Lin Yuchan nodded blankly, as if struck by a heavy blow, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

She knew about this operation. Back when she was a laborer at Defeng Trading in Guangzhou, she knew that Guangzhou tea merchants had guilds responsible for coordinating prices. Wang Quan sent her running errands daily to copy down “opening prices” and “closing prices,” making her sweat buckets every day.

But for bulk commodities, daily price fluctuations were usually just a few qian or fen—never had she seen such a roller coaster from “three taels to two taels.”

Could it be a sudden major exchange rate fluctuation?

The British Empire was like a steady giant beast, slumbering in the distant west. As long as Ireland didn’t gain independence, the Queen didn’t abdicate, and Napoleon didn’t cross the English Channel, the pound’s value was unlikely to fluctuate dramatically.

Lin Yuchan calculated mentally. She had already paid extra shipping costs to collect large quantities of quality cotton from Ningbo Port, and she had paid the orphanage children generously, unwilling to exploit child labor.

Originally thinking Shanghai raw cotton prices were three taels per dan, she could make a profit. If she sold at two taels per dan and deducted Zheng Guanying’s comprador commission, she’d break even.

She might as well have left the cotton in Ningbo and sold it for one tael and six qian per dan.

…No, wait. When Chang Baoluo returned from Ningbo this time, he told her that raw cotton purchase prices at Ningbo Port had somewhat recovered. After currency conversion, they had reached one tael and eight qian per dan.

This meant she had worked so hard to transport cotton from Ningbo to Shanghai, completely operating in reverse—buying high and selling low, diving headfirst into a price trough!

Lin Yuchan pulled out the French version of The Count of Monte Cristo from her bag, looking at those rows of Latin letters like hieroglyphics, trying to calm herself.

After a long while, she closed the book and silently bent down to pack up the samples.

The clerk felt sorry and helped her collect them.

Lin Yuchan thanked him and casually asked: “What’s your surname, big brother?”

The clerk blushed instead. He’d grown up doing business with men and had never seen such a delicate girl hauling cotton.

“I… my surname is Deng, I…”

“Brother Deng.” Lin Yuchan called out sweetly.

Comprador Zheng was immovable as a rock, and talking with him was futile. At least she couldn’t make enemies with his subordinates.

“Please tell Boss Zheng that I won’t sell this cotton for now.”

Clerk Deng lowered his voice: “Miss, are you thinking of finding another buyer? Let me kindly remind you—whether it’s Baoshun or other foreign trading houses, they all execute unified purchase prices. Selling to anyone gives the same price. The day before yesterday’s opening price was two taels, one qian, and five fen; yesterday was two taels and one qian; today it’s two taels. There’s no going back.”

The clerk spoke sincerely, seemingly not lying. Besides, “opening prices” were openly posted at the wharf—no need to deceive her.

“Miss, let me call our boss out now to sign a purchase order with you. If we delay further, prices will drop even more.”

Lin Yuchan bit her lip, momentarily wavering.

Should she sell quickly? Two taels per dan with ten percent commission—though unprofitable, at least she wouldn’t lose money. If tomorrow’s price dropped to one tael and eight qian, she’d truly have nowhere to cry.

The “betting agreement” still had one year and three months remaining.

She looked down and saw the Quality Assessment Manual peeking from her pocket.

The orphanage workshop had opened on schedule. The three Huang-surnamed little girls rescued from Master Hu Er had already earned their first copper coins with their own hands.

She had inspected it. The children found the machines as fresh as toys when first trying them, working with great efficiency. Cotton ginning was mindless physical work, and the orphanage had specially hired teachers to lead the children in reciting poetry and basic education while working.

Huang Yaomei’s festering foot wounds had healed. At lunchtime, she ran like the wind to grab bowls and spoons, faster than anyone.

Huang Dajiao was somewhat mentally delayed and couldn’t operate machines, so the orphanage trained her to cook, replacing an elderly kitchen worker. She often forgot to add salt, so now the orphanage dining tables, like Western families, had salt shakers for everyone to season according to taste.

Little Huang Hu, still covered in freckles, continued carefully trying to please everyone, confirming several times daily: “You won’t sell me again, will you? I’m working very hard now.”

But at least she dared to speak. Once, Sister Teresa saw her crouching in a corner, using grass to make little cats and dogs, talking to them.

Lin Yuchan thought she hadn’t invested so much upfront just to “break even.”

At least… she needed to earn meal money for these thin children, right?

She stood up and smiled at Clerk Deng.

“Let me go back and think about it. Thank you.”

“One tael and nine qian per dan.”

Lin Yuchan dragged a trunk up the stairs, saying listlessly.

“Alright, don’t think about that now. Hand up the trunk.”

At the top of the stairs, a pair of strong, capable hands took her clothing trunk, carried it up several steps, and pushed it into the room.

“A’Mei,” Su Minguan took another trunk, smiling slightly, “I have good news. Luna’s passenger service license has been approved. She’ll set sail on the first of next month…”

“One tael and nine qian per dan. I went to the wharf personally to check. Black and white on paper… Zheng Guanying didn’t lie to me…”

Lin Yuchan rambled dejectedly, struggling to lift another trunk.

Su Minguan took it, looking back at her downcast appearance—eyebrows drooping—feeling both sorry for her and amused.

“This will be my first passenger run, so I’ll naturally accompany the ship, about a month…”

“The day before yesterday, it was still two taels per dan!” She pitifully stamped her foot, pouting, “How can prices fall like floodgates opening! Zheng Guanying is just a crow’s mouth!”

Su Minguan couldn’t stand it. He jumped two steps, grabbed the railing with one hand, and with the other arm scooped under the little girl’s ribs, lifting her.

Her feet left the ground as he lifted her directly in front of himself, steadying her face.

“A’Mei.”

She let out a small startled cry, finally looking at him seriously, her face flushed red as she nodded.

Su Minguan’s emotions were unreadable as he stared at her and asked: “You said that Zheng Guanying wears a very distinctive pendant at his waist?”

Lin Yuchan nodded blankly: “A yin-yang fish peace charm. What about it?”

“Then A’Mei, what am I wearing at my waist today?”

He said this coldly, then casually covered his belt side with his hand.

Lin Yuchan: “…”

That yin-yang fish was so eye-catching—hard not to notice!

This vinegar was being poured for no reason. She thought about Su Minguan’s usual daily accessories and confidently answered: “That ‘safe travels’ little sachet that can hold flint, right?”

After speaking, she moved Su Minguan’s hand away—

Her face turned red with embarrassment. Empty.

Today, to help her move, he had already removed all the odds and ends from his belt.

Knowing she was in the wrong, she mumbled quietly: “Oh, you lost it. I’ll go buy you a new one later—don’t worry about the cost.”

Su Minguan couldn’t help but laugh, seeing her work so hard to play dumb, so he let it go.

“Come see me off when the time comes.”

Lin Yuchan then remembered his earlier mention of the “passenger service maiden voyage,” and various pieces of information finally fell into place as she said quietly: “Congratulations…  I’ll see you off. Definitely.”

After being thoroughly outmaneuvered, did she dare shake her head?

Su Minguan kept a straight face: “No sincerity. Look at me.”

She embarrassedly looked up, meeting a pair of deep black eyes with raven-like long lashes, a hint of amusement flashing in his pupils.

He gently released her, his fingertips brushing her shoulder to dust off a speck of dirt.

Her whole body felt slightly feverish. Finally putting that “one tael nine qian silver” behind her, she calculated for a moment and asked: “Departing in October—won’t it be very cold? Will the river freeze?”

Su Minguan finally heard a word of concern. Though the question was somewhat amateur, it was acceptable.

Being gloomy to this extent and still giving him a pleasant expression, he was quite satisfied.

“Don’t worry. I’m using a steamship.”

He patted her shoulder and jumped down the stairs to bring up the remaining packages.

“Put it here?”

Lin Yuchan hummed in agreement and said sweetly: “Thanks.”

Finally finished moving the last item. Su Minguan pulled a small red envelope from his sleeve and stuffed it in her hand.

“Congratulations on your move.”

Boya Hongkou was rather remote after all. For business convenience, and especially to visit the raw cotton trading wharf daily, Lin Yuchan decisively decided to move into the small Western building.

Rong Hong’s master bedroom on the third floor had the best orientation. When he moved out, he had suggested Lin Yuchan continue living there, bathing in the first rays of morning sunlight each day.

“Just leave the second-floor guest room for me,” Rong Hong had assigned, “my books and miscellaneous items—don’t touch them, just pile them there.”

Lin Yuchan wasn’t polite about it, happily thanking him.

A scholar’s former residence! That feng shui was extraordinary—would living there increase her intelligence?

Previously, she hadn’t had time to fuss with it, but now she finally made up her mind. So she picked a sunny day, paid several Yixing brothers to act as a moving company, and spent a morning huffing and puffing to clear out the third-floor bedroom, transporting her meager belongings from Hongkou.

Large furniture, book chests, bedding, and such could be moved by others. The last few packages of girl’s clothes, shoes, and personal items—Boss Su personally took time to help carry them up.

Lin Yuchan didn’t mind others handling these things, but he minded a bit.

Though the packages weren’t heavy, running up and down still worked up a sweat.

The second-floor floorboards creaked loudly as several Yixing workers organized Rong Hong’s massive book collection, speculating while sorting whether Mr. Rong had really understood all those foreign texts or was just showing off.

Su Minguan’s face showed subtle amusement as he surveyed her newly formed bedroom, offering guidance: “You’re putting the bed here? I think it would be better over there—no wind in winter.”

Lin Yuchan looked where Su Minguan indicated and felt he made sense. So she rolled up her sleeves and called to Su Minguan: “Come on, let’s move it together.”

Su Minguan looked disdainfully at her thin little white arms, completely ignoring her. He crouched slightly, exerted force, and turned the wooden bed ninety degrees.

His face showed no change in color or breathing as he unpacked her bedding while asking: “What’s going on with cotton prices? You went to the wharf personally?”

Boss Su finally cared about this matter. Lin Yuchan instantly felt aggrieved again, pouring out everything like beans from a bamboo tube: “Originally, Ningbo cotton was cheap and Shanghai prices high, so I had Manager Chang collect cotton from Ningbo. Who knew that in just ten days, Shanghai cotton prices would plummet while Ningbo cotton prices recovered—tell me, how can I be so unlucky!”

Speaking superstitiously, it was as if Heaven was watching her from behind, deliberately opposing her.

Not just her. Recently, some well-informed cotton merchants had heard about the huge price difference between Shanghai and Ningbo, made firm decisions to transport cotton stockpiled in Ningbo to Shanghai, only to be hit head-on by unprecedented low prices, completely crushing these speculators.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t sleep well these past two nights. Closing her eyes, she thought: why did she switch businesses for no reason, collecting cotton—staying safely in tea speculation would have been so much better!

The more she thought about it, the more miserable she felt. She ran to the window and pushed it open forcefully, planning to get some fresh air.

Su Minguan: “Don’t—”

Too late. Lin Yuchan cried out in alarm and pulled back her hands, both now stained with black oil.

Su Minguan laughed coldly twice: “Didn’t I tell you? This window and handle are too old. I had someone fix it and just applied oil—don’t touch it.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

She’d been so focused on complaining earlier that his words went in one ear and out the other…

She quickly ran downstairs to wash her hands.

After a moment, she ran back up with thumping steps, looking pitiful: “No water.”

This era didn’t yet have running water. Residents relied entirely on the Huangpu River, Suzhou Creek, or water carts and water boats delivering well water for purchase.

The Western building had stored water, but today when Lin Yuchan moved, Yixing’s brothers provided above-and-beyond service, conveniently giving the second and third floors a thorough cleaning like a whirlwind, using up all the water.

The next water cart visit wouldn’t be until afternoon.

Su Minguan turned around, suppressing laughter.

Seeing her helplessly holding up both hands, afraid to touch anything, like a bluffing sparrow.

Seeing her dejected appearance, the anger in his heart subsided somewhat. He no longer minded her earlier distraction, pulled out a handkerchief from his chest, and commanded: “Come here.”

She said quietly: “Just give it to me…”

“Extend your hands.”

She had to stretch out both hands. He sat while she stood.

Rarely was the little girl this obedient. Su Minguan took one of her hands and wiped each finger individually.

His handkerchief was soft and thick. Strong fingers wrapped inside pressed gently against her palm, circling through the gaps between finger joints, touching every inch of skin.

Oil covered her hands completely. Light wiping wouldn’t remove it, but using force, he couldn’t bear to. So he pushed bit by bit with the handkerchief, very seriously. One hand supported her wrist, clearly cleaning, yet the movements seemed like caresses.

This made Lin Yuchan’s face burn and her ears heat up. He still seemed unaware, dissatisfied: “Lift higher.”

Her right hand was finally eighty percent clean. Through the handkerchief, he gripped the girl’s small hand, slowly stroking once over, carefully touching to the fingertips.

“I don’t understand the cotton business,” he captured her left hand again, methodically wiping while saying, “but I’ve also noticed that wharf commodity prices often fluctuate violently. I once ordered the ship workers to record daily, hoping to find business opportunities. But later discovered it was useless. Those price changes follow no pattern—like gambling on lottery numbers, what comes up depends entirely on luck.”

Lin Yuchan’s palm felt itchy as she suppressed her whole body’s trembling, saying quietly: “There should… should still be patterns, just that the factors are quite complex. I haven’t found them yet.”

If this were modern times, collecting massive amounts of detailed data and using computers for modeling might reveal price trend patterns. But this was the Qing Dynasty—no phones or telegraphs, let alone conditions for such work.

So Chinese merchants stockpiling goods at wharves could only passively accept commodity prices. Even knowing cotton prices generally trended upward, in specific micro-transactions, merchants lost money and exited daily, some losing everything.

Su Minguan traced her nails through the handkerchief, smiling slightly: “But at least you know that Comprador Zheng wasn’t deliberately cheating you. He…”

Lin Yuchan got anxious: “Ten percent commission isn’t cheating?”

“When I worked under Jardine, they were much more ruthless than him. Don’t move around.” Su Minguan skillfully adopted comprador thinking, speaking factually: “Did he mention delayed payment? Currency conversion losses? Weighing fees? Deducting your samples? None of that? Conscientious comprador—treasure him.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

This—this was considered conscientious?!

She thought bitterly: bureaucratic comprador capitalism, one of the three mountains of old society, would all be overthrown sooner or later.

Unfortunately, revolution wasn’t an overnight affair. She still had hundreds of Dan of cotton in her warehouse. Before overthrowing the old society, she had to sell it, or everything would be stuck in her hands, and next year, Boya would have a new boss.

Thinking of this, looking at the deeply affectionate, handsome young man before her, she increasingly felt he harbored ill intentions.

She suddenly pulled back her hand, clenched her fist, and said determinedly: “I can’t let compradors lead me by the nose.”

The oil was eighty percent wiped off, but without soap and water washing, some residue remained, feeling sticky.

Su Minguan didn’t look up: “What if prices fall further?”

Lin Yuchan said hopefully, “This low price isn’t normal. What if prices go back up tomorrow?”

“Cotton gets moldy if stored too long.”

She bit her teeth and remained silent.

She remembered her school’s security guard, who somehow became obsessed with stock trading, gambling away years of savings in one go. The next day, the originally thriving stock took a downward turn, then opened the floodgates, remaining low and dismal…

The guard looked worried daily, unable to focus on work, staring at computer screens upside down, agonizing over whether to liquidate, and in daily hesitation and torment, the stock price had already fallen beyond recognition.

The guard gritted his teeth and stomped his feet, finally deciding to cut his losses. Only half his principal remained, but at least he hadn’t lost everything.

That wasn’t the end. The second week after the guard uninstalled his trading app, good news came, and the stock hit bottom and rebounded…

The guard angrily resigned and drove to Tibet.

Lin Yuchan previously didn’t understand how a simple string of numbers could make someone so invested. Now she experienced some of the guard’s torment from years past.

Accepting losses and stopping was easy, but what if prices rose tomorrow?

That pain, almost like personally tearing up money, wasn’t something ordinary people could bear.

Like those cotton farmers blindly stockpiling in Ningbo Port. Those who sold goods at the low price of one tael and six qian—now that prices had recovered to one tael and eight qian, how regretful they must feel.

Warmth and tingling sensations lingered between her fingers. Lin Yuchan circled in this dilemma for ten minutes before finally swallowing her pride and seeking outside help for the first time.

“Boss Su,” she asked weakly, “what do you think cotton prices will do?”

Su Minguan was taking bedding from the luggage, helping her make the bed, and bending to smooth wrinkles in the sheets.

He looked back slightly, smiling politely: “What if I guess wrong? Wouldn’t that earn your resentment for nothing—A’Mei, should the sheets be tucked in or left hanging?”

Lin Yuchan protested quietly: “I wouldn’t do that.”

But his point made sense. Su Minguan wasn’t an encyclopedia either. His understanding of the raw cotton market was still that of an outsider. Having him predict cotton prices was like asking someone in a casino to guess big or small—meaningless.

But he thought about it and asked: “You said Zheng Guanying also opened a trading house, supplying cotton to Baoshun Trading House?”

Lin Yuchan nodded.

“Then… if cotton prices fall back, he’d also suffer losses. Right?”

Lin Yuchan paused, thought about it, and said: “Maybe he already sold his cotton to Baoshun when prices were high.”

Suddenly, a beam of light flashed in her mind. When she visited Xiangsheng Hao that day, she had forgotten to inquire about this!

Had Zheng Guanying sold his own collected raw cotton or not?

Foreign merchants and compradors were always the first to know about commodity price changes. If Zheng Guanying had sold his cotton early, it indicated he held a bearish view on price trends.

Conversely…

However, even if she asked, he definitely wouldn’t tell her easily. Most likely another disdainful, mocking look.

Lin Yuchan leaned against the wall, lost in thought.

Su Minguan shook out another luggage bag, expecting pillows, but unexpectedly a pile of small items tumbled out—all girl’s thin clothing.

He quickly let go, but his eyes were faster than his hands. A snow-white camisole nightgown jumped into his vision.

He suddenly held his breath, blood rushing to his brain, gritting his teeth as he slowly said: “A’Mei, how can you pack things so carelessly?”

Lin Yuchan realized with alarm, her ears were heating up instantly. She was about to go collect them when she suddenly remembered her hands still had oil on them.

Though most was wiped off, they still weren’t clean and definitely couldn’t touch white clothes.

At this moment, the floorboards thumped. Someone downstairs shouted, “Miss Lin, should we bring up your safe now?”

Lin Yuchan hurriedly called: “No rush, brothers, rest downstairs for a while!”

She glanced at the mess on the bed—nothing particularly shameful—so she lowered her head, blushing and smiling: “Comrade Xiaobai, help me out.”

Su Minguan: “…”

“Just fold them and stuff them in the wardrobe. It’s fine, I don’t mind if your hands are dirty.”

After saying this quietly, she saw his eyebrows take on a suspicious flush, his eyes still maintaining composure, giving her a calm glance before turning to bend down.

“Lazy cat.” His voice was low, husky, and deep. “Lazy to the extreme.”

She secretly smiled.

Who told him not to warn her early about oil on the window frame?

Su Minguan’s way of folding clothes was unique. No one taught him as a child, and growing up, life forced him to figure it out independently. He didn’t fold clothes like ordinary people with fold upon fold, but from left to right, crease by crease, then rolled them up.

Quite efficient and space-saving.

Lin Yuchan found it interesting, watching his fingers fly, enjoying the show.

He was cautious at first, folding two of her undergarments, gradually becoming more relaxed and beginning to enjoy it. Looking closely, the sleeves and elbows of those garments had been specially reinforced with dense stitching. The collars retained faint girlish fragrance.

He suddenly said softly, “My undershirt sleeves also wear out often. Next month, sailing with the ship, with much labor, I’ll ruin several more pieces.”

This lazy girl saw right through his thoughts and smiled: “Go find a tailor.”

This reinforcement method was learned from Xiao Feng before—quite time-consuming. She wouldn’t do free work for him.

“I’ll go tomorrow.” Su Minguan gave her a slight look, eyes smiling, slowly rolling up one of her undergarments and tying it with the garment strings into a small bundle. “I need to bring a sample for the tailor.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

He tricked her out of a piece of clothing for nothing.

Clothes weren’t cheap these days—he thought they were cabbages!

She gritted her teeth gently and smiled sweetly: “I still need to wear this piece. I’ll give you another one.”

Su Minguan’s gaze shifted, his expression changed again, and his ears turned red.

He quickly adjusted his state, turned around, and smiled frankly: “Good, which one?”

Lin Yuchan felt somewhat trapped. This person climbed poles shamelessly!

She took a deep breath, indicating with her eyes the pile of clothes beside them, directing him to take out that lace camisole nightgown.

Actually, by modern standards, this dress wasn’t revealing at all—completely wearable for street shopping.

But “ancient people” weren’t quite adapted yet. Holding that soft hem, his fingertips unconsciously curled, light and shadow moving in his eyes as he imagined her wearing it.

Lin Yuchan felt mischievous satisfaction rising in her heart, smiling: “It’s cold now, so I can’t wear this. And also…”

And also, she’d bought this dress almost two years ago when she wasn’t yet sixteen.

Too small. Couldn’t be altered. Should be retired.

But having lived in the Qing for over two years, she feared the life of material scarcity. This perfectly good piece of clothing, unbroken and unworn, throwing it away would be sinful, and she couldn’t bear it, so she kept it. Hadn’t worn it in a long time.

He wanted it? Today, she could conveniently dump it on him without heartache. Make room in her wardrobe.

Lin Yuchan said generously, “I’m giving it to you. Of course, it’s useless to you, so handle it however…”

“Who said it’s useless to me?”

Su Minguan suddenly interrupted her, his voice extremely soft, barely audible.

His knuckles strained as he roughly rolled that little nightgown into a flat, small bundle and tucked it into his chest.

Then he quickly put her remaining clothes in the wardrobe and shut the door.

Lin Yuchan didn’t hear clearly: “What did you say?”

His eyes flashed with a mischievous light, lips curving up, not answering.

Sunlight from the window spilled in, outlining his handsome profile.

“Where should the safe go? I’ll help you move it.”

Lin Yuchan held up her two dirty hands, watching him leave and go downstairs. She sat on the bed for a while, deeply reflecting for half a minute on her increasingly shameless behavior.

Wait…

She suddenly realized something, her cheeks slowly flushing.

Last time before Su Minguan’s long voyage, he had shamelessly insisted on getting a personal item from her.

She had given him soap, which he barely used, presumably just holding it for fun throughout the journey.

This time, again, before a business trip…

Lin Yuchan’s whole body suddenly felt feverish. This man had problems!