and now they want to… help us ban it?
What kind of joke was this?
Arthur Lionheart watched him calmly, a faint smile on his lips.
There was no goodwill behind it—only calculation.
He had three cold, precise objectives:
Cripple the East India Company's financial lifeline.
Whitewash the official British Empire, erasing the stain of "opium traffickers."
Plant psychological leverage—make Qing officials think Britain could be a benevolent ally.
It wasn't compassion. It was strategy sharpened to a knife's edge.
Article 2: Treaty Ports
Opening Guangzhou, Xiamen, Fuzhou, Ningbo, and Shanghai was expected.
But the line that followed crushed Qiying's composure.
Tariffs would no longer be set by local officials or the Canton Thirteen Hongs—they would be jointly negotiated between Qing and British commissioners.
"Ne… negotiate tariffs?" Qiying muttered.
Why would the victor negotiate instead of simply imposing low tariffs?
He had no idea this move was far more ruthless.
Arthur Lionheart didn't want temporary advantages.
He wanted control of the rule-making process itself.
By shifting tariff authority to the central level—where Britain was strong and Qing was ignorant of modern economics—Britain could steer the entire future structure of Sino-British trade.
He wasn't helping the Qing.
He was tightening his grip on their economic throat.
Article 3: Technical Assistance and Indemnity
The treaty proposed that, considering the Qing military's outdated equipment and its "misunderstanding" with Britain, the Empire was willing to provide:
A Tianjin–Beijing railway, built by the Future Industries Group, controlled by Arthur Lionheart.
A new arsenal in the Beijing–Tianjin region to produce new-style rifles and artillery.
In return, the Qing would pay thirty million taels of silver over ten years.
And to "help" manage customs revenue and ensure timely payment, the customs collection of the five treaty ports would be jointly administered by Qing and British personnel.
Qiying felt his blood run cold.
Arthur didn't want barren land.
He wanted the market, the economic lifeblood of the empire cinese.
The railway and arsenal weren't gifts—they were anchors that would tether the Qing to British standards, British technology, British dependence.
A perfect trap disguised as friendship.
Qiying looked at Arthur Lionheart's gentle, polished smile and felt a chill deep in his soul.
Meanwhile, Arthur studied him quietly.
He felt no sympathy, no guilt—only a clear sense of strategy.
What mattered was expanding British influence, crushing rivals, and binding the Qing to Britain's orbit.
Everything else was irrelevant.
Arthur stepped closer and lightly patted Qiying's shoulder.
"Lord Qiying," he said softly, though his eyes were icy, "this is far more civilized than sending the fleet to Beijing, don't you agree?"
He smiled.
"And far more dignified than forcing you to cede valuable land… such as the delightful island of Hong Kong."
Qiying trembled.
Arthur continued in a voice as calm as polished steel:
"Consider it. No more opium draining your treasury. Access to technology. Railways and arsenals. And all for a modest entrance fee of thirty million taels."
Then, with a hint of amusement:
"And you, Lord Qiying, might even be remembered as the minister who ushered in the first spark of 'Western learning spreading Eastward.'"
"Do you really see this as a loss?"
Qiying stared at him, dazed. For a moment, in his shock, Arthur's cold logic almost sounded… reasonable.
"Your… Your Highness's intentions…" Qiying stammered, "this humble servant will faithfully report them to His Majesty."
Arthur Lionheart smiled.
He got up and walked away elegantly, thinking to himself, "It's time to prepare for the next objective, which is the one he had planned and for which he personally came to this remote corner of the world."