WRITTEN IN INK

Heart of Steel

Hongkong, 1872

The opium den of Hongkong was filled with addicts. Smoke permeated and blurred the surroundings, leaving only a few inches of clear sight.

It was all strangely quiet; only once a while would a blurted or murmured word break the silence, in languages that I could not understand. It seemed that the occupants of this place were satisfied enough to immerse in their own fantasies and paid no heed to others.

Fortunately, I had a guide...