Victor was stunned, his handsome face showing some bewildered expression.

This Chinese person also seemed to know proper etiquette. Ordinary Chinese men would either bow or curtsy when meeting foreigners, but none would shake hands directly.

Victor thought he might be some arrogant scholar or successful examination candidate, snorted, and reluctantly extended his hand.

“Victor Levin, Maritime Customs commercial… uh…”

That pale Western face suddenly turned excessively white. This Chinese was setting him up! Using such force, his bones were about to break!

Su Minguan calmly pulled Victor two steps closer, gave his name, and smiled at him with the hospitality of a gracious nation: “Since you can take us in, we’re grateful. By the way, the one interested in the auction is me, not her. So…”

He suddenly paused. This foreigner was wearing some perfume, not the scent of Western cologne, but a faint Eastern sweet fragrance that was still clearly distinguishable even after being diluted overnight.

Su Minguan’s smile turned cold as he finished the second half of his sentence: “…stay away from her.”

Victor snorted coldly, finally understanding why his hand hurt.

Hooray! Flirting with Chinese women in front of Chinese men and watching them dare to be angry but not speak—he loved it most!

Romance was like warfare. This beautiful but terminally ill country, where one Western ruffian could sweep through five hundred government troops—their men’s backbone was as soft as the Eight Banners’ matchlocks. Dealing with such people, Victor rarely felt “evenly matched.”

They might protest with apparent seriousness for a few sentences, then would offer up the women beside them with both hands, just like offering their land, silver, and sovereignty.

Victor was getting bored with this crushing game.

Occasionally, when encountering those rare exceptions, he would become highly excited, shouting with exhilaration in his heart.

Anyway, even if they fought until both ended up in the hospital, he had his own country backing him—at most, he’d pay some silver and be done with it. If the other party injured a foreigner, that would be serious—beatings and hard labor awaited him in the future.

Human nature seeks benefit and avoids harm—it’s all the same. Where there are no legal constraints, morality also runs wild. Only saints can resist such corrupt temptation.

Victor wasn’t a saint. He came to China for adventure.

Those wealthy Chinese gentlemen who “forcibly seized village girls” were just as unscrupulous and far more vicious than him.

At least Victor disdained force and would respect the girls’ wishes.

Victor half-opened his pale eyes, the fighting intent obvious, glancing at that outstanding Chinese man.

“Oh, then I’m afraid I can’t comply.” Victor tugged at his suit tie, laughing heartily. “Let me teach you some knowledge—beautiful girls aren’t anyone’s private property, not for you to make me stay away just because you say so. Who Miss Lin associates with is her freedom. Fair competition is welcome.”

While provoking, he saw the anger in his opponent’s eyes suddenly disappear, his demeanor gradually calming, even showing a trace of a gentle smile.

Victor felt somewhat disappointed. Looked like another spineless one.

From the venue, Jin Denggan was calling to him. Victor was too lazy to waste more words, took a glass of champagne from a waiter, and turned to call the patrol officers: “Get this person out of here for me…”

“Where foreign gentlemen spend the night is also their freedom.” Su Minguan suddenly stepped closer, saying quietly: “Fuzhou Road, Tianxiang Tower. Time was last night… were the beds there comfortable enough?”

Victor froze on the spot, his pale face flushing red.

“How do you know…”

Su Minguan smiled pleasantly: “Let me teach you some knowledge: security on Fuzhou Road has never been too good. If you don’t want to be bagged and beaten with twenty sticks the next time you patronize that place, please take me to see the auction, and also, stay away from Miss Lin.”

Victor suddenly felt his hair stand on end, holding the champagne, afraid to drink, his blonde hair standing straight up: “Who are you? How do you know I…”

Su Minguan smiled without speaking, casually taking the champagne glass from his hand and draining it openly: “Please.”

Every strand of this foreigner’s blonde hair carried Chinese incense—a regular customer of Fuzhou Road’s romantic establishments. The calling cards from Tianxiang Tower also carried the same incense, and this spice was later transported by Yixing. Su Minguan’s memory was precise—one bluff hit right on target.

The sack beating was naturally his alarmist talk. He was too lazy to do such tasteless things.

But Victor, suddenly having his private life exposed, panicked, thinking this might be the legendary Chinese gang boss.

No matter how high one’s martial arts, one still fears kitchen knives. No matter how high a foreigner’s status, every year, some were secretly attacked by desperate criminals.

Victor: Suddenly wanted to go home…

He unwillingly looked back at Lin Yuchan, calling out: “Miss Lin, if you’ve been kidnapped by this villain, just blink twice.”

Miss Lin’s eyes sparkled without blinking, only showing a face full of sympathy, giving him an expression of “you’re on your own.”

Victor could only admit defeat. He wasn’t devoted enough to Miss Lin to give up the entire forest for one tree.

With a bitter face, he said: “This way, please.”

Lin Yuchan’s cheeks grew slightly warm as she quickly followed.

She hadn’t heard clearly what Su Minguan specifically threatened, but from Victor’s expression, it wasn’t anything good.

Victor was always like this—she had long been immune and had never been substantially harmed by him, so she could laugh it off. But he was used to being superior and was equally rude to other Chinese girls, making them awkward and embarrassed while people pointed and whispered, and he enjoyed it—this deserved a lesson.

So seeing Victor deflated, she was secretly pleased. Now he would probably restrain himself in the future.

Not wanting to appear too gleeful about others’ misfortune, she maintained a serious face and carefully observed the steamship at the dock.

With Victor leading the way, the venue’s waiters and bodyguards indeed didn’t interfere, letting them walk to the foot of the steamship.

The cold, hard giant ship moored at the dock made the people below seem like grass and trees.

It truly was a colossal thing.

Describing it as “a giant beast” wouldn’t be excessive.

Lin Yuchan had ridden on Hede’s official ship. It was also a Western steamship, but just a small passenger vessel, incomparable to this one before her eyes.

Standing so close, looking up, she felt amazed yet also awkward.

She saw only large patches of rusted iron plates, layer upon layer, stained different shades by seawater. The ship’s side was broken and gaped, with shocking cracks. The original cannons had all been removed, leaving dark, empty gun ports. Of three masts, two were broken, leaving only the highest one reaching straight into the sun, topped with a tattered flag of indeterminate color.

From afar, it looked golden and magnificent; up close, it was rotten inside.

Su Minguan, beside her, also felt something was wrong, asking Victor: “Can this ship sail?”

Victor snorted, ignoring him, turning instead to smile ingratiatingly at Lin Yuchan: “Miss Lin, look carefully—doesn’t this ship seem very familiar? Let me give you a hint: we still have its original purchase contract in our Maritime Customs archives…”

Laughing aside, he didn’t dare get too close, just desperately throwing flirtatious glances at her, emphasizing the words “we” particularly heavily.

Lin Yuchan followed Victor’s pointing finger and found several characters among the mottled rust—

“Guangdong.”

She gasped: “No way? The Osborn Flotilla still hasn’t been sold?”

This should have been resolved early in the year. The Qing government spent large sums of silver to buy a fleet commanded by the British. Inviting gods was easy; sending them away was difficult. Hede mediated for a long time before helping the court dispose of this sovereignty-surrendering “navy.”

Then Hede arranged for this fleet to be sent away for auction. Reportedly, most were sold to British forces stationed in India and had long since departed—by now, they should be reeking of curry.

This batch of ships nearly became the first Qing navy, which had already been named by the court: Jiangsu, Beijing…

This “Guangdong” was considered a rather ordinary warship in the rear ranks.

Lin Yuchan had only roughly glanced at these warships’ specifications, and with time passing, only upon seeing the three characters “Guangdong” today did she suddenly recall their origins.

Victor spoke like a robot, in flat tones, drawing out his words: “The other ships were all sold. Guangdong ran aground and was damaged just after leaving port, abandoned at a废弃码头, with no one caring for it. Last month, the Qing court was short of money and finally remembered this matter. Repairing the ship was too expensive, and officials didn’t understand the business, so they wanted to sell it to foreigners to scrape together some military funding. Miss Lin, friendly reminder: this ship’s repair costs are at least half the ship’s price. Unless you have a hobby of collecting old ships, it has no purchase value.”

He suddenly saw a sign held up on the podium and happily showed his white teeth: “Ahahaha, it’s already failed to sell—the bidding record is over there. Well, I need to go back and report now. Miss Lin, goodbye. Next time you come to find me, be more low-key—come alone.”

After speaking, he secretly blew her a kiss and ran away quickly, eager to get far from the “gang boss.”

Lin Yuchan stood with her mouth slightly open, not yet having digested all this information.

Damaged…

Just a few hours ago, she had been boasting to the Heaven and Earth Society elders about how invincible and invincible foreign warships were.

Now here was a ready-made counterexample slapping her in the face. She just hoped Mr. Li and the others wouldn’t pass by here on their way home.

No wonder today’s foreign merchants on the scene were all bidding halfheartedly—rather than buying something, they seemed to be here for entertainment and laughs.

There was even a small band nearby playing gentle music, like a small social cocktail party.

Su Minguan gently touched her arm. Only then did she turn back to look up at him.

His gaze was cold, following Victor’s departing figure: “Are all Maritime Customs people like this?”

What he didn’t say aloud was: You worked at Maritime Customs for several months, dealing with such people every day?

Lin Yuchan’s ears grew warm as she slowly walked toward the bidding record board, saying quietly, “Just him being particularly weird. The other foreigners generally don’t look at me directly.”

Su Minguan casually threw away the champagne glass: “He treats you like this, and you also don’t mind?”

The last three words, “don’t mind,” were deliberately imitated in her usual tone. Lin Yuchan’s ears reddened a bit more.

His breath carried a slight wine scent, his voice so low as to be barely audible, yet the anger in his tone was penetrating, like the unbearable heat before a typhoon’s arrival.

Looking at the rows of numbers and names on the bidding board, Lin Yuchan couldn’t remember a single one after looking for a long time, and could only answer his question.

“Handshakes, I don’t mind.” Her gaze never left the bidding board as she said calmly, “Of course, there are boundaries. When I first started at Maritime Customs, all the Chinese and foreign staff found me novel. Victor was no exception. Once he tried to kiss me, and I slapped him. He cursed at me a few times and threatened to report to his superior, saying I’d be packing up and leaving the next day. But the next day, nothing happened—he wore the slap mark to work all day. Probably felt embarrassed to complain. Or perhaps Hede found me cheap and useful, reluctant to kick me out… Anyway, after that, Victor only dared to run his mouth when he saw me, and I don’t mind that.”

She spoke lightly, like telling a joke, finishing in one breath, then looked up with clear eyes carrying a trace of childish mockery: “Are you satisfied?”

Su Minguan lowered his gaze, nodding gently, his voice lacking confidence: “I was just asking.”

He carried an unspeakable shackle in his heart, thinking over and over: What right do I have to control her?

After a pause, he explained: “Just afraid you’d suffer losses.”

Lin Yuchan finally took in the numbers on the bidding board, finding them unbelievable.

“A broken ship sells for so much money?”

The entire Osborn Flotilla cost 1.7 million taels of silver for nine ships. Lin Yuchan didn’t know each ship’s specific cost, but Guangdong belonged to the lower tier, so its cost shouldn’t exceed 100,000 taels.

Today’s starting bid was 50,000 taels.

For a ship that couldn’t move. Moreover, the most militarily valuable cannons had all been removed.

After buying it, enormous sums would still need to be spent on repairs before it could be put back into service as a civilian transport ship. China had no qualified shipyards—it would probably have to be dragged back to Europe for repairs, taking several months back and forth. The combined loss of time and money would be enough to buy a new steamship.

No wonder the foreign merchants weren’t buying.

Su Minguan also stopped discussing private matters with her, sneering: “The people setting prices have no idea about the business. The court is demanding exorbitant prices, trying to squeeze silver from foreigners. Even if this auction continued until next year, no one would come bearing gifts of silver.”

Looking at the participants on the bidding board: Flagstaff Trading Company, Jardine Matheson & Co., Baoshun Trading House… all trading companies with shipping qualifications had come to look.

But foreigners weren’t suckers either. Sure enough, looking at the records, bidding went all the way down to 25,000 taels, but still no foreign merchants were willing to take it over—some hadn’t even bid.

So it was declared a failed auction.

Vaguely hearing someone discussing: “…wasted a lovely morning… I wouldn’t want this steamship even if given for free…”

Lin Yuchan suddenly tugged his sleeve: “Let’s go first.”

A gray-haired, hook-nosed foreign merchant noticed them and strode over, asking sternly in English: “Which company’s interpreters are you?”

Two young Chinese, one even androgynous, were seriously studying the bidding here; regardless of their identity, they were conspicuous.

Lin Yuchan quickly deflected: “We’re leaving now.”

Glancing sideways, the hook-nosed foreign merchant’s identity was easy to recognize: his tie was embroidered with the American Flagstaff Trading Company’s emblem.

“Manager Jin Nengheng of Flagstaff Trading Company,” Su Minguan said quietly. “I heard they’re planning to establish a steamship company.”

Yangtze River shipping was a rich prize. In recent years, trade had gradually flourished, all the treaties that should be signed were signed, all the privileges that should be granted were implemented, and the doors of convenience for foreign merchants were opened wide enough—everyone wanted a piece of the pie.

Recognizing this person’s identity, he wasn’t in a hurry to leave, putting on a commercial smile and greeting him, planning to extract more information.

Unexpectedly, Manager Jin Nengheng was completely impolite, waving his hooked nose and loudly calling for bodyguards: “Not interpreters! Some Chinese people snuck in to cause trouble! Who let them in? Make them get lost quickly! Wasn’t it said that the Chinese aren’t allowed to participate in the auction?”

This person was also hot-tempered, not waiting for bodyguards, swinging his walking stick to hit people, aiming at Lin Yuchan’s head.

“Who sent you? Huh? Do the Chinese have the money to buy this kind of ship? What exactly are you here for?”

Su Minguan suddenly struck out, catching the walking stick.

“Jardine’s chief sent me to say hello,” he smiled, effortlessly framing his former employer. “Wishing your new steamship company red profits—don’t sink any ships now.”

Taking advantage of Manager Jin Nengheng being on the verge of an explosion, he pushed the walking stick away and quickly walked off with Lin Yuchan.

Five seconds later, furious cursing rang out from behind: “Jardine get out of Shanghai,” “Damn British,” and such.

Su Minguan smiled coldly.

The two quickly walked out of the auction site, and he slowly turned back, still unwilling to give up, looking back again.

Even a dead giant beast was still a giant beast—even with only scattered skeleton remains, it was enough to dominate and shine brilliantly.

While sunken ships gave way to a thousand sails passing by, a team of brand-new Chinese transport sand boats slowly approached. Their white sails gleamed dazzlingly, wooden hulls polished to a shine, ship sides riding deep in the water. The sailors at the bow were high-spirited, and when passing the Maritime Customs buoy lighthouse, the sailors worked together to unfurl the great Qing dragon flag, shouting work songs loudly.

But seeing Guangdong, the singing stopped as they curiously gathered to a point and stared at that man-devouring giant smokestack.

The wreckage of the steamship was gloomy and dark, its steel structure exposed, every rusted bolt still carrying remnants of the thunderous glory of the Western Industrial Revolution.

It had departed from distant London Port, witnessed the giant waves of the Atlantic, and crossed the monsoons of the Cape of Good Hope. It used its massive keel to cut through the Indian Ocean’s surface, crossing over the porcelain and ballast dropped by Zheng He’s fleet hundreds of years before. Most of the coastal lands it passed had already been planted with British flags. It came to the mysterious Far East that Renaissance European sages dreamed of, only to find this land corroded by opium and ignorance, tormented by its wars until devastated, having become an invalid pacing within iron cages.

It was probably very disappointed, so it simply ran aground at the Yangtze’s mouth, ending its magnificent but meaningless luxury journey.

On Wells Bridge, Su Minguan suddenly stopped, hands on the bridge railing, turning around once more.

“A’Mei, I want to have a ship like that.”

His breath carried the scent of champagne. His voice was low and soft, as if talking romance with some invisible girl, making her ears unexpectedly warm. His eyes flashed with bright light, like stars brilliantly lighting up the night sky after heavy rain.

Lin Yuchan steadied her mind, quietly reminding: “Twenty-five thousand taels, repair costs might double.”

“With a steamship, shipping times to coastal ports could be cut at least in half. It could also navigate inland rivers, not restricted by wind direction.” Su Minguan seemed not to hear, eyes unblinking, suddenly looking down at her, his enthusiasm undiminished: “Your tea supply orders to Yantai and Fuzhou Maritime Customs—if carried by steamship, with shortened shipping times, at least fifty percent of losses could be avoided, and safety would be greatly improved, and…”

He paused, his voice even lower: “Shanghai has never had a Chinese ship owner use steamships. If I’m the first, Yixing’s reputation would immediately resound throughout Shanghai, instantly… breaking out of its circle.”

Lin Yuchan: “Twenty-five thousand taels, repair costs… might… double.”

“Guangdong—we’re so fated to meet.”

“Twenty-five thousand taels…”

The toll collector at Wells Bridge glared with triangular eyes, queue swinging on his shoulder, waving a wooden stick to drive them away: “Get down! Get down! This bridge is for walking! Not for you to stroll around on! You paid five wen, so what? Foreign gentlemen’s bridge—you Chinese want to hog the view? Dream on! Get down! If you don’t leave, I’m calling the patrol!”

Su Minguan smiled, calmly pushing Lin Yuchan’s back, slowly walking down the bridge to the accompaniment of that scolding.

“…Yixing’s carrying capacity would increase at least fivefold, able to take on ocean port and inland orders with greater profit margins,” he laughed as if no one else existed. “By then, I’ll build a bridge and make that punk completely unemployed.”

Lin Yuchan wanted to speak but hesitated, reluctant to interrupt his reverie, finally choosing not to speak at all, smiling as she watched him dream.

Men two centuries later hadn’t improved much—seeing trendy cars, computers, and drones, they instantly couldn’t move. Not even checking if their credit cards were paid off.

She suddenly wondered: if he had been born two centuries later, able to ride ships, board planes, travel the world, overlook his homeland from cloud-level skyscrapers, how would he spend his youth in the most extreme ways?

Unfortunately, in the Qing period, a thousand-year-old land had settled into stubborn magnetism, dragging every soul trying to fly far back to that ancient starting point.

When they reached the Hongkou branch, Su Minguan finally descended to earth, no longer mentioning steamships, giving her a steady smile.

“Mm, finally cleaned up. The safe will be delivered later. One-thirty in the afternoon—don’t forget to give your statement at the patrol station.”

Lin Yuchan looked at the clock inside: “It’s already one o’clock.”

He was startled.

The taste of this morning’s pan-fried buns was still under his tongue—how was it already afternoon?

Watching ships for so long, yet she patiently accompanied him throughout.

Lin Yuchan had already called at the kitchen door: “Aunt Zhou! Prepare lunch for two. Simple, but quick.”

The statement went very smoothly. Su Minguan played a qualified head of household, describing last night’s “home invasion robbers” as extremely vicious, while the “Chinese couple” forced to shoot became innocent white lotuses, still shaken and badly frightened.

“Didn’t sleep all night,” the young Chinese merchant sighed wearily. “Look at the bloodshot eyes of my wife.”

Not sleeping all night was true. They’d been busy at meetings.

The patrol officers had already received substantial benefits last night, so naturally wouldn’t nitpick details. This case didn’t require rewards for catching criminals either. Seeing Su Minguan could explain everything coherently, they closed the case, instructed a few words about “being careful in the future,” sent them away, and returned the Derringer pistol.

Su Minguan watched Lin Yuchan hide the gun and bullets back under her pillow, suddenly remembering her trembling with the gun last night, his gaze deep, not speaking for a long time.

“A’Mei,” after a long while, he asked quietly: “Continue practicing?”