Title: Falseness

Characters: England, China, Hong Kong.

Rating: PG

Summary: 1816 – England's second attempt at establishing an embassy in China.

Notes: If at first you don't succeed, try again! Actually, it would have been better if England hadn't tried again, but we all know how stubborn he is. Ahem. My internet was down, so I couldn't do homework. Haha, that's my excuse for writing this tragedy. Also, I'm pretty sure the next chapter will be the start of the First Opium War. My heart is already hurting. I'm not sure when I'll write it though. I never know when my internet is going to die. =3=

Thanks again for the reviews, likes, and subscriptions! And thank you to my dear China for helping me with the Chinese! :3

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Sunshine flooded into the room. Bright colours adorned the walls and the bed. Hot tea steamed in two teacups. Bird happily sang outside. The mood should have been one of happiness; instead, the pleasant scenery was a sharp contrast to the two nations who sat at the table. They were anything but lively or cheerful, but each had his reason.

England sat on one chair. His legs were crossed, and an elbow rested on the table. He wore an unhappy expression and barely touched his tea. In fact, he couldn't touch it; tea, his source of pleasure, was also his source of misery. The damned drink had caused him more pain than delight. He wasn't even sure why he still yearned for it. Yet his resentment had not stopped him from trying to save face. Once again, the proud Englishman had thought his people would be seen as equals in China's court. How terribly wrong he was! Now, he could only glare at the tea, the cause of his discontent.

China sat in front of the brooding blond. He was, as always, the perfect picture of pride and honour. His back was straight, and his hands gently held the teacup against his lips. Gold eyes gingerly watched the younger nation. He knew exactly what England was thinking, had seen that look on his face before, so there was no surprise when England's angry eyes finally met his.

"Are you really leaving tomorrow?"

"There is no reason for me to stay in China, is there?"

A soft laugh, "So you came all this way for nothing?" China had better things to do than sit around and entertain other nations.

"It seems that way, doesn't it?" England shifted in his seat and sat up straight. He casually rested his forearms on the table and linked his fingers together, green eyes shinning in the light. They were the eyes of a powerful nation, a proud man, one that wasn't playing games. "Tell me, do you treat everyone this way, or am I the only nation subjected to these ridiculous games?"

Not again. "It is your official who does not want to kowtow, Arthur."

Ah, there is was. His name rolled off China's tongue with such delicacy. England could feel his stomach tighten, and he caught himself staring at China's lips. "We've done this before," he began, finally picking up his teacup and taking a sip of the vile drink. "We should be past this pettiness."

China set down his cup and frowned. Yes, they had done the same exact thing before. China remembered it clearly. He also remembered the England from that time—proper, sincere, apologetic. The man had even brought China a small gift. But this time, there were no gifts or fancy words. There were no apologies or earnest stares. All China could see was fury, arrogance, greed.

"Enough chatter, Arthur. You are here for money, but you will not get any more. You will, however, stop the import of opium."

A chuckle. "Is that a request or a demand? Surely we can negotiate these thi—"

China slammed his fists on the table, gold eyes angrily glaring at England. But it wasn't the real England. It was someone else. An impostor. A trickster. The nation who so kindly held him and whispered amorous promises was not the same man as the one who sat before him now. "There will be no negotiations. Opium is illegal."

England swallowed the lump in his throat. He had more than expected an outburst from the other nation—probably even desired it—but it was the first time he took note of just how tired China appeared. China's youthful face couldn't hide the weary, exhausted gaze. Those gold eyes—once beautiful and brimming with emotion—were tired, worn. What England wouldn't pay to cup those cheeks and press his lips against China's eyelids!

"I cannot do anything without some kind of trade, Yao. You, of all people, should know better than that."

"Húndàn." Bastard.

China had had enough. He stood, chair falling to the floor, and grabbed England by the collar. He pulled until the other man was standing, the table caught between them. "How dare you ridicule me, Arthur?"

England smirked. His head was spinning. It was getting harder to breathe. "I've done nothing of the so—"

"Liar," China spat. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened, but the words faltered when he felt a gentle tug at his waist.

"Gē gē, nǐmen liǎng gè zài chǎojià ma?"Gē gē, are the two of you fighting? Hong Kong worriedly eyed the men and pouted. His next move was to grab England's coat, but before he could reach it, he was swooped into China's arms and taken to the opposite side of the room.

"We are not fighting. We were having a little disagreement, but it is okay now." Yao cheerfully smiled and ran his fingers through Hong Kong's long, messy hair, attempting to reassure the boy.

Hong Kong didn't have a reason to distrust China; he simply nodded and shyly looked at England.

"What Yao says is true," England added. His Chinese wasn't perfect, but he had gotten somewhat better during the years, and he had enough common sense to read the situation. That didn't mean he would answer in Chinese though. "We were having a little quarrel, nothing more." He stepped forward and lightly patted the boy's head. Then, almost excitedly, he walked to his luggage.

"I almost forgot. I made something for you." England dug through his bag until his fingers wrapped around a wooden toy. He smiled. It was genuine and caring, and it made China hate him more. The smile seemed to only grow as he handed a small train to Hong Kong. "It's a locomotive. They're bigger in real life," he explained, waiting for Hong Kong's reaction to the toy. "They've become quite popular in Britain."

The boy curiously eyed the toy and smiled a second later. He didn't care for specifics. His only interests were the shiny layer of paint and the fact that he now had a new toy to throw at his siblings. "Thank you, Arthur," he mumbled, blushing happily and wiggling out of China's arms.

China would have told England that Hong Kong didn't need toys from Britain, but the boy genuinely liked it. His enthusiasm was more than apparent. With a soft sigh, China patted Hong Kong's head, "Dì dì, go play. I will come find you later."

Hong Kong eyed both adults, but he didn't leave; instead, he shyly motioned for England to bend down.

It was an odd request, but England lowered himself to Hong Kong's level. The soft words shattered his world. "You promised, Arthur."

Without another word, Hong Kong sprinted out the room, swinging the toy in the air.

The silence stretched. England stood. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at China. You promised, Arthur. To think, three words from a child had left him, the most powerful nation in the world, speechless. He had promised. What a pathetic man he had become.

China waited until Hong Kong's footsteps faded entirely before turning to face the other nation. He didn't hear what Hong Kong said, but he knew, and his entire being hurt. He felt betrayed and angry and tired. He wanted to hate England. He wanted to scream at him. He wanted to kick him out of his country and never see him again. He wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the same pain China had felt.

He wanted to see the old England again. The one with the silly smile who brought strange gifts and uttered odd promises. The one who would gently kiss him and take away his breath.

He took a step closer, eyes entranced by the floor. "Arthur … please, stop the opium trade."

There was a hint of defeat in China's words, and that was enough to make England's heart shatter. He reminded himself to breathe, reminded himself that he was the strongest nation and that he should not be crumbling, not be on the verge of taking China in his arms and asking—begging—for forgiveness. He lifted his hand and gently touched China's cheek. When he met no resistance, England leaned down and kissed him. It was an apologetic kiss, but England was not apologising for what had already occurred. No; this kiss was a warning laced with regret and adoration, for England knew the next time they met, he would have to swallow his feelings and destroy his precious Yao.

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* During the first two decades of the nineteenth century, opium addiction in China grew slowly. The East India Company kept the price high, which meant that only upper classes could afford it. Plus, the East India Company didn't want to antagonize the Chinese government (opium was still illegal!); keeping the price high and importing only five thousand chests neatly balanced trade between England and China without bankrupting the Chinese treasury or angering the government further.

* Life is all about money, kids. It's a sad truth. I won't get into specifics (mostly because I'm not an economy major and numbers make my brain cry), but sometime around 1810-15, opium flooded into China. The trade, however, remained at Canton, but the British wanted more ports open to its merchants. That's why in 1816, there was another embassy.

* Lord Amherst travelled to China in 1816. He encountered a China that was completely different from the China Lord Macartney encountered. Emperor Qianlong had retired, and his fifth son and successor, Jiaqing, ruled. During this time, uprisings and revolts were a common thing, and pirates controlled the coast of China. Sadly, China was somewhat of a wreck.

Travelling with Lord Amherst was Sir George Staunton. Remember him? He was the boy who spoke Chinese to the emperor during the first embassy. He was familiar with the Chinese language and culture, so he knew all about the kowtow and what it meant. He advised Lord Amherst not to perform the kowtow since that would establish him as a tribute bearer. Amherst's other advisers told him to kowtow, but Amherst expected equality between the two nations, so he listened to Staunton's advice. Amherst was rightfully proud though. England was, at this time, the world's greatest superpower. Remember, the country had just defeated Napoleon!

* Random bit of information is random. Apparently, mandarin courtiers thought up a plan that they hoped would satisfy both parties. They tried to have Amherst kowtow to the Emperor's empty chair. Amherst agreed to bow and genuflect, but he refused to put his face on the floor, and there here was definitely no way he was doing that nine times. In the end, Amherst left China without even seeing the Emperor. Almost two decades would pass before England sent another official to China, and in the intervening years, relations between British merchants in China and the Chinese government would worsen.