Crossing over to Shanghai, the Chinese architecture was immediately apparent. Arches, pagodas, Chinese characters on the walls - it was apparent I was no longer in the familiar environs of Steelhead.
The Chinese immigrants were also used to doing the dangerous work. A rickety staircase led to a mine opening. Whatever was coming out of the mountain was not coming easily, and I could imagine that the Chinese worked cheaply, and did not object too much when a life was lost.
Though I could see the occasional mansion, doubtless owned by a wealthy person seeking more land than he or she could afford in the older parts of Steelhead, many of the residences were built as cheaply as possible. [OOC note: this is not meant as an insult. Just the opposite, in fact. Immigrant housing looks like immigrant housing.]
The Chinese-style tower is where the money went; the building looms over the shantytowns and even the mansions, a constant reminder of the Oriental presence.
Inside, I sat and contemplated the paintings. [The building houses the sales office for Shanghai, with a mechanism to reserve a lot.]
I spotted some very strange steam vessels in the harbor.