So Lin Yuchan was kidnapped onto the boat. The night wind was cold. Outside, three men took turns steering while Su Minguan let her rest in the cabin, lighting a brazier and tossing in several of her garments.

The oars stirred the water waves, making monotonous splashing sounds.

No sound came from the cabin. Su Minguan waited patiently, listening intently for her movements.

He felt retroactive fear. If he had been slightly less vigilant, with Miss Lin being invaded in her sleep, even with a gun, she couldn’t have overcome three well-prepared men.

Then…

He couldn’t think further. He knocked on the wall and pushed the door open.

“Why are you…”

Several garments he had randomly pulled from the wardrobe were still neatly folded at her feet. Lin Yuchan was still haphazardly wrapped in his overcoat, loose and baggy from top to bottom, the empty neckline showing white skin, her hem revealing a pair of slender legs.

Her hair was also unbound, hanging limply at her shoulders like a classical lady in Western paintings.

This boat had just unloaded cargo, the cabin carrying the scent of fresh earth. Bamboo blinds hung on the portholes, filtering the starlight outside into alternating light and shadow that fell on her smooth skin.

His throat moved as he demanded, “Why aren’t you dressed?”

The little girl blinked innocently at him: “Don’t you want to seize the moral high ground? I’m just playing along – going out like this looks more pitiful.”

His expression darkened further, his eyes flashing with anger.

Lin Yuchan was somewhat puzzled but also partly deliberate, placing her hand on the belt as if to untie it, seeking his opinion: “Should I just wear what’s underneath?”

Having narrowly escaped death tonight and firing a gun at villains for the first time seemed to ignite her adventurous genes. After the initial shock, she felt inexplicably excited, her adrenaline levels remaining high, with a particular urge to stir up trouble.

Su Minguan was furious, lowering his voice to roar: “That kind of clothing cannot be seen by others!”

She calmly reminded him: “You’ve seen it.”

Su Minguan: “…”

He gritted his teeth and asked: “Don’t need to take responsibility again?”

She nodded, innocently pointing outside: “When you pulled me out, they all saw it too.”

Su Minguan again: “…”

Could she not care about these details? Besides, how far were they? How far was he?

She had teased him enough, lowering her head to smile as she picked through the pile of clothes.

Of course, she didn’t dare to truly be willful. Su Minguan couldn’t do anything to her, and the other men on the boat could naturally pretend not to see. But if people on shore discovered her nightgown, she’d bet a thousand pounds that within ten minutes, patrol boats would be blocking their path, rushing in to crack down on vice.

“None are for lounging at home.” She shook her head while selecting. “You should have taken from the right pile.”

Su Minguan’s face was dark as he said coldly: “No time to go back. Just pick something.”

She had to take a pair of wide-leg cotton pants, removing her shoes to properly put them on. She pulled the waistband up from below, her hands working under the overcoat’s hem.

Su Minguan suddenly realized he was calmly watching. She hadn’t asked him to turn away either.

He turned slightly to the side.

But to Lin Yuchan, it was just adding pants under a long garment – nothing exposed, so what was there to be coy about?

While tying the waist cord, she sought his opinion: “There isn’t a suitable top. Is this okay? You’re missing a garment – won’t you be too cold?”

He gazed vacantly at the swaying bamboo blind, imagining her soft hands beneath the coat hem, perhaps tucking the nightgown’s hem into the waistband, smoothing it down, the lace trim wrapping around her legs with stubborn wrinkles that she could only leave in the pants; or perhaps she left the small hem outside the pants, tying the cord snugly against her body, the rough cotton rope pressing against her flat little belly, a loose knot falling below her navel, creating a small dimple.

He tried several times to redirect his attention, but in vain. His mind was filled only with the question: should she tuck the hem in or leave it outside?

The bright moon shone in the sky. His mind kept conjuring the image of the girl in the small white dress, the same color as moonlight.

He suddenly smiled almost imperceptibly, murmuring to himself: “Luna.”

His little moon.

Coastal families in Guangdong, regardless of wealth, all kept wooden buckets and basins. When typhoons came with strange howling rain, as if the sky had torn open, rainwater would break through doors. Then the whole family, young and old, would work together to bail water out, preventing flood damage to their belongings.

However, going against heaven had limits. When rain was too violent, no matter how much they bailed out, they could only watch helplessly as water levels rose, until finally the family would give up trying and let the children float in buckets for fun, finding joy in hardship.

Su Minguan felt his mind had been hit by a typhoon – unable to drain it, he gave up trying and let those strange thoughts float in his heart’s wooden bucket, turning them over repeatedly for entertainment.

“Luna.”

“Comrade Xiao Bai, you can turn around now.”

Lin Yuchan laughed.

He didn’t turn around, gazing into the distance while strategizing with his back turned: “Tighten the collar a bit more.”

She complied.

The small boat turned a corner. Su Minguan pushed through the door and left, asking a couple of questions about direction, getting a face full of wind outside before suddenly sobering up.

He re-entered the cabin, took out her bundle containing the large sum of money, and handed it to her.

“By the way, just now, when spending money to avoid disaster, pounds and silver dollars, no time to calculate, probably spent sixty or seventy yuan. Gave Aunt Zhou twenty pieces.” He remembered clearly. “This is what I owe you. I’ll repay it later.”

Lin Yuchan exclaimed, “Oh my!” and hurried over.

“Almost forgot!”

He hummed softly. Forgetting such a large sum of money, and she was running a business.

This money couldn’t be carried around, so it was temporarily locked in a cabin cabinet, leaving her holding the heavy key.

“Stay on the boat later,” Su Minguan instructed quietly. “Come out when I call you. It’s cold outside.”

Lin Yuchan leaned against the wall, slowly braiding her hair, asking: “How much longer?”

He was startled, watching her hands moving through her dark hair, honestly saying: “Only halfway there.”

Only then did he irritably realize – what was he doing rushing in here?

Lin Yuchan suddenly smiled: “This time last year, you were sneaking tarts on the Western steamship.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, following her lead in random reminiscence: “Then Chu Nanyun held a knife to my throat.”

She became more mischievous, quietly asking about old times: “How many days without bathing?”

Su Minguan’s face flushed red as he retorted: “At least you didn’t mind the smell when you hugged me.”

They looked at each other and smiled.

In all this chaos, a year had unknowingly passed.

In another half hour, the remaining forces of the Heaven and Earth Society along the southeastern coast would convene their first multi-provincial representative meeting in ten years. One of the attending bigwigs was lost in flights of fancy, his heart stuffed with strange old memories.

He knew this couldn’t continue. Being so unsettled emotionally would surely cause problems later.

Su Minguan suddenly called: “A’Mei.”

She turned her head: “Hmm?”

Before she could finish speaking, he roughly pulled her into his arms, her half-braided hair scattering with a rustle, heavy burning breath falling by her ear.

“Mmm…”

He gently stroked her slender waist, his thumb feeling through two layers of clothing that straight spine, holding her so tightly she was forced to arch back, her vertebrae contracting one by one into a smooth curve.

Her hair carried a soap fragrance, a natural, fresh scent. After the night’s terror, the clean fragrance was mixed with fine traces of girlish perspiration – clean and neat, not at all unpleasant, but rather generating a vigorous, vital body fragrance, like floating kapok petals in the night, a faint delicate wisp that could make one imagine a tree full of fiery red.

He secretly touched those hair strands with his lips, breathing in that fragrance in tiny sips, his nose occasionally brushing her ear. Initially cool, it gradually warmed, turning at an angle to reveal her delicate chin tip. She restlessly moved her small head.

Exquisite lips and fine eyebrows – if not for that small pistol tonight, he might never have seen them again.

When he first agreed to teach her, half was for bargaining, half just to add interest to difficult life. He hadn’t expected her to study seriously.

But she had been fired. Using the method he taught, he coldly fired with one shot.

“A’Mei,” he murmured like in a trance, “don’t grow up so fast…”

She finally stopped saying things like “you don’t need to take responsibility,” just quietly leaning in his arms, occasionally gently pushing him away to create half an inch of space at her chest, stealing a breath, then immediately being pressed tight against him again.

The brazier in the corner crackled and popped. Night wind sang off-key melodies, swaying the bells outside the cabin. The faint smoky scent from farmers’ stoves on shore lightly perfumed the small boat’s course.

Suddenly, a rooster crowed randomly in the night, causing a chorus of midnight crowing throughout the riverside village, one after another, breaking the peace across half the river.

The girl in his arms burst into giggles.

Su Minguan finally released her, biting his lip, not daring to imagine his current expression.

That unsettled, turbid energy finally dispersed. His rationality also finally returned to his body, all absurd imaginings settling like dust, and he became again that solitary wild crane.

Even though the girl had long ago indicated she didn’t mind, and it seemed he was taking great advantage, he still had some conscience left. Once or twice he was pleased with himself, three or four times he enjoyed it, but five or six times… he felt truly despicable.

“Miss Lin, I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse. “I cannot…”

The “ancient person” was starting to overthink again. Lin Yuchan very understandingly said: “It’s nothing. I also needed to calm my nerves.”

He immediately said: “It’s not for that…”

Lin Yuchan was somewhat surprised, looking up to study him. His eyes held shifting shadows, glinting with unclear emotions – not the deliberate coldness of drawing boundaries during the day, but rather a faint youthful melancholy.

She tentatively asked: “Is it because of those thugs today? Honestly, anyone doing business in Shanghai has experienced trouble a few times; otherwise, why would I learn to shoot? Besides, I wasn’t hurt…”

He stepped away, leaning against the opposite wall to face her, still stubbornly saying: “Not today. In the past, I… I’ve always done things very wrongly.”

Lin Yuchan went after him, concernedly wiping sweat from his forehead.

“You…” Some absurd guess arose in her heart as she half-jokingly said, “You’re not practicing some kind of monastic rules, are you? Getting too close to girls breaks your cultivation or something?”

Su Minguan laughed helplessly, dodging her hand.

“Wild imagination. Random guessing.”

Though… that was somewhat close.

He gently touched the back of her head. “I’ll explain to you later.”

Lin Yuchan said softly: “There’s still half the journey left – you could tell me now.”

The little girl persisted, her clear eyes frankly meeting his gaze, not the urgent look of prying curiosity, but simply wanting to share some invisible burden with him.

Su Minguan didn’t quite dare look in her eyes, his gaze tracing up and down from her small nose tip to her lips, then after a long while, smiling.

“The others are all outside rowing – I can’t just loaf around inside.” He found another overcoat in the cabin, wrapped it tightly, and pushed out the door, turning back to tell her, “Take this time to rest, even sleep if you can.”

Lin Yuchan nodded, seeing him off.

She wasn’t of age yet – she had plenty of time to wait.

When he was about to step out of the cabin, she suddenly called: “Xiao Bai.”

He supported himself against the wall, pausing mid-step.

“When you’re troubled, you can come to me for hugs – free, no consequences, no need for any intentions, just… just think of it as therapy. Very effective.”

Su Minguan had his back to her, his expression unclear, but he seemed to smile lightly.

“Really?” His tone carried deliberate distance, as if uninterested in this proposal. “Sounds like you’ve tried it with many people.”

“Not many, just two. One is you, and the other…”

He couldn’t help turning around. The clear-featured young girl smiled frankly at him, extending two slender arms to cross over her chest, hands falling on her shoulder blades behind her back.