A moon hung suspended in the sky, its light breaking through dark clouds to illuminate the Western-style classical mansion on the Haihe River mudflats, streaming into the canopy of a Victorian four-poster bed.

Delicate piano music drifted from the hotel lobby, traveling along the carpeted corridor to reach the silent riverbank. The pianist seemed inexperienced at first, trying several openings, striking wrong notes, until finally, just when about to give up, finding the melody of a gentle sonata, proceeding haltingly forward.

Individual notes rose and fell, weaving through boundless darkness. Then, trickles gathered into an ocean. Single notes became harmony, and simple exploration became fluid release. At the music’s most intense moments, ascending chords were like towering waves, the pianist using awkward technique to barely control the overwhelming force, stumbling over peak after peak, bursting forth with indescribable pain and joy. Finally, the chords descended slowly from the high notes, returning to tranquility, the last few notes clinging together intimately, leisurely yet firm, rippling with the satisfaction of fulfilled wishes.

After a long while, the satisfied pianist closed the piano lid. A soft humming sound awakened the person in the guest room.

Su Minguan recalled his childhood, the Portuguese garden courtyard where he stayed during a vacation in Macau. It was his first time crossing the sea by boat, his first time coming to squares and streets full of exotic charm. It was during the foreigners’ Christmas season, and he escaped his nanny’s sight, exploring randomly along streets dotted with starlight decorations everywhere. Fresh pastries and toys were everywhere, and nuns in the church competed to stuff candy into his hands. He was as happy as a little mouse fallen into a pile of sweets.

Until he drank Gemada in some Western building—a milky yellow drink mixed with milk and eggs, sprinkled with cinnamon powder, sweet and rich, steaming hot, cup after cup. He didn’t know restraint then, couldn’t stop drinking, completely unaware that it was mixed with strong rum.

He didn’t know what happened afterward, only remembered the extreme joy filling his entire body, the colorful, brilliant fireworks under his eyelids, all the omnipotent scenarios a little boy could imagine—he experienced them all in his dreams…

When he regained consciousness, he was sunk in the soft velvet bedding of a Victorian bed, his whole person drowsy and heavy-limbed, having completely forgotten what happened before, with only that fulfilled euphoric feeling, mixed with threads of blissful dizziness, clearly remaining in his heart.

Just like now.

Su Minguan opened his eyes, quietly gazing at the palm-sized little face so close at hand.

Her entire head was almost buried in the soft down pillow, peacefully closing her eyes, water light remaining on her rounded lips, her eyelashes occasionally fluttering, brushing against the red rose embroidered on the pillow.

The thin night seemed like a layer of black gauze, making her skin appear pale and smooth, like a precious shell left behind by the sea.

Completely unlike a few hours ago, when she was cherry-red all over, the flush extending to her neck and collarbone, even the tears sliding from the corners of her eyes seemed tinged with red…

At first, she was full of ambition, thinking that with his hands cuffed, she could do whatever she wanted. After scheming for half the day, before she could even start being domineering, she set herself on fire and ended up losing herself in the process.

Even in that state, she stubbornly held on, eyes wide open, biting her lips and refusing to make a sound.

Only then did he realize that such a strong-willed girl—unbreakable, uncrushed, always keeping three parts sober when facing situations, mature beyond her years—could also lose her reason and speak nonsense.

She could also suddenly cry.

She could also, when at wit’s end, very embarrassingly beg for mercy.

And her voice was so pleasant.

Su Minguan quietly curved his lips, pulling up two inches of quilt to cover her thin, lonely shoulders.

She indeed needed to recuperate. Two months of confinement, two months of bland diet—there was no meat left on her body at all. Her ambition and actual capability were completely mismatched. Although he had shackles on his body, in that kind of situation, it didn’t make much difference.

In any case, Su Minguan felt rather unsporting about his victory, his conscience uncommonly pricking him.

Of course, he might not have performed perfectly either. But upon waking, only her passionate eyes remained in his mind. As for those less-than-perfect details, the embarrassing moments… as a man, he naturally filtered those out automatically.

Heat stirred restlessly in his belly as he gently stroked her hairline, smoothing out the messy strands of hair, brushing them in one direction. Then, unable to love her enough, he couldn’t help but lightly peck her forehead. She didn’t wake.

His arm was a bit numb. Using both hands, he quietly withdrew from beneath her neck. She bounced twice on the soft pillow, making two “mm” sounds, but still didn’t wake.

She was truly exhausted.

Su Minguan silently rose, planning to add some wood to the dying fireplace.

Before getting out of bed, he discovered he had no clothes to wear!

She had cut them all up!

He indignantly burrowed back under the covers. That bit of tender feeling flew to the ninth heaven, and he just wanted to discipline this hateful little troublemaker for another two hours.

On the pillow, the peaceful sleeping face remained unchanged, but the pale red corner of her lips suddenly twitched.

She was smiling!

Seconds later, Lin Yuchan couldn’t help it and laughed out loud with her eyes still closed.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have clean clothes either… I’ll have someone buy some later… hehe, but everyone’s still sleeping now, just be patient, hehe…”

Su Minguan kept a straight face, covering over her, reminding her word by word: “I have no money.”

“I have… Ah, keeping a man is expensive…”

He was practically crying from anger. This girl had gone to Beijing for a trip and hadn’t learned anything good, but thought she was the Empress Dowager!

His hands explored downward, ambiguously caressing her smooth skin. The handcuffs had long since warmed up and wouldn’t chill her.

She pushed him away, but couldn’t push away the second time, only then realizing she had angered the god. She suddenly opened her eyes, looking at him with wet, watery eyes, embarrassed to speak, only pretending to be aggrieved.

Su Minguan kissed her lips.

“A’Mei,” he said tenderly like water, very seductively, “didn’t you want me to do this last night…”

Her ears grew hot. Last night she was reckless and ignorant, but now she was scared, all right!

Rolling to the side like escaping for her life, “I was just talking…”

“It hurts, don’t move.”

This was Su Minguan’s infallible trump card from last night. With both hands cuffed, once he held her, it was hard to separate. If she struggled fiercely, he would be in pain.

Lin Yuchan felt sorry for him and had no choice but to stay still and go along with him.

What was originally a weak point became a strength, much to his delight.

Using the same trick again today, Lin Yuchan’s mind was clearer and finally tasted something wrong: “You… you can just not move yourself!”

Su Minguan pretended not to hear. Having tasted her sweetness, how could he easily let go? He gently pushed apart her knees, looking at her, his dark pupils innocent yet yearning, like a little boy being taken away from a pile of candy.

“Be good. I’ll be gentler.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Suddenly, she cried “Ah!” and no longer caring whether he was in pain or not, burst forth with unprecedented strength, bouncing up from the down pillow, frantically lifting the covers.

“Disaster…”

Su Minguan glanced, and his heart suddenly sank, seeing glaring blood.

He hurriedly embraced her, apologizing: “It’s my fault…”

She buried her head in his arms, sobbing mournfully.

“It came early… wuu wuu…”

He bit his lip, his ears suddenly red, glaring at her fiercely with his eyes.

“You have money,” he pinched her back, reminding her expressionlessly, “You can afford to compensate.”

Lin Yuchan rolled off the bed in one motion, supporting herself against the bedpost, and couldn’t help but softly “hiss.”

Then, limping, she ran to the bathroom to clean herself up.

How embarrassing!

Why did he always happen to be there every time this kind of thing occurred? It was like he calculated the dates and made precision airdrops!

But fortunately, she escaped disaster. Whatever “you wanted this yesterday” or “you wanted that yesterday”—let him think about it himself.

She cleaned herself up and looked in the mirror, getting so angry that her three souls left her body.

“Su Minguan,” she rubbed the chaotic red marks all over her skin, questioning across space, “Are you Emperor Qianlong?!”

This person was even more frightening than she thought. With both hands cuffed, he could still…

She wanted to keep him cuffed forever. Tie a rope to him and take him wherever she wanted.

She wrapped herself in a blanket, rang the bell for a servant, and gave a long string of instructions through the door.

The foreign hotel service was truly first-class. Probably having received many such mysterious, dissolute guests, the servant agreed to everything without asking a single extra word.

First, they had the bedding changed, then asked what the master and mistress wanted for breakfast. Lin Yuchan tentatively mentioned “Goubuli steamed buns,” and after half an hour, they bought some—white, hot, fresh, and not greasy big buns, personally steamed by Master Gao of “Goubuli,” one of the recently famous “Three Treasures of Tianjin.”

When dawn came, someone returned from the market and, according to Lin Yuchan’s description of their builds, purchased several sets of men’s and women’s clothing inside and out, along with shoes and hats, all delivered to the room.

Lin Yuchan put on new clothes. Then someone else knocked, delivering a large jar of yellow tobacco and a box of foreign matches. The tray also provided opium paste, probably assuming opium addicts lived in this room.

Lin Yuchan returned the opium paste but kept the tobacco. Su Minguan was bare-chested, placing both hands on an English cherry wood writing desk, with Lin Yuchan’s old clothes cushioning under his elbows. Lin Yuchan followed his instructions, wrapping his wrists with a wet cloth. A small pinch of tobacco was placed at the metal connection of the handcuffs, lit with a match, then using paper rolled into a small blowing tube, slowly blowing.

This was ancient wisdom earned through countless experiences and lessons by the Hong Men brothers. Always effective, just time-consuming.

And the person blowing had a harder job—puffing out cheeks, breath couldn’t be too heavy or too light, and had to control direction. Couldn’t let the tobacco go out, but couldn’t burn the hands either. That head-shaking, serious, and focused energy was just like eight-legged essay experts composing in examination halls.

The two sat quietly side by side, taking turns blowing tobacco, occasionally looking up to mock each other’s awkward appearance.

Then kissing, kissing away the tobacco taste on each other’s lips, unknowingly, ten minutes would pass—

“Ah!”

Su Minguan quickly withdrew his hand, and the wet cloth wrapped around his hand burned with a small black spot.

Lin Yuchan burst into laughter.

Su Minguan couldn’t help laughing with her, leaning over to kiss her trembling cheek.

His exquisitely clever heart appeared crystal clear to outsiders, but corners were also covered with dust, attached with many hard-to-dissolve burdens.

Until that moment, her laughter was like delicate tendrils, exploring every corner of him, brushing away years of accumulated dust.

Only then did he truly believe that this nameless, statusless wedding night had not diminished her in the slightest. She remained so radiant, without regret, without loneliness, without the sorrowful resentment of seeming to have lost something.

So he swallowed back the string of prepared words in his belly—about taking responsibility, swearing oaths, being struck by lightning if he changed his heart—and softly suggested: “Change the paper tube.”

“What do you plan to do?” Lin Yuchan asked softly while rolling the paper tube, “After we return…”

Su Minguan smiled, looking at her teasingly.

“Can’t I first take a vacation?”

Of course, he wouldn’t wash his hands in a golden basin and withdraw from the martial world. But when all was said and done, he just wouldn’t mention letting her help.

Su Minguan shook off the blackened tobacco ash, tapped the handcuffs to listen to the sound, stood up for the third time, fixed the sharp Wang Mazi scissors in the desk crack, pulling out the blue-gleaming blade—

Crack!

The refined steel had been made brittle by slow fire. After several attempts, it finally surrendered. The scissors cut through like cutting earth, breaking the handcuffs into several pieces.

Su Minguan slowly separated his hands, moving his stiff wrists.

It had only been one day total, but it felt like being imprisoned for several years. He wasn’t quite used to this completely unrestrained feeling.

Lin Yuchan cheered, examining his red and swollen wrist skin.

“I had someone buy ointment…”

He didn’t respond to that sentence. Without a word, he opened his arms to lift her, tossing her back onto the bed. The covers rolled in great waves.

Lin Yuchan cried out: “I can’t—”

Su Minguan laughed loudly, soothingly kissing her cheek, enjoying his freedom with restraint.

“I’ll put it on account. On account… this way also on account.” He arrogantly played the rogue, “For bullying me yesterday.”

Lin Yuchan stared wide-eyed, deeply dissatisfied with his ability to confuse black and white.

Who was bullying whom?

She struggled against him with force. When being turned over, she twisted her head, saying pitifully: “It hurts.”

One word was like a magic needle that calmed the seas. He hastily stopped, holding her against him and patting, promising in a small voice: “Next time will be better.”

“I want ginger milk pudding.”

Su Minguan: “…You have money. Go buy it yourself.”

Though he said this, neither wanted to go out. Lin Yuchan was bleeding, and due to certain unspeakable reasons, even walking felt awkward. These two debuffs combined meant she only wanted to lie in bed.

Furthermore, Tianjin’s winter temperature dropped sharply. Overnight, the Haihe River was capped with ice, ships were frozen on the water surface and couldn’t move, dock workers and porters all took vacation. Outside the window was covered with white frost, a rare scene of desolation.

Only inside was steamy hot, radiating the comfortable small nest smell that made people reluctant to leave.

Burning through handcuffs took a whole day’s work. Ordering another meal, it was dark before they knew it.

No rush to return to Shanghai either. In ancient times, travel depended on heaven’s mood. Now with Haihe River frozen, foreign steamships delayed docking. As for land routes, due to warfare along the way, traveling with a woman was unthinkable.

Lin Yuchan thought she could sleep well the second night, but completely underestimated that little boy who drank too much Gemada. For the first time in years, he had put down business dealings, had no decision-making burdens, yet couldn’t stay idle, using all his energy to explore various wild possibilities. Without handcuff restrictions, he practically wanted to reach the sky.

Lin Yuchan was pressed by him against an Italian Renaissance carved long chair, regretting everything, only able to guard the last line of defense and let him have his way.

She was only responsible for eating midnight snacks on time and properly nourishing her body.

He had considerable inventory in his chest—things heard at drinking parties, seen in idle books—finally able to implement them in stages. But the problem was that theory and practice had gaps. The boasts men made, the books men wrote, and the tricks inside might not please girls; some ideas even made girls very uncomfortable. Though Su Minguan had high natural talent, sometimes he still needed guidance.

By the latter half of the night, Lin Yuchan felt she had become a temporary life mentor, discussing various strange physiological knowledge with Su Minguan under the covers. Some she didn’t quite understand either, but fortunately had a ready human model for clarification. It was just like when they stayed up reading “The Wealth of Nations.” Finally both academic underachievers couldn’t hold on and collapsed into pillows.

This sleep lasted until the sun was high. A servant knocked, saying he had booked the earliest trading company ship tickets for the master and mistress, departing in ten days.

Lin Yuchan heroically resolved that these ten days absolutely could not all be wasted like this!

She smiled as she watched Su Minguan dress. The Tianjin people’s aesthetic wasn’t bad. Though the clothing style was rather mature, it had an unexpectedly solid, steady feeling. Made people think this big boss earned bushels of gold daily and was omnipotent.

…Of course, his foundation was good too. Even draped in cloth, he’d be the most handsome lama in all of Yonghe Palace.

But when Su Minguan put on the hat, it was a bit awkward: “Doesn’t fit.”

The hat with a fake pigtail sewn on, specially bought with difficulty for middle-aged balding men, didn’t offer style choices. The key was that it was made according to northern Manchu head shapes. When Su Minguan put it on, the brim went right over his eyebrows.

Lin Yuchan laughed until her sides hurt: “I’ll sew it tighter for you.”

She suddenly felt annoyed again: “I bought you a special round-head hat at Ma Juyuan in Beijing.”

Too bad it burned with the other luggage. Such a pity.

She suddenly remembered something and called out: “Oh right, there’s more!”

She had almost forgotten!

Hurriedly rummaging through old clothes.

Bao Liang had moved all her luggage to his villa. When she pretended to check items, she secretly stuffed several most important things on her person.

Like the Derringer 1858 small pistol. But she didn’t bring much ammunition or gunpowder—now it was just a useless gun.

Also, two small dough figurines made by a craftsman at Dashilan market—one White Snake, one Fa Hai. At the time, Lin Yuchan thought, no matter what was lost, this pair of interesting souvenirs absolutely couldn’t be lost.

But dough figurines couldn’t be preserved long-term. Pulling them from her pocket, she discovered they had long since dried and cracked, broken into several pieces. Various colored fragments are mixed.

Like her trip to Beijing, undertaken with high spirits but ending in fragments.

Lin Yuchan stared blankly, her mouth twitching, with inexplicable sadness. Raising her hand, she wanted to throw them in the fireplace.

Su Minguan asked: “What is it?”

Before she could explain, he mostly guessed, embracing her from behind, picking through those broken dough pieces in her palm.

“For me?” he asked softly.

She nodded silently.

Su Minguan smiled and teased her: “Made of dough, not being eaten by mice is pretty good.”

From those remains, he vaguely saw the outline of a handsome man and woman. He imagined her on the dusty streets of southern Beijing, standing by a small craft stall, gesturing to describe his appearance.

His heart felt wrapped by a warm towel as he smiled: “Dough isn’t reliable. I heard Tianjin has ‘Clay Figure Zhang’—the clay figures he makes aren’t afraid of wind, sun, or rain. Let’s find him later.”

Lin Yuchan pretended difficulty: “Who’s paying?”

Su Minguan gave her a look, gathering her hands, pouring the broken pieces of the two figurines into his palm, shaking them until the fragments mixed indistinguishably together. Then, I took paper to wrap them up.

“Bury them in the garden?” he suggested.

Lin Yuchan felt it wasn’t necessary to be so ceremonious. But ancient thinking—puppets with human faces, even toys, couldn’t be casually discarded.

So, finally having an excuse to go out. Lin Yuchan wrapped herself up tight, extinguished the fireplace, brought sufficient silver, and happily stayed close to her boyfriend.

Walking in the corridor covered with thick velvet carpet, other foreign guests frequently turned to look, smiling at this pair of Chinese golden boy and jade girl, some even nodding politely, saying softly: “Congratulations!”

Lin Yuchan’s face reddened past her ears. Looking down at her hands, she wasn’t even holding his hand.

Did they look like a honeymoon couple?

…Thinking about it, yes. Except for honeymoons and government expense accounts, which a Chinese person burns money to stay here.

After quietly burying the figurine fragments in the courtyard garden, they strolled along Victoria Road. Walking out of the concession, in the northeast city corner, was the “Grand View Theater,” with tea seats below. They ordered a pot of tea, listening to opera from afar and customers’ idle chat nearby.

Tianjin Port was where commerce gathered, the Zhili Governor’s seat, Beijing’s first foreign affairs station. People got the news first, sometimes knowing things faster than Beijing locals.

Lin Yuchan heard that the Empress Dowager’s birthday was celebrated grandly. At the birthday banquet, countless brilliant paper lanterns rose, each reportedly costing twenty taels of silver, arranged into the characters for fortune and longevity—truly spectacular. But some people lowered their voices, saying the Empress Dowager’s birthday wasn’t peaceful. Nian bandits and rebels had infiltrated the capital, attempting to assassinate the Empress Dowager and Emperor. Fortunately, the plot was exposed and intercepted by the Bingma Si police, causing only a small disturbance.

Grand Secretary Yu Sheng’s only son, Bao Liang, in brave combat with the bandits, unfortunately caught by a stray bullet and died. The court provided special compensation, posthumously granting him the title of Tapu Si Qing and Qi Du Wei hereditary rank. Yu Sheng, overcome with grief and worry, had already applied to retire.

“Lord Yu’s position is vacant,” the chatting gentlemen analyzed knowingly, as if they were Forbidden City personnel appointment experts. “The court will probably have undercurrents again! Those of us in business need to curry favor with new people!”

Lin Yuchan and Su Minguan exchanged glances, thousands of words in their eyes.

She was completely safe now.

Bao Liang’s absurd private behavior pursuing girls—he kept tight-lipped about it, not daring to publicize it widely. Now that Bao Liang was silenced, Yu Sheng, devoted to Neo-Confucianism his whole life, would consider his son’s posthumous reputation and wouldn’t have the energy to investigate.

From Cixi’s perspective, this civilian woman who was innocently implicated in court factional struggles had been graciously released and her reputation restored by the Empress Dowager’s mercy, then quietly left Beijing without doing anything illegal.

They should thank those famous “Nian bandits.” All the turmoil that occurred in the capital that day could be blamed on them by local officials.

As for some lama temple being trespassed and losing a set of clothes, and some camel caravan’s inexplicable loss of camels…

No one discussed it. Probably no one would mention it in future either. Capital security was generally poor—such minor crimes always left victims swallowing their grievances in silence.

Leaving the teahouse, toward the dock direction, vehicles of all sizes blocked the road. In the distance they could see the Jinhai Customs building standing on Haihe mudflats. The checkered flag was slowly lowered. Hede was directing subordinates to load boxes of luggage onto horse carts.

Seeing him made Lin Yuchan angry: “I’m going to ask how much markup that foreign devil charged you.”