After finishing that sentence, Hede had fully entered crisis work mode, pulling out his diary from his pocket to jot down rough notes, grabbing his briefcase, mechanically bidding farewell to surrounding guests, then striding away quickly.

Lin Yuchan called after him: “Hey, don’t blame me if it doesn’t work out…”

She didn’t know if Hede heard her. She only heard leather shoes clicking on wooden stairs, echoing back.

Guests remaining at the reception whispered among themselves. The Inspector General had once again become the focus of discussion.

As for Ma Qingchen, he was already dizzy from this series of upheavals, or perhaps stunned by Hede’s confrontation. He could only instruct maids to tidy rooms, have the butler prepare tea, apologize to guests himself, and end this unmanageable reception early.

“Miss Lin, please look after my wife. My Chinese is limited—I think she needs a Chinese women’s company more right now.”

With his “family affairs” taken over by Hede, Ma Qingchen finally focused on the present, feeling pity and guilt for his wife who’d suddenly lost her father.

Gao Dewen awakened from her dizziness, finally able to have a moment’s quiet, finding an empty room to cry properly.

All her family and friends were gone. Her titles and status were gone too. Now she was alone, with only a foreign husband who was merely going through the motions beside her.

Lin Yuchan had maids heat water for her to wash her face, remove the stiff reception dress, and change into plain clothes.

From a cold observer’s perspective, Lin Yuchan felt she should now advise Gao Dewen to grasp available resources, quickly bind her foreign husband to her side, properly manage their marriage, and bear him one, two, three, four children to ensure her future livelihood security.

But… this didn’t align with her values. Even if she wanted to suggest this, female warrior Gao Dewen, who’d grown up in war, probably wouldn’t listen.

She could only say quietly: “There’s nothing much I can help with… the dead cannot return to life. Don’t do anything foolish. If you can’t get along with him in the future, just come find me in Shanghai.”

Gao Dewen, tears still on her face, looked at her with slight surprise.

This Miss Lin she’d met by chance, after barely a few words with her, had so sincerely extended a helping hand. Gao Dewen had grown up amid war and internal strife—in her short twenty years, she’d been betrayed more than once. Instinct told her not to trust anyone too much at the first meeting.

But… Gao Dewen reconsidered—this powerless little girl, how could she harm her anyway?

She dipped her finger in camphor oil, applying it to her temples for alertness, steadying her emotions that were about to fall apart.

“Thank you.” She nodded to Lin Yuchan, saying wearily, “I… I have no family now, but I won’t seek death. If Qingchen wants to divorce me someday, my dowry is enough to last a lifetime. To tell you the truth, I’m richer than he now.”

Hearing “dowry,” Lin Yuchan’s heartstrings were struck, immediately saying: “You must hold tight to your dowry—don’t let your husband use it all!”

Gao Dewen looked at this girl with surprise again, finally couldn’t help smiling slightly, the corners of her tear-stained eyes curving slightly.

“You understand quite well. Thanks.”

Seeing her emotions stabilize, Lin Yuchan checked the time and politely took her leave.

Only upon leaving did she feel hungry. At such a high-end reception, she’d only drunk two glasses of foreign wine without time for a bite of food. Luckily, she had those sweet potato rings to fill her stomach, or she definitely couldn’t walk straight now.

Hankou’s concession streets were empty, newly erected kerosene lamps glowing with weak orange light. Local idle Chinese had been cleared out completely, leaving only scattered elegant gentlemen walking among tall Western buildings, appearing safe and tranquil.

Several young foreigners who’d also left the reception struck up conversation: “Chinese miss, where do you live? We’ll escort you.”

Patrol officers came and went, occasionally glancing at her Chinese face. Without thinking, if she walked alone all the way, she’d inevitably be mistaken for some special profession.

So Lin Yuchan nodded.

All were local trading company employees. While walking, Lin Yuchan gave them business cards, answered some curious questions, and finally somewhat completed today’s KPI.

At the barrier gate where the concession and Chinese areas met, several trading company lads looked at each other, hesitating briefly.

“Never been to the Chinese area… but there are several of us, shouldn’t be dangerous… at worst we’ll dirty our shoes… can’t let a young lady walk alone…”

Before they could discuss much, a carriage stopped at the barrier gate. A figure descended like a whirlwind, whisking that young lady into the carriage.

“Stop! Stop the carriage! This is a British order!” Several trading company employees shouted angrily. “Who are you? How dare you—”

An arrogant declaration came from the air: “Her paramour! Thanks for looking after my girl!”

The carriage rolled along, thick curtains shutting out the heartless world outside.

“…Mm, not bad.”

Lin Yuchan’s thoughts were still tangled around Gao Dewen and the Suzhou tragedy. Su Minguan called her softly several times before she came to.

“Hm? What’s not bad?”

Looking down, she discovered a bracelet on her wrist. A simple, light silver bracelet with filigree fine as hair, the clasp formed by two small green plum petals, the opening and safety chain hidden inside.

Not too big, not too small—it hung perfectly at the narrowest part of her wrist, adding a touch of fullness to that slender wrist.

Coming to her senses, her first reaction was delight: “So cute!”

Young Master’s taste was indeed excellent!

Then she blushed slightly: “For me?”

Su Minguan smiled without answering.

Earlier at the teahouse during business negotiations, that jewelry peddler had indeed returned as promised, working with him to muddy the waters, raising those business partners high, saving him considerable trouble. Moreover, the peddler was shrewd, especially bringing another batch of less gaudy jewelry. Su Minguan glanced briefly and found several pieces pleasing to the eye.

So he spent money alongside several business partners, also selecting the most unique and elegant piece to please his paramour.

Silver jewelry was now common, not too precious. Lin Yuchan happily thanked him, lifting her wrist to look left and right.

When the carriage stopped, she was surprised to discover workers systematically removing roadblocks at Luna’s dock.

“Hurry! Clear everything before curfew!” A city defense captain with a protruding belly supervised. “Damn, finally left—let me sleep well tonight!”

Lin Yuchan’s heart raced. Forgetting the bracelet, she looked back in surprise.

Under the night sky, half of Su Minguan’s face was lit warm by streetlamps. A trace of pleasant confusion flashed in his eyes as he looked at the pool of black water outside the dock, then at the gowned girl before him.

“You might not know yet—Hede has moved on. I saw his steamship depart from here, quite urgently.” He said quietly. “Local government couldn’t wait to send away this great deity, immediately canceling martial law checkpoints—they’re finishing up now. A’Mei, what happened at the reception?”

Lin Yuchan drew a light breath, surprised delight slowly appearing in her eyes.

This was called efficiency in action!

Whether Hede or Su Minguan, both adapted quickly and acted decisively. When opportunities came, they absolutely wouldn’t delay or waste them.

Curfew approaching, many hurried pedestrians returned home on the streets. Occasional scattered vendor calls rang out.

She couldn’t explain the reception’s upheavals in detail here, only saying simply: “Hede went to Suzhou…”

Before finishing the sentence, she suddenly saw a soft ladder lowered from the steamship deck, a group descending in single file. They all carried empty shoulder poles, dressed as ordinary common people.

Hong Chunkui wore a thick fur hat, stepping on potholes left by roadblocks, waving his stick once, shouting: “All move faster! Delivering coal so slowly—curfew’s starting soon! If soldiers catch you as thieves, I won’t protect you!…”

Hong Chunkui spoke authentic Hankou dialect. Uninformed passersby would only think this group was local laborers transporting coal and supplies to the steamship.

All passengers on the steamship had been inspected and registered for disembarkation. Theoretically, Luna was now empty.

To let these Nanjing stowaways leave, they could only temporarily stage this performance.

After the “laborers” successfully exited the city, taking advantage of curfew shift changes when city defenses were lax, they’d use freight ox carts to disperse into the countryside, beginning their second lives.

Lin Yuchan was nervously tense, her heart racing, glancing sideways.

Su Minguan’s pupils reflected weak lamplight, his expression cold as a passerby’s, but his gaze sharply watched every pedestrian’s movements.

He turned his head, giving her a calm, unhurried smile, indicating everything was properly arranged.

She’d just relaxed when suddenly she saw a lone duty battalion officer finishing relieving himself, swaying out from a wall corner. He first examined her, then casually glanced at those “laborers.”

“Eh?…”

Lin Yuchan’s heart clenched tight. He mustn’t discover these “laborers” were all women and children!

From professional instinct, the battalion officer called out, planning to go ask a few questions.

Lin Yuchan felt Su Minguan grip her hand tightly, then he lowered his head, quickly whispering a few words.

Panicked female voices rang out on the street outside the dock: “Robbery! Catch the thief! Chase him—”

The battalion officer was startled, quickly turning back. A bright-eyed, white-toothed girl in men’s clothing looked distraught, stamping her feet and shouting.

A nimble black shadow flashed into an alley entrance.

The girl frantically incoherent, touching her wrist, shouted at the battalion officer: “Money, money, silver! Bracelet!…”

The battalion officer was instantly energized, calling: “Miss, don’t panic! I’ll get people to catch the thief!”

He took off running.

Catching thieves was secondary. That naive girl had personally said she’d lost silver. Right! She’d been wearing a silver bracelet on her wrist earlier—now her sleeve was empty, gone!

This girl wasn’t poor—the silver she lost wouldn’t be a small amount. When they retrieved it to return to her, missing ten or twenty taels, she definitely wouldn’t dare demand it back.

This was years of professional experience for officers and soldiers, penetrating their blood, becoming instinct. No need to think—their legs were already flying, chasing that ungrateful fortune thief.

Unfortunately, the thief had excellent qinggong, weaving through Hankou’s old city districts—government buildings, drum towers, offices, academies, temples… touring them all before quietly disappearing into thin air, leaving only officers and soldiers bent over clutching their stomachs, blaming each other.

…

Lin Yuchan climbed the gangway in a few steps.

Under gaslight, Su Minguan’s face was flushed, breathing slightly hard. She smiled, handing him a handkerchief to wipe sweat.

Su Minguan looked at her with a smile, putting the bracelet back on her wrist.

She wasn’t satisfied: “Young Master, return the stolen goods.”

Su Minguan glanced at her lightly. She wore his small silk shirt, his hat, his belt and sachet, his gifted bracelet on her wrist…

Wearing all his belongings, yet asking him to return money?

He glanced aside, seriously calling: “Chunkui.”

This Hong Chunkui was truly headache-inducing. Call him incompetent? He’d commanded thousands of troops, taken many Qing officers’ heads. Call him reliable? Several times, he’d stumbled at the last moment over unremarkable details, requiring others to clean up after him.

Fundamentally, this old brother was accustomed to grand narratives, being somewhat careless in daily minutiae.

No one was perfect. At least the refugees had safely left. With time bombs removed from Luna one by one, Su Minguan felt several pounds lighter.

Hong Chunkui was already waiting nearby, expressing deep reflection on his habitual chain-dropping.

“This subordinate is here. Helmsman’s great kindness—now with success achieved, if this subordinate previously offended you, sir, I submit to any punishment without breaking my word.”

Su Minguan’s mouth curved in a slight, cold smile, sharply replying: “Have the ability to say this when Miss Lin isn’t present.”

Knowing Miss Lin was soft-hearted and definitely wouldn’t say “then go die,” this attitude showed no sincerity at all.

Hong Chunkui’s old face reddened, touching his stubbled scalp, smiling sheepishly, and bowing deeply to Lin Yuchan.

“Will the miss forgive me?”

Though Lin Yuchan had been frightened under his control, many days had passed—she’d long since lost any psychological shadow.

She asked: “You’re not leaving with your companions, planning to stay?”

“If the helmsman would honor me.” Hong Chunkui answered neither humbly nor arrogantly. “Yixing has managed to settle officials upstream and downstream—this escape route has proven safe. If used only once, it would be wasteful. Chunkui boldly suggests the next Shen-Han route can still carry military and civilian brothers according to this time’s rules—one hundred taels per life, not shortchanging the brothers.”

Lin Yuchan drew a light breath.

Hong Chunkui dared to think big!

Su Minguan was also slightly surprised, then walked into the cabin with his sleeves flicked.

“As you put it, refugees in the city have rich and poor—you uniformly price at one hundred taels, there’s great room for profit margins. Brother Chunkui, I quite like this suggestion, but my subordinates might not agree.”

Hong Chunkui quickly followed, explaining: “Brother has no such thoughts! Only wanting to save one more life, as for monetary transactions…”

He paused, embarrassed to say directly: The reason for mentioning money was seeing that you ship bosses were only interested in profit—you definitely wouldn’t take risks for free. This was just appealing to your preferences, mentioning it casually. Anyway, prices in Jiangning city had become absurdly expensive—this rescue money wouldn’t buy a few pounds of rat meat. When the city truly fell, without lives, what use was money?

He changed his phrasing: “That’s also to help brothers navigate relationships, bribe up and down, compensate for steamship ticket losses. Though we’re unsuccessful, we won’t burden you for nothing.”

People long besieged in isolated cities valued silver less than a bowl of rice—vast wealth couldn’t buy freedom. Hong Chunkui hadn’t completely escaped this mindset, so upon today’s successful smuggling, he boldly pushed his luck, proposing continued cooperation.

Su Minguan stopped walking.

“If so, let’s have everyone meet to discuss.” He maintained his calm tone, suddenly looking back at Lin Yuchan. “Miss Bai Yushan, join the deliberations?”

After a night of urgent consultation, Yixing members aboard unanimously agreed that if circumstances allowed, while maintaining normal passenger service, they would smuggle refugees from Jiangning and collect appropriate compensation for costs and risks.

Additionally, rescued refugees must join the Yixing network—regardless of where they settled later, they must help each other.

Such opportunities to “collect money while doing good” were rare. After Su Minguan finalized the decision, everyone was enthusiastic, pulling Hong Chunkui to drink.

“Brother Hong, following our boss beats your small-time wandering! We’re not like Taiping brothers making earth-shaking rebellions, killing officials, but our work stands up to conscience—you’ll know later!”

Hong Chunkui smiled, initially skeptical. Su Minguan was a Guangdong-Guangxi helmsman—losing to him wasn’t unfair. But looking at others aboard, they all had ordinary people’s faces, various heights and builds, unlike the legendary generational anti-Qing demons.

But after a few drinks, Hong Chunkui cast these doubts to the wind. Long-missed freedom enveloped him. Here was no capricious Heavenly King who could kill with a gesture, no Qing army’s ever-falling, terrifying artillery. Only a group of striving people working hard to live, vaguely reminding him of thirteen years ago when he’d left home to join the Taiping Army—that enthusiastic, hopeful force.

So Hong Chunkui remained aboard. He spoke various dialects—an ideal spy candidate. Also, probably from loneliness during the siege, he’d developed excellent cooking skills, was elected as the ship’s head chef, and became a three-star Michelin spy.

Su Minguan had people forge temporary identity documents for him. Upon returning to Shanghai, they’d find connections for his residence registration.

After finishing everything, the time was near midnight. Su Minguan finally had the opportunity to return to his cabin, freshening himself up as the day’s fatigue pressed down.

Lin Yuchan told him in detail about the reception’s upheavals. Gao Dewen’s marital troubles were private—she mentioned them briefly. The Suzhou massacre was a major event—in a few days, it would likely spread throughout the Yangtze region, triggering a wave of foreign-related public opinion.

Su Minguan’s expression was grave.

Suzhou was Jiangning’s gateway. With this city falling, next would be Wuxi, Changzhou, southern Jiangsu areas. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom was disintegrating—his money-for-lives business seemed unlikely to last many months.

He felt somewhat melancholy, smiling: “When I was still a wealthy young master, I knew Jiangnan had a Long-Hair Kingdom, with great momentum that official troops couldn’t defeat. Hearing Jiangnan merchants’ words, dynastic change seemed natural.”

Now, watching that political pattern familiar since youth reshape bit by bit, the Great Qing regaining completeness, the impact was still intense.

Was this unchanging dynasty destined for eternal rule? Like an immortal giant beast that, though scarred all over, had no fatal wounds, still slowly, painfully self-healing, seeping poisonous pus outward, contaminating the land’s remaining nutrients.

Su Minguan felt small waves in his heart: his brothers said his actions were conscientious, but he knew clearly that, though he had some conscience, he wouldn’t worship it daily. His actions were more from instinct, from innate moral concepts, from that defiant spirit that couldn’t be blown away or swept clean.

But would he spend his whole life entrenched in the giant beast’s wounds, using its remaining flesh to secure comfortable living for himself and those close to him? In others’ eyes, was this called being conscientious?

Where was this conscience’s destination?

Suddenly his hands warmed. The little girl had warmed her hands under the lamp, then grasped his. Winter air was bone-chillingly cold. Cabin cold seeped through cracks—this sudden warmth made him shiver all over.

He gripped her warm, soft hands back, asking: “A’Mei, you work so hard to make money—have you thought why?”

Lin Yuchan was startled. “I…”

This random pop quiz was hard to answer. Her first reaction was to say: naturally, for survival. In the Great Qing, nothing was reliable—more money meant more confidence, supporting her to do things previously unthinkable. Like arguing with old men, rescuing abandoned babies, snatching artifacts from foreigners…

But money wasn’t omnipotent after all—it couldn’t make her change from woman to man, gaining most people’s spontaneous respect. Nor could it make the Great Qing transform, making the Xinhai Revolution happen early…

History had its slow rhythm. Wuchang City was just across the river. Even if gunshots rang out from Wuchang arsenal right now, under current political circumstances, it wouldn’t evolve into decisive revolutionary events but would likely be quickly extinguished, becoming another vivid case of “single rebellion ruins a lifetime.”

She finally just smiled, saying simply: “China will always improve. I’m… um, saving for that day.”

Su Minguan couldn’t help smiling, putting on a stern face, saying quietly: “Treasonous, discussing the court. Tomorrow I’ll send you to prison.”

Though he said this, “China needs change” had become common street talk. From retired Beijing officials to teahouse idlers, everyone could avoid government ears and find opportunities to voice opinions.

Some believed the current disease stemmed entirely from the Empress Dowager’s rule—waiting for the Emperor to come of age and govern personally would restore yin-yang balance, naturally making the Great Qing prosperous. Others felt China’s corruption was entirely due to people not practicing ritual righteousness, forgetting ancestral fundamental teachings, bringing Heaven’s punishment and foreign invasion—only by reclaiming moral principles could China revive. Some thought they should vigorously purchase advanced firearms from foreigners, eliminating all rebellious troublemakers domestically, for clear seas and rivers before united foreign resistance. Others felt they should use ancestral Warring States tactics, playing vertical and horizontal alliances with Western nations, manipulating clouds and rain, using finesse to defeat those ill-intentioned red-haired foreigners one by one, naturally returning China to Celestial Empire status.

In various opium dens, such Romance of the Three Kingdoms-style scripts sprouted like bamboo after rain. Rising with opium smoke, producing three to five volumes daily was no problem.

But even if topics circled the earth eighty times, they’d finally return to “sage ruler worthy ministers, dragon rising with clouds” happy endings. After all, generations of consensus held that the realm belonged to the Aisin Gioro family—diplomacy, warfare were originally their family affairs. If not for their estate being too large, affecting too many, making this world unlivable through their misrule, who had time to worry unnecessarily? Not drawing court salaries, why fret over Manchu family property?

Su Minguan naturally disdained such strange theories. In open coastal areas, a few knowledgeable people had realized those vicious Western countries were only surface threats. On this land, something internal needed breaking. In everyone’s heart, something needed breaking.

But specifically what, he couldn’t answer.

Absurd. If someone could find that answer, China wouldn’t be in this ghostly state.

Su Minguan yawned slightly, abandoning these stagnant, strange thoughts, and rising to wash up.

Returning, he suddenly saw Lin Yuchan sitting cross-legged on the bed, an innocent smile carrying hints.

He was momentarily puzzled: “Did I forget something?”

“Young Master,” she said obediently, “today, refugees disembarked—the crew quarters are empty. You forgot?”