The message from Beijing arrived three days later.
The courier reached Canton before sunrise.
By mid-morning, the Viceroy of Liangguang had already summoned the French envoy to the same customs office near the harbor where they had spoken nearly a month earlier.
Outside the building, the port of Canton continued its usual rhythm.
Dockworkers carried cargo between warehouses. Small merchant vessels drifted slowly along the river. Fishermen shouted across the water as they guided their narrow boats between anchored ships.
But farther out in the Pearl River, the silhouettes of the French warships remained unchanged.
Their tall masts rose above the morning haze, and the dark hull of the flagship stood apart from the rest like a floating fortress.
Inside the customs office, the atmosphere was far quieter.
Villeneuve sat at the same wooden table as before.
Across from him sat the Viceroy.
