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“Dianxia?”
Jin held on to his bright smile as he turned his attention to the owner of the plant, who was watching him with questions in her eyes. Ms. Zhang Shi Yun had built her business up from a small pastry shop that her grandparents had started when they were newly married. Through hard work, determination, and a solid education, she’d expanded the business so that this manufacturing plant was creating two hundred new jobs within Jin.
“Forgive me,” he said with a small nod of his head. “I guess I’m overwhelmed by this place. It is beautiful. I believe you were saying that you have orders for outside of Gaoxing.”
She brightened immediately. She was almost bouncing on the balls of her feet in her heels. “We have a stack of orders from shops in Tokyo, Kyoto, Beijing, Shanghai, Taipei, and even Seoul. We’re in talks with a few vendors in the United States. The goal is to have relationships solidified in time for the Mid-Autumn Festival next year.”
Of course, for the moon cakes. Gaoxing had adopted China’s Mid-Autumn Festival centuries ago and, along with it, a love for moon cakes. Over the years, Gaoxing had changed the cakes to make them more of their own, and Jin was proud to see that much of Asia had developed a taste for them.
“That is wonderful to hear. I know your family’s moon cakes are a regular staple within the palace, and we look forward to continuing that tradition.”
“Thank you, Dianxia. Thank you. My family is honored,” she replied, bowing several times.
They continued through the shiny facility, past neatly lined-up workers in pristine white uniforms. After the tour, Ms. Zhang directed Jin to a large lever with a red handle. Smiling for the cameras, he announced the manufacturing plant open and pulled the switch. With a whoosh and clang, the machines came to life. The conveyor belt moved and little cakes and tarts started appearing.
The smile on his lips became less frozen and more real as he watched his people working. What they were creating would trickle down to countless homes throughout Gaoxing and then across the globe. He was proud of his people and their heritage, proud of how they wanted to share themselves with the world.
“Welp, this sucks. Now I’m hungry,” Alexei muttered and Jin had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
“I’ll buy you some cakes and noodles after we get the crown prince safely in the palace,” Soren promised over the earpiece.
“I want some too,” Max chimed in.
“Shut up. This isn’t a lunchroom. Focus.” Jin’s smile slipped, and he shivered at the sharp cool voice that cut across the communication devices. He’d not met the man yet, but over the past several days, he recognized the chilled tones of Alexei’s uncle Gabriel. Just the man’s voice alone was frightening, but Jin hadn’t missed how West had seemed to relax when he heard his voice on the earpieces for the first time.
Ms. Zhang motioned, and he followed her from the lever to a small platform that had been set up outside the manufacturing plant where he would address the gathered press and anyone else who had come to see the crown prince speak. His heart lurched as he caught sight of the crowd that appeared to number close to five hundred. This was five times what he’d been expecting to see today. And out there among them were assassins just waiting to cut him down.
As he started to climb the stairs, West moved closer, pinching the sleeve of his wool coat to hold him in place. His head bent low, West whispered into his ear, “Ignore the chatter from the guys. You just be wonderful, like always. I’ve got your back.”
Jin’s smile widened, and he tilted his head enough to press his temple against West’s before they separated. He crossed to the microphone after Zhang Shi Yun finished her introduction. In the background, he could hear an increase in the chatter from the mercenaries as they moved in to take out the assassins they’d identified, but Jin blocked it out. He trusted West. He trusted West’s friends. They would keep him safe as well as the people of Gaoxing.
He’d pared down the speech he’d forced poor West to listen to a few too many times, to a slim five minutes. In it, he expressed pride in his people, excitement at this new opportunity, concern for the financial future of the kingdom, a reminder of how they’d already triumphed through many adversities, and closed on how they were looking at a fresh step forward that would help to carry them from their dark hour. He hoped it helped his people breathe a little easier, but he wouldn’t know until he watched the news reports later in the day.
